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17

Catherine Parker’s cheek was burning as she pushed the trolley through the aisles in the supermarket. Her little girl had wanted something- it was just that she couldn’t remember what it had been. Her head hurt so much where her husband’s fist had struck her. She could imagine that the bruise was already visible, but she didn’t dare look, for it would make her feel even more uncomfortable with herself.

She tugged at her dress self-consciously and tried to ignore the prying looks of the other shoppers as they passed her and probably wondered what the heck had happened to her face. Maybe they could even imagine and despised her as weak because she didn’t dare leave her husband, didn’t dare to press charges against him. But they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand where she lived, what she lived with and what catastrophe had just occurred.

She couldn’t believe it had happened. After all this time she had tried to forget all about it herself, had denied it time and again just to make herself believe it. And she had nearly succeeded.

She absently picked up a package of cornflakes and looked at it with blind eyes, unable to decipher what brand it was. She didn’t care anyway since she couldn’t imagine ever eating anything again. It felt as if her throat was constricted and as if she would never be able to force anything down it again.

Tears welled up in her eyes when a little old lady approached her, sympathy written all over her wrinkled face. She touched Catherine’s arm, but she didn’t seem to feel anything else than the numbing pain in her cheek. The gentleness of that touch was completely lost on her.

You should press charges, dear. There are ways...” the old lady stated quietly, anxious not to let anyone hear her.

You don’t understand,” Catherine heard herself say in an unfamiliar husky little voice. “I am notoriously clumsy. I bumped into... something.”

She felt so stricken that she was unable to come up with an excuse or a believable story and a tear trickled down her cheek, when the woman’s eyebrows came together in a worried frown.

Just be careful, darling,” she said.

She should have been careful years ago, she thought and brusquely turned away, anxious to flee the situation.

Her head hurt so much. So much. She was really disorientated and had trouble focusing her eyes properly. The blow must have been harder than she remembered it. Just outside the supermarket, she stumbled, one bag dropping to the floor. Apples were rolling across the street and Catherine cried out in surprise when suddenly a hand grabbed her arm.

Catherine,” a gentle voice said and when she looked up, she found herself enveloped in Sydney’s kindness. “What happened to you?” he asked worriedly and she couldn’t help but sink into his arms, sobbing violently. “My little girl,” she cried. “My little girl!”

And her head hurt. It hurt so much.

 


Jarod was trembling with shock, but he was also used to making quick decisions so he scooped Miss Parker up in his arms before she could crumple to the floor. His heart was racing with worry but he forced himself to stay as calm as he could. He slipped once on the way to the house, cursing himself for his trembling arms and jelly legs.

She wasn’t heavy, but she was tall so that he had trouble maneuvering them back into the hall because her long legs seemed to always be in the way.

The silence that enveloped them once he was inside came as a startling change to the loud noises of the rain outside and Jarod noticed his rattling breath for the first time. After that short moment of relative calm, all hell broke loose. The old staircase creaked under the hurried feet of Marcus and Angela as they came running towards Jarod.

“Oh my god! I saw her fall from the window upstairs!” Angela exclaimed and approached them with a horrified look on her face when she saw the blood trickling down Miss Parker’s elegant white neck.

“Is she unconscious?” Marcus asked in a business-voice, gently shoving his cousin aside to gain access to Miss Parker who still remained absolutely motionless.

“She just fell and she’s not been conscious at all since she was hit,” Jarod rasped, desperate to wash his fear down with a glass water since his throat felt like sandpaper.

“You need to lay her down so I can have a look at her,” Marcus commanded and Angela motioned for them to follow her when she lead the way towards her personal quarters.

“You can put her in my bedroom.”

Angela’s personal space consisted of a living room with large windows overlooking the garden and a smaller bedroom that was dominated by a queen-sized bed Jarod now gently lowered Miss Parker onto.

Her arms and legs were so limp that he felt like maneuvering a giant rag-doll and the furious red of the blood made for a stark contrast against the milky whiteness of her skin.

“Angela, go to my car and get my emergency-kit. It’s in the trunk.”

Angela accepted the keys and disappeared down the stairs again while Marcus pulled the blankets over Miss Parker’s body to keep her warm despite he fact that her clothes were soaked. He then brushed her matted hair from her face and turned her head slightly. The hair on the back of her head stuck to her skull with the wetness of rain and blood.

“Go get me a wet cloth, Jarod.” Marcus looked grim as he looked up at Jarod to emphasize his point. “Now!”

Quickly, Jarod hurried to the adjoining bathroom and frantically began to search the cupboard for the requested items. He had his share of medical knowledge himself, but with all the blood and Marcus in the way he wasn’t able to tell how bad the wound was.

What if she would never wake up? What if she lost too much blood? What if she had severe brain damage? He finally got his hands on a cloth and filled a bowl with water, then hurried back, dripping water all over Angela’s carpet in his frenzy.

Marcus accepted the cloth with a curt nod and began to clean the wound, examining it.

