Thrive (21 page)

It was like the stars had aligned and I knew what I had to do.

It all made sense now; why I’d been trained by Charlie to feel nothing – to switch off when I needed to. I needed to switch off now, as I glanced at Skye and saw the terror in her eyes.

She thought Phil was going to kill us. She thought her life was in danger and the flicker of agony as she closed her eyes and waited for an explosion told me she wanted to live. She deserved to live a life that wasn’t in fear of when it would come to an end at the hands of another.

I knew what I had to do…

~Curtis~

The hybrid car made no sound as it sped along the road with Curtis applying more and more pressure on the accelerator.

“We have to focus,” I said, grabbing his hand and turning it over to kiss his palm.

He looked at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. The undiscussed plan of action swirled around us; the echoing whispers of what we had decided without conversation or debate seeped from every crevice in the car, as if to prepare us for what we were about to do; to give us a pep-talk before the bell rang out.

“It all makes sense,” Curtis said, weaving in and out of cars.

“It does? Because from here it’s a mind fuck of assumptions. We don’t know anything and yet we’re on our way to find him.” When Curtis didn’t reply, I took a different approach, afraid of what was going to happen to us. “He’s at least one step ahead of us. He’s waiting for us. He’s calling the shots here.”

“I don’t care,” he rasped, void of the fear that was quickly overpowering me. “This ends today.”

A dark cloud began to roll in the distance, as if calling us home; like a beacon, it invited us closer and told us to beware.

The first patter of rain hit the windscreen before the wind whipped it away. One drop turned into a shower and the shower quickly evolved into a downpour. The windscreen wipers swiped furiously, but all that could be seen in front of us was a sheet of plummeting rain set to the backdrop of the quashed sun and the storm cloud that expanded with every second. A quick clap of thunder made me jump and grip Curtis’ hand harder.

“We need to discuss a plan. We need an alibi or something,” I said, fumbling for my phone to call someone. Anyone. Curtis shook his head as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky outside his window. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. No plan, no false alibi.”

“But-”

“No buts.”

I took a deep breath; I had to trust him. Whatever he was thinking, I had to trust he was doing the right thing; we had to be united. We had to stand together and demand the answers we deserved. I was petrified. I didn’t trust Curtis – I didn’t trust
myself
– not to hurt Phillip if given the opportunity. My eyes flickered to the blade on the back seat as it caught another bolt of lightning. Another rumble of thunder followed almost immediately. We were closing in on the storm, closer to Phillip; closer to whatever fate awaited us.

“We have to protect each other, Curtis.”

“Always,” he answered, squeezing my hand and drawing my attention to how hard I was gripping his.

The car began to close in on me, shortening my breath until I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t see anything beyond tonight. I wanted to envision infinity or a happy ever after; a field of green and two beautiful dark-haired children with chocolate eyes running through it, but all I could see was the now. Tunnel vision of an ugly present that promised us no future. I’d felt like this once before, trapped and doomed – the night Thomas died. My life did end that night; the Skye I was when I was tied to Thomas was no more. What if I’d been spared death to complete this mission? What if this was it? What if I was about to fulfil my life’s goal and it would end once I’d served my purpose? I wanted my purpose to be to love and shelter; to protect, to encourage, to give. I didn’t want my reason for my time on Earth to be to hurt, to punish, to suffer loss and feel pain. What if it had all been for nothing? What if we were choosing our own fate by traveling this road and had signed our own death warrant?

“Skye?” Curtis’ stern voice caught my ears and dragged me back into reality. One hand was pulling at my seatbelt, the other tugging on the door handle. “Skye, stop.”

“I have to get out.” I clawed at the window and twisted my body in the seat. “I have to get out!”

“There’s no going back now. We have to end this.”

“No!” I pulled at my hair and lifted my feet to kick the dashboard. “No, no, no!”

The car swerved as Curtis pulled over in a layby and slammed on the brakes. He pulled his seatbelt off, leaned over to take hold of my face and turned my head to look at him.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How? How is any of this going to be okay?”

“Because I love you.”

He crashed his lips to mine so desperately it stopped my breath and my heart ground to a halt. His lips didn’t burn, they didn’t hurt; they calmed, they healed – they revived the madness that had fallen redundant. It had returned to tell me we did have to do this.

“We’re going to find him,” he said, edging back, running his thumb over my swollen lips. “We’re going to find him and make him pay. I need you to be strong. I will protect us, but I need you to, too.”

I nodded. I was back; I had returned from the dark place Curtis called home and pulled myself from the abyss that would have seen us plunge into failure.

***

The rain still poured when we drove along an access road that was almost hidden by overhanging trees and bushes, and pulled up outside a derelict house in the desolate marshlands of Kent. There were no lights, no signs of life; just a house with boarded up windows and a metal-plated front door. As the headlights slid over the front of the house, I saw graffiti of teenage gangs, discarded beer bottles and cigarette packets; a lonely red stiletto sat on the front step, captured by the winding vines that carpeted the entrance of the house and had begun creeping up the exterior walls.

Curtis reached into the back for the things Phillip had sent us. My heart leapt and fluttered; I knew it had synchronised with Curtis’. Our hearts beat to the same rhythm of the fear of the unknown; I could almost hear his hammering in time with mine, before I felt him slip away. “Come on.”

We got out of the car and I followed Curtis quietly.

I was afraid; I’d never seen him so totally detached. It had fallen over him suddenly, and left me feeling cold and empty.

