I See You (13 page)

Tricia stares at me, waiting, for what seems like forever. I can’t look at her.

She slips her hand into mine and gives me an encouraging smile. “I know it’s hard, Nee, but I think it would help if you opened up.”

I nod.

“I know he raped you and he made a mess down there and everywhere,” she continues, gesturing up and down my body. She really lacks subtlety. “But I think it’s more than that.”

I close my eyes, hating myself, but I swallow back my shame and whisper, “He made me come.”

She stays quiet and I look at her, wondering what she doesn’t have the nerve to say to my face but she’s casually waiting for me to continue. She finally frowns at me and sucks in a breath. “What else?”

“Like that’s not bad enough?” I stutter. “He made me come, Trish. He—made—my—own—body—turn—against—me! How sick am I?”

“Babe.” She sighs, tightening her hand in mine. “Our minds don’t control what arouses us. Fair enough, our eyes and our senses do, but if the erogenous zones on our body are stimulated, then they’re stimulated. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of that. It’s natural.” She wipes my tears away with her thumbs and sighs. “Please come home, Nee. The attack was forever ago.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” she argues. “It’s over. It’s over.”

“It will never be over, Tricia. Never.”

“It was a year ago. Don’t let him win. Don’t allow him to rule your life even after his sickness took so much from you.”

I look up at her through the torrent of my tears. “He’s coming back.”

She freezes, her eyes narrowing as her throat lifts with a heavy gulp. “What?”

My skin prickles with the memory of his words, of his hatred. “He promised me that when I least expect him, he will come back. But the next time it will be to kill me.”

She gasps and then blows it out. “Did he actually say those words? Did you tell the police that?”

“Yes. But they seem to think he was lying. They have his blood they found on the bedding from where I bit him, but they said they couldn’t find a match on the system.” Looking away I swallow the sob. “But I know he will come back, Trish. That’s why I can’t come back. I have to hide for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, babe.” She circles her arms around me and huddles me up.

I
’M SO FUCKING ANGRY. WATCHING
and listening to Nina makes my heart hurt. He promised me. He said she’s mine now. I should have known better than to trust him. My own brother, and the spawn of my father.

The anger turns to rage and I swipe the contents from the old mahogany dresser in my bedroom, the many items crashing to the floor, glass and liquids coating the carpet in an explosion of anger.

I won’t allow him to find her. He has no idea where I am, so I know as long as I’m careful, Nina will be safe.

My stomach twists with the knowledge that Noah made her come. But the only thought rushing through me is
‘what if I can’t?’
What if I can’t make her come but Noah can? Then what? I hate how weak he’s made me, how inadequate I’d felt under his scrutiny my entire life. I always saw him as an idol and felt that out of everyone in the world he actually cared and loved me, but the more I’m separated from him, the more I see with new eyes.

Watching her stroke herself off the other night was pure pleasure. Her beautiful face had turned into raw magnificence in the throes of her climax, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open as ecstasy overwhelmed her.

I hadn’t been able to forget her in the twelve months she was away from me. She had taken something with her that day she left, some part of me that I needed to breathe. I hadn’t understood what it was at first, and I was angry that she, a fucking bitch, had come between Noah and me. I hadn’t understood it at all. Then after I dreamed of Courtney one night, I woke with a start, and a knowledge. A knowledge that I’m in love with Nina Drake.

Noah had seen it; that’s why he had been so angry with me when I begged him not to hurt her. And I couldn’t help but feel that, because of his anger with me, he had gone further than ever before. Not just tearing apart Nina’s life, but the final piece of thread that held my family together.

But, and closing my eyes as I realize this, I miss the life I had with Noah. If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t just lost my brother, I’ve lost a career that I loved. I miss the click of my camera, the life I captured in the lens, and each breath caught on film; breath that had been many women’s last.

And I’ve started to imagine what she, Tricia, would look like in the click of death. I don’t like the way she is with Nina; her mouth has no filter. She’s reckless with her tongue, using it to shoot bullets that are having critical impact. She’s too self-absorbed to even notice how incredibly broken her best friend is.

