Trish sat in the same chair from earlier, but this time scooted it closer to the couch. She took a sip of her tea before she spoke. “Kingsley, I heard the argument.” She grasped my hand and began gently rubbing it. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
I looked into her eyes, wanting so badly to open up. Between Wren wanting me to express my feelings and Trish wanting me to reveal everything, I was beginning to feel smothered.
“Wren asked me to go to the Hamptons with him,” I admitted.
Her composed expression swiftly changed into a full-on smile. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and joining me on the couch. “That’s so great. You said yes, right? Will his parents also be there?”
“In a roundabout sort of way, and yes, I’m assuming they will be.” I looked at the clock hanging above the mantle. Wren had been gone for ten minutes. I wondered if he crossed the street. I wondered if he was just stepping into his apartment. If he was laying on his bed, staring at his cell and waiting for me to call.
“What do you mean? You didn’t say yes?” Trish’s eyebrows pushed together.
“I agreed to go. Let’s just keep it at that. I stood up and grabbed my phone from the coffee table. “Look, I need to fix things. Somehow. Some way.”
“Kingsley, he loves you. He looks at you like he’s just struck gold. You have to show him that you care just as much.”
I’d given that same advice to myself, but never followed it. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I could fix this situation with three words.
I shut my bedroom door behind me and dialed his number.
“Kingsley.”
Wren’s strangled voice made me shiver as I crawled into my welcoming bed. I opened my mouth, expecting the words to just flow out, but nothing came. I just stayed quiet and listened to Wren’s steady breathing.
“Kingsley?”
The silence had become unbearable.
“Hi,” I finally spit out. “Wren, I—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t say that you’re sorry you can’t say certain things, or you feel terrible for not feeling the same way about me. I don’t want to hear that.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“I just want to know one thing, Kingsley.” He paused before continuing, almost as if he were waiting for me to cut in. “I want to know if you actually meant what you told me on that street corner.”
I licked my lips. I closed my eyes. I allowed Trish’s advice to sink into me and soak up all of my cowardice. “I meant every word.”
Have you ever been on the phone with someone, and you could almost feel their smile through the receiver? One that was so apparent that it made you smile as well? I could feel Wren’s cheeks lift. I could feel his eyes flutter and then close, because that’s what he did when something made him really happy. Not only was his joy contagious, but it also gave me promise that maybe my heart could be repaired.
I woke the next morning still clutching the yearbook to my chest. Yesterday, I was punished for something I didn’t do, so I stayed in the basement for the remainder of the night, only going upstairs to use the restroom. No one came and checked on me and I was okay with that. I refused to give Mr. and Mrs. Henderson the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I stood up slowly, my arms and knees aching from the earlier fall. Bending down, I inspected my body for any bruises or cuts, only noticing one below my left elbow.
The front door opened and I heard Mrs. Henderson saying goodbye to someone. Without any thought, I raced up the twenty-five steps to shower as quickly as I could. Just as I was coming out of the bathroom, Mr. Henderson was walking up the stairs. I clung to my bathrobe, frightened by his presence.
Mr. Henderson had never hit me before, but I was terrified in his company. Whenever I was in the same room as him, I’d find him staring at me, studying my body. He made me feel uncomfortable, like I had to cover up every inch of skin so he had nothing left to admire. Most times, he wouldn’t say a word to me; if it wasn’t for the way his eyes lit up whenever I walked into the room, I’d be convinced I was invisible to him.
He stood at the top step, blocking me from walking past. “What were you doing in there for so long?”
“I was just showering. Getting ready for day.”
“You have a bathroom downstairs.”
I didn’t stand close to Mr. Henderson, but I could still feel his breath on my face as he spoke. I looked down at his feet, disgusted at the sight. His toenails were long, and the corner of his big toe was as yellow as an ear of corn.
“The toilet stopped working last week. I told you—”
Mr. Henderson’s hand collided against my cheek so hard that I ended up falling backward onto the bathroom tile. I looked at the floor, cradling my cheek and willing myself not to cry. He kneeled in front of me, waiting for me to look up at him. When I finally did, he spoke, his words coated with venom.
“If you ever talk to me like that again, you’ll sleep outside with the animals.”
He pushed me out of the way, slamming the bathroom door against my back. Still holding my cheek, I rose to my feet just as Andrew ran up the stairs.
Andrew was my favorite of all the children in the house. He was the only one under our roof that asked me to play with him and the only one that gave me any sort of affection.
The moment Andrew saw me, he stopped in his tracks. His face was all chubby cheeks and big green eyes. He was only six, so his world was still filled with rainbows and happily ever afters.
“Kingsley?” His eyes moved over my face. “Why are you sitting on the floor? What’s wrong with your face?” Andrew sat down in front of me and crossed his legs. With his tiny fingers, he touched my hand.
“I’m okay, Drew. I just fell.” I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, hoping to ease his worry.
“Your face!” Andrew’s hand shot up to my cheek. “It’s all red!”
“Drew, shhh,” I whispered, knowing Mr. Henderson was near. “I’m fine, I just hurt myself. See?” I pretended to slap my cheek, mustering a smile even though I could feel my eyes gloss over with tears. I counted to ten in my head, breathing in deeply with each number.