“This won’t need stitches...” he murmured. “Looks like the rock only grazed her. She was damn lucky.”

Why did he sound so grim? Jarod suddenly thought while relief flooded him at the same time. From Marcus’ words he could conclude that she would be okay, but his tone of voice seemed to indicate the opposite. So grim...

“Angela keeps painkillers in a drawer in her office on the second floor. Can you please get some? Miss Parker will need them as she will surely have one hell of a headache when she wakes up.”

Jarod nodded and resisted the urge to touch Miss Parker’s arm once again just to reassure himself that her skin was still warm. With trembling legs and one last look at the unconscious woman on the bed he turned away and left.

 


Angela grabbed the emergency kit from Marcus’ car’s immaculately tidy trunk and hurried back towards the house that loomed over her in the falling dusk. It was a beautiful building but situations like these and the twilight always served to make it appear imposing and almost intimidating.

She grabbed the case harder and walked through the door. Why was this house so damn huge? She’d been gone for too long already and the fact that she had had to search the right key in the multitude of different keys on Marcus’ key ring hadn’t made it any easier. He should have really remembered to tell her which one it was!

She was out of breath and she could hear the rattling in her lungs that she owed to the years of chain-smoking that she had mercifully given up so many years ago. The stairs seemed steeper than usual and the landing too far away. She paused for breath. Why hadn’t Marcus sent Jarod?

Finally she turned the corner of the corridor and tried to push through the door. It was closed and she swore, still in shock and anxious about Miss Parker’s state, then turned the knob with some difficulty.

A high-pitched scream from the bedroom startled her and made her drop the case and make a dash for the door. The image that greeted her was disturbing.

Miss Parker lay on her back on the bed under the covers and her white pillow was stained with fresh blood that made Angela’s hands shake violently. Next to her was Marcus, holding a second pillow, inches from Miss Parker’s mouth and nose. Behind him stood Jenny who had been the source of the scream. Tears were spilling down her cheeks while she was pulling at the man’s arm to no avail.

“Don’t! Don’t! She hasn’t done anything to you!” Jenny sobbed, distress making her voice quiver.

Angela felt her eyes widen and shock paralyze her whole body. She wasn’t able to move, wasn’t even able to breathe properly. She suddenly felt incredibly sick. Stumbling backwards, her mouth gaped open and she tried to get the words out, but unable to. Her voice was gone and she the first tears running down her cheeks.

She fell back against the doorframe the same instant that Jarod burst in and hauled himself at Marcus, pushing poor Jenny aside in the process. It was a silent struggle that was only interrupted by Marcus trying to say something. Angela watched as the usually gentle Jarod hit her cousin’s face with some force and wrestled the pillow out of his hands.

“I should have known it was you!” Jarod finally yelled. “I should have known all along! What has she done to you? Turned you down?”

Marcus’ face was ghastly pale and Jenny’s sobs filled the room. The blond girl hurried towards Angela and threw her arms around her.

“I was going to look for you!” she said. “And I found him like this!”

“You wanted to kill her, bastard!” Jarod slapped Marcus hard as he tried to say something and Angela saw blood trickle from her cousin’s mouth.

The urge to cry was overwhelming but shock kept her from bursting into tears. The world seemed to be spinning and she was glad that Jenny had gently begun to stroke her forearm.

“Get her out of here!” Jarod said. “And call the police!”

 


It was scotch again but Jenny had insisted Angela didn’t drink it straight but mixed with hot milk for which Angela was grateful since she would be drunk by now if she had gone through with her initial plan.

She had wrapped her hands around the hot cup and although the heat had burned her, had kept holding on. The pain helped her focus on the horrors that had become her reality. If not for Jenny’s coming in, her very own cousin whom she would have trusted with her life, would have killed Miss Parker in cold blood. Suffocated her and passed her off as having died from her head-injuries. She winced, feeling very sick again.

How could she have been so wrong? How could she not have noticed how off he had been lately, how much Miss Parker must have reminded him of the love he’d lost? She closed her eyes but couldn’t seem to keep them closed with all the adrenaline that was racing through her bloodstream. It felt as if she’d had far too much coffee or popped a handful of caffeine pills

She finally let go of the cup and felt the relief immediately. She hadn’t noticed how bad the pain had been until it had suddenly lessened. Burying her head in her hands, for the first time in years she wished for a cigarette.

 


Jarod was still trembling with rage. Upon being pushed into the police car, Marcus had refused to talk without an attorney present and Jarod thought it was just as well. What could he have said to defend himself?

This time he had insisted on treating Miss Parker himself, had taken care of her wound and changed the blood-stained sheets of the bed and Miss Parker into dry pyjamas. Touching her naked skin had felt like an intrusion, not as good as it had last time when they had ripped each other’s clothes off in an aroused frenzy. He had felt guilty even. Things between them hadn’t been resolved by a simple kiss, as passionate as it might have been.

