Killing Sarai

The hatch opens, creaking once which makes me wince and freeze holding it partially open above me. I push again and walk up to the fourth step and my head emerges inside a closet. I see that a foam mattress pad had been folded over and placed on top of the hatch door to conceal it and there is carpet on top of the hatch that matches the carpet on the closet floor; I feel it with my fingertips as I raise the hatch the rest of the way and leave it to lean against the back of the closet wall.

I climb out and quietly push myself through the clothes hanging from the bar above.

Thwap!

“Two more minutes, Sarai!” I hear Javier warn from the living room.

I open the closet door and make my way more quickly now through Samantha’s bedroom, down the hall and into the living room where Javier is waiting on me, every bone and muscle in my body trembling.

“Ah, and there she is!” Javier raises both hands out beside him, his gun latched in the right. He smiles and looks genuinely excited to see me. He’s crazy….

His hands drop to his sides.

“I’ve missed you, Sarai.” He cocks his head to one side to appear sincere. “If you were unhappy why didn’t you just say so? I’d have done anything you wanted, you know that.”

I don’t care about what he has to say, all I care about is making sure that Samantha is alright. Trying to keep my eyes on Javier, my gaze carefully scans the room out ahead of me, looking for her.

Finally, I see her bare feet sticking out from behind the recliner on the other side of the room, her skin stained with blood.

“Samantha, are you OK?”

She doesn’t respond so I know she’s hurt pretty bad.

I look back at Javier, pleading in my eyes.

“Let’s just go. Please. Javier please don’t hurt her anymore.”

He smiles at me, appearing thoughtful but amused.

He’s wearing black from top to bottom: long-sleeved black shirt, black belt, black pants, black shoes. Black heart. He raises his gun at me and motions it for me to go over to him.

He curls his finger at me. “Let me see you.”

I walk closer, my bare feet moving over the Good Housekeeping magazines scattered about the floor. The grandfather clock standing tall in the corner ticks ominously behind me.

“Javier, she’s going to die if we don’t call for an ambulance,” I urge as I get closer. “Let me call nine-one-one. Then we can leave.”

I see her knees now, but it’s all that I can see as the rest of her is obscured by the chair and the darkness.

Javier reaches out his hand.

“Did he fuck you?” he asks and pulls me closer to him by my fingers. “Did you let him fuck you, or are you still mine?” He leans inward and inhales the scent of me, a loose strand of hair fallen from my ponytail he plays with in the tips of his fingers.

“No,” I say breathily. “I’ll always be yours.”

He’s wearing cologne, the same kind he always wore when he’d come to me in the night. And his hair, somewhat long on top, is clean and groomed, the way he always wore it when he’d dress me up and take me with him to the wealthy houses.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says quietly and I feel his breath on my neck. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me. You shouldn’t have left.”

I reach up with my left hand and curl my fingers softly around the back of his neck. I lean into him, the side of my face navigating the opened buttons at the top of his shirt until I feel his chest on my cheek. “I know and I’m sorry.” I kiss his skin lightly. “I am so sorry for leaving you like that,” I add in Spanish.

I shudder, both from pleasure and from disgust, when he slides his hand down the front of my pants and puts two fingers inside of me. It doesn’t matter that he’s insane or that he’s a murderer or that he might kill me any second, the touch still makes me wet. It’s my body betraying me, human nature betraying me, not my mind or my heart. I had conformed years ago to react to him in this way. A twisted survival instinct that they don’t teach in self-defense classes. Javier had to believe he was turning me on or he’d know everything else about me was a lie, too, and so my body learned to react in the way that it knew would keep me alive.

He pulls his fingers out and brings them to his lips, inhaling deeply, his eyes closed as if to savor it. Then he puts them in his mouth.

I take a step backward while he’s distracted, to put as much distance between us as I can manage although small.

“I’m not sure I want you anymore,” he says.

My heart hardens. If he doesn’t want me then I know he’ll kill me, especially after everything that I’ve done, all of the trouble that I’ve caused.

“Javier,” I say, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice, “let’s go. I’m ready to go back.”

His top lip furrows and he shakes his head.

“Izel is dead,” he says probingly, probably wondering if I did it. “I know you hated her. I don’t blame you. But she was my sister.”

I shake my head and start to back up some more.

“I-I didn’t kill her,” I say. “I didn’t know.”

Javier laughs.

I take another step back and two to my right, stepping on a sharp piece of plastic from some random object, but it doesn’t break the skin. I press my hands against the wall behind me.

And then I see her, Samantha, much clearer from this angle. I abandon my dire need to watch Javier’s every move as he approaches me slowly, tauntingly, and all I can see now is Samantha. She’s not moving. She sits slumped over with her back against the wall. Her bloody legs are splayed out into the floor. Her arms lie limply on either side of her, her fingers uncurled.

Her eyes. They’re open. And they’re dead.

Bile churns in my stomach, my hands begin to solidify, hard like metal, down at my sides. I’m shaking all over from anger and hatred and guilt, and godammit, fear.

“You killed her,” I say, my lips trembling.

“I did,” Javier admits proudly. “On the fifth shot.”

“But you said…,” I look to and from him and Samantha’s body, my heart feels like its closing in on itself. “You said if I didn’t—”

Javier raises his gun at me, that last bullet I know now why he didn’t use it on her.

I stand frozen, one hand still on the wall behind me, the other somehow made its way to my stomach as if it could keep the vomit down by being there. I stumble on more debris and then press my back against the wall to let it hold me up. Because my body is still betraying me, my legs weak and unstable, threatening to give way beneath me any second.

I stare across the small space separating Javier and I. I stare into his cold, bottomless dark eyes, not the barrel of his gun pointed directly at me, but his eyes. I hear a click, just a click, and we look blankly into each other’s faces, both of us confused by what just happened. Then a shot rings out and my head falls against the wall with my back. I feel my body sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor just like Samantha. Limp and spent, just like Samantha. The room spins around in my vision like a thick haze of gray.

And I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Victor

I’m forty thousand feet above the Texas landscape when I get the call.

“Victor,” Niklas says into the phone, “Javier is not in Tucson. He was reported to have used a known credit card with an old alias, just outside of La Grange, Texas.”

I raise my back stiffly from the seat.

“That’s less than a two hour drive to Houston,” I point out, more to myself. “At what time did the card process?”

“At three-twelve this afternoon.”

My body becomes rigid.

Hanging up the phone, I crush it in my fist down at my side as I make my way to the cockpit.

“Turn the plane around,” I demand.