by Finn, Emilia
“You let him in?”
“Of course.” I set my tea down and pull my sweater sleeves lower so they cover my hands. “He’s a good guy. He’s the kind of friend every girl should have in her life.”
“A friend… Okay.”
“So I let him in and tried to explain away the already worked on car. He offered me a sandwich, and since I’d forgotten to eat breakfast, I realized I was starving.”
She looks up with a smile. “You ate with him? This is good, Laine. This is an improvement.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrug. “I ate my food. We chatted, remembered old times.”
“You guys have a lot of history?”
“Yeah. Like I said, he’s been around forever. We chatted, and it was okay; I laughed about old memories, fun weekends, parties, silly lies I’ve told the other guys. I wasn’t freaking, but then, I dunno, I ate my meatball sub, spilled a little on my pants, cleaned it up. We were talking about when we were younger, then I caught a glimpse of blood on my bandage.”
“Blood on your bandage?” No longer smiling, she sits forward and stares at my covered hands. “Have your stitches opened up?”
“No. It was meatball sauce, but it was weird. Like a loop in my brain; I saw the sauce, I saw Graham. I saw the shower and a kitchen knife. I saw the eyes of men I don’t remember.” Shivers slide along my spine. “I needed to wash up, get the blood off, get the men off.” Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, I slow my words before I freak myself out again. “Um… I think it’s worse, because I don’t know who all the men were. There were so many, it was so dark, I was so numb to it, I could probably walk by one of them in the store and not recognize them.” It makes me dizzy. Makes me sick. “They’ll go to work tomorrow, they’ll go to the store, they’ll kiss their babies and send them to school, and I won’t know. They don’t have nightmares, but they’re the cause of mine.”
Our eyes meet: hers are steely, mine are red and itchy. “Maybe I teach some of their kids. He might come in for a parent teacher conference, and he’ll know. He’ll know it’s me, but I won’t know it’s him. I stopped looking at their faces a long time ago. I stopped looking, because I didn’t want more faces in my nightmares.”
“Okay.” Gently, she sits back and allows me time to breathe. To scratch at my dirty arms. “Slow it down. Allow yourself to feel, but don’t allow them to hurt you anymore.”
I drag in a deep breath to hide my fear. She doesn’t want me to feel the pain anymore, but I can’t help it. The faceless strangers scare the shit out of me. One of them could be my post man, or maybe he works in Jonah’s store.
The pizza delivery guy.
Sonia’s male assistant.
I could brush shoulders with any one of the men that took advantage of me, and I wouldn’t know.
“Angelo noticed I was upset. Obviously. I wasn’t very subtle. He came over to help, and I just…” I sigh. “I lost it. I didn’t need his help, and I definitely didn’t want him to touch me.”
“You said he’s your friend, that he’s been around forever. Why don’t you want him to touch you?”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “Because dirty hands still touch me. In my mind, they touch me, they hurt me. They pull my hair and pinch my skin. So when he touches, his is the face in my mind. In the club.” My breath comes out on a choked shudder. “I don’t want to make him them. I don’t want to create that association, because he’s my friend and so few men in this world are nice. I don’t want to remember back to our happy times and replace a kind, gentle man with a monster. I don’t want to make him someone I’m scared of.” Tears track over my cheeks and land on my lap. “He’s a good person. He’s pure and kind and would step in front of a bus to protect me, so rather than make him into a monster in my nightmares, it’s probably easier if he doesn’t come around anymore.” I use my sleeve to swipe my cheek dry. “He’s better to be left in my mind as the guy that saved me a billion times. We don’t need to create new memories that are tainted with Graham. We should just keep the old, because they’re pure.”
Sonia slides the tissue box across the table and sits back. “You don’t want him in your life anymore? Did you speak to your sister and Kane about your feelings? That’s their home, and if you’re uncomfortable with one of their guests, you should speak to them about it. They’re trying to provide you with a safe space, but they can’t know what hurts you if you don’t tell them.”
