by Tyler King
“Bullshit,” I scoffed. “We have great sex. I’m not—no. Fuck that. I love her.”
“You do. Hadley knows that. Put aside logic, Josh. Your emotional responses in these situations are outside rational thinking. Consciously, you’re making love with a consenting adult for mutual enjoyment. Deeper, in your subconscious, where that five-year-old boy lives, he doesn’t understand the difference.”
Reid looked at me. I looked at the floor. It went on like that so long I forgot I hadn’t responded.
“Now what?” I muttered.
“Come to terms with the disparity.”
Chapter 29
For the last forty-five minutes, Dr. Richardson had prattled on about the economic divide in America and its influence as reflected in popular music.
“I’m sorry,” a girl on the other side of the classroom remarked, “but I don’t get singers—like big celebrities—that write about being poor and having it so hard. I mean, hello, you’re rich. What more do you want?”
“It’s not like they were all born into fortunate circumstances,” another classmate argued. “I mean, look at Jay Z. He was—”
“Rap doesn’t count.”
“Excuse me?”
“What? It doesn’t.”
“Wow. That’s not racist.”
“What does that have to do with race?”
“Like all hip-hop artists are black and therefore grew up poor, so it’s okay for them?”
“Eminem is white.”
“That’s enough,” Dr. Richardson said. “Ms. Fuller,” he addressed the girl suffering from an abundance of stupid, “why don’t we table that discussion?”
I tried not to laugh at the absurdity happening around me. At the very least, the participation of others in discussion meant I could concentrate on more stimulating tasks and be left alone.
My phone buzzed with a text from Asha.
Photo lab. Now. Hadley needs you.
I was out of my seat in an instant, ignoring the calls from Dr. Richardson at my back.
Sprinting across campus, rain pelted my face and soaked through my clothing. The clouds were mean overhead, threatening a storm that would last all night.
When I reached the photo lab in the art building, Asha pointed me toward the darkroom. Inside, Hadley sat huddled in the corner under a table.
“Hey, Punky. Is there room under there for me?”
She said nothing. Illuminated by the single red bulb in the center of the ceiling, Hadley sat with her knees to her chest, head resting on her folded arms. She was shaking. The anxious, terrified vibrations shattered my heart.
I crawled under the table beside her and pressed my back to the wall. “Who we hiding from?” I asked, not that I expected an answer. “Asha is gone. I think the game is over. So if you want to come out now…”
Hadley had spent the entirety of class secluded here. When Asha couldn’t convince her to leave, she had sent for me to coax Hadley out.
“Sweetheart.” I tucked her hair behind her ear as I looked for just a glimpse of her face. “Talk to me.”
Nothing.
I waited, but the silence only served to make me feel impotent, insufficient.
“You used to let me sleep with your blanket, remember?” I let my head fall against the wall, closing my eyes. “The first time I saw you, that blanket was tangled around your arms and neck like a boa.”
A rainbow of pink, blue, and yellow wrapped around a tiny version of Hadley.
“The first time I came to you after he was done with me, you gave me the blanket and said it would protect me. Every night after that, I slept wrapped in that thing like a cocoon.”
Her shaking slowed, though Hadley still wouldn’t acknowledge me. I did notice her hands, like tense claws, gripping her arms. She was fighting, silently and alone. Without me.
“Thing is,” I told her, “the blanket didn’t work. Just about every night it was the same thing over and over. Yarn wasn’t much of a deterrent against monsters like him.” I slid my hand over her thigh, squeezing her leg. “You know what did help? You did, sweetheart. In your own way, you fixed me up with my leftover pieces.”
I constantly pondered what might have been if not for Hadley. What might have become of me if her parents hadn’t died, sending her to the foster home. How long would I have stayed there, subjected to that man’s vile attention? Without her, my parents would have been two people living a few hours away who’d never spared a thought for this boy, alone and covered in shame. But for their influence, for Hadley’s friendship, I found an escape from the persistent nightmare that followed long after he was gone.
“How many different ways can I say that I wouldn’t be alive if not for you? I’ll never be able to square us on that one. So please, Punky. Lean on me. Fight me. Slap me. Scream and throw things. Don’t shut me out. Not when I know you’re suffering. It kills me.”
“It’s like suddenly realizing I forgot to turn off the stove,” she muttered without looking up. “And then I’m picturing the entire house burning down. Only the flames find me sitting in class. Like they’re licking up my legs. I know it isn’t real, but it burns. I feel it searing my skin while I tell myself it’s just a delusion.” Hadley’s voice grew softer as her hands clenched, nails biting into her forearms. “I see someone inside,” she continued. “And I’m not here anymore. I’m asleep in bed. I’m alone. He’s coming for me and I don’t—”
“You’re not alone.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling Hadley against my chest. “You hear me? You’re not alone. I’m right here, Punky.”
Her hands fisted in my wet shirt.
“You’re never going to be alone again,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I won’t leave you behind.”