Her hand was safe between his and he raised it up to his lips to gently kiss it. What had he got her into again? Why was it, that when he tried to help her he always got her worse off? He turned her palm up and followed the red scar with his fingertips, caressing it as if that would make it go away, as if it would undo the pain he had inflicted on her along with the pain she had inflicted on herself with the knife that night.

Contrary to what Miss Parker thought, Jarod was no stranger to guilt. He had been a child when he had done simulations that had led to assassinations, to murder and other unspeakable crimes, but his brilliant mind had kept the memories alive.

Sometimes they hit him without him summoning them up. Simulations that felt so real that it felt as if he himself had killed those people. Sometimes he stared at his hands and imagined them full of blood. He came awake screaming at night because he had dreamed about how his simulations had been put into action.

Sometimes he could almost make himself believe that there was nothing to feel guilty about because he had not known what he was doing, what he was contributing to, what the Centre would use his results for. But then sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t recognized evil when it had stared him in the eye.

In those times he used to call Sydney or torment Miss Parker a bit to have himself believe that he was actually doing something to avenge all those crimes he had made possible.

Compared to him, Miss Parker who embodied the whole concept of a bad person, looked as innocent as an angel. She hadn’t caused people’s deaths or broken families. She was just chasing after him, doing a tiresome job that she hated. She was just trying to cover up her insecurities by her rough exterior to avoid getting hurt again.

Her soft voice startled him out of his reminiscence.

“What kind of hangover is this?”

He gave an involuntary snort of hysterical laughter.

“It is none. You’ve been hit by a rock.”

She rolled her eyes and for a moment he thought she was slipping back into unconsciousness, but then her eyes focused back on him.

“Who?” she asked weakly and he could see her disdain at her own weakness in her eyes.

“Marcus,” Jarod growled.

“Marcus?” Miss Parker sounded as if she didn’t quite believe it, then her eyes closed again. Those few words seemed to have exhausted her enough to go back to sleep and he was glad they didn’t have to discuss the situation just now since it would have just sent him into another fit of rage. His fists still hurt from ramming them into Marcus’ face.

“You won’t go away again, will you?” she whispered, eyes closed, voice barely audible.

“You will never be alone,” he promised and placed his cool hand onto her forehead. She sighed contently and very gently squeezed his hand back.

“Good.”

 


Angela gently washed the blood from Miss Parker’s temple with a wet cloth. She was always pale, but now her skin looked almost translucent. Angela dropped the cloth back into its bowl and the water slowly turned a light red.

Carefully, she ran her hand over Miss Parker’s wet hair to smooth it back from her face and looked at the wound that Jarod had managed to take care of quite well even though he had been beside himself and his hands had been shaking violently.

It seemed that the rock had only grazed her head but if she hadn’t turned her head towards Jarod that exact moment, she would have been hit full front and Angela didn’t want to imagine what would have happened then.

She looked down at Miss Parker’s motionless face and felt a flicker of a nagging feeling inside her. Why had Marcus thrown the rock at her? Had she been the target or had it been Jarod? But if it hadn’t been her, why had he tried to suffocate her?

Jarod had come back for Miss Parker although he had hinted at running away from her when he had called Angela to say goodbye. She had seen them kissing in the rain from the window and they had looked as if they were made for each other. Was that the reason Marcus in what must be a clouded, deranged mind, had aimed to kill her?

Gently she stroked Miss Parker’s arm and suddenly felt an almost motherly feeling for her. For some reason she felt that the unconscious woman in front of her needed nothing more than a mother. She wondered whether she’d grown up without one. Neither Jarod nor Miss Parker had ever hinted at it, but something in Miss Parker that was only detectable for a woman who had worked with orphans all her life, struck her.

She gently pressed her lips to Miss Parker’s still cold forehead and then looked towards the door where Jarod had just appeared to reclaim the spot at Miss Parker’s beside.


He stood in the doorway, shaking with a feeling so vibrant that it threatened to overwhelm him. His insides felt wrenched but at the same time a comforting, yet dangerous heat began to seep through his body at the sight of the woman and the child in her arms.

 

Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and her smile seemed to sparkle while she was still unaware of his presence. Her finger carefully traced the baby’s round cheek while she looked at it with such wonder in her eyes.

He leaned against the doorframe, his strength almost leaving him. For a moment he wasn’t sure he would be able to stay upright, but then the feeling of weakness passed and he loosened his grip.

What was he to do? How was he to manage this?

She looked up at his muffled groan that didn’t convey the half of the trouble he was feeling and smiled, a little less happily now.

Come and see,” she beckoned him and he followed although he didn’t want to. As usual she drew him towards her like a moth to a flame. And fire usually burned people.

He sat down next to her on the couch as she had indicated and forced himself to look at the little girl’s face. She was beautiful and there was already something of her mother in her eyes.

How does your husband feel about her?” he asked without preamble, then regretted his words immediately.

She turned towards him with an intent stare. “He is never to know, do you understand?”

He did- although it felt like a knife carving though his body.

Marcus looked up as his attorney entered the room and rose to shake the man’s hand.





Chapter End Notes:
... to be continued ...





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