She didn't know how much time had past when the distressing wailing finally subsided. Peyton wasn't sure what was worse, the silence had her stomach tied in knots, Sawyer's cries were painful but at least they signaled she was alive. The blood on her fingers had dried in the sweltering heat. She kept her digits spread rigidly, trying to refrain from being reminded of what her hands would be forever dyed with.
She was surrounded by blackness but yet she couldn't escape the vivid red of blood soaking into cream carpet, brown eyes turning black, pink flesh turning white, lips changing to blue.
She swallowed, her knees to her chest, her arms securely round them and her body rocking.
Her frenzied movements helped take her mind off the throbbing pain in her head, but only for a short while.
She didn't hear when he first entered her prison but the sudden bright light had her opening her sticky eyes.
'Where's Sawyer?' She croaked. She had pins and needles and stumbled as she stood, shaking the blood back into her legs.
He'd changed. He was in clean clothes. He looked immaculate in fact, no traces of the violent crime he'd committed.
He side stepped out of her way as she staggered back into the house, she hurried past the living room, the large brown stain left had bile rising in the back of her throat.
Sawyer wasn't in her playpen. She wasn't where Peyton had left her.
Panic flared up inside her and she shook, hurrying back out of the dark room.
'Where is she?' She screeched wildly. 'Where's my baby?'
'In her bed' Ian answered simply.
He watched her trip up the stairs with sudden haste, heading for their room.
But she halted in her tracks at another room, her eyes tracing the wooden letters on the door. They hadn't been there before. They were baby pink with white polka dots and clearly spelt SAWYER.
'I thought it was about time Sawyer had her own room'
The little girl had been sleeping in the same bedroom as both herself and Ian and Peyton liked it that way. She could keep her safe. She wanted to always be close to the baby.
'Bad habits start now. We don't want her not sleeping in her own bed hey?'
He opened the door himself.
It was white but the curtains and bedding had red flowers all over them.
If Peyton hadn't been so sick with worry she would have allowed herself to look around, she may have even considered the room beautiful.
However her legs carried her to the pretty white crib and she frantically scooped the baby from beneath the sheets. Her hands drifting over the little figure, her heart only returning to a normal pace when she felt Sawyer's heavy little breaths. There wasn't a scratch on her. She was perfect. She'd been changed and fed and had been peacefully sleeping.
'Did you really think I'd hurt our daughter?' He laughed at her.
'Get out'
His laughter faded and he made a step toward her.
'Stay away from me' She warned, her feet shuffling back against the floorboards. 'Stay away from us'
'Peyton-'
'No, you, you killed her, you k-killed G-Grace' She sobbed out. 'You're fucking deranged'
'Pey-'
'GET OUT' Sawyer whimpered at her mothers deafening growl and Peyton instinctively rubbed the baby's back, cradling her against her chest.
Ian, surprisingly, did get out.
Peyton sat against the wall, not daring to move.
'I've got you, I've got you Sawyer, Sawyer Grace Scott' She'd not come up with a middle name, she'd not wanted to without Lucas but now she new there was no other name for her to have. It had been Grace all along.
Sawyer Grace Scott.
Peyton stayed in the little room with Sawyer in her arms for the remainder of the day.
She was tired but sleep wouldn't come and everytime she let her eyelids flutter shut she was haunted by Grace's face.
It wasn't until late into the evening that she finally parted with Sawyer's comforting little body and settled the baby in the crib.
She needed to wash, her hands still coated in blood.
She wanted a scolding hot shower.
'Mummy will be back in a little while baby girl' Peyton promised, readjusting the blankets for the hundredth time.
She wearily made her way down the hallway.
He startled her when she opened the bedroom door. He was sitting on the bed, her nightdress in his hands, the nightdress he'd picked out for her, like all her clothing.
His face was set with a hard frown that made Peyton shudder.
'What're you doing?' Her voice threatened to break, quivering with unrelenting fear.
He was red with rage and his limbs were trembling as he clenched his fist around the silky material. She watched his muscles contract beneath his skin.
In an instant she was reminded of the first time he'd attacked her back when she was just a teenager. She could see bits of his former self in the man before her now, that uninhibited anger, something he'd kept tamed and controlled since she'd been here, was suddenly showing itself.
He threw the garment to the ground and stood abruptly.
'Ian' She stumbled back.
He unbuckled his belt and it hissed loudly as he jerked it from the loops on his trousers.
'Take your top off and turn around'
Her face contorted and her stomach twisted.
'Now'
'Please-'
'Now' There would be no reasoning. Something in him had finally snapped. The jealousy was too vigorous, influencing his every action. She loved Sawyer, she was in love with this little life and she couldn't hide that from him. He'd been patient, he was waiting for her to realise that she was in love with him too but she was yet to show it and now something in him had well and truly snapped. He'd waited long enough so he'd make her see a different way, she'd learn quickly this way.
Sawyer's sudden cries from down the hall were only fueling his rage and when she muttered her daughters name his foot thudded against the floor.
'Now Peyton'
She pulled her top over her head.
'Please don't. What have I done?' She exclaimed loudly. 'What have I done?'
His fingers ensnared her upper arm like a vice, so tight that purple finger marks would show tomorrow morning.
Instinct had her struggling, reeling her body toward the door.
He jerked her down and her knees crashed into the floor with a loud thump.
