Lara

When I open my eyes again, everything is pain.

I’m alone in my small bed. I try to move, but my body shakes as if my muscles are too weak to support me.

So I don’t move.

I lie motionless, facing the wall.

My throat hurts from screaming and my stomach cramps. Light from the window above says it’s afternoon.

The passage is unusually quiet, but I don’t care.

Nothing matters now.

I don’t remember much of last night, but two things flicker like slivers of a dream. Mark on the floor, blood covering his face, his lifeless body dragged from the room. A shudder of grief cramps in my chest. I open my mouth to say No, but nothing comes out as tears flood my eyes.

The second memory is a cruel green gaze that shoots terror through my veins. My entire body seizes, and I slam the door shut on that memory.

I never want to go back there.

Not ever.

Someone enters the room. It’s a woman from the scent of her perfume, but I don’t move as she walks to the bed and leans over me.

I hear her breathe and recognize her sigh.

Evie.

“Will you eat?” she whispers. She waits, but I don’t move. “I told Roland you wouldn’t sing tonight.”

I’ll never sing again.

“He begged to see you, but I told him to wait.” The side of the bed dips as she sits beside me. Her hand goes to my arm and begins to rub. “He was a wreck when we finally got to you. Guy was gone or I swear Roland would’ve killed him with his bare hands.”

She waits, but I don’t speak.

“I’ve never seen Roland cry.” Her voice is quiet.

“Molly,” I manage to whisper. A sharp inhale twists the fear in my stomach. “Where’s Molly?”

Evie’s voice wavers when she answers. “She’s going to be okay… She’ll heal.”

I turn my head into the pillow as the tears flow and my nose grows warm.

I failed.

Evie pats me and stands. “Just rest. Tomorrow you’ll feel better.”

I will never feel better.

Sleep must’ve come because when I open my eyes again, it’s dark. No moon lights the night, and the only slice of bright in the darkness comes from the crack beneath the door. I have no idea where Molly is, but it’s too hard to care about anything anymore.

My only feeling is pain.

And emptiness.

I haven’t moved from my position facing the wall when I hear the door open slowly. Footsteps cross the space, and I feel the bed depress. A warm body snuggles in next to me.

Soft sobs shiver through her, and I allow myself to wonder how she feels. I don’t move, waiting for her to sleep. A long time ago, I might have told her a story.

It all seems childish and foolish now.

Her small hand touches me in the darkness, and I stare at the wall.

Somewhere, something mattered. I just can’t remember what it was.

* * *

The smell of coffee wakes me. I’m alone in the bed, and I slowly turn to face the door for the first time. Roland sits in the chair across from me, and when our eyes meet, he drops to his knees at my bedside.

“Will you eat?” he asks softly.

I struggle to sit up enough to take the mug from him. I cup it in both hands and sip, allowing the soothing warmth to travel through my body as my eyes close.

He watches me silently for a few moments before running his index finger down my arm. “I’m sorry I was too late,” he whispers, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry, Lara.”

His head drops onto the bed, and tears sting my eyes.

I don’t want to cry.

I don’t want him to think I blame him. He looks up, his eyes wet, and a knot forms in my throat. I blink and two salty drops fall.

He rises to slide his arms around me and presses his lips to my head. “I’m so sorry you were hurt. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you.”

My body shudders fighting tears, fighting ribbons of memory.

Heroes don’t last long around here…

The voice echoes in my ears, and I know he would have failed if he’d tried.

Just like Mark.

My insides crumble, and I start to lose control. With all the failing strength left inside me, I push that door closed again. I can’t face that memory. Not yet.

I won’t come back from that pain.

We’re quiet as he holds me. He’s faint cigarette smoke mixed with warm coffee. After a few moments, he stands and takes a tissue from my dressing table. He touches his eyes and crumples it in his fist then he turns away from me.

“I was much younger than you when it happened to me.”

My eyes fly to him, but he doesn’t look at me. He looks past the mirror to some distant memory.

“I didn’t dream of killing him. I dreamed of permanently disfiguring him.”

