His Collection

FOURTEEN

Another day goes by before Lance shows up. He knew I wasn't well, Marina had probably told him I wasn't wasn't eating, or drinking water. Honestly, since finding out about Kyle, I did eat what she had brought me earlier today, but my stomach couldn't take it so I threw it all up on the wall. The smell was horrible, and the hot sun only made this shed an oven.

"Blanca, I want you out of there. I just don't want you upset with me, it was stupid of me to do...that to you, I know." He spoke while leaning his head on the door.

Rolling my eyes, I muttered to myself how he couldn't even say it. He couldn't simply say he had raped me, why couldn't he? Was it to save himself from some sort of personal shame and embarrassment?

"Forgive me, please," he sighed and waited.

I can fake this. I can pretend, I know I can, I can do it.

I tell myself to go along with it. Trying to prep my mind for whatever I'd have to put up with in the mean time, I bite my lip, then think of a plan. Like a child, I wanted to shake my head back and forth, shouting NO. But the one keeping me alive insisted I get up and sweet talk my ass out of this box.

"I already have," I lied. Lance perked up, and asked me to come closer. I did till we were only separated by the door.

"I'm sorry. You never deserved that."

"I know. But staying mad won't get me anywhere. I forgive you."

Through the cracks I saw him wet his lips, "That's true, though I was never angry with you, even while you were mad at me. When I did that to you, I suppose I only was running on adrenaline."

Trying to sound as placid, and calm as I could muster, I gave a little smile. "Yeah, well, it was nice speaking with you, Lance. I promise to eat." I took a step back so to appear I was ready to head back to my corner, but he unlocked the door.

Before my eyes could adjust to the burst of sun, I felt his hand take my arm, and the other wrap itself around my waist, gently pulling me out. My first instinct was to fight his touch, but a voice shushed the urge away, reminding me what I had to do.

Fake it till you make it...out.

My head rested on his chest as I clung to his shirt.

"Don't be afraid." He whispered in my ear, "I'll never give you another reason to fear me, promise."

I loosened my grip, and hesitated to cock my head up to stare into his eyes, but did so to try and show I wasn't drenched in fear. His face covered the sun from my eyes; it seemed almost as if he had a halo glowing around those sandy blond locks of his.

How could this had ever been a monster? No, not been, IS, is a monster.

He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out why I was spell bound into silence again. "Blanca?" he asked.

"Sorry, I-I am not used to all these colors. It's bright out here," I say while bowing my head once more.

"Right, I'm sorry. I almost forgot you have been in there a little over a week."

Five days, you prick.

He lifts my entire body up, and I shut my eyes to block out all the neon colors spinning around me. Part of me wanted to start crying, but as my mother used to say, "that got you nothing but a pause in the race, keep going."

He sat me down in the living room, which was as cozy as any other, covered in photographs, nick nacks, and paintings. Near the windows there were dozens of leafy plants sprouting out to catch some rays.

Before sitting fully upward, Marina walked in holding ribbons, and paused at the sight of Lance inspecting my wounds. He had my hand in his, while the other was rested over my forehead.

"Why is she out?" Marina asked with a scowl.

"Go bring the bath bag, she needs to bathe, Alice." He ordered, then helped me sit up. Without even caring if Marina had left or not, he looked right back at me as if I were a star plucked from the sky. "We'll leave in a bit, once you get used to the sun again."

"Thank you," I mutter shyly. I wish it was part of the act, but with him being this close, my insecurities couldn't help but show. My ears had begun to burn from the scent of him: sweat, flowers, and grass.

"I'll be back. You can go anywhere around the house. Just not upstairs. I don't want you in the Bad Box again," he said, but didn't like how that came out, so he tried again. "There's nothing you'd be interested in up there, so just stick to the first floor, Blanca, all right?"

Nodding at him, I then looked away to the plants. Not sure if he could leave, he stood still a couple of seconds before walking off to wherever Marina had gone, probably to stop her childish rants about me and the shard I took.

Standing up, I take a look at the pictures all lined up across the walls. They were old, and faded, but not completely ancient. At least they're colored pictures, black and white always did give off an eerie tone.

I stopped at the one that held Lance as a toddler. He was something to look at even back then, as odd as his skin was, it made him beautiful; a living floral pattern almost. The thought of me agreeing to that statement made me want to slap my brain till it stung with common sense and reason. Focusing on the next picture, I saw what had to be his mother and father before having Lance. Both were in their early twenties, and were well dressed in formal attire, not something you see much in a state of farmers and hunters. Then again, Lance didn't sound like he was from here, chances were his parents weren't either.

Placing a finger on the photograph of his father, I took in the resemblance. Sure, Lance had his unique skin, but other than that, Lance had his father's looks, and a little of his mother's. She was a dark haired woman, with eyes to compliment it; complete opposite of Lance.

I remember Marina mentioning the he kept his mother in the barn, dead of course. But where was his father?

The sound of foot steps came from the hall and I didn't bother to sit back down. I just hugged myself, and stood still having my eyes round themselves as if I had been waiting just for him.

Play it off coolly.

"All right, everything is ready. It's not much of a trip, I'm sure you'll enjoy the walk there," he said while Marina slouched over his towering body. She must had weaseled her way into getting a piggy-back ride;  her arms were over his chest, possessively, and she rested her head on his shoulder while he kept his arms at her legs. Marina had a backpack on, and I asked if she would like me to carry it, but ignored my question.

Lance answered instead. "For now, try not to strain yourself. We both can manage. If you feel like you're tired, let me know. I'll make it easier for you." I caught on to the rest; he was willing to carry me back and forth if I wanted. Marina must had noticed what he had meant also, and quickly shot me a glare to not even dare say my legs ached. This girl, how long is she going to stay mad?