“Daddy did that, didn’t he?” Andrew’s bottom lip jutted out. His cheeks turned a bright pink as his eyes became glossy.
A tear trickled down my cheek without my permission. I had never once cried in front of anyone, but when I saw how sad Andrew was on my account, I wasn’t able to stop myself.
I was about to tell the truth when Mr. Henderson swung open the bathroom door. He stared down at us like we had just stolen the most precious item he owned. Andrew shot up, looking from me to Mr. Henderson, and without saying another word, ran into his bedroom and shut the door. I clenched my teeth, fearing the worst.
“What did you tell Andrew?” Mr. Henderson shouted. He bent down, grabbing me by my arm and yanking me upward.
“I-I didn’t tell him anything,” I fumbled. “I-I told him I hurt myself. I promise.”
Mr. Henderson grabbed onto my robe, his liquored breath filling the air around us. “Go to your room, Kingsley. I’ll be down later to teach you a lesson.”
The moment he walked away, I sucked too much air into my lungs, unable to stop myself from hyperventilating. I was shaking from head to toe, but I couldn’t stay in that spot. I couldn’t risk being seen again. If another one of the kids found me, I’d be doomed.
I shut the door to the basement, wishing there was a way to lock it; a way to keep Mr. Henderson out. I searched through the countless boxes that filled most of the basement, looking for anything that could keep the door from being opened, even though I knew there was nothing in this world that could keep me safe from him.
The sheets on my bed sheltered me as I watched the sun disappear from view. I’d made a point to stay in bed all day, not wanting to get into any more trouble. It was getting late, and Mr. Henderson hadn’t made an appearance. He’d never been down in the basement. He’d never shown
any interest in talking to me. His wife was always the one that hit me or yelled at me, but now I realized that this whole time, he was the one I should fear the most.
After a while, I stopped hearing footsteps upstairs. The children’s laughter had died down, and all I heard was the news blaring from the living room TV. Mr. Henderson must have forgotten about me. He must be out getting drunk. Relief washed over me, and my tired eyes finally closed.
I felt a draft hit my skin and tried wrapping the sheet tighter around my body. I kept pulling and pulling, tugging at the worn fabric. Frustration woke me, and I opened my eyes to see someone staring back. My breath hitched and I reacted by pulling at the sheet once more, trying desperately to cover myself up.
“How can you look so peaceful when you live this kind of life?” Mr. Henderson asked as he reached over and touched my face.
I froze. My entire body was a mountain of ice. His deep brown eyes were the only thing I could see in the darkness. He shifted his weight on the mattress, moving closer to me. I couldn’t stop my body from shaking, and as it did, Mr. Henderson laughed. He knew I was petrified of what was coming, yet he did nothing to ease my discomfort.
“Please,” I choked. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Kingsley,” he said as his hand moved to the top of the sheet. “I just want to see you.”
I repressed a sob in my throat, trying desperately to remain brave. Mr. Henderson moved the sheet off of my body, a small grin flashing on his face. I wore the same thing to bed each night. The gym shorts I’d had since I was ten were small, and over the years, my legs had become fuller. My t-shirt had also shrunk, and it showed the outline of my breasts, which seemed to have grown two cup sizes overnight.
Mr. Henderson gawked at my figure. His eyes moved over every part of me, and I watched as his eyes flashed with satisfaction. I tried reaching for the sheet, but he grabbed onto my hand so tightly, tears swam down my face.
“Don’t. Move.” He pushed my hand into the mattress, forcing it down with his own. With his free hand, he cradled my face. “You’re a real beauty. It’s a shame it’s taken me this long to realize it. When you stood in the hallway this morning, just out of the shower, your hair still soaked, that’s when I realized how pretty you are.”
I could no longer control myself. I began sobbing, begging him to let me go to sleep.
“Please, Mr. Henderson. I just want to sleep. I promise I won’t cause any more trouble. I won’t say anything, just please don’t hurt me.” I could barely speak, but I managed to add, “I won’t tell Mrs. Henderson that you came down here. I’ll keep it a secret.”
“You won’t tell anyone that I was ever here!” he hissed. He tightened his hold on my hand, practically stopping the blood flow. His touch moved from my face to my arm. His index finger circled my shoulder and he licked his lips slowly, keeping his focus on my body.
I couldn’t fight him off of me. He was too strong, and I was weak. If I tried, he would have killed me. I just knew it.
“Beautiful girl,” he whispered.
Bile rose up my throat and I knew that if I were to become sick, the moment would be over, but I couldn’t go on each day wondering when and if Mr. Henderson was going to sneak into the basement again. So I swallowed it down and forced myself to get through this. I would block out what was happening and forget about it once it was over.
I commanded my eyes to close and began humming. I hummed a mixture of songs that took me away from the moment. I needed to hear my own voice to know that I wasn’t dying. Thankfully, Mr. Henderson didn’t tell me to shut up. He allowed me that one gift.
I don’t remember what happened next. The last thing I felt were his fingers drifting down my shorts. I just kept humming, over and over, until I wasn’t able to feel a thing. He didn’t speak. He just explored, touched, and violated every inch of me. When his weight lifted off of my mattress and I heard the basement door close, I finally opened my eyes.
