To Murder Matt (12 page)

***

N
ow standing looking at her reflection in the mirror, a grown woman, her hair disheveled, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and various cuts, her left eye swelling shut and bruised, the smell of his urine on her, she spat into the sink and wondered what she had done to deserve this? How had she upset him? What had she done wrong this time?

She spat into the sink; the saliva was tinged with blood. She watched it move slowly towards the plughole. Turning on the tap to wash it away, she started the regular chore of washing and then hiding her injuries.

That evening, after dinner, Matt sat outside on the terrace beside the pool. It was a lovely evening. The sun had set in the distance; the sea was a deep red where the sun was disappearing over the horizon. Matt sat in the fading light waiting for Veronique to join him. She had excused herself. She was behaving oddly; as if hiding a secret. Maybe, she had a lover, something he had forbidden. She was to have no one, but himself. He would have to get her to tell him the truth, whoever the guy was; he would find him and beat him to a pulp. Kill him if necessary. Matt’s anger was rising. How dare she keep him waiting like this? It was almost dark and Veronique had still not returned to his side. How dare she make him wait? After all he had done for her. The ungrateful bitch. He would teach her a lesson. He smiled, as he mentally saw her on her knees to him, begging him to stop. His eyes turned to the house as he heard a noise.

Veronique was coming through the patio doors. She walked along the edge of the patio by the pool. Her beautiful delicate form reflected in the mirror still water, lights inside the house reflected back at her, lighting her body and features as she knelt and felt the temperature. Her hair fell forward and the light behind her shone through the wispy strands. A breeze formed small ripples along the surface of the pool. Veronique stood up, suddenly sensing she was being watched. She had goose pimples on her arms, and she shivered involuntarily. She was unaware of his presence as he sat in the now dark terrace.

“Good evening, Veronique.” She froze at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t see him, but she turned to where the voice came from. He spoke again.

“Who is he?”

“Who?”

“Your lover?”

“I don’t have a lover.”

“Wrong!” He came out of the darkness that had hidden him, and stood before her; his eyes full of dark rage. “Now try again.”

“I...I...don’t have a lover...” He started to smile.

“I know you. I know when you lie. I know all about you. Everything. You are lying now.” A slow grin spread across his face, and before she even realized what was happening she felt his hand on her face. A loud stinging slap that caught her already sore bruises, and caused her ears to ring. She fell to the ground as he raised his fist again, she curled into a fetal position, and he grabbed her from the floor by the hair. He pulled her towards the edge of the pool.  In the split second that she looked up, she saw him laughing, his eyes filled with a maniacal glow. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, twisting her arm behind her back in the process. She screamed, a muffled scream to her still ringing ears.

“I said... who...is... he?” He was shouting right by her ear, but his voice sounded so far away, and although the ringing was fading, she still couldn’t hear him. “Who? It’s a simple enough question. Now answer me.” His voice bellowed out of control. He had never been like this before, so angry. His eyes were wild with fury, his grip on her wrists causing her, even more, excruciating pain.

“Honestly, I swear it. I don’t have a lover.” He laughed, the moment she said it.

“If you think I am going to believe that!”

“It’s true, it's true.” She began to sob.

He roared with rage and hit her, a punch landing on the side of her head. It threw her sideways. Losing her balance, she fell straight into the cool waters of the pool. She felt relief and softness, just before she passed out. Everything suddenly became black, totally dark and almost comforting.

When she opened her eyes she was looking at the stars twinkling against the dark sky. She was enveloped in perfect comfort, her whole body soothed and relaxed. Her temple throbbed, her mouth and jaw were sore but apart from this, she felt ok. She moved and suddenly she was no longer floating; she realized she was in the pool and she was floating fully dressed. She moved across to the side and walked up the stairs. Now the water was no longer supporting her, there was not a bone or muscle in her body that didn’t hurt or ache. She rubbed her sore wrist, felt her throbbing temple and sat on the edge of the stairs leading into the water. Her shoes were still on her feet and under the water. Her head was spinning, so she stayed there. She murmured a silent prayer.

