The Ocean’s City
Chapter 50

As a figure emerged from the bushes, I stumbled and nearly screamed. The frightful sound caught in my throat as I saw the all too large and ferocious silhouette, realizing it was Dalton. I quickly pulled my underwear up, hissing through my teeth to show my disapproval.

“What are you doing away from the camp?” He asked as he gracefully moved closer to me. I instantly caught his scent. It was welcoming, like I could just walk up and wrap my arms around him. The fact that I could show him affection and knew he would eagerly receive it made me feel powerful. Withholding it even a little made a spark in his eyes go hungry; he wanted me open and willing like Dannie had been with Hutson. The thought brought a pang into my heart. I would jump into his arm every second I could if I knew what she knew. I could see that pain, that yearning in his heart, and it made me feel guilty.

“I wanted to pee before bed,” I answered, trying to search his eyes. For what? I had no clue. Perhaps a reason, so I felt I could jump into his arms and blindly follow him in the crazy new reality.

“And where is Fran?” He asked in his typical serious tone, causing my heartbeat to pick up as I worried about Fran.

“She…she…” I tried to replace the right words but wasn’t fast enough. A girlish shrill sang through the night.

“Sssilllvvesstiia!! Are you okay?”

Dalton looked from me to the camp as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “She will be just a moment!” Dalton shouted back.

“Oh, Okay!” she shouted back, her voice sounding intimidated, showing signs she worried she was in trouble.

“As you were saying?” he turned his attention back to me, but I didn’t say anything; I simply bit my lip. His left hand left his pocket and wrapped around my arm. “You do not leave the camp without an escort. Are we clear?”

I followed him as he led me back to the camp.

We passed by Fran, who cowered next to Jones. Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at us. Dalton nodded, causing her to turn red. “Goodnight,” she whispered meekly.

“Where did you go?” I asked silkily, attempting to turn his attention back to me and not to Fran and Jones. Jones looked like he wouldn’t be able to take another beating.

Dalton’s hand lightly squeezed my arm like he was warning me.

“I had to pee,” he mocked as he lifted the flap of our tent and ushered me inside. He was tying the flap shut when I caught sight of his arm. The same holographic symbols glowed red as if they were fresh wounds. The skin agitated, telling tales of an excruciating process.

“I know I haven’t known you for long, but I didn’t realize you needed to carve into your arm just to pee—” I had more ridiculous remarks lined up, waiting to spill from my stupid mouth, but they all cowered away the moment Dalton’s hands caught my shoulders in a deathly grip, his eyes building with rage. I instantly cursed myself, wishing I could replace a way to calm Dalton down.

“I will sew your fucking mouth shut if you do not learn to shut up!”

My mood changed. Deep down, I knew Dalton would keep to his word. Tears welled in my eyes, and I swallowed my embarrassment, but my painful emotions did not cool his temper. He spoke with each word clearly enunciated, “You have known me for long. I am your husband; we are married. One you love and blindly trust.” He stared into my eyes to see if I was registering what he was saying. Past his anger, I could see him pleading with me, but my brain felt too fogged with emotions to even try to see from his chaotic side of reasoning.

Anger pulsed through my veins. Tears flowed from my eyes when I finally gained the nerve to speak. “I may have to do as you say to get Dannie back, but I will never love you.” I tore my arms from his hold and flung myself to the farthest corner to sleep.

The tension in the tent was so thick I couldn’t breathe. I was shocked Dalton heaved as loud as he did. He was working on the strings of the tent. The gravel crunched under his weight, and he stepped out. I was counting the seconds until I was alone. I could feel him staring at me. “I know I’ve done a shit job… but one day, I will prove you wrong.”

He stood there waiting for me to say something or move or react in any way. When he finally noticed I would not change my stature, he left. His footsteps softly crunched in the sand, singing me a lullaby into the dream world. One where my mind went deep into Hutson’s story, trying to crack at the edges to replace the truth, but as I thought more about it, I felt hopeless that it was yet another mind game. I fully dozed off with the helpless thought that this game of twisting another’s mind to sick confusion ran in the family.