A/n: I hope everyone who celebrates it had a marvelous Easter! Did you guys get anything good from the Easter Bunny? Thank you all for the reviews!! I hope you enjoy this update.
"I'd rather run the other way than stay and see the smoke and who's still standing when it clears." -- The Fray, "Over My Head".
I opened the bathroom door and smiled at her, relief flooding my body. I grasped her hand tightly as if I were falling, and I pulled her to the bedroom so we could try and talk in private. Jake hurried to shut the bedroom door, but Luke slipped in before he could. He sat down in a chair across from the bed where Susan had sat down.
She released my hand and turned to me.
"Your brother is so nice to come here and help! My brother wouldn't." She exclaimed, smiling warmly at Luke. I glanced at Jake and he rolled his eyes.
Luke smiled back and it actually looked kind. "Well, she's my little sister." He crossed the room and flung an arm around my shoulders. I cringed away from him, my stomach flipping and the babies recoiling at my fear and sadness. He sat down between me and Susan, his arm still around my shoulder. He rested a hand on my stomach. "I have to watch over her and my nieces!"
Jake made a show of angrily huffing and stomping his feet. I guessed this kept him from jumping up and beheading Luke.
Susan patted his hand.
"Still, you are such a dear for it. And I'm sure Miley likes having a pediatrician here for a second opinion. That is such a luxury for a woman having twins for the first time. Tell me, is everything going well?" She shot the last question at me. Jake gasped in fake wonder.
"What? You're a pediatrician, bro? And here I was, thinking I'd have to help her have the babies if we can't get to the hospital! I'll just leave that to you, doc." He smiled, but the hard hatred remained in his eyes.
"You knew I was a doctor, Ryan. You've visited the hospital before." Luke's lies were so smooth that I almost believed it.
"Oh, right. Yes. Oh, how could I forget that? Can you get Alzheimer's at thirty-two, doctor?" He angrily clenched his fists. While they glared, I shot a look at Susan. Her responding glance was full of confusion. She mouthed 'brother?'. I shook my head quickly. I mouthed a word before he turned back around.
Killer.
He turned back to us and Susan grinned at him.
"Everything has been going well, Susan." I answered quickly. Luke started talking before I had finished my sentence.
"Now, you know that isn't true, sister. Just yesterday there was a terrible incident where both of them accidently cut their arms and thought she was miscarrying. Scared all of us."
Jake sighed, but this time it didn't sound sarcastic. I looked at him and I realized he actually did look pale.
"O…kay," Susan said slowly. "That's…quite an incident."
"That's what I thought, too." Luke said, glaring at me when Susan wasn't looking. He ruffled my hair, "Miley's never been very smart. But what can you expect, being raised on the farm and all."
I grit my teeth. Jake rested his head on the back of the chair and I could see moisture on his forehead. He drew his arms closer to his body.
"Anyway, Susan, I need you to pick some stuff up for me at the store. Can you get them here quickly?"
She nodded, and she was also looking at Jake. I knew Luke wasn't going to leave. I stood up suddenly.
"Before I get the list for you, can you come in here a moment?" I motioned at the bathroom. She stood up, too. I shot a look at Jake as we walked past him and I gently touched his forearm, trying to give him strength. This was all my fault. Luke made a move to walk in with us and I slammed the door in his face. He angrily knocked on it.
"Open the door. I told Mom I wouldn't let you out of my sight."
I opened the bathroom drawer and grabbed the little sticky pad out. I was using it for reminders, but now I was going to use it for the list.
"I'm not opening the door. I'm showing her something you can't see unless you're a pervert that enjoys incest. And brother? Mom is dead."
I grabbed the marker too. Susan sat on the edge of the tub.
"What are you showing her?" He hit the door again.
I pulled the top of the marker and tried to think.
"My ass, you jerk, now get the hell away!" I screamed.
Jake needs medicine for his infection. But that requires a subscription. Malone would write one if Susan explained to her. I quickly wrote that down. What else? I needed to put stuff that seemed normal. He would surely look over the list, so I couldn't put sleeping pills on there.
