Perception (20 page)

WHILE WE WERE STILL IN DARKNESS, MY MIND
struggled for a plan. I went with my gut.

“Hi, Mr. Rylander,” I said, feigning confidence.

The light turned on. I squinted against the sudden brightness.

Rylander glanced quickly at Tiffany, then turned to give me his full attention. “You knew it was me?”

I gave a light shrug. “Of course.”

“And you’re not afraid?”

I stayed completely still, though my heart was pounding wildly in my rib cage, like it was trying to break free. “Do I have reason to be?”

He took a step toward me, looking pleased with my response. “I realize this was an unusual start to our relationship, but traditional beginnings are overrated. And you are definitely not a traditional girl.” He chuckled. “I even had to wear gloves and use various other methods to hide my identity from you during the wooing process. That was a first. But I wanted my unveiling to wait until the time was right.” He smiled. “I’ve looked for you for a long time, Clare.”

Icy fingers crawled up my spine. Rylander took one step closer. I tried not to shudder. Not to show my disgust.

“I never had much luck with girls,” he said. “Most of them are just so … average.”

“Ashleigh wasn’t,” I said. “Sierra wasn’t.”

His eyes widened at my knowledge. “But Ashleigh betrayed me in Paris, and Sierra changed her mind after it was too late. They disappointed me in the end. You’re not going to disappoint me, though, are you?”

I shook my head, too terrified to speak. My confidence was breaking and I was afraid that if I spoke, he’d know it was all faked.

He’d said the same things to Sierra that he’d written in his notes to me. I was talented. Unique. Special. Amazing. Just his type. Ashleigh had painting, Sierra had music, and I had my gift. I remembered the research Gabriel had done on delusional stalkers and their fantasy worlds. And how when things don’t go the way they plan and the victim of their obsession doesn’t live up to expectations … they turn violent.

I made myself talk.

“I won’t disappoint you,” I said. My voice was calm, while inside, my stomach churned.

“You wore the dress I bought you.”

I forced the words out of my mouth. “Yes. I love it.”

“Let us go!” Tiffany yelled suddenly.

He narrowed his eyes and dismissed her with a loud “Shut up!”

When he was faced the other way, I shook my head at her.
I hoped she got the message.
Stay quiet. Let me handle this. Let me play his game. It’s the only way.

Tiffany was nothing to him. He looked at her how she’d always looked at me — with hate, disdain, and condescension. I didn’t know why he’d abducted Tiffany, but it was obvious she and I were there for very different reasons.

Rylander moved forward again, only a couple feet away from me now. “I was just like you, you know. In high school. I had my own Tiffanys and Codys. Every day, I endured the pain they inflicted on me. The name-calling. Books being knocked out of my hands. Slammed into lockers. Tripped while walking down the aisle in class. Mocked. Laughed at. Every. Single. Day.”

“But you had Ashleigh,” I said.

“Until she found someone else, in Paris.” A shadow flickered over his face. “That was a terrible time for me. For a long time after, I stayed alone, not willing to let anyone else in. Not wanting to risk the hurt. But then, when I was ready, I set out to try again. To find someone just as special. Sierra was a misjudgment, but you …” He paused, considering me. “Do you know how special you are, Clare?”

“Yes, I do,” I said automatically, wanting to agree with anything he said.

“It took some trial and error,” he said. “And I made mistakes along the way. But I’ve found you now. And together we’re going to be so happy. I’ll prove it to you.”

He turned, suddenly, and swooped over to Tiffany’s side, his hand gesturing at her with a flourish. “You’re probably
wondering what
she’s
doing here. Well, this is another gift for you.”

I tilted my head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“Just like the cockroach in her locker and the damage to Cody Rowe’s car. They all messed with you, so I messed with them. But those were just small tokens. I saved the greatest gift for last. Tiffany has caused you the most trouble, so she gets to be my biggest offering.”

He reached behind his back and pulled something free from his belt. It sliced through the air as he brought it down to his side. A knife. One of those large kinds they show on late-night infomercials that can effortlessly cut through impossible things.

Rylander grinned wickedly. “I’m going to kill her for you.”

Tiffany’s eyes pleaded with me for answers. I was the leader here. I had to figure out what to do. I gritted my teeth and moved to the edge of the chair. Rylander looked uncertainly at me.

“That girl,” I said, pointing at Tiffany with a crooked finger. “Made my life a living hell.”

Rylander nodded. “I know.”

