Page 11 of Promise of Punishment

She sets the water next to me and glances at the door, her eyes tightening with thought. “Even if I could help you to the garden wall, I can’t get you over it. I’ll need a ladder, but I haven’t figured out how to get one without drawing attention.”

She’s still trying to help me. “You don’t need a ladder. I just need your phone. I have a friend who can help me.”

“Oh.” Her features fall with the word.

Is she sad to see me go or sad that she couldn’t be the one to get me out of here?

She blinks, and her eyes widen. “There’s no service out here.”

Is that joy in her voice? “I have a plan. I’m going to write a message in your notes with a number. I need you to text it to the person when you have service. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, even as her features fall again. From her back pocket, she produces her phone.

I take it and type a cryptic text.

I’ve been left for dead in the abandoned garden at the back of Hale Manor. I’m too hurt to scale the ten-foot wall. Bring help and get me the fuck out of here. No one can know, especially the owners.

I add his number and give the phone back to her.

She reads it. “You didn’t sign it.”

“He’ll know who it’s from. He won’t text back either. Delete the message and number after you send it. No one can know.”

She nods and pockets the phone. “When do you think he’ll come get you?”

I rest my head against the brick wall. “If you send that when you leave here, hopefully sometime tomorrow afternoon or night.”

Her lips curve with a frown that tugs at my heart. “Will I ever see you again?”

I shake my head.

She bites her bottom lip and stares at the blanket. “Can you at least tell me your name?”

As soon as I tell her, she’ll know who I am and who she’s been helping. It’s better for her if she knows nothing about me. “You can call me whatever you want. Bear. Big guy.”

She laughs, but it lacks enthusiasm. “Will you be needing anything else before you go?”

I shouldn’t say this, but the way she frowns at me, as if I were dying, has me nodding to the space beside me. “I’d like you to sit with me and tell me everything you can about yourself.”

Her face brightens a little. She moves next to me and stretches out her lean legs. It’s hard for me to believe anyone, let alone her father, could ever hurt someone so small.

If she were mine, I’d protect her from everyone and everything. I’d make her smile until tears of happiness filled those citrine eyes.

4

MY BEAR IS GONE

Fable, 17

My heart pinches at the empty shed. Everything I brought to care for the man who once lay inside is gone. “Man” sounds too old. But his body was definitely mature. His shoulders were so broad compared to his waist, and his arms were defined with muscles. He couldn’t shave, and scruff formed, giving him a rugged edge that contrasted with his designer clothes, even in their torn state. When he was in and out of consciousness, I asked him his age. He doesn’t know he confessed he’s twenty-two. Even though I’m young compared to him, I felt like we connected on some level. I asked him his name too, but he didn’t answer.

For now, I’ll call him Bear. My big, beaten, and battered grizzly bear. I can’t say I know what he looks like for sure with how swollen his face had still been when he left, but I could tell he was handsome—like ridiculously handsome. His eyelids hung—possibly from the swelling—in a sultry way, like Elvis Presley. Amara and her daughter, Noah, are fans of the once King of Rock & Roll. The term they use is bedroom eyes. I never thought much about it until Bear. His nose was slightly crooked, but only if you studied it like I did. Could have been recent from the beating. His sculpted cheekbones, as puffy as they were, still belonged on a model’s face. His brown brows were much darker than his lighter hair, but I wouldn’t say he’s blond. Dirty blond, maybe. When he opened his eyes and I finally got to see the color, I had to fight not to smile. I imagined he’d have blue eyes, but this shade reminded me of bluebells that grow in the wild. The flower is my favorite. I love the delicate bell-shaped petals and how they hang as if sad when, in fact, the blooms are thriving.

I didn’t know they were my favorite until we moved here, and I stumbled upon a large flowerbed growing in the nearby woods. The pop of blue against the green leaves and dark tree trunks mesmerized me, much like Bear’s eyes. That discovery led me to download the free plant identifier app, so I could learn the names of such precious wildflowers.

Now, my Bear is gone, back to wherever he came from. Part of me wonders if any of it was real. Who’d believe a story like that?

But the indent in the shed from where he laid for four days is still there. And if I sniff, I can almost smell his cologne. The rich scent of musk, spice, and orange was faint. I hadn’t gotten a good whiff until I got up in his business when I had to move him. I got to enjoy the delicious aroma again the night before he left when I sat beside him.