Cut Too Deep, page 11
“Fine! I’ll go, but I fucking own you, little girl. Remember that. You belong to me, and we aren’t finished yet.”
“Yes, we are. You see, I’m tired of being afraid. I meant what I said. If you come near me again, I will file a report. The reality is, I’m not a possession, and you do not own me. You took advantage of me during a vulnerable time in my life. But, I’m not a scared child any longer. Thanks to your advice, I have a job and am fully capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you, and I don’t want you in my life.”
Harold stood and stared at her in stunned silence. If Hadley thought she could handle it emotionally, she would file a report for the sole purpose of making him suffer. But, somewhere underneath the new stronger version of herself was a child whose life had been defined by a crime she committed years ago. The court ruling that, as an innocent child, she acted in self-defense was merely a formality.
Technically, she was a murderer.
Her file detailed how she was a danger to herself and others. Notes of drug use, suicide attempts, and illegal activities, although exaggerated, corrupted her character and limited her credibility. In addition to the lies he would spew about Hadley, a case against him would mean reliving the entire nightmare, every touch, followed by every scream, and every desperate cry of no.
Keeping silent allowed Hadley to maintain her sanity. If she lost against him in court, he might permanently destroy her. She’d already given up her dream to be free of this man, and she wouldn’t let him have anything else, including her new found courage.
“You heard the girl. It’s time for you to leave.”
During her tirade, Hadley forgot her neighbor witnessed everything. She wondered what the kind woman would think of her now. She waited for the threat Mr. Duwatski would deliver next, but nothing came. He turned in silence and walked away, leaving Hadley with mixed emotions—happiness he left, but nervous about his next move.
A warm hand squeezed Hadley’s shoulder. She turned her head to look at Mrs. St. Armont.
“Are you all right, dear?”
To her surprise, she was more than all right, in fact, liberated best describe how Hadley felt. She covered the woman’s hand with her own and smiled.
“Thank you for defending me.”
“Oh, please, honey. I didn’t do anything any other decent human being would do. And, you did a pretty good job of defending yourself.”
Hadley knew Mr. St. Armont to be wrong. Many self-respecting people had seen how her father treated her mother, but they never intervened. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson owned the market downstairs from them. Mrs. Nelson gave them food occasionally that her mother hid, but would close her door when the arguing erupted, pretending she didn’t hear. Then, there was Hadley’s grandparents, relatives, and teachers—all self-respecting people, who ignored the signs.
“Well, thank you, anyway.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but do you want to talk about it?”
“I appreciate that, but not right now,” Hadley answered. “I’m tired, and I’m guessing we woke you up.”
“It’s no problem, sweetheart, and you know where to find me if you need me.”
Hadley thanked her neighbor again. She went inside where she tried not to think about what her ex-guardian would’ve done to her if her rescuer hadn’t shown up, because her courage would have disappeared. It always did.
Miller had spent nearly ten days in a rat infested shit hole, amidst the smell of urine, sex, and vomit, all to rescue a woman who hadn’t loved him in years and who didn’t want to be discovered. He’d followed Theresa Jensen many places, but this time he chased her right into hell.
Years ago Miller accepted their relationship would never be rekindled, but it didn’t stop him from trying to keep Theresa straight. Whether it was drugs or sex, Theresa overindulged. Like most addicts, experimenting didn’t suffice. What started with her and Miller sharing a joint and laughing like silly kids, ultimately led Theresa to cocaine and heroin.
Miller blamed himself and checked her into rehab. He thought she was cured, as if her addiction was a disease. There was no cure, only alternate vices. Once an addict, always an addict, but he hoped at the very least, she would fall into remission.
When she craved more in the bedroom, Miller wanted to satisfy her needs, but wasn’t prepared to quench her thirst. She requested to be dominated beyond innocent blindfolds and the occasional handcuffs. She wanted to be forced with a heavy hand to perform acts that went well above sexual pleasure. That demand was the demise of their relationship.
Shortly after their separation, Theresa dove back into drug use and began frequenting clubs where she could bring her sexual fantasies to life. Through abusive men, overnights in jail, and stints in rehab, Miller continually came to Theresa’s rescue.
For ten days now, Miller pondered why he couldn’t let Theresa go. He drew the conclusion what he had mistaken so long as love was merely guilt in disguise. Love that runs its course can easily be let go of. Guilt; however, wraps around your conscience and constricts until it takes every last breath you have.
Admittedly, Miller hadn’t realized he was nearly out of oxygen until the letter from his brown-eyed admirer appeared and forced him to breathe. It was the cleansing and refreshing dose of reality he needed to finally let Theresa go.
Miller regretted the first letter he sent Hadley where he treated her with the disrespect he gave all women who thought they could replace Theresa. The letter represented the self-destructive nature he defaulted to when he failed Theresa and needed to cope. Hadley deserved better. She wasn’t Theresa, and she wasn’t like the other women he frequently took to bed for a quick fuck. If his assumptions about her were correct, if he knew her, Hadley wouldn’t replace Theresa—she would completely erase the woman and the last five years of guilt that accompanied her.
