Trapped In Time

Chapter 10: Uncovered

Keith gets us checked into the hotel as I unload our couple bags from the car. The lobby is ornately decorated and dimly lit, giving it a romantic feel. We get into the elevator and press the button numbered '4'. It is one of those elevators with the glass walls, so you can see the hotel as you ride up.

Keith leads the way to room 413, and picks me up before unlocking the door. I laugh uncontrollably as he carries me across the threshold. "Only the best for my love. I'll do the same for you when we get married."

I'm a little taken aback, but I just laugh, "What put that idea in your head?"

He doesn't bother to answer, just kissed me deeply. As good as it feels, his arms have to be hurting. I pull away, and he sets me down.

He gestures to a bottle of champagne sitting on the little nightstand, "Shall we?"

I accept the glass he pours me, taking a big gulp. I don't particularly like the taste, but I drink it anyway. Though I'm technically underage, a glass or two won't hurt, right? It's not like I haven't drank before, but it was just beer. This is different; a little heavier. I feel slightly dizzy, when was the last time I ate?

Keith coaxes me onto the bed, and wraps his arms around me. I admire his chiseled jaw and slight stubble. He begins to trace little circles on my hip, and I smile up at him, "So do you really think we'll get married?" I ask.

He stares at the wall, "I don't know about you, but I can't imagine being with anyone else. I have no desire to be. Sure we're young, but that doesn't make us any less in love does it?"

I lock my eyes with his, "I guess it doesn't."

"I want us to have a future Macen, can we agree to that?" He looks almost pleading.

I pick up our glasses of champagne. They're nearly empty, so I refill them. After handing Keith one, I raise mine, "To our future." The glasses clink and we down them.

Before I can think twice, our arms are around each other. Keith lifts up the hem of my shirt; when I don't stop him, he tears it off. His hands move to my back and he effortlessly unhooks my bra. I grab his shirt, pulling it over his head. We're making out and I'm running my hands over his muscular chest. As he begins to tug my leggings down, my hands pass a bump near his heart that draws my attention. There is a deep red-colored scar; round and kind of soft. I don't know if it's the champagne, but I get a head-spinning feeling of déjà vu. My head hurts and my stomach is in knots. A little voice whispers in my mind, "He has this scar by his heart, crimson red, like a strawberry mark. There was something kind of beautiful about it."

Those words, I know where they're from! My mom wrote them in her diary...holy shit. A dozen scenes play back in my head, the same hotel, a handsome man, me working for him, us falling in love, it's the same story with minor variations. The way he talked, like he was in an old movie. How he was so ready to hire me, when he barely knew me. The night he told his friends that I was special; I'd never realized just how "special". This whole thing was a sick trap to lead me back to him. Hell, my mom described him in her diary and I didn't see it! In fact he was probably the reason I even had the diary! Renée's Angelo, my Keith. Is it possible? How could I be so stupid! I don't know how, but somehow Keith and Angelo are the same person. Does he not age? Maybe some disease that makes him look young?

I am frozen. I hear Keith - or Angelo - trying to talk to me. It's like I'm underwater. My stomach lurches; I want to throw up. But that means...no, no, NO! I can barely bring my self to realize the horrible, disgusting truth. I am hopelessly, desperately in love with my...father! A father that killed my own mother no less!

I can't breathe; I push Keith - Angelo - away from me. Grabbing my shirt, I cover my chest and flee to the bathroom. I slam the door behind me, and ignore Keith's protests. My sight is blurry, and the bathroom spins around me. I have got to stop thinking of him as Keith, he's Angelo.

It makes no sense, but I know it's true. The man on the other side of this thin wall, a man that I was about to have sex with, is my father. I collapse to the floor, fearing I might black out. How could I have been in love with him this whole time? How did I not realize it. The thought makes me sick.

I vomit into the toilet; partially because of alcohol, and partially because of my disgust. I'm not sure what to do, should I call the police? Is what Kei-Angelo did a crime? Somehow that doesn't seem like my best plan; besides my phone is in the other room.

Angelo knocks gently on the door. I get up slowly; my shirt still clutched to my chest. As I open the door and reveal his face, I want to scream or throw up again. I bite my tongue and shakily say, "I'm sorry, I don't feel good. I must-"

"It's okay Macen," he places his hand on my arm, and I fight the urge to jerk away. "You aren't ready. I shouldn't have pushed you."

This little shit! Thinking I'm not ready for sex, when that's hardly the issue. Really I'm just afraid of this disturbing pervert that is my father. I desperately want to tell him what I know, just to get that concerned look of his face. I almost blurt it out, but I stop myself. I need to be smart about this.

If Angelo finds out that I know, he could kill me; like he did to my mother. As hard as it is, I have to play along. Continue to be the clueless girlfriend who adores him. I have to go with what he said; let him think that I just wasn't ready. Taking a deep breath, I move away from him. I hang my head, "I thought I was ready, I guess not." I look up at him, ashamed.

"It's okay," he wraps me in an embrace.

I freeze, my bare back exposed.

"What's wrong?" he questions.

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm just tired, I think I'll go to bed."

To my surprise, he lets me. I gather up my things and go back into the bathroom. After putting in a big t-shirt, I brush my teeth; attempting to rid my mouth of the taste of vomit. I'm about to leave the bathroom, but I'm not ready to go back out there. I decide to take a shower, and pull my t-shirt off over my head.

The water is cold when I step in, and my breath gets caught in my chest. When it finally heats up, all the resolve left in me collapses. I let out a small whimper, then quickly bite my tongue. The tears roll down my cheeks, and the hot water beats down on my back. I cry silently, so he doesn't hear. I'm so scared, so alone.

Eventually I calm down enough to get out of the shower. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail, not bothering to brush it. Taking a deep breath, I exit the bathroom.

Angelo is laying on the bed next to the window, reading a hardcover book. The jacket has been removed, and the cover is just black. When he sees me, he gives me a small smile.

"I think that I-I'll sleep h-here tonight," I stutter and point to the other bed.

"Sure love."

I grit my teeth and walk towards the bed. As soon as I am under the covers, Keith turns off the light.

"Sleep tight," he whispers, his voice snaking through the darkness.

I shiver and squeeze my eyes shut.

Angelo's breathing becomes even within five minutes. I however can't fall asleep. I can physically feel the exhaustion in my body, yet I'm wide awake. I toss and turn all night, drifting in and out of sleep. This must be what they mean when they say "sleeping with one eye open".

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