Epilogue: The Dark Duet (17 page)

I read about her kidnapping, living
every moment of her fear with her and feeling rage when she talked about Jair
slapping her unconscious. It was beyond surreal to read about Livvie’s first
impressions of my cold and detached voice as she lay bound and blind in
Felipe’s house. She’d thought I was going to rape and kill her. I suppose I
knew those things then, but I didn’t care and that was the worst part. I
remembered I hadn’t cared. That was the truth about the man I was.

I was a glutton for punishment and I
kept reading. To my surprise, I found erotic undertones. While I remembered the
moments vividly and with a certain sick fondness, reading them from her point
of view was like a knife twisting in my gut. I wasn’t sure if the Livvie I had
come to know was honestly the Livvie she had been. Perhaps I had simply altered
her to suit me.

I wondered if Livvie had been someone
else, a different girl as I had once suggested, if I would have gone through
with it and sold her to Vladek. I wondered if Livvie had never gotten away from
me, never suffered the encounter with the bikers, if I might have taken this
beautiful woman and ruined her. In those moments, I would have done anything to
unmake the words in front of me. I didn’t want them to exist. I didn’t want
them to be true. With all that I was, I longed to go back to that first day I
had met Livvie and make different choices. Yet there was the nagging voice in
my head reminding me how far back I’d have to go to undo my mistakes. I would
have to go back to the night Narweh beat me and give up my fight to live.

Where would Livvie be in her life if I
had just died?

Where would all of the women I had made
suffer be? I’d been too late to save Pia Kumar. I’d buried her masters alive
next to her so that she might be able to hear their screams. 

I had to look away from the screen. I
had to set the laptop down and walk onto the balcony for air. My chest felt
heavy.

It was no wonder she couldn’t say she
loved me. What right did I have to love?

I went inside and wrote her a note.

I read your book. I know you’ll be furious and you have a
right. I realize you’ll want to scream at me and you have a right to that as
well, but I have to be honest and tell you I’m not sure I can take it just yet.
I’ll be at the hotel for a few days. I need to think.

Yours,

Caleb

p.s.
I’m sorry for all of it.

I gathered up what meager belongings I
had in Livvie’s apartment and locked the door behind me when I left. I was numb
and unsure what to do next.

I could barely drive. My attention
wasn’t focused on the road, but on Livvie. Why had she let me stay with her?
After all the things I had put her through, I couldn’t imagine her reasons for
inviting me back into her life. Perhaps it was only that she feared me. Perhaps
she only wanted to keep me close and keep an eye on me. It was the smart thing
to do. It’s what I would do.

I hated how weak my feelings for her
had made me. I was not a sniveling child. I hated the way I felt empty when she
wasn’t around. I loathed waiting in my hotel room for her to get out of school
or off work. I thought of her as mine. She was mine, and yet I couldn’t touch
her where it mattered. I couldn’t touch her heart and force her to give me the
things I had stupidly come to need. For a moment… I hated her. I hated loving
her.

I’d meant to return to my hotel, but my
thoughts took me elsewhere. I’d seen the gym a few times and had even
considered going inside, but I ultimately decided against it. I was a violent
person. I didn’t think it was a good idea to be around violence. I had
apparently changed my mind. My violence needed to be let out.

I parked the vehicle and went inside. I
was immediately assaulted by the smell of male sweat. The room practically
teemed with body odor. There was no air conditioning, or escalators, or walls
lined with treadmills and circuit training machines. This was a real gym. This
was a place where men went to commune with the beast that lives in all of us.

Adrenaline found me at last. My heart
pounded with it, my fists clenched, my muscles yawned and flexed. I was
practically lusting for a fight. I searched the room for someone who might be
willing and able to take me on.

“Can I sign you up?” someone asked in
Spanish. I turned and glared at the man behind me. He wasn’t particularly tall,
but he carried himself with extreme confidence. He was perhaps a little younger
than me too, and I thought that added to his demeanor. I took my measure slowly
and decided the man was likely a martial artist of some kind—his legs looked
capable of snapping bones.

“I’d like to fight,” I said as calmly
as I was able. I must not have been very successful in portraying calm because
he eyed me somewhat suspiciously.

“English? Okay. I speak little bit. You
need…” He struggled for a word but ended up tugging on his clothes.

“I didn’t bring any,” I said. “I don’t
need any. Just like this.” I swept my hand across my t-shirt and jeans. I
didn’t bother explaining I could speak Spanish. I wasn’t in the mood for
conversation. He smiled and shook his head.

“Fighter? What
style?” He walked back toward the front door and into a room on the left. I
assumed it was the office. I stepped inside, somewhat annoyed I couldn’t just
jump into the action.

“I’m trained.” Rafiq had been a
military officer and had given me quite the education. One of my favorite
memories was the day I’d finally bested him in hand to hand. He’d taken a big
risk teaching me all that he did. Without him I’d have been an illiterate,
defenseless whore. It was ironic that the very skills he’d taught me had aided
in his demise.

The man at the desk rolled his eyes and
muttered about me in Spanish. He thought I was an idiot who’d come to get his
ass kicked. He seemed amused by the idea. He grabbed some papers from a printer
behind him and placed them in front of me.

“Please to
write all your information and sign the bottom. Need identification and money
for membership.”

I filled in the necessary information
and took out all the cash in my wallet. It was enough to cover my membership
for three months. The man at the desk seemed pleased with my payment and stood
to shake my hand.

“Carlos.”

Seeing no reason to make a new enemy, I
shook his hand and tried out my name.

“James.” I
dropped my hand and looked toward the ring. “Can I fight now?”

Carlos shook his head, somewhat
exasperated.

