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I sit across from the older woman who, despite her graying hair, looks sharp and alert.
“I don’t want people pointing fingers at her, Mrs. Talessy.”
Mrs. Talessy raises a brow. “When you transferred Mila here, it was with the agreement that she could sit in special classes. She’s very smart for her age. This establishment has a reputation, Miss Taylor. I handpick every teacher and discretion is very important to us. You two have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Zayn, who insisted on accompanying me, nods. “You can guarantee her safety?”
The woman eyes Zayn, assessing him. “On school grounds, yes. And we won’t hand her over to anybody who is not you, or her aunt.”
Agatha is added as one of the people who is allowed to pick her up.
“Then you have us convinced.” Zayn reaches out and shakes Mrs. Talessy’s hand as if securing a business deal.
“Thank you, Mrs. Talessy.”
I am awarded a warm smile. “Of course.”
As we walk out, I stare at the ground. “I agree with her, but I still want to keep Mila locked up in the house till everybody forgets all this.”
Zayn opens the car door for me, and I slide in.
He doesn’t say anything as we drive to the hospital to check up on Lorraine.
Four days have passed.
I opted to sleep in the guest bedroom.
The night I spent in Zayn’s arms was sin and pleasure. He carefully took me apart and put me back together in the most vicious of ways, and I loved it.
Those few hours gave me back my sanity. It calmed down the fear that was bubbling over, the sense of loss as I tried to fix my life, which was falling apart at the seams.
I needed his touch to anchor me back to reality.
But I haven’t expected to crave it so much.
That one night wasn’t an invitation to start a physical relationship with Zayn, and he knew it. However, every night, he would ask me, “Where do you want to sleep?”
And every night, I would hear my voice telling him, “The guest bedroom.”
He would leave his door slightly ajar, an open invitation, and sometimes when I tossed and turned at night, I wanted so desperately to get up and go
to him, to crawl into his bed, into his arms, to kiss the column of his throat, to beg him to take me again.
And yet, something held me back.
An odd fear that gripped me.
Trying to break out of my thoughts, I ask, “Has Lorraine said anything to the police yet?”
Zayn shakes his head. “The doctors have told her not to speak. But she doesn’t seem to remember anything from that night. They say the trauma was too much and she’s blocked the memory.”
I stare out the window. “Is that possible? Can you really block out the most traumatic memories?”
There is a wistfulness in my tone that he catches on to because I see the sharp look he aims my way. “Some people have enough strength to deal with it. Some don’t. To prevent themselves from breaking, their mind automatically protects itself.”
“So, why am I going to see her? I thought Zelda didn’t want me anywhere near her.”
Lorraine’s mother lashed out, refusing to allow me any contact with her daughter. She needed someone to blame, and she chose me.
