“Good. Very good.” Dr Bradshaw’s voice called to me, reminding me to be present. “What are the names of your siblings?”
“Emmanuel, Brock, Beth, Parker, and Nikki.”
“Are you with me?”
I nodded even as I panted to try to bring my breathing back under control.
“I think that’s enough time in the past for this week. Why don’t you tell me three good things that happened to you this week?”
I didn’t know how to answer her. Good didn’t exist in my life anymore. The best I could hope for was not completely awful. And there hadn’t even been too many days like that lately.
When I couldn’t find anything, I looked down at my hands. Finally, one thing came to me. “I haven’t given up yet.”
It was barely something to celebrate, but she still nodded and let me include it in my good.
“Dad gets home from Darwin tonight.” Between Mum and Dad, it was easier for me to talk to Dad. There were so many reasons why. The easiest to acknowledge was he’d been the one to carry me out of the darkness. Every little girl dreams that her daddy is her hero. Mine literally was. Together with Beau, he’d lifted me out of the pit Xavier had thrown me into.
Plus, Dad didn’t try to make me talk. He didn’t try to draw me out of my shell. We could sit in silence and let the heaviness surround us both without needing to fix me.
“And?”
“And that’s all I’ve got,” I snapped. “That’s the peak of the good in my life right now.”
“Your birthday is coming up. Surely that’s a positive.”
I curled in on myself and refused to look at her.
“No?”
The silence was deafening, filling my ears and swirling through my head. The worst part was that it would stretch onward until I spoke.
“I met Beau on my birthday last year,” I admitted. Sometimes I was certain my mutterings were far too low and rushed to be heard, and yet Dr Bradshaw seemed to hear them all. Nothing went unheard within these four walls.
“Have you given further thought to contacting him? At least for closure for you both.”
“And say what exactly?” I threw myself off the couch and stalked to her window. I stared down at the busy road below. So many people rushing around, all hiding secrets and deceptions. Somewhere, hidden beneath the earth, there were probably others in situations like the one I’d been in. How many cars contained people who didn’t want to be in them? How many people bore scars that would never heal because of the evil in another’s heart?
“What would you want to tell him, if he was here right now and you could find the words?”
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because of the choices I made. The ones that put me in that place. Because of what I did while I was in there. Beau doesn’t deserve someone who does those things.”
She came to stand beside me and I stood upright. The first few times she’d done this during our sessions, I’d flinched, as I expected her to reach out with a comforting touch. Now, like then, she crossed her arms loosely over her stomach, tucking her fingers into the crook of the opposite elbow. A sign she would be keeping her hands to herself.
It was part of the reason I felt comfortable in her office in a way I didn’t most other places. She understood. In ways that no one else ever could, she knew the thoughts in my head. She knew that a natural, comforting touch was a new form of torture for me. She was a specialist in domestic violence and sexual assault victims, so was adept at dealing with a range of issues and the varying ways people like me coped. It was the reason Dad’s old shrink had recommended her so highly when Dad had asked his opinion on psychiatrists in our area.
“You can only be responsible for your own actions, Phoebe. You couldn’t have expected the outcomes that happened. I’m sure Beau understands that. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you.”
“But he doesn’t know the worst of it. He’s better off just forgetting about me. I’m sure he already has anyway.”
“Do you really believe that? After everything the two of you went through?” I hadn’t told her it all, but I’d told her enough for her to use it against me at times like this.
I wrapped my arms around myself and leant my head against the glass wall as my tears started to fall. “I have to. It’s the only way I can find any peace.”
WHEN WE ARRIVED home from the session, I left Mum to deal with Nikki and headed straight out to the four-bay shed that filled one side of our property. It was the one place I could lose myself completely, and after telling Dr Bradshaw about the way I’d fought for my life—and ended Xavier’s in the process—I needed to lose myself.
The first time I’d found my way to the shed after coming home, I’d torn apart the engine in Dad’s Mustang. He’d almost cried when he saw all the pieces of the motor spread out across the floor. Especially when he found me in a sobbing heap in the corner because I couldn’t find a particular wrench. Together, we’d pieced it back together. Although I could have done it alone, it was quicker with Dad’s help. It also gave us a chance to not talk about what had happened. It was just back to daddy and daughter, playing together in the shed. The way things used to be.
To avoid me pulling his engine apart in frustration again, Mum and Dad found me a broken down Datsun 120Y. I could strip and rebuild the engine to my heart’s content and not have to worry about causing anyone any grief. That had been my intended target when I’d come to the shed, but something else drew my eye.
In one corner of the shed, hidden under a tarp, was the bike Uncle Flynn had restored for me. The one I’d driven across the States during my holiday. She used to be my freedom—the open road and speed my therapy. But that was before I knew the real dangers in the world. Before I’d seen true horror. I hadn’t ridden her since I’d arrived home. Even glancing in that direction usually sent shivers up my spine.
