Incomplete

  He was shouting and holding something, a tool. My stapler.

  I watched it fly from his hands. It connected with my forehead and I felt myself fall from the porcelain, my head smacking into something hard before everything went black.

  My eyes opened in a bright room, a pounding at the forefront of my temples. I was in the infirmary, surrounded by gray stone walls and white sheets, a glass of water on the table next to me. A nurse appeared wearing blue scrubs.

  “Ms. Hanson, you had quite the fall. How are you feeling?” She lifted my wrist, wrapping a black band around my upper arm and using the stethoscope around her neck to listen to the pulsing. She watched me as she counted, a look I couldn’t discern. “I’m sure you have a headache. I would give you some Tylenol, but it appears you’re already medicated against…” she picked the clipboard off of my side table, “Well, everything.” She folded the paper over, “Can you tell me why you decided to mix all of your pills together?”

  I stared at her. I’d been taking handfuls of pills for the last several weeks, hoping enough of them would act as a birth control replacement, feeling guilty for the number of times I’d asked Elin to send Plan B. I was aware enough to remember the warning I got from Rosenburg about an anti-psychotic messing with my cycle. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  She frowned, “Well it looked like you’d dumped them all out, shaken them around and then put them back in the bottles.”

  I mixed them on the outside, yes, but I never messed with the actual bottles. Maverick would have given me an 8-hour lecture. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Would I?

  She sighed, “I’ve been in contact with your psychiatrist. She wants to see you over the holiday break.”

  “When…” I paused, “When is the holiday break?”

  The nurse eyed me warily, “Next week, Celeste.”

  I let my head fall back against the pillow. I was almost there. I just had to make it to the train. And then the airplane.

  “How long can I stay here?” My voice broke.

  “Through tonight, at least.” She set a small cup down on the nightstand, “This is what your regular dosage is. I’m giving it to you to keep you from going through withdrawal, but I think you need rehab, Celeste.”

  I nodded. I needed a lot more than rehab.

  That night I woke up screaming, the hands of the nurse gripping my upper arms tightly, “WAKE UP! CELESTE WAKE UP!”

  I was sweating and shaking, my breathing coming in gasps.

  “You were having a nightmare,” the nurse said, putting a hand over her chest, “Scared me half to death.”

  I could still see the frozen lake. The blue mitten with the perfect white snowflakes. And a woman’s voice, gentle and kind. Stay still.

  The nurse asked me more questions that I couldn’t answer. “We’ll have to keep you several more days, I think.” She sighed, “I’ll let your teachers know tomorrow.”

  I rolled over and stared at the stone wall, forcing the dream away and bringing a better one forward.

  Maverick.

  It was the summer before freshman year. Maverick was heading to Switzerland, to a castle in the mountains. He didn’t want to go, he’d said.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  He nudged me with his shoulder, sitting on the edge of our pool with his legs in the water. “You could come with.”

  “I don’t belong at a school like that.”

  He was silent, looking out over the water, “You’re smarter than you let on, Celeste.”

  My heart had fluttered in my chest. Did he really think that? I’d looked at him from the corner of my eyes, not wanting him to know that I was watching. Maverick had no reason to be nice to me, but he always was. He turned then and my head shot forward, trying to be casual. His fingers touched my cheek, bringing my face back to look at him. He leaned forward, eyes watching mine. “This might be my last chance,” he said then.

  “To do what?” I breathed.

  “To kiss you.”

  “So, what are you waiting for?”

  He smiled and his lips met mine, slowly, nervously. It was perfect. The weather was warm, the sun shining on the clear water. There was no one else I’d have wanted my first kiss from.

  When he pulled away from me, his eyes were a perfect cerulean blue.

  “I want you to come with me,” he said, brushing the hair from my face, “I’ll help you with your classes.”

  “Okay.” I bit my bottom lip, and his hand came up, dislodging it from under my teeth.

  “You’re gonna be alright, Ace.”

  Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face.

  Winter

  Chapter 22

  Maverick

  Celeste’s bedroom window was visible from my backyard, roughly an acre away, but in the last two days since I’d been home, the heavy white curtain hadn’t moved. Her room was on the second floor of her father’s castle. Their mansion was an ode to medieval architecture, made of giant stone piled into pointed towers. The back half of the house gave off a specifically princess type of vibe, with Celeste’s window framed in by a columned balcony, snow covered ivy crawling up the walls. In the spring flowers bloomed on the vines that wrapped around her balcony, filling the air with a sweet scent that always took me back. The house was cold, formidable, like an impenetrable fortress. The halls were too wide, the rooms ranging between ornate, gaudy decoration and bare, stark walls. It was eerily quiet most days, vacant of even the hum of a heater or an air conditioner. Celeste grew up walking barefoot down cold marble steps, moving like a shadow in the dark spaces of a museum, unable to enjoy anything around her without being scolded by a nanny. She spent most of her time at our house, curling herself up into one of our thousands of blankets, sitting in front of roaring fires, and eating dinner at our small, rectangular table.

  I tore my gaze from the window and saw the white haze of my breath in the air.

