Crowned with Guilt

by S. K. Rose

  “Is he botherin’ ya, darlin?” this bear of a man is asking Tess with a thick accent, but she’s completely checked out.

  “I’m sorry, you do realize she’s still in high school, right?” I ask, pretending to be curious. Yeah, she’s not going to be happy about that one—if she remembers it.

  From the club entrance I hear a bubbly voice shout over the music. “Woo! Get it, Drew!” I barely stop myself from slamming a palm to my forehead.

  Tessa’s new buddy is out the door faster than a bolt of lightning, muttering under his breath about birds the whole way out.

  She’s not overly upset when she discovers he’s gone. In fact, she’s already got the bottle of booze back in her hand and poised to take another swig. I quickly snatch it out of her hand and return it to the counter, blue eyes blink in confusion as she looks at her empty hand.

  Pushing away from the bar, she tries to storm off, but instead does a head-dive toward the concrete floor. Thankfully, I catch her before she reaches the ground. In my arms she blinks slowly, tilting her head as she looks at me curiously.

  Under her breath she says something that sounds suspiciously like, “My prince, always saving me.” Which I must have heard wrong. What an ego trip.

  I lead her out the doors and to the car, where I place her carefully inside. I throw Marybeth my hoodie to wrap around her, since she’s half-naked and shivering.

  The drive home is silent, with Tessa passed out in Marybeth’s lap. When we pull up, the porch light is on, but the rest of the house is dark. Mom and Dad usually go to bed early, and being the good kids that we generally are, they trust us.

  We lead Tess to Marybeth’s room to keep a close eye on her. I can’t imagine booze was a good idea when she recently got out of the hospital for dehydration. Not that the rest of her life decisions today have been particularly intelligent.

  I leave the room as Beth helps gets her into some pajamas. After I make and eat a quick snack, I head back up and start to open the door, stopping when I hear that the girls are talking. Marybeth is coaxing a barely conscious Tessa into drinking some water. She says something I can’t understand, and then I hear Tessa start to cry.

  “Shh, shh,” Beth uses a soft voice to try to comfort her.

  “It hurts so much. I thought I killed him, Blossom. It hurts to be so close when he can’t rememb—” Tessa’s words become unintelligible, and opening the door a little wider, I can see her whole body is wracked with sobs.

  “Don’t leave me, I dun wannnabe alone anymore. Pleassh. I love him, Blossom. I’ve always loved him.” I watch as she slumps forward and passes out in Marybeth’s arms.

  Her last words are a kick to my gut.

  She’s in love?

  I should have known that’s why she’s acting out with some stranger in a bar. Trying to make some other guy jealous. What I still can’t wrap my head around is how anyone could abandon her knowing she didn’t have a safe place to call home? What kind of monster would do that?

  I have to get these crazy thoughts and feelings in check. Her heart is already taken, but I can still help her as a friend.

  Opening the door the rest of the way, I enter just in time to help Marybeth get her under the covers and onto her side in case she wakes up needing to throw up. I also grab the bathroom’s trash bin and place it next to the bed. My sister helps pull Tessa’s wild tangle of curls up out of her face and into a bun before gently tucking her in for the night.

  We drop with exhaustion to the futon that’s next to the bed. Looking over once more I notice she put Tess in pink pajamas that are covered in little happy unicorns.

  Doom and gloom Tessa is going to have a conniption in the morning when she sees it. I can't help but chuckle at the thought.

  Without having to say a word, Marybeth puts on our favorite childhood movie Legend. Tim Curry makes a damn good devil if I do say so myself. I’m reminded to be grateful that memories like this could find their way back to me after the accident. Marybeth lays her head on my shoulder and is oddly quiet. A surefire way to know something is wrong with my sister.

  “You okay?” I ask softly.

  “Just worried about her. She’s dealing with a lot, and it’s all super crazy, but I want to help her. I just. . . I have to help her, Drew. She hasn’t got anyone else.” She sighs. They must have become closer friends than I realized for her to feel this strongly.

  Then again, I’ve just met her and I find myself feeling the same way.

