Repetition Compulsion

42.

He got up, went to kitchen, and then brought her a glass of water, which he held up to her mouth: 

"I'm sorry I hit you", he said, his voice somber, and the closest to remorseful Sera had ever heard it sounding. "Sometimes I have a nasty temper, but I'm working on it for you. I want to be better for you."

He smiled an awkward smile. "You've grown into a fine young woman. I bet boys act the fool when they see you."

When Sera finished drinking the water,  he took the glass away from her mouth, placed it on the bedside table, and then went back to Sera's study corner, where he sat on the chair and shoved his head in between his palms. 

"I don't know what happened after I left. But you didn't kill anyone that night. No one died that night."

He turned back around and looked her dead in the eye. "That night, you were very confused, emotional, hormonal. You wanted to leave me. Obviously this wasn't right. I knew this was wrong, and I knew if you were in the right state of mind you would know this too. So, even though you were menstruating, we made love. We made love so I could convince you otherwise, so I could remind you of the fun we always had.", he smiled a cold and odd smile. 

"But, whilst you were still recovering—" he chuckled lightly "As you always do after our love making sessions, I got a brilliant idea: If our love making session couldn't convince you to stay, maybe Grace and I's absence would. So I took Grace and I left. I was convinced you would go to the ends of the earth to look us. But I guess I underestimated my community members' loyalty. I did not think the situation would get this much out of hand."

Sera felt paralyzed with fear. She couldn't believe she had lived with this man for 5 years. Hell, she couldn't believe anyone had ever thought it was a good idea to put two kids in his care. He was unhinged, deranged, a psychopath.

What shocked Sera even more was what the sheriff was implying: that she was never meant to be in a mental asylum, that he hadn't given the order for her to be placed in a mental asylum. That his community members had acted on their own free will to protect him and ruin her life. She couldn't understand how a group of people could be so cruel. How their loyalty to their sheriff could be so misguided, misplaced. 

Then, in that moment, as she was trying to process everything she had been told. Trying to get her mind to catch up to the fact that she isn't crazy and that she wasn't a murderer, that's when she saw the hooded figure standing on the corner of her bedroom door. It shocked her, threw her off, because at no point in time had she ever considered the possibility that he would come for her. She had made the message clear: They were from two different worlds, and she was not interested in taking his light and corrupting it with her darkness. She just didn't want that on her. She had made that absolutely clear by leaving. So why was he here? Why was he about to throw himself right into the deep ended abyss that was her life? No sane person would do that. Hell, she knew if she had a choice, then she wouldn't be there. So why was he? 

She closed her eyes, then opened them again a couple of times. Maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her, or her mind losing the weakest grip on reality it had left. But, as the sheriff finished talking, Sera was suddenly aware of the hooded figure moving slowly, skillfully, craft fully across her room.

Her vision was a little blurry, but she knew who it was. She just had no idea how he had gotten inside, or why he had stayed once he had figured out what was going on. All she knew was that if she let him go through with what he wanted to go through with, then they would both die, and she would never get a chance to find out if Grace was indeed still alive.

She opened her mouth to scream, but her scream was muffled by the duct tape against her lips. She felt ever so powerless, helpless, she didn't know what to do. She made muffled sounds, and jerked around to get the sheriff's attention, to warn him of the figure behind him, but he did not seem fazed. He was in his own little world.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Abimbola gesturing for her to keep quiet and be still, but how could she be? When she knew what he was about to do? When he was about to take away the flinter of hope that had just been restored to her life.

She helplessly watched Abimbola as he picked up one of her Critical Social Literature books that were stacked in a disorderly manner behind her door. Then, she watched in bewilderment as he took a few careful steps further and then hit the sheriff at the back of his head with the book.

The sheriff was clearly taken aback. But as he was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on, or what had hit him, Abimbola took a step back, balancing his weight on his left foot, and threw his right fist out in a curved punch at the sheriff's temple. Then, he brought his right forearm up to counter the blow, forming a fist with his left hand, and throwing it out at the sheriff's outstretched jaw. It was almost like he had been preparing for this particular fight his whole life. He was quick on his feet, and ready and willing to throw a punch or two every time an opportunity presented itself. 

The sheriff was so clearly and obviously in trouble. He staggered away, fighting for air, his veins popping out, and for a minute, he looked like he would blow up or throw up. But then, he straightened up and somehow managed to regain his composure.

He charged back towards Abimbola, fists flailing, clearly and desperately ready to back himself up and win. He growled with his every move, and with every step he took, the floor shook as though an earthquake where about to happen. Short as he was, the sheriff was a big man. But Abimbola was ready for him. As the sheriff charged towards him, he waited patiently. Then, as he got closer, he adjusted his stance, and extended a fist. One fast, straight punch to the sheriff's unprotected jaw was all it took to get his body crumbling down onto the floor, leaving him unconscious.

Abimbola rushed towards Sera, and immediately started uncuffing her. He didn't even hear her weak pleas, or her sad eyes. Nor did he see the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

She was happy this was over, but she knew it would only truly be over once she found Grace. Once she knew if Grace was dead or alive. Life would only ever make sense then. 

Just as he was about to loosen her arms, however,  Abimbola saw the huge spot of blood on Sera's chest. His eyes widened in disbelief, but then he quickly finished un-taping her, took off his dress shirt, and then used it to apply pressure on Sera's bleeding chest. 

"Shh", he whispered. "Shh...the ambulance and the police should be here any minute here. Just hold on. Hold on for me."