Firethorne

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Damien

I walked into the apartment, holding my bags, expecting to see Maya on the sofas, but she wasn’t there. So, I headed to the kitchen to put the food away and make a start on today’s task to help Maya rehabilitate and heal, my way. When I walked through the door, I found her sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a black coffee and looking like she hadn’t slept in a week. There were dark rings around her eyes, and she sat hunched over, her shoulders sagging and her eyes downcast.

When she saw me, she brightened up a little, sitting up on her stool and watching intently as I placed the bags on the counter and started to unpack everything.

“Good morning,” she said, stifling a yawn. “What have you got there? The flesh of your enemies?”

"I wish." I smirked, taking a carving knife from the bag and stabbing it into one of the steaks. “Serving my enemies up as the main course sounds right up my alley.”

The way she flinched at my stabbiness made me realise she actually believed me. God, I was good at this villain shit.

“So, what’ll it be?” I asked her. “Rare, medium-rare, well done?”

“What?” she replied with an incredulous look on her face.

“How do you like your steak cooked?”

She didn’t reply right away. Just stared at me like I’d spoken a foreign language.

“Why are you cooking me steak?” she asked, mistrust swimming in her eyes.

“Because you’re looking pale, Maya,” I replied plainly as I unpacked the rest of the groceries. “And I thought I could cook something healthier for you, build up your strength.” And turning to give her a pointed stare, I added, “You’ll need it.”

She ignored me and shot back, “How am I supposed to eat a steak when there’s no cutlery here? Everything is paper or plastic. Paper plates, plastic cups...”

“I have steak knives,” I announced, pulling them from the bag and holding them up.

“And you trust me to use those to eat... and not to stab you and escape?”

The fact she was still fighting made me smile, and I slid a knife across the counter towards her and took slow steps over to her, holding my arms out. “If you want to stab me, I won’t stop you.” She picked up the knife, and I took a few more steps to stand directly in front of her. “You have to do what you feel is the right thing for you.” She held the knife out in front of her, but from the resignation on her face, I knew she’d never do it. Not to me. “So go on then,” I urged. “Fight me, if that’s what you think you need to do.” I reached forward and picked up her hand that was holding the knife, putting it against my chest as she gasped.

“I couldn’t stab someone,” she announced. “I could never hurt another person like that.”

“And that’s what makes you different to everyone else in my life,” I replied. “Because you actually have a soul.”

I spent the afternoon preparing the meal for her, occasionally stopping to check my emails and messages. She pretended she was reading, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye, watching me as I watched her sitting on the kitchen stool.

“Do you need any help with that?” she’d asked a few times.

And every time I’d replied, “It’s all in hand. You don’t need to do anything. I like cooking.”

She always responded with a slight scowl that indicated she didn’t believe me. There were a lot of things about me that she probably wouldn’t believe.

Once the steaks were cooked to perfection, with the vegetables and accompanying sauces ready, I set up the small dining table in the corner of the living area and called her over to eat.

She sat down, sighing as she breathed in the scents and proclaimed, “This smells delicious.” But she cut her meat up into tiny slices and nibbled like she thought I might’ve poisoned the damn thing.

I dropped my knife and fork onto the table a little too dramatically and stated, “I came here to feed you because you’re looking pale, Maya.” She stared at me, not saying a word as she chewed the smallest mouthful. “So stop eating like a fucking rabbit and dig in. The steak isn’t gonna kill you.”

“No,” she said as she swallowed. “The steak might not kill me, but you might.”

I paused, my fork in midair, holding a prime cut of steak. “If I was gonna kill you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?” I retorted, then ate the food from my fork as I glared back at her, chewing and savouring the taste as fire burned inside me.

“Then answer this,” she asked, placing her cutlery on the plate, leaning her elbows on the table, and then resting her chin on her entwined fingers. “Why am I still here? Why are you keeping me locked up?” She leaned forward a little, darkness clouding her face as she whispered, “And who the fuck was in the apartment last night, trying to fuck with my head?”

I almost choked on my steak, and I dropped my own cutlery onto my plate as I replied, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrowed as she gritted her teeth, seething, “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play with me.”

I mirrored her stance, leaning across the table as I said, “Are you telling me you thought someone was in here last night?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she snapped. “I know what I saw.”

I didn’t want to tell her about the cameras. But I was damn sure I’d be checking them out as soon as I could. I’d watched a little of the footage from last night, but after she’d gone to bed, I’d stopped watching. But the windows and doors were alarmed. If anyone had even attempted to breach my security, I’d have been alerted to it. No one had been in here. But I kept cool, my expression unreadable as I asked her, “Then tell me exactly what it was that you saw.”

