"Ah!"
Air filled her lungs again. Her eyes worked hard to filter out the white brightness until the blurriness faded into the ceiling she always woke up to. Her entire body, from the neck down, felt heavy and sluggish.
"How long have I been out?" She winced at the scratchiness in her throat.
"Just a day."
Her heartbeat stumbled out of her chest as she twisted her head to the side. Brandon sat in front of the window, the trickle of light bathing his slumped figure in the chair. With his elbow perched on the armrest and his cheek resting against his palm while his free hand kept flipping something over and over again. It seemed to be a…key?
Cherry wet her lips. The sting in her throat was distinct. The attention of Brandon's indolent eyes settled on her working throat. Clearing her throat for what felt like the umpteenth time, Brandon rose from his seat, never meeting her eye as he prepared to leave the room.
"... Lou." Her voice broke off around its edges, but it was enough to reach Brandon's ears as he halted mid-step with his hand already resting on the door handle. The rapid change from his unbothered demeanor to a flicker of eager apprehension in his widened gaze sent a wave of angry unease through Cherry's stomach. The long strides he made towards her could not have been quicker. He was about to reach for her, but thought differently and let his hands fall to his sides. The way his calloused fingers twitched made it clear he longed to touch her.
"You, you remember?"
That familiar stutter caused the corners of her eyes to burn red. She bit her chapped bottom lip and twisted away from him.
"Can you look at me?"
"No."
"Please," he begged.
"I said no!" Her head snapped back to look at him. She rose on her elbow, her upper body swaying and begging her to lie down again. The rise in her voice turned to huffs and puffs. She couldn't regulate her breathing. "You have no right..." she took a moment to catch her breath. Distress arched Brandon's eyebrows. He took a step forward, but was halted by Cherry raising her hand. "To ask me anything."
She couldn't compute the myriad of feelings crashing over her body like unrelenting waves. In the end, only one question left her quivering lips: "Why?"
Why did you lie to me all these years?
Schooling his emotions, he tested the waters with his fingers, reaching for her in the hope of feeling the supple warmth of her cheek, only for her to move her head away, leaving him with a sense of cool rejection. The discontent rolling of her cooled his heart to a dangerous degree.
His fingers curled back into fists as he rigidly asked, "Would you forgive me if I told you?"
She scoffed, "What do you think?"
No retaliation to her sarcasm. No anger, no physical harm. His body deflated and his chin dipped down forlornly. The answer was obvious. For a moment she thought he felt guilty until a twisted smile grew on his face, and the silence spoke for him.
The small hairs on her back stood straight.
"Well," he reached for her neck. She scampered back only for her back to hit the headboard. Those icy nails grazed her skin, and she shut her eyes, bracing for the suffocation that never happened. Instead, the echoing clinks of metal filled the air. Trembling, she slowly opened her eyes, and a wave of dread washed over her as they landed on the object in Brandon's hand.
Her hand reached for her neck. A rush of tingles ran down her body at the touch of tufts of fur tickling her skin.
"We have a lifetime to work on that."
There was a long pause. "You chained me?" she finally said.
"They are nice, right? I made sure to get the softest material, and it's even your favorite color."
Her eye twitched. It's not like I can see the damn color right now, can I?
"Are you for real right now?" Her voice was low and measured as her fingers dug into the pillow with every shallow breath she took.
"Let me go."
"You'll leave me if I do that, so no."
Irritation crackled through her. "No shit! You are a murderer! You killed my child and kidnapped my parents!"
He mulled for a moment. "Will you not leave me if I quit being a murderer?"
"Brandon, please… do you hear yourself?" Cherry pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to soothe the impending headache. "Just let my parents and me go, and we will forget all about this."
Brandon shrugs nonchalantly. "You already forgot about me once and I didn't enjoy that."
"Brandon, that—"
"Lou." He replaced her fingers with his thumb, drawing soothing circles between her eyebrows while using his other free hand to hold hers.
"What?"
"Lou. That's who I am. I'm your Lou." He lowered down on one knee, rubbing the side of his cheek against her palm, spraying kisses on it. "I'm your lover, husband, knight. Your Lou."
For a moment the image of that young boy overlapped the man kneeling in front of her, and her baleful glare crumbled to a weak frown. "I want a divorce, and you should hand yourself over to the police."
"The fuck?" He blurted out after a long pause. "You think I went through all of this trouble just to lose you again?" He bristled, the hold on her hand tightened, pulling a groan out of her.
His eyes broadened, and he instantly loosened his hold, pulling away from her as he slowly stood up. He took a deep breath and mellowed his anger. "I will get you some water." He gritted out before lumbering out of the room. As the snick of the door echoed, Cherry collapsed onto the bed and used the heels of her palms to hold back the tears from spilling.
She silently wished for a concussion, a way to erase her memories once more.
"This sucks so much."
.....
"Please don't ruin that. That's my favorite chair." The dramatic sigh and the opulent clacking of polished shoes against the wooden floor was enough for Cherry to know who was behind her, but she didn't bother to put the chair down even though her arms were quaking under its weight.
No matter what—today was the day she's escaping!
