Chapter 35
I did as I was told and laid down across the bed on my stomach. I placed one of my pillows comfortably under my head and tucked my arms underneath it and just laid there with my eyes closed waiting for him to return. The mattress sank down as he climbed in and started moving around trying to find what was comfortable for him so he could start part two of his grand plan. He finally got himself situated so that he was on knees, straddling my legs; at least this way he was able to see and reach virtually everything.
"I see now why yer ex called ya Róisín Dubh. Never knew ya had tattoos or was I just not paying attention?"
I could feel a small smile tugging away at my lips as I tried to relax and slow my breathing.
"You just never paid attention. Funny you mention it because I had a very similar talk with Murphy about my tattoos this morning after you had just left for work. That rose my first one after I turned 18." I told him as I felt his fingertips trace along the blackened vines and thorns tattooed on my back.
The room was filled with silence with the exception of our breathing and the occasional sound of the lotion being squeezed out of the bottle. I was slowly falling asleep when Connor's voice broke the silence as he leaned over and started talking my ear.
"I want da rest of da story. What happened after he died?"
"I buried him."
"Well, I hope ya did. Wouldn't want da smell of festering flesh ta linger in under da hot sun, now would ya?"
"Something like that. That's what his father wanted me to do, it's sad to think that he didn't even care enough about his own son to want to do one decent thing for him in death. We'd go hiking in the canyons about once a week to try and clear our heads from all the mayhem that surrounded us. We had a spot that was well off the beaten path, not even his father knew about it and that man knew those canyons better than anybody. I had him buried there after I signed the papers to have his body released."
Connor's hands worked slowly and carefully around my neck. I breathed a sigh of relief as one spot in particular at the base of my skull was finally free from the strain that had been building throughout the night.
"The bag of money? I'm assuming he took a little of what he sold and put it in there before he turned the rest of the profits over to daddy dearest. Our plan was to get out of there when he had enough saved up. He wanted to get out and find somewhere where no one knew who he was, what he did, who his father was, or any of that. A buddy of his got him hooked on his own supply, before that he never touched the stuff; I guess you could say that he was normal once."
"Yer rambling again."
I knew Connor was right but it was bound to happen when memories are dredged from the bottom.
"I stayed for about six months after his death. In those six months I kept working at the bar; since he wasn't there to run the shop anymore I took on the job of being a full-time barmaid. Every now and then his friends would pay me a visit to see how I was holding up, but we lived in a town where no one cared about each other. They say they were just checking up on me but really they were looking for their next fix. They assumed that because he was their dealer that when he died I'd take over and be their dealer, that I'd be the one in the caves making their supply. I'm a lot of things Connor, but I'm not a drug dealer or a maker. I hated the fact that he was on meth and I hated the fact that he never even tried to quit."
"Ya willing ta submit ta a random lie detector test?"
"You bet your ass I will. I'll pass that fucker with flying colors too."
I hadn't realized my head shot off of the pillow until I saw Connor out of the corner of my eye with his hands up.
"Okay, okay, just teasing ya; no need ta get all defensive. Relax, alright? How'd ya manage ta get inta so much trouble out dere six months later? Murph told me about da night ya got arrested, how ya told him ya never had a record before dat incident. Clearly somet'ing happened dat ya ended up being wanted by da F.B.I."
"Do you want the long story that I told Smecker & Murphy or do you want the Cliff notes version?"
"I'll take da Cliff notes so ya don't have ta repeat yerself too much."
'How thoughtful,' I rested my head back onto the pillow, shutting my eyes briefly as Connor's hands slid over the side of my neck and across my shoulder.
"His half-brother was holding his own sister hostage in the motel their father owned, they both pushed the same meth into her they helped to make; Connor, he was raping her every day. It was about a month after he died, they went out of town to do something and I knew they were going to be gone the majority of the day. I waited about an hour and a half after they left before I got the key to the room she was in from the office. I got her cleaned up as best I could when you consider that she was fighting me the entire time. Her face was beaten, bloody, and bruised; she didn't even look like a person it was so bad. I put her in my car because I knew if she saw the truck she'd freak out even more. I drove up to the canyons and put her in one of the ones where they did not make their meth in; gave her enough food, water, and blankets to keep her for about a week or two if she rationed them out properly.
"I told her I'd be back for her as soon as I could. She was finally able to see through the haze enough to realize that I wasn't gonna hurt her; she was asking if she could stay with me but she had been through enough trauma that being in the house where demons dwell wouldn't do her any good.