Gaining Hadley’s trust would be near impossible, but he set the plans in motion to penetrate the brick walls she’d surely built around her heart. If Hadley responded to his latest letter, he would show the lamb that the wolf was worthy of her trust.
Miller hadn’t heard the door open or his cousin’s entrance until Paul stood before him holding an envelope.
While Miller was still atrociously filthy, his bruises were healing, and Paul didn’t see any fresh ones. Mr. Ralston at the Embassy had advised the men holding Miller that torturing an American could lead to questions about what type of business they were running. Paul knew these men didn’t want Interpol involved, but hadn’t been entirely convinced Mr. Ralston had influenced them. Paul was relieved to see that, perhaps, he had.
A smile broke out over Miller’s face as he took the letter from his cousin. He brought it to his nose to sniff her perfume.
Paul shot him a strange look.
“Please, tell me I can issue a press release to stop the rest of the letters now. The P.O. Box isn’t big enough to hold them all.”
“Please do. Hers are the only letters I want to receive.”
“About that…look…I have a company to run. I can’t fly all this way a couple of times a week to deliver her letters. They’ll need to go through the embassy from now on, which I know will take longer, but…”
“I expected as much and have made other arrangements,” Miller interrupted. “I know I haven’t said it, but I appreciate you doing this.”
“I certainly owe you for everything you’ve tried to do for my sister.”
Miller’s expression tightened.
“Have you heard from her?”
Paul sighed heavily in annoyance.
“No, but if I had, I’m not sure I would tell you. It’s time to let her go.”
“You’re right, my friend. It is.”
Miller’s agreement surprised Paul.
“Does that mean you’ll give these guys what they want and come home?”
“Soon.”
Paul mumbled what a stubborn bastard his cousin was and paced the floor. Miller ignored his cousin’s grumbling and read Hadley’s latest letter. He delighted in her light demeanor and playful bantering. When finished, he grabbed a pen and wrote her back. He placed the letter in a small box and requested his cousin see that she gets it.
Paul caved to his curiosity.
“What is it about her?”
Miller shrugged.
“I’m not sure, yet. There’s something about her that touches me.”
Paul wanted to say that he’d never seen Miller behave this way toward a woman, but he had. His sister had a similar effect on Miller when they first met. He only hoped this time ended differently for Miller.
“Maybe if you give these assholes what they want, you can come home, where she can actually touch you.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, friend. I’ll go when I have what I need.”
Paul didn’t comprehend his cousin’s insistence to stay in this hell when he could simply buy his freedom. The group holding him was more than eager to accept payment from Miller in exchange for favors. Paul’s visits, calls to his office, and the arrangements he’d made for Hadley all came easily when the price was right.
Miller could afford his freedom, yet he stayed willingly in this grungy hole, which left Paul to realize the item these men wanted returned to them was priceless. Paul resigned he couldn't convince Miller to do anything the man didn’t want too. With that understanding, Paul left Thailand hoping his cousin would give up his quest soon and return home.
The weekend came and went without a letter from Miller. The other responses had come quickly. Hadley wondered more than once how it was possible with the distance, but hoped this one would arrive as soon.
Hadley ran home from work on Monday to check her mail, but still no letter. She spent hours cleaning her house that evening to distract herself from thinking that maybe Miller decided he wasn’t interested in getting to know her after all.
Tuesday morning, Hadley sat on her couch eating cereal and listening to the news. She nearly choked on a raisin when the anchor announced that Mr. Genetti had requested the public cease writing him letters.
“I know hearts are breaking everywhere.” The pretty anchor made a sad face and continued. “In a statement from Genetti Industries, a representative told the press today that ‘As much as Mr. Genetti appreciates all of the letters he has received, he is being detained by a dangerous group of people, and fears for the safety of those writing him.’ Sorry, ladies.”
The anchor went on to make assumptions as to what she felt those dangers were, though clarified it to be merely speculation.
A smile tugged at the corners of Hadley’s mouth, and she let it lift to a full blown shit-eating grin. She simply couldn’t hide how happy the news made her feel. In his last letter, Miller stated he hadn’t read the others and didn’t want them. Hadley couldn’t help but think he knew she wouldn’t believe him. He proved it to her, like a show of good faith. Maybe she was still giddy from his letter and reading too much into it, but she chose to believe Miller did it thinking of only her.
Work that day proved interesting. Hadley was presented with her first solo task and given a week to finish it. It was a campaign for a posh children’s learning center in Upstate. Not a large client, but Hadley was excited to get started. At lunch, she bounced ideas off of Mac, who expressed his genuine excitement for his friend.
Hadley left work and floated home to more happiness. She threw her things down on the counter, including a small box postmarked from Miller. The suspense of what it could be kept nudging her. She wasted no time in tearing into the box. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and looked down to see an iPhone.
He sent me a phone?
Hadley wondered if it meant they would be able to talk, although wasn’t sure she was ready. It was one thing to write down her thoughts and to read his, but to hear his voice—well, that was more intimate. She unfolded the paper in her hand. Releasing a sigh, she read his words.
Dear Ms. Walker,
I am humbled.
