Drawn to you (14 page)

I don’t like dishonesty but I believe some things are better left untold. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to me, I try to offer some comfort.

“Don’t cry. You will get this all straightened out.”

I leave Gaby to change after she insists she’s fine, and go back to my apartment.

The guys are in a heated match so I sneak to my room, slip into a chemise, and crawl into my king size four-poster bed that’s draped in cream bedding I bought on another shopping trip with Gaby.

Cream carpets are fitted in the bedroom because I hate the cold floor in Finlay’s room. Gold drapes cover the windows; everything smells so fresh and new.

Finlay surpassed himself with all the flowers and the painting.
He’s so perfect.

I hoped with tonight being so eventful he’d forget my “
I love you”
slip earlier.

Digging my cell from the pocket of my discarded jeans, I shoot a quick text to Gaby to double-check she’s okay. My phone alerts me to a new message.

Hey Toni, how are you? I’ve been thinking of you.

Hoping you settled in ok at Brown. I know it’s been a while but I’d love to hear from you, you’re always in my heart.

James xxx

James.
Mixed emotions fill my head, memories of how we were before the attack and how much things changed after . . .
how much he changed.
I can’t deal with them, so turning my phone to silent and switching the light off, I bury my feelings under the covers and eventually drift to sleep.

Please don’t touch me! Please!

Oh my god! Stop! No! No!

Please! Why is there blood?

Oh my God, what have you done?

No, no, please!

Air fills my lungs in a rapid whoosh as I fly from the bed.

“Antonia, baby.” Finlay is next to me, his warm arms come around me, offering comfort and safety. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Tears hit my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying

“Come sit back on the bed.”

“I’m sorry, I . . .”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve never seen a nightmare like that. What do you dream about, baby?”

“I can’t, Finlay. I’m scared to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I just, I don’t want you to change towards me.”

“Antonia, that’s ridiculous. I could never change how I feel about you. Look at me.” He grabs my cheeks, swiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m falling so hard for you and nothing can stop that. I breathe in when you breathe out. I’m consumed with you. I just want to fade into you, live you.”

“You love me?”

“Yes, from the first second I saw you.”

A fresh tear drops to my cheek. “You were a douche the first time you saw me in your apartment.” I bring my lips to taste his, smothering his chuckle.

He’s soft and gentle, pulling me against his lips. “That was more about Gaby than you. You have to trust me, Antonia, when I tell you that this is the real deal for me. I need you to trust me and let me in. Please tell me what happened to you. Help me understand, baby.”

I swallow the huge lump in my throat

“I like you calling me baby.” I smile, and he returns it with a breath-taking smile of his own. His hands stroke down my hair to soothe me, and after a few deep breaths I begin to unravel, opening up the dark part of me I never wanted him to see.

“My mom used to own a jewelry store. Did you know that?”

He nods.

“Well, I worked there part time on occasion, if someone was sick and Mom needed cover. This particular day, Richard, the guy who opened the store on a Saturday morning, called last minute to let us know he was going to be late.” I take a few breaths and re-live the memory as I tell it

“Happy Anniversary!” I squeal, bringing Mom her gift to pack with her. It’s a hand painted picture of her and Daddy on their wedding day. It took me over a month to get it right. Daddy’s taking her away for the weekend to celebrate twenty-four years together. He has a busy morning with an important meeting so they’re not leaving until lunchtime. James is coming over to pick me up to take me out for the day before spending our first weekend alone together.

While the parents are, away the children will play.

Nervous energy zips through my veins making me giddy. Mom squeezes me and adds the wrapped gift to her suitcase. The house phone rings and it’s Richard complaining that he’s not going to make opening.

“I can open up, Mom. I’ll just call James and let him know to pick me up a little later straight from there.”

“Are you sure, honey? That would be amazing.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll take you down because I need to pick up your dad’s gift.”

Mom had a special watch made and engraved for him that was delivered to the shop the night before.

