I pace my living room nervously. I’m about to come face to face again with my captor and someone I have mixed emotions over. Unease settles itself in the pit of my stomach.
“This isn’t normal,” I say to myself. I pick up my glass of juice and take a sip, attempting to settle the butterflies in my stomach. A loud knock on the door startles me; I jump and choke on my drink, almost dropping the glass. “Damn. I’m so not ready for this. What was I thinking?” I hiss under my breath. “Coming.” My voice gives away how edgy I am.
I unlock each lock as quickly as I can, then pull the door open. There before me is the one man who causes a stir within me when I should be hating him. Why can’t I hate him?
“Hello.”
It’s funny how a single word can turn to you mush. I actually want to lunge at him. To have his arms securely around me. But I refrain. I can’t do that. I need to keep my walls up, and he has to prove to me that I can trust him.
“Hey, come on in.”
His arm brushes mine as he steps past me. Tingles spread throughout my body. My breath catches and he stops, turning to face me. Raising his hand, he reaches for my face. Just as his fingers are about to connect with my skin, I recoil. My hand immediately comes up, brushing hair out of my face. I look away.
“Ah… do you want a drink or something?” I shut the door. I turn to face him, but he hasn’t moved from the doorway where I’ve stepped back from him. I see the hurt etched in his features. Those eyes, usually dark, are now a clear hazel.
I’ve hurt him. Well… good. He deserves some hurt after what I went through. Still, the demons I’m battling with make me want to touch his face and comfort him. I’m so hesitant to allow myself to touch him yet, though. I’m sure I’d break down. I walk past him and head to the kitchen.
“Sure, a drink would be great, thanks.”
The air in the room is still. I busy myself getting us a drink of soda.
“How have you been?” he asks.
“Much better now I’m out of the hospital and things are healing well. How about you?” I move to the living area to find him sitting on the couch. I hand him his drink. Our fingers connect and again, my body fails me. If only he knew what a stir he causes through me.
“Surviving.” His short answer makes me question what’s been going on with him these last two days.
“I guess someone like you would be lucky to survive another day without being caught.” Ouch! I can’t believe those words left my mouth. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m so—” I don’t get to finish my sentence.
“Don’t apologize,” he says, lifting his hand to stop me. I slowly lower myself on the couch up the other end, so there’s a seat between us. Thank goodness it’s a three-seater.
Roman places his drink on the coffee table. “It should be me apologizing to you. I am truly sorry. For everything.” He appears sincere.
I may as well get right to the point. I only have two questions at this point in time. “What saved my life? Why didn’t you kill me like you did the others?”
A silence falls between us. My fingers run rings around the top of my glass I’m holding as I wait for his reply. Roman appears to be fighting something within him. His eyes change and his fists clench. I’m not scared of him. I believe and hope that he won’t attack me, so I wait for his response.
Roman’s head comes up and his stare is hard, those eyes dark once again. He’s my captor in this moment. “When I first took you, you appealed to me. Everything about you fit what I searched for in the girls. I enjoyed hearing them cry out in pain. When I was younger, I fought my father about this ‘family business,’ as he called it. Eventually I gave into it all, and I… killed my first girl with his help.” He pauses, taking a few breaths and a sip of his drink.
I’m perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for what else he’s going to say.
“A day came when I could no longer stand my father, so I killed him. Then you came along. As a police officer, it’s a part of my job to dig into our victims’ lives. Yours was a mystery, and as I un-raveled it, it became clear to me that you and I were very similar—although you didn’t keep killing people. As I read your journals and dug into your life, I wanted to know everything about you. So as you can imagine I was torn between doing what I was trained to do, and becoming someone new, someone who wasn’t a killer.
“I reached a point with you where I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. That night I took you into the field, you were meant to die. Your letter changed everything about me as a person and a killer. I thought if this girl could stand up for herself and not waiver in the face of death, perhaps I could change and become someone else. At least, that’s what I hope.” His gaze lifts from his glass to meet mine.
