Chapter 34
Time was almost running out. Nathan had to be found before sunset.
"Stay still," Eli ordered, and yet he lathered the antiseptic on my cuts so liberally that I had to flinch away.
"Fuck!" I hissed.
The corner of his lip twitched. "It's just a little pain, baby. I've put you through so much worse."
And least that part was true. But the fury inside me was beginning to bubble up to the surface, and the citizens of Brazil would not be able to escape it. It had been stupid, so, so stupid, to let Nathan get away the way he did. Now I no longer wanted to play nice. He had driven out the part of me that I have kept hidden for so goddamned long.
This was the last straw. Nathan would fall in love with me whether he liked it or not.
I may have been naïve in thinking that he would do it naturally, but he was also naïve in believing that he could run away without a glitch. The band on his wrist would lead us to him, and by then I would have come up with a punishment.
He had broken my nose.
He had broken my nose.
The blood had crusted over the worst of my injuries, and Eli was doing his best to clean it off. The busker had been shocked to the core about the guitar incident, and had offered his services as much as he could. I was given antiseptic, painkillers and a bowl of coconut milk stew called mocueqa. It continually surprised me how trusting strangers could be. Especially towards pretty little blondes.
The bridge of my nose throbbed and ached. No longer was it straight and perfect – a little bump sat straight in the middle, setting my nose askew. The entire area itself was bruised, giving me an awful purple hue. It would take weeks to heal with proper medical treatment, but months without. I was more than furious. I was murderous.
He had ruined my face. And I would ruin his.
That would teach him not to disobey me again. If our love was ever going to work, he needed to learn that I was not to be messed with. He would obey me, answer to me, cherish me, and spoil me just as much as Daddy had. He would give me everything he had – his money, his thoughts, his secrets, his soul. He would wholly belong to me, and only me. That was love. That was what Daddy had showered me with, and I expected no less.
And if I had any chance of avoiding Aurora's wrath, I would have Nathan back before noon.
"Stop," I demanded, swatting Eli's hand away. I grimaced as the antiseptic soaked into my cuts and bruises, making my skin feel raw and exposed. "We need to find him. Now."
"If it gets infected-"
"If he gets recognised, we'll have an even bigger problem." The temperature had risen, causing my shirt to stick to my body. Just as my skin felt raw, but insides felt raw too – I was burning with anger and violence, unable to get a grip on my emotions. Nathan showed today that he obviously had no hesitations when it came to injuring me. Fine. He wanted to play that game.
And I would gladly comply. Let's see how loudly I could make him scream.
Eli and I jumped straight into our borrowed car, turning on his phone to find the tracker. Nathan's wristband came with a tracking chip device inside, making it ridiculously easy for us to drive across the narrowing Salvador streets and locate our little escapee.
But as it turns out, Nathan had gotten farther than I thought.
The flashing red dot had made it past the streets, and was quickly gaining towards the highway. The highway was long, and would eventually lead to the capital city. Nathan would probably seek refuge there. That made me anxious. The roads here were foreign to me, and I had no idea just what kind of people lurked between busy freeways. Surely the police would be patrolling the roads? And if so, would they grow suspicious of the running American man with no shoes? Even worse, would they recognise the running American with no shoes?
I couldn't afford that.
Eli worked it out quicker than I did, and stepped on the pedal so hard we knocked over a wooden sign. Pedestrians jumped out of the way as we screeched into the street, gathering angry shouts and foreign curses. If I had been behind the wheel, the majority of them would have died. I would have driven over their dead bodies, over and over until their blood painted the pavements.
It would be a festival of a different kind. The Festival of Death.
We had to find him, and we had to find him quickly. While the language barrier would buy us time, Nathan could still run into an English-speaking person and ask for help. He would tell them that he had been kidnapped, smuggled out of his own country and forced into a life he didn't want. For all I knew, the Brazil police force already knew of a kidnapped twenty-one year old from America with strange-coloured hair and a height of over six feet.
Which meant that this was very, very dangerous.
"There he is," Eli muttered, slowing the car to a crawl as we became caught in traffic. As well as cars, tricycles and motorbikes littered the freeway as we drove past the first exit, our eyes straining against the setting sun.
I looked around frantically, gripping the edge of my seat. "Where?" All I could spot were trees and concrete walls and-
There.
I couldn't cover the smile that lit up my face as I watched Nathan limp his way forward, walking as fast as he could without putting more strain on his leg. We were both injured, now. And yet that wasn't enough for me. Eli stayed surrounded by vehicles and made no attempt to speed up, and sweat ran down my face and into my eyes, making them sting. His daring little escape had cost me my beauty, and I was going to take revenge. I would make him suffer. Even if it took a hundred smashed guitars.