But maybe it didn't have to be sleeping pills. There were pain killers in the cabinet. What if I just gave him half a bottle of those? One of Cole's friends downed half a bottle of Tylenol in seventh grade and he would have died from liver failure if he wouldn't have gotten treatment immediately. If Luke didn't know he took that much, he'd be stuck here to die painfully from liver failure. What a terrible way to go. Could I do that? Could I not do that?
I wrote down trivial things like bread, milk, orange juice, fruits, vegetables, broth, soap, toothpaste, Band-Aids, toilet paper, shampoo…I even added chocolate for good measure. It looked like a perfectly normal list. I added some pregnancy-based essentials and handed her the list. I knew he was right outside the door. She read the first thing on the list.
"Where do I find her?" She whispered. I wrote Malone's phone number and address on the paper.
"Do I call the police?"
I shook my head swiftly. I grasped my hands around my neck, mimicking being strangled. "My son." I murmured, mimicking strangulation again so she would understand. She gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth. I turned the tub on so the water would drown out sounds. I really should have done that earlier.
"But you have to tell!" She hissed. "They are trained in this! They can help! Miley, what are you going to do? You're extremely pregnant and Jake looks like he's dying with an infection. You cannot do this alone. Please, let me go to the police."
I wrapped my arms around my stomach as the babies woke up. In a few minutes they'd be kicking like crazy. They had a particular sleep schedule.
"You don't know this man, Susan. He will kill Cole. He will. I have a plan. I just really need you to get the Penicillin for Jake. Please." I mumbled.
She ran a hand through her gray hair, her eyes wide and her face ashen.
"And what if your plan doesn't work?"
I sat down beside her.
"Don't get into this, Susan. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. The last thing you want is to leave your children. If the plan doesn't work, I will make another one. But you would be helping the most if you just got the list. Please don't let Malone go to the cops either. Please. This is my son's life. Please." I begged in a hushed tone. She swallowed and then nodded bravely. She hugged me.
"I'll get the medicine and the rest of the list. But I want you to know that I'm already in this. What is your plan?"
Her eyes were honest and I knew I could trust her. I whispered the plan into her ear very, very softly.
She shook her head.
"Death could take up to five days even if you give him the whole bottle. He won't even feel liver pain until about two days. Inside Jake's prescription bottle I will slip in some Xanax and Darvocet A500 pills, enough to do the job. Figure out a way to mix these with an alcoholic drink and get that man to drink it."
She spoke so fast that my head was spinning from the strange words and the risk.
"Xanax? Darvocet? What is that? And no, not in Jake's bottle. I won't know the difference and he might accidently take the wrong kind. Put it…" I scanned the list. "In the Band-Aids box. Those aren't sealed when you buy them. Hide the pills at the bottom. Maybe stick some cotton balls in there too to keep them from moving around when the box moves. What will those drugs together with alcohol do?"
She turned the shower on and it made the sound even louder. She leaned closer.
"Xanax is alprazolam, which is used to treat anxiety and panic disorders. Darvocet is propoxyphene napsylate, a pain reliever. Carl was on Xanax, and Sean was on Darvocet. If you take them together, with alcohol, you're pretty much saying goodbye. Just make sure you give him all I put in there. I'll give him a dosage for three people with each drug. It will most likely slow down his nervous system and make him pass out or stop breathing. Do you want me to give you those?" She was panting by the end of her sentence.
I nodded. "How fast will it work?"
"No telling. I'd wait until you see him deteriorating before you try and go anywhere. We better go, before he gets even more suspicious. I'll bring this stuff in about an hour and a half."
She stood up and I hugged her again.
"Thank you for all you've done and continue to do for my family." I opened the cabinet and pushed things loudly around, making it sound like we were doing something.
She shrugged, "This is how I would want someone to treat my family. Do onto others as you would have them do unto you, right?"
I stopped what I was doing and blinked.
"Yes," I replied slowly, "That is right."
After Susan left, I helped Jake into the bed. The list made it through Luke's inspection, with him adding cigarettes and alcohol to the list as if he knew our plan and was welcoming it. I hoped Malone would fill the subscription without question.