"I'm sure it's not your first time trying to break the window." He added.
Cherry thought back to when she ran away from Brandon and tried to break the window to the garden. She worried her lips in thought and wrapped her frustration in a laboured sigh. "It's not, but I'll go crazy if I don't do something." Feeling the strain in her arms, she lowered them and put the chair down.
"Didn't you already lose your marbles when you lost your memories?" His worry-free chuckles grated her ears. Rolling her eyes, she turned her body to the side, giving the older man a side glare. "Don't you need to command Brandon to butcher someone or something?"
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Funny that you mention your darling." He took a step towards her, and she took multiple steps back. The corner of his lips curled as he raised his ashy eyebrow. "You're treating me as if I'm a monster."
You're not? "Just state your business from right there."
He caught the way her fingers flexed around the chair and held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I won't move. I need you to get over your tantrum and start loving that love-sick dimwit again."
Her expression was a silent, forceful "Are you kidding me?".
"His work efficiency had dropped to an astonishingly low point." Dean clarified.
"That has nothing to do with me."
"It has every single maddening bit to do with you, and frankly, I'm getting tired of it, so fix it."
"How am I supposed to fix," she gestured to her confined state. "this? Things between us will never be the same."
"I don't care whether you'll take acting classes and fake it till you make it or really love him again if you don't do something about it," He leaned down to her from where he stood, leveling his head so he stared at her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll burn this theater down with both of you and your parents in it."
"The fuck?"
A familiar voice that annoyingly eased the nerves in her body interrupted, and before she knew an arm lay across her shoulders protectively, flushing her side against Brandon's chest. She almost turned limp in his hold, but caught herself and schooled her expression. She placed her palm at the center of his chest and pushed with all her might, groaning under strained breath, "Let me…go!"
"What are you doing here? Didn't you already pick up your new load?"
New load. A sentence that forced Cherry's excessive struggle to come to a halt. He killed someone again. Unknowingly her hand slid off his chest and drooped to her side as she chewed her inner cheek.
"I'm trying to give you some motivation to work harder."
Brandon tipped his head back in exasperation, huffing out air that swayed his bangs before dropping his gaze to meet Dean and opted to mirror the old man's smile. "Piss off."
"Oh~?" Dean sang, pleasantly suprised. "So you've completely dropped the gentleman act, huh? Good. I never liked it."
"Don't make me repeat myself." Brandon took a boisterous step, the tips of their noses now within inches of each other, but neither showed any form of discomfort. "Get. Lost."
Dean's smile stretched, and he spoke in an unhurried voice, "Let it be the last time I have to motivate you." And he left the room.
Now it's just the two of us, great. Cherry exasperated inwardly.
Brandon's gaze drifted down her legs. "One day out of your cast, and you're trying to run away again."
"How much have you heard?" She questioned.
"Enough." He leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head, her eyes meeting his with a tired, disapproving look.
He knew she must be disgusted with him—heck; she hated him, but he tried to explain everything. Instead, she kept icing him out. He had expected this moment after she remembered everything, but foreknowledge did nothing to quell the intense emotions that made his eyes sting and his stomach clench.
"You know," Cherry winced as his fingers digged in the flesh of her waist while his other hand pinched her chin, forcing her to look at him and gritted when she stared at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I don't agree a lot with what the old man says, but this time I do. It may be wise for you to heed his warnings."
"And why is that?"
"Your parents are in the hidden basement." The way her eyes snapped to him was instantaneous, burning with a spark that had been absent for the past 4 days; sending an avalanche of feelings to crash his body.
"You're gorgeous." He blurted out, desiring to always be blessed by her beauty.
Brushing his hand off her chin alongside his compliment, she asked, "They are here? Are they safe?"
His focus wandered over her face and stopped at the prominent bags under her eyes, causing the skin between his brows to pucker and his lips to worry as he nodded absentmindedly. "For now."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
A gentle smile spread across his lips as he found the furrow of her brows endearing.
"That you should behave and be my wife again." He clasped her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger to examine her closer, turning her head this way and that.
"Will you stop that and be serious for once!?" With a force that felt plush against his chest, she pushed him, and he let her, allowing a small gap between them to exist. "You're asking me to stay with you, love you, and ignore the fact that you're a murderer? You're so heartless that you even killed your own child?"
The smile disappeared from his face.
"Not this again," he huffed in mild-annoyance.
"What…?"
"You keep saying that I killed our child, but why would I do that when having a child was something you wanted? I would do anything to make you happy if it meant keeping you with me, even if it meant having a child, because your happiness is my happiness. But do you think if I had kept the child and given up on you that the child would have been happy?"
"That—!"
"No, they won't. You know why?"
She gave him a trembling headshake, but the way her lips were pressed showed she was already aware of the answer.
"Because I would have lost the focus of my happiness, my desire, my motivation, my being of living. Everything that kept me alive—sane, would have been buried with you, leaving behind a husk of what's supposed to be a man and you think I would give a shit about a child? If anything, I did our child a favor."
