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“No. You can’t.” I didn’t want the attention he dragged with him.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. I did a quick scan of his face. He wasn’t scowling. He wasn’t smiling either. His brows were drawn together and he looked . . . pensive. Contemplative.
“I can. And we are. And don’t change. Nuns are a sweet-ass fantasy of mine.” He jerked open the door and shut it behind him.
I collapsed back on the bed, arms outstretched above my head, clasping the pillow and pulling it over my face. My screwed-up mind was short-circuiting.
Something had triggered the memory. A hand on my shoulder wouldn’t normally set me off, but my emotions were shooting off like pellets and I needed to run again.
The wind pushed against the windowpane and I trembled. Closing my eyes, I sang to myself, the sound muffled under the protection of the pillow.
16 years old
“HAVEN?” THERE WAS a light tapping on my door and my eyelids peeled open. My eyes rolled back in my head before refocusing.
Gerard stiffened, his hands locked onto my wrists, pressing them into the mattress on either side of me. “Answer him,” he spat into my ear. “Tell him you’re in bed already.”
I was too drugged up to refuse, my haze a spiralling spectrum of colors in my surreal dreams. Gerard’s voice was wonky and deep as if he was talking in slow motion.
A sudden hard sting hit my cheek. “Tell the little fuck to go away.”
“Sis? You missed classes again. I need to talk to you. Let me in.”
My head twisted to the side, the pillow easing the burning in my face from Gerard’s slap. There was a loud banging on the door and I stared at it, the wood appearing as if it warped and pulsed with the sound of his fist.
Cruel hands gripped my shoulders and shook me violently. My neck whipped back and forth as if it was attached to my body by a thin layer of skin. “Damn it. Answer him before he breaks down the damn door,” he growled in a low whisper, the heat of his breath wafting onto the spot just below my ear lobe. It tickled and I tried to move away, not liking the feeling, knowing I didn’t like what was happening to me, but being unable to do anything about it. I wanted to go back to the haze, the escape, but Gerard hovered above me, his glaring eyes furious.
I watched a bead of sweat appear at his hairline, dribble down to his right brow then drip onto his eyelash and disappear. His heavy weight lay on top of me and my nightgown was scrunched up above my breasts. The smothering heat of his revolting skin blanketed me and I had to get away, but my limbs were pathetic and weak, as if they were trapped in quicksand.
“Haven!” Ream shouted. One loud bang sounded on the door.
“Ream,” I answered in a soft ragged voice.
Gerard leaned closer, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up so that his mouth was against my ear. “Tell him you’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
Pain ripped through my scalp, awakening some form of reality of what was happening. “Tomorrow,” I managed to get out.
“No. Now. Something’s wrong. Let me in.”
Gerard swore under his breath. “Pull your shit together. You have two minutes to get rid of him or he’s dead.” He rolled off me and went into the closet.
I tried to focus, but my vision was blurry and everything was distorted, but I had to let him in before he broke down the door and Gerard came out of the closet and killed him.
“Okay,” I said, but it took me a while to get to the door and I could hear the floor creaking under my brother’s feet outside as he paced back and forth.
I opened the door.
Ream was my twin. We’d been through hell together and even though I tried to hide it, the second he saw my face, he knew. Our mother had the same look. He grabbed hold of my arm, yanked up the sleeve of my nightgown and ran his finger over the track marks. “Haven?” He let my arm go then cupped my head, thumbs slowly stroking back and forth. “Angel, what are you doing? Fuck.”
I didn’t say anything mostly because I was still fucked up and couldn’t, but there was also the fear of Ream discovering Gerard in the closet. My legs buckled and Ream picked me up and carried me to the bed.
“Why? Jesus, why?” Ream was stubborn, always had been and it was probably why he survived what he did in the basement. “Who did this? Who gave you the drugs?” His voice hardened. “Damn it, what is going on with you?” He refused to stop, his voice getting louder and I heard the rage in it. “Tell. Me.”
I just wanted to sleep. To curl up and go away, make Gerard go away, everything to go away.
“Who?” He came to his feet when I didn’t say anything and that was when he went ballistic. It terrified me. I’d never seen him lose control like that, kicking the old wooden chair in the corner of the room so hard the two front legs busted. He tore a painting down from the wall and put his knee through it. It was one we found in the back alley that had yellow staining on it. But it was a picture of a little girl with a palomino horse nose to nose.
My eyes kept going to the gun on the dresser, Gerard’s gun. Oh God, Ream was going to see it any second and when he did, he’d freak even worse. I had one choice—tell him now while Gerard didn’t have a gun or an advantage.
I reached out my hand and Ream stopped pacing and came over to the side of the bed. He knelt on one knee and I urged him closer. “Please, you have to stay quiet. Please,” I whispered, then said, while raising my voice so Gerard would hear me, “You used to sing to me.” He scowled, but didn’t say anything. I had to make sure Gerard didn’t catch on to what I was saying.