Jake slept restlessly, always tossing and turning. He kicked the blankets off one minute and then had them up to his shoulders the next. I cleaned his cut while he was sleeping (it looked terrible), and gave him Tylenol for the pain, but I knew only the antibiotics could get rid of it. He hadn't said anything to me in a four hour span.
I stayed at his side, too scared to move. Adeline and Odette kicked some, but they didn't seem into it at all. I felt bad because I knew my stress was stressing them, but I honestly couldn't do anything about it. They stretched and turned but kicked very little.
Jake stirred, and about a minute later he was awake. He shook and I wished we had more blankets. I already had every one minus the one Luke was using. I wiped the perspiration off his face.
"Do you feel better?" I whispered hopefully. He shook his head and I longed for him to say something, panic taking me over. He looked like he was dying. If he was going to die I needed to hear his voice one more time, please, just once more. I needed him. I felt responsible for this. I was bitching about wanting to take care of him and now he was rendered incapable of even walking. Congratulations. Hope I'm happy.
He opened his arms and his eyes begged me with a odd cockiness to them, as if he knew he didn't have to even ask or beg at all but he was for the heck of it. The familiar spark made me feel a little better. I crawled into his arms but I wasn't able to get close at all because of my stomach. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. He set his hands on my stomach and the babies kicked with all the pent up energy and it took me one dead, heartbroken minute to realize he thought he was about to die. He leaned his head on top of mine and touched the kicking feet and fists of the children he thought he'd never get to know.
"Jake," I pleaded, "look at me."
He pulled his head off mine and met my gaze. He looked peaceful, as if this was all okay.
"I love you," He whispered, as if that was all that ever needed to be said in reference to everything. Four hours and three words and I felt like I was dying too.
I stroked the face I knew as well as my own and breathed.
"I love you too. But you aren't going anywhere, so stop trying to say goodbye. Susan is getting you medicine and you're going to be just fine." I demanded firmly. He smiled weakly.
"I keep telling myself that, but it feels like I'm dying. Better safe than sorry, right?"
His voice calmed me as if it were my antibiotics, curing an infected heart and hope.
"You aren't going anywhere without me. I warned you that you're stuck with me forever and I meant every word of it. Wherever you go, I'm going." I replied confidently.
His eyes drifted shut and he sighed.
"Miley? Do you really believe everything is going to be okay?" He whispered, his voice strained. His tone confused me and it took me a moment to answer.
"I…yes. I do. I have a plan and I really think it's going to work." I said honestly.
He laughed suddenly and then started crying. My heart took the hit. His head bowed and he pressed his face into my chest as he cried more heavily than I'd seen him cry in years. I stroked his hair, my own eyes and nose burning. Jake's distress made the babies uncomfortable and they moved anxiously.
He lifted his head some, his face damp and his eyes red.
"I can't keep telling you that it will be okay because I will never be able to die peacefully knowing I gave you false hope." More tears trickled down his face. My heart seemed to ache with extreme pain almost like a gunshot.
"Jake, we've already been through this, you aren't dy—"
He cut me off, his eyes red and his voice rigid.
"Yes, Miley, I am. And so are you, and the babies, and Cole." His head dropped again as if the weight of this was too much. "The chances of us getting out of this alive are one in a million."
I sat in shock at his words, panic and pain pulsating through me. There were so many things I wanted to yell. I wanted to explain the plan and how it will work, I wanted to yell at him for saying things like that, I wanted to cry. I settled with shaky optimism.
"Well, it's a good thing we're experienced in the act of being one in a million." I said.
He shook his head, his eyes wide with panic, and he gripped my shoulders tightly. "I love you," He exclaimed as if it were my name and he was scolding me, "I love you too much to let you think we have a chance. Think about this, Miley. We are stuck. He has us cornered. God, if only you were on tour that summer Luke came there." He buried his face in his hands and I couldn't move.
"But if I was, I never would have ran into you." I whispered. He didn't move. "I never would have had Cole. I never would have married you. I never would have loved you like this." Silence. My nose burned more and tears pricked my eyes. "Is that what you wish happened?"
