I wake up the same way I usually do, screaming and sweating, with Caleb's name on my lips. There are no strong arms to comfort me, no rough voice mumbling reassuring words in my ear. It's just me, in a strange room. Soft morning light drifts through the window. I glance around at my surroundings as I try to calm my breathing. I'm in Lizzy's spare room.
I've been here for two days, but it still feels completely strange to me. Lizzy and I haven't really spoken. I haven't left this room, haven't left this bed. She brings me food, which I eat despite my constant nausea whenever I see food. I eat it because Jude asked me to look after the baby, and I will.
Lizzy tries to make conversation with me when she visits, but I can't. I know she hasn't done anything wrong. It's me. I'm not in the right headspace for her to ask me questions. I don't have a clue what to tell her. There isn't one facet of the truth she’ll be able to handle because the second she hears it, she'll think the same as those cops, and the shrink. She'll think I'm delusional, abused... Every time I think of Jude, all I can hear is him shouting after the police as they dragged me away. She has Stockholm syndrome. Was he just saying that or did he mean it? Does he really think I have a mental problem, and if so, does he really love me, or was he acting out of guilt for everything that happened to me while I was with him?
My heart tells me that this is Jude. I know him. He's not a man to appease some girl. But my mind is clinging to the seeds of doubt. How can it not?
I shove the duvet off me and go into the bathroom, starting the shower. I slip off my tank top and underwear, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My body is marred with scars, all from injuries inflicted during my time with Jude. There was a time when I hated them, when I couldn't see them without loathing him and everything he represented, but now every one reminds me of a time when he would kiss them better, or look at them and tell me I was beautiful regardless.
My eyes trail over the long scar running between my breasts and over my stomach, widening as the skin stretches slightly over the bump. My body is thinner. The last few months and my experience with Joe having taken their toll, except for my rounded stomach which seems to be getting bigger by the day. I want to wallow in this pit of despair, but the more I think about the baby inside me, the more I feel this indescribable urge to fight. Jude may be locked up, but I'm still here, and I'm all she will have.
I get in the shower, washing away the depression of the last few days.
After I've dressed, I step into the kitchen and take a seat at the breakfast bar, watching my sister as she bustles around the cabinets, dancing to the radio. I smile because she seems so happy. She spins around and spots me. Lizzy's eyes go wide, and she quickly turns off the music.
"Oh, my God. Are you okay?" Her accent is softer than mine, with just a hint of the American twang creeping in.
I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Um... Can... Can I get you anything?" Lizzy always did like to fuss. She's the oldest, the mother if you like.
"Coffee would be great." She moves across the kitchen, but I move around her breakfast bar, cutting her off.
"I can get it," I tell her. Her treating me like an invalid is not helping.
She doesn't say anything. I glance at her and she's standing there, mouth open with her eyes fixed on my torso.
I follow her gaze, looking at my abdomen. "They didn't tell you?"
Since I've been here, I haven't left the bed in front of my sister, and at the police station I was wearing a hoody that was five sizes too big for me. Now though, I'm wearing a tank top she donated to me, and it's showcasing a very prominent bump.
She shakes her head. "No," she chokes on a whisper.
There's a minute of silence as I pour the coffee. "It's a girl," I tell her quietly. I guess I haven't had a chance to talk about her, to consider her a person yet. I've always been on the run, unable to think that far ahead.
"Is... do you know who the father is?" she asks carefully, as though it might upset me.
"Yeah, I do." She stares at me, waiting. "It's Jude."
"Oh, God." She presses her hand to her lips, a choked sob leaving her.
"And I will tell you what I told them," I snap. "I love him. He didn't rape me, or manipulate me." I don't know how to explain this to her. "We were two people thrown into a situation against our will, and... It wasn't planned." It's true. I never in a million years thought I would love Jude, but sometimes, life throws the unexpected at you.
Lizzy fiddles with her watch, something she does when she's nervous. "Ria...”
"I said, don't call me that," I say too quickly. Shit. I drag my hand through my hair.
"Victoria." She hesitates. "I know you say you were thrown into the situation, but he held you hostage. He should never have done that." She says it as though I can't see this. I can.
"You wouldn't understand."
Her eyes flick to my throat again, the ugly scar my most visible, but certainly not the most awful, because that one I did to myself.
"I think." She takes a deep breath. "I think maybe you should talk to someone." She flashes me a small smile.
I get up and turn away from her as I leave the room. "I'm not crazy, and I'm not talking to someone." I snap.
She will never understand this.
I'm sat in the window seat of Lizzy's snug with a book on my lap though I can't register what's written on the pages. It's been a month. A long month without Jude, or Marney, or anyone. I've heard nothing.
I've tried to call the prison where he's being held, but they won't allow me to speak to him or see him given the situation. Lizzy has tried to make me speak to various shrinks, and I tell them all the same thing, I'm not crazy, and I don't have Stockholm syndrome, but as time goes on, I'm starting to question even myself.
I mean, if someone has Stockholm syndrome, surely they are unaware of it? Maybe I just don't want to think of myself as one of those people, because I've always thought it’s a load of bullshit, fabricated by weak women who fall at the feet of abusive men. Isn't that exactly what I did though? The problem is; I can't stop loving Jude. It's like I need him, as though my body and soul are physically grieving his absence.
The doorbell sounds, reverberating through the house. I frown and put the book down on a side table.
I move to the front door, and open it to a very well dressed man. His suit looks expensive, and the brand new Mercedes on the drive verifies this.
"Miss Devaux?" He has this professional manner about him, but with a hard edge.
"Yes."
"I'm Robert McKinley, Jude Pearson's attorney."
I swallow hard. This is it.
He reaches into his suit pocket and hands me an envelope. "Jude asked that I give this to you and that you do exactly as it says." He takes a deep breath and frowns. "There's nothing you can do to save him. You need to focus on saving yourself." He turns and walks back down the drive, leaving me standing in the entrance with the envelope in my hand.
My fingers shake as I stare at the inconspicuous white envelope, my name scrawled across the front. I close my eyes and take a steadying breath before a rip the envelope open and read the words that shatter me.
Tor,
I love you. Know that above all else. You gave me something I never knew I wanted or needed until you were dumped in my office, scared, but fighting with every breath. I’ve had weeks to sit here and do nothing aside from think. All I think about is you. I miss you. Fuck do I miss you. I promised you I would protect you, and I always will, no matter where I am. Now though, you have to protect our daughter, because I can't. That means letting me go.
I'm going to jail, and nothing you say or do will help me. They will call you as a witness, and you need to testify against me. Tell them the truth. Do not lie for me.
You were kidnapped.
I held you hostage.
Everything you said, did, or witnessed was against your will.
I killed Joe, and you will testify to that.
Most importantly, you do not love me. I raped you, which is why you are pregnant.
Everything you did was to survive. Tor that is the end of it. This is the only thing I ask of you. I need you to be there for our daughter, because I can't, and she will need her mother. I would have given you both the fucking world, and I failed you... I'm sorry. You are my everything.
I love you,
Jude
My knees give out and I hunch over on my sister's marble floor, my very soul feeling like it's bleeding from me. My chest heaves on frantic sobs as tears pour down my face, staining the paper in my hand. How could he ask this of me? He wants me to paint him as a monster.
This feels like I'm cutting out my own heart, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to find the strength to live without him, much less be the very reason that he is taken from me in the first place.