Surviving Love (Surviving #2) (4 page)

She finally got out of the car, her hands shaking violently as she closed the door. She refused to look at me, her face was pale and her eyes puffy and swollen.

“I hope he rots in hell for what he’s done,” I snap. “He—”

“He’s dead,” she said, shutting me up. “A little...they pronounced my son...dead...” She sobbed and wiped at her eyes with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for what he’s done. But right now, Lou, I need to process that...I’ve just identified my son’s body, and the last time I got to see him was on a morgue table after he’d tried killing his girlfriend. I don’t have a soul to turn to because he—” She covered her mouth as another cry echoed around us. “I'm sorry.” She walked towards her house leaving me flabbergasted by the fence.

“Well bugger me,” I whispered to thin air. I hadn’t thought through my anger. Tears sprang to my eyes when I thought of her alone in her house mourning the loss of her boy. He was a bastard and I hate him with all I have, but I don’t hate Jill and no parent should be in her position right now. I stared at her closed door for a while before realising I looked like a garden gnome stalking the neighbours.

Back inside, I looked at the clock and realised Johan was still in the shower. “This is ridiculous, no one takes two hours in the shower.” I walked down the hall towards the bathroom and knocked on the door. When I received no answer I knocked again and called out his name. Nothing.

A sense of foreboding hit me, an ominous shiver slid down my spine. The tiny hairs at the nape of my neck stood at attention. I knocked louder and tried the door. It was still unlocked. I grabbed the towels and held them to my chest.

“Johan, I have your towels, is everything okay? It’s just you’ve been—” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Johan?” I gasped when I saw him curled in a ball at the foot of the shower shivering. I could feel the cold blast coming from the icy water. His teeth were chattering so loudly I could hear it over the spray. His white shirt clung to his body and his black boxers moulded around his thighs like a second skin.

“Johan?” I called softly, stepping towards the shower. I opened the screen door, then turned the knob to the hot setting, trying to warm him up. As steam began filling the bathroom and hot water hit his trembling shoulders, he looked up with a panicked expression on his face.

“No, turn it off, they ’ll hear the heater. They’ll know.” His voice sounded odd, almost childlike and his accent was thick.

“Who will know? I’m here, I—”

“They can’t find us. If we use the hot water they’ll know.” His whispers turned loud as he looked around the room in total panic.

I climbed into the shower and sat beside him. It felt a little stupid sitting on the floor of the shower with him but I didn’t know what else to do.

“Who are
they,
Johan?”

“In the big house, they’ll know we’re here. He said I had to stay quiet,” he whispered. He lifted his hand and pointed towards the door, then frowned staring at his hands. “I can’t get it off. It won’t come off. Look, I...it won’t come off,” he choked as he held his hands out in front of him. I couldn’t see anything on his hands; they were clean, completely pruned and wrinkly from the water.

“What’s on them?” I asked gently. I felt like I was talking to one of the kids in class.

“Her blood, it’s everywhere.” He sobbed. His hands shook as he twisted them wiping at imaginary blood.

“Sweetheart, nothing is there.” I put my hands around his, and he pulled away from me so fiercely he banged into the side of the wall. I flinched for him because that had to have hurt.

“Don’t touch me, I’m vile. You...I can’t spoil you,” he gasped, curling into the corner away from me. Tears mixed with the water on his face.

“Johan, you can’t spoil me. I’m going to clean you, okay? Together we will get you clean.” I shifted towards him slowly.

“I’ll spoil you. I make everything bad,” he said pleadingly. I paused, puzzled by the beautiful, broken man before me.

“No you won’t, I promise. Come here...please,” I begged. I held out my arms hoping he would come to me. The shower cubicle wasn’t large but the way he was pulling away from me, it was as if the Grand Canyon stood between us. I could see the indecision in his face before he moved into my arms. I wrapped myself around him, cradling him to me as he sobbed loudly. He gripped at my wet clothes, as if he wanted to be as close as humanly possible. I stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head, whispering loving words to try to soothe him. The water had warmed his skin, but he still shivered.

