Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

was even bigger than its predecessor. Isaac moved fast and caught it like a goalie at a football match. He hugged the rock to his chest and performed the same action. The rock cracked like an egg. Stripe watched in fascination as he wiped the powdered shards from his clothes.

“What are you?” she asked, pressing her body even more up the tree.

“I'm...perfect,” he said softly.

“What do you mean?”

Isaac stepped forward, his shoulders slouching anxiously as he approached her. “It’s better if I showed you.” He held out his hand. “You’ll understand why, I promise.”

After minutes of pleading, they returned to the house. Stripe ordered Isaac to walk in front of her so she could keep an eye on him. She got cleaned up from the mud and grass, borrowing some sweat pants of Isaac’s. To understand why, Isaac explained that they’d need to drive. Stripe voiced her opinion. “Am I going in the trunk or will I be allowed to have a seat?”

Isaac handed her a knife from the kitchen. “I won’t put you in the trunk, Stripe.”

“You chained me to your bed,” she said, glancing at the weapon. “What the hell is this?”

“Yes, I did but that was a precaution, I won’t do it again, I told you. You can use the knife to protect yourself if you think I’ll hurt you.”

Oh-kay, this is completely fucked up. Stripe frowned taking it from him. “But you’re strong. You could wrestle this from me and squeeze me like a bottle of mayonnaise.”

Isaac smirked, then he nodded quizzically. He marched back to the kitchen and began to search through the drawers from top to bottom. After a while, he brought out a pair of handcuffs.

Stripe crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you insane? You’re not using them on me. BDSM isn’t my style.”

Isaac laughed, shaking his head. “They aren't for you. They’re for me.”

“Explain please.”

“When we get to the location, you can cuff me.”

“But you could just pull them apart or squeeze them into powder like you did to those rocks.”

He shrugged. “These are the only ideas I've got sadly. I can’t think of anything else to make you feel less anxious about it. I don't blame you though.”

Stripe snatched the cuffs and pushed them into the sweatpants pocket. The knife was loose in her other hand but not completely. “Okay, let's get a move on.”

Isaac hesitated before handing over her jacket. Stripe checked the pockets immediately; her cell phone, car and house keys were in there. “What kind of kidnapper are you?”

“The nice kind, if there is one.”

“You're putting Thomas Harris to shame.”

They made their way out of the house. Stripe saw her car parked on the gravel road. You could just run and leave this bullshit behind.

Isaac moved in front of her, blocking her view. “Stripe, are you sure you want to do this?” He stepped backwards. “You don't have to. If you want to leave, I won't stop you...”

This moment reminded her of the scene in The Matrix where Morpheus propositioned Neo. Swallowing a blue pill, leading to a normal mundane safe life or a red pill for an intriguing, dangerous but freeing adventure. Stripe knew if she was ever in that situation, choosing the red pill was a no-brainer. It’s what drove her in the journalistic field, what made her confront Cameron Storms in the first place.

She watched the lush tall trees zip past the window, listening to the soft tones of a piano melody. She swore she still felt the cool steely fingers of the chain around her ankle. Stripe turned her attention to her kidnapper and first love. She feasted on the silence; the music became a distraction from the noise inside her head. Isaac occasionally observed her as he drove; he wasn't talking either but the way his jaw tightened, she knew he was trying to think of something worthwhile to say. Well, you are armed with a knife. She saw the blade sleeping on her knee, she could plunge it into his neck, the car would curb off the road, smashing into a tree. It would hurt, possibly severely injuring her but she would be free.

“Did… you know about The Lumberjack story?” Stripe asked.

“Yeah, Peter used to tell me stories before I went to sleep,” Isaac replied. “The lumberjack came up a few times.”

“So you lied to me? You already knew about it.”

“I had to back then. I told you, I was hiding.”

“Was anything you said as Cameron true?”

“Yes, pretty much. If I swung that way, I would fuck Brian from The Breakfast Club.”

“Cameron never told me she played the guitar or that she’d gotten tattoos. Her arms were always covered up.”

“I didn’t want anyone seeing my past.”

“Why don’t you want to kill me?” she asked, the question floating.

“Because you haven't done anything wrong. Look, if I felt anything like you’re implying then Cameron wouldn't have, I wouldn't have done any of those things with you.”

“You could’ve called me,” Stripe replied, turning back to the window. “Not done this. It’s like I’m stuck in a surreal David Lynch drama.”

“I guess, maybe I didn’t think this through enough.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Before this, when you were interviewing me – I felt you opened up to me, about your life, your background. What made you do that?”

She had to think about it before she formulated a decent answer. “I guess I…liked you. In a perverse fashion, you reminded me of someone, and now I know why. You were shy, cute, kinda weird, you had your serious moments, just like she did. I was in love with Cameron Storms. Thought I was gay in college, tried dating a couple of girls who seemed friendly but none of them matched up to Cam. I realised it was just that one-time thing so I tried the boys out.” She started to laugh. “You were her all along. Cameron was a guy. I mean, she was butch for a girl, you spoke perfectly, you