She began explaining how she was having trouble sleeping, that she’d come into the living room during the storm and found her book had been moved. That was something I didn’t read into. She could’ve easily left it like that herself and forgotten.

Then she told me about the dark figure behind her. A figure that disappeared when she’d turned around. And how she’d barricaded herself into her bedroom but woke to find a figure standing over her, despite the chair she’d placed in front of the door remaining unmoved. She was spooked, on edge, and once she’d offloaded it all to me and let out a deep breath, her body relaxed slightly as the weight of what she was carrying subsided a little.

I told her, “First, you are safe here. No one could’ve gotten into this apartment without setting off all sorts of alarms that would’ve alerted me and Trent. And if I find any breach when I assess it all in a moment, I will stop at nothing to put it right. But second, I believe you. You saw something last night, and you were right to be scared. I will look into it, but I think you need to remember how powerful the mind can be. Especially one that’s been through the trauma you’re going through. You’re bound to be on edge. And under stress, you will see things, experience things that might upset you. I’m here to help you, Maya.”

“Whether it’s real or not, I can’t sleep. I can’t handle being locked up in here, not knowing what’s happened to my father, or what could happen next. I feel like a sitting duck. You have to let me go.”

I wasn’t going to let her go. That was out of the question. But I’d do what I could to get her through this.

“I’ve already told you, it’s not safe for you to leave now. I’m working on getting you out of here, but it takes time. To escape, you need a new passport, a new identity, cash and a place to run to. I can’t put that into place overnight.”

It was already in place, but I’d never let on about that.

“And my father?” she asked, the faintest glimmer of hope still shining in her eyes.

“Is long gone,” I replied. “He isn’t coming to save you, Maya.”

I had my suspicions that he wasn’t here anymore, as in, my father had gotten to him and silenced him for eternity. And I didn’t believe in an afterlife, but if I did, I’d think that maybe that was who she saw, standing behind her, watching over her. A shadow of retribution, trying to make right the sins of his mortal life.

“You’re gonna be okay, you know,” I assured her. “You’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

She nodded but she didn’t speak, just picked up her knife and fork and started to eat again.

And so, we ate the rest of the meal in silence. Maya consumed by thoughts of what her future looked like, and me, desperate to get online and check the CCTV, feeling like I wanted to take my steak knife and stab it into the nearest wall. She was hurting, and that made me feral.

My father’s day of reckoning couldn’t come soon enough.

After the meal had been eaten and everything was tidied away, I checked my cameras. I saw Maya in the living room, and I watched the flash of lightning illuminate the apartment as she spun around, but there was no one there. No dark figures. Only Maya.

I sat with her on the sofa as she spoke about her fears at night, how she struggled when she was alone. We tried to watch a movie, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“You don’t have to watch this,” I told her. “I can put something else on.”

“I don’t mind what’s on the TV,” she replied with no conviction, no enthusiasm. It worried me that she seemed to have lost some of her fight.

“What are you reading at the moment?” I asked, and instantly she brightened a little.

“ The Handmaid’s Tale . I’ve read it before,” she replied, gesturing to where the book was on the table in front of us.

I reached forward and picked it up, opening to the place in the story that she’d bookmarked with a scrap of paper. And then I turned the TV off and sat back, and I started to read to her.

As I read, she seemed to settle more on the sofa, her eyes drifting closed as she imagined the world I was painting with my words. A dystopian world, not a million miles away from the kind of ideals my own father held, but a million miles away from mine.

I got lost in the story, too, reading chapter upon chapter until I stopped to ask her thoughts on something, and as I turned to face her, I saw that she was fast asleep next to me. I didn’t know when she’d drifted off. Maybe it was a few seconds ago, maybe minutes, could be an hour. I had no idea. But the sight of her lying still, at peace, with her mouth slightly open, letting out short, gentle breaths made warmth bloom in my chest.

The book had soothed her.

My voice had soothed her.

And now, she was getting the rest she so desperately needed.

I stood slowly, careful not to wake her, and walked over to the corner of the room to fetch a throw to cover her and keep her warm. But as I draped it over her, I realised I wasn’t going to be leaving her tonight. Even if my absence raised suspicion back at Firethorne, I didn’t want to go. She’d fallen asleep with me here; I didn’t want her to wake alone. I wanted to be here when she opened her eyes.

So, I sat back down on the sofa next to her, then I put my arm around her and pulled her towards me, resting her head on my chest as I leaned back, letting her lie down on me as I held her close.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of vanilla and Maya. In many ways, having her close, in my arms, it soothed me, too. And as I listened to the sound of her gentle breathing and felt the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, I fell into a deep sleep, too.