Chapter 76

The One Where They Race Again

NATE

I reach out to touch the bedding beside me, finding it empty. The sheets are disturbed, the comforter tossed back as if Arielle didn’t have plans to leave for long. Like she got up to use the toilet.

I sigh, laying on my back for a moment to watch the ceiling fan spin round and round. I zone out for a few seconds as I observe it, lost in the motion. I still feel half asleep as I stare off into space and wait for Arielle to return.

Sitting up in bed, I glance at the clock to find that it’s early in the morning—just after two. I lean towards the bathroom in order to get a better look, but I notice that the door is open and the light is turned off. “Arielle?” I call out for her, curious where she went.

I toss the comforter off my body and saunter to the attached bathroom, finding it empty. I shrug and begin to make my way towards the kitchen, feeling rather thirsty. I scurry down the stairs and immediately notice a light on in the kitchen. However, when I step around the corner, it’s also empty.

Where’d she go? Did she go for a walk down to the lake? I quickly grab a bottle of water from the fridge to quench my thirst and walk to the expansive windows, trying to peer through them to see if I can spot her down by the water.

I suddenly hear a noise coming from elsewhere in the house. “Arielle?” I call out for her a second time, very confused as to where she could be. “Where are you?”

There’s no answer, but I hear an unfamiliar noise again. I believe it’s coming from the area of the house with the pool table, so I slowly walk in that direction, trying to make my way in the darkness. Except when I start to near, I notice light spilling into the hallway from that space.

As my foot steps into the light, I finally see her—she’s bound to a chair, her mouth gagged with some sort of material and Ezra and Vivien are on either side of her. Langley is here too, leaning casually against the billiards table.

I try to run to her but I can’t. I’m physically unable to move, despite how hard I try to move my limbs in a frantic panic.

“Let go of her!” I shout at them, but nobody moves.

Arielle’s eyes are wide. She’s clearly frightened as she struggles to free herself. When Ezra pulls out a blade and presses it to her throat, her eyes only grow larger.

“Stop!” I cry, over and over. I urge my feet forwards, finally managing to get them to move but it’s as if I’m running down a never-ending hallway. I can’t reach her. Every step isn’t a step closer, it’s just me idling in the same spot.

Ezra smiles at me, that evil Cheshire Cat grin of his. He pushes the blade harder against her skin, enough to draw small amounts of blood and I feel it too. I touch my neck—in the same spot that he’s cut her—and draw my hands back to find blood on my fingertips.

I touch it again and it only welcomes more redness.

“Please,” I beg of him, “You don’t have to do this. I did everything you wanted!”

He shakes his head and finally speaks, “You did the one thing I told you not to—you saw her.”

Within a blink of my eyes, now it’s Vivien holding the blade against her own daughter’s throat. Tears stream from Arielle’s beautifully green eyes and I watch as her fingernails dig into the leather arms of the chair.

“Please,” I plead again, “If it means saving her, I’ll never see her again. I promise.” I sink to my knees on the cold hardwood flooring, still trying to crawl to her. Every movement I make feels like hundreds of tiny shards of glass slicing every inch of my flesh, but it’s nothing in comparison to seeing her like this.

I desperately try to crawl, but every time I glance back up at her, I’m no closer.

“Ezra, you can take my life in place of hers, please. Don’t hurt her.”

Suddenly Ezra kneels beside me and he grabs my head. He forcefully maneuvers me until I’m looking right at Arielle. I can’t look away because he’s holding my head in a position that is facing directly at her. I want to force my eyes closed because something deep inside me tells me to not view this, but I can’t.

“You can’t be trusted, Nate.” His voice sends a ripple down my spine. A painful ripple, as if each vertebra is breaking in succession. “Now, Vivien.”

I watch as she slowly drags the knife across Arielle’s throat and blood squirts from her neck. The last thing I hear is a strangled scream—one that erupts from her lungs, bubbling with the freshness of seeping blood.

I wake with a gasp, clutching my chest. I sit up and in a panic, glance around the room to find Arielle. I’m relieved to find her fast asleep beside me, but my heart still hammers wildly in my chest. Wetness stains my cheeks and I sink my head into my hands.

Holy fuck, that felt so fucking real. I exhale shakily, grabbing the glass of water at my bedside to take a sip. I carefully place it back down to ensure I don’t wake Arielle and then I position myself to peer down at her.

She’s sleeping so peacefully. I delicately brush hair off her skin to expose her neck for my own sanity. When I can clearly see that she’s fine and safe, my heart rate begins to slow back down.

I take a deep breath and look out the window. I can see the sun beginning to rise and I’m not surprised.

These fucking nightmares. I’ve been having them ever since prison, ever since experiencing some of the things I had to go through working with Ezra. Usually, in the dreams it’s me that gets injured. It’s typically some sort of reliving of my gunshot or stab wound. It’s a re-traumatization of either event.

I always wake up in a cold sweat, confused and in pain. Something about the nightmares brings actual physical ailment to my body. It’s almost like a phantom pain where both wounds are. If I dream of being shot again, the pain is localized there. If I have a nightmare of being stabbed, then it’s there.

However, I’ve never dreamt of her getting injured. Of feeling helpless and unable to save her no matter how hard I try. And what a way to dream of it. Seeing Vivien slice that knife across Arielle’s throat with a cold, blank look in her eyes was fucking traumatizing,

But what made it worse is the fact that I was unable to help her. That, no matter how hard I fought, no matter what I said or did, it resulted in her dying.

My mind flashes with ideas of what the dream could mean, what it could potentially represent or be alluding to, but I shove those thoughts right into my brains rubbish bin. I’m not even giving that shit the light of day.

I get off the bed and head for my luggage. Carefully, I pluck through my things until I find a fresh pair of boxer-briefs. I change into them and pull a pair of gym shorts up my legs. Taking a final peek at Arielle’s sleeping frame, I press a kiss to her temple and then tiptoe my way out of the bedroom.

Before heading downstairs, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The moment I step into the gym, I feel a bit more at ease. The room is impressive, filled with expensive gear and equipment. The windows overlook the lake and there’s a massive television on the one wall. I spot an attached bathroom as well, which will come in handy after my workout.

I eye up the punching bag. It’ll be a good way to let out my anger and frustration. I saunter to the nearby stereo system and turn on some tunes on a low volume.

I start throwing punches into the bag, thinking about the conversation I had with Arielle yesterday in the hot tub. I don’t know what made me think to ask her about her thoughts on marriage and having a family. Maybe it’s these nightmares I’ve been having where Ezra basically kills me over and over. Maybe it’s making me think I should settle down.

However, right before going off to prison, I had full plans to propose to Arielle. After being forced to stay away from her that first time, I’d had enough. I wanted to somehow make it permanent—a way to tie her to me for life so that Ezra could physically spot that ring on her finger and realize that I’m not going anywhere.

I still feel the same. I still want to marry Arielle. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s the woman I would like to have a family with and settle down.

However, I don’t think either of us are ready for those things.

I was once ready to propose, but shit has changed in the last few months. We’ve both been through a lot of trauma and heartache in these last few months that I believe both of us just need to breathe for a second.

I can’t lie, though, seeing her clam up a bit at the mention of marriage and kids has me a little upset. Of course, it’s upsetting to hear that the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with is scared of such a commitment.