Break Through (6 page)

“Ah, now don’t say that. I like to believe there is always hope.” A teasing smile played on his lips, but his eyes held a serious look. The double meaning caused a shiver to run up my spine.

“There is a slight chance we can revive it, but it’s going to take a lot of effort and patience. It won’t be easy.” Our gazes collided, and I fought to keep my breathing even.

“Fair enough.” His gaze never wavered from mine. “I’m willing. I have a feeling it will be worth the wait.”

I awoke to the sound of laughter. Child’s laughter. A foreign sound. One I hadn’t heard in so long. I uncurled myself from the fetal position I had assumed on the floor and looked around. My heart sank upon realizing I was still trapped. In my dream I had been outside running around in the grass, the reeds tickling the tender flesh of my bare feet. If only I could somehow escape into my dreams. If only that were possible.

Honing in on the sound, I realized it was coming from outside. Hoisting myself up, I grabbed onto the bars of the window and tried to peek out. Only the window was a little too high. I jumped up and down but couldn’t see anything except for the blue of the sky, a puff of a cloud. The noises came closer. Footsteps on pavement, chatting, laughing, the squeal of children. My heart ached. I jumped again, but it was no use. I couldn’t see anything. The window was too high. The noises were right under me now. I reached up as high as I could, stretching my arms above my head. The window was slightly open, and a breeze spilled inside brushing over my skin. I sighed, relishing it. I carefully slipped one of my hands through the bars and waved it in the air. Perhaps the people below would see me. One of the voices sounded like a girl around my age. It made me miss my best friend Katie. I wondered what she was doing right now. What time was it? Was she at school? I paused, realizing I didn’t even know what day of the week it was.

“What are you doing?” Kurt’s voice rang out in the room like a clap of thunder. Over my shoulder I saw him slam the door shut and move toward me.

I flinched, pulling my hand back. When I did, my wrist slammed into the bar, and pain shot up my arm.

He grabbed me by my other arm, violently pulling me away
from the window. His hands clamped down on both shoulders. “Were you trying to get someone’s attention?”

“N-no,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.
My gaze shifted to the floor so I didn’t have to look directly into his face. But I could still feel his eyes on mine, still smell his putrid scent. And his hands burned where they touched me as if his handprints were branding my flesh.

He glared at me and stood back up. Shoving past me he headed to the window. My heart picked up speed as he looked through it. Sliding his arm through the bars, he closed the window. The slam reverberated through my entire body.
“I’m keeping it locked from now on.” His voice was hard, final.

I shudder
ed as he stalked past me. When he left the room, I turned around to face the window. I stood perfectly still listening. Desperately trying to hear something. Anything.

“Hello,”
I whispered into the empty room.

But only silence responded.

It was pretty quiet on our property. Rarely did cars pass by. We were in the middle of nowhere surrounded by open fields of golden, brittle grass. But I’d always liked it. I didn’t desire attention from others. I didn’t want noise and chaos. However, now I found my ears perked, longing for the sound of tires on gravel. I was desperate for the slam of a car door and footsteps on the front porch signaling Carter’s arrival.

He had called earlier saying he’d be by and that he had good news for me. It was crazy how the sound of his voice made me feel. It was scary how much I anticipated his arrival.

“It looks like we’
ll be working together,” he told me minutes after coming over.

We were sitting on the back porch sipping iced tea.
I tucked my feet up under my body, a little embarrassed at how dirty they were. Carter leaned back in the Adirondack chair, his khaki pants rustling with the movement. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and his tousled hair fell right above them across his forehead.

“So no more Neil?”

“No more Neil.” He shook his head, his lips curving in a smile.

My shoulders relaxed
, and I exhaled.

“You’re relieved?”

“Very,” I answered.

When he turned toward me, my own reflection stared back through his dark lenses. Un
comfortable, I glanced down at the cup of iced tea in my lap.

“What is your biggest fear?” He asked.