James doesn’t pick up his cell when I call him so I leave a voicemail letting him know the change in plans.

I don’t feel a sixth sense about going inside like some people claim to feel before something bad happens. Mom and I chat happily, keying in the code and going in through the back door. Nothing is out of place, the atmosphere doesn’t reek of evil.

“I’m just going to get Daddy’s gift from the safe. You put the kettle on; I have time for a coffee with my favorite daughter.”

“Your only daughter.” I roll my eyes, making her laugh.

I do as she asks until I hear a clatter coming from the office she’s gone into. I rush in there without thought.

“Everything o . . .”

It’s a surreal moment, seeing someone you love being held at knifepoint. Shocked cries spill from Mom as she tries to control the shuddering of her body against his. My whole life filters through my mind up until the thirty seconds before I walked into this room. This can’t be happening. Not to us. Not to me.

“Well, well, Antonia.” The man holding her whistles.

Mom’s breath hitches at this man knowing my name. Confusion, fear, and disbelief sits heavy in my chest.

“Do I know you?” I croak out past the lump in my throat. He flicks his eyes to where a photo of me with my name printed across it decorates Mom’s desk.

“No, but we’re going to change that.”

All that plagues my mind is the fact that I can see his face. He isn’t hiding it from us. Blond, scruffy hair hangs limply from his head. Blue, lifeless eyes hold misery and death, and he’s letting us see him, which meant he isn’t afraid of us describing him. We are going to die today.

“Who else are we expecting?” he asks, still pressing the knife down on my mom’s throat, causing a blood blister to mar her skin.

“No one, just us,” I tell him, holding my hands up in surrender.

His eyes narrow on me and he points the knife in my direction. It’s carved with a serrated edge; it looks like something Rambo would carry. Heart-stopping terror ricochets through every inch of my soul.

“If you’re lying, you’ll be responsible for whatever measures I take.”

He points to a bag on the floor. It’s not ours so he must have brought it in with him. How he got in here puzzles me. We have passcodes, which only Mom, Richard and I have. I’ve known Richard my whole life; his family works with Daddy and they have been close friends since forever, so he won’t be involved, would he? The call about him being late replays in my head . . . he wouldn’t . . . he doesn’t have reason. I rationalize with myself.

“Take out the rope and tie her hands.” I look through the bag but find no rope. “Hurry the fuck up or I’ll slit her throat and save you the hassle.”

Bile burns my throat as I desperately search the bag again. “There’s no rope,” I tell him in a pleading manner.

His free hand grasps Mom’s hair, making her cry out in pain. He turns their bodies, forcing her head down against the table. My legs give out on me and I land in a heap when I hear the impact, and her body falls limply to the floor.

Boots stomp towards me, snatching the bag from my lap.

“Motherfucker.”

He throws the bag across the room and points the knife down at me, but before he can speak, Richard’s voice calls, “I’m here! Hello? I made it.”

I want to scream, run, warn him not to come in here but the handle turns and it’s too late. He enters, noticing me on the floor. His eyes drop and as I look up at him with tear-soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the devil who has invaded our lives grabs him from behind, bringing the knife across his throat quickly and easily. A hot crimson spray hits my face and chest. I can taste it in my mouth that’s open, screaming in silence. His brown, warm eyes are still looking at me as his body catches up with reality and slips down to his knees before falling backwards. Rivers of his blood pump from the open wound. He’s dead and it’s because of me. I should have told him Richard might show up. Now he’s gone forever. His dad won’t be able to cope; Richard was their only son.

Pain burns my scalp as I’m dragged by my hair across the floor to the desk where Mom lays unconscious.

“Mommy,” I whisper.

The scent of cigarettes dusts my face when the devil drops to his knees in front on me with wire rope in his hands; it’s what Mom uses to make craft jewelry for charity fairs.

“I warned you, and you clearly underestimated me.” Unwinding the wire, he binds my wrists over and over again then ties me to the table leg of Mom’s desk.

