by Mia Storm
She nods encouragingly and leads me into her office, closing the door behind us. She takes a seat in the wingchair as I lower myself onto the couch. “This session is yours, Lilah. We can talk about what you remembered, or anything else that you want to talk about.”
I squirm to get comfortable in the corner of the cushions and lean my elbows on my knees, watching my toes turn first in, then out. “I’ve had flashes blood for a while—a knife pressed against Destiny’s forehead, but I don’t remember whose hand it was in.” I look up at her. “I asked her Monday and she says it wasn’t mine.”
“Why would you think it was?”
“It was a carving knife I kept under my bed when creepy people started squatting in our house.”
“Because you were scared?”
I nod.
“So you see this knife cutting Destiny, but not who’s holding it?”
I rub my forehead. “There are a whole lot of things that don’t make sense. I see a lot of blood—too much to be just from Destiny’s cut. We were covered with it. We cleaned up in the bathroom and when we came out, the house was burning and we had to run through the fire to get out.” Things are scrambling in my mind as I try to piece it together. “I think our mom might have set the fire.”
“While you were in the house?” she asks, keeping both her tone and expression carefully neutral.
I nod. “But I don’t think she meant to hurt Destiny and me. I just don’t know why she would have done that.”
“The blood,” she says. “If it wasn’t Destiny’s, who do you think it belonged to?”
I shake my head. “I can’t remember. I don’t even know how I ended up covered in it.”
She leans toward me, her hand on her knee. “Do you want to remember, Lilah?”
I take a deep breath and rub at the itch in my arms. “Yes and no.”
“If you’re serious about remembering, it’s possible hypnosis could get you past the block in your memory.”
Cold terror grasps my heart and squeezes, sending a shiver wracking my body. “How would that work?”
“It’s really just helping you to find a meditative state where things are clearer.”
“But I would be awake…remember what I remember?”
She nods. “You will always be in full control.”
I’m shaking as I stand and move to the window. Her office looks out the front of the building, and Bran is out there. A light drizzle has started and he’s pacing the parking lot near his car, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’s getting wet. He stops and looks toward the door I entered through, then paces some more.
I turn back to Mary. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Just have a seat,” she says, motioning to the couch.
I move toward it. “Should I lay down?”
“Only if you want to,” she says.
Instead, I curl into the corner and pull my knees to my chest.
She takes me through the basic drill and says at any point if I want to bring myself back to a full conscious state, I only have to count backwards from five.
“Ready?” she asks me.
I nod.
She briefly goes over the instructions again and then counts to five.
“Are you comfortable, Lilah?” she asks.
“I don’t feel any different,” I say, honestly.
“Then we’re right on track,” she says. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Feel free to answer only what you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay.”
“We already talked about your expulsion from school,” she starts. “You got home, then what happened?”
My mind slips effortlessly back to that gray day. I feel the mist collecting on my face as I trudge toward home.
I’m walking alone because someone from Lo’s group home came for her, but the school couldn’t reach my parents to talk to them about my suspension, so they finally let me go on my own. When I get to the house, I can hear yelling from the sidewalk, which is nothing new. Someone’s always yelling. Usually Dad. Stoned people aren’t as mellow as you’d think.
I walk in and find the source of the yelling is some massive guy I’ve never seen before. He’s younger than Dad and has a raised red scar down his left cheek.
“You said that last week!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth into Dad’s face.
Dad’s in the same stained wife-beater he’s been wearing for the last week, the fringe of his stringy dark hair long and wild around his face. And he’s stoned, as usual. I can tell by the way he just stares at the guy for too long before answering. “I fucked up, but I’ll get your cash.”
When I close the door behind me, they both look up.
“What are you looking at?” Dad snarls.
I take the stairs two at a time up to my room. When I glance down from the top, the guy is watching me.
“I know who has money,” Dad says, but I don’t wait to hear who. I close my bedroom door and lock it, then curl onto my mattress on the floor and press my pillow over my head.
The bang a few minutes later sounds like something exploding, even through my pillow, I toss it aside and hear Destiny scream, “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Your pop says you’re stashing cash. He owes me.” It’s muffled through the wall, but there’s no mistaking the gravel voice of the guy from downstairs.
“I don’t have any cash,” Destiny says, but it’s a lie. She’s been working secretly at night and putting the money away to get us out of here.
There’s another crash, things being tossed.
“You don’t want to give me the cash?” the guy bellows. “I got another idea how your pop can settle his debt.”
When Destiny screams, I grab my knife and move to the hall. Dad’s not there. The wood of Destiny’s door frame is splintered around the latch.
The huge guy has Destiny pinned against the wall with a massive hand across her throat. He’s torn her leggings and underwear and is his pushing down his pants. Her face is purple and she’s choking out garbled sounds as she tries to push him away.
There’s a second I can’t make a sound, but when the guy groans, I finally find my voice.
