I try to get to my knees, to make a feeble attempt to run, but the black dog snarls and bites down on my arm the moment I lift it. He’s so close, so massive. He must be ninety, or maybe a hundred pounds and built with speed and muscle.
I’m no match for him. My cheek rests on the grass as my body stills. I'm frozen with fear. The dog doesn’t bite down, and he doesn’t growl, he merely holds me in place.
Waiting for his owner.
The dog’s teeth feel so sharp as I whimper. My body’s shaking, freezing in the cold dirt and earth at the bottom of the cement stairs. The early morning sun rises, and it's enough light that I can see around me. Trees, open land… nothing else. Nowhere to go, no one to call for help.
Just like before. He’s dead. I have to remind myself. The monster is dead. He didn’t burn in the fire, but he was there, buried in the dirt.
It’s just Jay. He’s the one doing all this.
I pray that it’s him. I pray for him to come to me and make this all go away. Make the memories go away.
The most fucked up part about it all, is that I don’t hate him. I wish I could find it in me to focus on that strong emotion, but it’s absent.
Even as fear cripples me and the sound of the dog’s low growling vibrates up his chest and into my small body… I can’t manage hate.
The sound of a man’s strides makes me open my eyes. I force them to look back at the man walking toward me. His hands are fisted, his jaw clenched and a disapproving frown is on his face.
A low whistle pierces through the air, and the dog’s jaws loosen before he backs away.
I still don’t move. I lie there, my knees on the cement and the scratches from the dog bite burning and begging me to touch them. But I don’t. I just stay there listening to the man approaching. I close my eyes as he nears, hating everything that’s happening. Hating my failure, the circumstances. Hating everything but him.
He can drag me back inside; I won’t fight him. I never could before anyway.
My eyes are too dry to cry, but that doesn’t stop the guilt that smothers me when I peek up, his shadow blocking the light and I see the look of betrayal in his eyes.
Chapter 9
Jay
I knew she’d do it. I remind myself of that as I carry her back down the stairs.
She’s so light in my arms. Her small body is hot and she clings to me as if she didn’t just try to run from me. Her hot breath tickles my neck as she nestles her head there and stays still in my arms. She won’t look at me though.
And for some reason that makes me feel justified.
It shouldn’t though. I practically set her up for this, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I climb down the cement stairwell to the opened door and whistle for Toby to come in. He’s a German shepherd I picked up after his partner, a police officer, died on the job. He was shot in the back and the fuckers got Toby, too.
He barrels in, taking glances at Robin, my little bird. He’s curious but he’ll stay away. I trained him well, and he knows how to behave and what to do.
“Good boy,” I mutter under my breath as his paws patter in the basement and I kick the door shut. I think about locking it, but there’s no point.
Robin sniffles and readjusts in my arms, but she’s quiet. Her face is filthy, with a large smudge of dirt on her cheek, but she doesn’t even try to wipe it away.
“I have a room for you upstairs, you know,” I tell her as I walk her back to the room. It’s just like where I first met her. Just like the room we spent months and months in.
She finally looks at me, those beautiful hazel eyes brimming with curiosity. With hope.
“It was your reward for being good for me. All you had to do was stay.” Her eyes flick down and her body tenses as I push my back against the door to the room and walk her to the bed.
“I’m sorry, Jay,” she whispers in a cracked voice. The light in here is bright. It’s not like the one Father had. That one was dim and dirty, covered with filth that had gathered for years. This light is new. It’s too glaring.
“You aren’t though,” I tell her as I set her down on the bed. I brush the sheets with my arm and look at her dirtied nightgown and the scratches on her leg from Toby. There’s a trickle of blood on her calf and I’m almost proud that Robin stays still when I grab her just beneath her knee to look at it.
“He got you, didn’t he?” The words slip out before I know it. I hate that he hurt her. Anger makes my body feel tight, my corded muscles ready to spring to life.