Mr. Henderson left, and with him, he took my innocence.
I hated mornings. I hated them so much that I considered canceling the trip to the Hamptons. I knew I couldn’t do that to Wren, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was feeling the same way right now. We’d stayed up talking on the phone until four in the morning. Wren told me all about his past summers in the Hamptons, all about how he, Jay, Samson used to have the times of their lives. He didn’t go into too much detail, though, and I was convinced he left out how much random ass he’d gotten over those summers. Whenever I’d try and get him to confess, he’d tell me that Samson and Jay got the most attention. I didn’t believe that lie for a second. Wren was the hottest of his friends. He had the best body, the best personality, and the most money. How could any girl refuse a steak dinner and ask for Burger King instead?
I felt around for my phone and was just about to dial Wren’s number when my phone rang.
“You awake?” Wren asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
“Unfortunately,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You better be.”
“It’s way too early to challenge me, plus you’d lose anyway,” I grumbled.
“Get in the shower. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
In the background I could hear Wren’s sheets rustling. It was a sad fact that he wasn’t here in my bed, naked under my sheets.
“When are you going to realize that I don’t take orders?”
“Probably the same time you realize that it’s not acceptable to tell a stranger on the street that their shoes don’t match with their belt,” he retorted.
“Touché.”
The silence on the line gave me every indication that Wren was smiling. I imagined him lying on his back, the corners of his mouth turned upward as he lazily stared at the ceiling.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said before hanging up.
I had sixty minutes to get ready. Wren would most likely show up in forty-five. He was always early. By the time I had showered and dressed in jeans and a tank top, Wren was knocking on the door. I looked down at my battered watch, a memoir of my youth, and saw that only forty minutes had passed.
“You’re early,” I snapped, opening up the door.
He walked past me and into the kitchen, making himself right at home. “Good thing being early isn’t a crime,” he said as he rummaged through the pantry, “or else you’d have my head on stick.”
“Probably more than just your head,” I muttered under my breath.
I went into my bedroom to continue getting ready. My bag was already packed, thanks to Wren, and all I had left to do was tame my hair into a ponytail. Wren followed me, stuffing his mouth with a powdered doughnut.
“How do you eat shit like that but never gain weight?”
“I guess I’m just perfect,” Wren replied, wiping away the white powder from the side of his mouth.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him into me. Wren had one of those backs that artists dream of sketching. Every inch of it was defined. I ran my hands inside his shirt, caressing the softness of his skin. Just touching the skin, you wouldn’t know that it was covered in ink. The first time we had sex, I watched his back in the mirror. I remember being turned on at the intricate tattoo displayed on his skin, and the more I ran my fingers over the ink, the more I wanted to know what possessed him to get it.
“How come you never talk about your tattoos?”
“What’s there to discuss?” he said, averting his eyes. “Each one has a personal meaning to me.”
“Will you tell me what this one means?” I asked, tracing his back.
Wren didn’t answer right away, instead he just squeezed me tighter.
“Wren?” I persisted.
“It’s the elephants from the Salvador Dalí painting,” he answered in a hushed tone.
“I know they’re elephants, but what do they mean to you?”
Every image Wren chose to be permanently etched with, he picked for a reason. Whenever
I’d ask him about one, it would take him time to reveal the meaning, but when he did, he explained them in full detail, going into the specific thoughts he had racing through his mind as the needle pierced his skin.
The swallow on his chest represented hope. No matter what he faced, if he had hope, he could get through anything. On the inside of his left arm was a sketch of his literary hero, Kurt Vonnegut. The only tattoo he refused to open up about were the letters on his fingers. He’d said that they weren’t meant for anyone except him.
“The elephants remind me to keep myself balanced and not let the baggage from my past weigh me down,” he explained quickly.
“What about these initials right—” I pressed my fingers onto his knuckles.
“Kingsley, we need to get going.”
Wren had secrets just as I did, and I had a feeling that because I wasn’t able to open up, he chose not to either.
“Let’s just get ready to go,” he said as he bent down to kiss my cheek. He picked up my bag from the floor and walked out into the hallway. “I’m gonna put your bag in my car. I’ll be right back.”
I sat down at my vanity to apply some concealer to my puffy eyes. Looking at my reflection, I saw the little girl that was terrified of the world staring back. Over the years, I’d shut out my past and did my best to forget who that little girl was. She was weak, and I promised myself that I’d never go back to being like her again, but every time I looked at myself, fear resurfaced. Her trembling jaw, her eyes red from endless crying, her heavy heart mirrored in my eyes. I reached out and touched my reflection, wanting so badly to wipe her away, but no matter how many times I tried, I was stuck with her. Every day I was haunted by my past self, reminding me that I’d never get over what happened to me.
I could feel the panic building in my chest, anxiety flooding my veins. My forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I knew if I let myself sit for much longer, I’d break down.
“You all right?” Wren’s voice made me jump from my seat.
I controlled my heavy breathing, disguising it with a smile and a nod. “Yeah. Ready to go?”
In Control (The City Series) Page 6