Consequences of Deception (10 page)

My visit to the doctor was uneventful, all things considered. We talked over my options and in the end agreed that I’d do best with the birth control shot. The timing was right since my cycle had ended three days prior, which meant that the doctor was able to administer the shot right then and there. After emphasizing the fact that the shot would only work as long as I made sure to get it every ninety days, the doctor was finished with me. According to him, I was technically protected against pregnancy right away, but he advised waiting five or so days before having unprotected sex.

When Chord and I get back to the resort he suggests that I check out the TV channel that is devoted to information about what activities are available at the resort so that I can decide what I want to do. I realize that the resort is huge, but until I watch the whole presentation I had no idea that there is so much to do. There is a gym, a spa, several restaurants and pools galore. If I feel like being adventurous, I can paddle board, Jet Ski, or rent a golf cart that can drive on the sand.

Deciding that I am most interested in swimming in the clear ocean, I call the number that Chord has left me for his phone and tell him that I am going to head down to the beach. I’m surprised when he tells me that Killian’s instruction is that I can do whatever I want as long as someone is with me at all times, but then I realize that Killian is just being an overbearing asshole so that he can keep me in my place. I’ve always valued solitary time but apparently that isn’t on the agenda. Knowing that it isn’t a fight I can win, I let it go. If someone wants to trail along behind me while I lie in the sun or go to the spa, then so be it.

As the days pass, I discover that I like Chord, Adam and Trey. They’re friendly and I never feel ill at ease with them, which means that I’m able to be myself. I even find myself feeling grateful that they are around. If it weren’t for them, I’d be completely alone and staring at the walls.

The heat and humidity of the Florida climate is a killer and by the time I crawl into bed each night, I’m beyond tired. Tonight is no different; I’m exhausted, but it’s the fourth night in a row that I haven’t seen Killian anywhere in the condo after dinner is over and I’ve gone from annoyed to furious. He’s clearly playing cat and mouse with me and I’m over it. At this point, I just want him to get it over with so that I don’t have to obsessively wonder when, exactly, he’s going to turn up to take me.

Sleep isn’t coming no matter what I do, and at midnight I am still wide-awake, rolling back and forth in the bed as I try to get comfortable and turn my brain off. Nothing that I am doing is working and once I understand that I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, I sit up and turn the ceiling lights on low. Turning to my bedside table to get my iPad, my eyes fall on the drawer that holds the one photo that I can’t display with Killian around.

With shaky hands, I open the drawer and pull out the frame. I realize my mistake immediately; I’m in a bad place emotionally to begin with and the picture guarantees that I’ll only be more upset, but I can’t put it down. Running my fingers over the glass, I touch the faces of the two people that I loved so much: Killian and his sister, Shannon. The picture had been taken at the end of the summer before my senior year, during a visit to my family’s lake house, and the three of us were beaming. Killian was in the middle with one arm wrapped around Shannon and one wrapped around me, and the love and happiness that radiates from the three of us is almost tangible.

It hurts too much to look at the picture so instead I hold it against my heart and try to focus on the good times. There have been so many, surely it isn’t wrong to take comfort from them now that things are as fucked up as they are. I allow my mind to let the memories of those years out and I hug the frame as tears silently pour down my cheeks.

In a twilight state between being awake and asleep, I hear a noise from somewhere in the condo. Sitting up, I hit the remote for the lights in my room so that I am in the dark, because now would be the absolute worst time for Killian to come into my room. If he sees me like this and then sees the picture, he will lose it.

I hold my breath as I wait to see if my door will open, then let it out slowly when it doesn’t. I am so relieved that I smile, but that quickly turns to a frown when I hear a series of noises. Climbing out of my bed, I walk to my bedroom door and listen quietly. When the noises increase in frequency, I crack my door open and peek out. It takes a few seconds for me to locate the source of the noises, but when I do I have to shove my hand over my mouth to keep in the sound of distress that wants to escape past my lips.

Right inside the door to the condo, not fifty feet from my goddamn bedroom, Killian has some tramp pinned to the wall as he fingers her. The noises I was hearing were her grunts and groans, sounds that are muffled because he has his hand over her mouth in an apparent effort to keep the noise down.

I watch in horror as she clutches his shoulders and thrusts hard against his hand over and over. As she begins shuddering and letting out one continuous throaty sound, I know that marks the arrival of her orgasm. The second she is finished he pulls away from her and gestures to the floor. “Get on your knees and suck my dick.”

I want to close the door, but I don’t. Instead, I watch in a mix of shock, disgust and, to my horror, interest as she drops to her knees, opens his pants and pulls him out. He is huge and incredibly hard, and she moans like a bitch in heat as she wraps her lips around his swollen head. Once she has him in her mouth, he grasps her hair in his hands and begins what I can only describe as a brutal face fuck. Never in my life have I seen anything like it and I am incapable of looking away.

