by L. B. Carter
Liam led the group through a pathway opening up in the crowd. Dylan and Jonathan made an awkward lopsided stretcher with their arms and stumbled their way up the beach, Polo Girl sliding in beside them.
“First drunk fail of the night! Who here thinks they can do better than him? Bring out the shots!” Reed crowed and the crowd, who’d been cricket-quiet watching the pitiful parade, erupted again into cheers and chants for more alcohol. The party music started up again. He hadn’t noticed when it had stopped. When Sirena screamed? When they returned with JT?
The distraction worked beautifully and Nor turned to Kayna whose brown eyes were red-rimmed, but her face was fierce, unlike Sirena’s woeful expression. In the light of the fire he could see sand coating her minty strands. Water dripped down her bare thighs, thighs JT had been straddling several minutes previously. Nor’s jaw clenched.
He led the girls through the gap still left from JT’s procession without much notice, aware of Reed behind them watching their back while Nor focused on the escape route. It was a slightly awkward moment when they got to the truck and realized it was going to be a tight squeeze.
“I’ll ride in the back,” Reed offered without hesitation and jogged around to the bed of the truck. The situation hadn’t changed the fact that Nor was still DD.
Kayna let Sirena scramble into the cab first as Nor held the passenger door open, then climbed in after her friend. He shut the door and stalked around the back, barely reigning in his frustration. He gave the truck a pat in recognition of Reed’s chivarly as he passed by his brother, who was lounged up against the cab like the dusty interior was a couch.
Reed caught his wrist. Serious eyes stared out of Nor’s brother’s face, full of implications. All he said was, “You know where you’re going?”
Nor looked away as he nodded, knowing Reed would be questioning him later about why he knew Sirena’s address. At the moment, getting her home was the most important thing.
Nor all but vaulted into the cab and cranked the engine before the door was even shut. It sputtered for a heart-stopping moment. A few more tries and it finally turned over. Nor threw his seatbelt on and turned to help Sirena with hers. Kayna already had them both secured on the old three-seater bench. Sirena was still, head tilted down toward her feet. Nor gripped the wheel and lurched into reverse.
“Oy!” The shout was muffled through the back window.
Nor made a conscious effort to slow down and obey road rules. The old truck’s engine still whined as Nor bore down on the pedal, barreling through the dark. The steering wheel creaked under his grip, taking the brunt of his need to go back and kick JT in the balls. It didn’t help him ignore the tears that had started dripping from the curtain of green hair next to him.
Chapter Seven
Rena rubbed her lips together, still staring unseeingly at the sand coating her legs. They tasted like salt. The dark heaviness in her stomach became denser, coalescing all the repugnant emotions in a congealed blob, cutting off her airway and clogging the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, but the lump remained. She just wanted to get home, far from the beach, and curl up in her bed.
Alone.
Rena was still trying to shove out of her mind the thought that was on loop: she was a murderer.
A small, feminine hand stroked her arm once as she failed to stifle a small sniff. She pulled her arm into her stomach.
She really didn’t want anyone touching her, especially now, knowing that she probably almost killed JT the same way she’d killed… her father.
She still didn’t even understand what had happened. Was it manslaughter, since she hadn’t been in control of her actions? It didn’t matter. It was her fault, even if subconscious. Thank everything Nor had stopped it, stopped her.
A slight heave lurched the weighty blob dragging her stomach to her toes as she recalled Nor’s bright eyes blazing into hers. Repeat hero. That sounded like such a chick-flick. Usually in those movies, the guy took the girl for a romantic stroll on the beach, not knocked her attacker – victim, her mind corrected – out while she lay numb, covered in sticky sand, having just almost kissed the villain almost to death.
Rena felt a slightly manic giggle rise to join the bile in the back of her throat and she slapped a hand on top of her mouth, unsure if swallowed saltwater would follow from her churning stomach.
