The girl with no name, chapter 4.

Staring out of the window, her arms clutched around her, she could still taste him.

It was so beautiful. Sacred almost.

How his breathing went, his hands in her hair.

His breaths becoming moans, then that moment his moaning faltered and he cried out her name.

Sinking to his knees, holding her, weeping. Saying that name over and over again.
That name confused her, but made her feel so good and whole too.

And then everything seemed to go in overdrive.
She hadn't heard the sound of the motor, but she saw the two men jump out of the speedboat. Hands grabbing Eddie and swearing.

"Fucking cunt. I warned you to stay away from her."

And he punched Eddie in the face, punched him in his stomach, pulling him up at his hair and punching his face again.
"You little shit. Saying her name!" While he kicked him in the groin.

She screamed.

"Fedja, no! Leave him!"

But the other man restrained her and took her to the speedboat, trying to prevent her from seeing what was done to Eddie.
And then she felt a sharp sting in her arm and when she looked she saw the needle of the syringe being pulled back and her mind went blank.

Blank.

No.

She remembered what had happened this morning.

"Eddie." She whispered his name.

"EDDIE!" She yelled his name.

She ran out of the room, downstairs, up to the library where her grandfather was sitting.

"Grandpa! I am...I need...." She turned around and ran to the kitchen, opening the door and with a barking Jasper behind her she rushed over the lawn, to the boathouse.

The old man saw them go.

With a resolute gesture he picked up the phone and pressed a key.

"Miles....where did you and your cousin Fedja take the boat this morning?
I saw you leave....no....I see the way  Robson is with my granddaughter....Fedja should not....no....listen, Miles...when you see your cousin I want you to send him over....I want no harm done to my guest...you hear? No harm! I invited Edward here for...yes...that'll be all."

The old man hung up and opened the terrace doors. With a determined look on his face he descended the two brick stairs to cross the lawn the way his granddaughter had gone.

Rain saw that the speedboat was already docked at one of the jetties, but no sign of the sailboat. In the boat she saw a white piece of cloth. She jumped in the boat and looked at it. It was Edward's t-shirt, ripped...with blood on it.

"No..." Rain muttered, clutching the cloth to her face.

Quickly she climbed out of the vessel and almost stumbling she ran to the boathouse.

The door to the boathouse wasn't locked when Rain tried to open it.
"Edward?"

The familiar scent of varnish slammed into her face like the moment of truth.

Edward had been productive. Canvases against the wall, drying. Half finished most of them. Always the same theme it seemed. The subject was a female nude and almost violent splashes of paint - strokes, destructive splatters surrounding her, but she seemed to be protected somehow, like in a cocoon of tenderness and love while the outside violence tried to break through it. Portraits also...always the same girl.
Other materials.
Wood.

Lumps of clay kneaded into her features.

This artist was obviously obsessed somehow.

With a lump in her throat she looked at his art.
A big stone, worked on. The face of the girl already recognizable.
Rain stroked the girl's cold marble cheeks.
"Hálwen." She whispered.

Knowing the girl's name.

"Eddie!" she cried out again, knowing there would be no answer.

She sank to her knees, cursing her weakness.