copyright©2025
Caught in the Trap
I had spent months mostly alone, rebuilding myself piece by piece—mind, body, heart. Each step forward felt precarious, like walking barefoot over shattered glass: cautious, aware of every sharp edge, every potential cut.
One evening, craving a fragment of normalcy, I stepped into Barracks, our local pub, the one that had always been a faint refuge. The air was thick with chatter and laughter, mingling with the sharp tang of spilled beer. At the entrance, I almost collided with John, Barry’s brother, flanked by two friends.
Teri, is that you? His eyes widened, surprise and something unreadable flickering in their depths.
“Yeah, it’s me. You usually see me in uniform, but… I’m fairly normal otherwise,” I said, laughing softly, tentative.
Nights like this—when I could exist without the armor of routine, without the shield of work, without the careful construction of invisibility—were rare. My hair fell loose over my shoulders, skin bare under dim light. Exposed, yes, but liberated.
“You look amazing,” John said, a glint in his gaze I couldn’t read, dangerous and protective at once. He gestured toward their table. “Come, have a beer with us.”
Introductions followed: Tom, another friend whose name I did not catch. Around us, the pub buzzed, live music throbbing, bartenders moving like clockwork, chaos held in rhythm. I told John about the restraining order, my voice steadier than I felt.
Then I saw him—Jack—out of the corner of my eye. My chest constricted, pulse spiking. He stood at the bar, predator-like, savoring the hunt. I turned away, heart hammering. John noticed.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, voice gentle, steadying me with the brush of his shoulder.
“He’s at the bar… watching me,” I whispered, voice tight.
John nodded, silent but alert, his presence a shield. I needed distance, a moment’s escape.
“Excuse me, I need the restroom,” I said, slipping through the swinging doors into the narrow corridor.
A chill ran down my spine. The door swung open—and there he was. Jack, blocking the path, calm, unnervingly composed.
Teri, we need to talk. Please, just give me a chance.
I didn’t flinch. Leave me alone! Fear and fury sharpened my voice into steel.
Before I could react further, John appeared like a storm unleashed, ripping Jack down the hallway toward the smoking room. Relief surged through me, tangled with a flicker of something darker. His protective rage was undeniable—but had it gone too far?
Jack disappeared from my life again that night. Months passed in uneasy quiet. John and I built a cautious friendship, careful dances over coffee, measured words, wary trust. He urged me to report the incident. In the shadows of his prison work, he knew the minds capable of violence. I followed his guidance, gave a statement, took steps to hold Jack accountable.
Witnesses were gathered—Lynn, another woman who had helped me escape. Jack’s lawyer delayed, citing medical excuses. Frustration gnawed, and eventually, I dismissed the case, deciding to close the chapter and leave Ireland behind. My life no longer belonged there.
A month before departure, I felt compelled to confront the past, to tie loose ends. I found Jack in a quiet pub at the edge of town, alone in the garden. Warm air carried the faint scent of flowers; distant conversations drifted across the space. He sat calm—too calm—eyes unreadable, fixed.
“I came to say goodbye. I’m leaving soon. I thought we should bury the hatchet. I also withdrew the original complaint—I want peace,” I said, voice steady despite tension coiling in my stomach.
Jack’s smile curved, sly, dark. “You don’t know why I missed the court, do you?”
“The lawyer said you were hospitalized… something about a bruised neck,” I replied, pulse steadying.
His eyes flickered with shadow. “If only it had been just a bruise.” He pulled out his phone, images that made my fingers tighten around my cup—his head trapped in a metal contraption, screws protruding, hospital gown stained with antiseptic.
“What… what is this?” I whispered, cold creeping into my bones.
“That’s your dear friend John,” Jack said, voice deadly calm. “He broke my neck.”
Shock slammed into me. “How… how could he?”
“You remember the day he threw me across Barracks?” Jack’s gaze pierced me. “He knew exactly what he was doing. I woke up unable to move. Tom had to call an ambulance. They had to fix my neck to my skull. He broke it with precision.”
A storm of emotion—anger, fear, disbelief, an odd thrill of forbidden curiosity—flooded me. The friend I trusted, who claimed to protect me, harbored a darkness I had never suspected. I had been a pawn in a game far more intricate than I had realized, manipulated beyond comprehension.
“This… isn’t right,” I said, voice trembling yet firm, steel threading through fear. “Something has to be done.”
Jack’s eyes glimmered, savoring my resolve. In that moment, a fire ignited within me—fierce, unrelenting. Determination to unearth the truth, confront danger, reclaim my life.
Žádné komentáře:
Okomentovat