"After I put her in the cave, I went back to the motel room and staged it to look like she broke out. I went home when that was done. My usual routine was to sit in the bed of the truck with a beer or a bottle of whiskey and just stare off into space trying to lose myself in my thoughts, trying to look at his death from another angle thinking of what I could've done different to prevent it. I was pretty broken to say the least and I was using alcohol to cope."
I could feel Connor's eyes on me as I took a moment to pause. My bottom lip trembled as the tears started welling up. The all-consuming thoughts were trying to take over as I once again waged an internal battle with myself of how this all could've turned out different.
"Yer allowed ta be broken when someone ya love is ripped from ya. Ya saw how broken I was when Murph was in da hospital."
His hands skimmed across my shoulders, fingertips moving swiftly to find the next patch of muscle in need of release.
"I watched from the truck as the black smoke billowed up from the bar. I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face at the fact that I was watching something burn, that I was capable of causing someone that much anguish that they would burn something that kept me physically trapped in that town. It was just a link in the chain that had broken and I was looking to break many more in the days and weeks that were coming.
"I heard the tires turn off the pavement onto the gravel, his old man was making his way to the house and was in one hell of a hurry. He got there and we went inside to talk. Well, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me like a ragdoll into the house and threw me onto the couch. Started screaming at me that she was missing and that he knew I was the mastermind behind it all. Yeah, he was right, but there was no proof to validate his accusations. He started slapping me around a bit, trying to get me to confess. Kept telling me that by not telling him the truth that I was only making my situation worse.
"His brother came up to the house shortly after that; picked me up by the throat and slammed me through the piece of shit coffee table. My head cracked against the floor and the next thing I know I'm curled up in the fetal position while they beat and kicked me. Who knew steel-toed boots could hurt that much?"
I could feel the anger rising off of Connor as I continued going into even more detail of my beating. Of how his brother broke five ribs from the kicks I had received, of how his father's fists struck my face until it looked about as swollen as Violet Beauregarde's was when she turned into a rather large looking blueberry; it was probably just as purple too.
"T'ank God ya lived t'rough dat. I know ya already know, but Murph and I would've killed 'em all a long time ago if we lived out dere. Dat way she never would've been raped by her own brudder and you never would've had ta go t'rough a beating like dat."
"The only reason I lived through it was because my ex had, I guess assigned someone to check in on me when he'd go out of town to keep tabs on me. He just so happened to come over while they were handing me my ass on a silver platter and got 'em off of me. He tortured the old man to death. He tied him down to a chair, laid him down on the floor of the house and did water torture on him. He didn't let the old man die right away; he drew it out for about four hours. In between the water torture, he'd stand him up in the bathtub and shock him with some kind of electric paddle while the tub was filled with water. When he got bored doing that, he'd take a knife from the kitchen and make some pretty precise marks across his body. They'd be in places where the bleeding would be sufficient, but not deep enough that it would kill him right away; he was slowly bleeding the old man to death."
"And where were you during all of dis?"
"On the couch with a bag of frozen peas on my face and a bag of frozen corn on my ribs. The ice maker broke a year prior and we just never got it fixed. As sick as it may sound, I wanted to watch him die; I wanted to see the life leave his eyes. I wanted my smiling face to be the last he saw so he could take it to the grave with him that he did not win, that he did not break me."
"So, ya killed him?"
"No, I never touched him."
"So, da old man's dead and yer a beaten, bloody mess. What about his brudder?"
"He was on the floor knocked out cold. When he came into the house and found me on the floor, the brother stopped what he was doing and went after him. He ran face first into a fist."
"Let me try and get dis straight. Yer ex dies after being pushed off a cliff, his half-brudder holds his own sister hostage, drugging and raping her daily, their Da does not'ing about it. A month later ya sneak inta da motel room and break her out, da bar burns ta ground, da two of 'em pay ya a visit and beat ya ta within an inch of yer life and out of nowhere yer guard dog comes ta da rescue. He knocks da brudder out and tortures their Da ta death all while yer sitting on da couch licking yer wounds and treating da swelling with frozen peas and corn. Sound about right?"
"Yeah, pretty much sums it up in a nutshell."
"What happens after dat? How do ya end up on da F.B.I.'s most wanted?"
"Like I said, this all happened about a month after my ex had died. From what Smecker had told me while I was being questioned, they were in town with a warrant to arrest my ex and his father. They had done a pretty large drug bust and were given information about their supplier; they had names, pictures, addresses. Just about everything you need to make a successful arrest provided no one came out with guns blazing. We had just left the house and passed these blacked-out SUV's heading that way; we looked at each other and just knew something was going to happen. Before we left, he told me to pack what I could and get in the car; we were going back to his place so he could get me cleaned up a bit. I grabbed the bag of money and a few changes of clothes and we left.