  Tonight was the Annual Hanson Christmas Party and I was waiting by the covered pool, snow around my shiny black shoes, my body humming with rage induced energy. Carole, Celeste’s mother, had insisted on not having any visitors and when I’d tried to call, the phone went straight to voice mail. I kept my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, wishing I’d grabbed a coat before heading outside. The forecast tonight called for snow, and the night sky had an eerie gray tinge to it.

  Last I’d heard Celeste had been in the Academy infirmary the week before she came home. Carol was outraged, according to my mother, because she’d failed her last semester and there was no way she was going to graduate on time.

  The fucking infirmary. What the fuck was she doing there? Detox?

  I checked the time on my phone, we still had about ten minutes before my mom would finally tear herself away from her laptop long enough to walk the short distance over to Celeste’s house. I had a few missed texts from Mia, which I ignored, and one from Noah.

  Noah: They set the hearing for January 15th. Don’t know what we’d have done without you, man. Thanks

  I smiled. Finally, some good fucking news.

  According to the Yale Press, James had stumbled into the police department covered in blood, crying that he wanted to confess. He was behind bars, probably experiencing something similar to what he’d done to Jonah. His defense team had nothing. They were going to lose the trial, Josh was going to win, and the motherfucker would be behind bars for at least 20 years.

  Abel Lockwood poked his head out of one of the white French doors and I shivered, “Would you prefer to come through the front door with us, or shimmy up the tailpipe like you did when you were twelve?”

  I didn’t want to admit that I’d considered it, wondering if it would hold the extra hundred pounds of weight I’d put on since then. I grinned, shoving my hands in my pockets, and following him back through the house.

  Luxury vehicles lined the street, the fumes from the exhaust making the air smell like a mo
nster truck rally. The Hanson Castle glittered with huge bulbs of yellow light in lines up and down the massive exterior. A wreath bigger than my dorm room hung above the archway to the front door, a giant red bow folded in the center. Two men wearing black suits and white gloves opened the huge mahogany door for us, their faces unsmiling in the frigid weather as they pulled on the two metal circlets being used as a door handle.

  The party was already in full swing, people with cocktails wearing red and white floating through the house and laughing too keenly at each other’s jokes. It was chilly, despite the fire raging on the far side of the great entryway and the number of people crowding the space. It smelled like cinnamon and pinecone, a scent that I’m sure had been carefully considered by the hostess to set the stage for a great party. My parents floated away from me, catching the eyes of friends they spotted, possibly looking for Carole.

  I spotted Jack Hanson almost immediately. He was standing on the furthest wall of the room, leaning against the marble fireplace, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. He was wearing a navy suit and leather shoes, his golden blonde hair smoothed away from his face in a perfect arc. When he saw me, he crossed the room, a broad, CEO grin on his face. “Maverick, my boy,” he said, his giant arm hanging over my shoulders, “You should have told me you wanted to be a Bulldog, I could have you signed with a professional team in a week.”

  “I’m still only a freshman, sir.” I said, hoping he didn’t detect the hate in my voice. Hanson was still a few inches taller than me, but I was catching up.

  “You’ll move up quickly, you always do,” he said.

  “Where’s Celeste?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her yet. There were too many people and they all seemed to be moving in a way that kept her perfectly hidden.

  Jack’s arm slid off of me and he looked around, “No idea. Around, somewhere.” He took a drink of whisky, “Maybe you can set her straight while you’re here,” he said to me quietly, then he was gone, across the floor to talk to another associate.

  I took a deep breath and surveyed the area again. A crowd of people moved like fish in water, parting only for a moment.

  I spotted her and all the air was sucked out of the atmosphere.

  She was huddled in a corner by herself, looking more like a model skeleton in a biology classroom than a person.

  I shoved through the throng of people as quickly as I could, coming to stand directly, in front of her. She flinched when I popped into her vision and that ever-friendly hot ball of rage rolled through my stomach. She was drowning in her red sweater, the cups of her bra were practically hollow underneath, and it was weirdly noticeable. Her green eyes were complete and total mist, shifting into a murky gray, and they were sunken in her skull, emphasized by dark purple splotches. “What the fuck, Celeste?” I said to her quietly.

  She blinked up at me, her expression completely empty. She had a glass of something in her hand, but it went untouched. The liquid was shaking, and I realized her hand was trembling. I took the glass and set it on the table next to us. I touched her elbow and she flinched away from me again. “Celeste, I think we need to go sit down.”

  Her murky eyes watched me, flitting from one side of my face to the other and her lips trembled, “Mav?” She squeaked in a tiny voice.

  She looked so lost.

  I had no words. She leaned forward then, her forehead falling to my shoulder, “Mav I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.” She gasped into my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around her tightly, sticking my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. It was thin, stringy, and dull, not at all like I remembered it.

  “Come on, let’s go into the other room,” I said into her hair, turning and leading her out of the main hall and into the study. I sat her down on the wide leather couch, never letting up on my hold of her. She felt lifeless against my side, her body nearly falling over with the effort to stay upright. I held her by the arms, bringing my hands up to cup either side of her face, “What’s going on?”

