Authors: Melissa Pearl
My hesitation is brief and I'm eventually snuggling into his firm chest. I run my hand over his shirt and he shivers. I wish I could feel him. I have to concentrate really hard to hover on his shoulder. Every time my mind starts wandering I feel my head melting into him.
We lie in silence for a while. Me concentrating. Dale dropping into a light slumber. The night has set in. I can feel an odd coldness creeping into my bones. I inch closer to him, wishing I was snuggled beneath the covers, wrapped in his arms. I glance at Dale. His eyes are closed. I wonder what it would be like to sleep next to him all night.
I'd never done that with a guy, lain beside him, just cuddling.
"Are you a virgin?"
Dale opens his eyes and sighs.
"I wish I could say yes."
"Me too."
The answer comes so swiftly, I know it must be true. I frown.
Dale clears his throat. "I've decided I'm not going do it again until I meet the girl I'm going to marry."
"What?" I turn my head on his shoulder. "But you're a guy?"
"So?"
"Don't you have certain needs?"
"Yeah." He nods. "I need to make love to my wife and not just screw any girl that comes along."
"I guess there is a difference... between making love and having sex."
"There most definitely is."
"I don't think I've ever made love before."
"Me neither."
I drape my arm across his chest.
"Do you think you'll be able to do it?"
Dale chuckles. "Wait for the right girl?"
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah... I just hope I meet her in college."
I laugh.
"She's a lucky one, whoever she is. Most guys don't think like you, they just take and walk away."
"That's only because you hang out with dickheads."
"Let's face it. It's what I deserve."
"No it's not," he whispers.
How does he know? I don't want to think about it anymore so instead bury my head in his neck.
"Can you feel that?"
"Yeah."
"What's it like?"
"It's like fine mist is resting on my skin."
"Does it feel nice?"
"Yeah, Nicky. It feels really nice."
Why does Nicky sound so sweet on his lips? The name was tainted after Jody screamed it before her death, but he makes it... hear-able again.
I look up and his eyes start to close. He has a contended smile on his lips as he drifts to sleep.
I want to stay and watch him as the night drifts away, but something compels me home. Sneaking into the house, I pad to my parents bedroom and find it empty. Frowning, I turn towards the kitchen. Mom is sitting at the counter steeping yet another cup of tea. She's in zombie mode again.
I watch her pull the teabag in and out of the cup of steaming water. Up-down, up-down, like a robot. She's staring into space looking empty and desolate.
"Where's Dad?"
Her only response is an eye blink.
I step away from the counter and head into the living room. With the darkness outside, I can't see the dreaded tree, but I can still picture it in my mind... a little girl is falling from a high branch and all I can do is watch in muted horror.
Shuddering, I close my eyes to ward off the image. I head for the stairwell. A light is on in my room.
I run up there to find my Dad sitting on my bed. Party photos are scattered around him and my diary is open. Bile burns my stomach as I step into the room. He looks like he's been hit by a tsunami and all I can do is stare at him.
The word sorry is resting on my lips, but I can't quite get it out, I'm too disgusted with myself to speak. I hate that they've found these. I hate that they know what I've been doing to myself.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
I jump at my mother's voice. She stands there with her cup of tea, leaning against the doorframe, just like Dad had yesterday.
"I - I had no idea."
My mother takes in a shaky breath and blinks at tears.
Dad starts packing up the photos, piling them together with a pained expression creasing his face. He holds the edges as if he doesn't want to touch them. Running his hand over the open pages of my diary, he lets out a slow sigh. "Do you think that Finnigan kid might be right?"
"I don't want to think about it."
Dad glances out the window, his mouth set in a pinched line.
"Ignoring the issues doesn't make them go away, Tru."
Mom looks hurt by his statement, her expression is beginning to fracture, but she takes a breath and pulls it together... just.
"I don't know which is worse... her struggling out there on her own... or her dea-"
"DON'T say it, Mitchell." Her eyes are wild when he turns to meet them. "I can't lose them both."
My Dad's face cracks as his eyes fill with tears.
"We've already lost her."
He points to the pile of pictures.
"But at least if she's run away there's still a chance she'll come back."
Dad runs his fingers into his hair and grabs a fistful. "Why would she want to?"
I can feel my heart splintering as I watch Dad's mouth fight back a sob.
"You were right, Tru. We should have done better. We thought this freedom would help her deal with her pain."
"We didn't want her to feel any blame or responsibility for what happened. We didn't want to put any pressure on her."
"But she felt abandoned." Dad shoots up from the bed and thumps his hand on the wall. He leans his head on his fist and looks ready to smash something.
"She felt completely unprotected. I'm her father." He spins to face Mom. "I was supposed to look after her and instead I fed her to the wolves. Look at this."
He grabs the photos and throws them across the room, then reaches into my drawer and pulls out a packet of condoms I had hiding in there. They spray out of the box as it's flung towards the window.
"She was sleeping around. My little girl was having sex! What else was she doing? Was she into drugs?"
I shake my head. "Never," I whisper.
"Is she O.Ded somewhere... at some party where no one cares about who she is or where she's come from?"
