Unbroken

by A. J. Matthews

  “I’m sure,” he said. The knuckles of his hand were white because of the grip he had on the armrests of the chair. “How’s Trista doing? You talk to her?”

  Feeling suddenly guilty about falling asleep on the couch, Kiera shook her head and said, “No. She hasn’t been down all day.”

  Nate started to say something but obviously thought better of it and just shook his head as he got up from the chair. Without another word, he went upstairs. A moment later, Kiera heard him knock on Trista’s door.

  “Mind if I come in?” he said.

  His voice almost didn’t carry downstairs, and Kiera couldn’t make out what Trista said in reply. But she heard the bedroom door open and shut. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, she just sat there on the couch, listening to the buzzing of their voices upstairs. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but every now and then the conversation was punctuated by loud sobs as Trista cried.

  Why can’t I go up there, too? she wondered, feeling frantic and helpless.

  She wanted to believe she was wrong, but she didn’t feel welcome. She didn’t belong up there with them, sharing their daughter’s grief, and she was convinced there was nothing she could do or say to get any closer to her husband or her daughter. Whatever was missing from their lives, whether she was imagining it or not, it had taken a terrible toll on both her and her family.

  Even worse, a voice hissed inside her head. It’s only going to get worse.

  4

  “It’s late. Where’ve you been?” Kiera asked sleepily. She rolled over in bed and blinked when a sudden burst of light filled the bedroom.

  “Just out,” Nate said.

  Kiera heard his voice slur and knew he’d been drinking. She was still disoriented after being awakened so suddenly and watched as Nate staggered into the bathroom that adjoined their bedroom. She listened as he urinated, a long, noisy stream, and then flushed. Without bothering to brush his teeth, he came over to the bed, peeling off his clothes as he came. He almost lost his balance and had to hop a few times when he was taking off his pants, but he made it to the bed and sat down heavily before kicking his pants free.

  “You’re loaded,” Kiera said, feeling more sadness than anger. This was one more thing that highlighted the distance between them, and she wondered if she’d ever get used to feeling so alone.

  “Umm . . . So?” Nate said, exhaling noisily as he peeled his shirt off and threw it onto the floor. Wearing nothing but boxer shorts, he collapsed back onto the bed and let out a belch. Kiera caught the sour stench of beer on his breath and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “So how was the memorial?” she asked. She wished she could feel as though they could still communicate the way they used to, but she was convinced they both had become different people from the people they were.

  “How do you think? . . . It sucked.” He belched again. “What were you doing there?”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “Were you following me?”

  Kiera looked at him and shook her head.

  “No. I never left the house.”

  “You sure?” He slurred the words. “I could’ve sworn I saw your car in the parking lot.”

  “I swear to God, it wasn’t me,” Kiera said, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she froze.

  But what if it was me? . . . What if I drove down to the high school to check up on him because I don’t trust him? . . . What if I did it and don’t even remember doing it?

  Nate hadn’t turned off the bedroom light, so Kiera reached out and flipped the switch, plunging the room back into darkness. She felt safer in the darkness, but she knew he was too drunk to know what she was thinking or feeling.

  “It must have been difficult. Tell me about it,” she said as she settled down with her back to him. “It’s not like you to get so drunk.”

  Nate grunted but said nothing. For a long time, he lay there, breathing heavily in the darkness. Kiera thought he must have fallen asleep or else passed out, and she felt a surge of resentment. She had been sound asleep, but now she was wide-awake, so she lay there, staring into the darkness and wondering what was going on.

  It wasn’t like him to get drunk like this, but he might be just as aware as she was that their relationship was heading toward a brick wall.

  “Nate?” she whispered, poking him with her elbow.

  Nate groaned and snorted, then let out a loud fart, but he didn’t move. Kiera thought he might be awake and faking being asleep because he didn’t want to talk. Maybe he was afraid he’d end up confessing that he’d been having an affair with Teresa Burroughs . . . or Katie.

  The bitterness of that thought made her throat burn. She couldn’t take a deep enough breath, and her chest ached.

  “Nate,” she said, a little louder. “We have to talk.”

  “Talk . . . ’bout what?” His voice was thick and slurred.

  Kiera shifted around so she was facing him and leaned on her elbow. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see the rounded contours of his body beneath the covers. She wanted so much to reach out and touch him, caress him like she used to, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of touching him, and that only made her sadder.

  “Maybe we could start with why you decided to get so drunk tonight.”

  Nate let out a blubbering sigh that filled her nose with the sour smell of beer.

  “It just . . . happened,” he said, sounding a little impatient. “I was . . . The memorial was tough, so I went out for a few.”

  “More than a few.”

  “Aw right. More than a few. What’s the big deal?”

  “Besides driving drunk, you mean?” Kiera sighed, not liking the direction this was taking. “Why did you do it? What’s really bothering you?”

  For a long time, Nate didn’t say anything.

  In that time, Kiera thought of dozens of things she could say. She knew she should tell him that she was afraid their marriage was in jeopardy, that they had nothing holding them together except their daughter. She wanted to tell him that she could see her whole life crumbling down around her and that she was afraid she was losing her mind, that she felt alone and deserted and wasn’t sure she even wanted to live with him and Trista anymore.

