Crowned with Guilt (Remember the Reaper Book 1)

by S. K. Rose

  She lives in a cage like a freaking wild animal!

  I run my fingers through my hair and try to imagine this life. Constantly in fear of being caught and thrown into the system or juvie. Going “home” each day to be utterly alone. Unable to confide in anyone for fear of being exposed, although I bet that her pride wouldn’t allow it either. Having only a handful of personal items and a single locker of canned food.

  Nobody asks you how your day was, no hot dinner waiting at the end of a long day. Oh great, and here I was judging her for finding a job just because I was jealous of her showing some skin.

  I think back to last year when I was irritated about having sleep on the lumpy couch because Dad’s buddy needed a place to crash. It was just for a few days and I could not stop whining about it to Marybeth. Tessa’s been sleeping on these grimy tiles for what? A couple of years she said she hasn’t been home.

  Jesus, she’s been in this shit-hole, alone for. . . years.

  I’m amazed she isn’t more bitter and sarcastic.

  Turning to leave, wanting to get as far away from here as possible, I see her slide by me to collect a few things from her “bedroom” before slinging her backpack over her shoulder. There’s a tightness around her eyes and a defiant jut to her mouth as she stands there, waiting for me to say something.

  From the small amount of time I’ve known her, I realize it’s a bad idea to exhibit any pity; she would find it demeaning. She’s too strong and proud for that. It must have killed her to even let me see this place. As I stew in my head for the proper words in this delicate circumstance, I hear her small voice.

  “Please, please don’t tell Beth.” She wrings her hands and I get a glimpse of the embarrassment she’s trying desperately to hide. “She’s my friend—my best friend actually—and she’ll be hurt if she doesn’t hear this from me. . .” Her words trail off.

  I want nothing more than to rush over and run my fingers through her long hair and place my lips to her forehead. I want to tell her everything’s going to be okay, and that she doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

  But I don't do any of these things. Instead, I clench my fists and dig my heels into the ground. She’s only allowed me to embrace her in one moment of weakness; it was not an all-access-pass to her body. I have to give her space and let her process everything in her own way. Attempting to embrace her right now, in this state of vulnerability, would likely earn me a swift kick to the balls.

  “Don’t tell her what?” I flash her a smile and attempt to lighten the tension that comes off her in waves. She rolls her eyes at me, but relief flashes through her expression.

  “Ready to go home?” I ask, purposefully stressing the word home. Sure enough, I watch her eyes widen with surprise.

  “You’re seriously okay with me living with you guys? I know it’s bat shit crazy, and I can just tell your mom th—” She glares when I begin to chuckle. “What?” she demands with that adorable scowling face I’ve come to adore.

  “You think you’re going to be able to tell my mom no? Coming from a lifetime of experience—not gonna happen. She might actually be more stubborn than you, if that’s possible.”

  “Yeah, but. . .” She inhales sharply when I take a few quick steps and stop just a few inches away from her face.

  “Like I said, Tess, are you ready to go home?” I ask gently, and this time she responds with a nod. Evidently, my self-control has slipped a notch as I reach gently toward her face and tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear, the way I’ve seen her do a dozen times. I look down into her big blue eyes and suddenly foreign images flood my mind.

  There’s a giant man looming over me with the exact same shade of blue eyes, glaring down at me with a sneer on his face. He’s got a death grip on my hair and I’m fighting back tears from the burning pain of my scalp. I am small, helpless. . . but there’s an overwhelming anger storming inside me, an anger that has made me stupidly brave. Without warning, the blue-eyed man roars in my face, I tremble with fear beneath his words, “She. Is. Mine.”

  “Andrew! Fuck, Andrew?” My eyes are clenched shut, and forcing them open, I see her distraught face hovering over me.

  “I’m f-f-fine.” Damn stutter! I take a deep breath and try again, just as my doctor taught me. “I’m fine,” I repeat with a stubborn determination. She’s unconvinced as her eyebrows remain drawn and lips pursed shut.