I study her face as she works on him, trying to figure out what it is about her that got his attention. She’s older; mid-forties I would guess, and she has more make-up on than I wear in a year. Don’t get me wrong—she’s definitely sexy, just in a really overdone manner. The way she’s taking his pounding into her mouth tells me that she’s been around the block many times. I know that he’s done when he yanks her mouth forward until he makes her gag. Holding her immobile, he groans as he empties himself down her throat.

He’s barely finished jerking into her mouth before he steps back. As he pulls away, long strands of come-infused saliva pour out of her mouth; something he completely ignores. After he puts himself away and adjusts his pants, he holds his hand out and helps her up from her knees. Pointing to the bathroom that is just next to where they’d been attacking each other against the wall, he tells her to clean herself up before she leaves.

Being dismissive appears to be the name of his game, something that both relieves and appalls me. On one hand it’s good to know that I’m not the only person that he is dismissive of, but on the other it’s horrifying to see how much of his humanity has been lost. I actually feel a twinge of pity for his cougar, and if I were in her position, I would have slapped him. His words don’t appear to offend her at all since she just smiles and says, “Thanks,” before walking into the bathroom.

He turns and looks towards my bedroom door at the same moment that I am about to close it. It’s too late for me to do anything to stop it, and as we make eye contact the expression on his face looks a lot like shame. Rather than being comforted by that, I get pissed off. Instead of shutting the door quietly, I swing it open and snap at him.

“You’re nothing but a filthy, disgusting pig!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off by raising my hands and giving him double middle finger salutes before I say, “Fuck off.” After that, I put my hands down before slamming—and locking—my bedroom door.

Without turning on any lights, I get back into my bed and bury myself under the covers. I hear the condo door open and close a few minutes later, signaling the departure of his cougar lover. Within a minute or so, he’s knocking at my door. I ignore him, so he knocks louder. After a solid forty seconds of his knocking and demands for me to open the door, I lose it.

“I’m going to sleep! Leave me the fuck alone!”

He leaves after that and I’m relieved because there’s really nothing that I can say to him. I’m bought, nothing but temporary property, and I definitely don’t have a leg to stand on. I know that, but if he says that to me right now I think I might lose my marbles.

I fight hard to get to sleep, and about an hour or so later I finally drift off.

“
Sloane, wake up! Wake up!”

Jerking into awareness, I immediately start coughing. There is a horrific odor, a chemical type of burning smell that is bitter, acrid, and so overwhelming that it feels as if it is choking me.

Fire. That’s what the smell is. Something is on fire.

Grabbing my hand and pulling me off the bed, Shannon shouts at me as she shoves me down to the ground. “Stay low and crawl to the bedroom door. We need to get out!”

Her words are terrifying, but they clear the cobwebs from my mind. It isn’t just
something
that is on fire
—
it is the lake house. I quickly get into crawling position and begin following closely behind Shannon as we make our way to my door. Without concern that she isn’t wearing anything else but a pair of underwear, she peels off her sleep shirt and uses it to cover my door handle as she opens it.

We both scream out when we see the hell that is happening outside the bedroom. The entire house is engulfed in flames.

“Turn around and crawl to the window. Now!”

Instead of moving, I begin screaming. “Daddy! Daddy? Daddy!”

My lungs burn and my throat is in agony, but I don’t care. I want my dad. I can’t leave without him. I scream and scream; fighting against Shannon as she physically drags me across the room to the window that faces the side of the house.

She holds tight to my arm with one hand while she opens my window and shoves the screen out with the other. “Jump out the window!”

Shaking my head frantically I try to get away from her. “My dad! I can’t leave my dad.”

We both look at the hallway outside my room, clearly seeing that the flames are starting to spread to that area. When I go to run around Shannon, she pushes me back. “You have to go, Slo!”

I am screaming for my dad and begging God to save him, but I am scared that it is too late because he isn’t calling for me. My dad would be ripping down walls with his bare hands to get to us if he were alive.

Before I can say this Shannon yells, “I have to do this, I’m sorry! I’ll be out in a minute. Call Stephen and get help. I love you!”

I don’t understand what she means because my brain is completely fried. She shoves me hard, and out the window I go. I scream as I feel the pain upon landing-- an agony that takes my breath away. I expect Shannon to jump out the window too, only she doesn’t. I try to scream, but the sounds that come out of me are nothing but distressed cries that don’t reach the level of a scream.

The world gets darker and darker, but I see the smoke billowing out of my bedroom window. As I hear the roar of the fire engines approaching, I whisper over and over again, “Daddy! Shannon! No, no, no, no, no!”

I want to move, need to, but I am totally immobilized from the agonizing pain in my side. I hold on long enough to see a firefighter running towards me
—
long enough to whisper that there are people in the house.

The last thing I say before I die is, “Please save my family.”