Used

by Kate Dunbar

  SIXTEEN and NINETEEN

  “Yeah, dude, I’ll be there at ten with the cash. Meet me in front of David’s house.” Lucas sticks his head into the refrigerator holding his phone and comes back out with a stack of turkey and cheese in one hand and mustard in the other. “Nah, man, you don’t need to worry. As long as you have the stuff, we’re good.”

  I shift in my seat on the couch in the living room and watch him over the book I’m supposed to be reading for English. It’s a Saturday night, and I’m supposed to have this book finished by Monday. I’m behind because of the school musical. It closed last weekend, so I’ve been playing catch-up from the rehearsals and shows all week long. That means sitting at home on a Saturday night to push through the pages. I’d go out with my friends if I didn’t think Mr. Thomas would throw a pop quiz at us in class on Monday. Lizzie wants me to go on a double date with her and her new boyfriend, Tommy, and one of his friends. But a hundred and fifty-three pages are calling my name, so my love life is going to have to wait.

  Lucas holds his phone between his shoulder and ear and makes a double-decker sandwich big enough for three people. He flunked out of college because he never went to class. Now he’s living back home.

  “Yeah, 5224 Miller Road,” he confirms and takes a huge bite. “Yep, see you then.” His eyes pop up and catch mine. He drops his phone on the counter and takes another bite. “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing. Going to a party tonight?”

  “Yeah.” He shoves another bite in his mouth. “Wanna come? I’m sure we can find you someone fun to hang out with there.” He looks back at me with a smile that screams more warning than invitation, making my blood run cold.

  “Nope, I’m good.” I shake my head and dismiss him, closing the book in my hand. “I’ll be upstairs if Mom needs me for anything.”

  “Sure,” Lucas mutters at my retreating back.

  I turn to close the door and lock it as soon as I walk into my bedroom and pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s been torture since Lucas moved back home. He’s always here watching, lurking, and sneering. Jewelry and cash have gone missing from my purse and vanity. I lock my door every night and move a chair in front of it to feel safe when I sleep. I’m continually looking over my shoulder and around corners. My insides shake all the time. I feel desperate for space. For peace. For freedom. It’s exhausting.

  The phone screen comes to life. I stare at it and think hard about the thought running through my head. After a moment, I pull up the search engine to find the phone number I need. Can I honestly do this and get away with it?

  It’s risky. Dangerous. Crazy. But they do it in the movies and television shows all the time. I don’t know if there’s a right way or wrong way, so I do what every sixteen-year-old does when they need information. I Google it.

  Peace fills me as soon as I find what I need. The seven numbers shining at me from my phone screen represent hope. My body relaxes, and the shaking calms. It’s a sign I’m doing the right thing.

  Because it’s time to take back my life. To fight for myself. I punch in the numbers with steady hands and wait for someone to answer on the other end.

  “Anonymous tip hotline, how can I help you?” A deep man’s voice comes across the line and waits for a reply.

  I sit there breathing into the phone and rethink my decision. I stare at the bulletin board on my wall filled with pictures of my friends until the knob on my door rattles.

  “Hello?” the voice on the other end says again.

  Footsteps walk away and down the hallway.

  “Hi,” I murmur into the phone. “I need to report a drug deal I know is happening tonight. Ten p.m. at 5224 Miller Road …”

  I brush my hair and pull it back when I hang up the phone and change into black pants and a black top. I wait in my room, reading off and on, until I hear Lucas’s car engine start. Then I run to my window, watch him pull out of the driveway, and stare at his taillights driving down the road until they disappear when he turns at the corner.

  The clock on my nightstand says 8:45 in bold red numbers. I slide my feet into a dark pair of flats and grab the keys to my car. I’m pushing my luck, but I can’t stop myself from going to see what happens. The person at the hotline assured me someone would check it out, and the authorities would be there. I’m drawn to the situation like a moth to a flame even though I know I could get burned worse than I ever have before.

