“Where is Moira?”
“I don’t know,” I whimpered, trying to pull away from him and making the chair wobble underneath me. I was frantic, pulling and twisting against my bonds, but they held fast.
I wasn’t even trying to protect her. At that moment, I would have given the man her and Patrick’s coordinates if I had known them—but that was the problem. I didn’t know where they were, and I was in so much pain that I couldn’t see past the literal interpretation of his words.
The hammer slammed down again on my middle finger, and I screamed in agony once more, but when he asked again where they were, I gave him the same answer.
The next finger was so short that when he took aim and hit it, I felt the bottom knuckle break.
His question never wavered, and neither did my answer. I felt him position my smallest and most delicate finger on the table, and I was so dazed from the pain that I didn’t even fight him. My head was rolling across the top of the chair as I prayed that I would lose consciousness.
I didn’t.
The hammer fell again.
When he loosened the rope around my wrist so he could position my thumb along the tabletop, he finally asked the right question.
“Where did he take her?” His voice was still calm, but I could hear the frustration behind it. I watched detachedly as he tightened the rope around my wrist back up.
“North Carolina,” I mumbled, finally seeing black spots dance around the edges of my vision.
I was losing focus on his face, but I noticed when he began to turn red and the veins in his neck began to bulge. I didn’t flinch when he flung the hammer across the room, or at the sound it made as it lodged in the wall.
I also didn’t move when I realized he was untying me from the chair. I barely flinched as he laid me on the floor and tugged my wet jeans and underwear down my legs. And when he left me there, bare from the waist down and cradling my broken hand to my chest, I finally, blessedly, passed out.
I’m not sure how long I was on the floor, but I woke up to him murmuring. “Disgustin’,” he said, and something about an eye for an eye as he used a wet towel to clean me. My hand was still curled limply against my chest and I couldn’t focus on anything else except the pain. It was taking over my entire body, making my teeth chatter and my legs shake against the cold wood floor.
I barely noticed when he lifted me from the floor and laid me on the couch. I was drifting in some weird space where I’d come to briefly in order to see his livid face, and then fade away again as if I wasn’t even in my own body.
I’d like to think that I would have fought him if I hadn’t been so out of it, but I’m not sure that I would have. The memory of what he’d done to my hand was so sharp, the pain so intense, that even if I’d had my wits about me, I wasn’t sure I would’ve tried to stop him.
I probably would have lay there, exactly as I did, and whimpered as he pushed inside me. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my hand.
I’m almost grateful for that—the pain and the disconnection—because it didn’t allow me to focus on the triumph in his face, the way he groaned as he pumped away, or the way he laid my unresisting leg over the back of the couch so he had more room to move as he changed my life forever.
I just hurt all over and I wanted Patrick.
I heard the front door open, but I was too out of it to pay any attention as the man finally pulled away and left me spread out on the couch.
He was buttoning his jeans leisurely as a familiar voice called through the house.
“Mum, are ye here?”
Footsteps grew closer, but I still didn’t move. I didn’t feel anything. I was completely numb, aside from the pain that had moved all the way up my arm and had settled like a weight pressing on my chest.
I met Kevie’s eyes with my dull ones as his mouth dropped in absolute horror.
“Malcolm, what in God’s name have ye done?”
Chapter 37
Amy
I don’t remember how I got home and I don’t remember Peg’s reaction. I assume that Doc bandaged my hand, but I have no memory of him doing that, either.
The first thing I recall was waking up in my bed, while Kevie sat watching me from a chair that had been dragged in from our kitchen.
“Yer awake?” he asked quietly as I tried to remember how I’d gotten there.
It came back to me in flashes, the memories becoming heavier and heavier as I curled onto my side and wrapped my body protectively around my hand. I could hear Doc and Peg speaking in the kitchen, which calmed me somewhat, but my face burned in shame as Kevie leaned forward to meet my eyes.
“I’m so sorry dis happened,” he said, his hands wrapped up in a rosary as if I’d interrupted his prayers when I’d woken up. “Me brudder—”
“That was your brother?” I asked in confusion, my throat sore from screaming.
“Yes.”
My body tensed again as I watched him try to martial his features into something that didn’t resemble complete devastation.
“I cannot apologize enough for what he’s done,” he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know what demon has taken hold of him, but I fear dat he’s past de point of any help.”
“Did you kill him?” I asked curiously, feeling surprisingly sorry for the man.
“Of course not,” he replied, and all sense of sympathy left me.
“What did you do?”
“I dressed ye and brought ye home,” he answered, his cheeks growing red at the word ‘dressed’.
“Where is your brother?” I glanced at the window. Patrick had told me no one could fit through it, but at that moment I wasn’t sure if I believed him.
“I believe he’s still at our mum’s. She’s at her sister’s for de weekend.”
“That was your mother’s house?”
“Yes.”
“And you just left him there, to what? Watch some television? Make a little dinner? Have a beer?”
“I had to get ye home. Yer hand—”
My hand’s throbbing seemed to intensify as he pointed it out.
“Did you tell Peg where you found me?” I asked in suspicion. “Peg!” I yelled. “Peg!”
