When I eventually pull away from the warmth of Jude’s skin, his eyes offer me a salvation I so desperately need. A salvation only he can give. Where he may not be able to take away the nightmares or erase Tom’s touch, he can replace it with his own. My gaze drops to his lips, and I try to muster the courage to kiss him. I push up on my toes, and he doesn’t hesitate. I embrace the warmth of his lips, hoping they can breathe life back into me. Each soft press of his mouth feels reverent, and I give in a little more, tilting my head as he deepens the kiss. The pain melts away until he suddenly pins me to the wall. That simple, domineering movement takes the sensations of warmth and safety and transforms them into memories of being restrained and forced, and I fight to get away.
“Hey. Hey. It’s okay....” Jude steps back with a furrowed brow.
Tears blur my vision. This is Jude. I know he would never hurt me, but it doesn't seem to matter. Defeat is like a lead weight pushing down on me until I feel small and broken. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't be." He pulls me close again and rubs his hand along my back, comforting me in a way only he can. “It’ll be okay. Give it time.”
They say time heals all wounds. I can only hope that's true.
_____
The scent of coffee greets me when I step into the tiny, outdated kitchen the next morning.
"Morning, darlin’,” Marney says, taking a seat at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and his paper. “You told him yet?"
"No."
"Gonna have to tell him some time…” Yes, at some point, but based on when I had my last period, I think I’m about eight weeks which means I have a while.
"He's not ready to hear it."
"He's not ready to hear it, or you're not ready to say it?"
Both, but I tell myself that Jude doesn’t need this right now. I have no doubt at all that Jude will want this baby that he’ll love it. But what if Tom comes for us before Jude gets to him? He’s outmaneuvered him at every turn up until now. Always three steps ahead. I’ll see you soon, Tor. Those ominous words play through my mind. No, telling Jude only gives him even more, to lose when Tom does come for me. And he will. I feel it in my broken soul.
"I know you don't wanna talk 'bout it—'' Marney places the paper on the counter. “But if you ever need to..."
The last thing I want to do is talk about it. "I just need to forget, Marney."
"Ain't no forgetting, darlin', just surviving."
He doesn't tell me it will be okay. He doesn't pretend there will be a day where what Tom did to us will all be a distant memory because there won't. It makes me like the old man.
"Now, you gonna eat today?" He pushes up from the stool and shuffles toward the fridge, opens the door, and stares inside at the bare contents. He grabs something and tosses it on the counter before going for the bread. “I’mma make you a tuna sandwich. Tuna’s good for the…” He turns and drops his gaze to my stomach. “The you know what,” he whispers.
Marney’s Tuna melt sandwiches are bad on a good day, let alone with morning sickness, but I can’t quite bring myself to tell him that. Instead, I thank him, and after he’s cooked it, and choke down a few bites. After I consequently throw up, I go outside to sit on the porch and take in the beauty of the surrounding wilderness. Mountains creep along the horizon in the distance, and the scent of pines drifts on the cool breeze, bringing me a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos.
The lull of birdsong echoes through the trees, and I close my eyes, remembering when I played in the woods as a little girl. Recalling a time when everything was easy and normal and the horrors of the world had yet to sink their claws in. My memories fast forward through the years, mostly filled with happiness, then come to a screeching halt when Rich makes his appearance in Euan’s apartment. From there, my life is a series of downfalls and terrors, Jude and Caleb the only bright lights. Grief threatens to consume me, sinking heavily in my chest at the thought of Caleb, but something shifts. A tiny ember of something hot and awful and angry sparks to life when I think of how unfair it all is, and I latch on to that. I fan the glowing specks until it grows into a full-blown fire because this feeling is manageable.
I stare out through the trees, and instead of the usual gut-churning fear that comes with the thought of seeing Tom again, I imagine the satisfaction that would come with putting a bullet in his head. The girl he thinks he broke is still standing, and when he comes for me, I’m going to be ready. If Jude doesn’t kill him, I will. I won’t be helpless to that man ever again.