"I went into hiding after that; laid low for another five months until I was healed up enough to leave. News travels fast in a small town with a population of less than 100; when I found out that the F.B.I. had issued a warrant for my arrest, I put it out that I wanted the person who talked brought to an undisclosed location of my choosing, and I wanted them brought in alive."
Connor's hands stilled and lifted away slightly; the anticipation growing as he waited for me to continue.
"I didn't kill the person and I did not have a hit put out on them if that's what you're worried about."
A sigh of relief escaped, blowing my hair slightly as the air moved past my neck. Connor returned his hands to my body, this time working on the other side of my neck and the other shoulder.
"I had them brought out about 75 miles away from town, away from the cops, away from prying eyes and waiting ears. Connor, there is one thing you need to know about me that I did not tell Murphy and that is simply this: when someone goes against me, I get even. The person who ratted me out to the F.B.I., I had their mouth permanently shut. Not even St. Peter will be able to get them to talk at the pearly gates when he asks them to answer for what they did in their life."
"What did you do?"
His voice took on a tone that I had never heard before. Could that actually be the sound of fear?
"I had their mouth glued and sewed shut with the exception of a small opening so they could eat and drink through a straw. If I didn't do what I did that person would've wound up dead; thrown off of the edge of one of the canyons and left to the coyotes to feast on.
"I took my car and I left that night. I threw my bag of cash into the trunk and followed all the laws and rules of the road to ensure that I did not get pulled over. Took me a while since I had to keep stopping but I finally made it back home after being out on the road for a week. The first thing I did when I crossed the river was go to my cousin's shop and had her strip that ridiculous blonde dye from my hair and re-do it in a shade of red that was as close to my natural color as I could get. When she was done, I got back on the road and drove about a half hour to my parent's house. All they needed to know was that my ex was dead; they didn't need to know his death was six months before, they didn't need to know what I did in those six months, and they didn't need to know that I had a warrant."
Connor's hands had finally moved to my back. He was working with a renewed effort to get as many of the knots out as possible. I could feel him determining which places held the fewest knots, which spots could be easily taken care of, and which would prove to require the most work.
A silence fell over us as I allowed him to take in everything I had told him thus far. He wanted the entire story and he was certainly getting it. Opening an eye, I glanced at the digits of my alarm clock as they read 1:49 a.m.
"I won't ask ya fer anymore tonight, don't t'ink I could handle it at da moment."
"Connor, you kill bad guys who do bad things to good people. You are an executioner, how can you handle all of that but not be able to handle the stories of my past? Part of being in a relationship with someone is having to deal with their past issues; you asked for this, you asked me to tell you about Utah. I didn't just decide to tell you about it out of the blue."
Again he remained silent until I felt a thought pop into his head. Changing the subject was not going to get me to stop my tales. It would only end up bringing a new set of memories to the surface and a new set of questions to be answered.
"So tense, ya have more knots den ya did da last time I gave ya a back rub. Dere's more to it den everyt'ing dat's happened in da last 48 hours and I'm sure work and school play inta dat somehow. Dere's somet'ing else dat's eating away at ya dat's causing ya ta feel like da weight of da world is on yer shoulders."
His fingers were digging into a particular spot on my right side just under my shoulder blade trying to work the knots out of the muscles. There were a few more skeletons that still remained in the closet but I wasn't about to tell him what they were at this point in time since he didn't want to hear anymore tonight. I figured a few small truths would suffice until I was ready to release the next skeleton to bury it.
"Charlie left me a message on my phone while I was being questioned that he cleaned my desk out and was coming by in the morning to drop my stuff off and to get my badge. He said he can't be friends with me anymore because he says I'm a felon. You were there when Smecker said the charges were dropped; I'm not a felon. As far as I'm concerned, those charges don't become official until the judge brings the hammer down."
"I know yer not but if dat's da way he sees ya den it's probably fer da best dat t'ings between ya are ending. He was not'ing more den a vent fer me and Murph ta learn more about ya."
"What do you mean a vent?"
"You weren't reading da signs too well; when we'd ask ya ta go ta bar with us and we'd start asking questions about ya da answers were always too vague or ya'd shrug 'em off and refused ta answer 'em at all."
"Connor, I was reading the signs you two were sending out just fine. Knowing what you know now, do you blame me for being so evasive? I didn't want either of you to know anything about me. It sounds stupid as fuck but I thought you were just looking to get me drunk and yourselves laid."
"Ya should know better by now dat dere's more ta us den drinking and fucking. Never had ta work dis hard ta get ta know someone a little better. Yer an enigma dat I want ta try and figure out. Know dat I'll never be able ta do dat in dis lifetime, but it doesn't mean I can't try."
