by S. J. Sylvis
My mom’s dark hair was splayed all over her face, and her arm was flung off the side of the cushion, dangling. I gently pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her body before glancing at her phone on the marble kitchen counter.
I made sure she was truly asleep before I stealthily walked over and pulled the screen open, typing in her password—my birthday, of course—and reading every last text from my father. I grunted with amusement at his name in her phone.
Asshole: I don’t understand why we can’t talk about this in person.
Mom: There is nothing to talk about.
Asshole: There is plenty to talk about. And what’s going on with Eric? He won’t return a single message of mine. I cut him off, thinking he’d come begging for money, and he hasn’t.
Mom: He’s hurt and confused. He found you having sex with his friend’s mother. Did you think he was going to forgive you, just like that?
Asshole: I think we all three need to sit down and talk.
Mom: There is nothing to talk about. Eric will forgive you in his own time. As for me? I’m in contact with a lawyer.
Asshole: This is ridiculous.
Asshole: There is no need for a lawyer. We are not getting divorced.
Asshole: Please call me back.
I didn’t even realize my chest was heaving until I felt the throbbing muscles inside working overtime. I loosened the grip I had on my mom’s phone and placed it back down onto the counter as it was before. There was a manila folder pushed off to the side, and I knew that it was probably from the lawyer.
This was the first I was hearing about a divorce. I mean, it made sense. Why would she stay married to a man like my father? It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
Divorce.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Was I relieved? Angry? Happy?
The entire time I showered, I kept trying to decipher my feelings, but I came up empty-handed. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling.
I hated my father.
I hated him for putting us in this fucked-up situation.
Fuck.
After throwing on my gray sweatpants, I leaned back in my computer chair and peered out the window.
The glow from Madeline’s window caught my attention—not that it was out of the ordinary; her light was always on. The chair moved up and down as my foot bounced on the floor below. Too many thoughts, too many questions, too many feelings.
There was way too much shit going on in my head to put up any of my usual walls when it came to Madeline tonight. Her face snuck in there, her pouty lips and high cheekbones. My earlier Internet search was like a neon sign flashing behind my eyes.
Why was she taking sleeping pills?
My leg stopped tapping up and down as I continued to stare at her window. There was no movement on the other side, no passing shadows behind the closed curtain, but her light was on, and it was like a beckoning call to me.
I sighed as I stood up and walked a little closer, peering down onto the ground below. Her mother’s car was gone. Madeline was the only one parked in the driveway. Her father wasn’t home either—no surprise there.
It was time I paid little miss Madeline a visit.
Was it a smart decision?
Probably not.
But it absolutely served as a decent distraction, and maybe it’d stop some of these nagging thoughts I couldn’t seem to escape from.
Chapter Nine
Madeline
A week from hell. That was what this week had been. A week from actual hell. Not necessarily at English Prep. I just meant in general. I’d gotten a few hours of sleep here and there—at least one hour in my World History class. Hayley Smith knocked a book off her desk seconds before the bell rang, and although she didn’t look back in my direction, I was pretty sure it was to wake me up. I couldn’t decide if she was trying to help me out or if she was being mean.
I deserved the latter, but knowing her, it was probably the former.
Headmaster Walton called me into his office a few hours after that, during lunch. Mrs. Boyd, the old, widowed secretary with her hair tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, gave me a strange look before I headed for his office. The plump man sat behind his expansive desk, and when the door latched behind me, I couldn’t help but jump in my spot. His brow furrowed, his deep wrinkles looking more like hidden caves on his face. “Madeline, have a seat, dear.”
“What is it this time?” I asked lazily, taking a seat in the leatherback chair while pretending I wasn’t bothered that I was called down in the first place. The last time I was called into his office was because someone let it slip that I had stolen Hayley’s uniform after gym one time. I had to buy her a new one. I liked to call that time in my life the I-hated-everyone phase.
I still hated everyone, but I hated me more. I supposed a rude awakening would do that to you. Trauma had a way of changing you from the inside out.
Headmaster Walton took his glasses off the bridge of his nose, resting them gently onto his desk. “I called you in here because a few of your teachers are concerned.”
I fought hard to keep my shoulders level and chin raised. Give him no reason to call your father, Madeline. “Oh? About what? My grades are superb.”
He beamed, flipping through a few papers on his messy desk. “Yes, they are. I’m sure your father is proud. I heard you got into Stanford.”
I nodded, a burning pit burrowing deep in my belly. “Yes, I did.” I had no idea if my father was proud or not. I hadn’t talked or seen him in several months. He always disappeared after a fight with mom.
“So…” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Why exactly are you falling asleep in class?”
I fall asleep one fucking time…
“It was only one time, Headmaster Walton. I stayed up too late.”
He eyed me suspiciously.
Right then, I knew I needed to get my shit together. If he called my father and raised suspicions with him, dear ol’ Daddy would come crawling back home for a weekend to check in, and that was the very last thing I wanted. And it was the last thing my mom needed.
