Every Breath You Take (25 page)

“Nat, why are you—” he popped his eyes open before she could hide the phone behind her back. He jumped out of bed and leapt for her as she tried to run into the bathroom and close the door. She yelped as he pulled at her fingers, but she held tight to the phone. Her salvation.

“Stop it, stop it,” she panted. “Just let me go, Joey, I won’t say anything.”

He wrestled her to the floor, and they writhed around until she rammed her head against the toilet. Natalie felt her grip on the phone loosen a little, but she quickly regained her grasp as they continued to wriggle across the cold tile. He pinned her shoulder down and slammed it repeatedly into the floor. She screamed before he slapped her and wrenched her wrist, causing the phone to slip from her hand and onto the floor. Natalie scrambled for it, but he was too quick. She lunged for him again, but he smacked her back and she fell against the wall, slumping down to the floor.

“You lying bitch,” he hissed. “You think you can play me for a fool, huh? You think you’re smarter than me, Miss
Pee-no Gree-gee-oh?
All these goddang airs. You think you can put one over on me? Huh? Huh?”

“Joey, I just wanted to make a call—”

“Who you think you’re calling, huh? Who?”

“My friends, I just, I miss them and—”

He clamped his hand against her cheeks, squeezing her like a nutcracker. “I’m your friends. I’m your family, you got that? You got that?” he screamed as he forced her head to bob up and down in agreement. He threw her head back against the wall, and tears welled in her eyes. He stared down at her, stroking his erect penis.

“You owe me, now, Nat.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Joey, please, let’s just forget any of this happened.”

“Uh uh. I ain’t forgettin’ nothing. And I want to be paid. Now.”

He waved his penis in her face. Natalie swung her head from side to side, her eyes wild. “No, no, I’m not doing that. No. Get away from me.” She tried to scramble away but was trapped between the toilet and the bathtub. He batted her nose and mouth with the glistening tip. She moaned and tried to push it away, but he was too strong and too fast. He pushed his way in and started to pump into her.

“Come on, Nat. I know you know what to do,” he whispered. “I’m waiting to be paid.”

She closed her eyes, allowing her hand to snake across his scrotum.

She bit.

She squeezed.

He screamed.

He tried to pull away, but she clamped down with everything she had. Her anger. Her fear. Her disgust.

Natalie unclenched her jaw and he fell backward in a writhing, pitiful, piercing howl that gave way to a rumbling moan. She collapsed against the toilet, exhausted but triumphant. Joey continued to thrash like a fish out of water.

“You bitch,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you did that.”

She looked over to see the phone on the bathroom counter and reached over to snatch it. He shot one hand out and grabbed her wrist, twisting it again. She fell to the floor as he leveraged her weight to raise himself up, grabbing the phone as he let her sink back down. He stooped over and backed out of the bathroom, keeping his eyes trained on her.

“I hope it was worth it, Nat,” he said as he edged out of the bedroom. “I hope it was worth it.”

S
he stroked the door.

How many days had it been?

“Joey, please, please, I’m so hungry, please, I’m sorry, I said I was sorry,” she whispered, her throat raw from screaming for him to come in and feed her, her hands and arms burning from pounding on the door. “I didn’t mean it, please, please. . .” Natalie’s eyes drooped into drowsy slits as she laid her head against the door. She’d been crouched on the floor, cradling the door for so long, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move when he did come back.

If he did.

The nights of freedom from his constant assaults had been little-enjoyed due to the unbearable hunger. She tried sleeping to trick her body into ignoring the angry, insistent rumbles, but it only worked for a few hours. She paced, but that, too, was only useful for so long. She tried screaming for Joey, though she knew the room was soundproof. Still, she had to do something to at least feel as though she was taking action, even if it was futile.

Natalie held her stomach, trying to not think about her baby suffering inside of her.
Because
of her. So much was going wrong right now. She shouldn’t have bit him. She had a baby to take care of. That had to trump her rage at Joey. She had to be smarter than this.

She had to protect her baby.