He pulled his hands off his face. "I wish you were happy and healthy and in a house somewhere warm. I wish you were married to someone you loved, but not too much, because it would only end up hurting you. I wish you had five beautiful, alive children and that you never cried over anything except happiness. That is what I wish happened."
I cried more. "I don't want that. I want you."
"You do want that. You just want me too. And unfortunately, I couldn't give you what you wanted." His voice held guilt and regret.
"None of what happened was your fault and you know it! This happened because of Luke! All of this happened because of him! Me and you happened because of him, the deaths of our children happened because of him, almost everything happened because of the events that occurred because I met him. I would rather have this life with you than have a perfect life with someone else. Please believe that." I was near hysterics.
He hugged me.
"I do believe it. I just wish…I don't know."
I sniffed. "Do you not think our life together has been good?"
He wiped his eyes. "We were hurt so many times, our children died, you got raped, and we're about to die a painful death."
I grabbed at his shirt, trying to get him to understand.
"But we had each other! Think of all the good times we have had! Do you honestly think it's been a terrible life?" I suddenly felt so drained.
"No! I just think it was an unfair life."
"Great love comes with great loss." I whispered. I sniffed and fixed his hair. "I thought you would understand that by now."
He kissed me.
"I never could regret you, Miley, or our life together. I just wish this didn't have to happen to you."
I grasped his shirt tighter. It was easier to feel like I was keeping a hold on him when I had him in my hands.
"Our life together is not over, dammit! Stop talking like it is! We are going to get out of this and we are going to be happy. You're just in pain and saying things."
He shook his head.
"He's doing it in the morning, Miley." He whispered. "We don't even have twenty-four hours left together. It's too late. I don't want to leave you." He broke down again and my heart rate accelerated.
"How do you know that?" I breathed.
"He knows you have a plan, Miley. He knew even before you and Susan went into the bathroom. He told me while you guys were in there. He gave us time to say goodbye."
"But he doesn't know what the plan is, right?" I begged. I pulled him closer to me. "We still have a chance!"
"I don't know if he knows what it is. But the plan you told me is going to take a little longer, time we don't have. This is all my fault. I should have forgotten his threat and just killed him before he even had a chance to reach the phone." He cried more. "I could have done it, Miley. I could have just walked up behind him and slit his throat. I was too afraid. And now our whole family is going to die." He sobbed into my chest and the tears seeped into me and ate away at my heart like acid.
"No, you couldn't risk Cole." I saved him, taking away his guilt and feeding it to the large guilt I had over the same thing. I really could have done it. And my fear of taking a life inadvertently killed my husband and my children.
"How do I say goodbye?" He choked out, his fists gripped around my shirt just as mine was around his.
I breathed painfully.
"You don't. There is no way to say goodbye to your life."
I never imagined the last few hours I'd be spending with Jake would be like this. I always imagined it somewhat like The Notebook, with both of us old and fulfilled. I pictured us dying naturally, of old age. Not being murdered by a man too strong and clever to overthrow. A man who had been emotionally and mentally breaking us down for years and years and was now going to slowly and painfully physically kill us. Jake was right, our life was messed up. And I always wanted to die with no regrets, but I could name so many right now. But meeting and loving Jake was not one, no matter what. Which, in a roundabout way, meant meeting Luke wasn't one either. Being kidnapped by Luke gave me everything, but it also led to events that took more from me than I had to be taken. I guess it's true what they say, you have to give to have room to receive. It's just unfortunate that I gave so much but never received half of it.
"Let's just talk." He whispered. I could tell he was going to fall asleep soon. I wanted him to rest and dream, where he could be happy and pain-free.
His head against my heart made it ache even more. Soon he'd be gone. At least I would be too. But our children…our babies and almost-grown son who would never get a chance to grow old. It wasn't fair. Maybe he would leave Cole alone. Just leave my son alone. Please.
"I don't want to talk about all the things we won't get to do," I sobbed into his hair. "I don't want to talk about birthdays we won't get to share, or places we won't get to see together, or the children we will never be able to see grow."
"Let's talk about the birthdays we did get to share, the places we did see together, and the child we did get to see grow." He murmured.