  “A memory came back. The doctors told me that anything can set them off. I think maybe it was your eyes, the man’s eyes in my memory were the exact same shade of blue. It was strange, and I’ve no idea who it was.” Immediately, her worry transforms into fear right before my eyes.

  “It’s okay, really. I stutter sometimes under stress and getting back memories takes its toll on me. I promise I won’t keel over on you, okay?” My morbid joke doesn’t seem to help. Not a bit.

  I grab one of her two bags and we make our way back to the car in silence. There’s a dark cloud of thoughts hovering over her, and I make it my mission to scare it away. We only have to be back by dinner, that gives us the rest of this morning and all the afternoon to have a little fun.

  I text my sister but only get short and slightly annoyed responses in return that she’s busy and to keep Tessa away for a few more hours. Since that was already my plan, I don’t try to read too much into it and am happy to get her to myself for the whole day.

  “What are you grinning about?” The small smile on her lips doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Mom and sis are up to something, and we’ve been banned from coming home just yet. Looks like we’re going to have ourselves a little adventure.” I grin and fully expect her to argue.

  Instead, she gives me a feisty smirk and relaxes back into the seat. “Looks like I’m all yours then, Blackwell.” She bites her bottom lip nervously before looking out the window.

  Not yet, beautiful, but we’ll get there.

  Chapter 35

  ─────

  Tessa

  The car ride is quiet, but not awkward by any means. It should probably, no definitely, be more worrisome that I’ve no clue where he’s taking me. Normally, I would rather jump out of a moving train than go anywhere with someone, especially alone. But it’s not just someone, it’s my Andrew and fuck if he didn’t look so damn excited about this adventure.

  Now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I did something just for shits and giggles. For once, just today, I’m going to veer off the path of anger and loneliness, and I’m going to just let go.

  Unfortunately, with no distractions, my mind begins to wander, an annoying habit it’s taken up as of late. Andrew remembered my father with the memory that about knocked him to his knees. I knew what he saw even before he mentioned the blue eyes. The sheer terror that crossed his face as his eyes glazed over, was the exact expression he wore right before. . . well, right before his attempted murder by my own flesh and blood.

  Coming up for air from an ocean of thoughts, I focus on the unfamiliar scenic view whizzing by. We must be outside the town limits of Alder Grove. Without a big fuss, without a celebration or warning signs going off in my head, we simply left everything I’ve ever known behind in the dust. It seems absurd right now, but I’ve never stepped foot out of this shitty town, and seeing the highway stretch out before us, a bolt of excitement travels the length of my body. After everything that’s happened it feels so good to just escape.

  I don’t care where we’re going, all I know is I can’t wait to get there.

  ʢ ʢ ʢ

  I blink groggily a few times and adjust myself back up from where I had slid down in the seat. Guess my little unhinged batting episode at the house took its toll on me. The image of my unconscious mother with the fresh cigarette burn swims before my eyes. She’s a cockroach, and it’s more likely than not she’s just sleeping off her high and will be completely fine by tomorrow. Simply choking and dying on her own vomit would be too good for her anyway. It would have been fun to see
her wake up to the destructive wake of my path though.

  I shove the thoughts away and refuse to continue thinking about the monster who created me. She doesn’t deserve my pity or guilt. I glance over and abruptly recall where I am and who I’m with. I hurriedly wipe away the sleep drool from the corner of my mouth.

  “I think that snore cleared out all the little woodland creatures for miles around.” Andrew smirks and I give him a droll look in response.

  “Fuck off, I don’t snore,” I retort, trying to stifle a yawn.

  “I see you’re just gonna be a bundle of fun in the mornings, aren’t ya?” He laughs this time, and appears to be in a great mood. It’s annoyingly infectious. “Good thing we’ll be getting coffee very soon,” he finishes.

  I perk up at that. Damn, I could use a boatload of coffee right now.

