The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (38 page)

Jake and Mable,

A thousand choices in one lifetime,

When there was really only one:

Us,

Always.

He was sitting there with a small blue velvet box. I already knew we weren’t going to have sex and I already knew he was going to marry me. He told me that when I was eleven years old.” I add because she looks shocked at my presumption. “The box held a promise ring and I knew his promise would never be broken . . . that he would love me and care for me and be my everything.” I can feel my tears but I don’t feel so sad and I am smiling remembering that wonderful day, because it was the very best birthday. I know she feels uncomfortable so I make a joke about crazy emotional hormones and she laughs easing the sombre mood. I lean forward and try to stretch my back out; sitting bunched up hurts my back and squishes my bump.

“Can you feel it move?” She is actually pointing to my heart but I know that’s not what she means.

I shake my head and she looks disappointed. “No, not yet, it’s a little early. I think it’s supposed to be around fifteen weeks. You can’t even really see the bump with my clothes on.” We both fall silent and my mind races with a million requests. The most prevalent is the one I think she has promised already and I don’t want to give her the opportunity to retract it but there is one thing that is praying on my mind and scaring me shitless. “You will be here, for the birth, I mean?” I can see her eyes widen but she can also hear the fear and panic in my voice at the thought of being alone or worse. She shifts off the bed and takes the tray; she turns and holds my heavy gaze full of desperate need and smiles at me. “It is just that if Angel can’t stand the sight of blood . . . I mean you didn’t see her when I bit my lip . . . if she reacts like that to a drop she is not going to be able to help me . . . besides I don’t really want her here at all if that is an option but I don’t want to be alone either.” My voice trembles.

“I’ll be here.” Her soft words are like a warm blanket and I can’t believe the comfort they afford. “See you later.”

SHE DIDN’T COME
back at lunch time and she didn’t appear at dinner. It wasn’t like she had promised to return today and it’s not like either of them keep to any particular routine but I just feel really sick that something is wrong. I chase my dry grilled chicken around my plate as Angel sits at the edge of my bed picking imaginary lint from her tailored trousers.

“Um Angel, Kit said she was going to be there for the birth and . . .” Before I can ask her intention regarding the event she snickers and quickly places her polished nails against her lips but her eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments. Unfortunately that moment is all I need, an instant ice chills my soul. “Angel. .whats funny?”

“What is funny . . . is that you think you are so clever. It is quite pathetic your attempt to manipulate Kit, quite pathetic.” She raises her hand to stop my attempt to deny her suspicions. “Don’t insult me Bethany . . . you have done enough . . . and so have I.” Her cold eyes look less than human and I feel my world drop away and any hope I had fostered that my baby would, at least be safe, die with that one look. I get the feeling Kit isn’t coming back and I am terrified to process what that means for Kit but I know what it means for me. It means my time is up and I have to do something drastic. I have to get out of here.

I can’t let her see that I know something bad has happened. I can’t let her see how scared I am and I can’t let her see that I am just about desperate enough to try anything. I shake my head to change the subject because I think my best play is ignorance. “Never mind, actually I did want to ask for something.”

She sniffs and looks at me down her nose. “Really? Quite the demanding little bitch aren’t we?”

I grit my teeth to stop my agreement, that
she
is, in fact ,quite a demanding bitch. “I have this killer craving for some Tahini.” She frowns at my request and I wonder if Kit told her of my allergy. “It’s really quite healthy, with carrot sticks.”

“That sesame seed hummus? You’re craving that?” She laughs and wrinkles her nose. “I’ll see what I can do.” She moves to take my tray but leans in to whisper, her eyes narrowed with malice and utter hatred. I wonder if they match my own. “But you will owe me.” Her thin lipped smile doesn’t touch her eyes as she backs out of the room. I gasp for air holding the sudden pain in my chest too terrified to cry anymore I just need to get out of here, even if it kills me.

After the light is switched off I run through my very limited options. If I eat the hummus with the sesame seeds I will have a reaction, not sure how strong and not sure Angel would even bat an eyelid as I struggle for breath. No, it needs to be more. I need to bleed, the baby needs to be in jeopardy, but not actually in jeopardy. Fuck! How do I make myself bleed enough to make her take me to hospital and that’s assuming she cares enough to want to save the baby. This whole room has nothing harsher than my language to cut myself with and even the cutlery an infant would struggle to injure themselves. I nibble on my thumb nail as my mind works through a number of scenarios until I think I am happy with my plan. It’s not a great plan and I could very well slip into a coma before she decides to help,
if
she decides to help but it’s all I have now that Kit is gone, is probably gone. My body makes an involuntary shudder because in my heart I can just feel the truth, Kit is definitely gone.

Of course I may not have to pretend to bleed if she keeps coming in here in the middle of the night and hitting my head with the heel of the gun. Slam! Her fist connects hard with my cheek bone and slam again with the back of her hand. I try not to cry out but, fuck it hurts. She holds my face flat against the pillow with the gun in her hand and drags her nails down my inflamed cheek. Not enough to draw blood but enough to score the skin and make my eyes water. She leans in, her venomous words spit into my face. “Why the fuck does he keep coming here Bethany? What is he looking for? Is it you? Does he think he’ll find you? Because he won’t, I have you too well hidden in here.” She pinches my face and holds it between her bony fingers with one hand and holds the gun to my temple with the other. My shallow panting breath can barely escape because of her weight on my chest. “He would never be happy with you. I saved you that. You should thank me. How could he ever be happy knowing he killed his own child? What kind of man could live with himself? Only I can make it bearable for him, because only I can forgive him. He needs my forgiveness to be happy, understand?” She smiles at this, because in her crazy mind I guess that makes sense but it just makes me fucking mad.