  “I heard her just now. Sounds like it’s just a little boyfriend trouble.” I regret the words as soon as they slip out. I’ve seen the darkness that clouds her eyes, and I know it’s so much more, but I can’t help but feel frustrated by her confession of love.

  Marybeth whips her head up to glare at me.

  “Don't you dare say that, you don’t know what she’s been through. Just the little bit I know is awful, Andrew. Her parents aren’t good people, and a while ago, she lost someone she loved. She would be furious I even told you this much,” she whisper-yells at me as not to disturb Tessa. “Please don’t ask me anymore. Drew, just know she’s really broken and hurting. She is gonna try and push us away like she does with everyone, but I know she needs us, and I need you to trust me.” She lays her head back down, too tired to hold it up any longer.

  I reassure her that I’ll help and decide not to push the issue anymore tonight. Curled up next to me, she falls asleep quickly. I grab a blanket and cover her up so she stays warm throughout the night. I try to focus on the movie, but my gaze keeps returning to our guest.

  It’s the first time I have ever seen her look peaceful.

  She’s not scowling or looking around her surroundings with suspicion. She’s not swearing up a storm or running. Loose curls sprawl across the pink bedspread, her lips are blood-red and a smoky black powder covers her eyelids.

  She looks like a dark angel.

  However, her scary dark makeup and scowling face no longer fool me. It’s all an act. She does whatever she can to keep up a barricade between herself and anyone who might hurt her.

  The Great Wall of Tessa, as I’m officially deeming it.

  Even with chunks of my memories gone I know looking at her right now, she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

  Scowls and all.

  Chapter 29

  ─────

  Tessa

  I wake to the mother of all splitting headaches. Opening my eyes to narrow slits, I’m assaulted by the color pink. It’s everywhere. I’m outnumbered a million to one.

  I must have died last night. That’s the only possible conclusion my sluggish brain can come to. I died and, well, let’s be honest—I was probably murdered, as I piss a lot of people off—and have been thrown in hell where the Devil threw pink everywhere just to spite me.

  Opening my eyes a little wider, I see a bottle of water lying next to me. Snatching it up I finish off the soothing liquid in a few gulps. I begin to unwrap myself from the wonderfully warm fuchsia blanket, gasp, and slam it right back over my body.

  What. The. Shit. Am. I. Wearing?

  After a deep breath, I brave it once more, pulling back the covers I toss them to the side.

  I am covered from head to toe in cute, cuddly unicorn material that doesn’t quite reach all the way to my wrists or ankles. It takes amazing willpower not to scream.

  Uni-fucking-corns.

  Yup, this is definitely hell.

  I rip off the pajamas as if they cause me physical pain. I sit up on the strange pink cloud and take in my surroundings. I pull in my knees and wrap my arms around them to observe the large room in wonder. There's a giant window with pink curtains, tons of smiling faces hang in frames all over the walls, and girly accessories are strewn everywhere. Peeking into the messy closet, I note the biggest shoe collection I have ever seen.

  Looking to my left, I spot my unicorn-toting abductors. The Blackwell twins are dead to the world on some sort of weird couch. Beth is curled up on one end
with her hand still wrapped around a remote. Andrew is in a sitting position, his head has fallen to the side, and a few strands of stray blond hair sweep across his handsome face.

  Until now, I never completely registered how much they truly look like twins. In the beginning, each time I looked at Beth, I would immediately think of him, so it really shouldn’t be such a shocker. Their eyes are the same shade of green, but now I also see that most of their features are quite similar.

  They both have defined cheekbones, the same shade of fair skin, and identically shaped noses and lips. Beth’s blonde roots starting to peek through prove they even have the same shade of hair.

  Whenever I see my reflection in the mirror, I know by the symmetrical standards of beauty that I’m attractive. My thick, dark hair frames sensual lips, a dainty nose, and long eyelashes that border cold blue eyes. However, it’s a damning beauty that has only ever caused me misery. Dark makeup and ugly expressions usually do the job to deter the male species.

