Part 22 (1/2)

I s.h.i.+ver a little, but try not to show my disgust. ”You like how I smell?”

He nods. ”Like honeysuckle.”

I smell like honeysuckle? I remember the sweet-smelling soaps Betsy used to slide to me in the shower at the hospital. I smile a little at Hatch. ”Do you want to smell my hair?” My brain screams, What are you doing?

Hatch nods and shuffles through the dry gra.s.s. As he closes the gap between us, his ma.s.sive shadow blocks out the sun. Now he's just a giant dark blob with a halo of blinding light at his crown. Warning bells go off. It's hard to draw breath. I tense and close both eyes. I feel the s.h.i.+ft of his weight, hear the crunch of the weed stalks under his feet, smell his body odor and chicken grease. My scalp tingles as his nose brushes against my crown. His hand reaches in and tugs my hair to his nose. Each follicle tingles, sending goose b.u.mps over my arms. I tell myself not to bolt. That it'll be over soon.

He pulls back, a childish grin slathered on his big face. He's looking at me like that piece of meat again. I draw back and cross my arms over my chest. ”I have to go now.” As I walk away, my legs are jelly. When I'm through the empty house, I run.

Ethan's sitting on the floor of our room when I fly in. He looks up at me as I grip the wall and pant.

He sits up. ”What's going on?”

”I don't know.” I run a hand over my face. A plan is spinning out in my brain. But would it work?

I lean toward my brother, my hands still trembling. ”I need you to be ready. As soon as I can I figure a few things out, we're gone.”

He knits his eyebrows together. ”What do you mean? Back to the hospital?”

I look out the door toward were I left Hatch. ”Just be ready.”

Late that afternoon the Sheriff returns in a foul mood. Something about the prices of fuel. Sheriff and Clay strap on guns and take off again. The Sheriff tells Hatch they won't be back before morning. Clay stares at me out the pa.s.senger window of the van as they drive away, but I can't meet his eyes. Not when I'm leaving him behind.

I find Hatch sitting on a log by the dying fire. In the twilight he looks like a boulder, giant and immovable.

I stop when I'm five feet away. I squeeze my hands together and start before I can think too much about what I'm gonna do. ”Hatch, I need a favor.”

Hatch's eyes slip from my hair to my cotton t-s.h.i.+rt. He sucks in a loud breath.

”Clay and the Sheriff are going to take me back to town. I have to go back to the hospital. I need you to let me and Ethan go.”

Hatch's face darkens in the gathering twilight. He digs slowly at the bug bite above his ear. ”Boss said we go home. Didn't say nothing 'bout letting you go.”

”I know boss didn't say, but I need to go back.”

Hatch shakes his rock-shaped head.

I take a deep breath and smile coyly. I take another step forward. ”You like me, right?”

He nods big and slow.

”If you let me and Ethan go, you can, uh, smell my hair all you want.” I have no intention of honoring this promise.

He leans his giant elbows on his giant knees. The log rocks beneath him. ”Boss'll be mad.”

I walk in front of him and lean down until we're face to face. ”You're bigger than boss. You don't need to listen to him.”

He eyes lock onto the expanse of flesh below my neck.

”Come on, Hatch.” I say with honeyed voice. ”I need you.” I swallow hard and think of Mama.

He's up and grabbing my arms. He hoists me to my feet until my toes sc.r.a.pe the ground. I struggle, but it's no good. He holds me up to eye level and peers in my face.

”You messin' with me?” he growls. ”You messin' with ol' Hatchy?” His fingers dig into the flesh of my arms.

”N-no,” I stammer. The pain pulses where his big fingers cut into me.

He pulls me closer until his face is inches from mine. I can see every hair in his stubbly beard. A jagged line runs from his nose to the top of his lip, what Auntie called a harelip. Something green lurks in the cracks between his teeth.

”Kiss me.”

I shoot him a terrified look. ”What?”

He tightens his grip on my arm. I wince in pain. ”If you mean it, you kiss me.”

Kiss him? Kiss this man ten years older than me with dim eyes, oily skin and chunks of his dinner between his teeth? This cannot be my first kiss. Please no.

I look pleadingly into his eyes. ”Hatch, no.”

His grip tightens on my arms until a cry of pain escapes my lips. I can see in his eyes if I don't give him what he wants, he'll take it.

”If I kiss you, will you let us go?”

He nods once.

Tears wet the corners of my eyes. What've I done? ”Okay.” I nod once and choke back a sob.

The big grin creeps over his face as he enfolds me in his giant arms. When his rough lips meet mine, I can't help myself. I pretend it's Clay.

The kiss is rough and wet. His tongue probes at my lips, but I clamp them shut. The stubble grates on the skin around my mouth. I pull back. ”Okay,” I say. ”Let me go.”

Hatch shakes his big head, still smiling, though his face has lost its innocence.

”Nope. I keep you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three.

The rough twine around my wrists burns, but not as much as knowing I've brought this all on myself.

Ethan sits beside me, bound hands in his lap, chin to his chest. His hair hangs limp over his eyes. It's better that way. I couldn't stand him looking at me right now.

Hatch first bound my hands and feet. Then he sought out Ethan, dragged him out kicking and screaming and tied him up, too. Now, as twilight crouches around the campfire, we watch as Hatch throws more boards onto the blaze. The firelight dances on his face. His eyes look like round black beads in the fleshy dough of his head. He scratches at the bug bite, red and raw above his ear and throws a cabinet door onto the fire. It crackles, throwing coils of black smoke into the air.

My insides smolder and bubble like wood that fuels our fire. I brought this on us, so I need to get us out. I stare into Hatch's blank face. There has to be something I can do.