“Do not say a word!” he hissed quietly as we heard he steps moving toward us.
“Yer awake!” Peg cried as she came to the bed, pulling me up slowly and wrapping her arms around me as she burst into tears. “My poor baby.”
I met Kevie’s eyes over Peg’s shoulder, and barely held back the shudder at the glare on his face.
“What happened?” I asked Peg, never looking away from Kevie’s face.
“Ye don’t remember?” she asked in surprise, then hugged me even tighter. “Thank God. Thank God.”
“The priest here says he found ya in the alley behind the bar,” Doc said, coming into the doorway. “Says he thought you’d want him to bring you back here instead of the hospital.” His voice was laced with suspicion, and I couldn’t help the relief that ran through me. He didn’t believe it. He knew something was off.
“I’m just glad I was takin’ de short cut to Mum’s from de church,” Kevie said, his jaw clenching.
“I’m so glad yer home,” Peg whispered into my ear, “What would I have done? My poor girl.”
“I’m a little hungry,” I lied, leaning away from Peg’s arms. “And I’d really like a shower.”
“Of course!” she shot up from the bed, jostling my arm. “I’ll start some breakfast.”
She left the room and I turned to Doc, who hadn’t left his post. “Can I have a minute with Kevie?”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I honestly thought he was going to refuse, but then with a small nod of his head, he stepped out of the doorway.
“Why did you lie?” I asked, knowing from the shadow outside the door that Doc hadn’t gone far.
“If ye try to—” Kevie shook his head and stuffed his rosary beads into his pocket. “Do not go against me b
rudder,” he warned, “Ye’ll not come out of it unharmed.”
“I have nothing to lose.”
“Ye cannot honestly believe dat,” he argued.
“I could send him to prison.”
“Yer delusional,” he hissed leaning forward until I was forced to move back or our faces would be touching. “De police in Ballyshannon wouldn’t even arrest him, ye bloody idiot. No one would believe yer word over Malcolm’s. No one.”
“But they’d believe you. You’re a priest. They’d believe you.” I pointed out quietly, watching as his face moved from a pleading expression to completely void of emotion.
“I’ll not help ye put me brudder in prison,” he said resolutely, standing from his chair. “Keep yer accusations to yerself if ye know what’s good for ye.”
He left the room as I began to panic.
I had no recourse. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I couldn’t go to the police, Patrick wasn’t there, Charlie and Vera were gone… and I’d have to live knowing that at any time, Malcolm could come back to me.
Suddenly, I was overcome with a wave of disgust and I frantically pushed the blankets away from my body with my good hand. As I stood from the bed, the sore flesh between my thighs burned in protest, and I felt tears burn the backs of my eyes. I smelled like urine and sex.
“Need help?” Doc asked, looking at me kindly.
“I want to take a shower.” I lifted my right hand up to run it through my hair, and that’s when I finally remembered that it was gone. Tears dripped down my face as I looked at Doc. “I forgot,” I explained, running my fingers lightly over the patchy hair on my head. “It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
“You won’t be winning any beauty pageants,” he confirmed, “but it’ll grow back. Hair ain’t nothin’ worth worrying about.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but what was the point? It was gone.
“I’ll shave the rest off, if you want. It’s gotta be better than having patches all over like that.”
I think I nodded, and I didn’t resist as he ushered me toward the bathroom.
I’ll never know what he said to Peg that day when he went to get me painkillers from the kitchen, but I do know that she never bothered us as he shaved my head with a cheap razor from beneath the bathroom sink. He was careful. His hands touched me as little as possible, and when they did, it was as if I’d break at any minute.
I’m not sure why I didn’t balk at Doc helping me shower. Maybe it was because he treated me like a child. Maybe it was the air of calm that he exuded. More than likely, I was still in shock. For whatever reason, I didn’t panic once as he turned on the shower and sat on the toilet seat to help me get undressed.
My hand was pretty much useless; any time I moved it, I had to force myself not to gasp in pain, so Doc had to do most of the work. After he removed my shirt and bra, he pulled my pants to my ankles and helped me step out of them.
“Christ!” he hissed as he tried to remove my underwear next.
I began to shake as he wrapped his big hands around my hips and dropped his head forward in sorrow.
“I thought maybe—but then you didn’t say nothin’ so I hoped—” His voice was strained as he shook his head slowly from side to side. “I should have stripped you down while you were out,” he said to himself. “I fuckin’ knew better.”
I was thankful he hadn’t stripped me while I was unconscious. Who knows how I would have reacted to that on top of everything else?
“Thank you,” I said in a small voice, laying my good hand on the top of his head. “Thank you for leaving my clothes on.”
“Don’t thank me!” his words were harsh, but his hands were still gentle on my hips. “Motherfuckingsonofabitch!”
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I stood awkwardly in front of him, and after a few moments, his calm façade was back.
“You’ve—your underwear—the blood—” he took another deep breath then began again. “The blood has dried. I’m not sure how badly you’re hurt, but your panties are stuck to your skin with blood, and I don’t want to rip them away in case things are even worse than I think they are.”
