Endangered Hearts, page 21
His neglect of her was criminal. Perhaps Aasif was correct for once, sooner rather than later, Kasper realized his demons would hurt her in a way he could not repair. And if he had allowed that to happen, what else did that make him but a criminal?
He slept little throughout the night, soothing her nightmares when they appeared to be reaching for her and trying to take in every line and detail that was her frame. He knew when the morning broke, he would have to do something that he would probably regret, but needed to do to save them both.
Meanwhile, he watched the bruises form. Her injuries—though superficial—were impossible to ignore. With the evidence of his failure staring at him, he knew he would give his fortune and all his talents to prevent it from ever happening again.
“Kasper.” She looked up at him and smiled, though he knew it must have hurt for her to do so. He knew it pained him to watch her try.
“How do you feel?”
She sat up and stretched. “Much better.”
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head, trying not to flinch when she felt how stiff her neck was. Instead, she leaned forward and scrambled her feet out from under the blanket. She hurried to get up but he rushed to stop her, and when she saw how crestfallen his expression was, she let herself sit back down.
“What’s wrong?” Emilia reached for him and tried not to panic when he did not respond. “What is it?”
“You were right.”
“Right?”
“About leaving, being angry with me—invading your privacy the way I did.” He shook his head. “There was nothing suitable about my behavior.”
“You saved me,” she insisted. “If you had listened to me—”
“Then I would have known how dishonorable it was and would not have done so. You would not have left me, and would not have been put in that danger in the first place.”
“I don’t understand, Kasper. Are you trying to punish me? Is this payback for leaving?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Don’t you see? Those things I did to learn about you, to feel close to you, does not make me any different from that villain who hurt you—who tried to violate you.”
“Yes, it does! I understand that now.” Suddenly, it didn’t matter how desperate she sounded, how pathetic, as long as she got her point across—to let him know how wrong she had been. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you before, about the detective and everything. It was a stupid thing to get so upset about! I love you, and I know you love me—”
“Yes! Yes, I do love you, which is why I have to let you go, Emilia. If I do not, I will loathe myself more than ever.”
Let her go? What was he saying? This was another bad dream. Yeah, that made sense. She was still asleep, she had to have been! “Let me go? No. Why?”
She had decided to torture him until the very end then. That was the only way he could describe it, trying to find the words while he saw the fear in her eyes—the terror of being abandoned. Still, he had to do it, she had been kind enough to try and save his soul—now he had to do the same for her.
“I use you, Emilia, use you just like your mother and that consort of hers does. I abuse your affection for me, because I need you so desperately! If you stay because you want to save me, it will not do either of us any good.”
Emilia stood up, ignoring the dizziness that washed over her. Explaining this to him was more important than her health could ever be. “But I love you. I want to be with you. With everything that has happened between us, why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you more dearly than any man has loved before. You deserve to have people in your life who will not abuse your kindness. You deserve someone who will be by your side instead of towering over you.”
He had actually put thought into this? Emilia forced herself to stop crying and stared at the delicate patterns of the curtains. Here she had hoped he was just trying to punish her, to get some kind of payback for hurting him, but if he was serious it somehow hurt so much more. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll go to Cornell.”
“What?” She took a step back. That was not how she had expected him to respond.
Kasper stuck his hands in his pockets and did his best not to stare. Even in this state, his love was still beautiful—worthy to be called art. “You can see I have no will to stay away from you, no tolerance to live without you. The only hope for you to live a real life is to get as far away from me as possible.”
Emilia bit her lip, having forgot for an instant about the cut there. She winced. “I don’t think I can.”
“You can,” he said. “And you will.”
“And if I do, go away without a fuss, I mean,” she said, trying to ignore the taste of blood, “I’d be leaving my heart here with you.”
“That’s all right.” He nodded solemnly. “It just means that someday you will have to come back.”
“Of course” She smiled. “You have my most prized possession.”
Kasper took a step towards her and sighed when her hand stretched out for his. “You, foolish girl, are my most prized possession.”
Epilogue
The Home At Last animal shelter was located in a building so dilapidated it looked as though it could had been built with the animals in mind. The wear and tear of the brick exterior reminded Emilia of the sad eyes of many of the dogs who had been forsaken there for one reason or another. And though it made her sad sometimes too, she liked being part of the solution—enjoyed knowing that she was helping.
