The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (35 page)

“Angel, why don’t you hire an ultra sound machine, take some pictures of my—” I draw in a sharp breath when her head snaps to mine. “—Of the baby and arrange to meet Daniel at your doctors but give him the wrong time. You can be there for him in the waiting room with your picture in your hand.” I hold my breath while she remains silent, still only inches from my face.

“Don’t the scans have names and dates on them?” She mumbles but I release my breath because I know she is going to go with this plan. Her body is relaxed and her lips curl into an ugly smile. If anyone can pull off barefaced lying its Angel, well, it’s Angel and Kit.

“The dates you put in manually when you do the scan I would guess and the same with the name.” I offer because I don’t really know. I just assume it’s like any other procedure that involves a computer, you still have to input information. The scan will just reflect that truth, not the actual truth. She lets me go like I am suddenly offensive to touch and wipes her hand on her tight pink skirt.

“Right, well, I hope that works for your sake.” She snarls at me and I don’t know whether she is disappointed that I seem to have dodged another bullet, literally. She waves her ever present gun toward me and leaves the room. I slump back and exhale a deep breath; the tension visibly evaporates but not just from me but from Kit too. She sits beside me and bites her cheek like she is preventing herself from sharing something. I decide to bridge this impossible gap. I know she won’t be happy taking orders like she has. I have seen signs, flashes of discontent nothing concrete but I do feel us both relax when Angel left the room. That was real . . . it’s a start . . . it’s something and it’s all I have.

“What’s with the f—” I stop mid curse but her laugh interrupts my question and she tells me its fine to swear, that she doesn’t give a fuck and again that niggling feeling, that tiny grain of hope start to tremble with the first signs of life. I smile, hesitant at this very fragile relationship. “What I was going to say was what’s with the fucking music? I love music, I miss music but if I hear another soulful rendition of ‘I will always love you’ I swear I’ll . . .” I shake my head and rub my free hand through my hair limp and thick with dirt. “Well, we both know I won’t do jack shit because I am trapped in a room where everything is either nailed down or made of marshmallow.” I exhale but manage a frustrated smile.

She snickers and the sound is sweet, genuine and I try not to stare. I quickly close my dropped jaw. I don’t want to spook her by making it so obvious that her reactions are so far from ‘typical.’ It’s like I’m sitting next to an alien. Kit is smiling, losing a battle with her need to laugh. “She doesn’t want you talking to the baby and she believes listening to the ‘best’ vocals will make the baby musical. Oh fuck, I don’t know.” Her shoulders start to shake and she can’t keep her laughter contained any longer. It’s ridiculous, the whole thing is bat-shit crazy so I do the only thing that helps and laugh with her.

“She really believes listening to a singer with great vocals will make the baby a good singer?” I manage to draw in enough breath to speak but it is stuttered with proper belly laughs. I must look disbelieving at this because unable to speak she nods, holding her tummy and curling over. I wonder from this reaction when the last time she really laughed. “That’s crazy.” I state the obvious and she buckles again.

“I know right!” She draws in a breath and straightens like she is trying to compose herself. Taking a moment she checks herself, reins back in and gives me a tight smile before the familiar cool fixed; detached expression falls back in to place. The chill is instant and harsh now that, for the first time here, I have felt some indisputable warmth flow between us. Sadly I can’t think of a time that happened before now. She picks up the tray and I get a surge of panic at her sudden but inevitable departure. I grab her arm and the tray wobbles but my sudden hold is soft so she doesn’t drop the tray. Her eyes fix mine and her frown just highlights her own confusion at our exchange but she pulls away and narrows her brow, stern, cold and angry once more.

“Kit, please, don’t leave.” I beg for more than the reprieve she affords from the damn music. I beg because I want her there, I want her laughing and I want her warming a little but looking at her face now I know that that time, as fleeting as it was, is passed.

“So that’s what that feels like.” Her voice drips with malice and she continues as I must just look confused at her statement. “To be needed. To be needed by you.” She tightens her lips and sneers before she opens the door and leaves. I am no more enlightened with her follow up statement because she didn’t sound angry she sounded upset. Is she upset that I need her, because I definitely do or is she upset that I have never needed her until now, because that isn’t true. I needed her for most of my life but I needed her to be the sister I can barely remember, the one before this one, the one I saw a glimpse of today. That grain of hope just sprouted its first root.

THE SCAN WENT
well, certainly better than I wanted. I managed to help Angel input the details according to my own dates and with the help of some on-line images we managed to print off something that looked like the right type of grainy pattern. The only thing that was really uncomfortable was that I had to drink litres of water and then wait ages for Angel to set the bloody machine up. The image didn’t really spark anything in me and I am starting to worry that I am deliberately distancing myself because I am finally beginning to accept the hopelessness of my situation. When she returned from meeting Daniel parading the latest gift, I realise I am not distancing myself I am biding my time because there is no way this bitch is going to have my baby. She went on to explain how excited Daniel was and proud that she was handling the break-up of her marriage so well. You know that she was so determined to not let it affect the baby. He had bought her the ugliest watch I had ever seen. It wasn’t ugly but it was oversized, gaudy, encrusted with diamonds with a large mother of pearl face and a chunky silver, probably platinum chain link strap. I didn’t care if it cost hundreds of thousands, it was ugly to me. She was delighted my plan had worked and I was delighted that after that, she left me alone for nearly two weeks.