“Johan?” I whispered.

“Why do the people I love die? I have their blood on my hands, what did I do...to make them leave me?“

A jealous pang hit my chest at his confession of loving my sister and I wanted to mentally slap myself for feeling that way. I've known for some time about his affection for her, and I am pregnant with another man’s kid, so I have no right to be jealous.

“Eve isn’t dead, Johan, she’s very much alive because
you
saved her.”

He lifted his head and cocked it to one side with a totally bemused expression on his face.

“Eve?” He questioned, as if he had no clue what I was talking about.

I nodded to his hands. “The blood, the people you love—”

“My mom’s blood. I killed her, it was my fault.”

“What?” I gasped, pulling away slightly.

“It was my fault, he hated me. If I hadn’t been born he wouldn’t have gone after my mom.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

He lifted his head and fixed me with those pale blue eyes; they were even more intense against the translucent water clinging to his black eyelashes. He gazed at me, blinked a few times, and all of a sudden it was like Johan reappeared and the stranger he had become vanished.

“God you’re beautiful.” He lifted his hand and stroked his finger across my bottom lip. His eyes flicked to my eyes, my hair, my lips, cataloguing my features; it felt surprisingly intimate.

“Johan?” I swallowed, terrified by this intimacy, yet wanting to lunge for him and devour his gorgeous mouth.

“Why is it easy to hate me and hurt me?” he asked, looking so vulnerable it made me want to hold and protect him.

“It’s not, trust me. You are the most infuriating man I know, but there is something endearing about you that has welded you to this family.”

“I love Eve.” He let out a soft sigh and again my heart did that tight squeeze that was beginning to piss me off. “I can’t bear the thought of her—”

“She’s fine. She
will
be fine,” I stated adamantly, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. And I couldn’t hear him proclaim his love for her.

He curled into me again and held me tightly, his head resting over my heart. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t survive that, I can’t allow it.”

I laughed softly. “Johan, nothing is going to happen to me.”

He lifted his head and looked at me. “After today I won’t ever see you again, will I?” The absolute finality in his voice frightened me.

“What? Of course you will, we live together.”

He shook his head and lifted his hand to cup my cheek. “No, I will lose you like I’ve lost everyone else I care about. You will leave too.” His voice sounded so bleak and empty I wanted to cry.

I lifted my hands and held his face, forcing him to look at me. “I am not
leaving
you.”

He closed his eyes tightly before opening them. A lump clogged my throat when a single tear tumbled down his cheek, gathering in the well between my thumb and finger.

I don’t know what possessed me but I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, catching the tear on my lips. Then I pressed my lips to his closed eyes. “I’m not leaving you, I swear it,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his forehead. He relaxed and pressed his head to my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me and holding tightly. Something inside me screamed a warning that this man had been broken for a long time ago. Broken seemed too light a word. More like he’d been obliterated and patched together again, but the incident with Eve had blown apart his patchwork. I clutched at him, trying to convey how much I wanted to console him. I would if he allowed it.

Chased by a Monster

Chase Dermont junior III

5 years old

Boston Massachusetts

“Little buddy, we gotta hide,” Ryan whispered as he pulled me out of bed.

Momma had stopped coming to me in my dreams now, and I hated going to sleep because she wasn’t there.  My heart hurt because she didn't want to see me anymore, and I made her sad.

Ryan lifted me from the top bunk and held me to his chest whilst I wrapped my legs around his waist. “We have to be quiet you hear?” he whispered.

I nodded.

“We’re running away, I’m taking you away from the sick son of a bitch.” He turned and walked out of my bedroom. We were so quiet my ears buzzed from the silence. My heart beat in my body so hard I thought it would wake Grandpa Chase and Grandma Violet. Ryan raced across the yard to his truck. He put me in the driver’s side and told me to move across the bench seat.

He started to jump in when a deep voice stopped him.

“Boy, you better have a good explanation for being out this late with my boy Chase,” Grandpa Chase said.

“Fuck,” Ryan whispered.

