That gets him to smile. I just cross my fingers that his smile will still exist after the therapy session.
An hour later, we’re sitting in a waiting room at a busy doctor’s office waiting for Dr. Gardingdale to arrive so we can get this show on the road. Ayden is about a million times more nervous than when he got his tattoo, which is saying a lot. But he’s not the only one that’s so jittery they can’t sit still. It didn’t help that when we left, Fiona blindsided me as I was getting into the car.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said with her hands on her hips.
I caught Ayden’s gaze from over the roof of the car. “Look, Fiona,” I turned to her and lowered my voice, “you can’t tell anyone, okay? This is really important.”
“I know it is. And I know I can’t say anything to anyone, not when this could set Ayden free,” she said simply. “I just wanted to give you a head’s up that Ayden’s going to need you to be calm for him. That it’s important you don’t freak out, even when things look bad.”
For the second time today my jaw nearly hit the ground.
Her words have been stuck inside my head ever since, playing like a scratched record.
“What exactly did Fiona say to you in the driveway?” Ayden asks, leaning closer to me and keeping his voice low.
“It wasn’t important.” I pick up a pamphlet that’s on the table to the side of me to busy myself with something since I can’t seem to sit still.
“But she said she wasn’t going to tell Lila and Ethan, right?’” A flush creeps up on his cheeks as his gaze drops to the pamphlet in my hand. Then he starts bouncing his knee up and down as he averts his gaze to the floor.
“No, she said she knew she couldn’t tell anyone, whatever that means.” I look down at the pamphlet to see what’s causing him to blush. I try not to laugh, because out of all things, I grabbed one about safe sex. Seeing an opportunity to alleviate some of the tension, I decide to tease him a little. “It might have some good tips in there.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Maybe we should read it.”
He massages the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath before elevating his gaze to me. “You think we should?” The blush is still there, but his voice is surprisingly steady.
His unexpected question catches me off guard and I feel my own cheeks warm, which rarely happens. Usually I have mad skills in the chillax department, but just thinking about having sex with Ayden makes my heart go all glowy crazy in my chest like a cracked-out unicorn.
“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the edge of the pamphlet. “Maybe. The other night things did get a little . . .” I rack my brain for the right word that will sum up what happened Saturday night, but then decide to be funny, because we need funny right now. “Bow chicka bow wow.”
He snorts a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“You’re okay with what happened, right? I mean, I know that was a huge step for you.” I fold and unfold the pamphlet, feeling super fidgety. “I just don’t ever want to push you into doing stuff.”
“Lyric, I swear to God I’m fine.” His expression grows intense, his gaze boring into me. “You’ve never, ever have pushed me into doing anything that I didn’t want to do.” He blows out a frustrated exhale. “You’ve always been so patient with me, even when you shouldn’t have to be.”
I slip my fingers through his. “Ayden, I love you. Being with you is amazing. It’s not about having to do stuff. It’s about wanting to.”
He nods his head up and down, his gaze dropping to the pamphlet in my free hand. “Still, it’s getting easier . . . I mean, with the intimate stuff.”
I lock eyes with him. “How much easier?” My voice is steady, but my heart’s an erratic mess.
He opens his mouth to answer, and dear God, I’m eager to hear what’s about to leave those lips of his, but an older dude wearing a bright-ass orange tie and tan slacks enters the waiting room, and Ayden instantly jumps to his feet.
“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” Dr. Gardingdale asks Ayden, tucking his briefcase underneath his arm.
Ayden shakes his head. “Not too long.”
“Good. Good.” Dr. Gardingdale seems nervous, his gaze flicking back and forth between Ayden and me. “It’s nice to see you again, Lyric.”
Ayden reaches back, grabs my hand, and pulls me to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”
“It’s fine,” he says, waving at us to follow him as he heads toward the door near the front desk. “Ayden talks very highly of you, Lyric. And it might be good that you’re here. You seem to have a calming effect on him.”
My gaze slides to Ayden. “Do you talk about me with him?” I’m not offended. Just curious what he could possibly have to say about me while he’s in therapy.
He lifts his shoulders and shrugs. “You’re a huge part of my life. Of course I talk about you.” He holds the door open for me, looking a little sheepish. “Besides, like he said, you have this crazy calming effect on me, so whenever I get too stressed, I just start talking about you.”
That makes me smile. I stand on my tiptoes, give him a quick kiss, then tuck the pamphlet into the back pocket of my shorts. He totally notices and his cheeks flush a deep red.
“You’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed,” I say, taking his hand as we follow Dr. Gardingdale down the hallway lined with rooms.
“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, his cheeks still pink. “Because I find it really fucking annoying.”
I kiss his cheek just because I can.
When we reach a room at the end of the hallway, Dr. Gardingdale motions us inside, then closes the door. It looks like a normal check-up room; plain white walls that surround a bed, a blood pressure machine, and a couple of chairs.
“We’re going to hook you up to the monitors so we can keep track of your heart rate while you’re out,” Dr. Gardingdale explains as Ayden sits down on the bed. “Dr. Milleperton is also going to be putting in an IV as well so we can inject the sedative.”
