Nora
Holden keeps his word. My chain is removed. I am free to move about the woods with Lotte. There is no point in escape. The woods are dense and vast. I have no idea how many miles it is back to the road to town. I am free to live, so long as I don’t run and don’t piss off Holden. The problem is, I don’t know what will anger him and what won’t. It changes daily. Some days he is the old Holden, tender and loving and sweet. Like two days ago. Holden threw me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom. His fingertips found mine in the dark and traced a path up to my lips. Some days he holds my hand innocently and I don’t flinch. Some days we all laugh.
And then some days something brews just under the surface of his skin. Something dark. Those days Lotte and I do what we can to avoid him and keep silent.
Days like today.
We are sitting at the table. He has placed a revolver on the table. I know this is a test, but it is so tempting.
“Your best chance is to grab the gun and shoot me.” I stare at the gun. It’s only a foot from my fingers. “Do it, Nora. Grab the damn gun,” he says calmly. This is a test. Lotte cries from behind her bedroom door. In a momentary lapse, I lunge. I snatch the gun from the table. Before I can pull the trigger Holden tackles me to the ground laughing. Laughing. He takes the gun from my fingers and presses the barrel to my forehead.
“You are mine.” I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Let him kill me. Let him. It would be better than reality. He grabs me by the armpits and hauls me to my feet. I stumble, trying not to put weight on my bad ankle.
“Who’s going to treat you the way I do? Who, Nora?” he shoves me. “Tell me! Who will adore you the way I do?”
I stare at him and brace for the violence I know will come. “Me.”
Holden stops and appraises me with rage in his eyes. “You,” he spits, “will never love you again. You’re playing my game now.” Something coarser, wilder than I’ve witnessed washes over his features. When he comes at me again, I duck, causing him to sail through the air over me. The gun accidentally fires as it clatters to the ground. Lotte screams. I scurry to her door. He’s on me before I can get to her. Holden drags me back to his room. He handcuffed my wrists to the bed posts, followed by my ankles. With a lascivious look, he pulls his knife from his pocket. I bite the inside of my cheek until blood fills my mouth.
“Let me remind you, who is in charge here.”
He kisses the top of my head.
“I will strip away all that you are until I am the only part of you left.” I shake my head. This place is a prison and Holden isn’t my friend. I repeat that to myself over and over. “You will search for me in every other man you meet when I am through with you,” he says, with a dark scowl.
I shake my head again. A sucker punch leaves me breathless. I can feel hope ebbing. But something taps me on the shoulder. Tells me to look up. To see something new by changing where I stand. Fresh rain beats on the roof. The sound makes me smile. The rain is free. Wild. Untameable. Click. Click. Click.
“Are you smiling?” Holden grabs my shoulders and pulls me upright. My shoulders burn at the angle. I shake my head but cannot wipe the smile from my face.
“What is so funny?” he asks, while shaking me like a rag doll.
“It’s raining,” I say. He stares at me incredulously. “Remember the storm we watched?” My smile grows. “The rain is wild. Free. The rain is not silent. The rain is everything I am not.”
Holden’s face falls. “Nora?”
I laugh. It sounds like hysteria. “Nora, snap out of it,” Holden barks.
Lotte’s head peeks around the bedroom door, concern mars her lovely face. I breathe in and out, in and out. I laugh and laugh. I am high above this place. I feel alive. Holden unties my wrists. I laugh some more. Holden backhands me. I clutch my cheek but laugh harder. Lotte darts into the room. This is not allowed. Holden will be murderous. She runs right to Holden and tugs on his arm. He whirls around, shooting her a glare meant to kill.
“Stop, please. Look at her,” she urges.
Holden turns back to me and inspects me. He stares so hard, I can feel his eyes inside of me. He sees my madness. Slowly, he approaches me. He holds my face in his hands and regards me, as if it is the first time he has ever seen me. Cupping my face, he inches his closer. I hold my breath. He inches closer still. His lips touch mine. The contact jars me. Roots me to Earth, to this cabin, to him. His kiss is gentle, warm and slow. My mind focuses, thoughts sharpen. My madness drifts, ebbs, dissipates, until I am melting into Holden’s arms. It is a gentle ascension to sanity and I am grateful for it. His arms secure me to him, as my upper body wilts. His lips never leave mine. There are soft footsteps behind him. Lotte, retreating to her bedroom, I think. I begin to weep. What have I become? How can this man bring me comfort? He unties my ankles.
His arms scoop me up and I feel weightless. He moves us.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to fix you,” he says. He snags a blanket from the chair and walks us outside. I cling to his neck and take in the scent of him mixed with the gentle breeze.
The rain has eased. It is dark outside but the moon shines and the clouds have parted.
“Where is my mind?” I whisper. And nuzzle his neck.
He does not answer but sets me on my feet. I watch curiously as he snaps the blanket and it floats to the ground. He takes my hand and moves us to the ground. He lies on his back and pulls me down, too. I rest my head in the crook of his arm. He points to the sky. I follow his finger and gasp. The velvet shroud hovering above us is sprinkled with glitter. So much glitter.
“I love sparkles.”