Natalie resumed stroking the door and closed her eyes. “Do whatever you want to me, but save my baby. Please. She’s all I have left of Jason. She’s everything. I won’t do anything else to make him mad, I swear. Whatever sick, disgusting, perverted things he wants to do to me, I’ll do them. Just save my baby, please. Save her.”

She waited for some sign, for Joey to come bursting through the door bearing a bowl of slimy oatmeal or crinkly, burnt bacon or bitter cranberry juice.

She kept waiting.

J
oey sucked in his breath as he peeled back the damp gauze to examine the puncture wounds sunk deep into his skin. He shook his head before taking a deep inhale and dumping the remaining half of the peroxide bottle over the gaping, purple holes, screaming and writhing as he did so. He squirmed as he waited for the bubbling and tingling to stop. He gingerly patted the gashes with cotton balls, whimpering as he wound a clean sheet of gauze around the injury, securing it with a thick band of surgical tape.

He was, as his daddy used to say, thinking with the wrong damned head. He didn’t think for a second she’d bite down on him like that. Everything had been going so well these past few weeks. He loved feeding her, loved talking to her, loved their quiet time watching movies together. And so did she—he knew in his heart she did. She loved spending time with him. He knew she did. After all, she smiled all the time. Heaped praise on him for everything he’d done for her. She was happy. He could see it in her eyes—he made her
happy
.

Why was she back to fighting him? What the hell was wrong with her? Damn crazy, that’s what. And he was the one they locked up for seven years.

He’d been hobbling around for the past few days, unable to do much but change the dressing and huddle on the bed, subsisting on toast and orange juice. He knew she was hungry, but right now, he didn’t care. Good. Good that she was in there suffering. He was suffering, too. He’d leave her in there for another day, maybe two. Then she’d start acting right.

And if she still hadn’t learned . . . well, he had all kinds of lessons to teach her.

N
atalie gasped from the corner when she heard the beeping of the door and saw Joey’s face. She looked down hoping to see a tray of food, but his hands were empty. He limped in without looking at her, reaching underneath the bed to uncoil the hefty silver chain.

“No, please, don’t—”

He clamped the shackle around her wrist and made a beeline for the dresser where she kept the pictures and mementos from her parents he’d given her. He scooped them up and turned to hobble back out of the room. Natalie leapt toward him, the bulky links snapping her back, already digging into her wrist bones.

“No, Joey, please, please, don’t take them. Please.”

He stared down at her, his eyes flat and cold. “What’s it worth to you, Nat?”

“I’ll . . . I’ll do anything you want, anything at all. Just please, please let me eat, please let me. . .” she swallowed. “Please let me keep my parents’ things. I swear, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll wear what you want, I’ll do anything, just please, I’m so hungry. So hungry. . .”

He kept looking at her while she peered up at him, trying to show she was as sincere and, frankly, desperate as she felt. He finally flicked one aged photo in her direction. It floated just out of her reach, the pointy corner she couldn’t quite grasp mocking her fingertip.

“Well, you can look at it anyway,” he laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Joey, it’s okay. I can look at it. Thank you. Thank you for this.”

“You want the rest, you’ll have to earn them back.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. I know, I have to earn your trust.”

“Hmm,” he nodded in agreement. “Yes, you will. You sure will.”

“I’m sorry, Joey, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please, please forgive me, please let me eat. Please.”

“So you’re hungry, huh?”

“Oh, yes, Joey, I am. I’m so hungry. I’ll eat anything.”

He nodded again, this time slower, as though her revelation that she was starving was some new nugget of information he hadn’t previously considered. “Okay,” he said, suddenly brightening. “I’ll bring you some food. What would you like?”

“Whatever you want, Joey. Anything at all.”

“As long as there’s no peanuts in it, right?” he said before bursting into laughter. He wiped a tear from his eyes. “Oh man, that was a bad joke. Sorry. Sorry. See, Nat? I can make jokes.”

She looked at him uncertainly before offering her own nervous chuckle. “Yes, Joey, you’re so funny. You’ve always made me laugh.”