“An IV?” I ask in shock. “Is that really necessary?”
“This is an extreme treatment that requires some mild medication,” Dr. Gardingdale says as he sets his briefcase on the counter near the sink. Then he turns to Ayden. “Now, are you positive you want to do this?” he asks. “Because there’s still time to change your mind.”
Ayden lies down, resting his arms on his stomach. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
My heart speeds up, thrashing in my chest.
Tell me what I’m supposed to do
To make this ache go away.
A gnawing warning in my heart,
Begging me to listen.
Soft whispers through my mind.
Tell me a story of where this is heading.
Tell me a story of my life without him.
Dark colors, no light, pure emptiness,
That’s what the whispers promise me.
I’ve never been so confused,
So lost before.
When the doctor comes in and hooks the IV and heart monitor to Ayden, I consider texting Aunt Lila. Consider running out of the room and bailing on the situation because I’m freaking out. But this isn’t about me. This isn’t about how I feel. This is about Ayden.
So, I take his hand, trying to be there for him the only way I can. “I love you,” I whisper. “So much.”
“I love you . . . too . . .” He trails off as he slips into unconsciousness.
“TRY TO KEEP YOUR MIND clear,” Dr. Gardingdale says as my hazy mind bounces back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness.
“I’ll . . . try . . .” My lips feel so numb, like they’re detached from my face. In fact, my entire body feels like it doesn’t exist.
“Good. Now try to picture the house you were kept in, if you can.” Dr. Gardingdale’s voice sounds like it comes from somewhere nearby, but I can’t tell where he is—where anyone is. “But I don’t want you to p
ush yourself too hard, Ayden. If at any moment you feel like this is too much, just let me know.”
“Okay . . .”
Where’s Lyric? I want to say. I want to see her. Want to make sure she’s okay. She looked so worried the last time I saw her.
But I can’t see a damn thing. Can’t feel anything. I just exist in an ocean of darkness threatening to pull me under the violent waves. I try to fight, try to keep above water, but eventually I succumb and have no choice but to go . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Images flash through my mind, memories long forgotten of my brother, my sister, and myself. We’re playing at the park, stealing candy from the gas station, painting the rocks in our yard to look like a rainbow, racing through the grassy field to the side of our home.
Then the memories shift away from my home life. I see myself in school, hanging out with my friends, and the time I walked home with Lacey Marlleron, a girl I had a crush on when I was thirteen. I relive getting into trouble when I was caught shoplifting. I see myself fighting with my mom over wanting to see my father. Fighting with my brother when I stole his skateboard and broke it. Fighting with Sadie over the bowl of cereal.
I see it all . . .
A life lost . . .
I see the fall . . .
That leads me straight to where the darkness all began . . .
And I plummet straight into it . . .
“You want to see?” Someone whispers in my ear. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll take the blindfold off and let you look at your new home.”
I start to tell them no, that I don’t want to see anything ever again, but I have duct tape over my mouth. I want to scream. Beg them to tell me where my sister and brother are. I try to move, wanting to run the fuck away from this place, but metal cuffs bind my hands, and I’m weak from dehydration and starvation.
“Don’t fight the pain, Ayden.” Fingernails pierce into my hands, and I feel a warm trail of blood trickle down my skin. “The pain is the easy part.”
I scream through the tape and kick my feet. Stop. Touching. Me.
I’m so sick of being touched. I never want to be touched again.
But she puts her hands on me again, letting them wander, before she removes the blindfold from my eyes and rips the tape off my mouth. “Open your eyes and meet your home.”
I shake my head. No. I won’t do it. Won’t do what she tells me.
She stabs her nails into my hands again, this time deeper. Searing pain shoots up my arms and rips through my body, and I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood.
“Open your eyes,” she warns, digging her nails even deeper.
I feel pathetically weak as I give into her request and open my eyes.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the light of day in who knows how long. But with the dark curtains hanging over all the windows, hardly any light flows through the room covered in strange circular symbols. The carpet has stains on it, red stains that look like blood, and so much dust and dampness is in the air that it’s hard to breathe.
“Hello, Ayden.” A man is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, and he smiles at me. “It’s been a long time.”
What? Who the hell is this guy?
“You’re probably wondering who I am,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his stained shirt. “I was hoping you’d remember, but from the look on your face, I’m guessing that’s not the case.”
I eye him over, noting that he has the same eyes and hair color as me. A chill goes down my spine and my feeble body trembles.
“It’s not really your fault. It’s your mother’s. She knew the deal when she had you—that she was supposed to raise you with the knowledge of who I am, then hand you over when it was time—but clearly, things didn’t happen that way,” he continues, snapping his fingers as he glances to my right. “Don’t worry, though. I’m about to take care of it.”
I turn my head to see what he’s looking at and my gut churns.
“Please don’t do this, Jerry,” begs my mother as a woman with bright red hair and fingernails violently shoves her into the room. My mom trips over her gashed up bare feet and falls forward. With her hands bound, her face slams against the dirty carpet. Instead of getting up, she sobs, her body wrenching. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything if you just let me go.”
