FALL (The Senses) (45 page)

“I know he was
there. And don’t start with me, Anstice.” Danielle pointed at the painting.
“I’m telling you, this guy had something to do with my abduction.” It was in
his eyes staring into her soul, telling her he felt her pain, knew what she’d
been through. In her dreams this beautiful man spoke to her, reached out with
his hands and tried to save her from the black shadow who had tortured her.
She’d know if he’d been responsible, wouldn’t she? She was drawn to him, not
revolted by his face. Even if her memory was washed away, her body knew.

“Danielle—”
Anstice placed her hand on her shoulder, “—you have to stop this. Please. It’s
making it worse.”

Danielle was
well aware that Anstice hated the portraits. When her friend had seen the first
one two years ago, she’d looked sick to her stomach, her complexion fading to a
translucent white and her eyes widening with horror. Ever since then she
avoided the paintings altogether. Her excuse was that the man looked haunted
and it freaked her out to look at him.

He was rather
formidable looking with those piercing eyes. But he also emitted a strength
that in some sense gave her determination to conquer another day. Then again,
he reminded her of the frustration of living with a black hole in her mind.
She’d never been one to sit quietly and take whatever life threw at her;
instead she fought for what she desired. And she needed this. No, it was
stronger than that. She had to have this like her lungs needed the next breath.

Danielle
shrugged off Anstice’s hand and strode to the front door. “I have to remember,
damn it.” She flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the door to her art
gallery, which she’d aptly named Danielle’s. “You have no clue what it’s like
waking up in the night freezing cold, feeling like clammy ice-cold hands are on
my body, hearing a stupid tap dripping, but lo and behold there’s no water
running anywhere in my place. Fuckin’ hell, Anstice, I was tortured by some
psycho.” She kicked an unopened box of supplies. “I can’t even go on a date
anymore without being afraid it’s the guy coming to abduct me again. I hate
it.”

“It’ll take
time.” Anstice’s voice was soft, and tears surfaced in her eyes.

“Time? Are you
joshing me? It’s been two bloody years. I live like a hermit. Me. The free
spirit with a tattoo on her butt. I don’t like men touching me. Black licorice
makes me vomit, but before the abduction, I ate it by the truckload. I hate any
sort of confinement and . . .” Shit, she even peed with the bathroom door open.
Danielle stormed over to the portrait. “And I hate you,” she shouted and then
punched her fist through the middle of the canvas.

Anstice gasped,
hand flying to her mouth, a tear escaping and sliding down her cheek.
“Danielle, please.”

Danielle threw
the ruined painting across the room. It landed face up on the floor, vivid
green eyes piercing and watching her with an all-knowing look as though the
bastard knew she was all screwed up.

She gave a loud,
frustrated grunt and stomped over to her cans of paint and picked one up. She
carried it over to the canvas, opened the lid, tilted her hand and let the
bright red paint slip over the lip to land on top of the green eyes. “There,”
she said. “Now stay the fuck out of my head.”

The back door
creaked open and then slammed shut.

Anstice sighed
as
 a 
Keir appeared. He approached his wife with
long confident strides then put his arm around her waist, drawing her close.

Danielle ignored
them as she carried the red paint over to the closet. She threw open the doors
and began pulling out every painting she’d ever done of the green-eyed man. She
kicked her foot through the center of each one and then proceeded to pour paint
over the haunting eyes. Keir and Anstice were watching, but neither
interrupted. Besides, she had no intention of stopping until every last one was
destroyed.

She had to get
this guy out of her head before he ruined her life. All she did was think about
him, dream about him, wonder if he existed. Yeah, she needed all the W
questions answered. Shit, she’d even done hypnosis to try to eradicate him from
her mind, but all it managed to do was amplify her awareness of him.

