7,268Chapter Twenty Six
Danielle's fingers continued to tap erratically against the phone. Okay, should I call or should I wait – but what if I call and then he calls and then we overlap and we get a busy signal and then we try again and we continue in this crazed unending cycle – and why, oh why couldn't I be worrying over this problem because of an evil uncalling boyfriend instead of Sammy's evil nasty kidnapping uncle – oh, how I wish it was so simple and carefree – I will never ever complain again about such a mundane thing as my love –
She jerked, spluttering, when the phone rang. Her hand was on the phone and yet, she still managed to fumble with it. "Hello?" She coughed.
"Baby?"
Chills crested over her spine.
"If I'm a baby, then you must still be an unfertilized egg wallowing in your mother's womb," Danielle snapped.
"Oh honey, you're only older than me by what? A couple of months?"
"Yeah, if a couple of months mean two years."
"Eh. I like my women mature anyway."
"Well, gee, that's good because that's how I like my men too so I guess that crosses you out on my list, little boy."
"I was on your list?"
"Caine . . ."
"Baby . . ."
"Oh, for crying out – how can you still act like this? Will you just shut up already and tell me what's going on?"
"Alright, alright, just trying to lighten up the mood –"
"Caine . . ."
"Alright, you can expect Vincent for an early visit."
"Vincent's coming home?"
"Yeah. He wanted to speak to your mother – well, if speaking can be another term for raging, screaming, and possible throwing of heavy objects."
"Oh shit."
"Yeah. He talked with the Headmaster, got this scary red glint to his eyes according to Will, and stormed out. I'm currently with Jack and Will in Tristan's car, though I'm not sure we're going to get there anytime soon to prevent the Son versus Mama Grenford throwdown."
"Oh shit."
"Um, yeah. So, uh, relax and try to exchange all hard covered books for fluffy pillows in the near vicinity, yeah?"
"Oh shit."
"Um, are you going to be okay? Okay, that was a stupid question. We're going as fast as we can, but you know, we don't want any further impediments by the cops or anything and – are you going to be alright? Oh, crap, dumb question repeat again. Sorry, I can't seem to stop myself. It's like the only thing I'm thinking -"
"Oh shit."
"Danielle? Are you alright?"
"Please hurry."
"Are you okay?"
"Shit shit shittity shit."
"Um . . ."
"Vincent apparently just walked in and from the sound of that crash, I don't think our front door survived."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"What is the meaning of this?" Katherine's eyes blazed down at the lobby as she clutched the railing of the stairs from the second floor.
Her son returned an equally fiery glare. "Just thought to announce my homecoming, Mom."
"Shouldn't you be at school?"
"Shouldn't you be off aiding kidnappers and wrecking other people's relationships?"
"What in the world are you blathering about?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you were too busy and important to remember the affairs of us little people. You probably have to run around all day long, the events a mere colorful blur in your mind. I'll try to jog your noggin a little then. Does Sam Westlane ring any bells for you, Mother?" He cocked his head, his eyes dark and unblinking.
She pressed her lips together. "What about it?"
If it was even possible, his eyes darkened further. He took a step and jerked his arms out of his jacket in short abrupt motions, yanking at the sleeves before dropping it to the floor. He stood there in his black shirt and jeans, just taking a moment to catch his breath even though he hadn't done any particularly strenuous exercise. He just stood and tried to collect his thoughts. Then he said, "Why?"
Her fingers tightened on the polished wood, but her voice remained unfazed. "For you."
Bitter laughter made her flinch. "Please, Mother. Please! Since when have you ever done things for me?"
Her chest tightened and a roaring sound in her ears seemed to distance the whole scene. She brought her fist slamming down against the banister. She ignored the jolt of pain and she roared, "Everything, Vincent! Everything! I've always done everything I could for you and your sister. Up to this point, I've always lived and worked for the two of you and you say that I haven't done anything for you?"
His lips pulled back as he tilted his head, appraising her with an almost lazy glance. "Oh, right. We appeared to have had this conversation before, haven't we? I say no and you say yes, wasn't it? You believe you're World's Finest Mom and I, well, don't think so."
Danielle chose that moment to come sliding into the lobby. Her eyes darted back and forth between her brother and her mother as her teeth nagged at her bottom lip.
"Exactly what have I done wrong this time, Vincent?"
"You know what you did."
She threw up her hands. "Is this all about that Sam? Would you just grow up already? How can you just lose your head over –"
He snarled, "Sam is a girl! Sam is my girlfriend! Sam – Sammy is in danger and you just pushed her into the very arms that had her running and hiding away from all this time. You just vouched for the honor of a pedophile – of a sick, old man who has an inclination for incest and a taste for his brother's daughter! Can you tell me now that I have no reason to get so upset, Mother?"
Katherine's fingers quivered, but she remained stolid as she stared down into her son's face.
As Vincent watched his mother and the reaction – or rather, lack of reaction – in her face, he paled and his stomach felt pummeled. His hands ran through his hair, along his temple, around his cheeks, and over his mouth repeatedly as he blinked. "You knew."