  Or maybe she should tell him what was at the bottom of it all, that her guilt about what had happened nearly thirty years ago to Billy Carroll—what she had and hadn’t done that night—was eating away her sanity.

  “Nate . . .” she said, her voice choking as tears filled her eyes.

  The atmosphere in the room seemed to change abruptly. Kiera sensed rather than saw vague figures, shifting in and out of sight in the darkness. If she hadn’t been crying, if she could see clearly, she was sure she would be able to see Billy Carroll standing at the foot of their bed, glaring at her with cold, dead eyes.

  “You saw him kill me . . . and you didn’t tell anyone!”

  Kiera covered her mouth with her clenched fist to stifle the scream building up inside her. The feeling that someone was in the room was so strong it became a burning pressure inside her chest . . . a pressure that was going to burst out of her no matter how hard she tried to contain it.

  “Can we talk about this in the morning? I hav’ta sleep.” Nate’s voice sounded cold and cruel. “Would you please lemme sleep?”

  The rush of panic inside Kiera didn’t diminish. She listened to the rapid hammering of her pulse in her ears. The skin on the back of her neck was tingling, and her breath came in short, burning gasps.

  “No,” she said, almost a whimper, but then, as clearly as if the person was in the room with them, a voice said, “You know it wasn’t an accident! . . . You know he did it on purpose!”

  Kiera thought she recognized Billy Carroll’s voice, and no matter how much she wanted to believe it was all in her head, she suddenly realized that it didn’t matter whether she imagined it or not . . . It didn’t matter whether the voice was
real or not . . . what it was saying was painfully true, and that’s what she had to face.

  That night by the river, Jon hadn’t stepped on the accelerator by mistake. He had done it on purpose. He had gripped the steering wheel with both hands and aimed the car right at Billy because he wanted him dead. He wanted to kill him. All these years, she had denied the truth, and that’s why Billy’s ghost—real or not—was haunting her.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” she whispered in a strangled voice.

  She was lost in misery as she lay there in the dark, listening to the heavy pounding inside her head. Darkness swirled around her, closing in, squeezing tighter and tighter until she could hardly breathe. Vague, vaporous shapes drifted around the bed, looming in close and then receding, fading away whenever she looked directly at them.

  “Can’t take what?”

  Nate spoke so suddenly Kiera wondered if he had spoken at all, or if it was in her head. She shivered as she sucked in a shallow breath, but she couldn’t speak.

  “You don’t believe me? ’S that what you’re saying?”

  Nate spoke louder now, and Kiera caught the hostile edge in it.

  “You really wanna know why I got drunk?”

  The bed creaked as he rolled over to face her. His eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural light in the surrounding darkness.

  “I got drunk tonight because I realized something about myself . . . and about us.”

  Oh, Jesus, Kiera thought, bracing herself. Here it comes! . . . I’m not ready for this . . . Not now.

  Nate sat up suddenly, tossing the bedcovers aside. He got out of bed and started pacing back and forth. Kiera cringed, afraid he was going to lash out at her and hit her, but he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. She sat up in bed, pulling her arms and legs protectively to her chest.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t do this.” She wasn’t even sure if he heard her. “Don’t say anything we’ll regret. You’ve been drinking, and you—”

  “Well, one of us has to say it, goddamn it!” Nate’s voice was still slurred, but it was loud enough to fill the room. “One of us has to admit that this is it . . . our marriage is down the shitter.”

  “Please, Nate.”

  “Jesus, Kiera! Don’t be such a fool! You know it and I know it! It’s just not there anymore. And do you wanna know what I was gonna do? Do you?”

  “Please, Nate. Come back to bed. We can talk about it in the morning when we’re both feeling better.”

  “No, goddamn it! We’re gonna talk about it now! You wanna know why I got drunk.” He took a rasping breath. “I got drunk because for the past several months all I’ve been thinking about is how I could get the fuck out of here . . . out of this marriage.”

  Kiera was crying as she shook her head from side to side. She shrank back as his words slammed into her like sledgehammers. His body was a huge, dark silhouette that loomed threateningly in the darkness. All she could think was that he was going to lose control and hurt her. The rage coming out of him so suddenly was terrifying.

  “Stop it. Please. You’ll wake up Trista. She’s got enough to deal with.”

  Somehow, her words got through to Nate. He stopped pacing and let out a long, groaning sigh as he sat down on the foot of the bed and hunched over.

  “We have to be honest with each other,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “Even now . . . ’specially now we have to be honest.”

  “I know,” Kiera said, fighting the impulse to reach out to assure him. This wasn’t how she had imagined it would happen, but—finally—it was out there.

  “There’s something else I have to tell you.”

  Oh, God, Kiera thought. It felt like a cold spike had just pierced her heart. Here it comes.