A gentle growl rose from the driver, and shame quickly quashed the hysteria again. This was no fantastical tale. She was a real death kisser. A sort of Dementor. It had been instinctual, auto-pilot, once her brain realized she couldn’t escape being held under, that the only way to avoid drowning was to find another source of air. Just as she had with her dad. How much of JT’s attack had actually been an attempt to flee, a struggle to get away from her?
And she’d put Nor in the same danger.
It had taken her a few moments to realize, understand the truth about her demonic psyche. She might actually have been luring in another victim. Some part of her had known she was dangerous somehow, and tried to warn him to leave, but hadn’t gotten farther than his name. He’d been too close. Opening her mouth was too dangerous a move. Never again, she vowed.
The squeal of tires announced their abrupt stop and cut off Rena’s revelation. A fresh wave of tears crawled up at the sight of the welcoming light spilling through the screen door. Grandpa could take care of her, the way he had at the hospital and the first days he’d brought her to his cabin.
Nor opened the door and his warmth left her side. A moment later his hand appeared in front of her to help her down. It trembled slightly and Rena pursed her lips further. A few more months, she just needed to stay away from this boy and his hero complex—particularly in those moments when he was most vulnerable to her... lapses, which he seemed to always be present for.
She was going to have to come up with more convincing of a rejection than a punch to the face.
◆◆◆
Attempting to ignore the deafening silence that had just settled like a blanket over the room, Rena intently inspected Grandpa’s latest masterpiece, planning on continuing to keep her chin down for eternity.
What just yesterday had been a lighthouse peak jutting out of a gaping hole in the foam, today had been carved into a whole intricate cliff-side seascape, cut deep into the old yellow buoy. There were bits of foam all over the newspaper covering the red wood of the coffee table. Rena felt a kinship with it – also scattered in fragments: some of her forgotten in a past life; some of her abandoned on that inlet where she’d been found; some They siphoned from her in the hospital; and more still gradually dissolving from the beach into the rising tide.
Rena snuck a glance up at the heavy desk in the corner of the room where a few finished pieces lay scattered across its surface: a mountain range with river valley, a pine forest with deer poking between the trunks—that one was her favorite, the details of the branches and the buck’s antlers had taken Grandpa ages—and a waterfall cascading into a lake topped with a lazy fishing boat. All were beautiful and serene. The hobby provided Grandpa a calming outlet, the same way she spent hours learning how to punch people.
Grandpa started tapping the flat side his little whittling knife on his left palm.
“Son?” Grandpa’s friend, Officer Jones prompted again, his gruff voice impatient. “You said you heard her?”
Rena didn’t dare look up at where Nor leaned up against the other side of the fireplace from the officer. Don’t tell them. If anyone knew she’d spoken, They would be back, prodding and demanding. More would be in danger. If she hadn’t been in shock already, she’d have surprised herself silly when she called out to Nor. It had been a pitiful attempt to warn him—he’d just come closer, making her seize up in apprehension.
“Him. I heard him.” Nor’s voice was casual. Rena tried not to sigh too heavily into the couch.
“You heard him?”
“Yes, sir. He… slapped her. And swore at her.”
“What did he say?”
Nor cleared his throat. “He called her a ‘Bitch,’ sir.”
“And what happened when you came upon them?”
There was a short hesitation. “He was… straddling her, bending over her.” Nor’s voice dropped off. That wasn’t all that had happened, though Nor didn’t know that.
Rena reached out and smoothed a finger along the buoy’s surface following the straight line away from the lighthouse. She wished she was privy to such flat seas. Instead, she was caught cycling in the tumult of a maelstrom.
“And what did you do then, son?”
Rena pricked her ears. She didn’t know this part—just that JT was there one minute, and gone the next. She’d been too caught up in her repulsive epiphany.
“Just knocked him off her, sir.”
“Mhm, and how did he come to be unconscious?” The skepticism and accusation was heavy in the officer’s deep tone, as though he were fishing to make Nor at fault. Like he could possibly have a motive, being so new in town. Nor was the hero. Officer Jones must have heard it and decided to back off, because he added in a softer voice, “Just give me honesty, son, and you won’t get in trouble. You were defending the young lady.” A silent right? reverberated in the pause at the end of his sentence.