I don’t know how to answer.

“I thought that punishment would fit the crime,” he continues. “But it was never possible, and eventually he moved on to another one.”

He returns and touches my face. “I never thought it would happen to you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it from happening again.”

My coffee is on the verge of coming back up.

It could happen again?

Fear grips my throat. For all I know, he could still be here, waiting. It doesn’t matter what he’s taken. He can come back for more…

I know he will.

“This came for you.” Roland holds out a letter, and I recognize Freddie’s handwriting.

I’d all but forgotten my old plan, my old safety net, and I watch as Roland places it on the bed beside me.

“It feels impossible, but you’ll get through this,” he says. “Now I’ll get breakfast. Be right back.”

The door shuts, and I place my cup on the small table, grimacing as I move. My entire body feels covered in bruises. The place between my thighs feels torn and damaged. Even my ass…

A shudder moves through me.

Push the darkness away.

I reposition myself and lift the letter to tear it open.

My Dearest Angel,

I know how you eschew modern technology, so I decided to write you a letter. I hope it pleases you, although my handwriting leaves much to be desired and I have no idea if this will make it to you before I do.

Please forgive my poor communications. I’m afraid this business has kept me far busier than I anticipated.

Let me reassure you, you are constantly in my thoughts, and I count the hours until I see you again, which will actually be sooner than you think.

Sadly, as a result of my business concerns, my return from Paris can’t be permanent. In fact, I will have to fly back within a day of my arrival in New Orleans.

However, Annemarie says her preparations are complete, and we are both eager for you to join us here, especially in view of what I read on the web of your debut.

I can’t begin to tell you how crushed I am to have missed it, but I hope I’ll be able to see it at least once before you and your sister join us here in Paris.

Please consider what I’ve written as I must have your answer when I see you again. I should be back at the theater the second week of November, and I hope you’ll say the prospect of joining me in my beautiful city fills you with as much joy as it does me.

Your devoted friend,

Freddie

I stare at the letter a long time before lowering it to the bed.

It’s still here.

Our way out.

Yet all I feel is hopelessness and misery.

I look up as Roland returns to the room and watch him place the stale bread and a few pieces of fruit on my table—and a surprise.

“You managed a piece of ham.” My voice is hoarse, and it sounds different to me.

He glances up and smiles, then carries it to the bed. “Had to move fast. I hope it warms your insides.”

He slices it and hands me a piece. The savory meat gives my mind something to settle on apart from my wretched state of affairs.

“Back soon?” He nods to the letter, and I pass it to him with my free hand.

His eyes quickly scan the thick ivory paper, and as he reads, his expression changes. He stands and goes to my dressing table, sets down the dish he’s holding and turns to me.

“You’ve got to get up. If his date’s an estimate, he could be here as soon as tonight.”

I blink. “I don’t understand.”

“Get up,” he orders, jerking back my blankets and pulling my legs around. “You have to clean up and start moving.”

My feet touch the cold floor and tears jump into my eyes. I try to lift them back into the bed, but he catches me and pulls me to my feet. I start to cry.

“Come on, Lara,” he urges, giving me a little shake. “This is the best news you could get. It’s a way out, and tomorrow’s the tenth!”

I close my eyes and drop my shaking head. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t feel anything. I only want to die.”

Roland catches my chin and lifts my face to look at his. His lips are drawn tight and his dark brow furrows. “You have to find it. Grab what’s inside you and force it to stand up.”

Tears flood my eyes as I look at him, but he doesn’t soften. He clenches his jaw and gives me a harder shake. “Do it!”

I suck in a halting breath and grasp his arms. His hands are still clenched on my shoulders, but I take a step back and turn toward my dressing table. The reflection in the glass gives me a start. My eyes are red and my skin is pale. Even my hair seems dull.

He steps behind me to look at my reflection over my shoulder. “Clean yourself up and be the star you are.”

“But…” My voice falters. I can’t say his name. “I lost him.”

My whisper breaks as my shoulders collapse and the tears run from my eyes. He pulls me against his chest, holding me tight as I break, as the waves of pain I can no longer hold back radiate through my chest.

