Paradox (Unearthly Paradox) (6 page)

He smirked. “Nice way of saying thanks.”

I dipped my head as my face flushed again. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He pushed off the car and walked out of the garage. “See you around.” He strolled down the driveway and onto the footpath without looking back.

I slammed the car door, closed the garage, and went into the house. I was so angry with myself for practically turning to putty whenever he was around. God, I didn’t even need to be around him—I just needed to think about him. Maybe I had posttraumatic stress disorder and needed counselling after all because I definitely wasn’t turning into
that
girl.

My father would’ve been proud. I spent most of the night studying my ass off in my bedroom—not that I cared about his approval. When I couldn’t take another second of reading about Australian history, I turned off my music and the light then climbed into bed.

The sound of drunken chatter filtered in through the half-closed balcony door. Someone was obviously having a party on the beach. I didn’t dare get up to look, but I knew Jett would be down there. Or maybe I just hoped.

I covered my head with the pillow and tried to drown out the noise, but it was useless. I could hear every drunken slur. I needed to drown out the noise. I got out of bed and stumbled in the dark through my clothes scattered on the floor to grab my iPod from my desk.

I tried not to look down to the beach as I walked past the balcony, but I failed miserably. The next thing I knew, my face was smushed up against the security mesh as I tried to get a better view.

There had to be at least twenty people on the beach, all sitting around a crackling fire that spat flaming embers into the air when someone tipped his beer into the flames.

I zeroed in on Jett. He was sitting on a deck chair with a bottle of beer in his hand. He wasn’t acting loud and obnoxious like his friends. There was something different about the way he was behaving—or wasn’t behaving. His beer didn’t look to have been touched, as if it were just for show. His brown eyes were glazed over as he sat in deep serenity.

Hang on. How the hell could I see so much detail when they had to be at least fifty metres away?
I quickly glanced at the mirror to my right. I almost screamed when I saw black eyes staring back at me.

My heart thumping in my chest, I quickly turned away from my reflection. I looked out the door again, searching for Jett. I sucked in a sharp breath. His black eyes were staring back at me.

I jumped back, away from the door. I wanted to believe there was no way he could’ve seen me standing there in the dark, but the way our eyes had locked on one another, I knew something had passed between us. What exactly that was, I didn’t know.

I snatched my iPod off the desk and made my way back to the bed. I flicked to my favourite playlist for going to sleep then laid my head on the pillow, listening to the music coming from the speakers in the ceiling.

No longer able to hear the noise down on the beach, I drifted off to sleep with my black-eyed boy never leaving the forefront of my mind.

Boom! The sound of a gunshot blasted through my room.

I leapt out of the bed, trying to look everywhere at once. My chest was on fire, and when I placed my hand on it, I felt a warm liquid. Blood. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out but a gurgling noise.

I looked up into the cold hard stare of a man standing at the foot of my bed. He held a gun, which was aimed at my head.

My head started to spin, and whiteness crept into the edges of my vision. I saw an air ripple pass through the security screen and slam into the man. I tried to stay awake to see what was happening, but the more I fought it, the faster I went under. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor as the white light overcame me.

I awoke to whispers. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were not co-operating. They felt sealed shut. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t seem to move my mouth.

My head was foggy and my chest numb.
My chest!
I tried to lift my hand, but it didn’t move. My brain seemed to be the only part of my body that still worked.

Panic rippled through me as I imagined my life without a working body, always having to rely on someone to feed, bathe, and take care of me. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but I couldn’t even do that.

The voices moved away until I was surrounded by silence. Then a hand closed over mine and squeezed tightly. Someone whispered words I couldn’t understand. The warmth of their breath against my cheek soothed me more with every word they said. I felt as if I were putty melting into the mattress as I quickly drifted off to sleep.

Sunlight shining through my lids woke me. I slowly opened my sleep-encrusted eyes and rubbed them until I could see properly. I was lying in my bed. The door to my balcony was half open, and a warm sea breeze blew into my room.

I sighed with relief. The whole thing had been a dream, a bad one, but nothing more than a nightmare. I checked the clock on the bedside table—2:15.
Holy crap!
I’d never slept so late in my entire life.

I tried to sit up, but a tightness in my chest made me collapse back onto my pillow. “Shit,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting up for at least another day,” Jett said, walking into my room.

“What the hell?” Pain ripped through my chest as I jerked up in surprise.

“Relax.” He held up his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He came over and sat on the edge of my bed as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He was completely relaxed, unlike me. I didn’t understand why he was there or how he had gotten into my house.

“How’s your chest?” he asked.

I blinked hard. “Excuse me?”

His eyes dropped down to my chest, and he smiled. “How’s the pain in your chest?”

“Pain?” I looked down and saw gauze covering the top of my left boob.

He leaned over and pointed at the bandage. “You’re lucky. The bullet only nicked your ribs. It didn’t pass through, but it has been removed.”

I gaped at him. I had been shot. Those four words replayed in my mind over and over again.

“Calm down. You’re going to be okay.”

Anger shot through me. What right did he have to tell me to calm down when I’d just found out that I’d been shot? Actually, what right did he have being in my house? In my room? God, I barely even knew him, and yet he was sitting on my bed as if it were his own. Countless questions ran through my mind, but one stood out. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why aren’t I in hospital? I mean, if I’ve been shot, then shouldn’t I be in hospital?”

“Take a look under the bandage if you don’t believe me.”

I was about to call him out for dodging my question when I decided to humour him and take a look. I looked down to peel off the gauze and gasped in horror. Without a doubt, I knew I had gone to bed in a white tank, but I was now wearing a blue one. I lifted the sheet. I also no longer had on my grey shorts. I wasn’t wearing shorts at all—just panties.

I dropped the sheet. “Please tell me a nurse changed my clothes.”

