That fresh and exposed wound is so deep that she doesn’t know how to fix it.
Let’s be clear. I’m no doctor, but her being here is not normal. But then again, lately nothing about her is fucking normal, nothing at all. Plus, since I’ve been stalking her, the fact that she comes to me is a breath of fresh air. So, I’m not gonna complain; what’s more, I fucking like this. I know, I’m selfish, boo-fucking-yah.
She’s a massive mess, I can almost see her thoughts taking physical form from where I’m sitting, jumping around her head. She’s so caught up in them, she’s not aware I’m watching her. I’m not even sure she remembers I’m in the room.
We all have to make decisions in our lives, we have the blessing of free will and freedom of choice, but sometimes we forget that those very decisions and their consequences will forge the person we will be tomorrow. Now this is what she’s contemplating; she’s trying to recap her future.
A beautiful broken piece, that’s what Sarah is right now. Waiting for me to fix her with my own hands, to re-shape her and give back her purpose.
The crackling sound of the burning wood and the pouring rain outside prevent the silence from becoming deafening. I can feel her mind melting in my hands. She will give in to her instincts and before she knows it, she will start trusting me. I can almost taste victory. I hear a loud noise coming from her stomach— she’s hungry. I always hated that goddamned noise. Whenever I heard it in that cell I wanted to break her free and take her to a restaurant. She knows it triggers me, and almost immediately looks up at me waiting for my reaction.
“How’s the diet going for you?” I don’t hide my concern. She doesn’t look like she’s doing better when it comes to weight.
“I’m getting there. I have to take it slow because my stomach is still fragile and sometimes rejects all the food the nutritionist recommends. Can I… ask you something?” I nod. “When you brought me food to my cell… were you breaking the rules?”
Fuck.
“Yes, I couldn’t stand watching you starve.” Just like I can’t stand feeling embarrassed right now, I think but end up saying: “Just like I can’t stand hearing you’re starving right now. You haven’t had dinner yet, right?” I look up and see her shake her head. “Well, that needs to change. If your body is weak, your mind will be, too.” I stand up and offer her my hand. That was a reflex, I think. I want to take care of her. I can see my gesture confuses her; she looks at me not knowing what to do next. So I put my hand away immediately, pretending not to feel rejected.
Note to self: no touching.
We make our way to the kitchen, where I have already hidden the laptop in the vegetables cabinet. I move around the kitchen like she’s not even here, but actually she’s observing the kitchen and watching my every move like a hawk. However, she can’t decide if she’s going to sit or stand.
A very nutritious meal is in the menu tonight; something light that her stomach won’t reject. A question stops me in the middle of chopping vegetables. “How the hell did you convince the guards to let you out in this weather, without an escort or even an umbrella?” Thankfully, she’s behind me and can’t see how angry I look. That would only set us back to square one in this game of trust.
“Actually, I snuck out. I needed to be by myself before dropping by,” she says mortified. I look over my shoulder to check if the expression matches the tone— yes, it does. They should have reported this to me and perform a complete search on the house. None of that happened, which means they’re not even aware that she left, which means I will fire their asses.
“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” I glance out the window as a reflex. I know nobody else is here because not a single motion sensor at the perimeter was triggered. Still… those fucking guards…
“I really don’t think so. I turned around a few times and made sure to stop at a couple of places before coming here.”
“That’s a long-ass walk.”
“Yep. Wait… You know where I live?”
Shit.
I don’t answer the last question; instead, I put the veggies in the pot and turn the burner up. She already knows the answer— of course I know everything about her, dammit, I know more about her than she does. There’s no need for words; she understands I’m not an ordinary guy.
Little by little, we start to understand each other.
“Gimme a moment, would you?” I grab my cell from my back pocket and speed dial one of the morons guarding Sarah. I hold the phone between my face and my shoulder, so I can keep cooking when the sergeant picks up.
“Willis here.”
“Sergeant, how are you doing this fine evening?”
“Oh! Captain D’Amico, sir. Everything is fine. Thank you.”
“What’s your twenty?”
“Safehouse thirty-two, sir, front gate sir, no movement, sir.” That piece of shit doesn’t even know she’s gone. I hang up the phone without responding and immediately dial his supervisor to get him up to speed. Sarah’s face is full of guilt.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for them. They should feel sorry for themselves. Protecting one female civilian should be an easy enough task for them, and yet they found a way to fuck it all up,” I bark, maybe too angrily. The sheer thought of leaving Sarah under the protection of such retards makes my blood boil. She would be better off if I… I…
“I’m not the only woman in that house; my mother is living with me now.”
“Those are good news. Right?” I already knew that, of course, but I have to play dumb for once, to lead her straight to the answer I want to hear, the answer that will confirm what I suspect since I saw her walking aimlessly, doing nothing but allowing herself to avoid going back home.
