“Jeremy, I’m tired,” I say when we find ourselves in a rare moment of isolation in a secluded corner. “I want to go to bed.”
“Already?” he asks. “I thought you would have enjoyed this.”
I shrug. “It’s not exactly my scene.”
Jeremy gives a secretive smile. “To tell the truth, it’s not mine either. I’d much rather be alone…with you…” His hand caresses the side of my stomach. “…in our bedroom, upstairs…”
“So end this,” I suggest. “Wind the party down. Tell everyone to go home. You’re the host.”
“As the host,” he says forlornly, “I still have certain duties to perform. But why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll see if I can’t get there soon.”
I hesitate. I haven’t left his side all evening. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“Definitely,” he says, kissing my lips. “I can manage. And if you’re tired, I don’t mean to keep you here…” He lowers his voice and looks at me with unspoken conviction. “…against your wishes.”
My head is spinning from too much drink to heed the danger of those words.
“Goodnight, then,” I say, “until I see you again.”
“It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours,” Jeremy promises.
I break away from him and drift through the crowd. I hear murmurs that dampen when I come close. Whispers and furtive words. Are they talking about me?
Stop this, I tell myself firmly. You’re becoming as paranoid as Paul.
And at that moment, like an apparition rising from the crypt, I see him before me.
Except, he’s not alone. My mother is there beside him. They are talking, speaking, laughing…as if nothing at all is wrong.
I blink, and the illusion shatters. Paul is not here. The man I’d mistaken for him is speaking to his wife. Pretty couple…
Jesus Lilly. Get a grip! I chide myself, bringing a hand to my head. Why would Jeremy bring Paul here?
Noises and voices around me assault my senses. It’s suddenly too much. There are too many people, too many sounds, too much commotion. I made a grave mistake leaving Jeremy’ side. He was my anchor. Without him, I am lost.
I look back over my shoulder. But the spot where I’d left him is empty. He is gone.
Again, I’m surrounded by all the voices. All the people. Someone is trying to make conversation with me. I’m dimly aware of that. I mumble something back, some excuse that hardly sounds plausible even to my own ears. And then I flee.
I flee to escape all the voices. I flee to escape all the noise. I flee because being around so many people, in a place where I had been alone for so long, in a place where I’d glimpsed the darkest corners of my soul, feels worse than the gravest sin.
It feels like sacrilege.
I run through the halls, away from the sounds, away from the laughter, away from the mirth. Shapes and figures seem to rise out of the walls and leap at me. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
I’m frantic. I’m dizzy. I’m scared. This reaction—my reaction—is not normal. Far from it. I don’t know what’s going on, if it’s the alcohol or the brain damage or the utter unpredictability of my environment that has me raving internally like a lunatic.
“Lilly?”
A voice in the distance. A voice in the darkness. A voice that comes and pulls me up out of my blackened orb of despair.
I stop, turn around. I hear the voice again, though I cannot focus on its source.
“Lilly, are you okay?
Footsteps. Coming toward me. My eyes can see. I’m not blind. But my brain refuses to attach meaning to the imagery. But hear? I can hear. I can hear just fine.
I cling to that capacity like a drowning woman to a floating device.
“Lilly. Jesus! What’s going on? Help! Somebody get help!”
I’m horizontal. Lying on something hard. Did I fall?
“Lilly, you must hold on. Hold on. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Help! Goddammit! Somebody help me!”
Hands. Hands on me. Hands touching me. Hands holding my arms.
“Help! Help!”
The cries are becoming frenetic.
Why? There’s nothing wrong.
I feel a tranquil peace slide over me. Those hands…they’ll keep me safe. Won’t they?
More footsteps. Rushing close. I can feel their thud on the ground. I am on the floor.
How did I get here?
“…I don’t know. I just found her like this. All on her own, yes…”
It’s that first voice again. The panic has subdued but not cast away. There’s a familiarity to that voice. Something that tells me I should know it.
And then, from out of the mist, my vision clears, and I see the scene clearly before me.
Tracy, my blonde-haired neighbor. Tracy is leaning over me. There, a man by her side. Somebody I don’t recognize. She’s holding both my arms, and looks to be close to panic.
I frown. “I’m okay.” I mouth the words. There is no voice attached. “I’m okay,” I try again. This time, it’s precious more than a whisper. “I’m okay,” I say once more. Finally, the words leave my lips as I intend them to.
Tracy blinks, and looks down at me. I push myself up. I am half-seated on the floor, with my legs tucked under me.
“What happened?” I ask. I get the uncanny sensation that either hours have passed—or no time at all.
There are people running down the hall. I see them all. I don’t want them to see me like this. “Help me up,” I mutter.
Tracy moves to obey in an instant. She slides an arm under my shoulder. Together, we rise.
“Jeremy,” I hear someone saying. “We have to get Jeremy!”
“No, no. I’m all right,” I say. “I slipped. That’s all.”
Tracy looks at me in disbelief. Then I catch a change in her eyes. Understanding.
“I’ve got her,” she says. “I saw what happened. She really did just fall.”