“Uh huh. Okay, I’m gonna go and get you some food. Don’t go anywhere,” he laughed again as he ducked out of the room. He came back in balancing a tray of chicken, salad, and a piece of what looked to be blueberry pie. She strained against the chain, wishing she could wrest the precious food away from him. She forced herself to sit obediently on the floor while he made a big show of sawing the dry strands of chicken into tiny pieces with the plastic fork and knife and tossing the limp leaves of lettuce in the plastic bowl. He looked at her for a few moments before pelting her with a grape tomato, nicking her in the eye. She yelped as he began to hurl leaves of lettuce, cucumber triangles, chicken skin, and crumbles of pie crust at her. Food rained down on her like a storm, his laughter thundering above Natalie as she tried to shelter herself, trapped by the hulking chain.

He finished and threw the plastic plate and tray at her. She ducked to the side to avoid being struck in the face. Pie crust crumbs dotted her shirt and chicken bones had found their way into her bra. Lettuce leaves hung from her hair like Christmas tree ornaments.

“Have a nice lunch,” he said as he wiped his hands and strolled out of the room.

It was the sound of breaking glass that woke her up.

The tinkling of the glass as it shattered sounded like the frothy plinking of piano keys. At first, of course, as she hovered in that gauzy neverland between sleep and reality, she thought she must have been dreaming. There wouldn’t be any reason to break into this derelict off-campus apartment with the milk crates for tables and chairs and the scratchy orange and brown plaid couch rescued from the dumpster. The only thing a thief might possibly derive any sort of satisfaction from were the innumerable boxes of Cap’n Crunch cereal.

She shook it off, letting herself be lulled once more into the blitheness of her dreams as she rolled over into Dennis’ back. She was drifting back into dreamland when she heard it once more. The unmistakable chimes of splintering glass.

And then she shot straight up in bed, realizing too late she’d let her guard down.

The heavy, wheezing echo of his breath sauntered into the room before he did. He stood at the foot of the bed, the spare tire of fat around his midsection jiggling like Jell-O, the hefty turkey legs of his thighs pressing awkwardly against each other, the sloped curve of his shoulders bunching toward his chest. He was shaking. And crying.

And bleeding.

The long trails of blood glistened against his skin in the sliver of moonlight streaming through the cheap plastic blinds hanging across the dirty windows. Had he put his fist through the living room window?

Dennis didn’t understand what was happening; he instinctively threw his arm across her and told Joey to take his wallet out of his jeans crumpled in the corner. They didn’t want any trouble.

Joey. Laughing. Crying. Screaming. Raging. Vines of angry spit soaring out of his mouth as he slashed the darkness with a long, thick knife. Dennis. Nervous and confused by this stranger’s maniacal ranting, the slow realization that she’d kept this part of her life a well-guarded secret. Natalie. Trembling and terrified out of her mind, wondering if this unlikeliest of trios would make it to the fragile light of day.

Joey. Begging her one more time to come home with him where she belonged.

Natalie. Shaking her head and pleading with him to leave them alone, promising this would stay a secret.

Joey. Claiming there was no choice, pushing the sharp, shiny tip of the knife into his jowly flesh, a thread of blood trickling down his neck. Natalie and Dennis both reaching for him as he drew a smiley face across the ridges of his neck, droplets of blood sliding into the neck of his t-shirt. Whispering she could make this stop. Angered by her inertia, leveling the blade against the lacy blue-green veins of his wrist, pushing the point inside, forcing a spurt of shiny crimson to jump into the air.

Dennis. Feeling brave enough to make a move, lunged for Joey.

Which was exactly what Joey wanted.

Joey and Dennis writhing around on the floor. Dennis’ wiriness ultimately no match for Joey’s heft as the knife grabbed hold of Dennis’ flesh and took a long, jagged jog down the length of his thigh.

Natalie. Trying to leap out of bed to help Dennis but being stopped by Joey, who locked his arms around her waist and dragged her to the front door, ignoring the blows of her feet against his shins, blocking out her piercing screams.

Dennis. Rocking himself to his feet and limping behind them, a long trail of blood arcing across the faded blue jogging pants. Tackling Joey from behind and locking his arms around his neck.

Joey. Stunned. Dropping Natalie as he writhed around trying to free himself from Dennis’ grasp.