“Must have hit his head on a rock.” There was a shrug in Nor’s voice, not totally spiteful.
The officer heaved a sigh. “Okay. Well, I’ll be getting a statement from the accused when he’s released from the hospital. You be sure you call me if you think of anything else, hear?” Rena peeked up to see Nor nodding and shaking the portly man’s hand.
Officer Jones gave Rena the dreaded sympathetic smile. She resented that tonight’s events had refreshed that habit in everyone around her; it wasn’t deserved. “You sure you don’t want to just get checked over?”
Rena pictured the hospital and the white coats and blanched, confirming with an adamant head shake.
“Get lots of rest, then. And Jack, I’ll need you to bring her in tomorrow to file an official report.”
Grandpa pushed up from his easy chair, laying the whittling knife down on the table. “Will do, Jim. I appreciate it. I’ll see you out.” Their boots clunked on the wooden floors, the screen door slapping behind their lowered voices.
“We should probably head out too, Kay.” Liam said into the awkward silence, standing up from his perch on the arm of the other chair. “Your mum wanted you home as soon as Sirena was settled safely. Kay?” he verbally nudged when no one moved.
Rena looked up from under her still-damp lashes.
“Right, yes. Coming.” Kayna turned away briefly, quickly returning her mascara-streaked face to fixate on Rena again as if she might wither without the sun. “I just... I cant— I’m so sorry. We should have… but we didn’t. I’m so, so, so sorry. If you need anything. You just—” She hiccuped. “—just call me, okay?”
Rena nodded, and braced herself when her friend clambered out of the soft cushions, still staring with concern. She could not handle any hugs tonight. She appreciated the concern, but... Just, no more touching. She needed to be alone.
Thankfully, Kayna just took Liam’s arm and let him lead her out of the room, the screen slapping behind them, as well.
Rena was very aware that their departure left just her and Nor alone in the room, along with a very heavy atmosphere of uncomfortable tension. She placed her vision back on the seascape.
“Looks like your grandfather’s good with his hands too,” Nor said lightly, and she looked up to catch his smile and nod toward the buoy.
She appreciated the effort—still trying to aid the damsel—but it failed to lift her mood.
“Look.” He got serious. “I know nothing I can say will negate what you experienced. I knew someone before who— I just don’t want you to blame yourself. JT’s twice your size; there was no way you could’ve stopped him.”
Oh, but she had. And size didn’t even weigh in on the outcome when it came to her...to her instinctive, internal evil. JT was very, very high up on her Ship List. Regardless, she would never want to be responsible for killing him. If the epiphany hadn’t shocked her system, if Nor hadn’t knocked him off her...
“You were a victim,” Nor said.
No, she was the aggressor, the life-sucking leech.
“You shouldn’t have experienced that. I should have prevented it, should have paid better attention to you.”
Pay better attention? What the heck? Stalker!
Abruptly Rena was angry, her pity party vanished in a puff of indignation. Okay, Mr. Hero, she didn’t need a freaking babysitter. She was a trained boxer, if he didn’t remember the yellowing bruise on his nose; she could handle things herself, thank you very much—even without her fists, she could evidently take care of herself very effectively in a life-or-death dilemma. If anyone was a victim in this room, it was Nor. The knife on the table gleamed, reflecting Nor’s rueful expression.
“All righty, Guppy.” Grandpa ambled back into the house, thumbs hooked on his suspenders, at exactly the right moment. “Norton.” Grandpa extended a hand. “I cannot thank you enough for saving my girl. I’m grateful you were there tonight, looking out for her.”
Nor shook his hand. “It’s my job to protect.” Rena hadn’t hired him. “I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
On that, she agreed. It would be nicer if her quirk had remained a mystery, unbeknownst to her.
“You certainly got there in the nick of time. She’ll be okay. Just needs some quiet and a good night’s sleep.”
Yeah, quiet. Away from everyone else.