“No.” I bring a tissue to my nose. “It’s not his fault I’m a freak. It’s not his fault I can’t separate what happened before and what’s happening now. He’s friends with Jess and Kane, too, and I can’t make them dump a good friend just because I can’t keep my shit under control.”
My head aches. A new day, more tears, another headache. “It’s just best if I stay away. This is my problem. My fault. Not his.”
When I walk out of Sonia’s office at the end of my hour, Jess tosses her magazine aside and moves toward me.
She ignores my splotchy face and barely dried tears, takes my hand, and falls into step. “How’d it go? Have an epiphany? Meet Matt Damon?”
“No.” I clutch at her hand and walk through the heavy front doors. “But I’m not being sent to the crazy house today.”
She rolls her eyes. “You were always the dramatic one. Do you wanna go to Dixie’s? The old bitch got new flavors this week, so even though we hate her, we’re willing to become traitors and step into the enemy camp just so we can try it out. We’ll flip her off on the way out to make ourselves feel better.”
We walk to Kane’s big truck and climb in with grunts and swears about why a guy must lift his truck so high.
“Umm, actually…” I wait until she fastens her seatbelt. “I was thinking… it’s probably time I move back into my apartment.”
“Ha!” She switches on the ignition and pushes the truck into gear. “Nice try, Baby, but you aren’t leaving me. Twins fo’ life, remember? We swam in the same vagina water for nine whole months. We’re gonna be eighty and living together.”
“You can’t possibly want me being your third wheel.” I turn to her as the big truck pulls onto the street. “You must want privacy with Kane.”
“Um, no. Because when you leave, Eric will come back. Either way, I still don’t get to bang on the kitchen counter.”
“Ew.”
“And if I have to choose between house guests, I mean, Eric’s a cool dude, but I choose you. You don’t make dad jokes or leave sweaty gym socks on the bathroom floor.”
I scrunch my lips. “Ew.”
14
Laine
Visitor In The Dark
“Come on, Lainie. It’ll be fun, I promise.” Graham crushes my hand in his and drags me across the street toward a club with bodies spilling out the door.
“I wanna go home.” I attempt to pull my hand free. I’m mad at him, because it’s my best friend’s birthday dinner, but am I there? No. I’m here, because Graham demands we do what he wants to do. I’m surrounded by brothers that like to keep us locked in towers, and yet, Graham’s guilt game is strong. “I don’t feel like going out tonight. I wanna go home and call Britt.”
“You’re not calling her!” He spins in the middle of the street. “I said no. And you wanna know why? Because those friends are no good for you. They’re trouble. You didn’t see the shit on TV with that girl? You didn’t see her man fucking around on her?”
“He wasn’t fucki–”
“He made her look like a fool! Why would you want to associate with that trash?”
“I don’t–”
“I said no.” With eyes I had no clue could look so cold, he squeezes my hand to control my movements. “Why do you purposely disobey me? I’m only trying to create a good life for you. We work hard, we live privately.”
“You don’t understand!”
“No, Lainie, you don’t understand. I know this is bumfuck in the back of nowhere. I know friendships are tight and activities are simple, but you didn’
t choose these friends because they’re good. You simply had no other choices.”
“That’s not true!”
He tugs me forward. “Now you have choices. You love me, Lainie. You said you love me. Why don’t you trust me on this? If you don’t trust me, then what kind of relationship do we really have?”
“Gray! Welcome back.”
“Hey.” The men step toward each other – the three-hundred-pound bouncer, and the one-seventy-five real estate agent – and clap shoulders.
“Watching, or showing?”
“Showing.” Graham’s smile practically glows. “It’s time. She’s up tonight.”
“Oh, girl.” The man watches me with a twinkle in his eyes. “‘Bout damn time. What’s the buy in?”
“One each.”
“One hundy?”
“Get the fuck outta here. A grand.”
“Fuck me, you got royalty there? Pure? Diamond encrusted? What the fuck you got that’s worth a whole grand?”
