We Told Six Lies(41)

She spotted a lake in the distance. Or maybe it was a pond.

Blue stopped short of it and all but shoved her ahead of him.

She turned to look at him, rubbing her arm.

He raised his arms to the sky as if to say, Well?

She turned her face heavenward and felt the warmth on her skin, cutting through the cold gusts of wind. The sun felt like being wrapped in blankets fresh from the dryer. It felt like the first moments in bed after a long day, your feet rubbing against timeworn sheets. It felt like the tickle of Cobain’s jaw against her cheek when he’d forgotten to shave.

Molly turned to Blue.

“Thank you.”

He glanced away.

Courage boiled inside her, and she said, firmly, “You hurt me.”

It was important that she not tell him what to do. She knew he needed to feel as if he were in control. Before, on the stairs, she’d lost her head to fear, but now she knew better.

He tipped his head, seemed to look at her arm. Then looked down and away.

He understood.

For a fiery moment, Molly considered grabbing the closest stick she could find and seeing how far she could shove it into his throat. She’d delight over the sound of him choking on his own blood.

Revenge would come in time, she reminded herself, and turned her face to the sky once again.

“May I walk for a bit?” she asked.

He seemed to consider her request. Glanced around.

How close were the nearest neighbors?

When he nodded, her heart dropped.

Far, then.

She turned and led the way. As her toes turned blue, she moved closer to the body of water. Evergreen trees brushed her shoulders, and the smell of decay touched her nose. She sensed things she’d normally taken for granted. The tightening of her skin as goose bumps rose along her arms, and the way the very top of her head felt warm while her body continued to shiver. The feel of dirt rubbing between her toes. And the sounds. Oh God, how she loved hearing the sounds of the forest amplified. The nearby whistle of birds she’d only heard through her closed window. The sound of the water gently lapping at the shore. The sound of Blue’s footsteps behind her, far enough away to give her space, but not so far that she could possibly escape him if she ran.

Is that why he’d dragged her upstairs before she could put on shoes?

Molly’s mind raced as she neared the water. What if this was her only chance to escape? What if her plan to manipulate him into releasing her didn’t work? What would she do then? No one would be looking for her after they received her letter. Running would be her only option. The question was when to do it. Now? NOW?!

She felt her blood kicking through her veins as her heart rate spiked. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she flipped back and forth between running, and sticking to the path she’d forged.

A clearing lay before them. She had to make a decision. She wouldn’t be able to run once she left the camouflage the trees provided.

What would her mother do?

What would her father do?

Cobain, she thought to herself. I’m so sorry.

She ran.

Blue was after her in an instant.

She didn’t veer left or right like she’d considered doing. Instead, she ran straight toward the water. It was fifty degrees outside, maybe forty, and it had snowed the night before. But she didn’t hesitate. She ran faster, her feet thumping against the ground, her heart firing in her chest as she stretched her arms forward.

When her feet hit the water, it took everything she had not to leap backward. Instead, she rushed onward, head back, arms open—possessed.

When the water reached her waist, the sound of Blue’s pursuit stopped. He wouldn’t come in, she knew. He wouldn’t risk losing his anonymity.

She laughed, manic, and drove her body farther into the water.

The water lapped at her breasts. Her shoulders. Her neck. And finally, it swallowed her head with a satisfied slurp.

She stayed beneath the water for only a moment. But in that moment, she pushed her arms and legs out and floated in the black abyss, a broken butterfly taking flight once more. Then she shot up and sucked in a breath. She filled her lungs until they ached, and then, slowly, she turned her eyes on Blue.

He watched her.

She could see the tension in every muscle in his body. And she knew it was because he wanted her to come back. So she did.

She took one step after another, her toes digging into the mud, the water dripping from her long hair. She held his gaze, firm.

He would be able to see beneath her dress, she knew.

Look at me, she thought. Look at me, you fuck.

Blue allowed himself a moment to gaze at every part of her before turning his head a fraction away.

For the first time, Molly was confused. Wasn’t this what all men wanted? Wasn’t sex what softened them? What made them break their vows and their spines?

When at last she stepped onto the shore, he looked back at her face. Seemed to note the way her teeth chattered.

“I had to feel the water,” Molly said, shivering so hard she was afraid her bones might crack. “I haven’t had a bath in—”

She stopped when she realized what he was doing.

Molly sucked in a breath as he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Gently, he touched her elbow, watched her face. Guided her toward the house with a touch so light that it bordered on an apology.