“We heard you calling for help,” a man counters.
“I panicked. Overreacted.” She forces a laugh. “I thought she might have hit her head and passed out.”
I feel a multitude of eyes on me. I feel them watching, waiting. Judging.
“It’s these damned heels,” I mumble. “Men have really got to stop insisting that we wear them.”
The tension breaks. A few people laugh. Others turn away, realizing this really was nothing more than a false alarm.
But Tracy, holding me tight, whispers, “You’re not getting away from so easily.”
***
She and I find a quiet room in which to discuss what happened.
“I saw you leaving before I got a chance to say hello,” she tells me. “So I went after you. I heard you talking to someone. I thought there was a man around the corner. But, when I got closer, you were alone.”
I shake my head. “I don’t remember any of it,” I say weakly.
Tracy looks at me in disbelief. Her expression is mixed with a bit of…consternation. “I called your name. You looked startled to have heard me. And then you turned, looked at me—and you ran.”
I feel suddenly cold, lost, and very much alone. Deserted again on that island of my choosing.
“Then what?” I whisper.
“Well, I went after you. I didn’t like what I saw in your eyes when you looked at me. It was a blank, vacant stare. Almost like you didn’t know who I was.” She flips her hair back. “And even if we’d only met once, I was sure you remembered me.”
I give her an inscrutable look that makes her shrug. “I’m a little vain, I know.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“You turned a corner. I didn’t hear you fall or anything. But when I found you, you were curled up on the floor. You kept muttering, ‘Paul, Paul, Paul.’”
I gasp. “No!”
She frowns at me. “No, what?”
“No, I…I can’t believe I was doing that.”
“Well, you wer
e,” Tracy says. “And it freaked me the hell out. I thought you were having a bad trip.”
“I don’t do drugs,” I say firmly.
She looks at me with obvious disdain. She thinks I’m a liar.
“Come on,” she says. “I’m not four. Everybody who’s in on this lifestyle does them. It’s the only thing that keeps us from getting bored.”
“Well I don’t,” I reaffirm.
“Then explain to me what I saw,” Tracy challenges. “I took a bullet for you. I supported your little lie about tripping and falling. It was obvious you didn’t want to see Jeremy. What else could the reason be? You didn’t want him to know what happened.”
“No,” I say. “It must have been something else. Somebody slipped something in my drink, or…” I trail off.
Or I really am going crazy.
“Or what?” Tracy persists.
Then her demeanor softens. She sits beside me and places a hand on my knee. “I know what it’s like,” she says gently. “It’s obvious you weren’t born into this lifestyle. It’s exciting at first. Thrilling. You think you have the whole world at your fingertips. I’m speaking from personal experience. But my husband doesn’t even have a sliver of what Jeremy Stonehart does. Not a hundredth. But I still remember the first few years I spent with him. Everything was larger than life. It was impressive, astounding…but also overwhelming.
“And it’s okay if you get overwhelmed,” she tells me. “So long as you find some way out of it in the end. You’ll see the world hasn’t changed as much as you might have imagined at first. Your limits stretch. But then you become accustomed to them, and they box you in once more.”
She stands up. “Maybe I’m just talking nonsense,” she tells me. “There’s no reason for you to listen to me. But if you ever need someone you can trust? Someone you can confide in? Well, I’m not far away.
“And Lilly?” she adds as she steps away. “I do know what it’s like for you. Really. It’s lonely at the top. If you need a friend—well, I’ll be waiting.”
And with that she leaves the room, gone like a trail of smoke scattered by the wind.
Chapter Six
After Tracy leaves, I retreat to the sunroom. I haven’t been here since Jeremy let me sleep in his bed.
I spend a long time staring out the window at the darkened sea.
In a way, returning feels somewhat like what Jeremy must have experienced, entering his mother’s loft. We both went back to the place where things began. Him, many years ago. Me, only months.
But the distance that spans that time, for me, seems enormous.
I trace my hand over the lone marble pillar. How many nights had I spent in the dark with it as my only companion? Now, it feels almost like a lost friend.
I walk to the edge of my former perimeter. When I stared out at the darkness before, what did I imagine lay past the blackened veil?
Love? Life? Or was it…
Insanity?
I am losing my mind. I must be, to think that I can love Jeremy Stonehart. The episode today is another glimpse of the poisoned waters of my mind.
Who’s at fault here? Jeremy? Are these visions, these hallucinations coming because of the collar? Is the collar what made Paul into who he is? Or was it the drugs?
One or the other, does it really make a difference? I don’t need to lay blame. I need to find a solution. A solution to fix my mind.
If one even exists.
Now that is a ghastly thought. Tonight was proof that Jeremy’s story about brain damage checks out.
There is love and there is beauty. Both in living and in death.
Right now, I feel like I’m trapped in a void—not quite there and not quite here.
The uncertainty frightens me. The things happening to my mind terrify me. Just when I thought I was safe, when I thought that I could finally make peace with who Jeremy Stonehart is and the world he has brought me into, an episode like this leaves me reeling.