  “So where are we, anyway?” I see lots of tall buildings and cars zooming around. Everyone appears to be in a rush.

  “Portland.”

  “Portland? Jesus, how long was I asleep?” I groan.

  “Oh, calm down it’s not that far, and trust me—it’ll be worth it.” He throws me a wink.

  Ungh, I love when he flirts.

  Ignoring my raging teenage hormones, I realize that I do trust him, implicitly. I don’t even know this person anymore—shit we’re basically strangers now—but I trust him with everything that I am. It’s quite infuriating, but I know deep down that even if he never remembers me, he will always be my Andrew.

  The boy who pulled me into sunshine when I was shrouded in darkness.

  We pull into a huge parking garage, and soon enough we’re out walking on the sidewalk. Important-looking people zoom past, dirty-looking hipsters loiter around shops, and noise seems to come from every direction. From the slow and muted town of Alder Grove to being thrown into this city bursting with activity is thrilling, but has me a little on edge. I start to feel claustrophobic and I think Andrew senses it when he takes my hand in his. I grip it tightly and see him give a small smile as he leads us through the throng of people.

  Suddenly he stops and turns to look at me. The smile on his face is nervous now, as if he’s second-guessing his decision to bring me here, but it passes quickly.

  “First, we’re stopping in this store. Don’t get me wrong—I have quite enjoyed seeing you in my clothes, but you might be more comfortable in something different?”

  I gasp. Looking down in horror, I remember what I’ve been traipsing around in. He does a terrible job of suppressing his grin and leads me into a shop. Nothing has price tags, which immediately makes me nervous. I mean, he saw where I live; he can’t possibly think I have money to blow on this sort of thing.

  “Actually, I think I look fine. Let’s just go, Andrew.” I tug on his hand toward the door we just came through.

  “Will you stop worrying? I have money burning a hole in my pocket that I’ve been saving for a rainy day.”

  “Blackwell, it could not be sunnier outside.”

  “No, no, I’m certain I just heard thunder.” And with a mischievous grin, he once again tries to lead me to the nearest rack of clothes.

  “Please, Andrew, I really can’t.” Keeping the embarrassment out of my voice proves impossible. He stops and turns to me this time.

  “You owe me,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I scoff in response. “How do you figure that, Blackwell?”

  “’Cause it’s my birthday, and this is what I want.”

  My eyes widen at this. “Wait, today is your birthday? Why the hell do you want to buy me stuff on your birthday, crazy?” I’ve never been so confused in my life.

  “It’s my birthday, I get to call the shots, and what I would like is for you to stop arguing with me and just please pick out something to wear.”

  I roll my eyes, but can’t help but eyeball some bitchin’ black jeans on a shelf nearby. He snatches them up and we play this game where I ogle something and he throws it over his shoulder until he’s under a pile of clothes.

  He takes me over to a saleswoman and hands over everything. I don’t make out much of what he says to her in a hushed tone, but I definitely catch something about there being, ‘no price limit’ and me needing, “er. . . yes, probably undergarments and stuff.”

  I suppress a laugh and let the beautiful saleswoman take me to the dressing rooms in the back. Before I head in, she brings me a sexy black lingerie set and gives me a little wink before closing the curtain. I laugh, realizing she has the wrong idea thinking that this is a date, but decide not to give them back considering I desperately need a new bra and panties.

  It hurts my pride a little to discover I have a blast trying different articles of clothing on and twirling in front of the full-length mirrors. Usually I just hit the Walmart sales and get the cheapest stuff I can wear under my trusty leather jacket. I shudder at the thought of anyone seeing me act so. . . girly.

  Looks like I really am part of the vagina squad after all.

  The saleswoman, whom I’ve learned is named Miranda, helps me decide on an outfit, and then not-so-sneakily takes my runner-up outfits to the register. Taking one last look in the mirror, I’m surprised by how good I look and feel. The black jeans I picked out fit tight around my hips and legs, which additionally makes my ass look pretty bangin’, if I do say so myself. I’ve got on brand new slate gray boots rising halfway up my calves that I instantly fell in love with. My long-sleeved blouse (that nicely hides all my ugly bandages) is maroon colored and made of a slinky material that’s as soft as a baby’s butt.