"I like being an enigma to you; it makes things more interesting. You'll be able to learn something new about me almost every day and you'd still never be able to figure me out completely."
"What else ya got on yer plate dat ya need ta get off?"
"I'm going back to Utah for a week in June. I was going to visit his grave like I did last year and to see some of his friends that still owe him money. He's dead, I know, but a debt is a debt and it needs to be re-paid. Besides it was my money to begin with before he borrowed it from me to give to them. I never asked what it was used for or how it was going being re-paid; I only cared about getting it back. I'm nervous as hell to go back there but I have to, there is some unfinished business that I need to take care of. Under no circumstances are you or Murphy allowed to go with me or follow me there. If his buddies saw you with me they'd kill you both and I don't want to be the one having to make that phone call to your mom. The only reason I'm saying anything is because I need you guys to take care of the cats for me while I'm gone."
I figured that since they stood up to the plate to take care of them while I was gone for Christmas that I could trust them to do it this time if formally asked. They had refused to take the money I was going to pay Charlie during those two weeks but did allow me to pay them in food.
"Where would ya stay while yer dere?" His hands had moved from my shoulder blade down to the middle of my back, kneading away at another group of tightly knotted muscles. His voice taking on a more serious tone, losing the light-heartedness it once held.
"At his house. It sounds strange but it was the only place I ever felt safe at when I was living there. Nobody in their right mind would venture to go anywhere near the house because of that crazy fucking dog in the first place but anyone who made it past the dog would have to get through him and if he wasn't there then he made sure I knew where the guns were. The only thing I'd have to do is call him and he'd drop everything to come home to take care of the rest."
"Ya make it sound like ya've done t'ings before and he had ta clean up."
Moving an arm out from under the pillow, I grasped Connor's hand, playing with his fingers for a moment before I pressed the question.
"Do you think you can handle a confession after everything I've told you so far?"
"I'm no priest so whatever ya say won't stay confidential, just so ya know."
"Connor, I'm being serious. Can you handle it, yes or no?"
"I can handle it."
Connor took his hand from mine, laying it across my shoulder as he moved off of my back to make himself more comfortable. He settled on his stomach next to me, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear; his thumb sweeping and caressing the skin under my eye as I tried to figure out the best way to tell him. I guess brute honesty was going to be the best approach.
"One of his friends came over to the house late one night, drunk as a fucking skunk. He was out in the caves making another batch to be shipped out of state. His friend tried to rape me while I was in bed sleeping; he managed to get my pants down to my knees and my shirt pushed up over my chest. I grabbed the gun that he kept under his pillow and shot him. It was pitch black inside the bedroom, but when I flipped the light on he was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood with a single shot to the head.
"I called him when it was all over and he pretty much dropped everything and came home immediately; he knew I wouldn't have called him at three in the morning if something wasn't right. By the time he had gotten home I already had the blood in the bedroom cleaned up, the body wrapped up in a tarp and tied up ready to be disposed of.
"After I hung up the phone, I pulled all of his teeth out of his skull, cut his fingers off, carved out the tattoos he had; anything that the police could visually use to identify him I took, even his eyes. He tried to rape me and I didn't think that he deserved to be identified, didn't think he deserved anything short of what he got. When my ex came home, we loaded the body into the car and we drove out to the canyons to dump him. I drove the car he came over in and my ex followed me in the truck. We put the car on the cliff, filled the trunk with lighter fluid, lit it up and sent it over the edge. We got in the truck and went home. He told me later that he was proud that I could handle myself in situations like that but thought I went a little overboard when I told him I took his eyes out."
Connor looked at me with sheer terror plastered across his face as I waited to see what he would do with this information. His thumb stilled its movement, his eyes searching mine in the hopes that my confession was nothing short of a lie. As much as I wanted to touch him I kept my hands where they were out of fear that he'd jump out of bed and head straight for the door.
"Certainly wasn't expecting dat confession ta come out but dose are da kind of evil men dat Murph and I work hard ta put down. Ya did not'ing wrong in defending yerself from a potential rapist but I do agree dat ya went overboard with da whole taking his eyes out."
I watched with a bit of uncertainty on my face as Connor pushed himself up, hovering above me momentarily before leaning in to whisper in my ear.
"Turn over onta yer back fer me."
A deep sigh escaped as I did what I was told, still feeling nervous that at any point Connor was going to get up and just leave.
"Can I make another confession?"