We talked of memories and it wasn't until right then that I realized for all I have done, I haven't really done much at all.
Jake fell asleep as we were talking about my twenty-first birthday. I watched him sleep until the moon had risen, and as much as I didn't want to lose a second with him, Hope was urging me along. There was no way I was giving up. Not yet. Everything had not been done that could be.
I walked into the living room and ignored Luke. He ignored me, which was very odd. I sat at the kitchen table and waited for Susan.
"She already dropped everything off."
I looked up at him. He pointed at the counter. I hurried to the bags. If I dissolved the pills into a drink would it have the same effect? If he knew he was taking them, he would just make himself throw them up. How could I do this without him noticing? Jake was right. This is hopeless.
I pulled the groceries out and felt like I might have a breakdown right there at the counter. This was the last time I would handle groceries, the last time I would think about things such as carbohydrates or calcium.
No, Hope stood on the faucet and screamed, NO. NO. NO.
If I didn't try…I had to try. A memory struck me. A memory of Luke, always eating off my plate. Could I somehow power the pills and mix them with mayonnaise or mustard and put it on a sandwich? What about soup? Soup would work better. Mashing them into powder wouldn't make them any less powerful would it? It would most likely make them kick in even faster.
I reached under the cabinet and pulled a pot out. I could feel his eyes on me. I got the broth out of the bag and poured a tiny bit into a bowl. I turned the burner on.
The idea came so fast I just acted without thinking it through. I pretended to trip, and I tried to balance myself on the stove. I purposely put my hand right on the burner.
"Ow!" I screamed in honest-to-God pain. "Dammit! Ow!"
I waved it around, the pain throbbing and aching. I quickly went to the bags and pulled out the box of Band-Aids. I ran to the bathroom.
Once I was in, I locked the doors carefully. I opened the box and poured all the dark red and white pills into my hand. They honestly felt like a miracle from God and I almost cried in happiness. I set them on the counter and looked for something I could grind them with. I found a bottle of hairspray and I used the bottom of the metal can to do it. I used to the edge of can to mush them and then I used a metal nail file to get the bits even smaller. I worked as fast as I could, but there were so many pills. By the last pill, I felt like passing out. When I finally finished, I looked for something to put the powder in. I settled for a small plastic bag that had Easy Flossers in them. I dumped the Flossers into the drawer and carefully scraped the powder into the bag, making sure I got all of it. I stuck the baggy into my pocket. I put Band-Aids on my burnt hand very quickly and then exited the bathroom. I hoped my frantic and nervous appearance would be written off as fear because of my impending death.
He watched me walk back over to the stove. I sniffed and my hands shook as I sliced vegetables. I only cut a small amount. Within minutes the soup was heating up on the stove. I felt nauseous and lightheaded. I couldn't stop shaking. When I could hear him flipping channels on the TV, I kept my back to him, and slowly pulled the powder out of my pocket. I dumped it quickly into the soup and shoved the package back into my pocket. I added salt to it, trying to appear natural. I stirred the soup for a few minutes until it looked normal and not poisoned. I put it in a bowl and sat at the table.
I stared at it. I picked at the bread I brought with it.
He sat down beside me, as I expected.
"Last meal?" He inspected it. "Looks like a good one to have, although I would want something a little more glamorous than homemade soup."
I shrugged, feeling like I was about to be sick all over the table.
"You don't look like you have an appetite at all." He observed. I took a tiny bite of bread. I picked up a spoonful of the soup. I let it fall back.
"I don't." I admitted weakly, trying to look like I honestly wanted to eat the soup but couldn't.
"Then why are you trying to eat?" He asked.
I pushed the soup away and rested my head on the table.
"It isn't for me. It's for the babies."
I resisted the urge to sing when I heard him pulling the soup over to himself.
"Well, since they're going to die in a few hours, this soup is better suited to nourish me."
Yes, it is. Do onto others and you would have them do unto you. He had me ache from the inside out, now it's his turn. Let him be torn and handled with sadistic hands.
I listened to him slurp it and right then nothing could ever have made me even doubt for a tiny sliver of a moment that there was no God.
"Needs a little more flavor." He commented.
