The Way My Heart Beats

Chapter 18

Clara

It has been days since I've had anything to eat. Other than the IV in my hand, I'm not receiving any other fluids. I'm weak, cold, and exhausted. I can no longer feel my arms as they have been tied above my head for 72 hours. At any moment he could hit the button that he keeps threatening me with. The one button that will end my life. The needles sit less than an inch from my neck, each containing toxic chemicals that will slowly stop my heart.

I hear the front door slam up stairs and the floor creaks with the movement. A muffled sound of a frustrated voice makes its way closer to the basement door. The door slams against the concrete wall and the old wooden steps creak and crack with the footsteps. "Stop fighting. This will be a lot easier if you cooperate. I might actually keep you alive." He says in a strangled, breathless voice.

When they come into view I can't see who is under the sack that covers the face, but because I recognize the pajama pants with a kitten design that have a hole just above the knee, I know it's Amelia. With the revelation, my breath hitches and my chest tightens. I've been through worse. I can handle being tortured and hung up to die, but Amelia is sweet and innocent. The worst thing that she's ever been through are all nighters in college. And that's okay. She doesn't deserve anything worse than that. But me, it's almost like I've built up immunity to torture and pain.

He straps her up beside me; needles, IV, and all. In one click of that little red button, both of us could slowly die. From here on out my words and actions affect more than just myself. Now, I have to be more cautious. If I fight back, we're both dead.

She whimpers as he tugs her arms tighter, further away from her body, stretching the muscles into an uncomfortable position. "Clara, see what you've made me do?" He runs his fingers across my cheek. I can feel his breath in my ear. My breathing is rapid with the sick feeling that comes over me. "If you would've done what I asked, then we wouldn't have had to involve your beloved, Amelia."

I can't form any words of defense due to the cloth in my mouth keeping me from speaking anything more than a moan.

"Amelia. You must've known. It was so obvious, but Clara would have never had me. I wasn't good enough! I was in love with her, but I wasn't enough." He said, angered.

His body flush with mine his words drip between us filled with disgust. "What does Grant have that I don't? Muscles? Is that it? If you thought that's what it takes to protect you, then clearly you're wrong. Where's he at now? Huh, Clara?"

He pulls the cloth from my mouth. "I'm so sorry. I was still too hurt from my marriage to think of anyone in that way." Confusion spread through his eyes before anger took it away.

"But suddenly, now, you are? Just like that?"

Even though I'm filled with anger, fear, and worry, I push it all aside in an attempt to plead my way, and Amelia's, out of here. "Y-yes," I stutter. "I am..ready, n-now." I try to look hopeful.

"But, of course, it's not with me. Am I right?" He says, sounding sickened once more. He turns away on his heels.

"Well," I start as he looks at me again, more hopeful this time. "It's not like Grant and I are together. I'm finally ready, Jackson. I'm ready for you." I say, even though my blood is seeping through my veins in utter revulsion at my own words. Sure, Jackson is attractive. Maybe in another life I would've given him a chance; in a life where meeting him in college as an innocent eighteen year old was my story, but I was twenty-two at the time and just sent my husband to prison for murdering my daughter and abusing me. In no way was I ready for a relationship.

When I met Grant merely a month ago I wasn't ready, and I'm still not sure I am. Grant is different, though. He makes me want to be ready to start again. That's something I hadn't expected. God. I missed him. I'd put him through hell in the month I've known him. Why did he care so much?

Jackson is face to face with me again. His fingers trailing down the side of my body. I'm trying to hold it together on the outside even though I'm cringing on the inside. "Really?" He questions me, timidly. All I can do is shake my head, yes. His eyes drop to my lips as he runs his thumb across them. He brings his mouth to mine moving it across my lips. I don't react quickly enough, and he pauses.

Okay. Regardless of my feelings towards kissing him I have  to kiss him back. It's the only way to make him believe me. I have to buy us time. His lips move against mine again. I slowly began to move mine, holding my breath hoping this doesn't last long.

My breath fizzles out between my teeth when he releases his lips from mine. "Mmm. I've been waiting on that kiss for three long years. I just never knew it'd happen with you tied up in my basement." He chuckles darkly, "that's kind of kinky!" He looks at me with a smirk. What happened to him? He was so sweet and considerate. I guess some people just snap, or you truly never know somebody. I'm closer to believing the latter considering how my marriage ended.

"You taste...sweet. Almost like strawberries." He dances around on his toes making his way to the stairs. "I like it," he laughs. When he is out of hear shot, I begin to speak to Amelia.

"Are you okay?" She shakes her head, yes. "Did he hurt you?" She shakes her head, no. "Mel, I'm gonna get us out of here, okay?" She shakes her head in understanding as a sob bursts through her body like a hiccup.

Our emotions quickly sober up when we hear Jackson coming back down the stairs. The crumpling of a potato chip bag and the sound of a pop can opening echoes against the basement walls. He winks at me before making his way to the couch in the corner of the room. He plops down into the cushions tossing his feet on the coffee table. He turns on the TV to some sitcom and immediately starts laughing ridiculously at what's being said.

I'm not sure how much time passes. Minutes, hours, and days have seemed to mold together. I'm not sure if it's night or day. My thoughts begin to drift to something less menacing than hanging from the basement ceiling beside my best friend.

I've had more hurt come my way than most. Many memories that most would consider good...and promising, have all ended in one way for me—painful.

I remember the day she was born. The light, barely visible, blonde hair matted to her head. She had sleepy, dark blue eyes. The day your baby is born should be one of the best days of your life, but I knew I couldn't keep her. I was mentally unhealthy and emotionally unstable. I was afraid. There was no way I could be a mother at that point in my life. Beautiful, newborn cries left her body as they took her away from me. I knew it was going to happen. I had chosen this path for her, but that didn't mean it would hurt less. My body shook violently from the loss I once again had to endure.

It was like life had said, "eeny, meeny, miny, moe," and picked me as it's victim. When life struck again, I was the laughing stock. Well fuck you, life. I'm done being your victim. I'm tired of being hurt. I've had enough.

My body is slumping as it wears down even more. I slowly drift off into sleep when my body reacts to the abrupt noise coming from the corner of the room. "That's funny. I don't care who you are." Jackson laughs, hysterically while clapping his hands, mocking Larry the Cable Guy on the TV.

I look over to Amelia. She's wearing down pretty fast. I had to get us out of here, but my options are practically nonexistent. I've managed to get out of just about every predicament I've been in, but this? This is impossible. The best I can do is pray Grant hasn't given up on me yet.