Lost Highway (9 page)

Odessa

Q
uill sleeps for what might be
the first time since he arrived in the Lost Highway. I peek into the back room
to find him collapsed on the bed where I left him. He doesn’t stir when I open
the door.

I wish I could join him. My
fingers ache to touch his hot skin. My lips want to brush against his temple
the way I did the night before when I told him everything would be all right.

Rather than disturb him, I walk
down to the basement to find cleaning supplies. The voices greet me with
promises of death and misery. I ignore them and return upstairs. Outside the
cabin, a thick fog blocks my view of the woods.

Quill once told me how I
shouldn’t stare into the fog unless I wanted to see what haunted me. Based on
his wording, he was quoting Tom. I wondered if Quill ever chanced the warning
and looked into the fog. I sensed nothing haunted him before last night. Now
I’m unsure what remains of the man I first met.

Feeling brazen, I tempt fate
and stare into the fog. Nothing looks back at me at first. Then I notice
movement in the gray mass. Athena’s face appears, missing flesh and revealing
bone.

“Odessa,” she whispers, calling
out to me. “Why, Odessa?”

“Because I was young and
stupid,” I tell her. “I would take it back, but I can’t. There’s no way to
return to that moment and save you.”

“You killed me.”

“I have to let you go.”

“You let me go then too. You
let me die.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. The real
you would know how sorry I feel, and she would forgive me. I know you’re not
her. You’re the evil in the Lost Highway, but I don’t hate you for showing her
to me. I don’t hate me for what happened anymore. You’ll have to torment me
with something else next time.”

Wiping away my tears, I close
the curtains and walk to the CD player where I turn on Charlie Daniels. Once I
fill a bucket with water and carry it to my old room, I open the door and
adjust to the stench.

I decide to start cleaning in
the bathroom where I wash away the blood and goo. When the bucket’s water turns
foul, I replace it and continue working. The CD finishes twice before I feel
Quill behind me.

“What are you doing?” he asks
in a voice rough from sleep.

“I’m cleaning.”

“Why?”

“So it’ll be clean.”

“Does that mean you plan to
sleep in here again?”

“No. I like the couch better.”

“Then why clean?” he asks, now
angry.

I look at him and find his
expression stuck somewhere between enraged and exhausted.

“This isn’t Tom’s cabin
anymore. I want to wash away what reminds me of him.”

Quill says nothing for a long
time before grabbing my arm and yanking me to my feet. “If you want to clean up
after old Tom, you better get started in his trophy room.”

Dragging me out of the room and
down the hall, he unlatches the door to where Tom kept his trophies. I think I
know what to expect, but the sight of such horror still shocks me. I reach for
Quill, but he shoves me inside and locks the door.

“These poor people,” I whisper,
looking over the shelves of body parts floating in jars.

I don’t beg Quill to open the
door. I refuse to listen to the voices asking me to join them. They show me a
nearby blade and ask me to open my throat. They promise me everything, but I
give them nothing in return.

Quill opens the door and stares
at me. Although his face is concealed in the shadows, his mood is evident. He
wants me to break. If I’m insane, he can save me and be the one in control.
Otherwise, he’s only a man lost in a lifetime’s worth of strange emotions.

“I’ll burn them once the fog
lifts,” I say, ducking under his arm pressed against the doorjamb. “Thank you
for showing me.”

Grunting at my comment, Quill
follows me to the living room where I change CDs and play Otis Redding. He
leans against the wall and watches me. I glance at him over my shoulder and
smile slightly.

“I hate you,” he hisses.

“You’ll get over it.”

Rolling his eyes, Quill heads
for the front door. He sees the fog and realizes he has no escape. I watch him
stare at the door, and then he looks at me. I think he might strike out at me.
Returning to the bedroom, I wash out the bucket and decide I’ve done enough for
today.

I step into the shower, wanting
to scrub away the horrors I’ve seen and touched. My mind is on Quill, and I
wonder what he’ll do next. He’s usually impossible to read, but now he doesn’t
even understand himself.

Stepping out of the shower, I
find him at the bathroom door. His gaze washes over my naked body, and he
exhales coarsely.

“It never ends,” he says,
walking away.

I follow him with only a towel
wrapped around me. He opens the basement door until I touch his hand.

“We could chain you to the bed
in your room. It’s quieter in there. No lying voices.”

“I don’t want you in my room.”

I cross my arms and frown up at
him. Quill is behaving like a baby. While I feel pity for him never actually
having a childhood, I also lack the patience to deal with his tantrum.

“I won’t go down there.”

Quill leans in and growls, “I
can make you.”

“But you won’t. You want me to
be in charge. You need me to chain you up and make you orgasm. So are we going
to your room or are you handling this problem yourself?”