She said nothing and the silence pierced him.
"You knew. You knew! You knew that she was a girl and that the bastard – you knew and you did nothing?"
She raised her chin and kept her posture.
"Oh, no. Right. You did do something." He stalked back and forth in front of the stairs before whirling around to jab a finger up at her. "You chose to send her back to him!"
Katherine's tone was sharp. "I'm sure Frank Westlane is not really completely at fault here. You must know that a young girl has the tendency to exaggerate and –"
"Oh, please!"
"No, just shut up for once! Vincent, would you just listen? A nice, respectable girl will never behave like Samantha did –"
"Oh, and I'm sure a nice, respectable girl gets abused by her uncle every day too –"
"Listen! If she had been such a smart, good little girl, why didn't she go to the police and had everything sorted out? No. She chose to run away and enroll herself into an all boys school. Now what does that tell you about her character, hmm? Do you honestly think that she's an innocent darling who never ever thought about trying to secure herself one of you rich little boys? Oh, Vincent, why can't you see? You've all been deceived by her!"
He growled, "It's not like that! She tried to find someone, but all the police in the vicinity believed in her uncle and -"
She scoffed. "Do you know how pathetic that sounds?"
His eyes narrowed. "Well, what do you know? We've all been born with money and power. What could you possibly know about an orphan desperate to find some place safe?"
"And what do you know?"
He dropped his hands and looked up at his mother. His eyes dropped to the floor and he leaned over to pick up his jacket. "Me?" He straightened up. His smile was weary as he shrugged. "I know that she needs me and that I need her." He started walking to the door as he flapped a hand over his shoulder. "Bye, Danielle."
Danielle stepped forward. "Vincent!"
"Just where do you think you're going?" Katherine demanded. "If you dare try to find that girl, I can assure you that even if you manage to see her, you will never be able to take her away. Between Frank Westlane and my explanations to the authorities, they will never listen to your story about some uncle smuggling his niece away. You won't even take a step into his house before the securities haul you back here. Just give up on her! She's not worth this, Vincent! Vincent!"
Vincent didn't even bother responding. He took a step out of the house and let the door slam shut behind him.
He walked down the driveway just as a car pulled up to the end of the street. Tristan rolled down the window and waved at him. "Get in. We don't need two cars."
Vincent stared at the boy for a moment before making his way toward the car. He opened the passenger side and slipped into the seat. As Tristan pulled away from the curb, the dark haired boy managed a "Thanks."
Tristan nodded.
"Yeah, besides, more cars equal more time spent on finding two parking spaces."
Silence. "Gee. Thanks, Will."
"Anytime, boys. Anytime. My logic is your logic."
"What?"
"You know, mi casa su casa. My house is your house. My brain is your brain. My body is your –"
"Enough already!"
Terry stared up at the ceiling. It was basically all he could do these days anyway. Between tracing the path of shadows along the walls with his eyes and sleeping fitfully, the only other pastime he had was to think. A lot.
Unfortunately, his head was throbbing again in a steady beat that made him want to smash his fist against his temples and scream "Stop that racket!" His head positively pulsated whenever he tried to remember the details of his accident and with the failure, came the frustration, which only seemed to exacerbate the pain. Oh, it was a vicious cycle indeed. A most vicious, vicious – Just stop pounding! I hate you, brain! I would melt you like a stick of butter and slather my popcorn with you if I didn't need you so much!
He closed his eyes. I am sorry, Sammy. I have turned crazy. Forgive me.
A sudden loud crash from the far side of the room made his eyes snap open. A glaring beam of light blinded him and he instinctively squinted. His heart slammed against his ribcages in an abnormally thundering pace and his breathing was harsh to his ears.
The nurse who had tried to open the shutters at the windows for a bit of light covered her mouth. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. Did I wake you? I didn't know the blinds would snap upward like that. I swear we have to redecorate this hospital and replace some of these . . ."
But Terry wasn't paying attention to her. His pulse boiled as repressed memories resurfaced. Blaring horns. Bright light. Deafening. Blinding. Headlights too close to us. Swerving. Spinning. Dad's alarm. Mom's panic. My fear. A sickening crunch of metal. Pain. Pain. Pain. And lights that faded. Sounds that died away. Pulling away. Driving away.
And Terry knew why.
For a while, they coasted along the roads as the sky turned red orange and the sun wavered along the horizon.
Then William spoke up, "I know you guys told me to be quiet so you can think –"
"Quiet, Will."
"Yes, I know, but –"
"Shhh."
"Would love to shhh for you anytime, but um, where exactly are we going?"
Silence.
"And for that matter, where does Frank Westlane live anyway?"
Silence.
Tristan and Vincent sighed. "Ah hell."
"Ah ha! Once again, I have stunned you with my cunning logic –"
"Yes, Will. O' Great Master, we're sorry we told you to shush. Now, do you have any idea about the whereabouts of the bastard?" Jack interrupted.