I dredged up every ounce of hatred I’d ever felt for Tiffany. Every moment I’d wished terrible things on her. I let all the anger bleed into my voice. “I never did
anything
to her and she ruined my life!” I yelled. “She turned people against me. She made my boyfriend betray me. She humiliated me every day. She made my life lonely and miserable!”

Rylander nodded eagerly with each word. “That’s why it’s the perfect gift.”

My eyes bored into Tiffany. “No.” I shook my head slowly. “It’s not enough. I want more.”

Rylander blinked quickly. “What do you want?”

I stood slowly, still a little unsteady on my feet. I held out my hand, palm up. “I want to be the one to do it. I want to kill her myself.”

Rylander’s eyes gleamed with pleasure at the thought. “Are you sure?”

My eyes slid to his. “Promise me we won’t get caught?”

“We won’t,” he answered quickly. “We can put her somewhere they’ll never find her. And if they do, we can run away. Together. And they’ll never find us.”

I stepped forward with forced confidence. “Let’s do this.”

Rylander licked his lips and held out the knife, greedy bloodlust in his eyes. I reached out and took it, the wooden handle heavy in my hand. For a moment, it felt like everything in me froze. As if even my blood stopped rushing through my veins.

I thought about the events of the last few days and wished I could have pieced things together sooner. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be standing here with a knife and a girl’s life in my hands. Every muscle in my body tightened in preparation for what I was about to do.

For what I
had
to do.

I raised the knife above my shoulder. Tiffany looked up at me with widened eyes and trembling lips. And with all my strength, I plunged the knife down.

I let go and scrambled backward, pulling Tiffany up off the chair and with me. Rylander screamed in agony as he
looked down. The knife stuck out from his thigh. His eyes flashed toward me, burning with a horrifying rage. I was the one. He’d been sure of it. He’d picked correctly this time. But I, too, betrayed him.

I yanked open the door and ran into an all-gray room. The floor, walls, everything was cement. My first thought was that we were in some kind of dungeon, but then I realized it was the cottage’s basement. That’s why the room had no windows. Tiffany pushed me toward the right where she spotted the staircase. We sprinted up the stairs and burst onto the main floor. So close to escape. I felt lightheaded and slightly delirious from the rush.

The front door had a complicated system of bolts and locks. Tiffany tore at each one and pulled on the door. Still locked. She shrieked and tried again. Rylander was loudly limping up the stairs, gaining on us.

“Come on,” I said, jumping impatiently in place. “He’s coming!”

“I’m trying!” she squealed.

Rylander roared from behind us. I looked over my shoulder and saw him pulling the knife out of his leg, his face twisted in pain and anger. Blood poured from the wound. I hoped he’d drop, unconscious, but couldn’t count on it.

“There’s no time. Come on!” I grabbed Tiffany and pulled her into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind us.

“We’ll go out there.” I pointed to a half-size bathroom window, big enough for us to squeeze through one at a time.

Tiffany unlocked it and struggled to pull up the sill. “It’s painted shut!”

I opened the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it, looking for anything we could use. I tore the blade out of Rylander’s razor. Handing it to her, I said, “Use this. I’ll stand at the door.”

Rylander tried the handle, then began kicking at the door.

The wood was cheap and thin. Even
I
could kick it in, given enough time. “Work quickly,” I said, as if that wasn’t obvious.

Tiffany dug at the bottom of the sash with the blade as Rylander kicked and kicked.

Tremors shook my entire body, and my heart still pounded like a fist in my chest, but not from terror. My fear had been pushed to the background, overcome by a newer, stronger emotion: anger.

“You’re making me do this!” Rylander yelled as he continued to kick.

I’d done it. I’d disappointed him. Just like all the others.

And he’d disappointed me.

His next kick splintered the wood, and the door burst open. But I was ready for him. I reared back my left arm and punched him as hard as I could. He staggered back, his eyes immediately watering as blood trickled between the fingers that had involuntarily risen to his nose. I wanted to strike again before he regained his composure. I lifted my knee up high, ready to give him a snap kick to the groin. But his arm lashed out, grabbing my foot before I could make contact, and twisting it to an impossible angle. I cried out in pain. My
hands reached out to brace my fall as the floor came rushing up to meet me.

As my world was literally turning upside down, I saw Tiffany, her body already halfway out the window. Then Rylander, still holding my foot, started pulling me backward. I flailed at the floor, trying to dig my fingernails into the grout between the tiles, but it was no use. I screamed as excruciating pain radiated up from my ankle, making my whole leg go numb.