Frowning, Quill looks around,
and I realize he’s never even masturbated before. He has no idea how to make
himself feel better. The naughty part of my brain hopes once he settles down, I
can teach him a lot of fun things.

Quill sighs full of defeat. The
poor guy will have to fuck me in a bed. I want to laugh at his expression but
restrain the urge so he won’t lose his already hair-trigger temper. He
retrieves the chains from downstairs and brings them to his room.

A large, four-post bed rests in
the corner of the room. I glance around at the décor and assume the owners of
the real cabin chose the flowered wallpaper.

Nearby, Quill strips down. With
every piece of clothing he removes, his expression becomes increasingly sullen,
and the beast more intense. I lock him into the chains before my towel comes
off.

Again he takes in the sight of
me and seems more depressed than aroused. His body tells a different story. I
stroke him quickly, licking at the head of his thick erection until he erupts
into my mouth. He growls with the orgasm and hisses with pleasure when I suck
at his softening flesh.

I crave to feel him inside me.
The way he stretches and owns me is addictive. I’ve never enjoyed sex before.
In the past, I orgasmed because my body felt things my heart never could. Now I
have Quill.

Once he’s hard in my mouth, I
pop him loose. I reach behind him and hold onto the bedpost. He watches me
warily as I lower my breast to his lips.

“Suck, Quill.”

His mouth grudgingly opens for
my nipple. He doesn’t care about my pleasure, which isn’t a surprise since he
doesn’t care about his pleasure either. Quill endures sex while I ache for it.

Like a baby, he calms from the
sucking motion. I have to wiggle free to force him to let go of the first
nipple so I can switch. He frowns at me, irritated I took away his toy. Biting
my nipple, he wants to punish me.

Tugging his head back, I kiss
his forehead. “Be nice or I’ll leave you chained up in here.”

Growling, Quill yanks at the
chains. I watch him struggle and hear him cursing my name under his breath.

“Do you want to suck?” I ask,
tempting his lips with my hard nipple.

Relenting, he sucks the flesh
into his mouth and relaxes. I run my fingers through his thick, brown hair.
Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of his rough sucking. Between my legs, his
cock searches for my pussy. I feel the tip leaking against my thigh, but I’m
not ready. Quill is at my mercy, and I want to play a little more.

Tugging my nipple out of his
mouth, I stand, so his mouth feels the heat of my pussy. I open the flesh
between my legs and touch the swollen nub.

“This is my clit. If you lick
it, I will cry out your name like you moan mine when I lick your dick. Will you
help me cry out?”

Quill wants to glare at me, but
his gaze latches onto the sight of my wet, pink flesh, and he can’t look away.
He licks his lips, hungry for what I offer. I take a chance of offering my
vulnerable clit to a still unsatisfied beast.

His tongue slides between my
fleshy folds, drinking my juices. I hear him groan and strain for more. I brace
myself against the wall, keeping my balance while he devours me long after I
cry out his name.

When I take away his newest
toy, he growls, “Bitch.”

“Patience,” I whisper, lowering
myself onto his cock.

My body opens for him. His hips
move instinctively, shoving upward to fill me completely. I cup his face and
suck my juices from his lips. Between my legs, I clamp his erection tightly,
making every thrust unbearable for him. Quill nips my bottom lip and won’t let
go until he shudders from the first wave of his orgasm.

Quill groans and growls and
mumbles my name. He calls me the devil while shoving himself deeper and seeking
more pleasure. I watch him orgasm and enjoy how he smiles when the orgasm hits
its peak.

Once he’s caught his breath, I
lift my hips and find him with my mouth. Quill isn’t done. Not with one or two
or ten orgasms. His body craves more until he can’t move any longer. Every time
his cock softens, I stroke and tease it back into action. He asks for my pussy,
wanting to taste me. I offer him whatever he desires. The look on his face when
he’s relaxed is worth all of his sullen behavior.

I don’t know how long we’re
together. The CD plays dozens of times without us pausing. Our bodies’
movements become leisurely. Gently rolling my hips, I wrap my arms around his
neck. We stare at each other, feeling both connected and a million miles apart.
Quill accepts his pleasure now, asking for what he wants. He even hates me less
for giving him what he needs.

Carnal desire makes better sense
to him now, but affection and love remain mysteries. I know as soon as his body
is exhausted, he’ll want away from me.

So while Quill grudgingly
offers his body to me, I don’t know if I’ll ever have a shot at owning his
heart like he now owns mine.

Odessa

L
ater that night, scratching
draws me to the window. I search for the cause, but a curtain of darkness
prevents me from seeing anything past the porch. Glancing back at Quill, I
wonder if he hears the noise too. He stares at the wall, lost in his thoughts.