“I
’M GOING TO MISS YOU,
” I sob to Tricia as I hug her tight to my body.

She pulls back, her own eyes full of tears, and nods. “Thank you for trusting me.” She smiles. “I love you, babe. But please, please, put it behind you. Like I said, he won’t be back for you. It was just his last way of hurting you.”

I nod but she and I both know I don’t believe her. “What will you do?”

I shrug as we both wave to Devon when he pulls off his driveway and disappears down the road. “I have no idea but I need to start trying to get a life back somehow. I’m running out of money.”

She frowns. “I can lend you a bit. I have some savings, but . . .”

I shake my head sternly. “No, don’t be silly. I love you for offering but . . .” I blow out a breath. “Like you say, I need to move on, as hard as it might be.”

“Well a job will hopefully give you the confidence you lost too. Then maybe one day soon you may make it home.”

I grin at her, more tears running down my cheeks. I know she misses me. I miss her, and who knows, maybe she’s right and one day I will make it home. But I’m not ready yet. Home isn’t safe and still holds too many horrible memories.

Tricia looks towards Devon’s house and gives me a sly smile. “Well, you’re already making new friends.”

“Friends, yes,” I warn, knowing exactly where she’s going. “Text me when you get home.”

She chuckles but nods her head then hugs me tight again before she climbs into her car. A loud sob bursts from me and I wave like a lunatic as she pulls away and follows in Devon’s wake, her car lights blinking at me as they turn around the corner.

I blink down at Steve when he curls himself around my legs, purring at me as though he senses my sadness. More likely that he’s hungry. He’s always hungry.

I scoop him up, nuzzling his soft fur as I carry him into the kitchen, my gaze towards the darkening sky. “There’s a storm coming, big fella.”

I’m apprehensive as the tree in the front yard sways towards the window with the force of the wind, its movement making the light from the streetlamp eerily chase across the walls of my dark lounge. Rain beats hard, the rattle of the glass pane causing me some concern. I pray that it holds against the sudden rainstorm that rolled in an hour ago. Summer storms are always the worst for me. The memories that come flooding in with them as destructive to my soul as they are to the surroundings.

The fire rages, and I pull the blanket higher up my body, snuggling down with my Kindle. It moves freely, and I blink at the bottom to where Steve is usually curled up.

“Steve?” I shout, looking around to see if he’s curled up someplace new. But he isn’t around. Frowning, I move off the sofa and check the house, my heart beat slowly increasing the more I hunt and can’t find him. “Steve!”

Memories of a different storm flood in, and Ginger’s wet coat is almost real in my mind. “STEVE!”

My eyes shift as quickly as my body as I carry my search upstairs. “Steve!” Freaking cat! “Where are you, baby?”

A clatter sounds as I enter my bedroom, causing me to jolt in terror. My body stiffens but I force myself to relax when I see the branches from the tree between mine and Devon’s house crack the small window.

I peer out through the rain-contorted glass, my eyes narrow as I hunt for my cat. I rush down the stairs and pull on my sneakers, then, grabbing my coat, I wrap it around me and venture out.

“STEVE?”

Where the hell is he? The trees are swaying fiercely with the force of the wind, the rain slashing me. My eyes search, my heart races, and still I see no sign of Steve. My legs can barely carry me with the dread burning through my body. Sweat pours from me, the saltiness teeming over my lips as the rain pushes it down my face.

Biting my lip, I brace myself and climb the few steps to my front porch, the image of a dead Ginger haunting me and making the shadows play cruel jokes as I imagine each silhouette is my poor, dead cat.

“Steve!” I choke out in a whisper as terror tightens my throat.

I knew he would be back; he told me. He told me and I didn’t listen. I’ve been ignorant thinking he can’t find me.

I run fast, around the house and through the back door, slamming it shut and housing each bolt in place as I snatch up my phone and call 911. It’s an age before anyone answers my call, and as I’m about to slam the phone down and try again, a click notifies me of a connection.

As soon as the male voice answers me I’m already reeling off a string of slurred words.