This was it. I was being dragged to my death. Fear returned in the form of a giant weight on my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My heart constricted and I felt an overwhelming sense of failure. I’d lost. I was going to die here. When I still had so much left I wanted to do.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Tiffany sprang forward, gouging at Rylander’s face and eyes with her long fingernails. She knocked him backward. He tripped over the wreckage of the shattered door and slammed down to the floor, hitting headfirst. He was out cold.

“Go! Go!” Tiffany yelled as I scrambled up and pulled myself through the window, barely registering the new pain from my arms. I fell to the grass below and Tiffany soon followed. She pulled me up and began to run.

Adrenaline gave me the strength to do a limping trot through the side yard, toward the front. Tiffany was screaming her head off, but that wouldn’t help us if no one else was on the street. I didn’t know how long Rylander would be out. He might have already regained consciousness.

White-hot pain shot up from my ankle, but I pushed on
while Tiffany yelled, “Faster, faster,” over her shoulder. She skidded to a stop at the sight of a car careening into the driveway.

“It’s Perry!” I yelled.

He jumped out of the driver’s side and started toward us.

I waved my arms at him. “Get back in! We’ve got to go!”

Tiffany tore open the back door and pushed me in, then toppled in beside me. She screamed at Perry to go and grabbed his phone to dial 9-1-1 as the smell of burning rubber lit up the street.

TWO DAYS AFTER I FOUGHT OFF A CRAZED KILLER
and saved the life of my mortal enemy, I lay on the couch, my ankle propped up on pillows. I took inventory of my injuries. My left hand was swollen, the knuckles cut. Scratches lined the underside of my arms from pulling myself out the window. My ankle was severely sprained and I’d need crutches for a little while. But I was alive.

Tiffany was also fine. We hadn’t spoken since we gave our statements at the police station that night. I had no interest in being friends with her, but she’d come back and saved me when it counted. So maybe a peace treaty of some sort was in order.

Perry had continued his Ashleigh research when we’d gotten off the phone. He’d found her graduating class online and sifted through the photos uploaded there. And found one of her with a younger Mr. Rylander. It had all clicked into place for Perry then, especially why Ashleigh had gone bananas right in front of Rylander’s house. And that’s how Perry had known where I was.

I spent all Saturday night in the ER and the police station. I spent all of Sunday drifting in and out of painkiller-induced sleep. I heard the phone and the doorbell, often, but Mom wouldn’t let anyone in to see me. I needed my rest, she’d repeat to anyone who tried.

Now, Monday, everyone else was in school, though I doubted there would be any learning today. They’d probably do an assembly to tell everyone about The Secret Life of Mr. Rylander the Psycho. Word about what Tiffany and I had gone through had probably spread like wildfire. They’d calm the student body down, tell them Rylander was in police custody, and offer counselors.

Detective Toscano called a while ago to fill me in on more details. Rylander confessed to everything — from killing Ashleigh and Sierra to stalking me. He’d had a string of failed relationships with women before he returned to his hometown. Then he pursued Sierra, figuring she’d be easier to control since she was inexperienced and innocent. And instead of looking at him as a predator, she was naïvely flattered that a guy — a good-looking, smart, older guy — was interested in her. But at some point she’d had second thoughts. Unfortunately, too late.

After Sierra disappointed him, he’d set his sights on me. I was his type — uniquely talented with an extraordinary gift. And I was injured. Mentally. He knew how it felt to be bullied; he knew all about that pain. Maybe those experiences in high school were what made him lose his grip on reality, who knows. But, like a shark to an injured fish, he was attracted
to me. Thinking I was weak. And that I’d understand him in a way others hadn’t.

He’d met his match, all right.

“You still drugged out?” Perry asked, poking his head into the living room.

“No, I’m awake,” I said, using my elbows to lift myself up a bit on the couch. “The pain’s not so bad anymore. I switched to Motrin.”

“That’s good.” He walked in, carrying a glass of milk and a sandwich on a TV tray. “Mom wanted me to see if you were hungry.”

“Nah, not right now.”

He bent forward, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. “Maybe later, then.” He straightened and looked at me, but didn’t say anything.

“So.” I pulled myself up to a sitting position to give him room at the end of the couch. “Any word from Ashleigh?”

“Not since you were saved,” he said, sitting down carefully. “I think she’s satisfied.”

“And you managed to leave the house and be the hero. Who do you think you are, Spider-Man?”