I return my gaze to the night.
The scratching might be the wolves or whatever creepy crawler climbed into my
room. With Quill in no mood for fighting, I feel it’s my duty to remain on
guard. A smile crosses my face when I imagine the idea of me battling the
horrors prowling the night.

As if to prove my point, a
creature’s eyes shine in the darkness. I step back as the woman leaps onto the
porch and growls at me. Her face is a mask of white and ugly with broken
angles. She’s less human than any of the Death Dealers I’ve seen in this place.

Quill appears next to me and
rips the curtain closed. His anger nearly tears the rod free before the woman
disappears behind the flowered fabric.

“Stop antagonizing her,” he demands.

“Who is she?”

“How would I know?”

“Will she break the window?” I
ask, reaching for a nearby machete.

Quill grabs the weapon. “She
won’t come inside.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” he yells,
startling me a foot off of the ground. “I don’t know what the rules are here! I
don’t know why we’re here or if we can leave! I don’t know why she can walk in
the darkness while we can’t! I don’t know, Odessa! I don’t have the answers!
I’m trapped here just like you and no one ever gave me an operating manual for
this place!”

Quill strikes a fearsome figure
standing over me with the machete in his hand. His raging eyes are nearly black
while his entire body shakes with fear. Trapped in his head, he sees no escape
from the weight of so many new emotions.

I don’t know if I should run
for cover or hug him. With nowhere to hide in this place, I wrap my arms around
his waist and wait for whatever response his furious mind provides.

“The confusion you feel is what
everyone feels, Quill. Once the newness wears off, you’ll handle the feelings
better. I promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing.”

I look up to find him scowling
at me. He’s considering whether his life would improve if he put the machete
through me.

“You are not lost,” I whisper.
“You know who you are. This place amplifies our feelings, but you can find
peace as I have.”

“Your peace was stolen from
me.”

“No, I have peace because you
gave it to me. I’m not strong enough to take anything from you.”

“I want it back then,” he
hisses.

“Isn’t there anything you like
about feeling this way?” I ask, becoming very aware of the machete in his hand.

Quill shakes his head, but his
eyes reveal uncertainty. Pleasure overwhelms him, driving him mad and tearing
away his control. It’s still pleasure, though.

“I can love you, Quill,” I
softly say, tightening my hold on him. “I haven’t loved anyone or anything
since Athena died. I can love now, and I want to love you even when you act
like a robot or when you hold a machete in your hand and feel malice in your
heart.”

“I could kill you so easily.”

“Once you kill me, I’ll be gone
forever. Are you ready to make a decision you must live with for so long?”

Quill closes his eyes and
exhales softly. “I wish I hadn’t saved you.”

“I know, but you did. I can
help you.”

“How?”

“When you’re in the storm, I
can be your anchor like you’re mine. When the voices drive me crazy, or the
storm makes me think I’d rather die than listen to another minute of thunder, I
have you to bring me back. I can do that for you.”

“Wouldn’t it be best to die
tonight and end our time in this prison?”

“What if we only end up in
another prison? Besides, you didn’t give up when you were raised to feel
nothing. When Chance killed everyone at the estate, you didn’t give up either.
Why would you do so now?”

“I knew who I was then.”

“You’re still you. Look at how
your solution to every problem is to kill it, and now you want to kill me. Even
if you do, the feelings you’ve stirred up won’t go away.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m the catalyst for these
feelings, but it could have as easily been Mary or another woman.”

Quill’s scowl darkens, and he
pushes me away. “Now I know you’re lying. This couldn’t happen with anyone
else. It had to be you, and you know that.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Standing in the kitchen, he
sets the machete on the counter and exhales hard. “You’re the nightmare destroying
me.”

I walk to the green chair and
sit down. “Destroying each other could be what the Lost Highway has in mind for
us. I finally forgive myself and love someone, only for that someone to destroy
me. You feel for the first time, only to destroy me and end up miserable. We
could be each other’s destruction.”

I consider the peace I’ve known
since the night Quill lost his virginity. How I can now remember Athena without
wanting to punish myself. Whatever this place intended, I’ve changed for the
better.

Quill hasn’t destroyed me and
neither has the Lost Highway.

“Your life before now wasn’t
much to enjoy, Quill. You got up every day and cleared your traps. You hunted
bad people, who hunted you. Then you came back here and waited to do it again
the next day. How was that any better than how you feel now? Yes, you’re
overwhelmed, but you’ve also enjoyed this new life.”

Quill stares at me from the
kitchen. He hates me, but he’s also considering my words. This man craves
strength. Wallowing in misery isn’t his way. He would never spend a lifetime punishing
himself the way I did.

If my words offer Quill freedom
from his unhappiness, he’ll accept them. If they don’t, he’ll follow another
more permanent and bloody path.