“Avery, stop.” He shrieks, as my nails catch the skin on his chest, and he dances away from me. “I’m so sorry, so sorry I did it this way. I shouldn’t have. I know that now. I had no idea you were this far gone—”
He says things, his voice soft and coaxing, but they wash over me. I’m stuck in my head, trying my best to live through another horrible day, forcing up walls wherever I can so I can look at myself in the mirror tomorrow. When I reach for his belt this time, I manage to get the buckle open.
Marty stands there, stunned, with his mouth hanging open, and his eyes go blank like he can’t believe this is really happening. The heavy metal buckle flicks open and falls to the side. When I reach for the button to his jeans, he snaps out of it. Marty’s hands fly to my wrists. He shoves me away, but I won’t stop. I have to finish. I have to do this.
White spots blink like stars in my field of vision as I reach for his waistband again and the room tips sideways. I stumble and blink a few times as a flood of heat hits me hard. It courses through my veins, from my toes to my eyelashes like an inferno.
Instead of swatting me away this time, Marty’s hand darts out and takes hold of my wrist, pulling it high above my head. The motion forces me to stop. My feet are nearly off the ground when he tilts his chin down and breathes in my face. His voice is shaking, and comes out in a register so low that I can feel the force behind each staccato word. “For once in your goddamn life let someone else help you.”
I laugh in his face and swing my other fist at his head, and miss. It’d be comical if I wasn’t half crazed at the moment. “No! Stop lying to me! I can’t take it anymore!” I swing at him again.
Marty effortlessly dodges my fist and I growl in response. My nails are biting into my palms as I plan another swing at his jaw. Marty grits his teeth and hisses at me, “I’m trying to help you. If I’d known you’d go batshit crazy, I would have had Mel here. She’s going to kick my ass when she finds out that I broke you.”
I laugh like I’m ready to mentally crack and take another swing at him. He grabs my fist with his other hand, and pulls me into a bear hug. I can’t move. Tremors burst from inside of me and shake my body, “I can’t do this. I can’t…” I’m sobbing.
He holds me tight and continues to explain. “I know, sweetie. I know how upset you’ve been. I hired you to give you a break and keep you away from assholes like Henry Thomas. After what happened last weekend, I wanted to buy you some time, so that’s what I did. I bought you tonight. I was trying to help.”
Tilting my head up, I stare at him. Marty releases me and steps away with his back to me and runs his hands through his hair. He’s strong. The muscles are tense beneath his skin, like he’s going to lose it. He steps forward without warning, and slams his knuckles into the wall. The plaster cracks like frozen ice and his fist disappears behind the wallboard.
Marty pulls his fist from the wall and doesn’t look at me. He sits down on the side of the bed with his back to me and lowers his head into his hands.
There’s a long silence and I don’t know what to do. I smooth my dress and take a seat by the little desk in the corner and try to calm down. I don’t know what to do. “Miss Black—” I start to say something but can’t finish. It feels like someone pulled my head off and screwed it back on, but failed to connect my mind. It’s still wandering through a field of haze laced with complete and total despair. I hold my face in my hands and say, “What was I supposed to think, Marty? After everything that happened, what was I—”
There’s a knock on the door that cuts me off. We both glance at it. Marty pads over and looks through the peephole before opening it. A young guy, wearing a hotel uniform, is standing there with a tray. “Your dinner, sir, and the movie you requested.”
Marty nods and points to the desk where I’m sitting. The guy smiles at me and places the tray down. There are two silver domes covering hot food that smells like heaven, along with a movie—my favorite movie—The Last Unicorn.
A lump hardens in my throat as I stare at the DVD. My eyes burn, but I don’t blink. I can’t. I was so wrong, so horribly wrong. Marty didn’t pick up a phone and order this stuff after I got here. He planned it before I came. Everything slams into me and it’s like I’m getting pelted with bricks that won’t stop. By the time Marty signs for the bill and sends the guy away, tears are streaking down my cheeks and my hands are trembling.
I try not to look up, but I have to. When our gazes lock, the only words that want to come from my lips are, “I’m sorry.”