My stomach turned and I was afraid for a second that I was going to be sick. I swallowed it down and nodded at him to keep going.
“I’m going to put you in the shower like this so the water can wash away some of the blood,” he looked at me for acceptance. “Keep your hand out of the spray if you can. I wrapped those fingers good, but fuck if I know if I made them worse or not. You probably need fuckin’ surgery, but we can’t take you to a goddamn hospital in this hellhole. If you get those bandages wet, I’ll have to change them and it’ll hurt like hell, okay?”
“I won’t get them wet,” I assured him as he grabbed my elbow to steady me while I stepped into the tub.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he said after silently keeping an eye on me for a few minutes as I let the hot water roll over my body. “I should have been more prepared. I knew somethin’ felt off, but I thought you’d be safe at work.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said flatly.
“I should have—”
“It’s not your fault. Can you help me get these off now?”
He nodded and reached for my underwear, pulling them slowly away. Thankfully the water had done its job, and all I could feel was a stinging sensation as he moved them down my thighs.
“I know you don’t want to do this. Fuck!” He threw the underwear out of the spray before continuing, “I need to check you, alright? I need to make sure you’re okay down there.”
I didn’t think that anything was significantly wrong down there, but I had no way to know. I hated the thought of Doc seeing me—of anyone seeing me. It made my skin crawl with revulsion. He was being so kind, far more gentle and apologetic than I knew he was comfortable with, but that didn’t stop the churning of my stomach as I agreed.
I stood there, one foot on the side of the tub, holding onto his shoulder to keep from falling, and burned with mortification.
It had been only hours since the only man who’d ever seen me without clothes had been my husband. It was demoralizing and degrading to let Doc look at me, but I knew I had to just let him do it. I’d been bleeding. Bleeding. And his eyes showed nothing but respect and sadness as he quickly looked me over.
When he was finished, I climbed quickly out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel.
At some point after wanting to die of shame, I’d become angry. So very, very angry.
“I’m sor—”
“Stop saying that!” I snapped before dropping my head. Doc was an innocent party, he didn’t deserve my wrath.
“Go eat and then get some sleep,” he said calmly, opening the door to the bathroom so I could walk out. “We have to be ready to go by ten.”
I stopped abruptly at the edge of the living room as Peg caught my eyes from her place in the kitchen.
“I’m not going to North Carolina,” I informed them both. “I have some money stashed. It’s enough to buy us some plane tickets to the US if either of you wants to go with me.”
I looked back to Doc. “Thank you so much for your help today. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here, and none of this is your fault.”
I turned back to where Peg was walking slowly toward me. “It’s Patrick’s fault,” I said, and watched her face fall. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”
***
I walked gingerly to my room and proceeded to get dressed and packed quickly, anxious to be gone from there. We left for the airport an hour later, and I carried nothing with me but the backpack I’d used for school, filled with clothes and the wad of cash I’d fished out of my hiding spot.
Peg decided that she would go with me, but Doc said he needed to take the steamer so he could meet Ham and the rest of the guys in North Carolina. I didn’t care.
I was content to go by myself, but a part of me was glad I’d have Peg ther
e. She took care of all the arrangements, buying the tickets to New York City with the cash I’d had hidden for a rainy day in my sock drawer. It was a good thing that she and Doc were so willing to step in for me. A really good thing.
Because the moment I’d announced that Patrick was at fault for all that had happened to me, I came to the awful realization that it was true. It was absolutely true. And it was too much for me to handle on top of every other thing I’d endured over the past week.
I didn’t speak at all for the rest of the day.
Not on the plane to New York, or when Peg tried to discuss where we’d go from there.
I still hadn’t spoken when we climbed onto a bus in Port Authority on our way to Texas, or when Peg rented us a small house on the outskirts of Austin with the money Robbie had given her just days before he died.
I didn’t speak for months.
Not one word.
My voice was frozen in my throat. I had nothing left in me to say.
Chapter 38
Patrick
I was practically vibrating with excitement when we pulled our bikes into the parking lot of the pub where we were meeting Doc and the women. The last week and a half had been hell, and I was anxious to get it over with.
Moira had been sick as shit the entire trip, and I’d been uncomfortable as hell trying to comfort her while maintaining an appropriate distance. It was an odd situation we found ourselves in, and I couldn’t help but feel very, very sorry for this woman who was carrying my child. She didn’t deserve to be alone with a group of people she barely knew, especially when the only woman who could have helped had refused to say one word in her direction.
I was glad Vera was so loyal to my wife. I was. But I could have fucking killed her for refusing to even acknowledge Moira when she was so sick. I’d been helpless to do anything but talk quietly to the poor woman and occasionally rub her back until she fell into an exhausted sleep. Even that had made my skin crawl like I was doing something wrong.
It didn’t help matters that I’d barely slept. I couldn’t—not without nightmares plaguing me. Every scenario—from the things I’d done to things that I prayed would never happen—had flashed through my dreams. It had been easier to stay awake, but after a week with only a few hours of sleep I was feeling a bit fuzzy about the edges.