A movement. Something jerked Nathan away from his destination and made him turn around. His face suddenly transformed into a look of pure relief. To my absolute horror, a woman had pulled over her car and decided to speak to him, her skin too pale and her hair too light to suggest that she was a native.
My stomach dropped. No.
Without warning, Eli stomped on the brakes and thrust the door open, sauntering his way to the scene. I almost followed after him, but held myself back. Eli had a plan, and it obviously didn't involve me. I bit my lip and watched him work his magic.
Did the woman notice how Nathan's eyes widened in horror when Eli placed a brotherly thump on his back? Did she notice the growing look of alarm on his face as Eli chatted easily and calmly, his hand still clamped tight over Nate's shoulder, smiling that charming smile of his? And did she notice the plea of help on Nathan's lips, just before it was cut off by Eli's laugh?
For a moment I feared that she did. But when Eli begun to lead Nathan back to the car, the woman had already turned her back and walked away.
Nathan took one look at me, and sniggered to hide his devastation. "Beauty queen of only eighteen, huh?"
The remote was already in my hand, and I silenced his smartass remarks all the way home with electric shocks strong enough to stun a baby elephant.
***
Aurora's henchmen waited for us beyond the gates, their faces stoic and blank as Eli turned off the ignition. The doors were opened sooner than I could blink, and an unconscious Nathan was pulled out of the car and dragged into the house. Faintly, I could hear the household noises of the residences upstairs, amongst the beach houses, oblivious as to what and who lived beneath them.
Hopefully the walls were soundproof.
"Get in as quickly as possible," was Eli's only word of advice. I did as I was told.
Aurora waited in the kitchen, her legs crossed in that peculiar way of hers, her back as straight as a ruler and her hair as perfect as ever. Beneath her pleasant face was an underlining of something, and yet I couldn't make out what it was. All I could do was hold my breath and hope for the best.
I hated wishful thinking.
Setting her wine glass down, Aurora spoke. "Did you have a fun time? Certainly looks like you have."
I flushed, but remained poised. "We lost him. But only briefly. I promise I won't take him outside of these walls again."
She kept her eyes on me, her irises dark with malice. "I know. You forget that I gave you that wristband. You don't think I would keep track of the prisoners under my roof?"
The way she phrased her words chilled me to the core. It was almost as if she were suggesting that I was a prisoner also, and that I was the one being watched carefully. I hated it. I hated the feeling that crept over me. "I'm sorry for assuming."
"Good." Her smile was brief, but not at all warm. With a flick of her wrist, she beckoned me. "The keys to your room."
I froze, hesitating. The doors in Aurora's house, I quickly learned, locked themselves. Only a key could unlock them, and the lone key inside my pocket was the only copy I had. What did this all mean? Did she no longer trust me to the extent that she wanted to keep me locked inside her guest room? Suddenly I felt unsafe. I felt watched.
Just how many cameras had she installed into my room?
But I couldn't deny her. As much as it physically hurt to do so, I had to reach into my back pocket and turn the key over. Any other move, and I would be dead. Or worse, handed in to the police.
And just like that, I had put myself right in Aurora's clever little hands. I had given her complete power over me, without even realising it. All this time I thought I was in control, and yet it was her who stood at the top of the pyramid, and her who made the rules.
But I was powerless. I did what I had to do. I schooled my expression to be as politely indifferent as hers, and handed over the tiny key. Her smiled widened. "Clever girl. Wash yourself up, and don't get any more blood on my walls."
Stiffly, I turned around and did as I was told, hating every moment of it. The henchmen dragged Nathan along with me, and unceremoniously dumped him on the bed. I waited patiently for them to depart, to close the doors behind them, to hear the little click of the door.
I grabbed a vase to my right, held it up high with both hands, and smashed it onto the tile floor. An enrage scream tore through my throat, vibrating through me and piercing my ears. The rage was back, bigger and stronger than ever, and this time I wanted to kill. I wanted to maim. I wanted to wound.
And I took it all out on Nathan.
He was out cold when I climbed up on top of him, a shard of glass in hand, but he was definitely awake when I drove the glass into his cheek. I relished the way he struggled against me, the way he shouted himself hoarse and the way he choked under the grip I had around his neck. My vision went red. I saw nothing, yet I saw everything.
