Authors: Brad Stevens
Chapter 15
When she arrived home, the first thing Mara noticed was that her apartment had changed. Somebody appeared to have subtly rearranged everything. Yet, as far as she could see, all her belongings were exactly where she'd left them. She walked from room to room, trying to work out what had happened. Eventually, she realised the change was in her. The apartment felt strange because the last time she'd seen it, she had been a different person. In that sense, Tyner was correct. He had changed her. He'd introduced her to a chaos world in which she had no control over her body or what was done to it. But in the end she'd managed, in a way she still could not completely understand, to defeat him. And now she was determined to regain control of her life, to keep doing the things she'd done before, things that made her happy and fulfilled. Perhaps, if she went through the motions long enough, she would fall into a familiar rhythm, and eventually forget what she'd endured.
She could not face turning on her computer. She knew her inbox would be full of messages from friends desperate for news. They deserved an answer. But there would be time for that later. She removed her jacket and, as if in trance, hung it on a hook by the front door, kicking off her shoes as she did do. Then she unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She started undoing her blouse, but quickly became frustrated and decided to rip it open, sending buttons flying in every direction. She threw the garment aside, and pulled off her tights, then her pants and bra. She was now standing naked in the hall. Noticing the mail that had accumulated under her letterbox, she bent down and opened some of the envelopes and packages. Their contents seemed strange to her. Who had subscribed to this magazine, ordered this book, used the electricity this bill informed her she must pay for? Where had that woman gone? She went into the bathroom and examined herself in a full length mirror. The marks on her legs and stomach were already beginning to fade, but her back was still covered in welts, and the bruises on her buttocks showed no sign of clearing up. She felt a dull throbbing pain all over. She found a bottle of
Amica cream in the cabinet over the sink. It helped a little, but also made the bruises look worse. Knowing she'd need to be examined by a doctor, she went into her office, called the Soho Medical Centre, and booked an appointment. Her brief conversation with the receptionist struck her as amusing in its banality, and she only just managed to stop herself giggling as the woman said, “We'll see you on Monday,” in a cheerful voice which surely belonged to a world that had no connection with or knowledge of the one inhabited by Tyner. She wondered if the receptionist knew she'd been speaking to a naked woman. That struck her as even more amusing, and she let out a laugh which quickly turned into a scream.
She ran a bath, hot as she could stand it. Leaving the bathroom door open so she could hear
Yuke arrive, she immersed herself in the water and laid there for half an hour, sobbing quietly. When the doorbell rang, she climbed out and put on a robe which, for a moment, made her think of the one she'd worn in the Hunters' apartment. Dismissing this image with a shake of her head, she walked down the hall and opened the front door. Yuke was standing there, a concerned look on her face and a pizza box in her hand. She embraced Mara, set the pizza down on the living room table, and led her into the bedroom. A memory of Tyner leading her into the playroom clawed at the edges of her consciousness, but Mara refused to indulge it.
Yuke
didn't say a word as she pulled Mara onto the bed. She knew there was no point asking Mara how she was: the answer to that question became obvious as Yuke removed Mara's robe and saw the marks that covered her. After taking off her uniform, Yuke climbed into bed and began gently caressing Mara, avoiding the more obviously inflamed areas of her body.
They made love for an hour, then lay side by side in a state of exhaustion, covered with sweat. The combination of the hot bath and the passionate sex had finally made Mara feel clean, as if the experiences of the past week were being washed away.
Yuke sat up and kissed Mara on the lips, whispering, “I'll always be here for you. Just like this.” It was the first thing she'd said since entering the apartment.
After several minutes of comfortable silence, Mara smiled weakly and asked,
“Am I imagining things or did I see a pizza arrive with you?”
Yuke
took a pair of jeans and a shirt from the wardrobe while Mara put her robe back on and went into the kitchen to warm the takeaway meal. The sight of pizza turning in the microwave, the machine's hum, the yellow glow it cast over the otherwise dark kitchen, the smell of food being heated, all these things struck Mara as reassuring signs of a return to safety. The Hunt was behind her, while a lengthy process of physical and psychological healing lay ahead. But for now, she felt curiously weightless, as if she had no obligations or concerns beyond eating with her lover. Whatever had happened before was irrelevant, whatever would happen after meaningless. She existed purely in the moment.
The two women were soon sitting on the living room sofa, leaning against each other and sharing junk food. Mara recalled eating pizza while sitting next to Tyner, but managed to
push away the memory with surprising ease. That was the past. She watched Yuke nibbling at a crust, and felt a wave of admiration and love for her. The wounds she could not have helped seeing would have given Yuke a general idea of what had occurred, but she'd maintained exactly the combination of affectionate silence and normality Mara needed right now.
The fact that
Yuke's arrival with the usual Friday night pizza was intended to be perceived as a gesture - an indication that although things were far from normal at the moment, they soon would be - made it all the more touching and effective. But at some point, Yuke would need to know about the Hunt. Even the reality of Mara's ordeal could not be worse than the vague notions - terrifying because they had no clearly defined boundaries - that must currently be filling Yuke's head. And Mara needed to talk about certain things, Julie in particular.
Caressing
Yuke's face, Mara said, “I'm going to tell you everything.”
Yuke
looked down, anxious not to meet Mara's gaze, and whispered, “I already know some of it. You were caught on Monday evening. He did something to your nipples. I could feel it. Not so strongly at that distance, but...” Both of them knew that their connection was not to be discussed directly, and when Yuke looked into her eyes again, Mara simply nodded. Yuke gripped her hand and said, “Tell me.”