Graham pulls me past the leering man and through a dark door. “I guess you’ll find out when you show up with the cash.”
I push up in bed with tears in my eyes and an aching body. Struggling to catch my breath, I shove my blankets aside and trip toward the bedroom door.
I crack it open just enough to glimpse into the dark hall, and my pulse thrums at all the boogeyman potential. No time to stop, I stumble across the hall and push into the shared bathroom. Flipping the lights on and rushing to the sink, I crush my eyes closed and turn on the taps. The bright lights still hurt my eyes, but I can’t stand in the dark.
I can’t do that.
I cup my hands under the icy cold water and splash it over my face. The frigid shock is a welcome distraction, it gives me something else to focus on, something other than the ache that throbs between my legs.
Tears burn my eyes, and like a trail of shame, they slide over my cheeks, boiling hot against the water’s cold.
“It’s done.” I drag in long, deep breaths. “It’s done. I’m not at the apartment. I’m not at Graham’s. I’m not at that club.”
Memories of a club named Infernos burning down late last year replace the twinkle of a gold tooth in that bouncer’s smirk. Flames melting thick steel beams replace the gleam of Graham’s smile when we stepped into one of the ‘show’ rooms.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.” I pump soap into my hands and slide my fingers together. I was hurt in that club, and when I said no more, I learned firsthand how scary it was to have a knife pressed to my throat.
Do as you’re told, you dirty little bitch.
I used to be strong; strong willed, strong minded, strong bodied.
But each time I said no, their threats got meaner until they placed a loaded gun in my mouth and dared me to say it again.
The day that club burned down, the day Angelo ran through flames to save me, the way he was brandishing a scary gun and throwing me around the way others had in the past should have scared me.
He stood guard outside with that gun in his hand, his muscles bulging, while we waited for Jess and Kane to come out.
That gun should have terrified me, but it didn’t.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” I pump more soap into my hands and start again.
Think about Jess. Think about Kane, because he’s a scary marshmallow. Think about the pretty car I might call Wanda.
My hands grow rougher until my nails dig into my skin and leave red tracks.
Think about the cows – those we tipped, those we let escape, those we now consider a pet.
I need to pull myself together.
I need to fucking stop!
Sonia hasn’t sent me away yet because she only sees half of my crazy. She doesn’t see my middle of the night freak outs. She doesn’t see the tracks of blood along my arms from my nails, or the gross scabs on my stitches because I continue to pick and wash.
Pick and wash.
Pick and wash.
I slam the taps off with a cry, then work the hand towel over them until my cracked knuckles bleed. Too much washing means they’re so dried out, they crack.
Which makes them bleed.
Which makes them dirty.
Which makes me wash them again.
I toss the white towel into the hamper and purposely ignore the blood smears. Pushing into the hall, instead of going to my room, instead of going downstairs to get a drink, I race to Jess’ door and pray they’re decent. I ignore the light switch and use the moonlight shining through the window to lead my way.
I know which side of the bed is Jess’, but even if they switched sides, I don’t even care.
Miraculously, Kane doesn’t scare me.
“Jessie?” I push her shoulder. “Jessie! Wake up. Ah!” Pain screams through my wrist when a strong hand yanks my arm back.
I cry out when he folds my arm behind my back, but with a “Motherfuck!” the lamps switch on and the hand releases me. “Laine?” Kane sits up in bed with a gun in his left hand and his right on Jess’ hip. “Fuck, woman! What the hell are you thinking?”
“Laine?” Jess sits up and pulls the covers over her bare chest. “You wanna snug?”
“Blondie! You’re not gonna ask about her attacking you in your sleep? Just gonna flip straight to snuggling? Fuck.” He pulls his blankets higher, forcing a deep blush to cover my face.
“Oh my God. You’re both naked.” I stand and back away. “Ew. Okay.”