Reality became distorted. My surroundings transformed into something not unlike my childhood memories. As I slashed and slashed at his flesh – face and neck and chest and arms – my hands suddenly became someone else's. They became smaller. They became childlike. His screams no longer sounded throaty and human, but unintelligible and shrill.
Nathan was the bunny. And I was the hungry little six year-old, slashing at his body until it oozed blood. I was a monster, a killer, a savage beast.
I was Rhea fucking Griffin.
***
It took everything I had not to kill Nathan right there and then. It was evident from his current state that I almost had. But somewhere along the line, reality came biting back. I was not a little girl anymore. I was a full-grown woman, and the man I was hurting was the man I loved.
And the man I loved was now a bloody mess. I did the best that I could underneath such circumstances, but the bed sheets hadn't been enough to stop the bleeding. His body, once so perfect and untarnished, was now covered in hideous cuts with varying depth. Some were shallow, and bled very little. Some were very, very deep.
I stroked his bloody, marred cheek, wanting to cry and beat myself black and blue. The monster had come out, and now the consequences would follow. What had gotten into me? How on Earth was Nathan supposed to love me now?
Don't be silly, I reassured myself. He still loved me. He will forgive me. He has to forgive me.
So I did the only thing I could do. Reaching into the dresser beside me, I pulled out the tiny little bag I had been saving for a situation more fitting. Placing a kiss on his bleeding forehead, I did what I had to do.
"I, Rhea Angelica Griffin, take thee, Nathaniel Ericson, for my lawful husband." The words were soft and tender, my hands even more so as they slid the platinum ring on his third finger. My eyes lingered on his face, and through the blood and gore I admired his beauty. I admired the beauty of the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. "To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life."
I finished the vows with a soft kiss against his lips.
And now he was mine. Truly mine.
I held my newly made husband in my arms till midnight, caressing him in any way I could, and whispering our future into his ears. The bleeding eventually stopped, though I made no attempts to cry for help. The wounds, whilst being deep, were not at all fatal. Aurora wouldn't give us help. The only thing capable of healing him was the love he and I shared.
If he was going to die, I would die with him.
Eventually, I untangled myself from him and cleaned up the broken glass on the floor, not wanting Nathan to step on them once he woke up. Next I attempted to clean up the place a little bit, using that as a distraction from the storm brewing in my mind. I didn't dare try to open the door. If it really were unlocked, what on Earth could I possibly do about it?
Nothing.
But I had never been a cleaner, and soon I grew too frustrated to continue. Nathan's blood clung to my skin and clothes, drying into my hair and gathering inside my nails. Hadn't this been what I'd wanted? To be surrounded by him in every which way possible?
That made me smile.
So, unable to sleep and unable to do anything of worth, I went against Eli's orders and turned the television on. Amusing myself with Brazilian shows worked for five minutes, and five minutes only. I settled back beside Nathan, my husband, and flipped the channel to American cable.
Specifically the late night news.
And what I found was much, much more entertaining.
Above the headline "TEEN PARTY DISASTER: ONE DEAD, TWO MISSING" was a woman who frequented American news. I turned up the volume, wanting to hear every word she had to say about the greatest party in the world.
"An update by the police has been given concerning the infamous party in Alistair that had resulted in the death of one girl and the disappearance of two well-known profiles. Police have found the identity of the 18 year-old girl who was discovered, slaughtered and dismembered, inside a coat closet. Close friends grieve as a memorial is built in her memory."
To my utmost surprise, the crying, hysterical mess that was Becca Johnson's face appeared. I sat up higher, taking delight in her state. The little rich girl with a convertible, the first person to befriend her at Greymare High, looked so pathetic that I laughed out loud. "She was only here for one week," she wept into a piece of tissue. "And it honestly could've happened to anyone, but the worst part was that it happened to her. She was a good and kind person, and she really didn't deserve this."
Her confession made me stop short. What?
Then it began to sink in. Time seemed to slow down as the face of the 'victim' was showed on screen, and for a minute I was at a stand-still, unable to think or breathe or do anything but stare at the pixelated redhead on the screen.
Somewhere in the back of my sluggish brain, the news reporter's words registered in my head, triggering something so violent that the earlier rage I'd felt could not even compare.
"Through some DNA testing, the girl has been identified as Georgia May, a Christian schoolgirl attending the Evangel House Christian Academy. The family of Georgia May refuse to comment on the event of their daughter's death, and wish to grieve in privacy."
***
Author's Note: I have a feeling that I've made some typos. Sorry. I am very, very tired and very, very stressed.