“Help me, God.” Without help, she didn’t think she would ever be able to escape him. Matt was totally obsessed. He loved her and yet he could only love her when he hurt her. How long before he loved her so much, that he killed her? As her headache started to ease, she felt her will strengthening and a plan formulating on the outer edges of her mind. If she could change everything about herself, her name, her looks, her job, go far away, everything. She had a chance of living, but nobody, nobody that presently knew her must know of this, nor of who she was to become. No one must lead him to her. A sharp pain flooded her senses, and she blacked out once more, but not before a sense of purposes had stirred within her.

***

M
arie hadn’t seen Veronique since her own return to the ship, and now almost an hour after sailing, Veronique hadn’t even phoned to tell her she was back. Locking the glass door of the shop, Marie slipped the keys into her pocket and walked briskly towards the stairs. The staff deck, several decks below those of the passengers, was quiet and so Marie went directly to Veronique’s cabin instead of returning to her own. She tapped lightly at the door. There was no reply and so she took her own spare key and opened the door.

Inside, the room was in utter chaos. Clothes were scattered on the bed and torn stockings were draped over the back of the chair. Marie looked around and surveyed the untidiness before her. Hearing the shower in the bathroom, she walked over to the door. Steam filled the room and Marie tapped lightly to announce her arrival. Water was hitting the glass panel and splashing back. In the corner, on the floor and crouched in a fetal position, was Veronique. Water was cascading around her and swirling down the plug.

“Veronique, ma Cherie, what happened? Oh my God.”

Veronique jumped at the sound of the voice. She hadn’t even heard Marie come in. Marie switched off the water and leant down to hold her friend. She held her for a moment and gently rocked her before asking again.

“What happened, my love?” She looked at her lover’s bruised and battered face, feeling sudden sadness and anger constrict her own throat. She moved back and noted the bump on her temple, the bleeding cuts, the swollen lip, the black eye and the red welts on her wrist and bruises up and down the length of her arms. Veronique said nothing but sobbed quietly. Her normally strong personality and character now lost in a childlike need for protection, and a mother’s love.

“Come with me. I will help get you sorted out.” Marie helped Veronique stand. She helped her into the warm and fluffy toweling robe.  Veronique leant into her as they walked into her bedroom.

“I was mugged, I am just...” her eyes looked down as she spoke.  “How did I get here?  How did I get back to the ship?”  She vaguely remembered being carried, but didn’t know by whom. Whoever it was, she was grateful to him, her knight in shining armour.

“Don’t worry about that now; you are here and safe. You’re in shock.”

Veronique sobbed at the kindness that Marie was showing her; here she was lying to her lover and best friend. Her whole life was a lie. Marie was the only person who had been by her side all these years, and she never knew the real her. She couldn’t reveal her heartache or her anguish, nor could she tell her that she was going to have to leave, plan a whole new life without her, without even saying goodbye. Veronique sobbed again.

“There, there, it will all be ok. I will look after you. Just relax.” She popped Veronique into bed and pulled the covers over her. “I will get Richard to pop in and see you. Check you over; maybe give you a pill to help you rest. I think you need to fill in a police report too. Whoever did this to you should be locked up and put away.”

Veronique stiffened at the thought of involving the police and all the repercussions it would entail.

“No, I didn’t see who it was. It was all so sudden. I can’t tell them anything.”

“Shhh, Just rest, maybe it will come back to you later, any small detail may help.” Marie kissed her gently on the forehead and patted her hand. “I’ll be right here, by your side. Someone can cover my duties tonight.” She picked up the phone and called the ship’s doctor. “Richard, could you kindly come to Veronique’s cabin right away?”

Later, after the doctor had been and sedated Veronique, there was a knock at the door. It was the captain. Marie’s surprise at his appearance was obvious on her face.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, Captain,” Marie was flustered and stepped back to let him in. “She is resting. She was mugged. The doctor thought it best that she rest, and so he has sedated her.”

He nodded and looked over to the sleeping form on the bed. He walked over and put his hand on Veronique’s hand.

“Can you leave us alone for a moment?” Marie looked perplexed and suddenly felt very protective of Veronique.

“I promised her I would not leave her side.”

“It’s alright Marie, I would not hurt her, nor behave improperly. Kindly wait outside the door just for a moment.” She hesitated, and then quietly left the room, the door clicking quietly behind her as she left.

