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All the oxygen seemed to leave the room. Sarah couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them.He thinks I’ve betrayed him.
She stepped towards him, arms outstretched. He grasped her wrist to stop her in her tracks.
‘I would never lie to you,’ she insisted.
His glare burnt through her.
‘Nothing has been decided. He found me. I listened. I came home to you.’
He continued to glare.
She glanced at her wrist, still held hostage by his metal grip.
‘You’re hurting me, Alex.’
Her arm stayed suspended for a moment once he let go, his fingers imprinted on her skin. He swallowed hard, something akin to regret flashed across his face for a second. Sarah stood her ground.
‘I did not go to the police. Tom found me.’
They held each other’s gaze, neither prepared to give way.
She took another breath. ‘Alex, please, just hear him out.’
He closed his eyes, locking her out of his inner battle.
But she wasn’t going to give up easily.
‘I would never go to the police. Tom found me, he found us. He said he approached me because he knew you’d probably kill him before he could even speak.’
He stood before her, hatred radiating through the stone facade. He was gone from her reach again.
‘Please, just talk to him. He’s staying at the Hotel Medieval, not far from here.’
Sarah felt the shift inside. The heat still consumed her but it had changed in nature. The fear was being worn down, replaced by her own anger.
‘We have no other options, Alex and I’m tired of running. I’ve made my mind up.’ She paused long enough to know that she was sure. ‘I’m going to work with Tom. Maybe he won’t be able to keep me alive. But I can’t just sit here waiting for the next attack. I need to try.’
His silence was worse than the accusations. She didn’t bother trying to understand what he might be thinking. He would never let her in. She had her plan and he had his, whatever that may be.
He moved past her, heading for the stairs. She stood her ground despite the malice that emanated, threatening to knock her from her feet. The stairs creaked and she sensed rather than heard him move around the bedroom. A moment later, the front door closed.
When Alex was young,maybe eight or nine years old, he used to get so angry that the world would dissolve into a haze of red. Red was all he could see. It seemed to block all his other senses as well. He would become deaf to all sounds except the roar inside his head that overpowered his ability to think straight. If someone tried to touch him, he would erupt in a wild rage, like a caged and tortured animal. All of his emotions would bubble together like hydrogen, racing to the surface, and when they found oxygen… boom!
Once it was in motion, he couldn’t stop it. He demolished bedrooms and classrooms, uncaring of anything or anyone in his way. The trigger wouldn’t be something big, but something he wouldn’t see coming. That was the problem. Alex would be minding his own business when out of nowhere, the red rage would strike.
The outcome was always expulsion from school or a new foster home, sometimes both. He never made it to juvenile detention. In hindsight, he kind of wished he had. At least he would’ve had somewhere to stay for a couple of years, rather than being shipped around. Not once did he see a psychologist or counselor. Surely, they make you see a shrink in juvie? He just got moved on. Always someone else’s problem.
After a couple of years, he learnt to go numb - all the time. It was the only way he could exist. Don’t feel. It made his life a little easier in that he generally stayed at each foster home more than a couple of months. But it didn’t buy him any sympathy or consideration. By his early teens, he realized most people were scared of him.
With Sarah, he let his guard down, he let himself feel. And without warning, the red rage came over him. How could she get cops involved? Why would she do that? He knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but he also didn’t want to control it. He took all of his inner strength to leave the apartment without putting any holes in walls or smashing furniture. Maybe he had grown up a little. But he hadn’t realized how firm his grip had been on Sarah’s wrist. He wouldn’t hurt her though. He couldn’t, not ever.
This new situation, this cop. It was intolerable. He didn’t care about the lies that had obviously been fed to Sarah, Alex knew that going to the police would never work. It couldn’t. That’s even if he was a cop. Tom… Tom Nable? It didn’t ring any bells. It’s not as though he could have him checked out through his old channels. He’d have to do it himself.
Why couldn’t Sarah leave well enough alone? He would have figured out a way to get them out of this eventually. He thought she wanted to work with him. Going to the cops wasn’t his idea of a team effort. And now he had a new problem to deal with.
Alex didn’t know the hotel Sarah had mentioned. He stopped in his tracks to get his bearings. Blind rage had moved him forward - he’d paid no attention to the path he’d taken - and it appeared he was several blocks past the main square. The wooden water wheel turned slowly next to the old church. He knew this street, Rue des Teinturiers. It was full of galleries, cafes and restaurants. And tourists.
He crossed the narrow road to stand in front of the water wheel. It took only another moment for a group of tourists equipped with sensible shoes and cameras to arrive. The guide gave the usual spiel about it being the only working water wheel of the four that ran the looms of the cotton dyers, which was how the street got its name. When she paused for the group to take their photos, Alex sprang into action.