"If yer in da mood ta confess, ya really should be going ta church with us on Sundays. Da Monsignor's heard plenty out of da two of us about what we've gotten up ta with ya and everyone else we had before ya. Ya should've heard some of da stuff Murph was confessing too when he started having all of dose dirty dreams of ya when he was out screwing around with da whore he was with."
My eyes popped open as the words left his mouth. His lower jaw hung low at the realization of what he just said.
"He told me about her; so much has gone on today that I can't keep it all straight but I do remember when we had our shouting match I told you she called saying she got herself pregnant and tried to pin it on him. Still has me worried that if he did it to her that he won't do the same to me."
"You shouldn't worry about dat, he's too fascinated by ya ta wander off. He's a damn nutter too if I've ever seen one."
"Back to the original question: can you handle another confession?"
"I suppose, not another murder is it?"
"No, not another murder. He wasn't the first that tried to rape me, the other two were tourists. I almost felt bad for one of them; he started feeding us a sob story about how he was there with his wife and kids, begging us to just let him go. If he was telling the truth, he wouldn't have been in the bar that night trying to rape me in the women's bathroom. Everyone that came to town stayed at the motel that his father owned and they all had to drive past the shop that he owned and ran. He was an extremely vigilant person; that asshole never had a wife and kids with him when he came to town. He was just looking to have a good time with someone he thought would be an easy mark and he picked the wrong person after I told him no. My ex walked into the bar and caught him sliding his hand down the front of my jeans while I was sitting on my stool waiting for the old man to come back with dinner."
"How is it dat ya wind up in Utah with someone who makes, takes, and sells drugs? Why would dere be so many attempted rapes against one woman? What was it about ya dat made ya da hot commodity in town? I want ta understand dis, I really do, but ya need ta tell me."
Connor had scooted himself down to the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged with my feet in his lap, his fingers working their magic on my sore arches.
"I don't know how in the hell we ended up together, but we did. It was a small town, maybe a hundred people or so. I guess people thought that with small towns it wouldn't matter who got raped, who got their shit stolen. Couldn't be further from the truth, with small towns word travels fast when the local dealer's girlfriend has something attempted on her. If you wanted your drugs from him, you had to pay up and keep your hands to yourself. He got to me first and in a twisted way I'm glad he did; his friends were worse off than he was, his brother was just creepy, and his father was terrifying. I think that if someone other than him got to me first I'd probably be either dead or held prisoner in one those caves with track marks everywhere.
"You and Murphy will both understand in due time that what happened in Utah has been forever imprinted upon my mind. What happened there will never leave me no matter what I do to try and forget about it. There are things that happened there that I will never tell either of you about because it just hurts too much to re-live those memories. Knowing what I know now that you two are the Saints, I figured telling you the truth about the murder I did commit wouldn't look so bad because they did try to hurt me and I did fight back."
"Good point, had ya committed dose murders senselessly and without just cause it would've looked pretty bad from our point of view. Anyt'ing else ya wanna get off yer chest tonight?"
I sighed deeply as he started working his way up from my feet to my legs, paying careful attention to how his hands and fingers kneaded the flesh under them as he tried to make this as relaxing as possible. I was proud of him to the say the least that he actually listened and was making this experience as little about sex as he could. There was quite a bit that I wanted to tell him but as I reminded myself again, I don't want all the skeletons falling out of the closet at one time. One more truth wasn't going to be the end of the world; hopefully after this we'd both be ready to fall asleep and tomorrow would be a fresh start to a new day.
"I don't know how to begin to understand what you and Murphy see in me. With my ex it was easy: he saw me as a fresh piece of ass and as someone who could take was given to them and dish it back out with just enough tenacity to get their point across. What do you two see in me that makes you want to try and fix me? I have my share of problems but I'm not as far gone as what my sister makes me out to be."
"I can't speak fer Murph, you'd have ta ask him dat yerself. We've both talked with Charlie, Ryan, Aoife, and yer sister. Dey've all told us different t'ings about ya. Charlie and Ryan have told us dat ya like ta have fun but with yer anxiety ya can't handle large crowds. Kind of explains why ya prefer ta hang out at McGinty's with us as opposed ta some of da more popular, upscale places dat we'd never be able ta afford ta take ya ta; ya deserve ta have someone who can afford ta buy ya da t'ings ya want. We would never ta be able ta do dat fer ya. Dey've also told us dat yer a bit of a kinky lass and I found dat out fer meself; I love it when I can have my way with ya and use da rope at da same time.