“In life?” I ran my fingers over the condensation on my glass, drawing a swirly pattern. As a child, I loved to draw. One Christmas my parents bought me a huge kit filled with paper, crayons, markers and colored pencils. I had every color imaginable in that kit. I would spend hours drawing pictures and coloring in my coloring books. Mom used to tape them up all over the fridge as if our kitchen was a shrine to my art; my own personal art museum. She used to tell me I would grow up to be a famous artist. But Kurt never let me have crayons or pens. All I had was a few dolls and stuffed animals. That was it. No books, no paper, nothing to draw with. Sometimes I would draw on the carpet with my fingertips, little hearts or balloons in the thick reeds. When I returned Mom tried to get me interested in art again, but it was futile. I felt like that was part of who I used to be; a girl I didn’t even know anymore. Still sometimes I found myself doodling as if that little girl inside was trying to get out.

“No,” he clarified.
“About this article.”

“Oh.” I puckered my lips, thinking. The answer was simple, but I didn’t want to share it.
That he’ll find me again. That he’ll come out of hiding and come looking for me.
I knew it would make me sound stupid. I was an adult. There was no way he could hurt me now. So I kept my thoughts to myself and went with my second fear. “Reliving everything, I guess. I mean, it is one thing to think about it, but another to have to vocalize it; to remember all the details.”

“Then you won’t have to.”

“What?” How could we do an article if I didn’t share the details?

“You can share whatever you feel comfortable sharing. I don’t need to know all the details. Most of them I can get from newspaper articles from the time you were taken and when you escaped.”

“Really?” I had never thought it could be so simple.

“The first day I met you I promised to make this as painless as possible, and I never go back on my word.” He winked. “I do hope you’ll let me take some more pictures though. We got some good shots
, but I’d still like a few more.”

I nodded. “Of course.” Bringing
the tea to my lips, I took a sip. The sweet, cold liquid swam down my throat. A gentle breeze blew over my face, carrying with it a floral scent.

“
Do you have any siblings?” Carter set his iced tea on the porch, the ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass.

“No.” I shook my head. “
I was sort of a miracle baby. Years before I was conceived Mom had been told she couldn’t have children. She was devastated and planned to adopt one day. But then by some miracle she got pregnant with me. I think I was pretty spoiled because of it.” A small laugh escaped. “What about you? Are you an only child?”

His eyes darkened
, and I immediately regretted the question. “Yeah.” It was odd the way he responded to this, almost like he was unsure of the answer. “But I’m not the one being interviewed here.” Even though he attempted a nonchalant laugh, it came out strained.

I watched him for a moment, wondering what he was hiding before saying,
“Well, then interview away.”

Carter chewed on his bottom lip
, and I found my gaze lingering on his mouth. I’d never been kissed. In fact, I’d never wanted to be kissed. But I wondered what it would be like to kiss Carter. The idea caused my stomach to flip flop. “What is your favorite thing about being free?”

“Wow, no one’s ever asked me that before. Usually reporters want to know the details of my time in captivity. Not the details of now.”

“I believe that’s why you hired me. For my unconventional methods.”

“Yeah, I guess
so. But it’s hard to answer that question because I don’t really know if I’m free. Not really. Sure, physically I am, but mentally it’s like I’m still that girl locked in that room. Those five years he had me, I fantasized about one day escaping and no longer having to be scared or look over my shoulder. But I still am scared.” I pressed my lips together, staring out at the yard. “And I hardly ever leave this place. So in a sense I’m still kind of a prisoner. The biggest difference is that I can leave if I want to.” Pausing, I tried to make sense of my thoughts so I didn’t keep rambling. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that he may have only held me captive for five years, but in some ways I feel like he stole my entire life.”