  Except when I’m at Oasis, it’s the very thing that makes me so popular. The types of men drawn there are also drawn to my darkness that reflects their little black hearts. Well, that and all my exposed lady bits.

  Throw me next to the twins and the contrast is striking—we are the epitome of light and dark.

  Angels and demon.

  Good and evil.

  I imagine the characters we would be in the old fairytales that consumed my childhood.

  The twins would fight side by side for all that is good and beautiful in the world. Knights of Truth and Justice, whose good deeds would resonate with every creature for miles around. Then comes the antagonist—Tessa the Reaper, bloodied scythe in hand. Having her innocence ripped from her at such an early age makes for a great villain back story, doesn’t it?

  I see movement from the corner of my eye. Andrew’s eyes are open wide and staring at me with a strange expression. His eyes snap to the wall as he clears his throat.

  Shit, I really hope he didn’t see all the scars. I don’t want him knowing that part of my past. He’s forgotten my abusive history once and I plan to keep it that way.

  Oh yeah. I’m also sitting in lacy red lingerie. He is a male and was probably just staring at that. I cover myself with the blanket to ease his anxiety. I’ve never felt shy about my body before, it’s just a tool to help me get money and food in my stomach, but this boy makes me feel, what’s the word. . . bashful? Ugh.

  “Um, sorry. You can look now,” I whisper.

  His eyes slide back over hesitantly. “How are you feeling?” He wisely avoids the topic of me being half-naked.

  “Ugh, not great. How did I get. . . um wherever the hell I am?” I groan. Feeling dizzy, I collapse back into the sheets.

  “Well, when you disappeared, we got worried. Marybeth and I looked everywhere until we found you at that club downtown.”

  I turn slowly onto my side, propping my head up on my palm to look at him.

  They were worried about me?

  I remember only bits and pieces of last night. Dancing, a line of shots. . . wait, wasn’t there some British guy coming on to me? I groan inwardly. That’s right—I was getting hot and heavy when I was pulled away by none other than Andrew. Perfect.

  “Do you go there a lot?” he asks, the corner of his mouth tugging into a frown.

  “I work there most weekends. My shift had ended before I started drinking and I was just trying to relax and have a bit of fun.” Why do I sound defensive? I don’t need to explain myself to him, or anyone for that matter.

  “Why the hell would they let an underage girl work in a nightclub like that? Tess, I literally saw someone having sex against the glass in there,” he hisses.

  “I have a fake ID and I can handle myself. Ace pays me in cash and the regulars don’t fuck with me.” Who is he to tell me where I should or shouldn’t work?

  “Don’t fuck with you? Jesus, and what exactly do you do at that place?” The disgust creeping into his voice is more than I can bear.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have your perfect fucking life, Blackwell. I don’t get allowances from Mommy and Daddy. I work my ass off to put food in my stomach and get through school so I can get out of this shit-hole of a town. Stop talking to me like you understand my goddamn life. We aren’t friends, you don’t even know me.” I immediately regret revealing so much.

  Jumping up I run out of the room in my revealing wardrobe. I seek refuge in a bathroom just down the hall. Locking myself in, I lean my back against the door and slide down to the floor. My whole body is shaking with rage and embarrassment.

  How dare he judge me.

  My Andrew saw right through the bullshit, the scars, and loved me anyways.

  This Andrew can’t see through the layers I hide underneath. He’s disgusted by me, and for the first time, I care what someone else thinks of me.

  Fucking awesome.

  Chapter 30

  ─────

  Andrew

  The first thing I see is red lace. Tessa is lost in deep thought and I let my eyes travel from her pouty red lips to the sexy curve of her back. She is damn near naked and only a couple feet away from me.

  Let this dream never, ever end.

  I blink a few times until the events of last night come back in a rush. Oh crap, this is not a dream.

  She hasn’t noticed I’m awake. I open my mouth to say something, but my attention is drawn to the tattoo on her ribs. Inked down her side is a wicked looking scythe. Wrapped around the long handle of the weapon is a strange pink flower. My eyes wander to the other markings on her body. With her hair swept up off her neck I notice that little scars are scattered all over her neck down to her tailbone. Deep lines are carved into her shoulder blades and along her ribs.

