Читать книгу Precious And Fragile Things - Меган Харт - Страница 11

Todd walked in the door just as Gilly finished setting the table with a red-and-white-checkered cloth and a set of lovely, Depression-era dishes and silverware she’d found in the drawer. Though the silver was tarnished and several of the plates cracked or chipped, she could only imagine what pieces like this would sell for in an antiques shop. Hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars. He paused in the doorway to sniff the air. Again, he reminded her of a hungry, loveless dog hanging around the kitchen door.

“Smells good.” He jingled the pocket of his sweatshirt, then took out her keys. He tossed them on the counter.

Gilly purposefully kept her eyes from them. “I hope you’re hungry,” she said flatly. “I made a lot.”

Todd pulled out his chair with a scrape that sent chills up her spine, like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Fucking starving.”

Gilly poured the spaghetti into the strainer she’d put in the sink. Clouds of steam billowed into her face and she closed her eyes against it. She scooped some onto a plate and went to the table, taking the seat across from him.

Todd didn’t serve himself, just stared at her expectantly. With a silent sigh she got up from her seat and took his plate to the sink, plopped a serving of spaghetti on top and splashed it with the sauce. She tossed a piece of garlic bread beside the spaghetti and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” At least he did have some manners.

They ate in silence interrupted only by the sounds of chewing and slurping. Surreptitiously Gilly watched the movement of his mouth as he gobbled pasta. A few days’ worth of beard stubbled his tawny cheeks, the dark hairs glinting reddish in the light from above.

“This is good.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin she’d folded next to his plate. “Really good.”

“Thank you.” Cleaning had made her hungry. She’d polished off a large plateful herself and now sat back, her stomach almost too full.

Todd burped loud and long, the kind of noise that at home would have earned a laugh followed by a reprimand. Gilly did neither. She sipped some water, watching him.

“Where did you go?”

“Out.”

She hadn’t really expected him to tell her. She sipped more water and wiped her mouth. Todd eyed her, his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed.

“Why’d you do this?” Todd twirled another forkful of spaghetti but didn’t eat it.

“To be nice,” Gilly said. There was more to it than that.

Todd’s eyes narrowed. He knew that. “Why?”

Only honesty would suffice. Gilly took a deep breath. “Because I’m hoping that if I’m nice to you, you’ll let me go home.”

Todd sat back in his chair, tipping it. “I can’t. You know my name. You know where we are. You’d tell someone. They’d come.”

Desperation slipped out in her voice. “I don’t know where we are, remember? You could blindfold me. Take me someplace far away, dump me off.”

Todd shook his head.

Her voice rose with tension. “I won’t tell anyone your name. Or anything. I’ll say I don’t know anything, I swear to you. If you let me go, I’ll…”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t ever let you go now. Not ever.” His hands clutched the tabletop. His face twisted in loathing. “Don’t you get it?”

“No! I don’t! You don’t want me here, so just…” Her voice broke, softened, slipped into a murmur. “Please, Todd. Please.”

Again, he shook his head. His voice got lower, too. “You say you won’t tell them anything, but even if you mean it, I know you will. You’ll have to. They’ll keep at you and keep at you. It’s what they fucking do, Gilly.”

“Who?”

“Them. The cops. Your therapist. Your fucking husband, I don’t know. Someone will want to know where the fuck you were, and with who, and you can’t tell me you won’t break down and tell them. You’ll spill it all, and I’ll be totally fucked. And I’ll tell you something,” Todd said, voice lower still, his body stiff and tense, “I won’t go back to jail.”

Gilly wasn’t surprised Todd had been to jail. He must’ve seen the lack of shock in her expression, because he looked first ashamed, then defiant. He lifted his chin at her.

“I mean it. Not going back. Ever. I can’t.”

“You should’ve thought of that before,” Gilly said under her breath but loud enough for him to hear her.

“You think I fucking didn’t?”

Gilly shrugged. “I don’t know what you thought. But you have to see that no matter what happens, you’re going to get caught, Todd. Whether you let me go or I get away.”

He studied her, dark eyes pulling her apart and leaving big gaps in the seams of her composure.

“No. I’ll do…whatever I have to.” The words were clipped and tight, his expression hard.

Gilly had thought the same. Whatever she had to, to survive. To get away from here and back to her family. If Todd was as desperate as she was—but she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Couldn’t let herself be afraid.

Time spun out as they stared each other down. From the corner of her eye, Gilly spotted a glint of metal on the counter beside them. Though she tried not to let her eyes flicker, something in her gaze must have given her away. She saw it in his eyes, the sudden wariness that showed he knew what she was thinking.