"Aoife's told us dat ya don't trust people, especially men. With t'ree attempted rapes, I can't say dat I blame ya fer not trusting us. But not all men are out ta get ya like dat; Murph and I work hard ta make sure people like dat are done away with so dey can never hurt anot'er innocent person again. Yer sister's told us how big of a heart ya truly have and ya wear it on yer sleeve. No matter what life t'rows at ya, ya try ta see da good and positive in everyone and every situation and by da time ya've gotten yerself involved ya've already figured out how good or bad it'll get. She said ya could sniff out a lie quicker den a dog sniffing fer drugs. She called ya an optimistic pessimist; I could see where she's coming from t'ough. She also told us dat yer capable of giving a lot of love to dose who need it.
"I told ya before dat nobody would've done what ya did fer me when Murph was in da hospital. Really dat was da t'ing dat drew me in, I want someone who can take care of our dumbasses and can handle us when we start acting like five-year-olds when we get hurt. I wanna be able ta come back ta someone after we do a job and just be held. What we do is not easy and I need someone who can help me decompress and won't ask questions as soon as we walk t'rough da door. In just da few months we've gotten ta know ya, ya give us da space we need without ever knowing we need it and ya don't ask questions on how we've gotten hurt whether it happened at da bar, at work, or out on da street."
"Murph has his reasons fer saying what he did and fer what he told Ma about ya; I cannot answer dose questions but I can say fer certain dat what I see is a strong woman who won't be held down, who will fight back, and is not afraid to kill ta protect herself. You'll do what has ta be done and at da end of da day when yer ready ta wind down and ya can't for whatever reason it may be I want ta be da one who can do dat fer ya. Yer right, not everyt'ing has ta be a lead-in inta sex; if a hot bath and massage is enough ta put ya ta sleep, ta quell da nightmares fer a few hours den dat's what I want ta do fer ya. I understand dat ya may not be able ta put yerself before ot'ers but I want ya to try from now on ta do somet'ing fer yerself at least once a day. If ya can't do dat den do somet'ing fer yerself either once a week or once a month; Murph and I will take care of da rest."
"I don't want someone who can buy me the finer things in life; I just want someone who gets me, someone who can put up with my fears, nightmares, insecurities, pissy mood swings, and act like nothing is wrong when it's that time of the month. I could care less about material things and money; you and Murphy could be dirt poor living in cardboard boxes on the streets below and I wouldn't care. As long as I had one or both of you around, I'd be fine. For God's sake, I was living with and sleeping with the scum of the earth but I didn't care, you know why? He took care of me in a way that no one had before and I took care of him in the same way. We both did things for each other that neither of us was used to but we learned pretty quickly that what we did was okay. He never bought me anything or gave me gifts out of the blue, we never went on any dates; he gave me about $100 a week for grocery shopping and he'd take me out to the bar every once in a while to drink with his friends. I did the traditional 'woman's work' but when I wasn't doing any of that I was either helping him run the shop or in the next town over collecting on the debts that were owed to him."
"How could ya collect on his debts? Dose people were all drug users, what could ya possibly do ta elicit enough fear in 'em ta pay up?" he asked, the light-heartedness in his voice returning as he leaned over me to start working on my shoulders and collarbone.
His thumbs were currently sweeping over the column of my throat as his voice soothed me further into the sleep that was calling my name. Connor was so close that I could breathe him in and if it wasn't for the fact that I was still recounting my life's story, I could fall asleep now completely surrounded by him.
"They all found out what I did to his buddy. He kind of started bragging about it and word travels quickly in small towns; a woman threating to cut your sack off is one thing but a woman who will take your eyes out of your skull without batting a lash is another. Do you want to go to sleep first and wait until morning for me to answer your question from earlier tonight or do you want an answer now and a new start tomorrow?"
"Remind me ta tell Murph ta never piss you off. What was da question again?"
"How I got all the way up here without raising suspicions."
"I'll take option two and would like answers tonight and a new start tomorrow. Yer new start will begin once you and Charlie part ways. If ya don't have any plans in da morning after he leaves, wanna go down ta da diner with me fer breakfast?"
"That's fine with me, I'm out of a job for right now anyway. It's not like I'm going to be super busy anymore. Like I told Smecker, I legally changed my name after my ex got me mixed up in some shit he never meant too; I'll tell you that one over breakfast. I used my birth name to get that job at the museum and to get into school. I lied on the applications when they asked if I had gone by any other aliases. The forensics lead down at the station is asking me to fill out a new application for the internship using my birth name even though that's what I did the first time. For some reason I let my ex talk me into dyeing my hair blonde after we got out so after he died I had my cousin, who works at a hair salon, strip the dye out and re-dye it until my natural color started coming back in."