“Ew?” Stopping, Kane draws in a shaky breath as though to pull his anger under control. “Okay, hold on.” Turning, he slams the dangerous gun on the bedside table and runs a rough hand over his face. “Fuck. You got my adrenaline running. I’m not the kinda guy you wanna sneak up on in the middle of the night.”
“I wasn’t sneaking on you. I’m here for Jess!”
“I’m not the kinda guy who’ll allow his girl to be snuck up on either. Fuck!”
“Laine?” Jess reaches across the bed and snags an oversized shirt to cover herself up. “Baby?” She pulls me down until I become her little spoon on the edge of the mattress. “What happened?”
I close my eyes at the sound of blankets moving. At the sound of footsteps on the floor. At clothes rustling.
Softly, Jess strokes her pointer finger over my forehead and folds her body around mine. “Tell me, Baby.”
“I had a nightmare.”
She nods. They come all the time now, so it’s not shocking anymore. Not a surprise. Just an unfortunate side effect of knowing Graham.
“We were in the club and he…” I shrug. Surprisingly, I think I’m desensitizing myself to what happened. Maybe Sonia is onto something; talk it out, speak of it so often, it becomes a recitation, an emotionless story, rather than something that hurts me. “He sold me. One thousand dollars per man.”
“Oh, Baby…”
“Graham made a fortune, and I lost count of how many men have touched me.”
“I want to kill him,” she growls in my ear. “I want to cut his fucking dick off and make him eat it.”
“I want to tell Ang I’m sorry for freaking on him.”
“You–” She stops. “Huh?” She leans up onto her elbow and glances over me until her long hair tickles my face. “Ang?”
“I panicked, so I need to tell him I’m sorry.”
“Okay… Well.” She reaches over to the bedside table and snatches up her cell. Swiping screens and entering the passcode, she passes me the cell that has a picture of me and Luc as her screensaver. “Text him, then he can wake up to something nice.”
I balance perilously on the edge of my sister’s bed and turn so we’re nose to nose. “He ran through flames to get to me.”
“Ang?”
I hold the cell between us. “Yeah. He had a gun that I didn’t know he owned, he was so scary and in control, then he picked me up and threw me around. He didn’t stop just because I cried. He just picked me up and carried me out.”
“You mean when the club was
burning? The day that–” Her voice cracks. The day that Kane died. “Did you dream about that day? Did you dream about Ang?”
“No.” I squeeze my eyes closed and sigh when a tear escapes. “I dreamed of Graham. I dreamed of scary guns and bad things, but then I woke up and went to the bathroom, and while I was in there, I told myself to think of Ang. Of the gun. The fire. All really scary things. Worse when you put them together. But Ang saved me. He always saves me.”
She nods. You’d never know she was deep asleep a minute ago. “Ang is a good guy. He’ll always drive around cleaning our shit up.” She lets out a muted giggle. “How many times did we cruise in that damn Charger and shush each other so Luc and the other guys wouldn’t know what we were doing?”
“Even though they were across town, so shushing was pointless.”
She laughs. Tangling her legs with mine beneath the blankets, she strokes my hand. “Tell him his ban is lifted. Tell him you’re not mad at him.”
“I never said he was banned.” I frown. “And I didn’t say I was mad at him. He thinks I’m mad at him?”
She shrugs and goes back to stroking my face. “I bet he’d like a text either way.”
I unclasp my hands and check the time. “It’s nearly time to get up.”
She lets out a man-sized yawn. “What time is it?”
“Four-forty-five.”
She snorts. “That’s not almost time to get up. I barely even slept yet.”
“You went to bed before I did. You’ve been in here for hours.” When she flashes a filthy smile, my face burns red. Somehow, Graham turned me into a virginal prude. “Ew. Hours? Ew!”
“Haters gonna hate, Baby. Send your text then get the hell out of my bed. My man’s awake, I’m awake.”
“You’re sick. And you promised you would sleep with me. What happened with that?”
“Bros before hoes, Baby. He’s got the D, and I’m not into the V.”
Ew.