Todd launched himself across the table as Gilly pushed back in her chair so hard it toppled to the floor. His fingers, not clenched now but stretched into grappling talons, scratched at her neck but didn’t gain purchase.

Gilly would’ve hit the floor if the wall hadn’t been so close behind her. Instead, she cracked the back of her head hard enough to see stars. She rolled along the short length of wall until she reached the opening to the living room. Her feet twisted on themselves and she almost fell, but her hand, grasping, found the edge of the counter, and she stayed upright. Her fingers clenched over the bundle of keys.

Todd moved fast, with swift, athletic grace, but Gilly had the thoughts of her children to fuel her. She turned, swiftly, as he grabbed at her. Keys bristled between her knuckles, and she sliced at him, hard. The metal slashed his cheek. He clapped a hand over the wound, which gushed bright blood.

He caught her just inside the living room and knocked her feet out from under her. Gilly hit the floor on her hands and knees, the keys still gripped tight in her fist. With a low growl, Todd grabbed her ankles and yanked her closer, scrabbling at the back of her shirt but not quite able to catch her.

Gilly rolled, kicking, as he loomed over her. Todd’s eyes glittered, fierce, the blood on his face like war paint. He grabbed the front of her shirt, tearing it.

She kicked him in the nuts. Her foot didn’t connect squarely, hitting part of his thigh, but it was enough. Todd went to his knees with a strangled groan.

Gilly got up and ran.

Adrenaline exhilarated her. She flew to the front door and leaped through it, leaving it hanging open. She’d misjudged the stairs and the icy ground beyond, and so went sprawling onto her hands and knees. Rocks tore her pants and her skin. She didn’t drop the keys even though the sharp metal sliced her.

Gilly got up, palms bloodied, and ran for the truck. She heard Todd shouting and cursing on the porch behind her. She didn’t stop to look around.

The lightly falling snow had turned into thick, soft blankets of white, hiding the treacherous ice beneath. Gilly slid but kept herself from falling this time. She hit the driver’s side full on, hard enough to send spikes of agony into her shoulder and dent the door. The keys scratched the paint like four claws as she grabbed the door handle to keep from falling. He’d locked it. Her numb fingers fumbled with the key-ring remote.

“Don’t do this!” Todd cried from the porch. A sudden gust of wind tore his words to tatters.

Gilly ripped open the door and pulled herself into the driver’s seat. Her palms stung as she gripped the wheel and plunged the keys into the ignition. She had to do this now, because she hadn’t before. Because she’d been crazy before, crazy stupid. She’d let this man drive her away from her home, her husband, her children.

The Suburban roared into life. Gilly kept her foot steady on the accelerator. Her right knee, already bruised from when he’d hit her there before, had taken the worst of her fall and now throbbed with every motion. Blood slicked her palms and her hands slipped until she forced her frozen fingers to curl. She yanked the gearshift into Reverse and the truck revved backward, narrowly missing the tree that loomed in her rearview mirror.

Drive.

Her wet feet slipped on the gas pedal and light from the headlights swung wildly as she forced the truck through the snow. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so deep. The vehicle slid a little, bouncing in the ruts when she jammed the gas pedal.

Her heart hammered. Everything in front of her was black, and the headlights weren’t helping much. She tried to remember how long this road was, where it turned, how far to the gate, and couldn’t. All she could do was drive.

On her left, the mountain. On the right of the narrow, ice-slick road, a steep incline. A line of trees reared up in front of her as the road bent. Gilly braked, forgetting in her panic everything she’d ever learned about driving. The truck went into a long, slow slide. It seemed impossible she’d actually hit the tree row, not in slow motion.

Her mind was in slow motion. Her reactions. too. But not the truck. It mowed down the trees with a vast and angry crashing that pounded Gilly’s ears. The big vehicle tilted, throwing her against the door, and slammed back to the ground with a thud that jarred her to the bone. She had time to think she was going to be okay before she looked out the side window and saw the side of the mountain reaching for her.

The Suburban veered into the wall of rock. Metal screeched. Gilly, not wearing a seat belt, was flung forward into the steering wheel hard enough to knock the breath out of her. It didn’t end there—the truck shuddered and groaned, sliding on ice and snow.

She was going over.

Gilly had no breath to scream. She did have time to pray, but nothing came but the sight of her children’s faces. That was prayer enough.

