leaning against the gate crying. He hurried to her, using the tips of his fingers to stroke her hair where it fell through bars of the gate.
Claire lifted her head, her hair falling back from her face, and his anger surged, making him easily seen for just one brief moment. She reached her hand toward him, and he took it, resting his face against her palm. “Who did this?” he asked, his heart breaking at the sight of her.
“I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry I haven’t been here in a while,” she said around sniffles still lingering from her crying.
“Who?” he asked, looking at the bruises on her cheekbones, the cut on her lip.
She couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t hear him, but she could still feel the warmth of his touch on her hand.
“I wish I could just be in there with you,” she whispered, laying her head against the gate again.
“No,” he answered. “But you need to be away from whoever did this.”
“I know you’re there, even though I can’t hear you. Do you even understand me?” she said, looking for the place his image was just moments before. “I wish I could hear you. I wish we could talk.” She wiped the tears from her bruised face. “So, how about like old days? I’ll talk and you listen?” she offered a small, sad smile.
She paused, looking down at her hands, now being wrung nervously at waist level on her side of the gate. “I’m afraid of Preston. When he gets angry, he hits me. Calls me names. But I can’t leave him. He said if I do, he’ll hunt me down. I’m not even enrolled in classes this semester. He said I don’t need classes. I just need to stay home and take care of him.”
She lifted a hand to wipe away a tear and just barely saw Samuel standing right on the other side of the gate, gesturing wildly. His face was distorted as though he was shouting at something behind her. And just as she turned to see what he was so upset about, a hand came down, slapping her across the face, reopening the split in her lip.
“I told you to keep your ass at home. And where do I find you? Communing with the fucking dead — again! Like a fucking freak!” Preston shouted in her face.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to go for a walk,” she offered, clearly terrified.
“Can’t even trust you to do what the hell you’re supposed to. That’s why you keep your ass at home where I know exactly what you’re doing, when you’re doing it and who you’re doing it with. Now get your ass back there. NOW!” he screamed at her, grabbing her by the shoulder and swinging her around toward the path. He shoved her hard in the direction they’d come, causing her to lose her balance.
“God damn it!” he said exasperatedly, snatching her up off the ground. “Can’t you even walk on your own two feet? Get up off the ground, woman. People are gonna wonder what the hell I see in you. Stop embarrassing me!” he hissed at her, shoving her forward again.
Samuel was losing all control, pacing back and forth, banging on the crypt itself, throwing anything he could get his hands on inside the small space he was relegated to. Screaming for the man to keep his hands off Claire, threatening him with untold tortures. Finally, in frustration, he grabbed hold of the gate and shook it so hard it fell off its hinges, crashing to the ground on the outside of the perimeter he was imprisoned within.
He stood back, looking at the opening. He raised his eyes to the last place he’d been able to see Claire and the man abusing her before they’d left his sight. His chest heaved. “So be it,” he whispered, before stepping over the threshold separating his crypt from the rest of the cemetery. He looked down at himself and found that he was no different than he was when sequestered on the other side — there, but not. If his soul was now lost, so be it. He’d gladly give it for Claire’s safety.
He set foot on the path Claire had been forced down, on a mission to save her from the man who was supposed to protect her, value her — not hurt her.
~~~~~
“Can’t you walk any faster?” Preston snapped.
“I’m trying. I’m hurrying,” Claire said, arms wrapped around herself as she walked