He grinned. “Yep. Nurse Lomazzo took care of it.”

Relief washed over me. “So what are you doing here?”

“Someone has to take care of you while your dad’s away.”

I shook my head, thinking a home nurse would’ve been a more obvious choice for a gunshot victim. Actually, a hospital room would be more fitting. I thought back to the night it had happened, imagining the man holding a gun trained on my chest. “Why me?”

Jett looked at me as if I were stupid. “Ahh, because you’re the one who got shot.”

I scrunched up my face then realised why he thought I was asking him why he was looking after me. “No, I meant, why was I
shot
?” I remembered the cold, hard look on the man’s face. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Then why are you here? I mean, how did you find out that I’d been shot and needed looking after?”

Jett stood, walked over to the half-open balcony door, and stared outside. “I heard the ambulance and came over.”

I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I prodded him with “That’s it?” For the first time since I’d known him—which wasn’t very long—he looked unsure of himself. “Jett?”

He clenched his jaw then turned to me. I thought he was going to get all crazy drug lord on me, but his voice was calm. “That’s it.” He walked toward the door to the hallway. “You should get some rest. I’ll be downstairs if you need me. My number’s in your phone, and your phone’s beside your bed.” He left the room without looking back.

I looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. I had definitely locked the security mesh screen, and those things were apparently indestructible. The monitored security system my father had installed was supposed to be top of the line as well, yet my attacker had still gotten in without triggering the alarm.

Nothing seemed to make sense. And I had a feeling Jett knew more than what he was letting on, but for some reason, he wanted to keep me in the dark.

Just as I picked up my phone to call the police to find out what was going on, Jett entered my room, followed by two police officers, a male and a female. “The police want to speak with you about what happened last night.”

“Um, sure, I guess.”

“Hi, Zara,” the woman said. “My name is Sergeant Campbell, and this is Sergeant Brown.”

“Hi,” I said nervously.

“Your friend here said that you would be up to speak with us about what happened last night.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I glared at Jett, wishing I had telepathic abilities so I could let him know he should have given me some warning.

“Good. Well, we won’t take up much of your time,” she said. “The security company have informed us that your system was inactive at the time of the incident, and they couldn’t find any evidence to suggest tampering. Do you remember setting the alarm before you went to bed?”

I was supposed to set the alarm? Dad hadn’t mentioned that. “No, sorry. I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay. Do you remember anything about the burglar you encountered last night?”

“I’m sorry. What?” I asked.

Campbell furrowed her eyebrows. “You interrupted an intruder last night in your lounge room.”

I shook my head. “No. Someone came into my bedroom and shot me.”

Sergeant Brown glanced at Jett. “You were found downstairs. You—”

“Ah, no. It happened in here, right where you’re standing.”

They looked at the floor as if expecting to see bloodstains or some other evidence.

Campbell knelt to study the carpet. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any blood here.”

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t seen any bloodstains on the carpet when I’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, and it would’ve been impossible for someone to clean up the mess overnight. As much as I knew it was going to hurt, I had to see for myself. Gritting my teeth, I rolled over and checked the floor. The carpet was clean. “But…” I looked up at them, hoping they’d come up with a reason why there were no stains on the carpet.

Campbell gave me a pitying look. “Maybe we should come back later when you’ve had some time to remember what happened.”

“No!” I shouted as they turned to leave. “I remember what happened.”

“We were first on the scene, and we found you downstairs,” Sergeant Campbell said. “We’ve already searched your house, and there was no evidence to say you were shot in your room, or anywhere else in the house, for that matter.”

“But…” I shook my head, trying to work out how my memory could be so wrong.

“That’s okay, miss. Sometimes this happens with trauma victims.” Sergeant Brown pulled a card out of his pocket and put it on my nightstand. “You can call us when your memory comes back.”

“But I remember what he looked like.”

Sergeant Campbell shook her head with a sorrowful expression. “We can’t use any description you have of the assailant if your memory of the event is conflicting with the evidence.”

I sat there, too shocked to say anything more. I remembered the attack as clear as day, but they were right. There was no blood on the carpet, walls, or bed sheets. I did have a tendency to sleepwalk, so maybe my whole memory was nothing more than a dream. And for all I knew, I could’ve let the intruder in myself.

“I’m sorry. I know this must be hard to hear,” Sergeant Campbell said. “Maybe you should try seeing a counsellor to help you.” She looked over to Jett, who gave her a slight nod. “We’ll let you know if we have any further information for you.”

“Wait!” I yelled as they neared the door. “Please don’t contact my father about this.”

The look on their faces was exactly what I expected. I was sure they didn’t get that type of request often. But they didn’t know my father. He would have sounded sincerely distraught when they told him, but then I’d have to deal with his anger over how stupid I was to confront a burglar. But that wouldn’t have been the worst of it. Seeing him not give a damn wasn’t something I ever wanted to go through again. I didn’t need that reminder that he didn’t love me. One time, I was so sick that every movement made me throw up. My father knowingly left me lying in my own vomit for days without medical attention just so he could attend one of his precious business conferences. If it wasn’t for my cousin Jessica coming around to see where I was and why I wasn’t returning her calls, I would probably have died.

“You’re not a minor, so we have no authority to inform him against your wishes,” Sergeant Campbell said.

I nodded. “I don’t want him to know.”

“Right.” Sergeant Campbell glanced at her partner, probably wondering why a teenager wouldn’t want her parent knowing she’d been shot. “I hope you get better soon.”

“Thank you,” I said.

When Jett started to walk them out, Sergeant Brown said, “We can see ourselves out if you want to stay with Zara.”

“Thanks,” Jett replied. He waited until they had left before sitting on my bed beside me. “Maybe they were right, and you should see a—”