“Get off her!”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “I’ll get off her when I’m done. Then your dad’s gonna finish paying me back when I fuck you too.”
His dick out of his pants. It’s hard and purple. I’ve never seen one like that before and there’s a second all I can do is stare.
“You like what you see, little girl? How ‘bout you come here and suck it.” He grabs Destiny’s hair and knocks her head hard against the wall twice. She goes down in a heap and he lunges for my arm. I swing out with the knife. Because my attention is so focused between his legs, that’s where the point lands. It sinks through the hairy white flesh where his leg meets his body.
“You little bitch!” he bellows, swinging a fist into my face. It connects and I feel a firecracker go off in my cheek. I stagger back, but I have a death grip on the knife and it rips through his leg when I pull it out.
My ass hits the floor as blood spurts in a stream from the gash in his leg, just like in the movies. He comes for me again, but stumbles when his leg won’t hold him. He goes down on a knee, then drops to his hands.
“You fucking cunt!” he growls, but it doesn’t have the threat behind it now. It’s more a mix of horrified disbelief. He makes another grab for me and gets my leg, but when I kick out and slash at his arm with the knife, he howls and rolls onto his back, pressing a hand to where blood is still gushing from his leg.
“What the fuck!”
Dad’s voice comes from behind me and I spin, the bloody knife still in my hand. His eyes are wild, and standing in the splintered door, he looks just like Jack Nicholson in that scene from The Shining.
I drop the knife and backpedal to the wall, barely caring that I’m only a few inches from the bleeding guy. He’s pale now, and his screams have tapered into groans.
&n
bsp; “Leave her alone.” Destiny’s voice is a choked rasp.
When I look toward her, she’s pulling herself to her feet, her leggings torn and hanging from one thigh. Dad starts toward me, but Destiny lunges for the knife. She’s too unsteady, though, and goes down on the floor.
Dad scoops the knife off the bloody carpet with one hand and fists his other into her hair. He presses the tip to her forehead. “This what you wanted? What was your plan? Gonna slit your old man’s throat?”
I curl into a ball and press my eyelids shut tight when a trickle of blood starts down Destiny’s forehead. My heart’s pounding in my throat, choking off my scream.
I didn’t save her. Dad is going to kill us both.
But then there’s an earsplitting crack.
I open my eyes and Mom’s standing behind Dad. She’s wobbly on her feet, and barely more than a skeleton, with sunken, red rimmed eyes and cracked lips. But in her hand is a crow bar, and on the floor is my dad, blood pouring from a dent in his head just over his right ear.
She drops to the floor on her knees. “Get cleaned up,” she says. “Get dressed and go. I got this.”
The scene fades and I blink, not sure how much I said out loud.
“Lilah?” Mary asks. “What did you recall?”
“Nothing.” I say, an uncontrollable tremor shaking my body.
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train. I hurt all over, and I’m shaking so hard I can barely speak. “My friend is in the parking lot. I need him.”
She looks at me a long time before gaining her feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter 31
Bran
When I see Lilah walking toward me through the drizzle with an older woman, I stride in their direction.
“Are you okay?” I ask when I reach her. She’s pale, and looks shell shocked.
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
I loop an arm around her shoulder and start guiding her to my car.
“I’ll look for you next Saturday, Lilah,” the woman says to her back. “Please don’t miss.”
She doesn’t respond.
I help her into my car, then get us the hell out of here. Once we’re away from the hospital, I pull to the side of the road. “Talk to me Lilah.”
She shakes her head. “I need to talk to Destiny.”
Something happened in there and my natural instinct is to protect her, but I can’t protect her from her own demons.
When we get to her apartment, I walk her up. I know the situation with Destiny might still be delicate, but Lilah’s pretty out of it and I’m not going to chance her breaking her neck on those steep stairs. I know that was the right call when she leans on me for support when we reach the top. She opens the door and I follow her through, my arm firmly around her waist. Destiny is on the couch, Mom’s old TV playing a The Big Bang Theory rerun. When she sees me there’s a flash of anger in her eyes…until she gets a look at her sister. She’s off the couch like a shot, crossing the room to us.
“What happened to her?” she demands.
“That’s Lilah’s place to tell you,” I say.
I start to turn Lilah over to her sister, but she wraps her arms around me and presses her face into my neck. “Thank you,” she whispers. She holds me for several beats of my pounding heart before her grip loosens, but it’s a moment longer before I can force my arms to let her go.
I kiss the top of her head, then draw back. “You two have some things to deal with, and I don’t want to make that harder on you than it has to be, but just know, I’ll always be here if there’s anything you need.” I lift my eyes to Destiny’s. “Both of you.”
I turn for the door and head down the stairs to my car. It’s Saturday and I need to get to the bar. But I can’t help looking up at Lilah’s window before I get in, hoping she and Destiny will be able to help each other through whatever this is.
Chapter 32
Lilah
I watch the door well after Bran is gone. Destiny sits next to me on the couch and combs her fingers through my hair and I still watch the spot where he was.
