M Sellars: Love Is The Bond

“Don’t hurt her.”

“We don’t want to.”

All I could do was repeat my three-word appeal.

It seemed as though an entire decade passed before the door of the motel room even moved. And, when it finally did, it was barely perceptible, simply appearing as the sudden jump of a shadow across its whitewashed face. In fact, since it was so quick and wasn’t followed by any other movement, I began to wonder if it was only my eyes playing tricks on me.

I went ahead and blinked. It was something I probably hadn’t done for several minutes. Nothing changed, so I blinked again.

As it turned out, I hadn’t been completely removed from the scene, as McCann wanted. Still, since I was now parked in the back of a squad car, I was about as far from the action as I could get. I’m not sure who was responsible for ordering me placed here, but I suspected that there hadn’t been a single objection to it, not even from Ben.

I continued watching through the window, trying not to exhale against the chilled glass so as to avoid the obscuring fog. It was rapidly becoming a losing battle, and after wiping my sleeve against the frosted surface more than once, I had taken to holding my breath rather than look away.

My stomach was roiling with fear. The nagging trepidation told me that I didn’t want to watch for fear of witnessing something I wouldn’t be able to bear. Still, I was unable to avert my gaze; no matter how hard I tried. In fact, I had even begun telling myself that as long as I was watching, nothing bad could happen.

The police radio in the front of the patrol car burped with a blast of static, followed by voices exchanging meaningless information-well, meaningless to me, at least. All that mattered right now in my world was Felicity and her safety. Everything else was moot.

The jump of the shadow was finally followed by a slow drifting motion as the panel of muted darkness elongated and spread. It continued to become more oblique with each passing second, until it completely consumed the opening.

Detective Ackman, Agent Drew, and Ben were all positioned strategically around the room’s entrance, weapons at the ready. I could somewhat understand Ackman and Drew. They didn’t know Felicity. They couldn’t understand what was really going on and that she posed no threat.

But, the fact that my friend’s hand was also filled with a pistol made me physically ill. Deep inside I wanted to despise him for it. I just hoped that the dark feeling was something I would be able to get over.

I kept staring at the doorway, now fully open. Dim yellow light spilled outward, only to be immediately consumed by the harsh glare of the spotlights directed toward the front of the building.

A new shadow began to move in the framed opening, and I saw Felicity step forward to the threshold. Even at this distance, I could make out a wealth of detail, and I could see that her face was painted with a heavier than usual application of makeup. Considering both that and the harsh shadows, I almost wouldn’t have recognized her, save for her petite build and fiery mane of auburn hair. Still, I knew the person standing there was my wife, and I could see the fear twisting her face as she trembled.

She was clad in all black, not that there was much of it mind you; it was a stark contrast against her ivory skin. Of course, the ensemble was obviously intended to be the trappings of the dominatrix persona who had possessed her, and it certainly succeeded, consisting of no more than a flared miniskirt, cropped mesh top, thigh high stockings, and stiletto heels.

I watched her, unblinking, as the blood began rushing in my ears. My heart was pumping furiously, driving against my ribcage at an ever-quickening pace. Of course, I’m sure the fact that I still hadn’t taken a breath wasn’t helping in the least.

Felicity moved forward slowly then hesitated. My eyes darted about, and though I couldn’t hear him, I could see that Ben’s lips were moving as he instructed her on what to do.

The rapid thud in my chest ramped upward, strove toward a summit, and upon reaching the peak, began to turn back in on itself. Harsh light bloomed in front of me, washing color in and out of the scene as my heartbeat became an off-balance metronome ticking along a wholly different timeline from the rest of the world.

The radio in the front of the vehicle stuttered once again, but this time it became a droning mix of unintelligible noise. The sound slid past my ears in a stream of Doppler distorted gibberish.

Felicity finally moved again, coming forward with fluid lethargy, as my world transformed into a slow motion video clip. She was now standing only a few paces in front of the doorway, and Ben’s mouth began moving again as he held his Beretta pointed at her back. My gaze remained frozen on that single point as my wife’s arms started floating upward through a protracted arc.

I stared hard at the pistol in my friend’s hands then to the weapons held by Ackman and Drew. Bile seared up my throat and I swallowed hard.

My eyes were beginning to burn as they dried, but I forced them to stay open. I simply could not blink until this was over. If I did, I would break the spell. And, if I broke the spell, something bad would happen.

My wife’s arms finally came perpendicular to the rest of her body, then they began folding inward with the same hurtful torpidity. A handful of seconds transformed into what seemed like minutes before her hands landed firmly atop her head, and she began to ooze downward onto her knees. Ben was now in motion, moving in behind her and holstering his sidearm as she knelt. With equal lethargy he brought his hand up and placed it on top of hers. In his other hand I saw the light glint from the shiny metal of the handcuffs as he slapped them against her dainty wrist.

Detective Ackman was already going through the door of the motel room, pistol stiff-armed before him as he skirted behind Ben. Agent Drew was continuing to hold his weapon pointed at my wife as my friend pulled one of her arms down behind her back, then the other, each with painfully unnatural slowness.

A discordant rhythm suddenly began to rattle around me, driving into my skull and threatening to shatter my eardrums. The tableau beyond the window shifted in that instant, making the leap from slow motion to real time, and I watched Ben placing my wife face down on the sidewalk.

Detective Ackman came back out of the door and said something to Agent Drew as they were both holstering their own sidearms. Drew looked toward the emergency vehicles and began gesturing quickly as he beckoned someone.

The crescendo continued unabated, transforming from merely discordant to horrifically painful.

Sharp agony started biting into my shoulder from nowhere, disappearing one moment, only to return the next. My hands were beginning to ache, and I was almost certain that what felt like a blow had just landed against my forehead. I had no clue from where the sudden attack was coming; I only knew that I refused to succumb. Even as the pain continued, the scene before me began fading into obscurity behind a bloom of frosty white.

The deafening noise warbled into nothingness, then returned anew, immediately on the heels of the dying sound.

It was at that moment, I realized that the pain I felt was the product of me slamming my own body against the locked door of the squad car in a futile attempt to reach Felicity.

And, the ghastly wail was none other than my own voice screaming out her name.

Thursday, November 10

8:27 A.M.

FBI Field Office

Saint Louis, Missouri

I thought I heard a noise, but given that it was so quiet in the room and the sound itself had been so soft, I wasn’t really certain. I thought it might simply be my imagination. Since it didn’t seem particularly important, I just ignored it. Instead, I continued staring at the blob of metal bits that made up the magnetic sculpture sitting on the edge of the desk in front of me, absently pondering just exactly what the current shape was meant to be.