  I feel sick, but can’t stop myself from seeking out every damaged part of her skin. Scars crisscross in a pattern on the outside of her skinny thighs, the largest ones which are also the faintest, go across the whole span of her lower back. My head is spinning and my imagination runs rampant, presenting me with horrible ways she could have received each scar.

  Turning her head, she meets my gaze, eyes wide as saucers. I immediately look away, not wanting her to think I’m some pervert ogling her body—or worse, judging her scars.

  Once she’s covered up and given me the okay that it’s safe to look, I try my best to forget what I saw and begin retelling the night’s events at her request. Before I know what’s happening, I’ve shoved my foot in my mouth and insulted her, causing her to run away, again. I cringe when I hear the bathroom door slam shut.

  Man, the females in my life have never been this complicated before and I’m not entirely sure I’m up for the challenge.

  I was being an asshole, and as soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. Thinking back on last night had relit my anger. It was infuriating that she would so casually put herself in a position to be so vulnerable.

  Regardless of how justified I feel about my anger, guilt worms its way into my brain. Looking over, I see Marybeth’s eyes wide open. Knowing her, she was probably awake and listening the whole time.

  “You’re incredibly stupid, broseph.” She yawns while sitting up to stretch out her arms and back.

  Yep, she was eavesdropping.

  “Yeah, probably, but you saw that place. It’s not s-safe for her, you saw that guy taking advantage of her drunken state. She could have gotten hurt—or w-worse!” I hate that my words stutter when I get worked up. Stupid messed up brain.

  “Drew, I get it, but have you thought about the fact that she may not have many options? We’ve already come to the conclusion that she’s homeless, and obviously has no one looking after her. I mean, you see how skinny she is, right? How about the scars she tries to hide? And when’s the last time you think she even had a decent meal? If that was me, I would probably feel trapped, angry, and super lonely. I don't really understand it, but from the moment I saw her in the back of that class, I knew she needed a frie
nd.”

  She’s right. God, I hate when she’s right. I have to fix this.

  “Alright, alright I hear you. Go let Mom know what’s going on and help her start breakfast,” I say while standing up. I don’t wait for her response. I head to my room and quickly change grabbing an extra T-shirt and a pair of shorts. I’ll have to shower later since Tessa has barricaded herself in our bathroom.

  I knock lightly.

  Silence

  “Tessa, I—you were right. I don’t know you, and we aren't friends.” I hear a small intake of breath from the other side of the door.

  “But, I want to be. I want to know you and I want t-to be your friend. I had no right to assume anything, and I promise it won’t happen again. I just, well Tessa I . . . I would really like it if you joined us for b-breakfast downstairs.”

  Whoa, what did I just almost admit?

  That I have a magnetic pull constantly driving me to be near her?

  The way she gives me caveman-like tendencies to smash things and protect her?

  Or how about the insane need I have to find whoever left those scars and rip them limb from limb?

  No, no, no, that’s crazy. I’m officially crazy.

  “Take a shower if you want. I’ve placed some of my clothes outside the door while we wash yours. Unless you wanted something of my sister’s that’s a little more pink.”

  “No!” Her muffled squeak sounds panicky. Ha! I knew that would get her to talk. I smile to myself, knowing I won this round.

  “Come on downstairs when you’re ready.” I stand there quietly for a few moments until I hear the water turn on. I try hard not to imagine her sliding out of that red lingerie.

  Really, really hard.

  Downstairs, I find Marybeth and Mom bustling around the kitchen. Mom’s making her famous pancakes while Marybeth is cooking bacon on the stovetop. Dad sits in his usual spot at the kitchen table reading CNN on his tablet.

  At first glance, Clyde Blackwell looks intimidating with his strong jaw and broad shoulders. But upon closer inspection, you see lines around his mouth and eyes from years of love and laughter. His graying blond hair is always kept slicked back, and the rest of him is just as polished, from his trim beard to his manicured nails.