The Promise

They’re silent for a few hours, Nicholas’s mind spinning with thoughts of Eloise. Wondering if she’s hurt, wondering where he is, wondering what she ever did to deserve this life.

“I didn’t think we’d be back here with Eloise again,” Edson says quietly, taking a bite of his power bar. “She’ll forgive you, Nicholas.” He turns to look at him. “Once you explain that photo to Marc, she’ll understand and forgive you.”

Nicholas shakes his head, knowing how bad that picture looks, but it has to be done.

“She loves you,” Edson shrugs, “so don’t worry.”

Nicholas rests his head back on his seat, staring up at the sky full of stars.

“You’re a lucky man,” Edson says, settling into the seat. “People dream of having a woman look at them like she does at you. Maybe it’s why this is happening?”

Nicholas shoots him a confused look.

“Maybe someone is testing your fate?”

“She’s been through enough.” Nicholas rubs the aching spot between his eyes. “But if someone is up there calling the shots, I’d love to be alone with them for a few minutes.” His grip on his gun tightens. “No one deserves what Eloise’s been through.”

“I’m not saying she deserves any of it; I’m just saying we weren’t meant to find a mate. We gave up that right when we signed on for Guardians. I think you hit a snag in our path of life, and this needs to happen for you guys to be able to work it out.”

Nicholas shakes his head, annoyed that Edson could be right.

“Perhaps, but it’s still fucked up.”

“Very.” His best friend squeezes his arm before he shuts his eyes. He hopes Pat isn’t one for sleeping in because come seven a.m., they are raiding the motherfucking house.

Eloise moved her head from side to side, tuning in and out of someone speaking.

“Do you think it was wise to mention Bert to her?” Pat’s voice seems far away.

A ticking sound makes her stomach turn. She knew he was here; his damn boots gave him away.

“Are you questioning my motives?” His voice makes her blood freeze in place. “She needs to know that her life is over, that she can be reborn again with me. I never gave his name, never said how close he’s getting to—”

She can’t hold on. She feels herself slipping back into a place that makes her feel no pain, only love.

Three hours later, she was in agony. She cried out as the American slapped her and punched her in the stomach for the second time.

Her mouth is getting her in trouble again. She knew it would be better for her if she kept quiet, but instead, she made him angry and hit rather than being forced to sleep with this man.

“You will bend to my ways, Eloise,” he barks down at her as his stupid cobra boots tap along the wooden floor.

For the last hour, he has questioned her, trying to gain information on where Pat went. He had heard from one of the girls that Pat had spent some time in her room when she arrived.

She wasn’t about to out the one person who may be helping her.

“Did you sleep with him, Eloise? I should have known you were a little slut. You probably spread your legs for the whole damn Army.”

She smirked at him, thinking he might not touch her if he suspected she slept with his muscle.

“You think this is funny?”

“No.” She slowly shakes her head, feeling lightheaded with pain. “I think it’s hysterical. You wanted me so badly that you hunted me down for so long, and five minutes with Pat, and he’s got me against the wall doing the one thing you’ve been fantasizing about all that time?”

Well, that was it. She found The American’s weak spot. His eyes widen as red-hot anger flickers across them. She saw him lose all sense of control.

Fuck!

She curled up in a ball, her knees protecting her stomach and her arms covering her head, and held on. This beating takes her to the edge, and she knows it could be the end.

She forced her thoughts to turn inward, ignoring the punishment her body was taking.

She was twelve, sitting on her bed and clipping pictures from a magazine. Her mother comes into her room holding two cups of lemonade.

She’s so weak she can barely hold their weight, so Eloise hopped up, took them from her, and cleared a spot on her bed for her to sit.

She leaned over to see what she was doing. She returned to gluing the pictures on the Bristol board, telling her it was her art project for family studies.

They have to show what their perfect apartment would look like.

“I love the colors.” She smiles, pointing at the red couch and matching red appliances.

Eloise tries not to stare at her for too long. She gets uncomfortable with how much weight she has lost. She has commented on her reflection and how old she looks.

She has taken to wearing silk scarves around her neck in pretty colors. Eloise thinks she still looks beautiful, even when she’s just wearing her headscarf and not her wig.

Her mother could walk around bald and still be the most gorgeous woman in the room.

“When I was eighteen, my best friend Betsy and I got a place together. It wasn’t much, but we had been saving for two summers, and we went out and bought everything new. I remember I bought a red Mixmaster.

“It cost me a lot, but it was the absolute favorite I got that day. I loved that mixer. I had so much fun experimenting with recipes. It’s how I started making those chocolate chip cookies you love so much.”

“Oh, so that’s the story of how your famous cookies came about. Well, in that case…” Eloise reached behind her, held up a red Mixmaster picture, and glued it on her counter. “Now my apartment is perfect.”

She reaches out and runs her soft hand along Eloise’s cheek. “Promise me someday, when you get your place, you’ll live for both of us.”

Eloise wants to burst into tears. She hates when her mom talks like this, but it’s the truth; it’s their reality, and her mother, whom she loves more than anything, is dying a slow, painful death. And every day, she is here trying to be strong for her and her father, a father who is rarely home anymore.

“All I ask from you, Eloise, is to live it to the fullest and be happy. Do it for me, if not for yourself.”

“I promise,” she whispered, fighting the tears.