Tears come fast, burning an already painful path over my delicate flesh. My breathing is harsh and uneven, and a fresh wave of panic washes through me. I start thrashing at the restraints; they cut into me but I don’t care. The blood blisters and pools, leaking down my arms, but I can’t get free.

His weight drops over me, the knife digging into my throat. It’s still wet from Richard’s murder.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill you.”

He pushes the knife into my skin, slicing me as a warning. He grins as he uses the knife to cut down the middle of my top, slicing the skin with shallow cuts as he exposes me. There’s pain everywhere but I know the worst is to come and fear makes me almost pass out.

“I’m going to fuck you in every hole as a parting gift.”

Vomit spills from my mouth, almost choking me to death. I’m on my back with no way of moving him off me and he’s restricting my oxygen with his weight.

I can’t believe this is the weekend James and I decided to take the next step. This awful, foul man is about to rob me of it instead.

He moves over my body, making vulgar comments that I try to block out. He yanks down my trousers, making me cry like a lost little girl. I’m so helpless; no one is going to save me and I can’t stop him myself.

He’s going to rape me right here on the floor as I lay next to my mom, and Richard’s blood puddles at my feet.

“I can smell your pussy, Antonia. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You’re a little slut and you know it.”

My body convulses with fear as he drags the knife to cut my panties away. I hate that he’s using my name, making it personal when he is just some sick, twisted creature and we’re the unlucky people he stumbled upon

“You might want to stop wriggling.”

He spits on my mound and drags the blade down over me. I’m stock-still, terrified he’s going to mutilate me. He blows over my exposed skin and it dawns on me that he’s shaving my small patch of hair. Pain burns there a few moments later, making my body buck. “Move again and I’ll ram this blade up your fucking arse and cut you from hole to hole.”

I want to scream, I want to call out.

I want to die.

After a few painful minutes, he flips me over onto my stomach. His hands part the cheeks of my bottom and his fingers prod at my hole. Please no, my mind pleads but no words pass my lips. I’m mute. His fingers penetrate me; it’s the most humiliating, painful thing he’s done yet.

“Toni.” I hear the distant sound of James’s voice.

You’re imagining it.

The weight and hands of the devil leave me. I hear a flurry of activity and then James’ voice shouting. I’m turned over and he looks down at me, his face as white as the walls. His eyes fill with water as his hands battle to get me free.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he pleads over and over.

My pulse pounds in my ears. The world stands still, noise comes and goes but I’m stuck there, gasping, fighting to breathe, and eventually I stop.

“Oh my God, baby,” Finlay mutters, dragging me back to the present. Pulling me onto his lap, he burrows his head in my neck.

“I woke up a day later in hospital. I’d lost a lot of blood and was in shock. Mom suffered a concussion.” I laugh without any humor. “She hates herself for not being able to protect me. We both have to live with this forever and it’s always there in the darkness, in my dreams. Every good memory of James was tainted with the bad memory of him finding me.”

He’s squeezing me so tight it’s painful, but I let him hold me because it’s a hell of a lot better than him running for the hills.

“The police believe we interrupted a robbery and he changed plans when we showed up. But it felt more than that. Who goes in to rob a store and ends up murdering and assaulting someone like that?”

“Is he still out there?”

Grief alters his tone and I know how hard this is to hear. I hate re-living it and I know how much it cripples me that people I love were involved in something so horrific.

“They never found him. He wore latex gloves that were there for him because Mom has to use them when handling diamonds and cleaning solution. They were hoping to find some evidence on my body but James had washed me down to remove the blood.” I shake my head. “I didn’t even know that until the police told me when they dropped the news that they had nothing. The cameras were disabled and they have no clue how he got past the codes.”

James couldn’t forgive himself for being late that day, and every time we tried to get close he would shut down. He said he couldn’t get the images of me like that out of his mind and he couldn’t cope.