Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 218

Sophie’s POV

The forest is beautiful. I hate that I notice.

Sunlight filters through the canopy. Birds call overhead. The air smells like pine and earth. It would be peaceful if I weren't here against my will.

I keep my distance from Bellamy as we walk, five feet minimum. When the trail narrows, I slow down or speed up. When we come to a fallen log crossing a small ravine, I ignore his outstretched hand and jump across on my own.

"Sophie, let me help."

"I'm fine."

I am fine. I don't need his help. Don't want it.

He tries conversation a few times: points out a bird's nest, comments on the weather, asks if I'm warm enough in the jacket he brought.

I don't respond to any of it. Just keep walking, eyes forward, jaw tight.

If he notices the cold shoulder, and of course he does, he doesn't call me on it. Just falls silent, hiking beside me with Noah running circles around us both.

Noah, at least, is having the time of his life.

"Miss Sophie! Look!" He holds up a pinecone bigger than his hand. "It's huge!"

"Wow," I say, and I mean it. The enthusiasm in my voice is real. "That's the biggest pinecone I've ever seen!"

"Can I keep it?"

"Of course you can. That's a treasure."

He beams at me, clutching the pinecone like it's made of gold, and races ahead to find more.

I'm aware of Bellamy watching me, feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I don't acknowledge it. Children shouldn't be held accountable for their parents' actions.

Noah is five years old—sweet, curious, innocent. He didn't ask for any of this. Didn't ask for his mother to die or his father to become a kidnapper or to be dragged on this "vacation" in the woods.

It's not his fault, and I won't punish him for Bellamy's choices.

Even if part of me—the angry, spiteful part—wants to tell Noah exactly what his father really is. Wants to say, "Your daddy took me from my wedding. Your daddy locked me in a cabin. Your daddy is keeping me here against my will."

But I can't. Every time the words form in my mind, something stops them from reaching my mouth. Some instinct that says involving a child in this nightmare would make me just as bad as Bellamy.

And I hate myself for it. Hate that I'm being considerate, being kind, being the bigger person when all I want to do is scream.

"Miss Sophie!" Noah's back, slightly out of breath. "Do you know how to play hide and seek?"

"I do."

"Want to play? You and me can hide and Daddy has to find us!"

I glance at Bellamy. He's watching us with something soft in his expression—something that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. Fondness, maybe. Or hope.

"Sure," I tell Noah, anything to get away from that look. Anything to put distance between me and Bellamy. "Let's play."

Noah squeals with excitement and grabs my hand, pulling me off the trail. "Daddy has to count to thirty! And no peeking!"

Bellamy's mouth quirks into a small smile. "Thirty seconds, got it. No peeking."

He turns around, covers his eyes with his hands, and starts counting. "One... two... three..."

Noah tugs me deeper into the trees, giggling. We crouch behind a massive boulder, and he puts his finger to his lips. "Shhh. We have to be super quiet."

I nod, matching his serious expression.

We wait. Noah's hand is small and warm in mine. He's practically vibrating with excitement, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Bellamy's voice echoes through the trees.

Noah covers his mouth to stifle his giggles. We peek around the boulder as Bellamy walks past, deliberately looking the wrong direction. He's hamming it up, checking behind trees that are way too small to hide us, making exaggerated confused faces.

Noah finds this hilarious. When Bellamy finally "discovers" us, Noah leaps out with a triumphant shout.

"You found us! But it took you forever!"

"You guys are good hiders," Bellamy says, ruffling Noah's hair.

We play two more rounds. I let Noah pick the hiding spots, I let him hold my hand and whisper strategy. I let myself forget, for just a few minutes, where I am and why.

Then Noah asks the question.

We're sitting on a flat rock catching our breath when he looks up at me with those big blue eyes, so like his father's, and says, "Miss Sophie, when is little Mimi going to come on vacation with us?"

My smile vanishes instantly. Little Mimi, he means Amelia. My daughter. My baby who I haven't seen in three days, who's probably crying for me, who doesn't understand where Mama went.

Is that what Bellamy told his son? That we're on vacation? Is that what Bellamy calls this—kidnapping someone, holding them against their will—a vacation?

The memories hit like a physical blow. Amelia's laugh. Her tiny hands reaching for me. The way she smells after her bath. The sound she makes when she's sleepy, that little sigh before she falls asleep in my arms.

My heart clenches so hard I can't breathe. Tears blur my vision before I can stop them.

"Miss Sophie?" Noah's voice goes small, frightened. "Did I... did I say something wrong? Are you okay?"

I try to answer—open my mouth to tell him I'm fine, it's not his fault, everything's okay. But the words won't come, can't come. A sob builds in my throat and I press the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle it.

But it's too late. The tears are falling now, hot and fast, and I can't make them stop.

"I'm sorry," Noah whispers, his own eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean to make you sad. I'm sorry."

"Noah." Bellamy's voice, closer than it should be. He must have heard. Must have been nearby watching us play. "It's okay, buddy. You didn't do anything wrong."

Footsteps approach. I feel Bellamy's presence before I see him—that awareness of him that I hate having.

He reaches down, fingers gentle on my elbow. "Sophie, come on. Let's get you…"

I yank my elbow from his hand so hard I nearly lose my balance. "Don't touch me!"

"Sophie…"

"Don't!" I scramble to my feet, stepping back. Away from him, away from his concern and his gentle voice and his assumption that he has any right to comfort me. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Sophie, I know you’re upset, but Noah…"

"Upset?" The word comes out as a shrill laugh. "I'm upset? My daughter is at home wondering where her mother is and you told your son we're on vacation! You kidnapped me, Bellamy! You took me from my life and you're calling it a vacation?"

"Sophie, please, just calm down."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" My voice is rising, getting louder, angrier. I can't help it. Can't contain the rage that's been building for days. "You have no idea what you've done! No idea what…"

"I know you miss Amelia."

"Don't you say her name!" I'm screaming now, actually screaming, and some distant part of me knows Noah is watching in horror, knows I should stop, but I can't. "You don't get to say her name! You don't get to pretend you understand! You're keeping me here like a…"

I take another step back, my vision blurred with tears and rage.

Bellamy's eyes suddenly go wide. "Careful!"

But I don't understand. Don't process the warning fast enough to react. I just see Bellamy's hand already reaching toward me, see him lunging forward with panic written across his face.

And by that time, I'm already falling backwards, my foot slipping into the abyss.