I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin and placed it on the table, signaling I was done. I did everything I could to appease Calvin tonight: returned all his smiles, stayed by his side, and ate his food. I hoped he hadn’t done something to it. I watched him closely while he prepared the meal, just in case. It was obvious who he was, and I knew I had to be careful.
“Dinner was delicious,” I said.
Calvin sat across from me, winding his spaghetti noodles around his fork. He ate slower than I did—purposefully, I assumed. He was trying to savor every moment he had left with me. I was just trying to get through dinner so all of this could be behind me come morning. I wasn’t interested in getting any closer to Calvin. I’d gotten close enough, maybe almost too close.
“ ank you. I’m glad you liked it.” His smile was beaming. He twisted up
another fork of tangled noodles and stabbed a meatball with force.
“I’m sorry to bring this up again.” I eyed Calvin cautiously. “What do the police think happened to Albert?”
He set his fork down and scratched the back of his head. “ ey think he was drunk, stumbled down there, and well, it was an accident.”
I raised my brow. “But he was allergic to bees. Why would he go back there?”
Calvin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “How’d you know that?”
“I saw his medical bracelet and asked him about it. He told me he was
basically allergic to everything.” I leaned back in my chair, matching his posture.
“He was.” Calvin shook his head. “Something like this was bound to
eventually happen.”
I swallowed hard. It was a strange thing for Calvin to say. “Don’t you think it’s odd he went back by the bees?”
He wiped at his eyes. I didn’t understand why he kept wiping them; they were dry. Had been all day.
“It was dark out. He was drinking. Probably got turned around.”
Turned around? On a ranch he was clearly very familiar with? at picture of him, Calvin, and Joe was more than a decade old. I considered prying more but decided to play it safe and just agree with him.
“You’re probably right. It’s just such a shame,” I said, delivering a sympathetic glance.
Calvin nodded. “It really is.” He didn’t break eye contact. But he wasn’t really looking at me anymore. He was studying me.
“Do you need help cleaning up?” I knew it was time to put an end to this night.
He brushed my o er away with a double ick of his wrist. “Oh no. I got it.”
I gave a small smile and tried to make my eyes appear big and puppy-like. “Mind if I head to bed? I’ve got a big day of traveling tomorrow.”
Calvin coughed. ere was a sadness in his eyes along with tinges of anger, frustration, and fear—all mixed into a perfect recipe of what, I presumed would be, a disaster. I nearly inched waiting for his reply. Instead, I raised my shoulders and my chin. I had learned con dence was the best armor.
“Yeah, of course,” he nally said.
I stood from my chair and inched away from the table. “ anks for everything. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gave a slight nod. “Good night, Grace.” “Good night, Calvin.”
I smiled and headed toward my bedroom. Right as I reached the long, dark
hallway, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It whipped me around with so much force that I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Calvin’s lips were on mine, and they were hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten enough at dinner. His hands ran up and down my back. His tongue pried open my mouth and forced its way in. His lips and tongue were wet and sloppy, not like I had experienced before.
I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him. He stumbled backward, immediately lowering his head. I closed my eyes for a brief second and inhaled.
e breath got caught in my lungs, and I held it there. Maybe it would never
escape. Maybe that breath of air would always be there, like a pain just beneath my ribs that I couldn’t get rid of—one that would always remind me of this moment with Calvin.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I said. He scratched at his forehead. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Calvin took a deep breath that sounded more like a grunt.
“I know you think you are, Grace,” he said, narrowing his eyes. I blinked a few times and stepped back. “What did you say?” “I said I know you are, Grace.”
I took another step back. Is that what he said? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
“I’m sorry. I just misread things.” He slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Sleep well,” he said and then he slunk back toward the kitchen.
I retreated down the hallway, not turning around until I felt the door handle in my hand. I opened the door and closed it behind me. When I reached for the lock, I realized he hadn’t xed it like he said he would. Before getting into bed, I leaned the desk chair against the door, securing the back underneath the handle. I hoped he’d leave it unlocked for me in the morning.
 |
 |
In the middle of the night, my eyes shot open. e room was pitch-black, silent. I wasn’t sure what it was that had roused me but something must have. My body was soaked with sweat. My heart raced, and my breathing was quick and uncontrolled like I had just run a marathon. I listened for any sound, any movement, but nothing. Perhaps it was nothing, a freak anomaly of the mind jarring me back to consciousness. But no—the brain doesn’t just do that, not for nothing. en a hand, cupped to t the curvature of my face, rested over my mouth, gently at rst, but then the pressure began to force my head deeper into the pillow, sending pain up the sides of my jaw.
“Shhhhh, time to be quiet, Grace Evans.”
I still couldn’t see well enough to make everything out, but that was Calvin’s voice. I’d know it anywhere. I went to grab for his hand, but a tight burn dug into both of my wrists. I had been tied to the bed in my sleep, legs as well, a bound victim a oat on a padded mattress. I tried to scream but it was nothing more than a mu ed wail through the hard-pressed skin and bones.
“Now, now, now, Grace. I said it was time to be quiet. Haven’t we caused enough trouble already?”
Just as quickly as it came, his hand lifted away—but then something rough and coarse was shoved deep into my mouth, almost gagging me. No sound could escape now. Tears rolled down my cheeks in fear of what would come.
“I’m sorry, Grace. Truly, I am. I can’t promise you will enjoy any of what is
about to happen to you. In fact, I can promise quite the opposite. But just know that it wasn’t your fault. You merely, well . . . made it worse.”
Goose bumps covered my body as something cold and lifeless pressed into
my center. And then a heat like I have never felt before, followed by immense
wetness. It was as though I had pissed the bed. en it came. e worst pain I had ever felt in my life. My mu ed screams were drowned out by Calvin’s deep laughter. e steel moved up toward my navel, meeting resistance as it passed every sinew and ber of muscle, bone, and tendon. I was being treated like a freshly caught sh, laid out on a newspaper.
“Remember what I said about shing? e trick is to get the hook all the way through it from end to end, so it can’t get o . You’re the worm, Grace. You could have been the sh, but you wanted to get away from me so badly.” He laughed maniacally.
I felt the steel press farther inside of me, scraping and tearing my insides. A hand squeezed my throat, crushing it further like a vice grip. My last breath was mere moments away. My mind closed o as the steel and barb began to push up through my esophagus and then . . .
“ .” Panting breaths and cold sweat consumed me as I jarred
awake, sitting up in the bed. I ran my hands all over my body, my throat, my wrists, my stomach—all unscathed. Oh my fucking God! What was that? I looked around the dark room. ere was nothing—just blackness and silence. When I was convinced no one else was in the room, I laid back down and closed my eyes, repeating over and over to myself, “One more sleep.”