The Suburban jolted off the road and over the edge, nearly vertical at first and then with a huge, thumping slam, it came to rest with the hood crumpled against a tree. The airbag didn’t even go off, something she only noticed when she could see, very clearly, the bent and broken trees barely managing to keep the truck from sliding down the mountain. The horn bleated and died. The interior lights had come on and the pinging noise signifying an open door sounded although all the doors were closed.

Everything blurred. She tasted blood. Warmth coated her lap and dimly, Gilly was embarrassed to think she might’ve wet herself. It wasn’t urine but more blood gushing from a slice in the top of her thigh. She groaned, the sound of her voice too loud.

The door opened. Gilly screamed, then, thin and whistling but with as much force as she could muster. In the next minute Todd yanked her from the driver’s seat, shoving her against the metal. Gilly swung and missed.

“Let me go!”

“You crazy dumb bitch! The fuck you think you’re doing?” Todd shook her.

Beside them, the truck groaned. The trees snapped. The metal behind her back shifted and moved, and Todd yanked her a few steps toward him. Gilly fought him but couldn’t get free.

Nothing seemed real. The pain in every part of her wasn’t as bad as knowing she’d tried and failed to escape. She fought him with teeth and the talons of fingernails Arwen had painted pale blue only yesterday.

Todd dodged her swinging fists and her teeth. He slapped her face, first with his palm. Then, when she didn’t stop flailing at him, with the back of his hand so hard her head rocked back. Gilly fell into the snowy brush and was instantly soaked. Red roses bloomed in front of her eyes.

“You dumb bitch,” Todd said again, this time into her ear. He’d lifted her though she was suddenly as limp as a rag doll.

He’d hit her. Nobody had hit her that way in a very long time. Blood dripped from her mouth, though everything was so shadowed she couldn’t see it hit the snow.

Todd’s fingers dug into her arms as he jerked her upright and shook her. Everything was dark and cold around them, and the sound of creaking branches was very loud. The lights from the truck abruptly dimmed.

“Wake up. I can’t get your ass up this hill if you’re deadweight.”

Gilly blinked and struggled feebly. “Don’t…hit me…again.”

“I don’t want to hit you, for fuck’s sake.” Todd sounded disgusted. “Just get your ass moving. What happens if that tree won’t hold, huh? You want to get wiped out by that truck when it goes crashing down the rest of this hill? Look up there, how fucking far we have to get back up to the lane!”

Gilly didn’t look. She couldn’t, really. Turning her head made bright, sharp pain stab through her. Besides, it was too dark. The headlights were pointing the other way, down the steep slope, and as she watched they guttered and went out, followed an instant later by the ding-ding alert of the interior light cutting off.

“Ah, fuck,” Todd muttered in the sudden silence. “Just stay still. Don’t move.”

As if she could’ve moved. Gilly, limp, went to her knees when Todd let her go. The snow was soft and thick but not deep enough to cradle her. Rocks and bits of broken branches stabbed at her.

“All right. Let’s go. Get up. I can see,” Todd said, and jerked her by the back of her collar.

Gilly couldn’t. Everything was still black. She scrabbled along the slope with Todd yanking her hard enough to pull her off her feet a few times.

This was a nightmare. It had to be. Right? Pain and darkness and fear.

They got to the top of the slope and Todd paused, breathing hard. Now instead of rocks and broken trees, gravel bit into Gilly’s skin as she went to her hands and knees. It was easier to get to her feet, though, when Todd yanked the back of her collar again.

Somehow they made it back to the clearing and the cabin, still ablaze with light that hurt her eyes after so many long minutes in darkness. Gilly was beyond fighting him by then. She barely made it up the front steps and into the living room. She definitely didn’t make it up the steep, narrow stairs to the second floor. Todd, cursing and muttering, did that by yanking and pushing her.

With rough hands he forced her toward the bed she’d slept in. When he tried to take off her shirt, Gilly found the strength to fight him again. Todd shouted out another slew of curses.

“Stop fighting me!”

But she would not. If this was a nightmare, she was going to keep swinging and scratching, even though every movement made her cry in pain. Todd, finally, ripped her shirt completely down the front, pushed her onto the bed and yanked at her pants, too.

Gilly kicked out as hard as she could. Maybe Todd dodged it, maybe she missed. She couldn’t tell. All she knew was he grabbed her by the upper arms, fingers digging deep into her flesh, to yank her to her feet.

“I’m trying to help you!” Todd shouted into her face, breath hot and spittle wet on her cheeks. Then, “Oh, shit. Don’t you pass out on me, Gilly.”

But Gilly did.