Elastic Heart (6 page)

I thought that would be the worst of it, but then the police reported me to Morris. I woke up the next morning to a fleet of news reporters on my lawn. I guessed I had gotten what I wanted. They reported my story, but it wasn’t mine. It was twisted, tawdry, and it annihilated me.

What the police did was completely illegal of course, but who was I going to call? The police?

The news reporters wouldn’t leave. They were calling me the new Monica Lewinsky (and those were the
nice
reporters). Others called me whore, slut, and liar.

I got hate mail. I got death threats.

I couldn’t go to class.

I dropped out of school.

I didn’t leave my house for months. I lived off the small inheritance I had from my parent’s death until it ran out. Then I applied for nightshift jobs until someone hired me. It was simpler to work at night, under the cover of darkness where I wasn’t easily recognized.

Like I was a vampire or some shit.

While the lab wasn’t my own, it felt like it. I was the only one who worked the graveyard shift. I had my own key, an entire facility to myself, and I left before anyone on the morning shift arrived. It was peaceful and uncomplicated.

The only time I went out in the day was to occasionally spy on Morris. Or to get a coffee…but look how that turned out.

“There are no words to describe that douche hole. Maybe cock knob.” Law paused as if thinking seriously and then said, “Perhaps Satan’s twat.” Law shook his head. “Still not right.”  

I coughed. “Excuse me?”

Law rounded me. Despite numerous self pep talks and online rape recovery groups, I still crumbled when a tall figure came at me. I flinched, expecting to be beat up. Law probably thought I was lying, just like everyone else, and was going to teach me a lesson. I’d received numerous letters and emails delineating what people were going to do to me…but Law just passed me and went into my kitchen. The breath I was holding released.

“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice still shaking a bit.

Law opened my fridge. “You got a beer?” Raskol bounded in after him, because any time someone was in the kitchen it meant something was in it for him.

“Uh… I have whiskey,” I replied, hoping the confusion I felt wasn’t obvious.

Closing the fridge, Law turned his assault on my cabinets. “Even better.”

Returning with a bottle of whiskey in tow and Raskol hot on his heels, Law sat down on my coffee table and took a swig. “Tell me everything.”

It felt like ice had been poured over my head. I stared at Law, unblinking, for what seemed like hours. He took slow slips of my whiskey (my
good
whiskey), and watched me carefully. The realization of what was happening didn’t occur quickly. It came slowly, like the tide rising over the sands of my own mind.

“What? No.” I raised my hands, shaking them as I tried to regain some control. Tell him everything? The last people I had told everything to were the police, and that had backfired tremendously. I still had no reason to trust Law. The fact was I knew nothing about Law other than he worked for Morris in some capacity. I was already being an idiot letting him inside my home. And letting him drink my only good whiskey!

“I can help,” Law said.

I kicked my heel against the back of the couch, the pain clearing my mind. “By reporting me to Morris? Look, you can tell him I’m done, okay? I won’t do anything any more. He’s made his point.” And he had. Clearly I was in over my head. I just wanted justice, but this wasn’t some comic book. When people like me try to get justice, people like Morris send Law. If I kept going, I would probably end up dead.

Some days that felt like the best option, but most days I knew better.

“What are you talking about?” Law asked, coming to sit by me. “Why would I report you to Morris?”

I eyed him, feeling hate and loathing seep out of me like sweat. “Because you work for him. Don’t fuck with me.”

“I don’t work for Morris.” Law looked at me as if I were speaking in tongues. He leaned forward, just enough that I could smell him. He smelled good, if I was being honest, like wood and campfire smoke and something else…something rich that I couldn’t quite place. Trying to put space between us, I stood up and walked to the other end of the room.

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “So you can go ahead and stop talking right now. I
know
you work for him. I saw you two together and I heard everything.”

“I don’t know what you heard, Nami,” Law said, taking a step toward me. I immediately stepped backward, tripping over a pair of shoes I’d left out. I hated this, absolutely hated it. I wanted to stand tall and not let Law bully me, but goddamn I was so afraid.

It was a visceral response now. I didn’t get to make the decisions any more. I didn’t get to choose to stand tall. The minute Law stepped toward me I cowered. Fear wasn’t a choice; fear was my constant state of mind.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Law said, his voice lower and calmer, as if talking to a frightened cat. Maybe I was a frightened cat. I felt ashamed and embarrassed.

“Whatever,” I said, turning my head so I didn’t have to look at him. “Anything that comes out of your mouth is a lie, so you can go ahead and stop trying.” And why was he trying? Was Morris so obsessed with me that he’d hired this actor to lull me back into a false sense of security? Well, I wouldn’t be lulled. I would never, repeat: never, let myself be vulnerable again.

Law touched my chin and I jerked it away. Taken aback by his sudden advancement, I stumbled back and fell on my ass. “What the hell do you want with me?” I screamed so loud Raskol barked.

“I don’t want anything,” Law said, sounding nonplussed. “I’m just trying to explain myself.”

“No need!” I said, scrambling to my feet. “I know who you are and who you work for.”

“Oh yeah?” Law said, aggression starting to tinge his words. “Tell me then, Nami, tell me how you know so much about me.”

“I
heard
you talking to Morris. I know you work for him. I know you’re just as bad. Did he hire you to keep an eye on me? I don’t fucking care. Get the fuck out of my house before I shoot you!” I lunged for my .22 and pulled it out of my purse before Law could stop me. Law didn’t even try to stop me, though. As I aimed the cannon at his head, he merely cocked his own in slight amusement.

“Have you even shot a gun before?” Law asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Law. I won’t be raped again,” I growled, adjusting my finger on the trigger. Law’s eyes widened. I wanted to believe he was finally taking me seriously and starting to fear my trigger finger, but I doubted it. In the short time we’d known each other, my gun had been on him multiple times and he’d never batted an eye. If I’d had to bet money on what rocked Law’s calm, almost callous demeanor, it would have been my accusation.