“He’d forgive himself pretty fucking quick if you told him the truth.” I hold my breath expecting the full force of her rage but her eerie laugh is so much worse. She is silent for endless sadistic seconds.

“Did you honestly think your sister was going to help you? Did you honestly think I would let her?” She looks me dead in the eyes and I can’t breathe as her next words destroy me. “Did you think I wasn’t listening?” She throws her head back and laughs. “You might’ve thought you had a future. You might have thought you had a future with Daniel. It is laughable, really it is. You just don’t get it do you? Only I hold his past,
me,
he has no future, will never have a future without
me.
” She pats my cheek and strokes my hair like you would a wounded animal and perhaps that’s what I am to her, a pathetic, helpless wounded animal. She leaves just as silently as she came and I curl on my side, knowing she can hear I refuse to cry out but the silent tears fall, unstoppable and I let them. I cry for Kit, I cry for Daniel, and I cry for me and my baby but the tears will stop eventually because what I need is a much more potent mix of emotions. I need my anger and rage. I need to encourage and embrace the hatred that swills deep inside, fury like a fire needed to purge that vile excuse for a human. Now I am focused, now I have a plan and now I can’t wait for tomorrow to come because tomorrow this ends.

I barely sleep but I’m not tired. I am determined to end this today and if my sudden illness and blood loss doesn’t work I am just going to go old school and beat the shit out of her one handed. She might get a lucky shot and I might not be so fortunate but in the end she wants me dead. She wants my baby and I am under no illusion that the minute my baby is lifted from me my time is up. She’s going to make sure of it, so technically I have nothing to lose. Angel swings into the room bright and cheery, polar opposite from the dark twisted demon snarling in my face last night. She chats away moaning about how much more work she has since Kit let her down and Clive is no longer employed. She even pats my back as I choke on the food stuck in my dry throat. I close my eyes to stop myself from breaking in front of her and I even try to look sympathetic to her plight. She takes my tray and just before I can ask again for the hummus she turns her head and sighs dramatically.

“I’m just off to the deli to get
your
treat. But don’t make a habit of this.” She waggles her finger at me like I’m a naughty child putting her to so much trouble. She also pauses long enough for me to know I should say something and I guess it’s not ‘fuck off and die bitch.’

“Thank you Angel, it’s really very kind of you to go to so much trouble and I promise this will be my very last request.” I am hoping it’s just my last meal
here
and not my actual last meal. I would hate to die with the taste of hummus burning my throat and Angel looking down her nose at me with irritation that I have spoiled her day. She nods, smiles and turns to leave the room. Once the door is closed I sink back against the wall and let out a huge sigh, relieved that it is going to be today after all. I need the combination of all of these things to work together in my plan for the best impact and to ensure success.

I secure my chain to the wall hopefully for the last time and wait for Angel to loosen the chain enough for me to sit comfortably but with not too much free rein. She flounces in and puts the small brown paper deli bag on the table and sits beside me waiting for me to gush with appreciation. She looks annoyed that I smile tightly and open the bag. My skin tingles even as I remove the small pot and plastic container with the carrot sticks but I know that’s just in my head. I am really not that allergic that I would react to the seeds’ mere presence. I waste no more time and pick the lid off and scoop my finger in and lift a substantial heap of pinkish grainy paste and suck my finger dry, quickly repeating until I have eaten half the pot. I hesitate for a fraction of a second contemplating whether I will need to finish the pot because whether or not I was allergic this stuff tastes pretty nasty but I instantly feel the first hit of heat on my tongue.

I draw in a deep breath and can feel my rapid heartbeat thump harder in my chest and now the tingles on the skin of my throat are red hot scratches and my tongue feels puffy and swollen. Water is pooling like a lake in my mouth and I can feel it dribble out of the corner of my mouth as I try to pant in some cooler air. All of this I am managing to keep to myself and in my peripheral vision I can see Angel is still inspecting her nails or it might be the material of her skirt. With one sudden sharp movement I stab the soft plump tissue in my left palm, where my thumb joint is, with the bitten sharp point of the thumb nail on my right hand. I stab hard and rip and wriggle deeper into the flesh despite the excruciating pain because I need blood. I bite my teeth, my head feels dizzy, my mouth is on fire and now I can feel my chest tighten. The warm sticky liquid is collecting in my clenched palm and I instantly cup myself at the crotch of my white leggings and continue to pump my fist urging my blood to run from my hand.

“Angel!” I cry out suddenly but I hardly recognise my voice, my tongue is fat and doesn’t respond to my instructions. My words are slurred but the look on her face, is shocked enough for me to not have to go into detail. She slaps her hand to her mouth at the first sign of blood. “I need an ambulance, please Angel!” I look at the blood seeping down the inside of the top of my leggings and watch as she spins her head away with a hunch of her shoulders and a hand at her mouth. She doesn’t move so I cry again. “Please Angel you have to get help, the baby, you might lose the baby!” Still she doesn’t move and although I don’t think I have lost a lot of blood I feel really dizzy, hot and I am struggling to catch a decent breath. She doesn’t turn but her voice is perfectly calm.