  She blinked several times but didn’t answer, scanning my face over and over.

  “Celeste?”

  She seemed almost catatonic.

  “What the fuck are you on?” I asked, more to myself than to her.

  “What holiday is this?” She asked in a hollow voice.

  “Christmas.”

  “I don’t remember this one.”

  I studied her expression, “It isn’t a memory, Celeste. It’s happening right now.”

  She blinked. “You’re really here?”

  “Yeah, and so are you.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she fell forward into me. She sobbed into my neck, her head in her hands. I clenched my jaw tightly, fighting down the rage bubbling into my throat and trying to focus enough to get a clear reason to find Eli and beat the absolute fuck out of him. What the fuck had happened to her in 6 fucking months? This was worse than a normal breakup. I’d never seen Celeste come out of a breakup, but I knew it wouldn’t be like this.

  I closed my eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

  Her hands were shaking violently against her face, “I can’t…” she whispered.

  “Did you and Eli break up?”

  She shook her head.

  I scowled, “And why isn’t he here comforting you from whatever happened?” It was a low blow, and definitely not something I needed to bring up in her current state, but the sting of losing her to that fuckwad was still somehow fresh.

  Celeste lifted her head and the look she gave me turned my whole body to ice. She was terrified.

  I fell down in front of her on my knees, my heart pounding too loudly, and took her shivering cheeks into my hands, “Tell me what happened. Now.”

  She took a deep breath, “He…” she gasped and shook, and her face contorted with pain, “I can’t go back, Mav,” she whispered. “I can’t go back. Please don’t let me go back.”

  An awful thought crept to the forefront of my mind and I thought of Jonah, bleeding and sobbing in the custodial closet. “He hurt you,” I said, “Ramirez?”

  Ramirez. Eli fucking Ramirez. “What did he do to you, Celeste?”

  “I can’t…I can’t. If he finds out I told anyone…” Her expression went vacant again and she put her head in her hands.

  I pulled her hands away from her face and tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “How long ago did it happen? Do you have any bruises?”

  She blinked at me, then looked down at her two hands in my one. I followed her gaze, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater and swallowing the bile building in my throat at what I saw there. Deep, bluish, purple, and yellow marks marred her pale skin. They were somewhat fresh, had to be less than a week old, I assumed. I ground my teeth together. Celeste’s current condition would have taken months of abuse and neglect. I had to say it, I knew the answer, but I had to hear her acknowledge what had happened before I could approach my dad with a plan. “He raped you. When?”

  “I don't know, it happened a lot, I don’t remember.” She said quietly, her hands trembling in mine.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My whole body hurt with this revelation. It wasn’t just Elliott I wanted to murder, it was my own fucking self. I had been selfish and petty not checking in on her as often as I should have. I could have stopped this before it even happened if I’d stayed just one more fucking semester.

  I held both of her hands, brushing my thumbs over her fingers, “I’m so sorry, Celeste.” My voice cracked, “I am so sorry.” She fell to her knees in front of me, her arms bent at the elbows. I held her to my chest, burying my face into her hair as she shook and sobbed and trembled. “You never have to go back there. I promise, Ace. Bid Switzerland a grand fucking farewell.” Because I’m burning that place to the ground.

  She fell asleep in my arms, her body finally too exhausted to go on. I set her down on the couch and brushed her hair out of her face, pulling a never-used blanket over her still body.

  I texted my dad then, asking h
im to meet me in the study. He showed up a few moments later, concerned, and serious. I met him over by the door, my jaw sore from how hard I’d been clenching my teeth together. I was taller than him now, just by an inch. He pulled me into a hug the moment he saw my face, his hand on the back of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut against the fabric of his suit, trying to keep it together.

  “He hurt her, dad.” Was all I could get out.

  “Give me a name. I’ll take care of it.”

  Chapter 23

  Celeste

  The rape kit was the worst part. The nurse frowned at me when she asked if I’d taken a shower since the last incident occurred and I affirmed that I had. The pictures were humiliating and the swabs of every private area on my body dehumanizing. I knew they wouldn’t find a trace of Eli’s DNA anywhere, but Mr. Lockwood insisted we have the kit on record for the future. I was cold, violated, uncomfortable, and I still had to sit in front of a police officer and answer questions. Questions that would be repeated multiple times and followed by glancing looks that really meant I had no claim to this accusation.

  “But you said he was your boyfriend?”

  “Why didn’t you report it to an authority at your school?”

  “You’re taking prescription medicine for what?”

  The more questions they asked, the less sure I was. Did Eli force me? Did he make me take those pregnancy tests? Was I just too high to remember? Didn’t I love him?

  Mr. Lockwood was there with me the whole time, interrupting a police officer when he felt like the questions were becoming too much. He didn’t understand that everything was too much. It was all too much. Nothing would ever be normal again. Having to say all the details out loud in front of him for a second time was excruciating, but I managed to shut down long enough to get through it. When I’d first given him all the information, I’d asked him not to tell Maverick and he’d reminded me of my client privilege. It was embarrassing enough being taken advantage of, but the pregnancy tests were a whole other part of that terrible time I didn’t want anyone to know.