Unlike most of the other first year students, Emilia liked the rotation she had been assigned to. Never having had a dog herself, working with the animals gave her a feeling beyond purpose—prompting what she thought might be a maternal instinct to help the dogs.
Most of the dogs at the shelter were pitbulls or a similar breed, cast away because they were overly aggressive, or their owners—having decided to have children, were fearful about the dog’s potential behavior. Emilia herself had already written a paper on the false reputations of pitbulls, impressing one of her professors within her first weeks of the new semester.
It had been three months since Emilia had left Massachusetts. At first it had just been painful, and though she thought of Kasper constantly, she was surprised that the cliché of time healing wounds was true, since she had learned to sleep again and now, hardly ever cried.
“Okay, everyone, gather around. Put your phones away, we have an opportunity to be here and we should take advantage.” Emilia and the other first years did as instructed, though there was some slight hesitation to yield texting. Emilia smiled to herself and thought of how horribly Kasper would hate that. At least now, she thought, she could think of him and feel something besides sadness, something besides regret.
“Today there are a few additions to our clan. Three dogs determined to be of the pitbull class rescued from a home just outside of Brooklyn.”
As if on cue, Emilia looked up from her notebook while several animal control officers unloaded cages from their truck. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to see—even through the slim lines of the cages—that most of the dogs had been subjected to rough treatment. Many of them had faces that drooped with scars, stomachs with protruding ribs, and missing fur. One of them, Emilia could see, had been blinded with chemical scars around his face.
“Are they fighting dogs, sir?” she heard a student ask.
“Yes, unfortunately. While our brave AC officers are preparing the dogs for us to examine, why don’t we have a pop quiz?”
Snickering and groans rang out among the group.
“What breed does the American pitbull come from?”
A student in the back barely had her hand in the air before answering, “Terrier? Sir.”
“Correct. And what is the percentage of pitbulls that makes up the canine specimen?”
Emilia knew the answers, and while she had gotten better at speaking up in class, she was distracted by the arrival of the new dogs. The parade of dogs were led in on snare poles, some of them clearly having been tranquilized by their staggering legs and glassy eyes. It always seemed excessive to her to have the dogs woozy like that. At the same time however, Emilia could understand why the catchers took the precaution. While most of them were harmless, the lives they had experienced had made some of the dogs angry, vicious around others. One of them in particular looked like he had seen the worst of the worst, and with his white face littered with battle scars and one of his ears looking like it had been nearly chewed off; Emilia knew the likelihood of him being adopted even if he was rehabilitated.
She wandered off away from her peers and closer to the dogs who sat impatiently in the cages, some barking, others whining while they waited for their new dwelling.
Familiar with Emilia by now, a couple of the control officers nodded at her or smiled as she approached, the oldest officer even tipping his ball cap in her direction. Unlike them however, the dog she knelt beside skittishly retreated to the back of the cage. Emilia smiled at him, she knew by now not to take it personally.
“What’s this one’s story?” she asked one of the catchers.
“Just another purebred with a bad temper.”
Emilia nodded. Overwhelming sympathy filled her as she rested the tips of her fingers on the side of the cage, and ignored the warning that came with it.
“Hey! Hey, I wouldn’t do that—”
Emilia ignored the throng of protests by encouraging the dog further and offering her hand to sniff. After a minute when he crawled his way over, with his nostrils flaring in the air, Emilia knew they would be friends.
“Eek,” someone behind her said. “Poor little guy.”
“No.” Emilia smiled and shook her head. “I think he’s perfect.”
Acknowledgement
Love always to Scottie, Mom, Kyle, the Grandparents, Barb, and anyone else I might have forgotten. Nothing says love like enabling obsessive behavior.
Thanks to the gang at Limitless Publishing for helping me put these things together and giving a bookworm a chance to make her dream come true.
About the Author
A native of New Jersey and lifelong nerd, Amanda Lance recently completed her Master in Liberal Arts at Thomas Edison State College after her BA in English Literature and AFA in creative writing. As an avid reader of all genres, some of her favorite authors include Hemingway, Marquis de Sade, Stevenson, Bukowski and Radcliffe.
When she isn’t writing or reading, Amanda can found indulging in film noir or hiking with her other half and their extremely spoiled dog. She is obsessively working on her next book and trying to tame her caffeine addiction.
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Amanda Lance, Endangered Hearts