I was
momentarily startled when Carter’s hand rested over mine. “I’m sorry, Aspen.” The concern in his voice almost broke me, but I swallowed back the emotion. His flesh felt good against mine, and I savored it. We sat like that for a few minutes in silence before Carter spoke again, his hand still over mine. “What can you do to steal it back?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t let him have the rest of your life, Aspen. So what will it take for you to claim it as your own?”

No one had ever asked me that before, and the question stopped me cold.
“I don’t know.”

A bird flew through the sky, landing on the telephone wires lining the backyard. The warm breeze rustled the flowers, emitting their sweet fragrance into the air. I set my iced tea down. It was nearly empty now.

Carter slipped his hand off of mine and tapped his chin. “What would have been different if he hadn’t taken you?”

“Everything,” I answered immediately.

“Be more specific. Like what are some things you missed out on?”

I nodded, seeing where he was going with this. A tiny bead of sweat trickled down my forehead
, and I wiped it off. It was hot today. I was grateful for the shade of the porch. “A lot of things. I missed out on field trips and playing with friends. You know, water fights, riding bikes, playing sports. Sometimes I could hear kids playing outside the window and I would wish so hard I could be outside with them.” I shook my head, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach returning. “I missed many years of school. I missed school rallies, football games, prom.”

“But you were back for high school, right?”

“I escaped when I was thirteen but I couldn’t jump into high school. I had five years of school to make up for. So I was homeschooled after that. Besides, I don’t think my parents would’ve let me out of their sight anyway.” I paused, lost in my thoughts for a minute. “But there were so many things he took from me that I can never get back.”

“Oh, I think you can.”

“How?”

“You have to be intentional about it.”

I thought about Carter’s statement when I was telling him how to care for his plants. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

“Anything worth doing is a lot of work.”

It was mid-morning and the sun was already scorching hot. The rays beat down on my neck that was exposed under my ponytail. With my free hand I wiped away the sweat. My other hand held the hose as I sprayed
my flowers. A butterfly flickered past, its colors blurring as it beat its wings. The buzz of a bee sounded in my ear, and I batted it away. Water trickled on the ground, soaking my bare feet. The coolness of it felt good.

“Thanks to your expertise
, I think a few of my flowers are already reviving.”

I flinched at the sound of Carter’s voice. When I turned, I saw him walking toward me wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I’d never seen him so casual
, and it took me aback. “I wasn’t expecting you today. I’m guessing it’s not a work call?”

He glanced down at his attire, smirking. “What makes you think that?”

I giggled. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re not wearing your usual khakis.”

“Am I that predictable?” He winked.
“You got me. I don’t work weekends unless I have to.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by and give you the 411 on my plants.”

“And you couldn’t have called?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“I could have, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your face.”

I froze.
What was he saying?
Suddenly I felt self-conscious about my dirty hair and face. I hadn’t even showered yet today. Thank god I’d brushed my teeth and put on clean clothes.

“When I did this.” He moved so fast I couldn’t even react. His hands ripped the hose out of my hands and water sprayed into my face. I sputtered and jumped backwards.

“What the hell?” Reaching up my hands, I frantically sluiced water from my face.

“You said you never had a water fight before.”

“Out of all the things I said, that’s what you remembered?” I spit water out of my mouth. Cool droplets of liquid dribbled down my face and neck.

“Trust me, I remember it all.” He laughed, bringing the hose up.
His finger was poised on the spray nozzle. My heart kicked up speed, and I held my hands up to shield my body. “Are you going to make it that easy for me again?”

I squealed and
dodged the next spray. Whirling around, I raced away from him, but a spray hit me in the back. He had it on the mist setting, though, so it didn’t hurt. His laughter trailed me as I ran faster.

“Do people really think this is fun?” I hollered as more water showered me. Shivering, I blocked the water
with my upper arm.

“C’mon, you know you’re having the time of your life.” He yelled back to be heard over the loud spray of the water as he squirted the nozzle.

