“Then, you’re lying to yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You had many times to kill me, Phoenix.”
“I didn’t.”
“You knew where I lived.”
“T-that doesn’t matter—”
“You definitely had guns and the people to help you.”
“I didn’t want to kill you then.”
He stared at me. “Why not?”
I closed my eyes. “Fuck you, Cole.”
“Some part of you yearned for me.” He smeared the golden ointment on my wounds. My skin tingled wherever he touched. “Do you know where the term gaslighting came from?”
I remained silent.
“It came from a 1938 play called Gaslight which was turned into a movie in 1944.”
I opened my eyes.
“In the movie, the heroine’s new husband is manipulating her. He’s trying to make her question her sense of reality.”
“Why?”
“He wants to commit her to a mental institution and steal her inheritance.” Cain smeared more of the ointment over my skin. “So he isolates her at first. Then she starts noticing odd things—missing pictures, strange footsteps in the night, and gaslights that dim without being touched.”
“The husband is doing all of this?”
“Yes, but he tells her that it’s all in her mind. That none of this is happening at all.”
“Who wins in the end—the husband or her?”
“She does.” Cain put everything up and looked at my handcuffs. “I’m going to let you go so you can get dressed. Will there be any problems?”
I gritted my teeth. “No.”
“If you run, I’ll catch you.”
Are you sure about that?
“After staking out your childhood home, I shifted my attention to Victory Park. There, I thought of all the ways to stop you from running from me again.”
I tensed. “W-what ways?”
“Don’t make me show the alternatives to you.”
I trembled in fear.
After that, he uncuffed and untied me, massaging my arms and legs. He explained that he was doing it to get my blood flowing.
Immediately, I grabbed Dr. Fuzzy and held him close to me.
Then, Cain told me to dress and pack all my stuff into a suitcase that he’d brought with him.
I did as he ordered. The whole time I ran on autopilot. A thick fog clouded my head. It was like a drug-induced hallucination.
What will be my life? How will I get out of this?
Cain had drawn on my body, carving his name into my flesh. He’s put my name on his.
This won’t be a simple solution.
I didn’t want to kill him. I couldn’t understand why. He haunted my nightmares. He terrified me. I’d been hiding from him these past weeks, scared shitless that he’d find me.
But I still wasn’t ready to end his life.
How can I get out of this without killing him?
Not to mention the fact that once Quin figures out what happened she will be rushing toward Cain’s chapel with guns and people. Only God knew what Cain and his brothers would do when that occurred. The whole time I pictured a huge shoot out in my head.
I can’t get anyone hurt.
While I dressed and packed, Cain cleaned up my bedroom—stuffing the bloodied comforter into a trash bag, getting rid of the stained sheets, and wiping down the mattress with sudsy bleach as well as other surfaces.
What should be my next move?
His deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Are you done?”
I slowly zipped up my bag and kept Dr. Fuzzy with me. “Yes.”
“Good. Put it by the bed.” He took the trash bag of bloodied blankets and placed it by the bed. “I’ll get your bags and carry them out.”
“I can carry my own bag. You already have your duffle bag.”
“Do you see my arms?”
I eyed them. “Yes.”
He smirked. “Would you say they’re big?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
“You don’t carry anything anymore.”
I put the bag where he told me too. “What are you going to do with the bloody comforter and sheets?”
“It has your blood on it, so it’s mine. I brought a new one just in case. It’s on the couch.”
I headed off. “I’ll get it.”
He called back to me, “I like that you’re helping.”
“I’m just tired and want to get this trip to your chapel over with.”
I need my strength to escape later.
“We’re not going to my chapel, Phoenix.”
I paused in the center of the hallway and turned around. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Frowning, I went to the living room, picked up the new comforter, and headed back to my room. “Why won’t you tell me where we are going?”
“You’re smart and resourceful.” He took the comforter from me and began to make the bed. “You don’t need a head start to figure out new ways to get away from me.”
“Perhaps, I just want to know my destination.”
“Bullshit.” He smoothed the comforter down. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? It’ll be a long ride.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “No, daddy. I don’t need to go to the bathroom.”
He gazed at me. Heat filled his eyes. “I kind of like you saying daddy.”