Layla
: Chapter 20

I open my camera app, set my phone on the dresser, and point it at Willow.

She’s sitting calmly on the bed, her legs crossed, her back against the headboard. Her hands are tied to the bedpost near her head.

I hit record, and then I go sit on the bed next to her.

I squeeze her hand reassuringly because she looks nervous. Then I look into the camera of my phone. “Layla, I know this is confusing. I know it’s scary. But I need you to listen to me.” I blow out a breath. “There’s someone in this house. Someone we can’t see. It’s bigger than me and you.

She’s stronger than me and you. And until I help her, we can’t leave.”

I look at Willow. “What’s your name?”

“Willow,” she says.

“Are you a danger to Layla?”

“No.”

“Am I a danger to Layla?”

Willow shakes her head. “No.”

“Am I holding Layla against her will?”

“No,” she says. “But I am. Just for another day.” Willow looks at the camera. “Then it’ll be over, Layla. Please don’t be upset with Leeds for this.

It’s out of his control.”

“What will happen if Layla tries to escape?” I ask her.

She’s still looking at the camera when she says, “You can’t escape, Layla. It’s better to just wait this out as calmly as you can.”

With that, I walk over to my phone and stop the recording.

“She’s going to be scared when she sees that,” Willow says.

“She’s already scared.” I turn out the light, but the room isn’t pitch black because the sun is probably about to rise. We’ve been up all night. I close the bedroom curtain. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll deal with her when she wakes up.”

Willow nods and then leans her head against her arms, which are dangling from the rope. “I’ll try,” she whispers.

She fell asleep about half an hour ago. I moved the security camera from the Grand Room into our bedroom. That way I can keep an eye on Layla if I need to go downstairs.

I’ve been sitting in a chair next to the bed since Willow fell asleep, but it’s been a challenge just keeping my eyes open. I want to be by Layla’s side when she wakes up. She’s going to be scared. Terrified.

My eyelids are falling shut when my phone pings with a notification. I jerk in the chair and look over at Layla. It didn’t wake her.

I have a new notification from the forum. I frantically move my fingers over the screen to unlock my phone, and then I click on the notification and read his message.

I’m on my way.

That’s all his message says. He didn’t even ask questions. I’m relieved, but I also have no idea what to expect. Who to expect. When to expect him.

I close my eyes and press my phone against my forehead, releasing a rush of air from what seem like concrete lungs. I feel the weight of all that’s happened since I came into her life. Every ounce of it, as if every bad decision I’ve made were compressed into the shape of a cinder block, and that cinder block is pressing down on my chest.

Layla gasps before she screams.

The weight on my chest doubles when I see the panic set in.

Her eyes are flittering around the room wildly. Then she screams again when she sees she’s tied to the bed. She rubs her wrists together in an attempt to slide out of the rope, but the rope doesn’t budge.

I press a calming hand to the side of her head to try and get her to look at me, but she’s in fight-or-flight mode now. She’s digging her heels into the mattress, trying to get away from me, but she has nowhere to go.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say quietly. “Don’t be scared.”

She’s taking in huge gasps of air like there isn’t enough of it in the room. She’s crying again. Every tear that falls down her cheek feels like a knife jamming into my heart.

I may not have the same feelings for her that I used to have, but I still love her. And despite what it might seem like right now, I don’t want any harm to come to her.

There’s such a morbid irony to this moment. Sable caused a lot of grief and pain to Layla’s life. And now, in order to help Sable, Layla is suffering yet again.

It isn’t worth it. No part of me should want or even care to help Sable, but to me, I’m not helping Sable. I’m helping Willow.

None of it makes sense, but it’s like I’m not entirely in control of my choices. I can’t be, or I wouldn’t be making such a shitty one right now.

I crawl onto the bed with Layla and I hold her, because no matter how scared she is right now, I know there’s still a part of her that needs to be comforted. Or maybe it’s just me who needs to comfort her. Either way, I wrap my arms around her, and I hold her through her hysterics. I hold her until the screams and pleas and cries begin to exhaust her, and she’s finally still long enough for me to speak to her without her interrupting me.

“I need to show you something. After I show it to you, you’ll understand why you’re tied to the bed.”

She doesn’t even look at me. She’s still sobbing, but it’s a desperate cry, as if I’ve lost my mind and there’s nothing she can do about it. I open the video on my phone and put it in front of her. She jerks her eyes away in defiance.

I hit play on the video, and she doesn’t look down at the screen. I make sure the volume is all the way up so she can hear my words through her tears. She’s staring up at the ceiling, and she continues to do so until she hears herself speak.

When she hears her own voice utter the name Willow, her eyes fall to my screen. She witnesses a memory of herself she can’t remember, and she watches in silent horror.

And then she screams. It’s a scream like nothing I’ve ever heard.

The sound of it rips my heart in half.