"Duh."
"Please, do tell," Caine drawled.
"Hold on, Grasshoppers."
Vincent closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window as the sound of rummaging traveled from the backseat. Then he rammed the glass with a loud thud. Thud. I am so sorry, Sammy. Thud. Why are we such a group of idiots? Thud. I promise you though – as soon as Will gives us the info, we'll come for you -
Ring. Click. "Hello, Operator?"
Silence.
"Yes, hi. My name is Will and I would like to find out –"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
She liked the darkness. She liked the heady, encompassing feeling of the shadows – that they could swallow her up whole and that she will finally be safe and secluded amidst the inky blackness. She liked being able to close her eyes to night and know that she will open them to night. It meant stability, something that's been hard to come by in such a long time. Vincent. Yes.
When the door creaked open and a sliver of pale light slipped into the room, she suddenly felt very much like a stranded cockroach – yearning to hide, but lost without a place to fold into. She closed her eyes tightly. When she was younger, she used to think that as long as she didn't see something, then that something wouldn't be able to see her. It was a foolish, childish notion, but it never pained her so much until this very moment to know that it really was all faked.
She felt another shadow fall over her, but she knew that it was not the same comforting darkness and she continued to tense as it moved closer with steady footsteps. Backed up in the farthest corner of the room, she huddled with her arms wrapped around her legs and pressed her eyes into her knees.
She heard a tsk and felt his grubby fingers run through her hair. She jerked her head back and bared her teeth.
Frank Westlane's lips tightened and she sucked in a deep breath as he fisted a chunk of her hair and yanked. He slammed her face into the wall again and again until she saw stars and blood coursed from her nose. He released her and she barely had the time to straighten up before he cracked the back of his hand across her face, sending her reeling into the corner again.
She scrabbled for a grip, her shaking hands alternating from woozily wiping at the blood and smoothing her hair back. It was always an attempt to make her self look stronger than she felt while simultaneously trying to hide her examination for possible head wounds. None today. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Half the times, she wanted to survive so that she might escape again even though he'd clearly learned and made sure to double the locks on her door and smuggle her into a room without anyone noticing, including his own household employees. It was this knowledge that fueled her bleakness and the other half of the times when she wished that she could just die from a fatal injury by his hands.
He shook his head and his voice softened. "Samantha, sweetheart. Look at you, all covered in blood. I could have given you all the finery in the world, if you had only just listened to me. All I asked for was your companionship, your respect, your love. Must you be so selfish?"
She coughed. "Just leave me alone."
He murmured, "Is your nose broken? Oh dear, you shouldn't have pushed me. Oh good, it looks straight. It doesn't seem to be broken. The blood is already waning. Isn't that good? I would have hated for you to live the rest of your days with a crooked nose."
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Just go away!"
His eyes hardened. "After all this time, how can you still not understand my feelings? If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have spent all this time looking for you and worrying about you. I love you –"
She punched him. She kicked, scratched, elbowed, pounded. She spat, "Shut up! Don't make me throw up, you sick old –"
He grabbed her and pressed his weight against her body, forcing her against the wall. He tightened his fingers around her throat and snarled, "It seems like that Grenford boy's been a bad influence on you, Samantha." She wheezed, tugging at his hands. "You never used to talk to me like this. What happened to your fear? To your quiet composure? He turned you from a lady to a whore!"
She flailed and her nails left a long gouge along his neck. He hissed and kneed her in the gut before dropping her to the ground. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as she breathed. Vince. Vince. Vince. Her eyes stung and her voice came out in harsh sobs. She hated these tears. Tears that came when she felt especially enraged. Tears that couldn't be stopped and left her feeling even more hopeless. She choked, "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm your freaking niece! Can't you get that through your head?"
"You're mine. Your mother should have been mine. Everything should have been mine. I've been given a second chance. Don't you see? You're here for me. You're mine. My compensation for all the injustice in my life. You're mine."
"Freak. Lunatic. Sicko! Why did my parents have to die while you crazy bastard is still living?" She screamed even as tears poured down her cheeks. She heaved dragging breaths, her chest quivering. "Why c – can't you j – just leave me alone? Please?"
Frank Westlane shook his head. "But Samantha, you don't understand. I need you."
She shook her head. "There are so many redheads out there. There must be someone who will agree to spend her life with you. With - with your money and your – your - isn't there someone? Isn't that better than holding me against my will? Don't you want someone who will love you?"
His eyes darkened. "No. You really don't understand. Samantha, there can't be any other. Only you."
"But why?" She wanted to scream and hurt him. She wanted to kill him.
He continued to shake his head. "Only you, Samantha. Even I didn't have a choice in the matter. It was all in fate's hands. Just accept it."
She stared at him, her head still aching and her cheeks still smeared with blood.
"I need you, Samantha."
© Copyright 2003 Maeven (FictionPress ID:349779). Reposted 01/04/2009. All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Maeven.