Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Two

My skull throbs against the wooden pillar attached to the small porch, the entranceway to our own private hideaway. My eyes continue to open and close, although, with every blink, my eyelids become heavier and heavier. They peel apart whenever there is a noise, and scan the deep forest that is only now beginning to come to life. There is no sun, the autumn drizzle now seizing control of every day. Normally, I love the rain so much more than the sun.

However, right now, my pajamas are still damp, and there is a permanent chill that won't seem to go away. I should go inside, yet I feel safer guarding the door. If I'm here, there's no chance of someone breaking in while I sleep. I'm determined to wait up for Giovanni.

Sitting in my own thoughts, I'm able to count up the hours that I've been awake.

Thirty-two. Thirty-two hours without any sleep. Not for lack of trying. Every time I set my head down on a pillow, I'm overwhelmed by the stamina of my brain. I can't seem to shut it off, probably because there isn't enough time in my day to get to everything.

Between work, which responsibility has heightened considerably, and Norman, who is rapidly deteriorating, now needing to walk with a cane to get around because his balance is shot, the failure of finding something worthy to get Dixon off my back, the absence of Giovanni, knowing at any moment of any day that we could make a mistake and all of this could blow up in our faces—and the baby, to which I've forced myself to think little of.

The only time I allow myself to acknowledge the fact is when I'm reaching for alcohol and have to stop myself or when my phone lights up, indicating the doctor's office has called again to schedule my first appointment. Even when I'm vomiting, a result of morning sickness, my mind seems to erase the reason, wiping my brain to a blank canvas. Other than that, I've put the thought out of my mind.

And I know why I never think of it. It all comes down to the day I found out. I'm terrified to experience what I did in that room again. I can handle everything else. Yes, I'll lose sleep; I'll chew my bottom lip until it's swollen. But I won't break down.

I can't afford to break down.

But then, I know I can't deny this forever. At some point, I have to bring myself to accept this, as much as it frightens me to do so.

Catching movement in the sky, my head tilts up to find a hawk flying above the tree line, soaring. As I watch night become day and the darkness drift into a lighter stormy haze against the leaves of the trees, the puddles on the unevenly paved driveway, my eyelids begin to drift closed despite myself.

As if no time had passed at all, I resurface at the feel of hands. I'm too tired to be afraid, and besides, the touch is too gentle to be malicious. They scoop me up in a bridal carry and into a hard chest. With a tilt of my head, I force my eyelids apart, blinking repeatedly to fight the drowsiness that's consumed me.

I peer up at Giovanni with a smile, but that immediately fades. It's not Giovanni carrying me into the house, but Dixon. His blond hair gleams, his smile extended wide on his face as he looks down at me. I can't speak, or scream, or cry. Initially paralyzed by fear, I squirm out of his grip, slamming my hands into his chest, watching his brows furrow in confusion.

"Stop, Scarlett."

His grip finally loosens at my pushes, and I squirm out enough to drop to the floor. Knees scraping against the chipped porch, I shove myself into the side of the building and bring my knees to my chest, too terrified to speak. I re-open my eyes, glancing up through my straggly hair and immediately freeze.

Giovanni is staring down at me in the same place Dixon was, eyes round with disbelief.

Oh, shit. I close my eyes, letting out my breath. Oh, shit.