  Tonight, I’m either taking flight and finding the freedom I seek, or I’m getting my wings clipped for good.

  I park around the corner and down the street from the party, making sure I’m in the opposite direction that Lucas should be coming. Then I climb out of my car and walk to the house on the opposite side of the street. I stick to the shadows and find a place to hide before Lucas arrives.

  I should be fine. It will all be fine.

  There’s a large bush in the front yard of the house diagonal from David’s. I climb into the flowerbed and sit behind the leaves, peeking out, and watch for Lucas’s car. I have the heebie-jeebies knowing bugs are trying to climb up my pant legs and eat me, but I sit still and fight the urge to run. This is something I need to do.

  At 9:55, Lucas’s car pulls up in front of the house across the street. He sits there with the engine running and doesn’t get out of the car. A bead of sweat trickles down my back.

  My eyes flit from his car to my watch and back again. I watch the numbers change slowly on my wrist and pray this is the moment everything changes. That this is the night I’m free from the invisible chains that bind me.

  Movement catches my attention. I watch someone walk out of the house toward Lucas’s running car. His body’s a shadow with the light from the open door behind him. The window on the driver’s side rolls down and a hand slides out, waving the person into the passenger seat.

  The glow from the overhead light illuminates Lucas’s face when the door to the car opens. My breath catches in my throat. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cash as the door closes and the light turns off again.

  It doesn’t take long. My watch says 10:03 when the door opens again. The guy steps out of the car with a smile on his face.

  “Thanks, man. Let’s do it again sometime.” Lucas’s voice floats across the street to me. The other guy waves his hand in the air, turns, and steps onto the sidewalk.

  Red and blue lights come from both sides of the street, blocking Lucas’s car in. Several officers jump out of their cars. “Police! Put your hands up!” Guns are trained on both young men. The guy on the sidewalk drops to his knees with his hands in the air. Another officer yells for Lucas to get out of the car slowly and place his hands on the hood.

  Lucas opens the car door, slides out, and stands. He turns to the cop closest to him and starts running. The policeman throws himself on top of Lucas, and they both come crashing to the ground. Arms flail. Fists fly. More police circle the scuffle and pull the two men apart, throwing Lucas onto the hood of his car.

  The officer stands there holding his arm to his chest. His hand lies at a weird angle.

  I crawl down the flowerbed to the opposite end of the house and stand in the grass as I watch the officers pat down Lucas and his friend. They pull cash and envelopes of white powder from each boy’s pockets. Handcuffs are placed around their wrists.

  Tears stream down my face as I watch them put Lucas in the back of a car and drive away, but they aren’t tears of fear or sadness. These are cleansing tears.

  Ones of hope, peace, and freedom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “I’m sorry, what?” My mother’s voice carries through the cracked door and into the hospital room where I’m currently lying. She’s out there with my dad. They’d been whispering quietly with the doctor until now.

  “I said, we’ve examined Sabra, and there are no signs of rape or sexual trauma.”

  “But why would you do that? He’s her brother.” Her voice rises with every word spoken. “I don’t understa
nd.”

  “Mrs. Valentine.” The doctor pauses for a second. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my line of work over the past twenty years. Sabra has been through more than most of us can even imagine in the past thirty-six hours. She’s going to need you both as she tries to navigate through it all.”

  Thirty-six hours. It didn’t feel like a day and a half passed in the apartment. It felt like a minute and a year all wrapped in one.

  My dad clears his throat. “Has she said anything to you about what happened in there?”

  It’s what everyone wants to know. They’re all asking the same thing. Everybody walks through the door and fires questions at me. They want me to talk out of fear, curiosity, and desperation. And yes, they care for me, but it feels like there’s more to it. There’s a need in them to know the details. But I’m not ready to give it to them. I’m not ready for any of it.