“What?” I demanded. “Don’t act like that wasn’t the plan, Law. You’re Morris’s lapdog. He hired you either to fuck me or groom me so he could do it again.” Law’s jaw ticked, anger evident on his face. I bit my own lip, fear crawling down my spine. Was this it? Was he going to make his move?

“You know
nothing
about me,” Law growled, stepping forward so his chest was pressed flat against the gun. I swallowed.

I kept the gun steady, pressed against the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll shoot you before I let Morris get me again.”

“Good.”

“W-what?” I stuttered, having not expected that reply. “Did you hear me? I said I’ll shoot you—”

“Good,” Law repeated. Stepping even closer, Law pushed me flat against the wall. The muzzle was buried in his chest but I wasn’t naive enough to think I held the power in the situation. “You should shoot anyone who threatens you. Including me.”

My eyes widened. I stared into his hazel eyes, looking for a clue to the game he was playing. Nothing. He was locked tight. All humor from before had vanished. His jaw was clenched, the five o’clock shadow looking less sexy and more menacing. I swallowed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, voice small. Law stepped back and I sucked in all the oxygen I hadn’t known I was missing.

“I don’t work for Morris.”

I scoffed. Yeah right. Law grabbed my chin and pulled my gaze to his. “I do not work for Morris.”

I tried to yank my chin back but he held it firmly between his fingers. Giving up momentarily, I asked him the questions that had been plaguing me since our first encounter. “Then why were you with him? And why are you following me?”

“I work for GEM, a company that handles politicians like Morris. As for you…” Law dropped my chin, his gaze going cloudy. A few minutes passed and I wondered if he was ever going to give me his excuse. Just as I was about to call him on his bullshit, Law spoke. “I already told you why I came after you.”

“Because of my face?” I laughed bitterly. “Because you’ve seen my ‘look’ before? Really? I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want, Nami,” Law replied, voice hard like granite. I turned away so I didn’t have to battle with his intense stare.

“I will. And I choose to believe you’re a liar.” I returned my gaze to his, clashing my glare with his for a good two minutes until he said, “I’ll prove you wrong.” I blinked, caught off guard.

Law didn’t give me a chance to respond. He walked out of my apartment, leaving the door open as he went. I followed his trail, watching him leave in simultaneous resentment and awe. I only closed the door when I was sure he wasn’t coming back.

Curled in a ball, I sat on the floor of my living room for hours after Law left. I had my red fleece blanket wrapped around me and Raskol slept inside, oblivious to the bitter reason for the warm cocoon. I was wrecked and warped after Law, not sure what to believe or feel. I wanted to believe Law was good, not because he looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, but because I was so utterly and desperately lonely.

I had no allies.

No friends.

No family.

I wasn’t living in a cartoon so Raskol couldn’t talk back to me. It didn’t take a degree to diagnose me with depression. I was beyond depressed. I was dragged down and disconsolate. I was over the cliff and lost to the rocks.

Fuck Law for making me think I could be anything else.

My laptop sat in the only corner with a working jack, the blue power light blinking lazily. I needed to research Law’s claims. The sooner I did that, the quicker I could forget Law and his gorgeous, lying face. First and foremost: the company he worked for. With Raskol safely asleep in my arms, I carried my laptop to the couch and started to dig.

I searched for GEM on the internet and at first nothing came up. I was expecting GEM to have a website, the same way all companies have websites, but they didn’t, so I searched instead for GEM and politics, and that’s when an entire slew of articles hit me.

Apparently GEM owned a bunch of shady super PACS that they use to donate to and fund campaigns. GEM was just one of the names the umbrella corporation went by. It was unsettling, to say the least, when I recognized some of the other names as products I bought for hair care, food, and just general appliances.

GEM owned everything from car companies to candy companies, and had been responsible for every sundry and terrible thing from oil spills to slavery in Africa.

Head spinning, I closed my laptop. Law was telling the truth, at least. If he worked for GEM, he wasn’t working for Morris. He was probably just doing GEM’s dirty work and funding another campaign. Somehow, I still didn’t feel that much better about him. Law worked for a company that condoned environmental destruction and slavery.

How much better could he be?

I used to have a gut feeling. That is, I could trust my gut about people. If my gut said someone was all right, then I would listen. I no longer had a gut feeling, because my gut had been utterly eviscerated after Morris. I had no idea if Law was good or bad. Working for a bad person didn’t necessarily mean you were bad. I understood that the same way I understood living in a country with a corrupt government doesn’t mean you’re corrupt.

Without my gut, though, I was blind.

I shoved my laptop aside and sunk into the couch. The TV’s blank face stared back at me. I hadn’t watched TV in months. Every single aspect of my mind had been captivated by Morris. What did I like any more? Did I still like
Friends
? Did I still like
Buffy
? Pulling the blanket from the top of the couch, I clicked the TV on and waited patiently for Netflix to scroll across the screen.

I selected
Psych
and as Sean and Gus started their antics, I didn’t laugh. I knew it was funny, I’d laughed before, but something inside me was broken.

I felt like screaming. Even watching one of my favorite shows, I couldn’t forget about Morris.

He’d taken so much from me. He’d taken my future, my reputation, and now he’d taken Sean and Gus.

It was time he had something taken from him.

I could feel my soul slipping away like sand through my fingers. As Mitch Morris moved around the parking lot, the shutter clicks sounded on my camera and the sand slipped faster. I needed to catch him. I was a spider in a web and he was the fly constantly torturing me, buzzing just overhead. I was starving. He was the meal I would never eat.