“Indeed. Think maybe we need a chat.” Grandpa placed his gigantic hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan looked at me with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he whispered before Grandpa put his arm around his neck and yanked him away. I grabbed onto Ryan’s sleeve and was pulled along the seat like a dog pulling at a rag chew.

“I’ll teach you to fucking listen,” Grandpa said angrily. His giant arm wrapped around Ryan’s neck pulling him along. Ryan’s scratched and kicked at the dirt. The panicked look on his face scared me. He fought to get Grandpa’s arm from around his neck but he couldn’t stop it.

“Chase, come on,” Grandpa growled like a scary dog.

I didn’t move.

“Now!” he shouted as he dragged Ryan towards the woods. I shuffled along the dirt on my knees. My hands were scraped from falling out of the truck and my knees were sore. Grandpa called again and I jumped to my feet and ran as quick as my legs would go to catch up. The stones and sticks hurt my bare feet but I did what Grandpa said, I followed.

When we got to the dark scary trees the shadows danced about us, big arms reached out to scratch at me, and whistling monsters stirred near my ears. Grandpa threw Ryan onto the ground and started shouting at him, really scary words. I covered my ears and hid behind a big ol’ tree.

“You think you can run from me? You think you can take what is mine?”

“You disgust me,” Ryan spat. He was so brave to talk back at Grandpa, I never dared. I once saw Kyle argue with him and Grandpa hit him in the face with his massive fist.

Grandpa laughed, but he didn’t look happy. He turned away from Ryan but doubled back quickly and kicked him right in the side; Ryan cried out. But Grandpa didn’t stop, he kept kicking and kicking. His big-booted foot made a sickening sound against Ryan’s skin. I screamed and begged for him to stop. But he didn’t. I covered my ears and closed my eyes. I could still hear Ryan and Grandpa.

A hand settled on my shoulder making me jump. I looked up at Grandpa. His hands were dirty and he was panting like he’d been running.

“Come on son, you need to do something to make up for this. I’m not happy and if I’m not happy your momma won’t come, and I will have to keep hurting Ryan. Do you want that?”

I sniffed and wiped my nose on the sleeve of my jammies.

He held out his hand and I placed my tiny hand in his.

When I walked out from behind the tree I saw Ryan lying on the dirt not moving. My momma looked like that just before she left me. I cried out and pulled away from Grandpa. I ran to Ryan and fell beside him.

“Ryan, wake up, Ryan,” I cried. I placed my hand on his prickly cheek, it was warm against my cold palm. He didn't move.

“The boy is fine, he’s learnt his lesson.”

“But—”

“Come...now!” Grandpa ordered.

I didn’t want to leave Ryan, but Grandpa’s voice scared me. Maybe once momma came I could tell her Ryan was hurt and she would come and get him. I leaned forward and put my mouth close to Ryan’s ear. “I’m going to get momma to come make you better. She always made my boo-boos go away.”

A large hand landed on my back and yanked at the neck of my jammies, pulling me to my feet.

Grandpa Chase walked us into the darkness. I kept looking behind me to see if Ryan moved but he didn’t.

Grandpa took me to an old boathouse; it wasn’t the one we used normally because that was over near the big boat deck. This one looked broken, the deck was all wobbly and most of the boards were missing. It looked dangerous. The door creaked open and when he switched the light on, I snapped my eyes closed because the sudden light stung my vision.

When I opened them I saw a small cot in the corner, like the one I slept on in the basement. But this didn’t have any sheets, it was bare and a little dirty. There were lots of chairs around the room and another mattress on the floor in the corner. There was a camera on legs facing the bed. It smelt funny in here, not like the other one. This was musty, like something I hadn’t smelt before but I didn’t like it. There were lots of shiny packets on the table, I think they could be candy but I hadn’t seen that sort of candy before. I didn’t like it here and Grandpa was looking at me funny.

“I want to go home,” I whimpered.

“You will but you need to make Grandpa feel good first and your momma will come.”

I shook my head. I wanted Ryan, I didn’t want to be here.

“I want to go home,” I cried.

“First I’m going to teach you how to be a man.”