It cascaded down my arm as a grin broke out on my face. I
was
having the time of my life. Not that I would admit it to him. I ducked down, as a thought struck me. There was another hose on the other side of the yard. With determination I headed toward it. Bending down, I hid behind a row of rose bushes as I maneuvered my way across the yard. Still he got me a few times. My hair was soaked by the time I reached the other hose. It dripped down my back, drenching my shirt. Water beaded in my eyelashes, and I blinked profusely as I snatched the other hose up. When Carter caught up to me, I sprayed him right in the chest.

“Ah.” He pressed his palm to his heart like he’d been shot. “I’m hit.” Then he winked. “Nice move, Aspen.”

“You gonna make it easy for me again?” I used his own words against him. Holding the hose up, my fingers were poised over the nozzle.

He smile
d before quickly turning around, but not before I pressed down on the spray nozzle, soaking him. However, he got me back by spraying me from over his shoulder. Water pelted me, drenching the front of my shirt. I glanced down at my purple v-neck, grateful I wasn’t wearing one of my white t-shirts. With all my might, I sprinted after him keeping my hose trained on him. He hopped behind a plant, and I couldn’t see him. But I knew he was there. I stealthily made my way over.

Carter jumped out from behind the bush, startling me. Water sprayed me in the legs. I shrieked and sprayed him back. Mud collected near my feet, the grass now sopping wet. I took a step, but my toe caught on a rock and I pitched forward
, the hose slipping from my fingers. Carter’s arms came around me, breaking my fall. However, he was still holding the hose, so water shot up my face. I coughed as some got in my mouth and nose.

“Oh, sorry.” He dropped the hose, his arms still around me.

Water pooled at our feet. Carter’s heart thumped beneath mine. I looked into his eyes and he stared right back. My breath caught in my throat. I’d never been this close to a guy before and I didn’t know what to do. My hands fluttered over his soaking wet chest as my body started to shake and my teeth chattered.

Carter’s hand rubbed my back.
“You’re shivering.”

“It’s okay,” I said breathlessly. “That was fun.”

He nodded. “It’s one thing you can check off your list.”

“Thank you,” I
said.

“Any time.”
His face was so close to mine I could smell his minty breath. His hand still circled my back, and his palm was surprisingly warm through my wet shirt.

“You’re a lot different than I thought,” I confessed.

“How so?” One of his eyebrows shot up.

“When I first met you I thought you’d never be the kind of guy to play in the mud.”

“Why’s that?” Carter seemed amused at my assumption. I noticed he still hadn’t let go of me, not that I was complaining. Just a little surprised, I guess. It was clear I wasn’t in danger of falling over anymore.

“You were so perfect when you
first showed up here wearing your khakis and your collared shirt, nothing out of place. I guess it reminded me of my parents. They never look sloppy like me.”

“Trust me.” His hand reached up, his finger tipping my chin. “You never look sloppy.”

“Whatever,” I forced words out despite how fast my heart was beating. This was so different from how fast it used to beat in captivity. No, this wasn’t a scared kind of beat. It was an exhilarating one. One I hoped to experience again and again. “I know I’m kind of a tomboy. I’m more comfortable in shorts and t-shirts with mud on my hands than I am in a dress.”

“Aspen,
even in your shorts and t-shirts with mud on your hands you’d blow the socks off most women in their dresses.” His thumb grazed my cheek. “You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?”

I stiffened, shocked by his words. No one had ever said that to me before.

“We can add that to the list of things he’s stolen from you. But not for long. Just wait. Pretty soon you’ll see what I do.”

I wondered what he meant by that.

His gaze shifted from me toward the house, and then he quickly dropped his hands. “I don’t think your mom is very happy about our water fight.”

I glanced up at the kitchen window. Mom watched us, her lips puckered. Laughter shot from my throat. I imagined this was what it felt like to be a rebellious teen. To do something just for fun.

But most of all, to have a friend.

