Whispering Minds

by A. T. O'Connor

  Anger mingled with relief at the wash of memories. I grasped at the newness of it and wondered what else I was missing in the black holes of my childhood. I hated that I couldn’t remember.

  Chrissy turned her sunken eyes on me. Her breath smelled sour, like the slushy wetness on the bottom of the garbage can. It made my stomach curl, but the fresh memories of better times helped me hold my ground.

  She seemed to sense my discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it.” I leaned back against the wall and propped my feet on the tub to keep from sliding across the floor. I patted the rug in front of me, inviting her to sit on the chenille rather than the cold tile.

  “Can I…?” her voice trailed off and she pantomimed brushing her teeth.

  I jumped up and grabbed an extra toothbrush from the cupboard where Granny kept her bathroom supplies. Just in case. I doubt this was the emergency Granny had in mind, but figured she’d approve.

  Chrissy got unsteadily to her feet and made her way to the sink. She leaned heavily against it while she brushed her teeth, then washed her face in the cold water. She came back and slid her way down the wall and onto the floor. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “No problem.” We sat in silence, listening to the creaks and groans of the old farmhouse. “What were you doing with those guys?”

  She shrugged, and limp blonde hair fell over her face, shielding her from my question. When she looked up, she asked one of her own. “What about you?”

  “Yeah, there is that.” I didn’t know how to honestly answer my own question. There seemed to be nothing redeeming in stating that Collin was simply my psych partner—one I’d obviously been intimate with. At least according to Travis. And Indie.

  “I’m an idiot?” She giggled tentatively.

  Her laughter was infectious. “Then so am I. I wonder how many other girls have been snookered by their sweet talk and their psych smarts.”

  “Oh, I don’t know how much smarts plays into anything. At least not book smarts. More like street smarts.”

  I followed her gaze, tracing my way up the soft gold lines of wallpaper to the fan right above us. “How long have you known them?”

  “Hmmm.” Chrissy’s voice softened. “Collin is my brother.”

  My head jerked forward. “He what?”

  “Sad, I know.” Chrissy reached out her hand and touched mine. Her skin felt soft and pure against my own, not dried up and worn out like I expected it to be. “Don’t look like that. It’s really…has been, that is…worse. He watches out for me as best he can. I think.”

  My throat tightened. “His best sucks.”

  “Not all of us have such a cushy life.” Her words were vague, but her piercing eyes were not.

  “Seriously? I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m guessing you’re more wrong than you’ll ever know.”

  “Oh, come on. There isn’t anyone on campus who hasn’t seen your Travis. My God, legends are made from men like him.”

  I bristled at the implication. Especially because I had so thoroughly pushed him out of my life. “He’s not mine.”

  Chrissy crossed her arms in a quasi-temper tantrum. “Well, he does a mighty good imitation of it then. One thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t waste my time with Collin if I had Travis wrapped around my finger.”

  “Is that all you think about? Guys? And what you can get from them?”

  “Is there anything else?”

  Frustration welled in my chest, and I stood to leave. “I’m going to bed, Chrissy. I don’t need to hang out in my dead granny’s bathroom discussing the virtues of spreading your legs for a guy no matter what he looks like or what he gives you in return.”

  Chrissy snorted. “We all have our flaws, little Miss PFU.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You honestly don’t know?”

  “Besides the name of our college? No.”

  Chrissy’s voice softened. “Look it up.”

  My blood froze. I stumbled from the bathroom to the desk in Granny’s room. The computer was gone, but the internet cable snaked across the back. I connected my net book and typed in my search. My first attempt failed. The letters PFU took me to page after page of Prairie Flats University stuff.

  Footsteps sounded behind me. “Try P-F and Y-O-U.”

  I typed in the letters and hit enter. A web address topped the search list, followed by the website’s name: Porn Flicks YOUniversity.

  Chapter 25

  Collin’s roommate, Mister Media. Their apartment had been filled with more video equipment than a store. It made sense. Especially after what Collin said in the parking lot to Travis. And what Travis said to me on the phone.

  Even as I clicked on the link, anxiety made my heart race. God only knew what had happened at Collin’s. My blackouts had increased, and I had no way of knowing what I had done. Consciously or unconsciously. Id. Ego. All of a sudden, I hated psychology and all it implied about underlying desires.

  PFYOU. Porn Flicks YOUniversity boasted a classy home page despite the crass title.

  With my gut churning, I clicked on a likely tag. A directory for Crazy Coeds popped up. Still tastefully done. Tasteful like Collin’s apartment. Why didn’t I see it then? Rich digs, massive parties. Certainly the video equipment should have given it away and the paparazzi-like pictures. No graphic designer and psych major needed all that stuff.

  The apartment was nothing more than a set-up for their sick games.

  Another directory listed names followed by two options: photo or video. A very few had both.

  Alice. Still shots.

  Annibel. Video.

  Beth. Cathy. Mindy. Stacia.

  I had no interest in seeing my peers make names for themselves in some flakey, college porn ring and scrolled through the names as quickly as possible.