“How do you turn it off?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly. “But it starts with letting me get you out of here. You can’t sit in the dark forever.”
“The security video,” she muttered.
“What about it?”
“It’s not working. That’s how this started.”
I pulled out my phone, bringing up the app for our security system. An error message popped up. Well, fuck.
“Just a glitch,” I told her. “I’m sure—” I swallowed the rest.
Any plausible explanation was irrelevant. No amount of empty reassurance would change the feelings of anxiety that had already taken hold in Hadley’s mind.
“Let’s go home. It’s storming like a motherfucker out there, anyway. Better to get home now before the roads flood.”
* * *
That night I did my best to distract Hadley. Even after we got home and locked up, she remained anxious, jumpy. The storm only got worse and had her flinching at every crack of lightning or creak and groan of the house when thunder clapped loud and violent on top of us.
It wasn’t her fault. Her irrational behavior was something she couldn’t control, no matter how hard she fought to hold it all in. Worse, there was nothing I could do about it. All the chicken soup and hot tea, blankets and silly cartoons, couldn’t quiet the part of her brain that screamed, Danger!
It was after midnight when she finally nodded off in bed. We slept in my room, Hadley’s body curled around me, tucked tight beneath the covers. I couldn’t fix it, but at least I felt useful. She needed me, and wasn’t that all anyone wanted? To have purpose. To have someone to take care of. Someone to miss you when you were gone.
As much as I had faith in Hadley’s ability to conquer anything, there was a good chance she’d never fully recover from the trauma of her parents’ deaths. And perhaps a selfish part of me didn’t want her to change. Because I liked being needed, and both of us being a little messed up meant I wasn’t alone.
* * *
My eyes snapped open. I looked down to see Hadley curled against me, her chest rising and falling with gentle breaths and one arm draped over my stomach. Outside, the storm raged on.
Wind howled through the trees in a wild song as rain battered the glass.
The clock on my nightstand was dark. The power was out. It might have been the air conditioner shutting down or the generator kicking on that woke me. Satisfied, I closed my eyes.
Minutes later, under the noise of the storm outside, I became aware of a hissing sound—long, consistent. Fifteen seconds, I counted. It stopped for a moment and started again.
A series of clicks.
My body tensed.
My heart beat faster.
In an instant, my vision narrowed in the darkness and my senses focused. I climbed out of bed to press my ear to the door and listen for the noise under the violent storm outside. There was no pattern to the hiss and clicks. I knew every sound of this house; those weren’t normal.
Pulling on a pair of jeans, I grabbed a flashlight and removed my pistol from the lockbox in the nightstand. I grabbed Hadley’s sweatshirt from the floor.
“Hadley.” I brushed my fingers across her cheek. “Wake up.”
She didn’t move as bursts of lightning lit up the room.
“Hadley. You need to get up.”
She stretched under the covers as she came to.
“Don’t speak. Don’t argue. Get in the back of my closet. Call the police. Stay there.”
Hadley shot upright. I took her face between my palms.
“There’s someone downstairs. I’m going down. You’re staying here. Call the cops. Stay very quiet. Do not come out no matter what you hear.”
“No, Josh,” she pleaded in a panicked whisper, grabbing at my wrists. “Don’t go down there.”
“Put this on.” I shoved the sweatshirt at her. “Now,” I demanded when she hesitated.
She pulled it over her head, climbing out of bed. “Please. Stay.”
“The storm has gotten worse. We don’t know how bad the roads are or how long it will take for the police to get here. The security lights are out. That means the generator isn’t running. It isn’t a coincidence.”
“But—”
“Don’t,” I insisted, placing my cell phone in her hand.
My course was set. I pushed her toward the closet and into the darkest corner under my hanging shirts.
“I love you. I promise, Punky, I’ll come back.”
Prying her hands from mine, I stepped away, ignoring her pleas and closing the door behind me to encase her in protective darkness.
I crept out of my bedroom and locked the door from the inside. The intermittent hissing noise continued below. I descended the stairs. Halfway down, I paused. Flashes of white through the windows filled the open space, and I noticed a dark, contiguous line drawn across walls. It continued through the foyer and, as I peeked around the corner, into the kitchen and living room. Then the smell hit me. Spray paint.
I released the safety on my weapon and held up my flashlight.
As I continued downstairs, the next step creaked. It felt like an air horn in a museum. A sharp, shrill noise that pinched every nerve. I heard a spray can drop to the wood floor. Footsteps ran toward me. I rushed to the bottom of the stairs as a dark figure blurred past.
“Hey!” I clicked on the flashlight.
He darted toward the door to the garage, so I lunged after him, grabbing the hood of his sweatshirt. Scott fell to the floor. Sprawled on his ass, he stared up at me, into the barrel of my pistol as I pulled back the hammer.
Open black sores dotted his chin and jaw. In the blue beam of the flashlight, I saw nothing: He was no one anymore, eyes vacant. Weeks ago he was a whole person; now he was half dead.