It was around a year ago that I’d first laid my hands on her. She’d been in poor shape then, and I’d worked over the engine to the point where she ran perfectly. Then when she arrived in Australia, Flynn overhauled her body. No doubt she was in decline again—rotting away from disuse and atrophy.
With my breath lodged in my throat, I lifted the tarp and took in the grape-coloured bodywork. The leather still shone slightly, although it was dimmed by a layer of dust. I ran my hand over the seat, and as I did flashes of my first night with Beau ran through my head.
I’d left a bar with a stranger, and it had been safer than inviting a friend in for a chat.
My fingers went from the seat to my lips as I recalled Beau’s kisses that night. There were days when I missed him so badly. Days when I could barely breathe around the ache in my chest caused by his absence. But I couldn’t even talk to my best friend without physically fighting her, so how could I even try to bridge the divide between Beau and me? The one that was my doing because I’d pushed him away.
Dr Bradshaw’s words rang in my ears. Maybe I should call him. If only for closure. Even if I could though, what would I say? I couldn’t exactly start with the worst and go from there, but how could I say anything without letting him know what my stupid mouth had cost him—cost us both.
He wouldn’t want to talk to me anyway. I was broken. Damaged goods. The things I’d seen. The things I’d done.
How could I ever expect him to forgive me for any of them when I couldn’t even forgive myself?
I curled into a ball and leant against the bike. With my face pressed against my knees, I started crying again. I was going to single-handedly break the drought in Queensland if I didn’t stop losing it at every turn, but I didn’t know how to plumb the pieces left inside me back together so they didn’t leak anymore. There were no gasket kits for a broken heart.
“PHEEBS?” IT was Dad’s voice that called to me. Obviously, he’d come home already. I wondered if they’d already done the homecoming celebrations—without me
. I was an outsider to the family I loved, separated by the invisible veils I had to wear to keep myself as sane as possible. “Are you in here, kiddo?”
My reply was a sob.
He turned on the overheads, and the click of the fluorescents—the humming sound that followed—was like torture for my ears. I never came here at night. The sound was one that preceded pain. The darkness had been my saviour, wrapping around me and leaving me in peace. The light had brought Bee and his closet full of torture devices. It’d brought Cora and her beauty regime. It’d brought Xavier and his proposals and dates.
I didn’t even realise Dad had found me until I opened my eyes only to meet his concerned turquoise gaze. Seafoam, Beau had called mine. I understood why as I watched the green and blue in Dad’s eyes dance across the colour spectrum as he met my gaze. From blue to green and back again as his emotions warred and no doubt left him ravaged.
“Dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?”
I shook my head. A table full of arms and elbows, stray hands and gentle touches. It was a nightmare waiting to happen. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat with them all for a meal, preferring to eat alone in my room.
“Mum was worried about you. She said you had a particularly bad attack today.”
I nodded. “I—I was killing him. His blood was all over me.” The words were shaky as they fought free. It was possible to say those words to Dad because he’d been the one to find me through the blood. Him and Beau.
“You’re safe—” He didn’t even get the words out fully before I clambered away from him, knocking into the bike and dislodging the kickstand. Dad tugged me out of the way as the bike went crashing to the floor. I screamed at the hold and tried to pull away.
Dad’s hands released me, and he held them out with his palms facing me, no doubt trying to prove he wasn’t a threat. Logically, I knew that.
Emotionally—physically—I had no control.
In that respect, I was as raw and bleeding as the day he’d found me.
I met his gaze again and the worry was gone. In its place: heartbreak.
I was hurting him. I was hurting Mum. And there was nothing I could do to save them.
It really would’ve been better if I’d let Xavier finish his task.
TWO DAYS LATER, Dad announced he had a surprise for me. He made me dress and warned me we’d be going somewhere different. Somewhere I could be me again. I had no idea what he meant by his cryptic clue and didn’t want to go along with him. But when he and Mum begged, and told me they’d already arranged a babysitter for Nikki, I relented.
It didn’t take me long to work out exactly where we were going. Not when we passed one too many familiar signs.
“Are you sure about this?” I questioned as we flashed by another sign that pointed the way to Ipswich. To Queensland Raceway. “I don’t know if I can get behind the wheel.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, honey.” Mum turned around to speak, not even trying to convince me I might have been wrong about what they had planned for me. “But we think it’s worth at least sitting in your old car again. Don’t you? Who knows, you might enjoy being in control again.”
She might have been talking about the car, but I could tell she meant in general.
“Even if it’s just for a few laps,” she added as she turned back around to the front and wrapped her arm around herself.
“I’ll try.” It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a link to my old life. Something that didn’t rely on me talking to anyone else. People were unpredictable. Cars, you could rely on.
“That’s all we’re ever going to ask you to do, Pheebs.” Dad shifted in his seat so he could meet my eyes in the rear-view mirror. He gave me one of his lopsided grins before settling back into his seat.
It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix a thing. And yet, for my parents I was willing to try. I owed them that much at least.
