Committed Chapter 9

No sound awoke Ariadne later that night.  She was simply awake, as completely and utterly as if she had been lying restless for hours.  However, one glance at the clock on the wall showed her that it was just before six in the morning and she’d been asleep for hours.

            After Paris had found a sleeping bag for himself he’d shown her upstairs to his bedroom.  It was smaller than Ariadne had expected, even considering the size of his house.  There was barely enough room for his bed and dresser.  She thought of her own spacious room and tried not to feel guilty.

            The house was silent except for the sound of wind moving trees in the backyard.  Paris had a rear facing window just above his dresser but the curtains were drawn so Ariadne couldn’t see out.  What she could see were the shadows of the tree branches, cast by a nearby streetlight, flickering back and forth across the small opening.

            She kicked the covers off with her feet and climbed out of the bed.  Her foot hit on a squeaky floorboard as she stepped towards the door and she flinched.  She took a moment to calm herself before she continued.

            She made her way down the spiralling staircase to the living room/kitchen with silent footfalls.  Paris was lying on the couch, motionless, his body barely moving as it drew breath in and out.

            Taking exaggerated care so as not to wake him, Ariadne tip toed over to the kitchen and pulled the fridge door open.  She held it open just far enough to see inside and took stock.  It was only then that she became consciously aware of how hungry she was.

            She pulled out a jug of water and set it on the counter next to the fridge and then turned to the small island in the middle of the kitchen.  A bowl sat in the middle of it with fruits and Ariadne selected an apple from the assorted options.

            She then turned and quietly checked the cupboard for a glass.  She found them in the second cupboard over from the fridge.

            She was half-way through pouring the glass when she realized she was crying.

            Ariadne couldn’t remember when she started crying but she quickly set the jug of water down on the counter, making more noise than she had intended, and hurried to the bathroom.  Once inside she closed the door and locked it, keeping the light off to bathe herself in the darkness.

            She sat down on the sparse floor space and buried her face in her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs to pull herself into a ball.  She realized now she’d been in shock ever since leaving the school and only now were the torrents of unacknowledged emotions finding space to pour out.

            Her ears seemed to be ringing from the recently discharged gunshots.  Loud slaps like the applause of a crowd, or the striking of a hand against her face.  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, highlighting the flesh where she’d been struck.

            She did not know how long she lay like that before the tears finally slowed, when her breathing began to return to normal, and when her tight grip on herself began to slacken.  She let her legs stretch out, feeling cramps from how strongly she’d been pulling them against herself.

            Finally, she rose to her feet and wiped her hands across her face.  She reached for the light-switch and flicked it on.

            “Hello Ariadne,” Janus said, looming up behind her in the darkness.

            Ariadne tried to scream out but he already had a hand clamped over her mouth, forcing the ring onto her finger, spinning her down and down into darkness until-

            She awoke in Paris’ bed with a start, sweat coating her face.  She sat there for a moment, panting.  Finally, she took the pillow out from beneath her head, placed it over her face, and cried into it again.

            Once she was done she climbed out of the bed again, testing that same spot on the floor that had creaked in her dream and found it solid.  Sighing, she stripped the pillowcase from the pillow and tossed it into a small laundry hamper that Paris had managed to squeeze between his dresser and the wall.

            The hunger Ariadne had been feeling in the dream was as real now that she was awake so she slipped out of Paris’ room and headed downstairs.

            Paris still lay where he had been in her dream but she felt her memories of the dream fading, as if there had been something not quite crystal clear about what had been around her.  Of course, this only made sense now that she was awake.

            Nevertheless, she went over and closed the bathroom door before she grabbed a real apple from the fruit bowl on the island counter.

            She sank to the floor, back to the island, and munched on the apple.  She gazed at the couch, knowing Paris was sleeping on the other side of it, and thought about what she was going to do now.

            She had threatened to press charges against Janus before Janus had pulled the gun.  The bullet wound in Paris’ arm was definitive proof that Janus had shot at them that night.  But, like Paris said, it would be their word against his.

            Did he really have the influence to get the case dismissed if she tried to press charges against him?  What would happen if she brought this up with her parents?  Would they believe her?  Based on the way her mother had behaved the previous day she seriously doubted that, but maybe her father would.  Or would he be unwilling to follow through with pressing charges against the son of one of his close business partners.

