Page 17 of Traces of Kara

“A week ago, maybe. I’m not sure.”

Mimi’s mind ran in circles. She looked around the apartment as if it might hold the answer to Kara’s whereabouts. “If you see her, can you tell her I’m looking for her?”

“Sure, but don’t hold your breath. She still hasn’t forgiven me for lying about work.”

“I’m sorry,” Mimi said. A woman’s voice filtered through the phone, a whisper in the background. Mimi pursed her lips. Kara. “Is that her, Daryl? If she’s mad at me, please tell her—”

“It’s not, Mimi. That was…the television.”

Right.

If her daughter wanted to avoid her, that was one thing, but to get mad at her about Daryl when all the while she was making up with him, well, that just wasn’t fair. Mimi stomped up the sidewalk and rapped on Daryl’s door. Her lips were pinched tight, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She tapped her foot. She wouldn’t let anyone toy with her emotions. How dare she! And to think, she’d been feeling guilty all night and day. She’d tell her daughter a thing or two, and she wasn’t going to start with, “I’m sorry.”

What on earth was taking Daryl so long to open the door?

Mimi peered in through the sidelight. His car was in the driveway, the lights were on. Really, did he think he could hide from her? She knocked again. “Daryl, I know she’s in there.”

“Damn it, Daryl,” Mimi huffed, and headed back to her car.

Chapter Fifteen

Roland laid Marissa down gently on the concrete floor. If he’d known she’d run, he’d have kept her tied up. Look at her now: blood on her cheeks and wrists, deep pits in her nose, scratches on her arms. She was covered with coal dust. Purple bruises were already rising to the surface of her skin.

He reached for the jug of antifreeze, pouring out just enough to complete his plan—born together, die together—and took a swig. He swallowed the liquid as if it were liquor, in one quick gulp, relishing the taste of what would bring him to the other side of this terrible world. He held Marissa’s hand, knowing what he had to do, and ruing it just the same. He couldn’t take the chance of her running again. He bound her hands with tape, murmuring to himself.

His mother’s voice came back to him. “I can’t be trusted. My hands,” she’d said, and looked at her hands as if they’d belonged to someone else. “I just can’t chance slipping again, hurting Marissa. She’s your responsibility, Roland. You must take care of her.” Roland reached up and touched the hills and valleys of his scars. He’d take care of Marissa. No one would take her away again. The memory played over and over in his mind, his promise engrained. “No slippery fingers,” he mumbled.

Roland sat next to her, sweating, scratching his hands raw. Bits of skin and blood flecked the floor beneath them. “Keep you safe,” he mumbled.

She awoke with a cough and a loud moan. She lay on the floor, her arms bound, her body curled into a fetal position. Her swollen eyelids forced her eyes into painful slits. Marissa turned her head in his direction, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Help me, Roland, please help me,” she whispered.

“I am helping you,” he said.

Sobs pushed forth from Marissa’s chest. She raised her bound hands to her bruised face. She flinched, her face contorted with pain.

Roland watched with sadness. Why did she have to run? “Like when we were young. Remember? Remember how I kept you safe?”

She looked up at him with hatred in her eyes. A spear shot through Roland’s heart.

“No,” she sobbed. “You didn’t help me, Roland.”

He turned his body toward her, raising his voice. “How can you say that? I kept you safe!”

“You’re insane,” she spat.

He stood and paced. “No, no I’m not. You told me, Marissa. You told me!”

“I didn’t tell you shit.”

“You said I wasn’t crazy. You said you loved me.”

“When did Marissa tell you that? When?” she yelled.

“When…when they were taking you away from me. Don’t you remember? You were so little. All I wanted was to protect you.”

Marissa pushed herself up with a cry, stumbled, and leaned against the pole she’d been tied to earlier. “You’re crazy,” she seethed.

“I’m not crazy. You told me so. You promised.”