I waited for him to leave before I let out a deep breath, feeling utterly deflated. Replaying the scene in the basement in my head, I wrapped my arms around myself as the whiff of his cologne lingered in my nostrils. I inhaled and held it in before releasing a shaky breath. The moment I saw him standing behind the monster that was trying to kill and violate me simultaneously, I thought I was hallucinating, a desperate figment of my imagination. But when he pulled the man away, I knew he was real, and I thought maybe he had followed me, still believing I was working with the people who had attacked him earlier. I tried not to dwell on the brutal way he had killed the man. There was a strange resolve in his eyes, devoid of emotion, almost inhuman. It shattered the illusion I had unconsciously crafted in my mind.
And now, knowing that he was friends with Mark, all the nights Mark came home with bruises and wounds replayed in my head. I swallowed hard. And then Mark's warning not to trust him, despite their friendship, sent alarm bells ringing in my mind. Perhaps Mark knew he was not a good person. Perhaps everything I had heard about the Donovans was true, and Mark was just being Mark, making sure I focused on the important matters. I realized then that I should have told Mark the truth about what had happened earlier. I should have let him know why those men had been following me. I wondered if Archer would, and I knew that would upset Mark. Letting out a sigh, I hurriedly peeled off my torn pajamas and went to the bathroom. As I caught sight of myself in the vanity mirror embedded in the side wall, my lips shook as I released another shaky sigh.
Red handprints were imprinted around my neck, and a long angry scratch marred the groove between my breasts. Blood stained my tan skin, splattered all over my front and face, some even matted in my hair. I stepped under the shower and allowed the unforgiving cold water to pelt my skin, washing away the blood and making my wounds sting. I wished I could have a hot bath, but we couldn't afford such luxuries for now. By the time I was done, scrubbing my skin vigorously, I was shivering from the cold. I quickly dried myself and wrapped my hair up in a thick towel. Hurrying to find a matching-colored hooded sweatshirt with joggers and a pair of black sneakers, I prepared myself for the next steps.
Bringing out a backpack, I packed two casual outfits, a dress, and some pajamas, stuffing them into the bag along with my toiletries in a smaller bag. It had become almost mechanical, something I had done countless times in my life. First, we had run from the authorities to avoid being taken under child protective programs and separated. Then, when Mark came of age, we did it for our safety.
Being constantly on the run had been a part of my young life, and I hated it. One of the happiest days of my life was when Mark told me we could come back home. When I asked about the authorities, he said they wouldn't bother us anymore because he was old enough to be my guardian. Then, I gathered the courage to ask about our mother and her despicable boyfriend. Mark told me they were gone and would never bother us again. I wondered what that really meant, but I didn't ask. If Mark said we were safe, then I trusted him.
The first few days back here had been tough, though. The house was just a shell, protecting us from the elements, but not entirely. Thankfully, we had the fireplace, and gradually, Mark started to fix things up. There was an unmarked grave about half a kilometer into the woods out back. I had seen Mark going in that direction with flowers several times, but I never went there. I had this feeling that beneath the dirt lay our mother. But I never asked. There was a lot of baggage in my childhood that I would rather not uncover. I had Mark, and that was enough.
After what seemed like forever, Mark opened the door and peered inside. "Hey," he said with a gentle tug at the corner of his lips.
"I'm ready," I said, my voice trembling.
"I can see that…" he replied, walking inside and shutting the door. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah," I replied. He nodded and let out a sigh. "What's wrong?"
"The men that attacked you, I need to make sure it doesn't happen again…"
"Mark…" I wanted to tell him that he was just one person, and those men were clearly dangerous. I didn't want him to get into trouble, and if anything bad happened to him, I would never forgive myself. I thought then that I should come right out and tell him the truth, I opened my mouth but he held up his hand to silence me.
"Hear me out, please," he said, pleadingly. I nodded.
"I don't know why they came here and how they found this place, and like you said, I can't be with you all the time. So, we…"
"We?" I interrupted.
"Archer and I thought that maybe you would like to stay at his house for a few days while we find out what the attack was about and make sure it doesn't happen again."
"I thought you didn't trust him," I said, my mind racing. The thought of staying in a place where I would constantly see Archer both excited and scared me to the core.
"I don't. Neither do I trust any of his family members, but right now, it's the best safety net for us," he explained. Then, he added in jest, "They have guards, and if shit hits the fan, there are a lot of people they have to get through to reach you."
I chuckled weakly. He grinned. "That's a terrible thing to say, Mark," I said.
He shrugged. "I'm being practical. So if it ever happens, and I'm not there, find your way back here…"
"And to the basement… I know the drill," I replied.
"Great. There's more to it, though…"
"What?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Tonight, Archer and Chad will help me drop you off at a hotel where you can stay for the night. Then, first thing in the morning, Chad will come and get you and take you to the Donovan's property for an interview…"
"Interview?" I exclaimed, shocked and bewildered.
"Yes, as Archer's nurse…" Mark's voice trailed off.
"WHAT?!" I shouted, unable to contain my surprise and confusion.