After my first letter, I didn't deserve a response, but I can't begin to tell you how much your letter means to me. Knowing you've imagined us kissing fills me with hope.
Please, stop smothering the spark between us. I feel it, too, and have since the first time I discovered you watching me. Let it rage. Allow yourself to feel. I won't hurt you, and I would never intentionally cause you pain or suffering. I want to know why you hurt, and I want to take it all away. Please, don't fear me. Let me in. Allow me to heal your heart and soul.
As for your questions, I can't share with you the purpose of my visit to Thailand as it could put you in danger. I won't allow that to happen.
The scar on my chin happened as a child, and I'm afraid it isn't a very exciting story.
Now, with regard to the many different women in my life and why I date so often, I love sex and the way a woman's soft skin feels under my touch, but, in truth, it's deeper than that for me. I date many women seeking the one woman who owns the other half of my heart, so that together, we can be whole.
I want to find the one capable of illuminating the darkest parts of me. So far, she's eluded me, but I continue searching for her. I'll know who she is by the sick feeling in the depth of my gut that chisels its way into the pit of my soul every time I touch her. I want the kind of love that marks me, where every thought of her gives me shivers and makes my heart ache when we're apart. The kind of love so deep, I'd rather die than ever see her hurt or sad. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, and maybe my notion of love is idealistic to a fault. Perhaps I'm destined to live my life alone, but I'd rather live in solitude than settle for a woman who falls short of completely shattering my expectations.
I'm so close to finding her now, I can feel it.
There's something behind you're shimmering brown eyes that tells me I may have found her, only you're too scared to reveal yourself to me. It's my hope that soon you'll be brave enough to lower the mask, show me who you are, and light up my life.
Does that answers your question, Ms. Walker?
The phone provided with this letter is for us to text as even with my company's jet delivering your letters, it takes too long. I've paid a significant amount of money to these animals to allow this. I will only get one hour a day. At eight pm every evening (eight am here), they will bring me a phone for us to communicate. They will read the texts, and that means some questions you ask may go unanswered. Do not tell anyone about this arrangement. Do not ask any questions about who has me or why I'm in Thailand. If you do, they will no longer allow us this privilege.
If my calculations are correct, you should hear from me in fifteen minutes.
With anticipation, M
The letter floated to the floor as her trembling fingers reached into the box for the phone. Her eyes blurred with tears, of what kind she wasn’t certain; joy or fear, or an emotion much deeper. Hadley felt elated that she would be able to communicate with Miller every night. However, she questioned if she was capable of revealing herself. A mean voice in her head answered for her.
No! Are you foolish enough to believe you’re the woman he’s searching for? A woman capable of this kind of love is pure and untarnished, not tainted and damaged. Remember, you’re worthless.
Hadley spent her life listening to that voice, but she couldn’t deny the pull she had toward Miller, how his words made her feel, and how if she was the one he sought, he would cherish her in a way she didn’t deserve, but wanted desperately.
The fear of the fall terrified Hadley most. She knew if her feelings for Miller went unrequited, she would end up buried beneath rock bottom and never escape. In her experience, one didn’t gain anything from taking chances, but Miller made her believe this time the reward would be worth the risk.
Hadley didn’t realize she held the phone in her hands until it began to vibrate. When she glanced at the screen, it showed a new text from PIG. She nearly doubled over in laughter before her shaky finger swiped the screen. Anxiety filled her to the core.
Miller: Did I scare you away, Love?
Did he?
Miller wanted Hadley to let him in, which should send her running. He wanted to heal her, but was that love? She felt love to be a cultivation of feelings by two people who shared an unbreakable connection. Two people who existed solely within each other. Healing nurtured those you love. With time, and a willingness on her part, Hadley felt that perhaps their connection could grow into something more, something meaningful. Without further hesitation, she jumped.
Hadley: No. I’m here and a little shocked.
Miller: And scared I presume?
Hadley: Yes, a little.
Miller: Don’t be.
Hadley: I’m trying.
Miller: Let’s just chat, okay?
Hadley: Okay…are you doing okay? Have they hurt you?
Miller: As I stated in my letter, no questions about my detainment.
Hadley: Right...okay then, you missed a question ;)
Her referral to the question about his arousal in the elevator made him smile.
Miller: So I did, but I think you know the answer.
Hadley flushed red before replying.
Hadley: Because you’re a Pig? Lol
Miller: Very funny, Ms. Walker. How was work today?
Hadley: It was okay. My boss surprised me. He’s usually such an ass!
Miller: Yes, I know, but he’s damn good at what he does.
Hadley: True. I guess I should be careful what I say, since you’re a client.
Miller: Don’t worry. I won’t share or pull my account.
Hadley: Good to know.
Miller: Do you have plans on Saturday?
Hadley: I do at 8. There is this guy I’m trying to get to know.
Miller: Lucky guy! Are you occupied at two?
Hadley: No
Miller: Good. You are now. Check with your friend, Mr. Walsh. I’ve made plans for you, but you’ll enjoy yourself more if you have company.
Hadley: Are you going to tell me what these plans are?