“Okay. You
fight.” He walked beyond me and I followed him toward the ring. He called out
to a nearby fighter. I listened while he informed the man of my intentions. The
fighter sized me up and smirked before he informed Carlos he was willing to
take me on. Neither of them seemed to think I had any talent.

I paid them little mind as I removed my
socks, shoes, and shirt. I didn’t care how the fight was going to go. I only
cared about hitting. I accepted the ill-fitting mouth guard handed to me and
put it in my mouth. I also took heed and wore the required headgear.

Within minutes, I stood in the ring
across from Fernando. I thought we were fairly matched. He was a touch shorter
than me, but his muscles were bulkier and more defined. I knew his fighting
style involved the use of his legs as he stretched them, bending his feet
toward his ass.

I rolled my head and shoulders, shaking
my arms out. I bounced on the balls of my feet, warming my muscles as much as I
could in the short span of time I’d given myself to prepare. I held no
illusions about not getting hit. In fact, I craved the blows that would soon
land on me. I knew they would incense me. I knew they would trigger the rage
I’d been keeping locked inside. I knew once the rage took over, all thoughts of
Livvie would cease. I knew the pain inside would yield to the pain on the
outside.

Carlos called us toward the center and
went over the rules for my benefit: No gouging, biting, breaking of bones, hits
to the groin, head-butting, or fighting after the bell. There were more rules
than I was used to, but then again I’d never fought anyone but Rafiq for fun.
Even then, I was learning survival. Implicit in the rules, but not necessary
for anyone but me, was one more rule: No killing.

Fernando and I nodded at one another
and took one or two steps back from the center. Carlos left the ring and took a
position not far away. He rang the bell. The man opposite me was not eager.
Despite the smirk and overconfidence he displayed, he took the time to circle
the ring and gauge my strengths. I did the same.

It erupted quickly. For all that I was
expecting a kick from his powerful legs, I was caught off guard when he simply
rushed me with the full force of his body. He lifted me and threw my back into
the corner. A knee came up and landed on my ribs. My breath left me in a rush.

My hands free, I joined them together
and hit him in the junction between neck and shoulder. He took a step back and
I landed another blow in the same spot before I had enough room to lift my
right leg and push him back. He smiled and made a motion with his upraised
hands: Come on.

He’d winded me and I had barely done
anything to convince him I was a worthy opponent. It was a situation I intended
to remedy quickly. I came at him with a series of kicks that he met easily
enough. I came at him with so many kicks he diverted his attention from my
hands and I made my move. I punched him in the side of the neck with my left,
stepped in, and sent an elbow to his temple with my right. He lost enough of
his balance I was able to hook one of his legs and push him to the mat.

Fernando was a skilled fighter and the
attack did not daze him for long.  He
quickly rolled, catching me with his powerful legs and flinging me to the mat.
His foot came up and his heel landed on my back with impressive force. The gym
seemed to come to life in those moments as others began to gather around the
ring. They cheered for Fernando.

On the mat, we grappled, each of us
avoiding an arm around the neck or an arm grab that would undoubtedly lead to a
painful submission hold. The bell rang before either of us was willing to
surrender our position.

“Separate!” called Carlos. I kicked
Fernando off of me and scrambled to my feet. We stared at one another and
heaved for breath. Carlos was laughing and remarked that I had more fight than
he thought.

Fernando told me not to get too
excited. He’d been taking it easy on me but was ready to kick my ass just as
soon as Carlos rung the bell.

I took off my headgear and threw it
outside the ring. Mimicking Fernando’s hand gesture from earlier, I raised my
hands and told him to kick my ass if he thought he could. Everyone seemed
pleasantly surprised by my ability to speak Spanish. Everyone except Fernando.
He removed his own headgear and tossed it. Carlos rang the bell.

Fernando rushed again, but I was ready
this time. I waited until he was within arm‘s reach and used his momentum
against him. I stepped to the side, caught his neck with my arm and jumped on
his back. We went down with a loud thud as I rode Fernando to the ground. With
my knees firmly planted in his sides, I went to work punching Fernando in the
face before he covered himself. My hands throbbed with pain after colliding
with bone.

Fernando rolled, knocking me to the
side, and delivered a backward kick that landed between my shoulder blades. I
cried out, my hands scrambling for purchase on the other man’s sweaty flesh.
Wearing jeans had been a mistake. The fabric trapped me. Two more kicks landed
on my back and I saw spots.

The fight had gone from a sparring
match to an earnest struggle. Fernando scrambled to get on my back, his arms
trying to wind their way around my neck. I kept my arm up to protect my
windpipe.

A familiar feeling spread throughout my
body. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was winning. A fist collided with
the side of my face and my teeth bit down hard on the mouth guard. I could taste
blood in my mouth.

“You
can’t kill me,
Khoya.
I’m a god
here.”

I gritted my teeth and pushed with all
my strength on the arm attempting to circle my neck. Fernando’s arm trembled
and eventually he was forced to readjust his position on my back. The bell rang
and Carlos yelled for us to separate, but neither of us listened. I refused to
be saved by the bell for a second time.

I pushed myself up with my arms,
exposing my neck to Fernando in a way he couldn’t resist. As he wrapped his arm
around my neck, his face pressed to the side of my own, I reached behind his
head with one arm and grasped my other hand. I squeezed. Fernando grunted into
my ear. I crushed his windpipe with my shoulder as I pressed him from behind.

With each of us having the other by the
throat, it became a test of endurance. Fernando’s position was better than
mine, but he was used to fighting for sport. I was accustomed to fighting to
live. I squeezed until my shoulders burned. I had run out of oxygen long ago
and black spots invaded my vision. But I held on. I held on until I felt
Fernando sag against me, only seconds before I blacked out.