  Yet something nagged at my brain. I moved the cursor to the top of the alphabet.

  Hannah. Indie. Isabelle.

  I clicked on Indie’s name. The scream started in the pit of my belly—primal and angry—and rumbled its way up my throat and into the bedroom. Chrissy startled so badly, she fell off the bed, her hair sweat-skewed and her eyes puffy.

  When I turned back to the computer, my face returned my stare. I was a player in Collin’s freak show. In clothes I didn’t own. In undergarments I never knew existed. Speaking words I never wanted to hear again. The video played out like a commercial.

  The tease.

  The product.

  The promise.

  Thankfully, not the act.

  I replayed the video, just as stunned the second time around. Chrissy’s lack of response left me hollow. I needed her to understand this wasn’t me. “I didn’t do this.”

  Chrissy laughed, a low guttural sound that held no humor. “They all say that after their boyfriends stumble across this site.”

  “You’ve talked to them? These other girls?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “What your brother’s done is illegal.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. They all sign a contract.”

  You didn’t.

  “How do you know?” I asked both the voice in my head and Chrissy, not caring which one answered.

  “Because I’m there.” Chrissy’s eyes looked haunted.

  “When?”

  “Always.”

  None of this made sense. “Why would you be there?”

  “I bring them.”

  My heart thudded against my ribs, and I felt myself slipping. I fought for control. “You what?”

  “I bring them. My friends.” Chrissy curled back up on the bed.

  “These are your friends?” The disgust seeped out with my words.

  She nodded and closed her eyes, still under the influence.

  “How could you?”

  She giggled. “They like their payment.”

  I leaned over Granny’s bed and shook Chrissy until she looked at me. “Your brother p
ays your friends to whore in front of the camera?”

  This time her laugh was genuine. “They don’t whore themselves out. They know before they ever stand in front of that camera what they’re doing.”

  Bile rose in my throat. I tightened my grip. “Not me.”

  “No, not you. You were the surprise.”

  I dug my fingers into her flesh and shook her harder, my anger straining to break free. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Tears came to her eyes, and I let go of her shoulders. “Just that you were different. Collin called you the Mother Lode.”

  I looked back at the screen. The date blurred in the corner. December twenty-third. One week ago. Understanding dawned. At least now I knew what I’d done those lost two days before Christmas. I swallowed down bile and focused on me. In still frame, I wore a leather bra and panties with high heeled boots. A large studded bracelet covered my right wrist, hiding my gash. A black hat pulled down over one eye, and my hair fell to my shoulders in waves. Nothing was explicit except what I said. “Is this it? Or am I on another video in here somewhere?”

  Chrissy trembled. “This is it. As far as I know.”

  “But you didn’t bring me.”

  “Of course not. I knew right away in psych class not to mess with you. Not with Travis watching your every move.”

  Something niggled at my brain. “Then how did I get there?”

  “Duh, Collin was your partner.”

  An icy finger of fear slithered down my spine. Not just my partner, but my peer mentor. I’d been meeting with him since the first week of school. “Does Professor Balt know? He paired us up.”

  Chrissy shook her head vehemently. “Nobody knows. If anybody found out, Collin would never get his degree.”

  This seemed to bother her more than the videos he’d made. Keeping the disgust from my voice, I questioned her further. “So, you were there every time he videotaped them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s part of the deal. I bring the girls and drive them home afterward. Collin can’t afford to have his name attached to a drunk minor.”

  “Right.” I nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Because running a porn ring is so much better.”

  A scowl crossed Chrissy’s face. “It’s not like he did anything wrong. Nobody prostituted themselves out. They just had a little fun for the camera. I can’t help the supply and demand. Guys want it, what the hell’s wrong with getting paid to make them happy?”

  “It’s disgusting and immoral. Sober would they have done it?”

  “Sober or not, the money’s the same, and they are all eighteen. It’s legal.”

  “What about me? I’m only seventeen.” I waved to the computer screen, furious, but still unable to articulate exactly what bothered me most. “I’m willing to bet some of them are too. And by my count, that’s child pornography. Illegal no matter who got paid.”

  “Watching out for the underdog, huh? Is that why you drug me here tonight?”

  “What is wrong with you? Do you actually like being a part of your brother’s twisted game?”

  Chrissy looked away, but not before her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have a choice, okay?”

  That undid me. I sat beside her on the bed, remembering her reaction to me in the car. I suspected abuse from a dad, but never from a brother. “I’m sorry, Chrissy.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She wiped a sniffle with the back of her hand. When she looked at me, her eyes glittered with hope. “I mean, at least I try to keep the girls safe by being there, right? It’s got to help a little.”

  I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure it meant a lot, knowing they had someone looking out for them on some level.”

  And that’s the part that terrified me. At least those other girls had Chrissy, no matter how messed-up and pathetic she was. I looked back at the computer and my still-shot. “Were you there with me, too?”

  Chrissy nodded.

  “And I never did anything…more?”

  She laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  It was my turn to nod.

  “No. As far as I know, you only made that one commercial.” She traced a cross over her heart and pointed at the computer. “But look at you. You’re so hot you didn’t have to.”