Drink all of it. Please.
I listened to him drink it.
"Did you make any more?"
I was so happy I couldn't even think straight.
It couldn't be this easy. But maybe, for once, something was going to be easy. Maybe for once, I would win.
I lifted my hand, my sickness still there. It made me weak, trembling, and pale.
"No, I didn't make any more." I stood up shakily from the table and walked over to the counter. I grasped my hand around Jake's pills. It may be too late and we may be dead in the morning. But if not, I'm not risking Jake. I shuffled unsteadily from the kitchen and into the bedroom. I grabbed the glass of water off the side table and I sat on the edge of the bed. I lightly touched his neck. He stirred and I rested a hand softly on his forehead. His fever felt like it went down some.
"Jake," I whispered, "you need to take these antibiotics."
He opened his eyes and nodded. I gave him the dosage described on the label, and laid down beside him. He held me and I held him and it felt nice to hold the world instead of crumbling hearts.
"I'm so sorry for all the things I've ever done that have broken your heart. I'm sorry for yelling at you like I did that day in the sitting room." He looked like he physically felt better once he said that. I imagined that one of the most frightening things would be to think you were going to die before you got a chance to apologize to the people you love.
"It's okay. I am sorry, too." I kissed his face for all the years we shared, and I bleed for all the years we might not get to.
He turned his face and met my lips with his. The kiss was appropriate for an assumed last kiss: full of sorrow and lost dreams.
"I just keep thinking," he started, "that all those times we got in fights…we could have been loving each other."
We never stopped loving each other. He knew that and I knew that. It was an understood fact that didn't need to be spoken. But I knew what he had meant. All the time we were fighting, we could have been making happy memories.
I turned to say something, but he had already fallen asleep again. I kissed him once more and laid there, the terrible feeling of waiting for something abhorrent settling on me. There had to be something else I could do, some other way to prevent this. I couldn't make the drugs work faster, or hold him down and put alcohol down his throat. It would take so long to take a physical toll on him and all I could do was wait.
But there were other ways to destroy someone, much worse ways. He was the master of those. Maybe it was time to explain the art of treating people the way you want to be treated.
I sat down across from him. I immediately thought of the last time I tried to play mind games with him and I clenched my left hand. My ring dug into my flesh.
"I never imagined you'd be giving up the last minutes you have with him." Luke commented. He was opening a pack of cigarettes. I never saw him use them before, and he never smelled like smoke. Strange.
"It hurts too much to be in there." I said honestly. He pulled a cigarette out. He lit it with a lighter and leaned forward. He stared me in the eyes as he took a long drag and pulled it out. He blew the smoke right into my face. I held my breath and tried to wave it away with my hand.
"Do you love him?" He asked. I blinked, my eyes watering too much to see. I had to inhale, and when I did I started coughing. Once my lungs cleared, I answered him.
"Of course I love him. What kind of question is that? You'd have to be blind to not know that. I'd die for him. I'm pregnant with his children for God's sake."
He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and the smoke lazily drifted from his mouth. I cringed away from it, my thoughts on the babies.
"Being pregnant with his children means nothing." He tapped the cigarette and continued. "If you would have been pregnant with my child, as you thought you were, would you love me?"
He was acting so strange. I needed to know what his temper was like. I spoke straight from my angry heart.
"Nothing could ever make me love you."
His face stayed unaffected.
"Really? What if I waited on you hand and foot? Told you you were beautiful so often that you really started to believe it? What if I would willingly give my life for you, even though you would not do the same for me? What if I took care of you with a tenderness to rival a parent's for years and years, never, ever expecting or receiving the same from you? Would you love me then?"
He smiled as he saw he hit a sore spot. I pressed a hand over my heart and tried to ignore his words. He didn't mean it. He heard what happened with Jake and I the other day and he was just trying to hurt me.
"You don't have any idea what the relationship Jake and I have is like." I hissed, trying to hide my pain at his words. "Don't assume you know anything."
He exhaled and I imaged he was filled with black, curling smoke. "Touchy. Is the imbalance of your relationship a sour subject?"
Anger took over fear. "There is no imbalance."
He snorted. "Right."
