Page 39 of Reckoning

I deserve to live, and to smile, to not just exist the way I am right now.

After everything I’ve been through, by god, do I deserve all of that and more.

But I’m so damn afraid.

Even now, in this room, where I’m the safest I can be, it feels like any minute the walls are going to crumble down and my enemies are going to swoop in. Otto is going to swoop in. And I’ll be back, in that room, in that house, chained, bound, completely helpless while he and his buddies do whatever they want.

My stomach reacts. I scramble to my feet but I don’t make it. I barely get out of the room before I’m vomiting, puking up bile because my stomach has no food in it. If I was back in the old house, back with my dear husband, I know what he would do. Every time the drugs made me sick, every time I pissed or puked over myself from what they did, they rubbed my face in it. Like I was vermin. Like I was less than an animal.

But right now, all I’ve done is construct my own kind of cage, one meant to make me feel safe – but it doesn’t.

I get to my feet, resolve strengthening as I take one step after another. I can’t fix myself overnight. I can’t put on a smile and pretend none of it happened, but I can’t hide here forever either.

Otto didn’t kill me. He might have broken my spirit, might have hurt me in the very worst ways imaginable but I survived. Isurvived.

“…You’re only letting them win.”

Ben’s words repeat in my head. And I repeat them. Over and over. I grab a pen and scrawl it onto the stark white walls, like it’s some sort of mantra.

I’m letting them win. I’m letting those bastards still terrorise me. I’ve become my own torturer now and I’m certain I’m doing a far better job of it than any of them ever did.

* * *

Maybe I’m suicidal.Maybe I have a death-wish but it’s like something in my head clicks and I need to prove to myself that I’m not back there, that I’m brave, that I’m free.

I grab my cloak, wrapping it around myself and shove on a scarf for good measure. It’s a cold night, cold enough that you can see your breath in the air.

When the snows come, it’ll feel worse, this feeling of being trapped.

I need to get out now, I need to break whatever this hold is on myself. I need to do this before the cold weather gets to that stage.

The street is deserted.

I jumped over the wall, sneaking past the guards though I’ll admit I’m impressed I actually managed it. They seem to be constantly on watch, constantly loitering around; not that I’m complaining.

But I don’t want them with me.

I don’t want to be guarded right now.

I don’t want to be watched.

For a few precious hours I want to be alone, out in the world. I need to prove that not everyone is out to get me.

And as I tighten my grip around the knife in my pocket, I also need to prove that if someone is out there, if they want to try, then I am ready. I will defend myself.

And this time, this time I’m coming out on top.

Koen

Christian Moran.

Now he was a tricky one to track down, to get alone. He’s more jumpy than his mate Danny. More aware of the fact that there’s a target on his back and his days are numbered.

He’s never alone, at least not in public. He keeps a pack of security around him at all times.

Of course it helps that he’s a multi-millionaire so he has the funds to pay for it. And no one blinks an eye when a rich man effectively armours himself. No, they see it as normal, necessary.

My lip curls as I watch him. He thinks he’s so damn smart. He thinks he’s got all his bases covered. That he’s untouchable.

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