She dribbled the
last of the bright red paint on the final painting and then let the jar slip
from her hand. It bounced off the walnut hardwood floor and rolled on its side
to settle beneath an easel. She looked around at the red paint puddled on the
floor, damaged canvases ripped and thrown in every direction. Hours of work
ruined in minutes; her gallery floor ruined in seconds.

A giggle escaped
and then another and another until she was laughing hysterically. She laughed
until her shoulders and stomach ached. It felt good to laugh again, even though
it wasn’t because she found this funny; rather it was just the opposite. God,
she was losing it. She’d end up like her father after all, sitting alone in the
darkness, unable to decipher what was real.

“You will stay
at our place tonight,” Keir said.

Anstice nodded.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”

Danielle stopped
laughing. God, what was she doing? What had she done? She
’
’d turned every single portrait into what looked like a bloodbath of
insanity. She tapped her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I . . . guys
thanks, but it looks like I have a little cleaning up to do before I open
tomorrow. Wouldn’t want clients to think I’ve lost it or anything.” Maybe she
had killed the pesky mosquito. Time to stand on her own two feet without those
piercing eyes. Forget the past and live in the present. Yeah, like that was
going to happen any time soon.

Keir lowered his
voice an octave. “I must insist. I cannot allow you to remain here alone.”

“Oh, pull that
insisting crap on someone else, Keir. It doesn’t work with me.” Danielle rolled
her eyes at her friend and Anstice bit her lower lip, looking rather sheepish
at her husband’s behavior.

Danielle liked
Keir a hell of a lot, but the man was demanding. Honestly, if she were Anstice,
she’d punch him in the jaw a few times and threaten to leave him if he
continued to insist, demand or order. But, she’d never seen Anstice happier.
And she had to admit, Anstice usually got her own way with him. Keir tended to
back down when Anstice’s anger surfaced.

“I just had a
freakout, okay? I’m entitled. I’m fine now.”

“We’ll help you
clean up,” Anstice said.

Danielle shook
her head and the pencil slipped from her hair. Her almond locks fell to swirl
around her shoulders. “Damn.” She picked up the pencil and twirled her hair
around it again. “I need time alone, okay? I just destroyed my favorite
paintings and dumped red paint all over my gallery floor.” Keir open his mouth
to protest and she shot him a glare. “Don’t say another word, Keir. I like
you—most of the time anyway—but I’ll kick your ass if need be.”

Anstice smiled,
no doubt laughing at the preposterous notion. “We’ll leave, but call me
tomorrow, okay? And the dinner thing is still happening.” Anstice hesitated,
glancing at Keir as if they were mentally communicating. It pissed her off when
they did that, so bloody connected together that they knew what the other
wanted to say without actual words. Anstice continued, “We want you to meet
someone. A good friend.”

Danielle stopped
mid-way from bending down to pick up a destroyed canvas. She straightened and
looked at Anstice. “Blind date me, and I call off our friendship.”

Anstice quickly
rectified the misconception. “No, no. It’s not like that. Waleron just might be
someone you can . . . talk to.”

“A head doctor?
You want me to see a head doctor again?” Danielle cursed under her breath
several times. Doctors had done shit for her father and sure as hell would do
shit for her. Besides, right after the episode she’d seen a therapist in the
hospital and that did nothing for her. All she managed to get out of therapy
was a “happy place.”

So her best
friend thought she was crazy. Maybe she was. God, she had to get a handle on
things.

“He’s not a
psychiatrist,” Anstice said. “He’s someone who might be able to help with what
you’re going through.” Anstice straightened her shoulders and raised her chin a
notch. “I’m not taking no for an answer this time. You never go out anymore.
All you do is work and sit here hibernating. So Saturday night after you close,
I expect to see you at our place.”

Did she have a
choice? If she refused, they’d be over here every night until she agreed and
that was unacceptable. Space and solitude had become her two best friends.

“Fine, I’ll
come. But tell the boys to take a hike. They pissed me off the last time.”

“Jedrik’s
flirting is harmless,” Anstice said.