Tears are streaming down my face as his shoulders slump. My mother is quietly sobbing into her tea.
"I love her." He drops to his knees. "She's my little girl. I love her so much and I'll never get to tell her."
Burying his head in his hands, he sobs. His whole body shakes as loud moans come out of his body.
Mom places her tea on the desk and kneels beside him, running a hand over his back and burying her head into his neck. They weep against each other and I can't help joining them.
Covering my mouth, I let the tears stream unchecked.
He loves me. My Dad actually loves me.
"I'm sorry," I cry. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
My head starts to sear with a sharp pain as my bed rushes towards me. I fall to my knees and cry out as the sobs and aches mingle together. I'm heading back to my body. Part of me wants it. I can't watch my father fall apart. Another part can't bear to leave.
I open my eyes as my room goes blurry, there's no stopping this now. A soft whistle plays in the back of my brain as I'm pulled back. It sounds familiar, but I can't think where I've heard it.
My parents fade and the whistling gets louder.
I open my eyes. My tears evaporate as the whistling comes clear.
The ringtone!
I hold my breath and freeze. I try to turn my head to peer up the hill, but my neck is stiff. I have to suffice with shifting my eyes in that direction instead. It is dark, but I can see flashlight beams above me. The whistle rings again.
"Are you just going to ignore it?" The voice wafts down to me through the clear night air.
"Yes."
"But what if it's..."
"I'm not answering!"
I try to listen carefully to see if I know the voices, but they are muffled at best. I strain to make out the rest of the conversation, forcing my scattered mind to follow whatever phrases I can capture.
"I'm sorry..."
"Stop apologizing!"
"I - I messed up! We don't do that in our family."
"You're damn right, we don't. Now where do you think you hit her?"
My heart accelerates as the words register.
"Over there, see the railing."
"Some of that damage is older, but that blue paint might be from your car."
Blue paint. Remember blue paint, Nicky. I close my eyes and try to burn it into my brain. I feel the thought floating away from me, but will it back. Dale will want to know. Remember this, Nicky. Don't you dare forget!
"I hope we find her."
There's a pregnant pause and I hold my breath, wanting to make sure I don't miss any information. "She probably won't be alive."
Should I call for help?
"Please don't say that."
"You better hope she isn't?"
I swallow back my scream. What did he just say?
"What?"
"Your life is over if this gets out. Do you understand?"
"I..."
"There'll be no chance of a scholarship. You'll be looking at juvenille detention... maybe even jail. I'm not going to let that happen to you."
"What are you saying?"
"We find her and bury her - dead or alive."
Panicky breaths punch through my system and I have to fight to keep my body still. My limbs feel like they're on fire and I have to resist the urge to throw my jacket off. I reel my lucid mind in and scream at myself to stay silent and still.
"All we have to do is sell that run away story until everyone in town believes us. It won't be hard."
Terror swirls through my brain. They're going to kill me. Whoever those men are up the hill, they have come to finish the job. The idea of being buried alive is horrifying. I don't want it to end like that. I'd rather pass away in my own sweet time!
My depressing death wish from before vanishes as my mind ticks with strategies of how to survive this. I try to scan the forest floor for some kind of weapon, quietly grasping for sticks with my clumsy, stiff fingers. The pain is excruciating and I'm so scared of making a noise that I soon give up.
I don't want to die like this. I have to get back to Dale. He has to find me.
Licking lips that are begging for water, I'm about to will myself back to him when I stop. No. I need to stay. I need to protect myself and make sure these guys don't bury me.
My eyes search the darkness, scanning for dark shadows and shapes that could be the men.
A torch beam grazes the ground to my right. I try to turn my head away as the light flitters past me, but I can't move fast enough. I close my eyes instead, willing them not to notice me.
"This is impossible. We're not going to be able to search this whole area by torchlight?"
A frustrated sigh follows.
"It's safer this way."
"You want to do this all night? How are we going to explain it to Mom?"
A loud curse echoes through the air. "We'll come back in the morning, have a proper hunt and finish this. It's time to put this mistake of yours behind us." The voice drops low and menacing. "And God help me, if you ever do something like this again, I'll strap you so hard you'll be walking funny for the rest of your life."
Fear permeates the air around me. Whoever he is talking to, totally believes what was just said. I can sense his consternation even though he is all the way at the top of the hill. I know he hit me with his car and I know he deserves to be punished, but right this second, I almost feel sorry for him.
I listen to a car engine firing up and then wait an eternity for it to drive away. My heart slowly returns to it's normal thud, but the heebie-jeebies are still massacring my system. Come the morning, I was a dead girl.
"Dale," I whisper. "What do I do?"
Shivers make my muscles quiver, but my body can barely shake. I'm growing weak. My parched throat needs water. The limbs that were throbbing yesterday are starting to go numb. My sluggish eyes struggle to stay open.
"Dale. I can't let them do this to me. My parents won't survive death by murder. What do I do?"
A tear slides down my cheek, but I don't have the energy to brush it away.
"I need you to find me." My head lolls to the side. "Find me. Please find me."
"Find me."