Strapped Down Read online

  “Taylor, you had this planned all along?”

  “Shyla, I made a promise that if I ever saw him again, if he ever laid a hand on you again, it would be the last time.”

  “What happened? I didn’t see.”

  “He pushed you and he raised his gun to shoot you. I had a gun, hidden, in the back of my waistband.” I can’t believe it. No, not Eric. I believed him.

  “But what if he didn’t do that? Were you going to go with him?”

  “I was going to do whatever it took, but I was going to come back to you.”

  Then I start to drift again, my body and mind unable to stay focused for long amidst dizzying series of the events. The man I shared french fries with yesterday died right in front of my eyes. My boyfriend, his brother, the killer. “We have to go. You need to get back to the house, and wait for me. I have to take care of business.”

  “No, I don’t want to leave you again.”

  “Shyla, it’s over. You are safe now for good.”

  He walks me to the other side of the field from where he emerged, then guides me through a path to get back to Harrison. They share a few words privately and then we drive off. No kisses, no warm hugs. He has to take care of business.

  ***

  There is a crumb on the kitchen counter. I stare at it wondering how it got there. Is that a toast crumb? Maybe crackers? Taylor wouldn’t have crackers for breakfast. Maybe he does when I’m not around the way I heat up frozen veggie burgers when he’s not around. Eventually, I plan to move from this spot, take a shower or something, but I don’t want to make any real decisions right now. I want to get to the bottom of out how this fucking crumb got here.

  Taylor said to go home and wait and so that is what I am doing.

  Between crumb contemplations, I run the scene over and over again wondering how we could have done something else, but the truth is someone had to die. All three of us were not walking out of that field as a result of some grand compromise. Eric said all he had left was vengeance; he had no family, no fiancé, no child. He was a fugitive. Maybe this was really a suicide by Taylor. I’ll never know because I was too busy falling infinitely into the grass when it happened. I shouldn’t feel badly. Should I? This man terrorized me and raped me. Right? He was just trying to turn me against Taylor with his denials and stories. He kidnapped me for fuck’s sake. But he made me laugh, and he was the nicest kidnapper ever. Seeing the life escape his eyes, I will have nightmares about those icy blues forever. Call me crazy, but killing just doesn’t sit as well with me as it seems to do with Taylor.

  I stink. I want a shower so bad, but I won’t move from this spot, it’s too safe.

  The front door opens and slams shut. I stand at attention, ready to see a remorseful Taylor, overwhelmed by what he has done, the adrenaline worn off from his earlier encounter. But his footsteps are fast, they are not dragging like that of a downtrodden man.

  “Shyla! Shy—“ He comes upon me at the kitchen. “Come here,” he’s manic, in an almost jovial way. “We have to get you out of these clothes and dispose of them,” he says, unbuttoning my shirt frantically. “You have no idea Shyla. When he answered the phone.” he kisses me for the first time since Eric kidnapped me. All over my face, my neck. He pulls off my shirt. I stink. “I missed your smell,” as if on cue.

  “Taylor, what’s going on? Where’s Eric?”

  “He’s gone,” he says, picking me up by my behind and sitting me on the counter. “We’re free.” Oh my god, he’s… happy.

  “Gone? Taylor…” You killed your brother, your parents will never have the chance to see him again, and all you can say is we’re free?

  He pulls off my stained and worn jeans. “Shyla, when he told me he had you, when I saw you standing there with the gun to your head, the life we would never have together, the children we would never have, it all hit me so hard.” He is saying all the right things, the things I would want to hear and I lap it up like a sweet nectar, the juices dripping down my cheeks and onto my collarbone. “I’m going to take some time off, and we’re going to travel the world. We are going to make a life together,” he says in one breath. He pulls off his shirt and I wrap my legs around his bare waist. He carries me to the bedroom, then to the shower in the master bath. It rains over us, and I can feel the filth of today run off of my body. I stare emptily at the swirls of dirty water disappearing into the drain.

  “Shyla, when you told me about Lyla, I thought if that was the last time we saw each other I would regret it for the rest of my life.” He kisses a trail down my stomach, and then rolls his tongue inside of my labia. I roll my eyes up in pleasure, but it feels so wrong, morally. Taylor, your brother is dead. You took a life today, and you’re turned on?

  He pauses and stands in front of me, his wet lips kissing mine. “Shyla, you did the right thing. We did the right thing. Eric was going to be a dark cloud over us forever even if we all somehow survived. He lost his way a long time ago.” He pulls me close to him, and he’s really fucking hard. He’s so bad, he’s such bad fucking news. “It’s you and me Shyla. It’s always been. He pushes me up against the cold shower tile, kissing my neck and we both let out a gasp as he enters me. “I did this because I love you. It’s more than love though, it’s something else because I don’t think this is what people talk about when they talk about love. I want to give you everything. I will do anything for you.” The image of a beautiful dark-haired baby having the childhood we never did flashes in my mind’s eye.

  “I know what you mean,” I say as he smoothly thrusts in and out of me.

  He is infected.

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