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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AVERY
The next days follow a similar trajectory. I stay huddled in my room, too overwhelmed to venture downstairs where Enzo and Eliza have taken over the house. I know they’re just trying to help, but I don’t want to have to see them or talk to them. It makes me burn with shame that they know so much of what happened to me. I haven’t dared ask if they’ve seen any of the video footage. I make a mental note to ask the cop, Elliot, the next time I see him.
Nathan is the only one I’m comfortable with, and maybe that’s because I’ve seen him at his absolute worst, too. I’ve scooped vomit out of his mouth with my fingers when he overdosed on pills, and I’ve been the one to check him into a rehab center more than once. I’ve thrown him into cold showers to sober him up, and let him cry on my shoulder when he was trying not to break. Adeline’s death really fucked him up, but it’s been years since he touched anything harder than weed or beer. So in a way, I don’t mind that he sees this side of me. It’s almost comforting having someone else who’s already lived their own personal hell, even though it’s miles apart from mine. The only thing I don’t share with Nathan is that I have the burner phone Will smuggled into the hospital for me. I keep it in a false bottom in the last drawer of my nightstand, only retrieving it when I know I’m alone. Will is so sweet; he asks how I am, sends me photos from our time together. He even jokes about meeting up at church. But I think he knows that after what I’ve been through, sex of any kind is off the table for a very long time. Having a lifeline to the outside world is exhilarating. It feels wrong, but it’s Will, for Christ’s sake–what’s he going to do that could ever harm me? He’s a puppy dog, and aside from Nathan, somebody I trust deeply. I feel guilty, though, that every time I text him, I’m wishing I was able to somehow speak with Rome.
I still haven’t figured out a polite way of asking Will if he can arrange some kind of phone call, and to be honest, I don’t think he’d be able to. The kinds of contacts his famous Hollywood father has are not the same as the kinds of underworld contacts on the Capulet Rolodex. I wouldn’t dare ask Nathan or Enzo, because I already know they see Rome as guilty in this and me as some mentally damaged hostage who can’t quite accept that one of her captors is someone she used to date. If I can somehow get in contact with the cop, Elliot, I know he can hook me up with Rome’s lawyer, at the very least. I just have to work my way out of this damn fortress of a house and out from under the thumb of my overbearing,overcaringfamily first.
I bide my time. It almost kills me, the burning in my chest at being separated from Rome. But I have no choice other than to swallow it down and wait.
More days pass after my shower panic attack. But after those days are up, I resurface.
I don’t resurface fully. It’s too strange, with my aunt and uncle moving through the house. Their voices echo off the high ceilings and their footsteps move down halls like they own the place. Nathan comes in and out, dropping onto the sofa on the other side of my room. He talks to me about vacations and drugs. We compare Narcan experiences. He orders me takeout and only makes the mistake of bringing it in styrofoam containers once. After that, it’s always on a real plate with real silverware.
On the fifth day, he asks me if I want to go out.
My body still aches, but it’s hard to tell if it aches more from constantly lying in bed or through the hellish beating of the six weeks in captivity.
“Yeah. I do.”
Nathan sits up. “Not to be a dick, but you should probably shower.”
He’s right. It’s been a few days between bathing.
An hour later, I come out of the bathroom looking like a poor imitation of my old self. I’ve blow-dried my hair, despite the protesting pain in my abdominal muscles, and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a black top that looks too baggy. Everything looks baggy. This is a situation I would have killed to be in during my high school years, and now it’s just another reminder that one way to become painfully thin is to be continually tortured for weeks on end.
Nathan waits at my bedroom door, furiously texting on his phone. My purse dangles from my fingertips.
“You’re in the way, Nate.”
He gives me a sidelong smile and shoves his phone into his jeans pocket. “I’m coming with you.”
“You really don’t have to.” Hedoeshave to. There’s no way I can get myself together enough to drive. But something in Nate’s expression makes me think this isn’t his idea.
“I do.” He stands up straight, squares his shoulders. It’s a weird look on him. In my house, we’ve always been casual with each other. “My parents don’t think you should go out on your own. It’s either me, them, or the bodyguard.” He laughs, and for a split second, it’s like none of this ever happened. “Joke—the bodyguard’s coming too, no matter who you pick.”
My stomach turns, but that’s because I’m hungry. Right? I haven’t been eating enough. I need something with calories. Something fresh.
“Take me to get a smoothie. The bodyguard can follow along in another car.”
The first trip out, we run into Will outside the smoothie place. The bodyguard, a suited man whose name I don’t bother to learn, follows at a conspicuous distance. Will’s eyes light up when he sees me. He looks so damn good in the sunlight. He looks like he’sbeenin the sun, unlike me.
“Hey, Aves.” He brings me in for a careful, tentative hug, and I wish furiously that people didn’t feel the need to encase me in bubble wrap. “How are you doing? Are you taking care of her?” He directs this last question to Nathan.
“Scout’s honor.”
Hilarious. Nathan would never have been a Boy Scout. Not even on the threat of death.
“You okay?” Will looks down into my eyes and somewhere, deep down, down so far I can hardly touch it, a warm affection lights up. It’s so dim. So far. I feel like I could reach for it forever and still not get to it.He feels like a stranger to me.
“I’m out.” I give him a smile that hopefully disguises the fact that a few months ago I was in good enough shape to get fucked in a mausoleum, whereas now, I need to rest halfway before I can even make it to the smoothie place from Nathan’s car parked thirty feet away. “I’m doing fine.”
I’m not fine,I want to scream at him. I’m desperately lonely. I miss Rome. I’m afraid my family will somehow find the phone, and then I won’t be able to get to you if I need you. I won’t be able to get to anyone. I have to have a bodyguard with me everywhere I go, and every single person in my house is acting like I’m a child made of glass.
“Good.” Will reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Have this guy shoot me a message if you need anything, okay?”
Nathan stands stiffly by my side, hands in his pockets. “Sure. I’ll message you.”