“Bran took me to my appointment with Mary,” I finally say.
Her hand stops.
I clear my throat. “I know Dad isn’t in jail.”
She sighs and shakes her head cautiously. “How much did you remember?” she asks.
I face her. “All of it.”
Her face crumples.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice lowering.
“You were so young, and you’d blocked it all out. I didn’t want you to remember. I wanted you to be able to grow up without being haunted by that memory.”
“Is that why we ran? Why you told me not to look back?”
“Think about it, Lilah. People died. I didn’t know what was going to happen with the house…if it was going to burn the bodies or if they would know what happened.”
“Do they know?”
“That Dad and that guy were dead before the fire?” She shakes her head. “I watched the news and never saw anything. I guess they figured a couple of tweakers dying in a meth fire wasn’t unusual. They probably didn’t even investigate.”
“What about Mom?”
Her lip curls. “What about her?”
“Is she really in jail?”
She nods. “She belongs there, Lilah. She stopped being our mother then day she started using.”
“But they don’t know she killed Dad?”
“No.”
There’s a lump of emotion in my throat that I don’t want to feel. “She did that for us, Destiny.”
Her jaw tightens. “She did it for herself. You know he hit her, Lilah. You spent years watching it happen.”
“But, right then…she saved us.”
She stands and moves to the kitchen. “Believe what you want. I know she hasn’t given a shit about us for most of our lives.”
I know she’s right, but all of a sudden, I want to hear it from her. “I want to see her.”
Her eyes narrow and she starts shaking her head. “No way, Lilah.”
“It’s been two years. She’s got to be clean now.”
“I don’t care. She’s not our mother anymore.”
I know from the look on her face that I’m not going to win this. I take a deep breath and click on the TV.
♫
When I walk into Sam Hill, Bran is behind the bar and every inch of me aches when I see him. I’ve taken the last five days to pull my shit together. He’s texted me every day to check in, but he’s given me space.
I set my guitar case on the stool that seems to be mine now and unlatch it.
Bran slides a Coke across the bar to me and sets out a tip jar. “Was hoping I’d see you tonight.”
Now that he’s snagged my gaze, I can’t shake free. He comes slowly around the bar and takes my hand, then pulls me through the kitchen door. He pulls me into his arms and buries his face into my hair. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I sink against him and soak up the feeling of his strong arms holding me close, the warmth of his breath in my hair, the tenderness of his lips on my forehead, down my temple, across my cheekbone, eventually finding my mouth. He kisses me, so slowly, but with every ounce of himself.
Right here, right now, I know this is where I belong.
“I love you,” I whisper when he draws away.
“I want so badly to help you, Lilah, but I feel so fucking helpless.”
I look up at him and he kisses the tip of my nose. “There’s something you can do.”
“Anything.”
“I need a ride to San Francisco.”
♫
I asked Destiny to come with us, but she wouldn’t even consider it. She tried to forbid me to come, but I told her I needed this for my sanity.
When I walk into the prison, I’m shaking. Bran has my hand and I’m gripping so hard I’m sure I’m about to snap his fingers. T
hey make me store my bag in a locker and go through a metal detector before they let me into the visitation room.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Bran says, gesturing at a row of chairs near the storage lockers.
I press against him and he wraps me in his arms.
He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
“Don’t let me go.”
“Never,” he says, squeezing tighter.
I want to ask him to come with me, but there are things I need to ask my mom that I’m not totally sure I want anyone else, even Bran, hearing. Though, I can’t imagine I won’t tell him everything at some point.
He kisses me again and I draw away and turn for the door. I walk into a large room with rows of tables and benches bolted to the floor. There are a few tables near the back that are occupied, but the majority are not. I take a seat at the one across from the door and wait. It’s a few minutes later that a door in the back opens and a woman walks through. She’s skinny enough that her gray jumpsuit hangs off her. Her blond hair is pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. When she lifts her head I see Destiny’s blue eyes looking at me, hollow, but not quite as dead as the last time I saw them.
I stand as she approaches the table. “Mom.”
“God, Lilah. You’re so beautiful.” She looks like she’s deciding if she should shake my hand or hug me or just sit.
This isn’t some big, touching reunion. I have no idea what I’m feeling for this woman who was never really my mother. I’m not really even sure if I’m ready for the conversation I have to have to get the answers I need. I sit and she slides into a seat across from me.
“You look okay,” I say, only realizing I wish she didn’t when I hear the disappointment in the words. I want to know she’s suffered at least as much as Destiny and me, but she looks like nothing’s ever happened.
“Despite everything,” she says, flicking her jumpsuit, “I’m good. How are you and Destiny?”
I glare at her. “There’s no point in pretending you care now when you never did before.”
Her eyes moisten, but I refuse to let myself feel even a pang of regret for telling her the truth, even if she doesn’t want to hear it.