After turning off the hoses, I wrung out the bottom of my shirt with my hands. The sun was getting hotter so I chose not to change out of my wet clothes. It felt kind of good
, actually. Instead, I grabbed us some beach towels.

Carter and I spread them out in the grass and
lay down to dry off. Our faces were upturned, allowing the sun to shine on us. My hair fanned around my head, the edges crinkly from the water. My skin smelled like hose water and grass.

“If I wasn’t worried about getting my camera wet I would’ve gotten some shots of you earlier. That would’ve been priceless. You should have seen the look on your face when I first squirted you.”

“It’s not fair. You gave me no warning at all.”

“That’s what made it fun.”

“Did you and your friends have water fights like that when you were younger?” I rolled my head to look at his profile. He had on sunglasses now so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell he was still looking up at the sky.

“All the time.” A smile passed over his lips. “But we didn’t always use hoses. Sometimes we used squirt guns. I had a super soaker.”

“Should I be frightened?”

“Nah.” He
turned his head to look at me. “No more water fights. We’re moving on to bigger and better things now.”

“Now I really am frightened.”

“Don’t be.” His fingers gently brushed mine. “You never need to be scared of me.”

I had been at his house for six months before he told me why he took me. It was evening when he came into my room. The sky had darkened, pink tinging the bottom of the clouds. I still spent most of my days staring up at the sky through the bars in the windows. Every night I dreamt of trees, flowers, large fields of grass. Freedom. But my days were spent inside this room. I was sick of the white walls and deranged looking stuffed animals.

He didn’t close the door behind him this time, and m
y pulse quickened.

“You don’t need to be scared of me.
I’m not going to hurt you.” It was like this was his mantra. He said it all the time, but I knew it was a lie. He was hurting me by keeping me here. He hurt me every day he didn’t let me out of this room. Every second he kept me away from the family that loved me. The family I belonged to. “Do you think you can be a good girl if I let you come downstairs?”

This perked my interest. I wasn’t sure if it was smart to go anywhere with him
, but the idea of getting out of this room was tempting. Slowly, I nodded. He held out his hand and my stomach soured.

“C’mon.” His tone was starting to take on that dark quality it got when I rejected him.

So I quickly tucked my hand in his. The mere act made me want to puke, but I resisted the urge. Taking deep breaths, I allowed him to lead me downstairs. I had only seen the house once that first day he brought me here. But I didn’t notice anything specific. At the time I was more interested in what time my parents would be by to pick me up. If only I hadn’t let him lure me upstairs to the “playroom” maybe I could have escaped and none of this would have happened.

When we reached the family room I was struck with how normal it looked. To anyone peering in the window we would look like father and daughter about to enjoy a quiet evening watching TV or playing board games. I didn’t know what I expected, but for some reason the fact that his house was clean and cozy sickened me. How could he act like a normal member of society when he had a child locked in a room upstairs?

The TV played quietly in the background and I could smell something baking in the oven. Despite my best efforts, my stomach growled.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Reluctantly, I nodded. I hated giving in to him, but the truth was that I was starving. He hadn’t brought me anything to eat yet today. Some days he did that. It didn’t bother me as much as it should because I enjoyed not having to see him.

“I can let go of your hand if you promise to stay put.” He squeezed tightly to my hand. So tight it hurt. As if I needed him to drive home the point. “If you try anything at all I’ll never let you out of the room again. Do you understand?”

I nodded, having no doubt he was serious. As much as I hated being with him, I did like it down here. I felt less claustrophobic.

He released my hand
, and the flesh tingled as feeling returned. “You can sit on the couch and watch TV while I get dinner on the table.”

It all sounded so normal. Like a typical night with a typical family. It turned my stomach. But I nodded and obediently made my way to the couch.

“I hate keeping you in that bedroom, but I had to make sure I could trust you before I let you out.” He spoke in a soothing tone. “You understand, right? I would never want to hurt my own daughter intentionally.”

Daughter? I froze
as the word registered.