  “That girl who died . . . ?” Nate said, his voice hushed now. All the anger had drained away. “Katie Burroughs. I was—”

  “No,” Kiera suddenly shouted, cutting him off. “Don’t say it.” In a quick, fluid motion, she got out of the bed and headed for the door. “I’ll sleep downstairs. We can talk about this in the morning when we’re both more rational.”

  “Kiera. Wait. It’s not what you—”

  But whatever he was going to say was cut off when she stepped out into the hall and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her.

  “Don’t you dare come downstairs! I don’t even want to see you right now!”

  She clenched her fist and pounded it against the door so hard it hurt. Clutching her hand to her chest, she turned and ran downstairs to the living room, sobbing like a wounded animal. She threw herself onto the couch, feeling so full of rage and hurt she couldn’t think straight. All she knew for sure was, if Nate had been about to confess that he had a crush on a high school girl, that he’d been screwing someone their daughter’s age, she couldn’t stand to be in the same house with him.

  “I should leave . . . right now,” she whispered heatedly. “I should go back upstairs. Get dressed. Grab a few things, and leave!”

  The house was unnaturally quiet. The only light in the living room was the streetlight that filtered in from outside. Kiera trembled as she cowered on the couch, convinced Trista had heard them but was too afraid to let them know. It wasn’t like this was the first time. Kiera had no idea what to do. Should she try to talk to Trista . . . or run screaming from the house . . . or bury her head under a pile of pillows and blankets and wish she could just die? Maybe she should go back upstairs, confront Nate, and tell him he was absolutely right. Their marriage had been a sham from the start, and she had never trusted him. All they had to do now was face up to it and get a divorce.

  Because the truth was, she did want out of the marriage, and tonight she had finally reached the point where she could admit it to herself. It had nothing to do with Liz’s murder, her operation, Robbie’s death, or even Billy Carroll’s death. It had everything to do with the fact that if there had ever been any genuine love and affection between them, it was gone now.

  Kiera was paralyzed. As much as she wanted to do something right now to resolve things, she knew she had to calm down so she could think things through. She let out a shrill shriek and jumped off the couch when the telephone suddenly rang. For a blinding second, she couldn’t believe it had actually rung, but before it rang again, she picked up the receiver and pressed it to her ear.

  “Hello?” she whispered, hearing the heavy sound of her breathing through the receiver. She waited for a reply, but when it came, it was so faint she couldn’t make it out. It almost sounded like an echo of her own voice when it said, “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” Kiera said, struggling to keep her voice down so Nate and Trista wouldn’t hear.

  Again, the only sound was an echo of her voice, saying, “Who is this?”

  Convinced the line was dead and she was just talking to herself, she was about to hang up when a woman’s voice said, “I have to talk to you.”

  Kiera froze, her heart suddenly heaving in her chest. Even though the voice was distorted, it sounded exactly like her own. She had a quick but sharp impression that she was someplace else, talking to someone—a stranger who was sitting on the couch in her living room. She suddenly snapped back and, swallowing hard, said, “Tell me where and when.”

  For several heartbeats, there was no reply. Then the voice came, even fainter. “Oh, you know where.” After a short pause, the voice said, “Go there right now. It’s the only way I can get through.”

  There was a soft click, and then the high-pitched buzzing of the dial tone.

  Kiera’s heart was racing in her throat. She found it all but impossible to take a breath as a sheen of sweat broke out across her face. Her hands felt clammy as she slowly, mechanically replaced the phone on its base and then raised them to touch the bandage on her forehead.

  Even if the voice wasn’t real, she knew what she had to do.

  A chill wound slowly through her body. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to get up off the couch, much less get dressed and
drive out to where she knew she had to go, but she had to find it.

  “She said to go there now,” she whispered harshly, trying to bolster her courage, even though she was left with the impression she had been talking to herself on the phone.

  Kiera slowly got up off the couch and, moving like she was in a dream, went back upstairs to the bedroom. Nate was already asleep—or else passed out—and snoring loudly.

  Thank God, she thought as she turned on a light and for several seconds just stood there, staring at him. Bitterness and hurt filled her, but when she tiptoed over to the closet, she knew she was doing the right thing by leaving him tonight—maybe forever.

  She grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then took a pair of socks from her bureau drawer and got dressed. Without a backward glance, she walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her, and went downstairs. She put on her sneakers, then grabbed her jacket, purse, and car keys, and walked out to the garage before the faint voice in her head could tell her to turn around and go back.

  As frightened as she was, she had to follow through with this, even if she had imagined it all. If nothing else, she needed to get out of the house and get away from Nate so she could clear her head. There was no way she was going back upstairs and getting back into bed as if none of this had happened.

  And maybe, she thought, a drive out to the river is just what I need.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mirror Image

  1

  I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

  A disturbing sense of unreality gripped Kiera as she drove through downtown Stratford, heading out to River Road. It was well past two o’clock in the morning, and most of the houses and businesses were dark except for a couple of homes where the blue-green flicker of some insomniac’s television lit up the night. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of the lives being lived in those houses were as sad and confused as hers.

  Stop it with the self-pity, she chided herself time and again, but she couldn’t let it go. When is a good time for self-pity if not now?