His response floored Cherry. Her tongue numb, but her mind in a frenzy, bewildered at the jolt that went through her heart. Why did hearing that make me happy? Am I going crazy?
"But—but how can you expect me to love someone who still smells like blood?"
His jaw muscles jumped. "Why not? April is married to a serial killer. Compared to him who kills people for fun, I, who kill people under assignments, am pretty normal, don't you think so?"
"Huh? What?" Her brain stuttered—no, it got completely wiped clean, because what did he just say?
"If your friend could do it, why can't you?"
Still, her tongue felt heavy, unable to push any coherent words out.
"Now that we are talking about April." He pulled out her phone from his pocket, handing it over to her with ease, making her even more confused. Seeing her eyes dart between the phone and him, Brandon jutted his chin at the phone, "She's has been blowing the phone up for days now. Do something about it and don't try to be smart by calling the police. I have my men on standby to intercept the call if that happens."
Before Cherry could answer, her phone buzzed with April's cheerful ringtone, a sound that now made her breath catch. With a hesitant hand, she lifted the phone to her ear.
She missed her friend. Dearly so. She imagined multiple times since she got locked here how she would tell April all the crazy things she went through. How April should vet the man she's interested in if she ever dates again after successfully getting a divorce.
"Cher—!"
But how can she when her own friend is not right in her head either?
"Is mr.Moore a murderer?" A gasp followed by a heart-shattering silence tensed the surrounding air.
"…Cher." The defeated sigh wrapped around Cherry's name spoke volumes, sending an imploring whisper: I can explain it.
"Okay," Cherry responded in kind: You can't. She quickly ended the call, then stretched the phone out towards Brandon, letting it fall into his waiting hand. She didn't want to hear more. "Can you leave now?"
The arms enclosing her waist conveyed his silent protest.
"Please…" Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.
With one powerful movement he lifted Cherry off the floor, holding her up by the knees so he could look up and admire her. A secret thrill ran through him as she effortlessly wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as if she belonged in his arms. Her eyes were vacant, but the tears still dribbled down and landed like rain on his face.
He pecked the droplets away as he walked them to the bed. He stepped over the remnants of the decent room that Cherry's rampage had once destroyed. Then, he lowered her onto the bed. Finally, he knelt on the ground between her thighs and wrapped his muscular arms around her waist.
"Breath princess."
"I'm tired."
"I know," he crooned as his rough palm cradled the side of her. "Everything will be okay once you accept me again."
Will it? She wondered.
Her own thoughts still waded the murky waters, while her body wanted nothing more, but to lean into his touch. No matter how tough she was acting now, she couldn't dismiss the melancholy hackling her breath.
She missed Brandon.
As soon as she grasped for his sleeve, the blotch of red stained on it flickered in her vision, and she stilled. Tears welled up once again as she breathed, "Why?" Shutting her eyes at the flashes of dead bodies hazing her mind. "Why did you have to kill?"
"I had no choice. You know that."
"There's always a choice."
"I didn't. You don't know since you left after the accident, but my father almost killed me."
Her mouth clamped shut, and at the same time, silence nestled in the corners of the room, listening to the indistinct murmurs of memories.
"It was one of his drunken moments, but that day I knew he would kill me, so I ran. I went to the police, but they wanted to send me back, so I ran again. I knocked on orphanages, but unlike the name of the town Happy Hill, no one was really happy. They refused me at the door, saying they couldn't afford another mouth. I met Dean when I wandered the streets. Knowing him, he must have been bored. He snatched me by the scruff with his gloved hand, and the rest is history. I clung to him because I knew instinctively that he could give me what I wanted." He stroked her cheek with the crook of his forefinger. "And I got what I want, right?"
"This is not right, Brandon."
"But you are right—right for me. We are right for each other. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"I know who hired the private detective—oh, he's dead by the way. Didn't really put up a fight."
She squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of guilt washing over her, knowing someone had died because of her. A sigh escaped her lips as she whispered, "Who?"
"It was that doctor."
Her eyebrow arched incredulously. "Doctor?"
"You know, Doctor Hearts."
"Ah…" Recognition dawned in her eyes, and Brandon had to fight back a ridiculous grin at that sight. Victory hummed beneath his skin, knowing the doctor didn't exist in her heart.
"Anyway, he's also here, tied up, and a little roughed up. I was thinking about how I should deal with him together with your parents, but I may be lenient depending on someone's actions."
He moved his face closer to hers. His eyes flickered to her lips before meeting the defeated gaze. "So what do you think, princess? You want no more blood on your hands, right?" Only her shuddering breath ghosted against his lips before he smirked and pressed them against hers.
At the touch, they were cold as snow, but he didn't care. He will warm them up in no time. With a soft gasp, her pliable lips opened, and his tongue plunged in, stroking the delicate pink flesh, a tender sensation that caused him to groan in delight as his hand cupped the back of her neck, erasing any space between them.
He swallowed her moans, relishing them. Time ceased to have meaning; only her faint whimpers and the feel of her tears touching his face brought him out of his reverie.
He held her down with his primal look and lapped away her tear-soaked face, then gave her swollen lips a playful nip. "A wise choice."