  I ignored the heat in her voice. My next question burned like acid on my tongue. “I didn’t sleep with your brother did I?”

  “If you did, he never told me.”

  Her words offered little comfort. Travis would never believe my innocence based on Chrissy’s proclamation. Not after that debut video.

  Not that I believed it either.

  Of course, I wouldn’t have believed anything if I hadn’t seen the video for myself. With the gray fog crowding in, I grabbed my messenger bag and computer and headed to my room, leaving Chrissy alone in Granny’s.

  It was 3:45 in the morning, and I needed sleep. I doubted very much that I’d gotten any during my second stint at Collin’s apartment. Not after seeing the results of my first sleepover plastered all over the internet.

  * * *

  Luna waited for James to respond. Her fingers hovered over the keypad of her smart phone.

  James: We need to move forward.

  But Luna balked. She didn’t want to take the pills she’d so carefully hidden from the Dozen. She didn’t want to die. Not really. She just didn’t know how to live. Besides, now that Gemini knew them, there might be hope.

  As if reading her mind James finally texted a response. Luna, she will never let you out. She will use you, all of us, to keep herself from feeling her own pain. She always has and nothing will change that now.

  I don’t believe you.

  Get a grip. Half the time she doesn’t even know you exist. Doesn’t know that anyone exists beyond her own little world.

  Luna couldn’t deny that. Her threats had fallen on deaf ears, and Gemini didn’t realize how much danger she was in. If she wanted to, Luna could take Gemini’s life right now.

  Do it. I dare you.

  Luna folded upon herself, the pain intense. The desire to swallow the pills and end it all almost stronger than she could bear.

  If you don’t, I will.

  Chapter 26

  I barely made it out of the shower before the door flew open under a pounding fist. Travis barged into the room, stopped short of me and eyed my towel-clad body. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

  Despite the steam from the bathroom behind me, I shivered under his cool gaze. “Kind of hard to do from the shower.”

  “I’ve been calling for an hour.”

  “It’s only eight. It was a horrible night, I’m exhausted, and I needed….” I turned and ran down the hall with Travis hot on my trail and a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Chrissy. She should have answered the phone.” I pushed my way into Granny’s room where I’d left Chrissy. Covers mounded up in the center of the otherwise empty bed. “She’s gone.”

  Travis put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward him. Electricity shot through me, and I sucked in a deep breath of pipe smoke and him. My skin tingled under his touch, and I swayed forward, physically drawn to him like a butterfly to the first spring nectar.

  I wanted so much for this to be right. My voice came out breathless—“I’m sorry”—and broke the spell. He dropped his hands like he’d been burned. “You don’t have time for this. You’re losing your house.”

  I stared into his eyes, unable to register his words. “They can’t take this house away, I own it.”

  “Your parents’ house is on fire.”

  The air whooshed from my lungs, and I heaved for a breath. I shook my head. “Are my parents there? Are they hurt?”

  “It doesn’t sound like it.”

  His dad volunteered as a firefighter, and Travis always had the bad news first through the scanner. This knowledge propelled me into action. I
t gave me something to focus on. I headed to Granny’s room to change. “How long has it been burning?”

  “Since this morning. Mr. Parson called it in. Said he saw smoke and that your parents had been gone. He was worried about you.”

  I slammed the door between us. “Yeah, right.”

  From the other side, “Okay, maybe not. But that’s what he said.”

  Within five minutes I was ready to go. We left through the garage so I could grab my purse from the car. Water dripped from the packed snow around the tires, barely melting in the insulated garage.

  “Wasn’t this at Grandpa’s office?”

  Unable to face him, I nodded. A slight tic of fear raised the hair on the back of my neck. My scalp prickled, making my ever-present headache stretch across my forehead. His truck ate up the miles while my uneasiness grew. The snow from my drive home last night should have melted by now.

  “My parents broke into Granny’s.”

  Travis looked up sharply. “How do you know?”

  “It was a mess last night. Drawers emptied, her coffee cash gone and most of her jewelry missing. I can’t be sure what else, but I bet most of the valuable and easily portable trinkets. It didn’t look like the bigger stuff yet. Probably too hard to pawn. But, they didn’t get the things that mattered.”

  He arched his eyebrow at me, softening his features. “Safe deposit box?”

  “No. Granny buried them.”

  Not really, but close enough. Over time, Granny’s handmade potting bench had turned into a game of hidden treasures. As a kid, I hid rocks, flowers, feathers and any other treasures I found as a surprise for Granny. Each time I left, she would search through the countless drawers to dig up my newest gift. Likewise, each time I visited her on the farm, I’d sneak out to the shed and open the cubbies one at a time until I found a small present to welcome me back.

  In the beginning it was a note or a small piece of candy. As I got older, the bench morphed into a giant jewelry box. By the time I finished my junior year, she had passed along her most prized heirlooms this way. Not wanting them to be found and sold by my dad for some quick money, I had left them in the secret compartments. To keep Mom from eying the bench as a future project, I painted it bright orange and left a mess of planting supplies around it.