  These rich people really know what’s up.

  Miranda whips out a brush from what seems like thin air and helps tame my unruly hair. She not only fixes my rat’s nest, but applies a touch of makeup to my face, telling me I’m, “just lovely,” about half a billion times.

  I guarantee whatever they’re paying Miranda isn’t enough.

  Feeling fly as fuck, I step out onto the main floor and I swear Andrew’s jaw drops, like, literally drops. Guess that means I have his stamp of approval.

  Screw it! I run over to him and let out a small squeal of excitement.

  Recovering quickly, he grins. “Did you just squeal? Oh-kay who are you, and what have you done with Gloomy Tess?”

  I try to glare at him, but I feel too damn good, too happy. Five seconds ago, I was in a rage fest, destroying everything around me, bawling my face off, and now I feel happy. I didn’t even realize I had positive emotion swimming around in me anymore.

  Maybe I needed to liberate myself from some of that pent-up anger and resentment more than I realized.

  “Only teasing, you look. . . well, damn, Tess, you look beautiful.”

  I turn away and feel my ears and cheeks start to heat up.

  Body, why dost thou betray me?

  Not wanting to see how flustered he makes me, I shove my arm in front of his face. He raises a questioning eyebrow. I look to my arm, to him, back to my arm, and up at him again, clearly exasperated.

  “Well? C’mon! You gotta feel this shit, Blackwell. It’s as soft as a fuckin’ baby seal!” I yell, waving my sleeve impatiently, mere inches from his nose.

  Both his eyebrows shoot up now as he looks behind me. Without having to turn, I know that Miranda and the man at the register both heard me.

  Sure enough, looking back, I find Miranda covering her mouth suppressing a giggle and register-guy is looking anywhere but at me and my obnoxious mouth.

  Andrew takes my hand and we quickly exit the shop. As soon as the glass door swings closed behind us, we burst into laughter. Attempting to catch my breath, I realize I never saw Andrew pay. When I ask him about it, he simply tells me not to worry, that it was taken care of and everything, including what I was previously wearing, he had already taken to the car while I was with Miranda.

  Sneaky bastard.

  We walk a few more blocks, a noticeable pep in my step, which before today I could have sworn was not an actual thing. Andrew stops and looks at me t
hen turns to look up at a building close by, following his gaze I peer up and shriek with excitement.

  Yeah, I shrieked. Like a fucking bird.

  There’s nothing unique or special-looking about the building itself, it’s the giant yellowing sign that calls to me with bold letters that read, Powell’s Books - Used & New Books.

  He’s brought me to the freakin’ City of Books.

  “Marybeth mentioned that you always have a book in your hand and love to read, and well, you can never have too many books.” His voice is smothered with uncertainty, as if he’s worried I think it’s a boring or childish idea. Before a response can even cross my lips, I jump into his arms with such an aggressive hug that I almost topple him right over.

  “You brought me to the City of Fucking Books!” I half laugh, half yell.

  “I’m almost positive that’s not its name.”

  “Fuck off, I’m officially renaming it!”

  “So this is okay?” His eyes shine with happiness, and I have no words to express just how much I relish that shine. I try to keep my cool and just nod a yes, but I feel like a damn bobblehead because I nod so furiously.

  He pulls open the door to the bookstore and we step inside to the main entrance. He goes over to the Information desk and comes back with a map, but I shake my head at it.

  “Blackwell, I thought you said an adventure. Put the map away, pretty boy.” I smirk at him playfully.

  “Alright, crazy, let’s head to the café first and get some food and coffee before we get lost in this place.”

  I nod in agreement and let him lead the way.

  While we eat, my mouth runs amok with excitement. It’s a miracle I don’t choke on the food I’m shoveling in.