Chapter 53

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

ASHLEY

Oh my god. He wasn't holding the knife. He really wasn' t. Why did I say he was?

Spinning to face the door, I bang on it.

"Zain? Zain, I need to talk to you."

I wait. He doesn't appear.

"You were right. You were right! I remembered that night wrong. You didn't have the knife. I tripped over it when I ran from the room. But I swear, I didn't lie on purpose. I'm sorry. I'm sorry , Zain. I was sure you had the knife. But I was wrong. Are you listening to me? I was wrong! "

Can he hear me? Is he even in the house?

I bang on the door again.

" Zain!"

Nothing. Not even the creak of a floorboard.

"Damn it!"

I swing a kick at the wood, and barely miss being hit by the door as it's thrown open. Dark eyes rake over me, then he holds out the clothes he forced me to remove earlier.

"Get dressed. "

"I thought—" I snap my teeth together.

Haven't you learned your lesson, Ashley? Stop goading him!

I take the clothes from him, and carefully pull on the top. It hurts my shoulder, but I manage to do it. The jeans are a little more difficult. The grazes on my knees rub against the denim.

"We're going out. I have an appointment I need to keep, and then my mother has invited us for dinner."

"Your mom?"

His lips flatten into a line. He's clearly unhappy with the idea, so why is he taking me?

When he doesn't clarify further, I try a different route.

"I need clean clothes. Underwear mostly. And I should probably let my mom know I'm still alive."

His attention fastens on me. I refuse to look away, and hold his gaze.

"Even prisoners get fresh underwear, Zain."

A muscle pops in his jaw, and then he nods.

"Fine. But if you try to tell your mother what?—"

"You'll have her arrested. Yes, I know."

I'm honestly not convinced he will anymore. I don't know why, just a gut feeling. Maybe watching the way he broke down during the recording has clouded my opinion of him. Maybe it's the opposite, and seeing how devastated he seemed has helped to show me who he really is beneath the anger.

But, regardless of that, I've caused damage to this man. A lot of damage, as unintentional as it was. I understand his anger. And while I can never give him back the years he's lost, I want to try and fix some of the harm I've caused.

It's not going to be easy. But I'm confident I can do it. I just have to break through his anger.

What is it they say about being kidnapped? Talk to them, make them see you as human.

"Where are my shoes?"

"Downstairs." He turns away, and I'm left with the impression that he expects me to follow him.

I don't argue, and stay a step or two behind him as we walk along the hallway and down the stairs. He points to my shoes, placed neatly beside the door, and that's when I notice the broken window.

"That window wasn't broken last night."

"No."

"Did you break it?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"None of your business."

I push my feet into my sneakers, then crouch to lace them up, wincing when my jeans rub against my knees. When I straighten up, it's to catch him staring at me. Our eyes lock, then he turns away.

"Where are we going?"

He ignores me, and opens the door.

"Zain."

He steps outside, then turns. "You have the count of three to come out of the house, or I'm locking you in."

"Could we please talk about the interview you showed me? "

"Three."

I sigh. "Do we have to do this again? Can't you just talk to me?"

"Two."

"For god's sake, Zain! I get it. I fucked up your life. But I was a child . A thirteen year old girl who walked in on a scene that no one that age should ever see . So, maybe instead of focusing your anger on me, you should be thinking about how someone managed to convince me that you were holding the knife, and why !"

My shout echoes around the sheltered driveway.

He moves with a speed that takes my breath away, and I find myself propelled backward into the house. He kicks the door shut behind him, and keeps moving until my back hits the wall. His hands stay on my shoulders, pinning me in place.

"Who else should I focus my anger on, Ashley? Who the fuck was the person on the stand pointing at me and telling the jury that I was a monster?"

His fingers bite into my shoulders and he shakes me.

"You think now you've admitted you lied that I should just let it go? Let you go? Do you think a few deep breaths and focusing on peace and love will make everything better? Maybe I should take up yoga? You think that'll help?"

"It might." I mutter the words.

"You fucking ruined my life with your lies."

"I didn't know I was lying!"

"Bullshit."

"You saw the same video I did, Zain. How do you explain it?"

"I think you changed your story on purpose. "

"Why? Why would I do that?" I plant one hand against his chest and shove. "Why the hell would I tell the police you murdered my brother if I didn't believe it?"

He doesn't move, so I shove him again, using both hands.

"For someone who claims to have spent years planning this out, you really haven't thought it through, have you?"

"What is there to think through?"

"Are you really that dense? Or have you been so focused on me, that you ignored everything else?"

"There is nothing else!"

"Of course there is." And the little thing that's been niggling at the back of my mind since I watched both of the interviews surges forward. "You said no one knew Louisa was pregnant."

"And?"

"And? And?" Annoyance strips away any shred of fear I have left of the man standing in front of me. "If no one knew, then why did Detective Holson ask you who the father of her baby was?"

The color drains from Zain's face, and he rocks back as though I've struck him.