THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 31

I S L A

     “SHE LEFT HIM there, and that was the last time she ever saw him alive.” Parker closes the book he has been reading to me and turns to face me.

     “Do you like the story?”

     “I hate it,” I spill out.

     We’re sitting by the cheery fire. He has bound my hands and legs. I planned to escape tonight, thinking that he’d leave, but he didn’t go anywhere, which gave me no time to execute my plan. He hasn’t manhandled me yet, apart from binding my hands and legs. He’d fed me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I haven’t taken a bath, although he suggested I do that, but I told him flat out I wasn’t taking off my clothes with him in the bedroom.

     He places the book on the couch and sits close to me on the floor. “I know you’re angry, but you have to understand I’m doing this because I love you.”

     He strokes my hair, then moves over to me, resting his forehead on my shoulder. He starts caressing my face, and I want to bite off his hand. “We could’ve been so happy together, you know?”

     The proximity makes my skin crawl. All I’m thinking about is stabbing him with the first weapon I lay my hands on. It’s morbid, but the only way I will get out of here alive is to kill him. I doubt he’ll leave. It’s dark and he knows I will try and escape if he leaves.

     He brings his lips closer to mine and kisses me. Disgusted, I recoil and hit him on the forehead. He lets out a moan and mutters curses at me.

     “Don’t you touch me! You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

     He stares daggers at me. Suddenly he springs forward and grabs my neck. He presses it, choking me.

     “You’re hurting me, Parker!”

     He doesn’t let go. He seems to enjoy inflicting physical pain on me, or he wants to give me a terrible scare. If it is the latter, then he’s not remotely close to it.

     His phone vibrates. He takes his hand off my neck and I cough.

     He glances at his phone and then puts it aside. We exchange a tense look, and he says, “I’m sorry. Never do that again.”

     “Let me go, Parker.”

     He rolls his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. Get that into your head.”

     “Please,” I say, “Uncle Sam has dementia. He forgets things easily. He needs me. He’ll get worried.”

     “I don’t care about the old man.”

     “But I do, and if you love me as you claim you will let me go.”

     “I don’t understand why you want to leave this wonderful place.” He ogles the room, as though mesmerized by it. “This is heaven, just for me and you.”

     I shake my head. “No, Parker. You’re crazy. Maybe it is heaven for you, but it’s hell for me. Do you have any idea how serious this is? You could go to prison for kidnapping me.”

     He scoffs. “That’s the problem. They won’t find this place. Even if they do, they won’t find us alive. If I die, you’re coming with me.”

     I sigh tenderly.

     “It’s late. Time to go to bed.” He brings out the gun, walks toward me, and guides me to my feet. He unbinds the rope around my legs. My first instinct is to run. I don’t give it a thought. I put myself together and hit his loin. He lets out a yell. The gun slips out of his hand, clattering away. I lift a leg. I imagine running. I’m out of this prison, sliding into a car, hitting the road, and driving to God knows where.

     I haven’t left the living room when a gunshot rips across the silence of the house. A bullet hits my arm, and I come to an abrupt halt. It’s excruciating. It gets worse when I feel it down my spine. Before I know it, I’m on the floor, bleeding profusely.