He wasn’t gone, like when he shut me out to deal with whatever plagued him; he was just…gone. There was no energy, no aura that pulled me closer no matter how much he pushed me away. I needed something from him, to tell me he’d come back to me eventually, but I couldn’t feel it. There was no warmth or comfort as he wrapped the blanket around me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, leading me beyond the house into the adjoining woodland.

His arm shook and his breathing was shallow as the fog of his breath spread out in front of us and evaporated into the rain. The faint light from the car on the driveway gave way to darkness as we continued deeper into the forest. Curtis needed no direction; he needed no light to lead the way. He stepped over raised tree roots, his feet squashed the sodden leaves and dirt, and still he held me, stopping me from stumbling and keeping the blanket wrapped tight. The knife hung loosely from the hand he was holding over my chest – I knew he had the turtle in the other, extending to the forest floor that he seemed to know as if he’d walked it yesterday. I knew then that something was wrong, more wrong than I could begin to imagine, and it was completely out of my control. All I could do was play along, only this wasn’t a game I wanted to be a part of.

The trees of the forest began to thin out and I could see a clearing ahead; the lights of the town we’d driven through on the way here were twinkling beneath the crescent moon.

Curtis led us out into the empty space, the uncut grass hitting my knees as he continued on the mindless journey along his invisible path. We were heading towards an outbuilding in the centre of the field. I could smell the rust as we moved closer to it; the scent of rotting wood and varnish burned my nose, but Curtis seemed unaffected as the rain pounded into us, the trees no longer shielding us.

“Curtis?” I whispered, my voice barely carried by the wind that howled around us. “Curtis?”

There was no response, just the flexing of his fingers on the knife, and the backs of his fingertips against my arm. His bicep tensed against my neck and a shiver travelled along my spine.

I wanted to call to him again, but the fear lodged in my throat, halting my next breath as another flash of lightning struck in the distance, followed quickly by a clap of thunder beyond the hills. I jumped. Curtis took a deep breath as if drawing comfort from the aggression of the storm. He paused and raised his head, allowing the downpour to rain down on his face, before blowing a spray of water out, composing himself, and continuing the final few steps to the little shed.

Keeping one hand on me, he bent down to pull a key out of a crack in the wood panelling. He inserted it into the rusting lock on the door and slipped the padlock and key into his pocket. He pulled the door open and I closed my eyes as the smell of neglect overwhelmed me. I moved to cover my mouth with my hand, but Curtis shot out in front of me and pulled the blanket tighter.

I gasped, my breathing constricted by the sudden force of his hold; the stitching pulled tight around my neck, my arms, crossed over my chest, squeezed tighter and I frantically nodded my compliance. He let go, sucked in a breath, and sighed to release it.

I leaned towards him, seeking the connection that had been lost as quickly as a bolt of lightning lasted; I wanted to breathe in his scent to distract me from the smell of mould and mildew. I wanted to remember why we were here. I wanted to remind Curtis, but the Cut Throat I knew was gone.

“Go inside,” he instructed, his voice laced with a fear I’d never heard before. It chilled my bones.

“Why?”

“It’s safe.” He scanned the field behind me, and then stepped aside. “Go inside.”

One of his large hands met my shoulder and he shoved me over the threshold, sending me tumbling over old terracotta pots until I crashed to the floor. Dropping the blanket and using my hands to aid me, I scrambled across the soaked floor to the far end of the shed, beneath a shelf. I sat against the wall, the splintered wood catching my t-shirt and cutting into my back. All I could make out was Curtis’ shadow as he followed me in and bent to pick up the blanket.

As another flash of lightning struck, I saw the dirt on my bare legs, and the terror in Curtis’ eyes as he moved closer and held the blanket out to me. I leaned forward, accepting the tiny amount of care he offered and let him wrap me up once more. His fingers slid under my chin and tipped my head so my eyes found his gaze

“I used to come here when I was a boy,” he said, squeezing my knees as I brought them to my chest. “I didn’t remember this house existed until we pulled up. I don’t remember anything about being inside, but I remember coming here and sitting just like you are now.”

“What did you do when you came out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.” I felt the blood drain from my face and my bottom lip began to tremble. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

The Curtis I knew was trying to break through the Curtis he became when we arrived here.

“I do.” I nodded and reached for him, but he edged back. “I love you too. Please, Curtis.”

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, dropping his gaze and I watched in the shadows as the physical darkness joined the mental devilry.

“Anything.”

My hands moved to reach for him again, but he took hold of them, with the blanket, and settled them on my lap.

“Remember,” he whispered. “Remember every bit of pain you’ve ever felt. Remember the fear, the agony, the loneliness and the rejection. I need you to remember where you are and all the things that led you here.” A tear fell from his eyes, in time with the stream that trickled from mine. “I need you to be strong and I need you to have hope. Without strength and hope, you’ll have nothing. I need you to hold onto them for me.”

“I will.” I shifted frantically, but he held me still. “Curtis, what happened to
us
? What happened to
we
need to be strong?”

I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t move to touch him like I wanted to. He had me trapped in the blanket as the tears streamed from us both, a river of impending tragedy.

“Remember how much I love you. You’re everything, Skye. You’re everything on this earth and I love you for it. You’re in my veins. You’re the blood that keeps me alive. You’re the air that I breathe. You’re every thought I’ve ever had, every action I’ve ever taken. Everything I have in me that’s good, I have because you knocked on my aunt’s front door all those years ago. I was waiting for you and you found me, and I’ve never felt so alive. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Promise me,” he pleaded. “I trust you. You’ve made me believe again and I need you to promise me you’ll remember that…always.”