A little over half an hour later, after a minor panic attack in the bathroom, I headed for the track. For the car. Sliding behind the wheel should have felt like coming home, but it didn’t.
Not this time.
It felt like struggling to breathe in the middle of the night.
Like losing the last bit of hope and giving up.
The HANS device and helmet were so tight—constricting—I wanted to tear them off and fight for freedom. They were the bag over my head so I couldn’t see what direction Bee would attack me from.
Dad crouched beside the door, talking to me through the mesh. It took a moment to focus on his words.
“This. Here. This is where you can get back your power. This is where you can find the control you need. The car will do what you tell her to. You know this. You’ve got this.”
I nodded and my fingers flexed around the steering wheel. It had been so long since I’d been in control. Of anything. Let alone such a high-powered vehicle. Still, Dad was right. This, I knew. This was predictable, especially with no one else on the track.
My limbs found their positions without any effort on my part. It was as easy as breathing. Easier, considering how often panic attacks had stolen my breath away. When my foot brushed the accelerator, the noise that filled the air was sweet music. That tune, I understood. Dad tapped on the roof and walked back to Mum’s side.
I eased her out onto the track. It wasn’t going to earn me any trophies, but it did give me a new focus.
But how long can it last?
“Are you sure about this?” I asked Dad via the comms. It was an older car, well into retirement, but that didn’t mean she deserved to be smashed into a wall at high speed when I lost control.
“I’m positive. Just take your ti—take it easy.”
I flinched and tears welled in my eyes as Dad stumbled over his words to avoid triggering a panic spiral while I was out on the track. If it didn’t feel so pathetic, it might have been laughable how simple phrases like “take your time” and even “I love you” could send me straight back into that concrete prison. To my personal hell. No matter how many times Dr Bradshaw had talked about coping strategies, or how many times we’d gone over what I’d been through, I was still broken. I couldn’t see a way to be fixed. I might never be.
“Go as fast or slow as you like.”
Breathing through my nose and focusing on that simple action rather than everything else around me, I pushed the car a little harder. My foot danced between the accelerator and the brake as I tried to decide whether to push harder or stop entirely.
The car groaned under the low revs, whining for attention—screaming for me to push her as hard as I could. I eased down on the accelerator a little more, and her whining stopped. The growl built slowly, roaring louder around me as my foot pushed further to the floor.
My hands performed the steps they knew intimately, dancing through the gears as if it’d been days and not months since I’d last practised the steps.
On my next lap, more things became clear. It wasn’t just the pedals, steering wheel, gears, and me. It was the car, the wheels, the track. Everything working in harmony the way it was supposed to.
I saw Mum and Dad standing in pit lane. Their hands were firmly interlinked and the tension in their bodies clear by their stiffened backs and fierce stares.
There was someone else in the stands, but it was too hard to make out who with the speed I was travelling. Maybe it was Uncle Flynn. He’d want to be there for me for this sort of thing—even if I had frozen him out as effectively as every other person in my life.
Whoever it was stood and watched me pass. His arms rose in a celebratory action.
The build was wrong for Uncle Flynn. I tried to get another look in my rear-view mirror, but I couldn’t see. I focused on getting back around for another look, tossing the car down a gear to get a bit more power.
Dad said something, but I couldn’t focus on his words. They’d just be encouragements for the way I was working the car. I hadn’t even made it three quart
ers of the way back around before I realised what I was doing—I was almost at race speed. Just a little more effort and I could have probably clocked a competitive lap.
It felt right.
I felt powerful.
For the first time since Xavier had taken me, I was free. A smile crept across my lips. I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be the end of my issues. The nightmares might never stop, but it was the breakthrough I’d needed. Something I’d longed for without even realising it.
Not for the first time, I thought about telling Beau . . .
I gasped as my lungs closed and my stomach fell. I couldn’t tell Beau because I still couldn’t face him. There were so many reasons, but top of the list was that I was no longer the girl he’d fallen in love with. He deserved her. He didn’t deserve the broken shell I’d become.
She’d been strong and snarky, and would have kept . . .
She would never have . . .
I slammed both feet on the brake and skidded to a halt.
Why had I thought I could do this?
Why had I let Mum and Dad convince me to get back behind the wheel?
The car stopped just before hitting the wall, the nose pointed straight at the stands. With one glance, it was crystal clear who was there watching me. I wanted to reverse away from the chocolate and amber eyes I knew so well.
What the fuck was he doing here?
Even though it was impossible through the windscreen and car surrounding me, I could have sworn he stared straight into my eyes. With a frown, he sank back onto the seats behind him. He bowed his head and wrung his hands together, but all I could do was stare at him.
“Pheebs, are you okay?” Dad asked.
“Uh, yeah, I’m coming back in now though.” I couldn’t trust myself out in the car any longer. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to again. I had no idea where that would leave me or my career, but that was the least of my concerns. More concerning was just getting up every morning.
Physis (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #4) Page 3