I had to get my shit together, and the first step to doing that was sleep.
Unfortunately, it didn’t come that easy once I was home.
My back was flat against my already made bed, and I’d been like that for at least an hour or two. Something about sliding in between the mattress and blanket sent me into a panic. I didn’t want to feel trapped. I just wanted to lie here, in the brightness of my room, and breathe.
Part of me wished sleep would come. The other part was terrified out of my mind.
I tried to think of everything good and fluffy, pushing the horrendous memories to the very last edge of my brain so I could relax. It wasn’t even the actual memory that was bothering me so much; it was the nightmares. Because it was like reliving it over and over again.
If it was just one and done, maybe I’d be fine.
But no, I kept hearing the same voice every single time I closed my eyes.
It was exhausting.
The fluttering of my eyes startled me at first as I tried to hang on, but soon, I couldn’t fight it any longer. The fear and anxiety were still there, but eventually, sleep won.
The darkness was bleak when I pulled myself awake. I blinked a few times, trying to allow my eyes to adjust, but it was no use. I couldn’t see. I was pretty sure I heard the latch of my door, which was what had woken me up in the first place. I shoved the soft covers off my legs and turned my head to the red glowing numbers on my nightstand, but they were nowhere to be found. My hand reached out to find my clock, thinking it’d gotten turned somehow, but I’d hit something hard instead.
Instantly, I pulled my hand back.
“Sorry, I’m trying to be quiet,” a deep voice said.
I must have still been a little disoriented and confused from sleep, because I didn’t understand. My voice was raspy and broken. “What?”
“I’m trying to hurry. Scoot over, pretty.”
“Scoot over for what?”
Finally, I realized what was happening.
“Whoa, jackass.” Anger had me waking up pretty fast. “You’re in the wrong room. My mom’s room is two doors down.”
I huffed, flying back onto my bed with a whoosh. The room wasn’t as dark as before, my eyes now well-adjusted to the abyss. My mom had some fucking nerve. It was only a few days ago that Eric had found his father fucking her. She had been ashamed. She even apologized to me, saying sorry for having sex with my friend’s dad. She didn’t know we weren’t friends anymore, but that was beside the point. Here she was, already beckoning a new guy into her life temporarily to keep my father’s side of the bed warm until he deemed to show his face again. I never wanted to be like her. Ever. Which was why I had just mouthed off to a man I didn’t know.
There was no way I would ever let a man treat me the way she lets them treat her.
It was why I was always in charge, making others fall to their knees at my wake.
“I know where your mother’s room is, sweetheart.”
My eyes flew back open, my back still turned to the man standing beside my bed. I felt a small trickle of anxiety prickling my neck, but I ignored it and slowly rolled back over.
“Then get the fuck out of my room.” My tone was calm but sharp. I was looking at his silhouette as he loomed over me, trying to make out his features. An outside light from my window—probably Eric’s headlights—shined through long enough that I could get a quick look at him. He was older—much older than me—with short, dark hair. His jaw was angled with a slight scruff on it. I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but the way his features were drawn tight told me that he didn’t care for my tone—at all.
“Don’t you want to know how it feels to be with a man?”
My heart flew to an unhealthy speed.
Before I could say anything else, his hand clamped down onto my mouth fast and hard. My eyes grew wide. For a moment, I just lay there. Stunned. He took me by surprise.
I was never surprised. I was in control of every situation I was ever in, unless it came to my father, but that was a whole different ball game.
But so was this.
Finally, I regained my courage, and the anger came flying back. How dare he touch something that wasn’t his? My hands flung up, and I clawed at his skin, trying to pry away his fingers that were squeezing the life out of my face.
This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening.
When the man hooked a leg over mine and straddled my body, the fight inside of me left. Tears flung to my eyes. Wait. Why wasn’t I still fighting?
It was karma. I’d made one too many bad choices. Said one too many evil things. I was getting what I deserved.
Why was I not fighting back? Why was this happening?
Knee him in the fucking dick, Maddie!
The last voice had me wavering. Eric? Why was Eric here? That was not how this memory went. I knew what happened next, and it was enough to make my entire body go into shock.
My eyes flew open as I gasped for air. I pushed away the covers that weren’t even there and flipped over onto my stomach, falling to the ground with a thud. Pain radiated to my hip, despite the soft carpet below, and I jolted to my feet before running to my bedroom door. My hand hit the cold metal doorknob, and I twisted it no less than five times, making sure it was locked. Sweat trickled down the side of my face as I turned around to grab the computer chair to push up against the door for extra caution, but I screamed instead.
My hand flew up to cover my mouth as I stood there, all sweaty and panting, looking at Eric who was sitting in my chair in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants with a book propped in his hand. His dark hair was damp, not moving an inch when he sliced his dark eyes my way.
“Have a nightmare, Maddie?”
My eyes closed tightly. I’m still in a fucking nightmare, Eric.
Chapter Ten
Eric
Madeline’s front door was locked, but being her neighbor for many years taught me where the spare key was. I moved the potted plant to the far left of the front door and found it within a second. I chuckled under my breath as I opened her door quickly, noting there was no alarm.