Mark…

I lost him.

“I know,” he whispers, stroking the back of my hair. “You have to lock that away. You have to hold it down until you’ve escaped.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re an actress, Lara.”

“I was never an actress. All I can do is sing. I’m not even sure I can do that now.”

He wraps an arm across my shoulders. “You’re a terrific actress, and you can sing. You must. It’s a chance none of us ever had. He would want you to take it.”

I look into his eyes once more, and for a second he allows me to see the pain he keeps at bay. It’s not enough to give me hope. Still, something in my chest shifts. I don’t know what it is or why.

Perhaps I still want to live, to survive this. Perhaps I believe it’s what Mark would want me to do…

Only, how can I live without him?

Roland gives me another hug, and I close my eyes as a tear slides down my nose. Then I nod.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, and with a quick kiss to my ear, he releases me and goes to the door. “Come as soon as you’re ready, and we’ll practice the songs. Exercise your voice.”

The door closes and I turn to the mirror. I stare deeply into my own eyes, clear blue sky. They’re still beautiful, but they’re broken now. The eyes I want to see are gone, lost to memories, but Roland says I have to box that up. Put it away and run through the door that’s open.

* * *

My pace slows as I approach the stage. The scrubbing and brushing has done little to change the hollow in my chest, but a quick survey in the mirror shows my appearance has improved.

My soles crackle as I tread on the rosin left over from last night’s performance, and as always, I inhale the faint smell of cigar smoke mixed with earthy mildew as I approach the lighted stage.

I’m still in the wings when I see a familiar figure.

“You’re up,” Molly says, her arms around her waist.

She doesn’t come to me or reach out for a hug. She seems completely closed and distant. She’s changed. I’m not sure how much she knows about what happened to me, so I go to her and touch her hair, trying to calm my racing heart. The thought of walking into view onstage almost causes me to run back to my dressing room, but Roland is right. I have to get back out here for her as well as me.

“Do you feel like singing today?” She frowns as she studies my face.

I force a smile. “Doesn’t matter. The show must go on, right?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Working helps me feel better,” I lie. “And Freddie’s coming back.”

Her brow furrows. “We’re still doing that?”

“I promised you—”

“A lot of things.” Her voice is flat.

“I need to find Roland.”

I walk toward the lighted stage as the piano music starts a fast tune. I hear the tapping feet of dancers out front and wait a moment before stepping forward. Molly’s presence, watching me, is the only thing that keeps me moving.

Everyone stops when I step into the light. Bea crosses to embrace me, and I stiffen.

“How are you feeling?” The soft concern in her voice is fake, but I follow Roland’s instruction and force a smile.

“Better.”

She squeezes my hands and then walks back toward Vanessa, who watches me from afar. Bea says something quietly to her, but I don’t try to understand what it is. I focus my gaze on the piano and continue walking.

Roland looks up and smiles. “You look very good.” I reach across the top of the piano and grasp his hand for a moment. “Feel like singing?”

“Not really.” My insides are numb, and as I dressed, a major roadblock to our escape had entered my mind. “We don’t have passports.”

“Shit! Passports…” He stands in front of the piano, brow furrowed as he thinks. The cigarette goes between his lips, and he blinks away the tendril of smoke. “I have an idea… I’ll take care of it.”

I’m about to argue it’s impossible when Gavin’s voice stops me. “Better today?”

His tone is gentle but I’m unable to fight my response. Pure rage.

Roland reads my face and jumps in. “We’re just about to go over the songs for tonight. Do you need us?”

Gavin shakes his head. “Just wanted to check on Lara.”

I look away as he tries to catch my eye. I can’t forgive him for letting this happen. To anyone. I don’t know which is worse, the monster or the monster who hides him, who allows him to prey on the innocent.

“Well, on with the show,” he says and turns to leave.

Roland stands and comes around to me. “I know how you’re feeling. Like you want to scream at everyone. But you can get through it.”

I look up at him.

“Remember tonight and Freddie and leaving this place.”