  “No, she hasn’t said a word to anyone except to ask the nurse for some water. And to ask for Trevor.” He sighs, and someone shifts their feet, but I can’t tell who it is. “I think she’s suffering from a bit of shock. We see it all the time with trauma victims. She’ll get better, but you shouldn’t expect Sabra to be normal or back to herself for quite some time. She’ll need time to heal. And that includes more than the physical ailments she walked in here with.”

  He pauses while my parents ask him a question I can’t hear. “She has a badly sprained ankle, and the knife wound in her leg was deep. She has five stitches in her leg, and we wrapped her ankle. Those things will heal quickly. The same is true for the dehydration. We’re working on all of it.”

  The salt-and-pepper haired doctor with the kind eyes steps in front of the doorway. “But she suffered more than the physical in that apartment with her brother. There are deep mental and emotional injuries at play. You will need to make plans to help her with all of it in the coming days.”

  “We understand, Dr. Davis.” My father’s low voice drifts back to me.

  I turn my head away and squeeze my eyes shut as one tear escapes and slides onto my nose. Reaching up, I catch it with the back of my hand. Lucas hurt more than me. He hurt our whole family.

  “I hope you do,” Dr. Davis replies. “This is a difficult time for all of you. I know you must be overwhelmed with all of it. Losing a child on its own is never easy, but to add all of this magnifies the questions and horror tenfold. Sabra is going to need professional counseling over the coming months. And you are going to need to prepare yourself for anything that comes out of the process. In my experience, what we see and find out in the hospital is only the beginning.”

  Footsteps echo down the hall, and I turn my head to look at the door again. I don’t want them to know any of it. I’ve done my best to protect everyone else from it for years. My thoughts and feelings spin out of control. I don’t want to discuss it—or him—ever again.

  “Hi, Trevor.” My father drops his voice as a new shadow joins them in the frosted glass window on the door. “We’re finishing up with Dr. Davis right now.”

  “How is she?” he asks.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Davis answers. “Over time, she will be fine.”

  “You should go in.” My mom’s voice cracks. “She’s been asking for you.”

  My dad’s arm goes around her and rubs her arm. I know it’s him because of his shoulders. He’s always had the broadest shoulders. Ones I’ve cried and leaned on. Ones he lifted me to stand on when I couldn’t reach.

  “Shh …. Rebecca, she’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be all right in time.”

  “But why hasn’t she asked for me? She should want me right now. I’m her mother.” Her watery voice shakes before a sob drifts through the door.

  I close my eyes and turn my head toward the window. The sounds outside the door add to the mess already inside me.

  “I’m sorry,” Trevor’s strong, steady voice rumbles over the cries. “I’m so sorry for everything that has happened, Mr. and Mrs. Valentine.”

  “You saved my daughter’s life, young man.” My father clears his throat again. “We will always be grateful to you for that.”

  “I should go check on my other patients,” Dr. Davis cuts through the conversation. “I’ll be back in a little bit to see to Sabra again.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Davis,” Trevor says. “It’s okay if I go in there now?”

  “I think it might be just what she needs right now. A friendly face might help her.” The doctor turns and walks away from the group. His shoes squeak against the linoleum with each step until the sound fades away.

  My father’s voice sounds stronger when he says, “Go see our girl, son.”

  Three knocks sound on the door. I turn away from the window and watch Trevor’s head poke through the opening with concern etched across his face. He pauses and walks over the threshold, closing the door behind him, but he doesn’t move closer to me. He stands there with his back to the door and watches me carefully. His eyes roam over every inch of my body lying under the thin sheet and scratchy blanket on this uncomfortable bed with all the buttons.

  I stare back at him and wish he would move closer to me. Reach out and hold my hand. Say anything. The silence is deafening.

  “Hey.” Trevor’s voice is soft from across the room. “How are you?” He finally—finally—takes a step in my direction and crosses to a chair next to the bed.

  Eight steps.

  He pauses next to the chair and takes a deep breath. “Can I sit with you? I’d like to be next to you and touch you.”