The entire house was dark. Madeline’s mother was long gone. And her father? Well, who the fuck knew where he was.
As I climbed the steps one by one, remembering the last time I’d done just that, I stopped in front of her bedroom and listened for a moment.
Nothing. I didn’t hear a single peep. A wicked part of me wondered if Madeline was in the shower, and I gave myself three seconds to imagine her wet and naked before I pushed those thoughts away and remembered that I hated her and her pretty face.
Should I knock?
No. I’d rather barge in and catch her off guard. As soon as I turned the doorknob, the question about her pill usage on the very tip of my tongue, my shoulders slumped.
Locked?
The disappointment was there, and it was loud.
I was disappointed because I wasn’t going to see her, and that didn’t sit well with me. I needed to turn around and go back home. I could find a distraction elsewhere. It was really fucking low of me to come here anyway. Nothing good was going to come from it.
I hated her.
And even if I didn’t, nothing beneficial was going to arise from digging into her life. Madeline had her own shit to deal with, and there was no fucking way I was going to help her with it.
She pushed me away a long, long time ago. I needed to accept that—regardless if she was no longer dating my best friend.
My head snapped to the sound of a door opening downstairs. Fuck. A woman's laugh echoed through the house and carried itself to my ears.
Her tone was disgustingly flirty. “Shh. My daughter is probably asleep. We need to be quiet.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Don’t get this twisted. I didn’t really care if Madeline’s mom saw me in their house or not. I just didn’t want to see her. If you thought Madeline’s face pissed me off, what do you think her mother’s did?
So, instead of plunging myself into an even deeper pool of hate, I slipped into the room right beside Madeline’s and shut the door quietly. It only took a few seconds to realize I was in Madeline’s bathroom and another few after that for two voices to float on by. I rested on top of the vanity quietly, eyeing all the makeup splayed on the counter as I weighed my options and argued with myself about whether or not I should leave. I picked up one of her lipsticks and twirled it around in my hand, snickering at the name on the bottom: Pretty Liar. How fitting. I set the lipstick back down and continued glancing at the door opposite of the one I came through. Did that lead to Madeline’s room?
A little wickedness seeped into my blood as I hopped to the floor and walked over to the other door. I ignored my pleas to go home as I opened it quickly, prepared to scare the hell out of her with the menacing grin on my face, but I wavered for a moment when I saw her lying on her bed.
The fancy, glittering chandelier above her was glowing brightly, as was a small light on the edge of her desk. In the far corner of her room, there was a standing lamp that was on too.
Strange.
I wasn’t sure of my next move, but I found myself walking over to her pink computer chair and relaxing back in it, crossing my ankles in front of me. My gaze danced around the room as I took in her decor, stunned with confusion.
This was nothing like her.
Madeline was bold and bitchy. A little dark and sadistic at times. But her room was the complete opposite. My arms fell to my thighs as I looked up at the sparkling chandelier again, and then over to the sheer white curtains draped to the floor. Her walls were light pink, and her fluffy carpet was a shade away from white. A few teddy bears were propped up against a fur rug in the corner of her room, near the standing lamp, and there were stacks and stacks of books all over the place. A few of them were e
ven flipped open. Everything, and I meant everything, in her bedroom was soft and feminine. Almost angelic. It was like seeing something forbidden. Like a villain stepping into a fairytale ending. It felt wrong to see her in a space that was probably more her than she ever wanted people to see.
I swiveled the computer chair around, grabbing a book off her desk that was stuck on page 127, and turned back to face her bed.
My eyes were just beginning to scan the pages, realizing it was some romance book, when I heard a whimpering noise. Oh perfect. She was waking up. I couldn’t wait to see her face when she found me sitting here, all nonchalantly.
Another moan came from her, and I couldn’t help the laugh that was bubbling up in my throat. Was she having a wet dream? I would never, ever let her live this down. It was more ammunition for torture. This was fucking gold.
I began to grin as I continued watching her, but my smile slowly crumbled as Madeline started to kick her legs, whimpering even louder. Her blonde hair was tangled around her face, little crinkles appearing around her clenched eyes.
The book fell to my lap as I sat up a little taller. My brow furrowed as her head snapped back and forth. Her voice sounded far away, pained even, when she mumbled, “No. No.”
Something about the way she said the word caused my fists to clench. My chest felt like it was caving in on itself, almost making it hard to breathe.
“No. Don’t touch me!”
The chair creaked as I went to stand so I could wake her. This was wrong. This was no longer fun.
Was she crying?
Madeline’s legs started to kick back and forth. She was clearly trying to get away from something. My mind was going a million miles a second. I could tell myself I hated her. I could remind myself of every last mean thing she’d ever done. But there was nothing that was going to make my heart stop beating like I was seconds from falling off a cliff. I’ll admit, I enjoyed bullying her a little. I liked seeing her face fall when I reminded her how much I hated her.