The answer seemed to satisfy him for the time being but I was fairly certain that he'd come up with more questions to ask in the morning over breakfast. Until then I would just have to keep telling myself that tomorrow is a new day and a new start. Cracking an eye open, I watched him place the bottle of lotion on the bedside table for the night and switch the lamp off. I was overcome with a sudden chill as he rolled off of me and made a grab for the blankets at the end of the bed, throwing them over our shamelessly naked bodies. I rolled over onto my left side and readjusted my pillow before sinking into sleep. The comforting weight of an arm thrown over my waist and the other snaking its way through my hair and wrapping around my neck and shoulders provided that familiar feeling of being safe again. Being pulled into his chest brought back the sense of being loved again. The nightmares were coming once more in a few short hours but maybe I will have one less than I did the previous night.
"Still can't believe ya let him mark ya up da way he did, whether ya wanted him ta do it or not."
I could feel Connor's fingers running over the teeth impressions on my left side as I slipped in and out consciousness.
"I wanted him to and he was more than happy to oblige. The teeth and his name on my neck are not the only marks I have from him."
I didn't realize I said it until Connor switched the lamp on again, taking it off of the nightstand and throwing the blankets back to examine me more closely.
"Ya let da bastard bleed ya out?!"
He practically screamed it loud enough that the neighbors were banging on the wall between our units. I was lying on my back with Connor straddling my hips, holding the lamp above my stomach where the scar ran from my chest down to my stomach; much like how a coroner would create the end of a Y-incision on a person they were about to open up.
"He did not make that mark, someone else did and it was not consensual when it happened. Even though I let him partake in a little bit of knife play he was more into bondage. You know that black rope in the closet that you like so much? The one with the frayed ends and coming apart in different places? That was his favorite piece of rope. The marks he left ran deeper and lasted longer than the ones you and Murphy have put on me. I don't just mean visible marks, there are emotional scars too."
Connor looked uneasy but temporarily satisfied that my ex did not cause the injury that he found. I watched as he set the lamp back down on the nightstand, switching it off once more. I turned back onto my side to look out the window; it was a half-moon tonight and even with the clouds blocking out a good portion of the light there was just enough coming in to cast a shadow on the fire escape. For a second I thought I saw something outside but it was gone all too fast for me to process what it could have been.
My head became disconnected with the pillow for a brief minute; Connor was re-wrapping his arm under my neck and across my shoulders, pulling me back into his chest.
"I've had to be strong for so long; can I even allow myself to be anything less? Can I let myself be broken?"
It wasn't meant to be answered, it was just one of those fleeting thoughts that I openly ask myself just about every night when I stare out my window into the blackness. Thinking back on what Murphy had told me, when he confessed to watching me from the window as the nightmares would take over, I couldn't help but wonder if he was watching both Connor and I now. If he was taking in the scene of his brother trying to help relieve the tension that had been consistently building over the days, weeks, and months since I came back home from my extended Christmas break. Maybe that's what I saw a moment ago, or maybe that's what my mind is trying to trick me into believing.
"Yes, ya can. I'll be dere ta put ya back together, Murph will be dere ta put ya back together. I know it's hard fer ya ta let yer guard down but ya have ta trust what I'm telling ya."
"It's easier said than done. I'm not doubting that it's not possible, but if you could've seen everything that I've had to deal with you would see why I always have to keep my suspicions about me. For three years I've been hiding in plain sight and for those three years I've had to constantly look over my shoulder and keep one eye open when I sleep."
"How much of what ya told me does Murph know?"
Connor somehow managed to pull me even closer; I ended up rolling onto my back so I could see his face. Even in the darkness, the thinnest stream of moonlight that came into the room showed the concern in his eyes that had remained throughout the night.
"Not nearly half as much as what I told you. I know what you're going to ask next and the answer would be that he didn't ask the questions that you did. If you don't ask, I won't tell. If Murphy has questions he wants to ask, he's more than welcome to do so. Until that time it is what it is."
"Where were ya before ya came here?"
"I was living in Chicago before I came here; I was working for another museum at the time. It was a Friday night and I had just gotten paid so I was gonna head for home, pay the rent, pay the bills and spend a little bit at the bar. That was the plan but as we all know with plans not everything works out. I was getting off the bus when someone shoved me from behind, I fell to the ground and someone was nice enough to help me back to my feet; I thanked them and tried to go on my merry way but they held a grip on my arm and dragged me to a black Lincoln with blacked out windows."
A shudder ran down my back as I started to relive the moment, watching it flash before my eyes as everything happened once more.
"Hey, dey're not gonna hurt ya anymore. Dey'll have ta get past me and Murph ta get ta ya."
I nodded before I pressed on.