  My eyes widen. I nod my head at him before he sighs in relief and takes the last step to me.

  Nine steps are all it takes to get from the door to me. Nine steps to relief and peace.

  It’s not lost on me.

  He perches on the edge of the bed and reaches over, threading his fingers with mine, but he’s not close enough to me. I pull his hand until he moves farther onto the bed and lies with his head next to mine on the pillow. Tentatively, he wraps an arm around me and burrows his face in my hair, breathing deep.

  I turn in his direction and face him. Lean my forehead against his as he’s always done to me in the past. Emotions fly across his face, and I stare at them all in fascination until they stop on the one that conquers all the others.

  Fear. Peace. Horror. Joy. Confusion. Relief. Love.

  His face softens when it lands. The grip around my waist tightens. Trevor reaches up and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I missed you, Say.”

  Those four words break apart the wall that had been surrounding me—protecting me—for the past few hours. A sob rips out of my chest, and I press myself closer to him. My tears soak his shirt while he lies there and holds me, waiting for the storm to pass.

  Lying in the safety of Trevor’s arms, I don’t say a word for what feels like hours. He doesn’t move except to stroke his hand over my hair or rub my back. Even after the tears stop flowing, I don’t move away from his embrace or try to take back some space. His warmth and calm seep into my bones. The shaking inside me finally stops.

  A nurse walks into the room to check my vitals and walks right back out when she sees us lying there in the bed together. “I’ll come back later,” she whispers.

  We don’t move through any of it.

  Trevor holds me like he never wants to let me go. I have no idea how much time passes as we lie here in each other’s arms.

  “You know …” His voice breaks through the silence. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to talk about anything, I will always listen. I will always be by your side.” He hesitates. “But if you never say another word to me about any of it, I will always be here too.” He pulls back to look me in the eyes and says again, “I’m not going anywhere, Sabra.”

  “I know.” I stroke his jaw with my fingertips. “But I’m not ready to give any of it away yet. No one should have what I have.”

  It’s the first meaningful words I’ve spoken since arriving at the hospital, besides ask
ing for Trevor. He stares at me—his eyes searching mine—before he nods his head and crushes me back to his chest.

  “I’ll be here when you are,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m ready to take it from you when you’re ready to give it, Say.”

  “Thank you.” A few minutes pass before I lean back and peer into his face. “Will you tell me what happened on your end?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear everything right now? We have plenty of time. I’m perfectly happy lying here holding you.” His voice cracks, and he smiles at me. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to feel you in my arms or see those blue eyes looking at me again. We don’t have to rush through anything.”

  “No.” I push myself into a sitting position. “I can’t get the questions in my mind to stop, so this might help.”

  He sits up and moves to the chair next to my bed, grabs my hand, and squeezes it between us. “I don’t want to upset you, Sabra. I don’t want to make the wrong move here.”

  “Please. I need to know.”

  Trevor looks dubious. He holds his breath and lets it go on a loud exhale. “Tell me to stop anytime you need me to.”

  I gaze at him and wait.

  “You were gone a long time. At first, I was trying to give you some space. Micah told me she had texted you when I started to get worried, but you hadn’t replied to her. We decided we’d give you a few more minutes. If you hadn’t replied by then, I was going out to get you.” He looks at me with so much regret in his eyes. His voice catches. “You have no idea how much I wish I’d gone out there right then. I should have come to check on you earlier.”

  “You couldn’t have known, Trevor.” I rub circles on the back of his hand with my thumb and nod at him. “Go on.”

  “Micah and I waited a few more minutes. When you didn’t come back, we went out to the balcony, but you weren’t there. We looked all over the lodge for you. Checked in the different bathrooms and meeting rooms. The concierge said he’d seen you go out on the balcony, but that was the last he’d seen of you. Micah went back out on the deck while I finished talking to the concierge, and we heard a scream. She’d looked over the railing and saw your shoe lying in the pine needles. We’d missed it the first time.”