She scrambled, her flesh burning against the rough flooring and then his foot was on her back, the rubber sole of his shoe engraving into her skin. She couldn't breathe, her chest rammed painfully against the hard surface.
The first lash was the worst. The tough leather cracked wickedly against her fair skin, driving her body down against the carpet and she screamed as the pain choked her.
He didn't give her time to recover, he beat her
one,
two,
three,
four,
five,
six,
seven,
eight,
nine times more.
Her body soon became an amalgam of numerous aches and pains.
She wasn't even aware when he was done.
She couldn't move, she couldn't even feel, she was numb inside and out.
The severe, paralysing detachment from the situation sent her into a shivering cold sweat.
Her face was directed toward the door, her eyes open and blood shot but not seeing and her hair strewn messily.
He lent over her and touched her lightly, his fingers brushing against the clammy skin of her face in a corrupt imitation of a loving caress.
That night was merely the beginning.
With Grace's death came a change in Ian.
He was no longer calm.
He'd changed for her, he'd been everything he could and she still hadn't declared her undying love for him.
He was a prisoner of jealousy.
Over the next six months he watched her dote over Sawyer, he watched her love effortlessly.
It enraged him and with that anger came violence.
He beat her into submission.
There was no talking or persuading him otherwise, he'd once listened to her, her opinion no longer mattered.
He was determined to teach her respect, to teach her to behave correctly.
She'd love him. He'd make sure of it, if it was the last thing he ever did.
She was quick to learn things not to say. Any mention of Lucas, Erin and Grace had severe consequences. Any mention of her prior life wasn't a wise choice either.
She'd also learnt things to say. He liked being told that she found him attractive, he liked being told that she loved him, he liked being told that she was happy here, with him.
She'd been quick to learn the rules but keeping to them was easier said than done. After all she was just as stubborn as she'd been ten years ago.
Peyton pulled the door gently too, she'd just got Sawyer off for her mid afternoon nap. She was an easy baby, a surprisingly happy baby considering the circumstances. Peyton couldn't get over how much she smiled and gurgled.
As she made her way down the hall, slowly given her sore, aching body, the voices in the kitchen took her off guard.
Someone was here?
With silent steps she hurried down the stairs, coming to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen.
The back of a stranger met her eyes. He was wearing a scruffy looking suit and his hair was a mess.
'There you are. Peyton, this is a friend of mine, Michael' Ian's voice garnered her attention.
The man turned his head to look at her and she was immediately surprised at how vulnerable and nervy he looked. She also recognised him. He'd been in the newspapers, he'd been on the tv.
'Come and sit down'
She did as she was told, she joined them at the table. She didn't flinch when Ian kissed her hand, she forced a small smile and he smiled right back, satisfied with her behaviour.
'I'll just go get your money Michael' Ian stood, his controlling fingers reluctantly letting her go.
They both listened to his foot steps travel down the hall. Peyton waited until she knew he was safely inside his precious study before speaking.
'You're the reason my husbands in jail aren't you?' She declared evenly.
Michael fidgeted in his seat. His feelings toward Ian were mixed. He disliked the man but he also felt guilty for feeling so much hatred because Ian Banks was, after all, paying for his daughter's medication. He'd already been paid what he was owed but he needed more, Ian didn't have to help him. He was though and Michael was grateful. At least he told himself that. He told himself that as he looked this young women in the eye but it didn't make it any better. Her swollen lip and fragile figure made him want nothing more than to grab her hand and free her from this hideous lair.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
'You're not a bad person' She noted.
'Stop' He shook his head, looking down. That's exactly what he was, a bad person. 'Please don't speak'
'Please help me' Peyton was off her chair and suddenly sunk onto her knees before him. 'Please don't do this. Please help me'
'I-I'm s-sorry' Michael spluttered apologetically. 'I-I-I can't'
'You don't know what he's like. The things he makes me do, Please Michael' Desperation laced her voice.
'I-I-I n-need the m-money' He spluttered. 'M-my daughter's dieing'
Peyton's jaw opened and her brow furrowed. 'Ok' She nodded understandingly. 'But I, I have money. A lot of money. My husbands an author, I own a record company, I can help you, please'
'I'm so sorry'
'He killed someone, he killed Grace Lorrie, he killed her Michael, please you have to-'
'Peyton' Ian's voice made her jump. He was right behind her. She hated how he always managed to appear out of no where like creeping Jesus. His hand tangled in her long hair, titling her head back. 'What're you doing?' He sighed. 'Michael here is a dear friend of mine. Get up' She staggered to her feet to avoid being yanked up by her hair. 'Apologise'
'I-I'm sorry' She mustered.
'Poor Michael's got a lot on his plate at the moment he doesn't need your pathetic whinging does he? Hm?' He pulled her stiff form back against his chest and she held her breath as he kissed the junction between her neck and shoulder.
She looked an uncomfortable Michael dead in the eye, mouthing another desperate plea.
He looked away.
He didn't say anything when Ian turned her around and kissed her.
He looked away, he'd made his choice, he'd chosen his path. He couldn't help this women, if what she said was true- if he'd actually killed Grace Lorrie, he could be next and he wouldn't risk his or his family's life. He just needed to get out of here as quick as possible with his money and then he could go back to pretending that Peyton Scott didn't exist.