"They put a bag over my head, tied my hands, and threw me into the trunk. Being claustrophobic, I naturally freaked out; I guess I was making so much noise that they pulled over somewhere and got out because the next thing I know they're shoving a needle in my arm and I'm passed out a few seconds later. Somehow or other, I managed to get the bag off of my head, as soon as the trunk was popped open I tried to get out; at least I did try before they shoved that needle in. I woke up later in a room stripped naked with a rag stuffed in my mouth strung up by my arms and my feet weighed down with cinder blocks. They kept asking where my ex was, where their supply was. I had no idea what he made stretched that far out. There were five of them; they each took turns beating the holy hell out of me and when I still refused to talk-"
I broke off as the images of what they did to me flood my memory. For the first time, in a long time, I let myself break, I let myself be weak, I let myself cry. My hands shook as I tried to hide my face. Through the tears I managed to pick out Connor's form; he was on his knees leaning over me, pulling me up by my wrists to settle me in his lap. One hand was in my hair, the other pulled me impossibly close to him, rubbing my back. His voice spoke placating words of comfort as he tried to calm me down.
"Ya don't have ta say what dey did. Ya don't have ta say anymore, I won't put ya t'rough dat pain anymore. C'mon lay back down. I won't let 'em get ya."
Somehow I felt like I was six years old again; when I'd wake up from a bad dream and go to my parent's room. Remembering how I'd wake my mom up and she'd let me sleep in between them; how my dad would tell me that he wouldn't let the monsters in those bad dreams hurt me anymore that night.
Reluctantly, I laid back down on the pillow still shaking as the recollections of those two weeks rocked me to my very core. Connor pulled me close, keeping his hands where they were until he felt that I was calm enough to breathe a little easier. It didn't dawn on me until later that I found myself nuzzling his neck, trying to find some kind of familiarity in him to provide that sense of being safe. Although I wasn't going to say anything to him about it out loud, the soothing words and the comforting touch of his hands did help more than he could ever imagine.
"Is dat how ya got dat scar on yer stomach?"
The question was posed as gently as Connor could make it; uncertainty was behind each word as it escaped his mouth. He traced the fingers of his free hand along the jagged line as I winced at the memories it continued to bring up. Each day for those two weeks I was there they would open it further and further. I was told that one day they were finally going to cut through and watch in delight as my guts spilled out onto the floor.
Swallowing hard, I nodded against his chest, acknowledging that I got the scar as a result of what happened while living in Chicago.
Silence ticked away into the night as I fought to slow my heart rate. It almost fell into a steady rhythm once more when Connor's voice in my ear startled me a bit, sending it racing all over again.
"May be a bit hard ta believe, but when we were little and she was sober Ma used ta tell us da story of Oisin and Tír na nÓg. Ya wanna hear it?"
A lazy smile started forming across my face as I reached a hand up to wipe away a few stray tears. Much as I hate to admit it, I love this man and I love how much he's trying.
"Do you know the shortened version of it?"
Connor placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head before he started the story. It was one I had heard before while I was an undergrad. When I was learning Irish and was preparing for my final, my professor had me memorize the entire story in Irish. The hard part was reciting the entire story in Irish; with the exception of a few mispronunciations, I managed to get a 97 on my final.
I fell asleep somewhere in between when Oisin and Niamh were married and Oisin taking the white horse back across the sea to Ireland. The last thing I heard before falling asleep for the night was Connor's voice in my ear telling me he wasn't gonna let them hurt me again. My head was pressed against his chest as I heard the rhythm of his heart slow with his breathing. I couldn't help but think how right Connor's earlier question was. Why couldn't we just stay like this, why couldn't we tell the world to go fuck itself and we stay just as we are. And then I remembered that he was one half of the infamous Saints. This world needed him as much as I did. This world needed Murphy as much as I did.
Connor only told me a little bit of an old man with a gray beard and a vest holding six handguns; told me that he was waiting for them after a job they had done. I had a nagging sensation that what Connor did tell me about their outlaw lives as The Saints was selective and would only answer the questions that were asked. He was taking evasive measures much like I was when it comes down to how much knowledge is too much. I never would've imagined that this was what they did when they left after dinner; since Rocco brought it up it may be best to ask him for the full story the next time I saw him. There's much more to it than what Connor's telling me.
One last evanescent thought that crept into my mind before the sound of his heartbeat put me to sleep for the night was what would happen to them while I was out of town in June taking care of business. My gut was telling me that something was going to happen and what that something was I couldn't be sure but I knew it wasn't going to end well. I was never the praying type but I offered one up in the hopes that I was wrong for a change. Something big was going to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.