“Fuck, Scott.” I released the hammer on the gun and engaged the safety. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He shuffled back on his palms, scrambling to his feet. Scott squinted at the flashlight.
I stared at this hollow shell of my friend, a man I’d known for years, and realized how far he’d deteriorated. His unfocused eyes darted between my face and the gun at my side.
“Scott, why?”
But he wouldn’t say a word. Across his face played a struggle of indecision.
“Look at yourself, man. This isn’t you.”
“Fuck you, Josh. You ruined my life, took everything I had.”
“You chose this. You chose those pills over the band. So you break into my house? For what, a few bucks for your next score? Go home, Scott. Figure your shit out.”
“Right, because you don’t owe me anything. You treat people like shit and just expect them to stand and take it. But what gives you the right to judge me? You have no idea what I’ve been through. You’re so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you don’t even see the people around you. We exist. We have our own problems. Wake the fuck up, Josh.”
He had a point. The sad reality was that I’d let this happen. We all had. If I’d been paying attention to anything beyond my selfish narrow view, I might have noticed when his spiral began. I might have seen the signs. At the very least, I should have been there for him. Tried harder. He had one foot in the ground, and only now did he have my attention.
“You’re right.” I tucked the pistol in the waistband of my jeans behind my back. “I should have been a better friend. I’m sorry, Scott. I pushed you out, but I can help. Let me help. I’ll do whatever I can. You just need to get clean and then—”
“Do you hear yourself?” He scratched at his neck, shaking his head in disgust. “It’s like you can’t help but talk down to people.”
“I’m trying, please. If you don’t want my help, at least go to your family. They must be worried about you.”
“Nah, man. I can’t go back there. It’s too late for that.”
“So what, then? You can’t run.”
“What does that mean?” His head jerked up, eyes alert and accusing.
“The police are on their way. Hadley’s upstairs terrified. You can’t just run from this one. But if you let me help you—”
Scott looked toward the front window, then turned and ran. I followed him through the garage and into the mud, pleading with him to stay. Under the pelting rain, I watched him dive into his waiting car and fishtail through two inches of floating forest debris clogging the gravel driveway. I didn’t breathe until his taillights became invisible through the trees.
When I turned around, I saw the barrel of a hunting rifle with Hadley behind it. She stood ghostly still in the center of the garage. Her face a placid surface betraying no emotion, like a sleepwalker blind to the world around her.
“Hadley,” I said, my voice a timid shudder. “It’s me.”
She didn’t acknowledge my words but flinched when I moved toward her.
“Punky, it’s okay. It’s just me. He’s gone.”
She crumpled to floor, clinging to the rifle pointed at the ceiling. I pried the gun from her hands and slid it across the floor.
“Sweetheart?” Kneeling, I set down the flashlight and took her face in my hands.
“I always knew it was there,” she said, referring to the rifle I thought had been a secret since the day Tom stashed it in the foyer closet.
“Did you know it’s unloaded?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here.” I sat back, bringing her into my lap and hugging her to my chest. “You never fucking listen to me,” I said. Though she was perfectly calm, I felt my muscles tremble. “You’re so goddamn stubborn.”
“I couldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I’m so proud of you, Punky. I love you. So much. You’re my fucking hero.”
We stayed like that, clutching one another, until a barrage of lights and sirens splashed down the driveway.
Chapter 30
Session 10
“Did the police catch him?” Reid sat back, ever planted in the same leather chair with her tablet on her lap.
I couldn’t decide if her consistency was reassuring or if it pissed me off.
“Yes, a couple days later.” I rolled a quarter between the four fingers on my right hand, rehabilitati
ng my dexterity now that the cast was off. “He got picked up trying to pawn my guitars. Aside from trashing the house, he made off with anything of value he could carry. Small stuff. Some mics. A couple of Corey’s practice drums. Mostly just gear from the garage. He had shut off the generator and came in through the garage door. Busted the lock to get into the house.”
“You took some time off from school,” she said.
“Yeah, to get the house back in order. Painting the walls and stuff. Hadley got worse before she got better. She wasn’t afraid, exactly. More like a live wire jumping on the pavement, shooting sparks. She had all this energy and nowhere to ground it. She didn’t sleep, so neither did I. I would distract her, entertain her until she got sick of being babysat and shoved me away. So I wrote and she drew. Schoolwork and shit. Even back when we were still pretending to hate each other, I never saw so little of her.”
“That disappointed you.”
“Yeah, it did. I expected her to lean on me, crack and let me put her back together. I was prepared for her to completely break down. Instead, Hadley was retreating, while I was left…”
“What?”
“Feeling unnecessary. We stopped having sex,” I admitted. I ran both hands through my hair, thinking back to that sense of isolation. “Most of our interaction took place in uncomfortable silences.”
Reid glanced at the clock on the desk beside her. I rubbed at my eyebrow. Somewhere along the way I’d learned to read her mind, and she mine. We’d spent too much time together.
“Why are you stalling?” she asked.
“Am I boring you?”
“Actually, yes.”