            One thing was for sure, Ariadne couldn’t pretend that Janus hadn’t done anything.  And how could she feel safe again at school or walking around knowing that Janus was out there and posed such a real and present threat.  If he had wanted to jump her on the walk home from school he could have.  Why hadn’t he?  Why wait until that evening?

            In a way, things were made worse by the fact that Halloween this year was on a Monday night.  She could skip school today in an attempt to avoid Janus, but she didn’t think she could justify that to her parents long enough.  Not to mention it would do nothing to solve her immediate problem.

            The only choice that she seemed to have was to try and follow through on her threat and get Paris to go along with her.  His concerns regarding Janus’ influence were not unfounded but they didn’t have a better choice as things stood.  If she confronted her parents with the bullet wound in Paris arm they couldn’t deny that what she was saying was true, could they?

\           Ariadne could already hear her mother asking her why they hadn’t gone to a hospital if Paris had been shot.  She’d probably figure out some way to blame it all on Paris not having as much money as they did.  She’d call it a drug sale gone wrong and that Janus had been trying to help or something.

            Ariadne hated to think of her mother being that way about it, but she also couldn’t imagine her wanting anything unpleasant coming into their lives.  And what could be more unpleasant than the idea that Janus, son of one of her husbands business partners, and thus indirectly related to the security of her current lifestyle, was dangerous.  No, her mother would do everything in her power to deny it.

            But, Ariadne reminded herself, she was still her mother.  If her child was in danger would she really do nothing?  Maybe if she presented the problem to her mother and father and pointed out the fact that they might not be able to take it all the way to the legal level they might come up with a solution together.  If nothing else, her father would know what to do.

            Satisfied for the moment that the only real option was for her to bring Paris back to her house and confront her parents with the problem, Ariadne pulled her phone out of her pocket to see what time it was.

            She had three texts from her mother.  The first two were demands to know where she was and why she hadn’t come home.  Ariadne felt a little guilty realizing that she had fallen asleep without texting her mother to let her know that she would be staying the night here.

            However, the third text made her heart stop.  It had been sent half an hour ago.

I’ve called the police.  They’re coming to Paris’ house now to get you.

Ariadne instantly felt a sense of panic.  Why had her mother called the police?  That was a little extreme, wasn’t it?  It seemed unusual for her mother to take such an interest in her well-being considering how little interest she usually took in Ariadne’s comings and goings.

            Maybe her mother had heard something.  Maybe someone actually had heard the shots at her school or seen Janus running with a gun and called the police.  It was possible that she was worried that she was hurt or that her and Paris were in danger.

            That was when she noticed the red and blue lights washing into the living room through the front facing window.  She rose to her feet, intending to wake Paris, when he sat bolt upright on the couch.

            He was still shirtless, his back muscles coiled as he planted a hand on the armrest of the couch and hoisted himself to his feet.  He rushed to the nearby window and drew the curtains aside enough to peer out.

            “My mom called the police,” Ariadne said, walking towards him.

            Paris turned, showing no surprise at seeing her up.  “She did?” he asked.

            “Yeah, maybe she heard something about what happened at the field.”

            “Maybe,” Paris nodded, though something about his tone made Ariadne think he wasn’t convinced.

            “We can show them where you got shot and tell them what happened.  They can’t ignore us, right?  They’ll have to follow through with an investigation.”

            “That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Paris nodded.

            “What’s wrong?”
            “I don’t know,” Paris said, turning his attention back outside.  “I have a bad feeling.  They’re getting out of the car now.”

            Ariadne drew the curtain aside a bit herself and peering through the opening with Paris.  She saw the two police officers climbing out of their cruiser.  The driver adjusted his belt and checked a notepad between glances at the houses on either side of the street.  Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for with Paris’ house.

            The other cop went around to the back and opened the door.  A third figure climbed out, hands moving to button a sports jacket.  When he turned to face the house Ariadne’s heart leapt in her chest.

            “That’s Janus,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

            Paris dropped the curtain and turned to her.  She caught his eyes, which were equal parts determination and concern.

            “Hide,” he told her.