For the next two hours, Mara went through all the significant events of the past week. She tried to describe her torture in the most matter-of-fact way possible, leaving out nothing
, but not dwelling on details. By the time she finished, night had fallen. Yuke stroked Mara's hair and said, “It's over now. You're here with me. I'm going to heal you.”
Just briefly, Mara felt Tyner stroking her hair as he asked,
“Are you ready?”
They spent the rest of the evening in bed. Mara buried her face in
Yuke's hair and cried for an hour. It seemed as if she might never stop, but eventually the tears ran out, and she felt purged. She made love to Yuke well into the early hours of the morning, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, just as they had the night their relationship began.
Chapter 16
Mara slept until almost noon on Saturday. When she awoke, she thought for a moment that she was back in Tyner's apartment, in that terrifying bedroom where she'd awaited her tormentor. Yuke's presence swiftly returned her to reality. Her sleep had been completely dreamless, and she felt refreshed. She suspected Yuke had caught her nightmares. Yet Yuke now appeared to be resting peacefully. Yuke's left arm was wrapped around Mara, her hand on Mara's right breast. Mara caressed the stump where Yuke's little finger had once been. She hardly needed reminding of the brutality to which women's bodies were routinely subjected by the state, but Yuke's disfigurement made her think of the pain they'd shared, and what that sharing implied. Yuke had certainly sensed, and to a degree felt, Mara's agony during the Hunt. She'd known exactly when the torture began, and which part of Mara's body was being abused. Their bond remained inexplicable, but to Mara it now seemed more real than ever, as real as the floors upon which she walked, never fearing they might prove illusory or incapable of sustaining her weight. She gently lifted Yuke's arm, being careful not to wake her, and slid out of the bed. Her uniform was lying on the floor in the hall, where she'd deposited it yesterday. She picked up the various items, and was about to place them in the washing basket when she changed her mind and decided to throw away everything except the shoes. She had a spare uniform, and wanted to get rid of anything associated with the Hunt. Tossing the skirt into the dustbin gave her a sense of satisfaction. She took a fresh pair of jeans and a jumper from the wardrobe: this was the first time she'd worn her own clothes in more than a week, and the cool denim felt good against her legs. Indeed, all her senses seemed strangely heightened, and as she walked down the hall towards the kitchen, she was aware of how comforting the soft carpet felt on her bare feet.
After making two large mugs of fresh coffee - not the instant she usually had for breakfast - and several slices of toast, she placed everything on a tray and carried it into the bedroom.
Yuke was still sleeping. Mara took a piece of toast and held it under Yuke's nose. After a few seconds, Yuke laughed and opened her mouth wide. Mara allowed her to take a bite, then ate the rest of the slice herself.
Yuke
sat up, said, “Good morning,” and began drinking the coffee, glancing nervously at Mara as she did so.
Mara looked her directly in the face and said,
“I'm fine. Really.” She was trying to put on a brave face for Yuke's benefit, but the truth was she did feel surprisingly good. She knew the full impact of what had happened would hit her full force in the near future, but at that moment her head was clear, the dull throbbing in the bruised areas of her body had magically vanished, and she felt ready to tentatively begin reengaging with the world. She decided to start by checking her email. She entered her office and turned on the computer.
As
Yuke looked over her shoulder, gently rubbing the back of her neck, Mara accessed her inbox and found sixty-three new messages. She deleted the obvious junk, and read some of the communiques from friends. They all struck much the same tone, urging her to contact them as soon as possible. Mara was touched by these expressions of concern. She composed a group email telling her friends she was recovering from the Hunt and hoped to see them all soon. This last remark was not merely a pleasantry: she really did want to see her friends soon, to bathe in the sanity they represented.
Mara spent an hour replying to the other emails, some of them business-related queries from her publisher, who had no idea what Mara was going through. Her editor loved
French Kill
, but required a few minor changes. And there was a message from Catherine Darden, who was back in New York, and wanted to let Mara know how much she'd enjoyed meeting her. She also noted that she'd enclosed the photos Mara had asked for. At first, Mara couldn't recall mentioning photos, but as she opened the attachment, her request came back to her. For there onscreen was a picture of a shelf with several Melissa Valance novels arranged in a neat row. A second attachment contained an image of the same shelf seen in a wider context, and a third showed a man standing behind the counter of what was obviously a New York bookshop, holding a copy of
Kill Me Goodnight
in his left hand while making a thumbs up gesture with his right. Mara printed out the pictures, which Yuke immediately pinned to the office wall, and wrote a reply thanking Catherine for her kindness.
Mara wondered if Julie's death had been reported by what laughably passed for Britain's 'news media'. She remembered the receptionist saying, 'Everybody will know about it soon enough.' She accessed the
Daily Male
's website, and was not surprised to find a headline about rising house prices. Subsequent pages contained the usual mixture of celebrity gossip and anti-immigrant rabble-rousing (the fact that there were no longer any immigrants in the country had not stemmed the flow of these manufactured stories in the slightest). But on page eight was a piece entitled “Accidental Death of Hunt Participant.”
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Julie Weisz, 21, died yesterday morning while participating in a Hunt. At the time of her death she was in the custody of Robert Price, 43, who is currently being questioned by the police. David Wainwright, Head of Hunt Administration, insists that Mr. Price is simply assisting the police with their enquiries, and that a preliminary investigation suggests there is no reason to suspect him of wrongdoing. According to Mr. Wainwright, 'We at the Hunt make every effort to ensure rules concerning safety are adhered to, and we are proud of our record. Thousands of women have taken part in the Hunt, and this is the first serious incident that has occurred.' A postmortem on Miss Weisz's body will be carried out later today.
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