Nico sat on the bed. Veronique was sleeping deeply. Her chest rising and falling evenly. She was very pale, her hair was limp, and a large plaster was covering a stitched cut on a red and sore looking lump. Marie and the doctor had done their best, but it was obvious she was not well. He leant forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead, his hand covered hers protectively.

As he moved back, her eyes flickered and opened briefly. They did not show recognition, only momentary fear, and then they closed again. Nico leant forward and whispered in her ear.

“You do not realize it my love, but I love you. I will always love you.” In her slumber, Veronique groaned, her head moving slowly from side to side.

“No Matt,” she mumbled, “No, I shall escape you.” She tried to lash out, but her weak efforts meant her arms raised only a few inches off the bed. He touched her arm to calm her. He was shocked to see the severe bruising under the edges of her pyjama top.

“It’s all right. You are safe.” He repeated the words over and over again until her restless sleep calmed.

When she opened her eyes there was a fuzzy; white blur sat by her bed. She felt so sleepy. Her eyes were so heavy, every thing felt as though it was in slow slow motion. Someone was sitting by her bed, and she tried hard to focus. She could see the pale outline of a white jacket from the low light in the room. Light glinted off the buttons. Her head ached and the dull throb clouded her thoughts. She lay back again and waited for the pain to subside. Whoever was with her, had fallen asleep in the chair. Must be the doctor, she thought. She felt safe and drifted back to sleep. Matt haunted her dreams. She saw her life right from the beginning, from the first time he had touched her and manipulated her. It was a cinematic full Technicolour production. Every sadistic smile of his, every touch that had made her skin crawl, every act of brain washing and mind control that he had ever done to her. He had purposefully groomed and molded her to be his sex slave, his plaything, forever. He had never shown her the true kindness and the love of a brother, but instead had been more evil than the worst of men. She had unwittingly, through the lost innocence of her childhood, been oblivious to his true masochistic nature, giving of herself fully, and believing that this was how a loving brother treated a sister he loved. After all, he told her he loved her, didn’t he? How would she know the difference, if this were all he showed her? She moaned in her sleep at the dawning realization of everything she had been through. In her dreams, she decided she would never see her brother again, ever.

She was brought back to the painful reality of life when she tried to move. She groaned and slowly tried to reposition herself in the bed. At her side, Nico woke up and leant forward into the light over her bed.

Veronique stopped, her heart suddenly beating faster as the adrenaline hit her system and her fear levels went through the roof. She raised her hand to her temple as the pain suddenly increased ten thousand fold to match her raised heartbeat. “Shh, quiet. You’re safe.” His voice spoke softly and his eyes were full of concern. He raised his hand to soothe her brow, and she flinched, just at his sudden movement. He stopped for a second until she relaxed a little, and then slowly, gently traced her brow with his thumb to soothe her. She was as nervous as a skittish mare. Horses were once his thing and when he was a boy, he rode all day and night around his family’s farm. He recognized her temperament was like a scared horse, and he treated her with the same gentleness, he had treated the horses in that past.

“Captain, what are you doing here?” Her voice was a croaking whisper that seemed, to her, to boom across the room.

“I wanted to be sure you were all right. Do you remember what happened?”

“I...I...was...mugged.”

“Really? Where?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember how many there were?”

“One...maybe two.” She winced in pain.

“I shall contact the police and ask them to come in and take your statement. Tomorrow you may remember more.”

“No! Please don’t, please.” Her hand reached out and held his for a moment “Please I can’t. You don’t understand.”

He looked at her pale vulnerability. Where was the strong woman who always held him in check; the woman he battled with verbally? The woman who had been the thorn in his side in every respect these past years? He didn’t recognize the spiritually and emotionally broken woman before him now. He felt his anger rising, felt the protection she needed. He had failed her when she had needed him. He would have made sure she was ok and safe. It was his job as the man who loved her, to ensure she was never harmed, or in harm’s way again. He had seen the marks on her wrist, the bruises; and he knew a random mugger hadn’t done this. A mugger would make a flash attack, grabbed a bag, run away. The attack would have been shocking, but over in seconds. This had been a beating; a very severe beating and probably by someone she knew. A beating that had inflicted all these injuries, was not a mugging, it was an out and out attack. But why would she protect her attacker? It had to be someone she knew and he had an idea of who it could be, because at the moment, none of her mugging story was making sense.