“They’re stars, Nora,” he says gently.
I blink once. Twice. Three times. And then they are.
They are stars and I am on the ground, on a blanket tucked into Holden’s side, gazing at the most spectacular night sky I’ve ever witnessed. I feel the heat creeping up my throat and flooding my cheeks. Holden must sense my embarrassment because he holds me tighter.
“There is madness in everyone. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says.
“What is happening to me?” I ask.
“You’re finding your place. That’s all. Now look. Look at all those stars. At the constellations. At their beauty. Do you see it, Nora?” I do. I see it. I nod my head. “That is what I need to create.”
“Okay,” I say.
“When you’re ready, we’ll begin.”
“I’m ready,” I say. Because—haven’t we already begun?
“No, you’re not yet. You are still too fragile.” I nestle into his warmth and gaze at the stars above. The rain is gone but my madness remains. I close my eyes. When I wake, I’m going to be the perfect woman for him. I will try harder. I have to.
“I love you,” I whisper into the air between us.
“You shouldn’t love me, Nora.” I hang on every careless word he spews, and I know it isn’t right but it is the only way to survive. The madness is in my blood. I can feel it. I am different.
“Why? Isn’t that what you want? To be loved? Isn’t that why you took me? Keep me? Loving you isn’t a choice. It is fact. It happened before. I can’t shut it off.”
He furrows his brow and looks away from me. “No. My desires don’t fit into civilized society.”
He dislodges from me. He stands and goes into the cabin. I follow, leaving the blanket behind. I storm through the door and slap my hands on the table to make a point.
“But . . .”
“No. Stop. You won’t figure me out. I’m not broken, Nora.”
I stand and smooth my skirt, irritated. “I don’t believe you.” I lift my chin. “You keep me for a reason. Because you want me. Because I’m special.”
His gaze turns vicious. He hauls me into our room. Pressed down into the mattress, panic explodes in me. I begin to fight in earnest, thrashing desperately. But even fueled by the most primal desire to survive, my strength is nothing compared to that of Holden’s. “You talk too much,” he barks. I scowl at him. He kisses me, hard and hungry. His fingers dig into the flesh of my shoulders, the edges of his nails biting half-moon circles into my skin. An involuntary sigh escapes me. If I can make him happy, I can live. I can keep Lotte safe. My madness cements. I am his now.
The effort I had made with my appearance today must please him. He beams me a smile. He runs a finger from my shoulder down to my waist. The shimmer of pleasure that runs from his touch all the way down my spine, unites in my core. My nipples harden. To my shame, I have to bite back a soft moan. Holden treats me like a dog. And like a dog, I come back again and again, waiting for that scrap of affirmation that rarely comes. Yet, still I try. Lately, I use my ears instead of my eyes. The dense trees can be hard to see through. But sound usually travels farther than I can see. There are many familiar noises: woodpeckers, crickets, the crunch of leaves under the feet of deer. But sometimes, there are unsettling sounds. Strange noises. One is a squeaky kind of creaking noise and it freaks me out whenever I hear it. “What is that?” I ask.
“I suspect it’s some kind of bird,” Holden says. “Once, while hunting along the river, I heard this whooshing sound. It kept happening once every fifteen or twenty minutes. It almost sounded like the roar of the ocean. I came to a clearing, and I saw what it was—a flock of small birds, flying in unison. They flew like miniature stunt planes. The whooshing sound happened when they all made a sharp turn at the same time. I wouldn’t have guessed that in a hundred years.”
“What’s that sound?” Lotte asks, joining us on the porch. It is past her bedtime and Holden shoots her a murderous look for being out of bed. Lotte clings to my skirt, trying to disappear into the fabric when it shrieks again.
He grabs her by the arm and drags her back to her room. She mewls a bit but I do not move from my spot. I am obedient. When he returns, he points inside. I do as I’m told. In our room, he peels my clothes from me and motions for me to get in bed. His mood is like the tides. He climbs under the covers and reaches for me. He can be so gentle when he chooses to be. His stubble scrapes my skin and his breath is cold, but it is familiar, which makes it comforting, when everything else in my life is not. I hope Lotte is okay.
In the morning, I check Lotte over once we are lost in the forest. She has one small bruise on her arm from where he yanked, but is unscathed beyond that. We lie in the field near the river bank together. I tell her stories that I make up, while I make wildflower crowns for her to wear. At night, after supper, I brush her long silky locks and braid them. Holden watches. He loves to play with my hair and tells me often how much he likes it long.
“What do you think Lotte? Should she do mine, too?” he asks.
Lotte giggles and nods. I pat her back to signal I am done. She moves next to me. I pat the bed between my legs at Holden. He grins and sits on the floor in front of me. I make long slow strokes through his shoulder length, wavy hair. I take my time getting the snarls out. When I am done, I let Lotte braid it for him. She secures it with an elastic and pats the top of his head. “All done.”
“A guy could get used to this,” he says. My insides warm.
The next day, after washing his hair for him, he hands me a pair of scissors. It is a sign of trust and I am over the moon about it. As I trim his beard for him, he tells me “Only ever you, Nora,” and I make sure I do an extra precise job for him.