The music has continued to be piped every day but on the days where Kit is caretaker she turns it off and on days when Angel was obviously around Kit gives me her iPod but told me to only listen with one ear so I could still hear the door. This small act of kindness gives me such hope and each day I lay on my bed drifting off listening to a different playlist Kit has made. Loving that she has such great taste and thinking for the first time that perhaps my taste in music was maybe influenced by her, years ago, maybe. Whether that is true or not I love the fact that I can now hit repeat on some of my favourite bands, drown out Whitney and Mariah and pretend I am not going to end up dead in less than seven months. My hand rests on my abdomen and drifts to where the hard bump is just starting to grow proud of my pubic bone. I am loosing track of the days now but I know that this weekend it is just me and Angel. I wanted to ask Kit where she was going but I am still not comfortable with how much I need her and how much I miss her when she’s not there. I am not sure how telling her will do anything but make my situation that more vulnerable, as if that’s even possible.

Angel has left me to eat my last meal of the day alone and when she returns she looks angry, immaculately groomed and dressed for an evening out but furious and I brace myself and my face for impact. She paces a few lengths of the room which doesn’t take long before she spins and points her gun waving hand at me with a face like thunder.

“Why would he want to eat here?” She stomps and paces some more and I watch silently because I know that look; she is going to aim her venom and I am a sitting duck. “We never ‘eat-in,’ why does he want to eat in? I don’t cook he knows that. You are up to something!” She spits at me and suddenly stops waving the gun but holds it steady. My heart beats like a rapid fire rifle and I try to calm her agitation with a soft smile even though my jaw is clenched so tight my teeth hurt.

“Angel, I’m here. I’m up to nothing but doing what you tell me. He chose you.” She likes to hear this as much as I hate to say it. “Perhaps he just wants some alone time, in private.” My voice is soothing but it serrates my heart when she smiles a knowing smile. That flash of understanding in her eyes makes me think that up until tonight maybe she hasn’t had any time
alone
with Daniel. The slight flush of happiness of that thought is dashed when like her, I realise that he is going to be with her tonight, alone and in private. She giggles.

“Of course, how silly of me. You know I think it’s all the hormones making me a little crazy.” I think I just cracked a tooth, bat-shit doesn’t even come close to defining this woman. I need another category of crazy. She takes the tray and before she leaves turns with what she assumes is a naughty grin. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning?” The light goes off and I wonder how I am going to find my way to the toilet because now I really need to be violently sick. I leave it what I think is about an hour before I start screaming. I figure if Daniel is having a cosy night in with Miss Crazy as Fuck, and I scream loud enough he might hear me over all her lies. After I have screamed my throat raw and can barely make a whimper as I curl back on the bed and try to close my eyes without picturing Daniel holding Angel, Daniel kissing Angel . . . Daniel . . . Just Daniel.

I would scream but the air needed to make the sound has been forced from my chest with the sudden weight on my stomach and before I can move to protect myself I am inundated with a rain of flying fists and hysterical screaming. The room is still dark but the slight light filtered through the open door casts a shadow across Angel’s face that only enhances her demonic behaviour. I try to shield my face from the blows; her tight fists pummel my face relentlessly. She is surprisingly heavy and my attempt to shift her is unsuccessful, if I could leverage myself up with my one free arm I might be more successful but I need that to protect my head. All I can do is hold my breath and wait for her to stop using me as her own private punching bag. My head is ringing and she catches my lip with one of her rings but I am quick to suck in the swelling, bloody tissue before she can freak out even more. She finally stops but I think that is more to do with exhaustion rather than intention because from the glare of her eyes she is in no way finished. I guess her evening didn’t quite go to plan. Glad I am sucking my lip right now because I am sure I would be smiling if I wasn’t. As Daniel said ‘I just can’t help myself.’

“He says he’s over you. He says you are nothing. He even says he can’t believe he ever deserved a second chance with me.” She thumps her chest in earnest, before she throws her head back and barks out a bitter laugh. “Then why won’t he take it? Mmmm? Why doesn’t he stay the night? I thought he was going to stay the night. That’s what you said!” She narrows her eyes and I feel instantly chilled to my bones. “
You
said he wanted to be alone with me. Do you think he doesn’t? Do you think he still wants you?” Her eyes are cold, wild and her voice is something less than human,more like an animal snarl. I shake my head vigorously and start to protest but she slaps her hand on my mouth and holds me still, her strength is a little shocking because I know from my own exercise routine that I have built up some muscle tone but I am rendered useless against her adrenaline induced super strength.

She sits astride me, her face inches from mine and I can now see in the darkness she is wearing a long dark silk robe that has fallen open and now only partially covers a full ensemble of awkwardly sexy lingerie. Delicate black lace bra and panties with stockings and suspenders; and Daniel chose to go home. Well, at least I can understand why she’s pissed but that is hardly my fault. Her breathing is frantic, whilst I am scared to breathe at all. She sits up and shifts up my body so she is not directly on my tiny bump and even though she is almost naked straddling me I can focus on nothing but her lifeless, empty eyes. She reaches her right hand behind her and after a moment of subtle movement she brings it back into view but this time she is holding a knife. Where the fuck did she keep that hidden on her almost naked body! The room maybe dark but the blade gleams with ominous intent and I swallow so loudly it would be comical but I’m not laughing. I’m terrified. The knife is so much scarier than the gun, intimately violent, it offers no possibility of a quick end. There is no such luxury with a blade. Oh Shit. Shit. Shit. I never thought I would wish that Daniel had fucked Angel but I really wish he had now because nothing holds fury like a knife wielding Angel spurned.