It’s quiet in the sunroom. So far detached from the rest of the house, it is impossible to judge whether the guests are still here or have already left. Impossible, really, with the calm tranquility of the sea, to say how much time has passed.
I feel another presence in the room.
In fact, I’ve felt if for quite some time.
I turn my head slightly, and I see him, outlined in the dark. Jeremy Stonehart.
I look back out toward the ocean. He does not stir. He watches me, alone in my own thoughts. I know he will not come to me until I give my permission.
Another eternity passes. I feel like I’m witnessing the stretch of a lifetime. Finally, I incline my head, just a little. His arm comes around my waist.
“What happened to you tonight, Lilly?” he asks softly.
I feel the sudden urge to cry and tell him everything: My vulnerability, my consistent doubts. The conflicting thoughts and emotions darting through my head. The way I can love him absolutely one moment and hate him the next. The way I want to hurt him—really hurt him—and make him suffer the same way that I suffered. The dishonesty that I harbor. The web of lies that my life has become.
I want to weep against his chest and confess everything. I want to feel him hold me, to feel his strong hand stroke my hair and hear him tell me that everything will be alright. I want to hear him tell me what I told him: that he is not alone in the world anymore, that he could put his trust in me, that I will be there for him always.
I want to hear him say it. I want those words and vows and promises to apply to me.
Without them, I am breaking. I am drowning in a cesspool of my own creation. I do not blame Jeremy anymore. I’ve been given every opportunity to get out. I’ve made my choice. The choice to remain by him forever.
But the loneliness that comes from that choice is nearly overwhelming. It is suffocating me, restricting me in my thoughts and in my movements. I am not trapped in Stonehart’s mansion anymore, no. I am trapped somewhere much worse.
I am trapped in my own mind.
“Lilly?” Jeremy asks. “Talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Tell me what happened. Why did you come here?”
“Are they gone?” I ask, avoiding his questions. “Are the guests still here?”
“The party wound down long ago,” he says. He takes my hand. “Yes, they’re gone. Is that why you didn’t come upstairs? I waited and waited for you in bed, Lilly. When you didn’t show up, I had to come find you.”
“You knew I was here,” I mutter. “You could have seen me through your cameras.”
Jeremy steps back a little. What pale light comes from the stairs lets me see enough of his face to make out the concern. “I gave those up,” he tells me. “I gave them to you. Remember? I cannot see what goes on in my house anymore.”
“Oh,” I sigh. “That’s right.”
“Something happened after you left. Didn’t it?” Jeremy insists. “Tell me.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to worry him with my troubles. For the moment, it feels better—safer, even—to simply turn a blind eye.
I squeeze his hand and turn away from the window. “Let’s go to bed,” I say.
Chapter Seven
The next morning truly and finally feels like the dawn of a new day.
I feel rested and fresh and clear. The discord of last night is like a distant memory. It’s something that happened a lifetime ago… to another person.
I’m aware that’s not the healthiest attitude to take. But I’ve become the master of self-delusion. Forgetting painful things from my past just comes with the territory of being with Jeremy Stonehart.
Jeremy’s left for work without a word, obviously. I hate how he can wake without rousing me. Not once have I felt him leave. It’s just one of those things where I wake up, and poof, he’s already gone.
I find a short note from him, however, saying that when he returns tonight we’ll talk about my employment at Stonehart Industries and my… capacity for the job.
The ominous imp
lication there—that I’ve become too damaged to return to work—is unsettling. But instead of ruminating on it and letting it ruin the beauty that is outside, I file it away amongst all the other shit I refuse to think about… and go out into the sun.
Spring in California feels wonderful. The fresh crests of the waves at sea crash against the cliffs and bring a delightful aura to the day. Wandering in the woods around Jeremy’s property, I lose track of time.
Only when the sky starts to darken a deep red do I venture back to the mansion.
I find Jeremy alone, reading, at the table. He looks dashing in a radiant silver-grey suit.
He looks up when he hears me enter. He smiles. “And there she is,” he says, with the barest hint of sarcasm. “Finally deemed yourself ready to greet me, have you?”
“Jeremy, stop,” I say, sitting across from him. He reaches out and touches my hand, squeezing once.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say quickly. Too quickly. Too automatically.
He frowns for a split second. “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. How’s Stonehart Industries? I’ve been thinking about the note you left. If I’m going back to work—“
“Tracy told me how she found you,” Jeremy interrupts.
My heart stops. The illusion shatters. And all traces of normalcy are gone.
“What did she say?” I ask weakly.
“Everything,” Jeremy replies. “She told me as she was leaving last night. I wanted you to bring it up on your own. But I could not wait any longer. This is a serious problem, Lilly.”
I hang my head in shame. “I know,” I mutter. Even that admission—simply acknowledging his words—makes me feel like I’ve let Jeremy down, somehow.
“It’s a problem not because of what happened,” he continues softly, his voice endearing him to me in strange and soothing ways, “but because you did not tell me,”
“I didn’t want you to—“
“To what?” His voice is low, but it cuts me off as clearly as if he’s yelling. “To know?”
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 86