Fury burned and vexed me. "Well what about your wife? It's obvious you only use her for convenience. I bet the poor woman cries everyday for the life she lost. Do you rape her too?"
He leaned forward calmly and slapped me across the face. I accepted the stinging pain.
"Don't talk about Alyssa." He breathed in the cigarette with new fury. He reached into a bag and pulled out gin. I stared at the dark sky while he opened the bottle. He poured the clear liquid into a glass.
"Would you like a last drink?" He offered me.
I rested hands on my stomach. I glared and shook my head. He laughed and downed the amount in his glass with one sip. He refilled it.
"You are foolish."
"You've told me that a million times." I mumbled. How do I break someone so cold hearted?
He set the bottle on the floor and leaned back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He set it on the table beside him and I longed to grab it.
"And yet, you never change." He took a sip of his drink.
Adeline kicked and I pressed a protective hand over where she was vulnerable.
"I will only change for people that are worth it. And you are not."
He swallowed a mouthful. "Only because you never gave the idea of me a chance."
I suddenly felt like I'd been drinking. Words got all muddled up and I felt more confused than I'd felt in a while.
"That's because there never even was an idea." I tried to make sense of what he said.
He stood up from his seat and walked to the kitchen. He looked in the refrigerator and pulled a lime out. He sliced it quickly and put three slices in his drink. He walked back to his previous seat and sat down.
"Yes there was. You had the option to be with me from the very start. You resisted. You never imagined what life with me would be like. The life you've lived was filled with bills and polite conversations. The life you could have lived would have been wild and spontaneous, with no rules." He took another drink.
I shook my head slowly.
"No…there wasn't. You liked me because I was a challenge, but as soon as I complied with your wishes, you wouldn't want me anymore. You want but then get angry when people always give you everything. That probably wouldn't make sense to someone who's never felt that way. It can be so terrible to always get what you want, even when you don't try to. You feel guilty and spoiled and you just want a challenge. You want to prove that you're strong enough to make it without people always bending over backwards for you. I was the challenge, because I didn't want you. For the first time, you had someone resist and ignore what you wanted. For once, you felt what it was like to be refused what you want. And to someone who's never been in a position where people always want to please them, they would rationally assume that you'd be happy just chasing the challenge. But not getting what you want makes you furious. It makes your skin crawl and your anger build. It makes you crave revenge." I stopped and swallowed, ignoring the fact that Luke and I suddenly had so much in common. "You're stuck in a never-ending circle, because no matter what, you can't be happy." I picked up my hands from my lap and touched my pregnant stomach. "Because you always want something you can't have, something you weren't supposed to have in the first place."
When I met his eyes he looked more frightened then I have ever seen him look before. I blinked back tears.
"And you just want to get past the circle so you can be whole for your family, because you're unhappiness and anger hurts them. You let your child fall in the cracks and you waste time with your spouse and you feel trapped." I shook my head and tried to stop talking about myself. It was so upsetting how easily I got the two of us mixed up. "So you have to kill me, because you're stuck in the circle, and the only way out of it is to have the temptation and want gone."
I thought about how that applied to me, and my ongoing struggle to have a baby. What if I would have done what he's doing, and just removed the temptation? If I had completely given up, which I had ended up doing, but if I had done it sooner…what would have happened? Would it have helped? What if, after Joy, I got my tubes tied and said no more children? I'd be without the babies I had now, but my life and heart may not have been so mangled. But having my heart and life mangled was worth bringing new life into the world.