“Yeah well, tell
him to take his charming ass out the door or I’ll do it for him.” The last time
she’d come for dinner, the thirty-something boys—and she considered her
friends’ roommates Galen and Jedrik were boys considering they bantered back
and forth like a couple of ten-year-olds—had fought over who could get her to
go on a date with them. They had actually made a hundred-dollar bet.

Keir bowed his
head. “I’ll be certain to keep them occupied elsewhere.”

Danielle watched
them leave hand in hand. She had to admit, she was glad that Anstice had found
Keir. It was obvious from the way his eyes smoldered every time he looked at
her that he was smitten. Okay, smitten was too wuss of a word to describe anything
to do with Keir, rather he was utterly, totally besotted.

Even though she
was happy Anstice had found the love of her life, it also brought with it a
barrier, this distance between them. They’d grown up together, friends from the
first moment they met in grade two in the playground. Anstice was crying over
an injured bird and some boys in grade five were teasing her. Danielle
remembered walking up to the little instigator, who was doing most of the
egging on, and slugging him one in the jaw. He fell flat on his ass and began
crying. She and Anstice had been friends ever since.

Something had
changed since the “episode”—that was how they referred to her abduction.
Anstice was leery, refused to talk about what had happened and seemed
withdrawn. Could it be possible Anstice was having trouble dealing with it? Did
Keir dislike her? No, Anstice wouldn’t put up with that. But the timing was the
same; Keir had met Anstice a week or so before the abduction. Something had
changed in that time period. But what?

Mostly, Danielle
felt disappointed with herself. She had always been free-spirited and
devil-may-care. Now she was trapped in a hellish past. The funny thing was she
didn’t even recall the two days she’d been held in captivity. The doctors said
it was normal, a way to protect her mind from something so traumatic. But her
mind was snowed under with flashes of sounds and scents that reminded her of
the horror she’d survived.

After the
episode, her friends had given up on her. Six months of ignoring their calls
and emails tended to lead to desertion. Except for Anstice, of course. She kept
calling, kept coming over, kept inviting her out. She was like a badger
attached to her bloody leg. No matter how much Danielle tried to shake her off,
Anstice refused to let go.
Guess you find out who your real friends are.
So why then did she think their relationship was different? Anstice had stood
by her through the past two God-awful years.

Gregg, a guy she
dated before the abduction, had visited her in the hospital. He tried to start
things up again. She royally screwed that up by screaming at him to get the
fuck away from her the first time his fingers caressed her neck . . . well,
needless to say he vamoosed. Her flings became nonexistent; besides, touching
made her recoil and her stomach started a full out riot.

She shuddered,
running her hands up and down her arms. Always cold. This bizarre feeling as if
she’d been in sub-zero temperatures, constantly shivering, her body unable to
provide warmth.

God, two years
had gone by since she’d been intimate with anyone, and the funny thing was she
didn’t even give a crap. Just thinking about a man touching her brought a dark
ominous cloud over her mind. No more wild sexual encounters like with Kevin in
the restaurant washroom or in Vee’s hall closet with Kevin’s foot in the mop
bucket. Actually, the time in the elevator with Gavin had been the most erotic
and daring. Six months in his arms had been feral and when she ended it, like
she did with every guy, she’d felt a longing, a tickle of wanting to take the
relationship to the next level. But the reminder of her father’s brains
splattered all over his desk was vivid enough to end any attachment before it
ever got to the point of loving.

She’d had no
qualms about approaching a guy she found attractive, whether in a grocery
store, pub, park or even the bank. If she thought a guy was cute, she’d ask him
out.

Rejection came
with the territory, but it never bothered her. So they said no, whoopee. It
wasn’t as if they disliked her or found her unattractive. She took it as either
no chemistry or they were taken, the faithful kind.

These days, if
she saw a man she was attracted to, she walked the other way. Inside she was a
tornado of emotions—tearing, pushing and pulling in every direction.