Nor seemed saddened by the dismissal but nodded. His blue eyes locked on Rena. “Take care, Sirena. If you need anything...” Nor trailed off as Grandpa escorted him to the door.
What she needed was isolation. What she needed was a safe space where she couldn’t hurt anyone else. What she needed, that dark part of her suggested, was to receive some of her own medicine.
◆◆◆
The covers lay heavy, feeling too much like TJ’s overbearing weight across her hips. Rena shoved them off as soon as her door clicked shut behind Grandpa, making a mess of the careful tucking he’d done.
The fan overhead hissed through the air, sounding too much like the relentless wash of the waves lapping over her face. Rena jumped up and smacked the switch, making the bed creak as she flopped face down.
The darkness closed in, appearing too isolating like the dark emptiness of the remote beach, distant from the bonfire. Rena flipped over and clicked on the bedside lamp, making shadows jump into existence around the room.
The spread-eagle pose was unsettling, seeming too reminiscent of the submissive position of helplessness she’d allowed herself to get in. Rena curled onto her side, making her nightshirt ride up. She yanked it back down, stretching it over her knees. The fetal position was safer, more protected, more cowardly. Because she hadn’t really been helpless at all.
The smooth necklace was her only comfort against the swirling disturbed, ashamed and confused emotions. The heirloom was all she could cling to after her parents left her alone.
Alone—exactly as she should be.
Rena took a deep breath. Uncurling slightly from her ball, she pulled her shoulders back and tried to embrace that thought, setting aside the niggling desire to be wanted. Humans were inherently social beings, right? It didn’t make her weird to want to have friends, a family. Being aloof wasn’t ideal. It was an important protective measure, a necessary measure: for her sanity and a chance at a relatively normal life—at least a life without becoming Their lab rat; for Grandpa’s peace of mind; for Kayna and Liam’s freedom, emotionally and socially; for JT’s, well, life; for Nor’s…
Actually, Rena rather thought that, based on their experiences together, Nor was comfortable playing Hero. In that case, she’d definitely need to remove herself from his life, to relieve his delusional addiction for extreme chivalry of the temptation.
Plan: pull ba
ck from them all over the next few months, embrace the role of Spectre, until she could haunt them no more.
Once Rena moved away, they’d forget; they’d move on. She’d move on; leave it all behind—leave them all behind, happier and safer and unburdened by her atrocious acts. All she had to do was shove bubbly Kayna, caring Liam, observant Stew, friendly Tilly, and hero Nor in her mental box, then squash any of those instincts, those subconscious urges, killer tendencies, those essentially psychotic episodes from harming anyone in the meantime.
The box was getting overcrowded, the lid not quite sealing, letting the undeniable truth about the latter part of her plan seep like smoke through her mind.
Her...instincts...had taken over twice now, at least in her memory. Given that her memory spanned the last half-year or so, those statistics were appalling—not that any number of near (or complete, if her nightmares were believable as the evidence indicated) murders was acceptable. Rena was some kind of uncontrollable sociopath.
The snap to her wrist did nothing to assuage the turmoil roiling like waves inside Rena. She rolled to her other hip, feeling itchy and uncomfortable, as if the coat of sand that had stuck to her salty skin hadn’t come off in the shower. Nausea rose.
Maybe this affliction was part of the PTSD. The same way seeing Nor’s blue eyes had triggered the memory that day on the pier. She’d been underwater, trapped, alone with JT. Just like with Dad. It kicked on her survival instinct. After all, she had survived that wreck. Her success could’ve been due to her actions, however disturbing they were, however much they had caused her father’s failure to survive. The saltwater might have triggered a flashback, as if it were a catalyst or a conductor which could jolt her body into all-consuming, life-or-death panic that blacked out her better judgment—or any, really. PTSD symptoms, They’d said, could be triggered by similarities with the accident.
That was more of a rational or at least medical description. Their prodding and questions in the hospital and at her therapy sessions weren’t unwarranted after all. All the more reason to move inland and stay far away from the beach to avoid being a risk to those around her.