"But you do have another choice." I whispered. I looked up and met his confused and bothered eyes. I took a deep breath. "It doesn't have to be this way. You have a daughter right? She's Cole's age?" I didn't wait for him to confirm. "Think about how you would feel if someone killed her. Our children are fifteen, almost grown. How would you feel if someone killed her? Can you imagine her, such a beautiful, young girl, lying dead in a casket? Have you even thought about what killing us will do it her? A girl worships her father. You aren't putting her first if you kill me. She knows what you're planning, and your relationship with her is probably damaged for a while. If you turn into a murderer, she will never respect you, trust you, or be able to feel safe around you again." I ran a hand over the babies. "Think about your daughter, Caitlyn, when she was tiny. What if someone would have killed her before she was born? What if someone would have killed your wife, Alyssa? You would have no one to fight for. They are worth struggling through this, Luke. If you love them, you'll do the right thing and see doctors instead of murdering. I know your wife will probably stand by you no matter what, but she will always have doubt in the back of her mind. She'll always be wondering if you'll lose it in the middle of the night and smother her. If she ever has another child she will always be wondering if she'll wake up with you holding a knife over her. Caitlyn will always fear you. Have you ever looked into your child's eyes and seen fear there, as if you were meant to hurt them instead of care for them? I haven't, but you will, if you do this. She'll be afraid to come home with a bad grade, afraid of what you might do to her. If she gets up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water in the kitchen, and you're there, she's going to be so scared. She won't want to go anywhere alone with you. You will lose your family if you do this. If there's anymore more fragile than life, it's trust."
As soon as I finished my speech, I watched him closely. Dozens of emotions ran over his face. He held his head between his hands.
"I can't think. My head is spinning." He picked up the gin bottle and peered at it. He laid back on the couch. His breathing was rough.
"Are you allergic to the truth?" I asked sarcastically, feeling a lot braver and happier that he was beginning to feel the side effects. He pressed a palm over his heart.
"My heart is beating so slowly," He gasped. His eyes kept drooping shut. When he got so weak that he couldn't hold his arm up, I stood up. I grabbed his phone off the table and he struggled to keep his eyes on me. His eyes widened and for the second time in my life I honestly surprised him.
"You…the soup…" he breathed harder, "I never thought…you were strong enough to physically hurt me…I expected the emotional…did you drug me? What did you do? You talk of how I shouldn't kill because of Caitlyn…how are you going…to explain to Cole that you…are a murderer?"
He wheezed more and I took the batteries out of his phone. I grabbed a hammer out of the drawer in the kitchen and I beat it to death. Then I took his phone and smashed it to pieces. He'd already destroyed ours, so the only other phone was the cord one in the living room, and he'd already gotten rid of that. I crossed the room and went through his jacket pockets. I had to be sure.
"Help me…" He wheezed. His chest heaved frantically and I could only imagine the suffocating feeling of his lungs refusing to inhale as they should. His hand grabbed mine. "Please...I promise I'll leave…your family alone…" His lips took on a particular purple hue. "Please, have mercy; call the hospital…help…"
I pulled away and avoided the face of the dying man. "If only you would have had mercy on me, if only just once, then I could have had mercy on you."
I went through his bag and the pockets of his laundry. When I found nothing, I hurried into the bedroom. I gently woke Jake up.
"We're leaving," I whispered. I pocketed his pills. His beautiful eyes were baffled.
"Going where?" He asked.
I grabbed his wallet and mine and put those in my jacket pocket. I pulled my jacket on and shoved my feet into shoes.
"To get Cole. I slipped Luke drugs; he's passed out on the couch. Hurry."
I helped Jake stand and he quickly got dressed. I changed my clothes as fast as I could. I grabbed a small bag and threw two complete changes of clothes for Jake and me in there, the pills, our toothbrushes, extra bandages, and the wallets. As I was walking out of the bathroom, I glanced in the mirror, and I found it unsettling that I was wearing a shirt the same color of the shirt I wore to the hospital when I was in labor with Isabella. The pants were even similar.
I threw some washcloths and a brush so I could wash my face and brush my hair at the airport, and I hurried out of the bathroom. Jake was fully dressed, and he even had a little color back to his face. His eyes took in Luke, motionless on the couch, and he looked back at me. His eyes held praise and wonderment and he kissed me. I broke it sooner than I wanted, but I needed to be out of here. I had to get away from Luke.
The cool, crisp breeze of fresh air danced over me like the breath of a newborn child and a small piece of me that had been hiding for so many years crawled out of the hole.
safety-- [seyf-tee]–noun, the state of being safe; freedom from danger or loss.
impetuous-- [im-pech-oo-uhs] –adjective, sudden or rash action or emotion that is impulsive: an impetuous feeling of safety.