I expected a chuckle, but he stayed serious.

“When I realized Rylander had been Ashleigh’s high school boyfriend, I called you back,” he said quietly. “You didn’t answer and I started to worry. I called you again and again and realized something had happened. And … the anxiety … it was just gone. You were more important. Before I knew it, I was in the car, speeding toward Rylander’s house.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re cured.”

“I know.” He scratched at the fabric of the sofa, obviously hating this topic. “I told Mom. She’s making me see someone.” He rolled his eyes. “To talk about my feelings.” Each word dripped with sarcasm.

“That’s the right thing to do, Perry.” I adjusted my position, grimacing at my sore ankle as I inched up a bit.

“Thanks for not giving up on me after I acted like such a jackass.”

“Don’t thank me,” I said with mock indignation. “You’re my brother. I’d never give up on you. You’re the most important person in the world to me.” I quickly added in a hushed voice, “Don’t tell Mom. She’ll be jealous.”

Then he laughed, for the first time in a long time. It was the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard. And if my minor injuries had been the force that pushed him onto the road to recovery, then I’d wince happily.

Perry left to go call Nate and tell him how I was doing. Apparently, Nate had worriedly called for updates so many times that Mom temporarily banned him. As Perry walked away, he looked better than he had in months. Lighter, with his burden shared.

Perry thought I was the strong one, but I had a lot of fear. I’d feared letting Mallory in and nearly lost my chance at true friendship. I’d been frozen in my fear of hurting someone and that kept me from moving forward in my life. But it was time for all that to change. Hell, even Mom had a date planned next month for Phil’s sister’s wedding.

I glanced at my watch. School was out. I sent him a text:

can you come over

Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with his response:

be there in five

I lifted myself up onto my crutches and hobbled out the front door. It was unseasonably warm. I eased myself onto the porch swing, wincing as I hefted my leg up to rest it on a wicker side table. I raised my face to the sun and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth on my skin. Thoughts rushed through my head. The usual fearful ones.

Was I making the right decision?

I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

I didn’t want to regret this.

I’d had a lot of time, alone in my room, over the last day or so, to think. I thought about Tiffany’s confession and the truth about Justin. I thought about Gabriel’s ultimatum and my feelings for him. I thought about the past and the future. I thought about losing someone and hurting someone. And I decided that it was time to stop letting fear paralyze me. I’d take a risk. Follow my feelings instead of my careful calculations. And see what happened.

I’d been so lost in these thoughts that I didn’t hear him coming up the porch steps until he stood right before me. He rushed forward and grabbed my hands.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I came by before, but your mom wouldn’t let me see you.”

I smiled. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been like the Secret Service since I got home.”

“I’d feel that way, too.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I wish I’d been able to protect you.”

“It’s done. It’s in the past. And I’m so sick of the past.” I hesitated for a moment, wanting to find just the right tone to convey the importance of my next few words. “I want to move forward.” My eyes searched his, to see if he got my gist.

“Do you mean …?”

I nodded and quickly asked, “Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not.”

He dropped to his knees before the porch swing, careful to avoid my outstretched leg. He slowly took my face in his hands and held it for a moment, looking deep into my eyes. Every part of me felt more alive — my heart sped up, my pulse raced, my skin tingled. I knew I’d made the right decision.

“Gabriel?” I said.

“Yeah?” His voice was breathless.

“Kiss me.”

First he took in a sharp breath, then leaned in, his lips so gentle on mine. As if he worried that I was going to disappear.

I laced my fingers through the back of his hair and pulled him closer, which elicited a small moan from his mouth. He pulled back for a moment and just looked at me. Like I was going to change my mind or panic and run away. With a little smile, I drew him back in for another kiss.

I couldn’t imagine my life without Justin in it, but I truly believed we were meant to be great friends. And that we
could
be. He’d need time to come to terms with my decision, but I knew he’d be better off with someone more like him. Someone who enjoyed the parties and the social scene that made him so happy. But that wasn’t me. I am who I am, and I
didn’t want to force Justin to change, either. That would be like asking a star to dim its light.

And I owed it to myself to give this thing with Gabriel a chance. He’d blown into my life like a hurricane, turned me upside down, challenged me at every turn. And, together, we sparked like lightning.

Were Gabriel and I going to fall in love? Be together forever? Live our lives happily as soul mates? Who the hell knew something like that? I sure didn’t. I can’t see the future.

All I knew was that I would love finding out.