My head is spinning. “So you decided not to kill me that night in the field?” Anger bursts through me. “Then why the hell didn’t you let me go?” I yell, standing up. I point at him. “You kept me, and because of you I now look like this.” I lift my shirt, allowing him to see the fresh pink scars running tracks over my stomach and add in a few places still bandaged.
Roman’s mouth pinches together. He stands, reaching his hand out, but I step back. “Don’t touch me. This is all your fault,” I hiss at him. Tears prick my eyes, and then slide down my cheeks. “This happened because you didn’t let me go when you had the chance. That’s what the intruder meant when he said he needed to teach you a lesson, because you were too weak to finish the job and actually kill me.”
Roman comes closer. He hesitantly touches one of my scars. I close my eyes and feel his finger trace over the marks. After a moment, he tugs my shirt down and gazes at me. “The intruder said that this was to teach me a lesson?”
I sniffle. “What did he mean?”
“I’m… not entirely sure. This is clearly a personal attack at me. Do you remember anything else about that night?”
I think for a moment, and I can’t remember too much. “I honestly can’t recall every detail of that night. It comes back to me in flashes.” My dreams are the worst. The intruder’s laughter makes my skin crawl and his evil eyes remind me of Roman’s when he was in the killer’s zone.
“You obviously read my note. Would you be interested in coming back to the house with me?”
I pick up on the hesitation in his voice. Going back to that place is like stepping back into a nightmare. Before I get a chance to respond, Roman says, “I know this isn’t an easy thing to ask of you, but I feel if you walk me through that night, you might remember what happened and if anything was said that could help us find the person responsible.”
“The person responsible is standing right here.” I gesture to all of him. I don’t care how much guilt he holds, I’m the one who’s stuck with memories of the pain he and the intruder inflicted on me. “This is all your fault, whether you were taught to be a monster or not. If you had just let me go, I wouldn’t have come looking for you. I only wanted to be free and have my life back. But then you kissed me in the field, so rough and hard that I didn’t even recognize that I’d already kissed those lips. And now you make me hate you, yet I still hold love for you. You won’t be forgiven so easily. You have some work to do before I allow you near me in that way again.” My hands fly to my mouth as I realize what I just said. I basically just told him I love him. What was I thinking? My brain wasn’t filtering my words.
Roman says nothing, just stands there and appears to be analyzing me. I can’t help but wonder what’s going through his head. Does he want to hurt me for what I’ve said? He doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve and show what he’s feeling. After years of doing what he does, he has learned to mask his emotions.
“Say something,” I say. My breaths are heavy and the only sound in the room.
“What more do you want me to say? I’m asking for your help. I know you’re mad at me—hell, I’m mad at me. Seeing your marks has made me furious. I want to slice up the bastard who did this to you. I mean, yes, I cut you and shot you, but never to that extent of near death. And when I find the person responsible he’ll be the last person to die at my hands. Then I hope to be able to be close to you again.” He shifts to me, and I move back. He keeps advancing. Should I scream? I come to a halt when I run into the kitchen bench. I should call out, but my voice is caught in my throat.
Roman’s hands take a gentle hold of my face. I melt into him. His body presses up against me and before I realize what’s going on, his lips delicately brush against mine. Desire pulses through me with each beat of my erratic heart. Oh, what he does to me. My body yearns for his touch. Hungrily, I press my lips against his. Our kiss deepens. His tongue glides in my mouth. Goosebumps prickle over my skin and I desperately want more. I want his fingers to claim each and every part of me.
All of a sudden, a flashback of him holding me against the wall in my cell makes me feel so dirty. Calling me filthy and dropping me to the floor like a used scrap. My hands find his chest and I shove him backwards.
“You need to leave,” I say.
He tries to reach for me again.
“No. I told you to leave. So leave!”
Without another word, he leaves. I go to the door after he’s gone and lock all the locks once again. I collapse to the floor in a heap. Tears flow and just like that, everything around me becomes shaky as what was once secure, crashes to the ground.