“No more bargains.” The man rises to his feet and stalks toward her. “Your bargains aren’t worth anything.”
She lifts her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I gave you our children, didn’t I? Just like I promised I would.”
I forget how to breathe. How to think. Our children? That means . . .
“Dad?” I gape at the man, horrified and disgusted.
He glances at me, and even though his eyes are like mine, they look unfamiliar, cold. Without saying anything, he grabs my mother by the arm, drags her to the chair, and pushes her down, then kneels in front of her.
“I know I gave you the children to take care of, but you haven’t been raising them how we discussed. They know nothing about us or our beliefs.” He exchanges a look with the red-haired woman, and she grins before rushing down the hallway. He focuses back on my mother, gripping onto her legs. “When I gave you the money to take care of them, I specifically remember stressing how important it was that you taught them about our way of life and about the sacrifice they’d be taking part in. But after talking to them, I see you haven’t even told them who I am.”
“I can give you the money back.” A hysterical sob wrenches from my mother. “Just let me give you back the money.”
“Give me the money back?” He cackles, a sound that sends an icy chill through my body. “We both know you spent that money on drugs a long, long time ago.”
“I can borrow some from someone if you’ll just let me go.” When he remains silent, she cries, “Please, Jerry!”
“I have a better idea,” he says as the woman with red hair returns to the room.
“No . . . No . . . No . . .” Tears pour out of my mother’s eyes as the woman hands my dad a syringe.
“What’s the matter?” He snatches hold of my mother’s arm and twists her wrist. “I thought this is what you wanted? That you’ll do anything to get your hands this.”
“Leave her alone!’ I shout, trying to wiggle my hands free from the cuffs. The metal bites against my wrists as I struggle and the scratches on my hand burn. But I keep fighting, refusing to sit here and watch him hurt her.
The woman in the corner snickers then sits down beside me. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about it being over for my mom or for me. It doesn’t matter. I can’t let either happen. I have to be strong.
“Just let her go and I’ll do whatever you want. Learn about you and your ways,” I plead with my dad as tears stream down my face.
“Oh, I know you will. But I can’t have your mother messing that up for me. There was a lot of planning that went into bringing you, Sadie, and Felix into this world. You were supposed to be ready for the sacrifice. It wasn’t supposed to be such a fight. You were supposed to be ready to cleanse your soul.” He looks at my mom then plunges the needle into her forearm.
I tell myself he just injected her with drugs. That she’ll wake up like she always does whenever she shoots up. But as her body slumps to the floor, her skin turns sickly white. Her eyes open and veins map her rapidly paling skin.
A blood-curdling scream rips from my chest. “No!”
“Wake up, Ayden,” someone says. “You need to wake up.”
I desperately try to open my eyes, try to blink the image of my dead mother away, but all I see is her lying on that bloodstained carpet where she took her last breath.
“Open your eyes, Ayden . . . Please . . .”
I’m trying. I’m really am.
Please, please let me get out of here.
Please don’t let me die in this place.<
br />
I ZONE OFF AS I hold Ayden’s hand, recollecting every moment we spent together. It’s funny, but when I really analyze our past, I can see that I fell in love with him way before I realized it.
That revelation puts a smile on my face. Then Ayden’s body gives a hard jerk, and I’m yanked back to reality.
“Wake up, Ayden,” Dr. Gardingdale says, rushing up to the side of the bed. “You need to wake up.”
Ayden’s body spasms and his eyelids start fluttering as if he’s trying to wake up, but can’t get his eyes open. Then the heart monitor starts beeping and panic skyrockets through my body as my worst fears are right in front of me.
“Open your eyes, Ayden . . . Please . . .” I beg, gripping onto his hand.
Please don’t let me lose him.
Don’t take him away from me.
Just let me close my eyes
And pretend this is all a dream.
Dr. Gardingdale tells me to move out of the way, and I sink down in the chair. I’ve read information about this treatment, and my mind races with all the horrible things that could potentially happen. He could go into shock. Suffer from heart failure. Or worse, completely lose his memory,
What if he forgets everything?
Everything is moving in fast motion as the doctor starts talking medical talk while he injects something into Ayden’s IV. I try to stay calm like Fiona said, but then the word “coma” comes out of the doctor’s mouth and something inside me shatters. Tears stream out of my eyes as I slip out of the room to call Aunt Lila, knowing it’s the right thing to do.
“Wait, Lyric, slow down,” she says as I sputter out what happened. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
I take a few measured breaths, trying to pull myself together. “A-Ayden did the treatment—the one you d-didn’t want him to do. We’re at a doctor’s office down on First and Peach Way Lane. You need to get down here.”
“He did what?” she exclaims. “Lyric, please, tell me he’s okay.”
“Just get down here, okay?” I tell her as the door behind me opens. Dr. Gardingdale steps out and motions for me to come back in. My chest tightens and air is ripped from my lungs. “Is he okay?” I ask him.
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