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I rushed over, swiping the pictures from the carpet without looking at the rest, and shoved them back into the yellowing envelope. A part of me wanted to burn them, but I knew I needed proof that my nightmares were real. I needed evidence that I had slain the monster and freed myself.
Once I secured the pictures in their hiding spot, I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling swimming above me. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling. I just knew things were altered. Everything felt different now that another person knew my secrets—now that the daughter of the man who ruined me knew.
I closed my eyes, and Tori’s tearstained face flashed through my mind when I did. Sure, it was painful for me to have my secrets exposed, but what about her? She was finding out the man she loved and missed wasn’t the person she thought he was. She learned he was not the saint she had always made him out to be.
“Fuck,” I muttered, swiping at my eyes with the back of my arm.
Why did I care how she was doing? Why was I worried she was at her place having a breakdown? Her father was vile. He deserved everything he got, but Tori wasn’t all that bad. If anything, she was as innocent as I was in the situation. It was a double whammy. I was no longer hurting for just myself. Now, the pain of Tori finding out the truth about her father broke my heart as well.
I needed to run away—to breathe fresh air and clear my head. I dug through the clothes on the floor and packed my backpack. Leaving my room, I checked my pocket for my wallet and keys as I slipped through the party and into the night.
My bike roared to life when I cranked it, and as I drove toward the coast, the tiny drops of rain felt like icy pellets against my skin. I didn’t care. I needed something to keep me sober and on the right track.
FOUR HOURS LATER, and after a quick gas stop, I found myself staring at the infinity of the ocean with my toes in the sand. During the day on the weekend, South Beach would be packed, but it was just before sunrise, and the place was empty. The waves blew their mist my way as the morning dew settled over me.
I stood, letting my demons ransack me as I watched the sunrise before me. The brighter it got, the more my demons disappeared. Memories ate at my brain until finally, I was in the moment when I walked in and found Tori sitting on my floor with the pictures of my abuse scattered around her.
From the look in her eyes—the brokenness that stared back at me—I knew seeing those photos had ripped her apart. She had always been a daddy’s girl. What had seeing those pictures done to her?
I bummed on the beach for two days, hitting the beach park showers after cooking some fish over a fire. When Joker or Crow texted to check on me, I responded, but they knew how I was. They knew when I needed to get away, I ran to the beach. It was the only place I felt sane. It was like I was going home, and my mother was the wind calming me. I had never felt more off-balance in my life, and lying on the beach or slicing through the waves when I went for a swim was my form of therapy.
Once I packed up for home, I got on my bike and rode low and fast, but instead of going home, I turned into the parking lot of Tori’s apartment building. There wasn’t a crowd in the parking lot or any dealers sitting and waiting like usual.
I took the stairs to her apartment two at a time but paused and took a deep breath before knocking on her door. Was this really what I wanted to do? Staying away from her was the intelligent thing to do, but I had never been a bright guy.
I knocked twice before the locks on the door sounded, and her door cracked open.
Her eyes were swollen and red, rimmed with sadness I understood too well. I wanted to soothe her pain. I had years to quiet my demons the best I could. She was getting bombarded with all this information at once. I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
She nodded, opening the door wider for me to enter.
I stepped inside and looked at her space. It was small, run-down, rusted, and needed paint, but it was tidy and clean. She was doing her best with what she had.
A couch against the wall faced an old-school TV with a built-in VCR. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw a VCR. The TV screen was so fucking small I imagined she strained her eyes when she watched it. Framed photos of her and Gracie littered the room, and a lamp on a milk crate beside the couch sent shadows dancing on the damaged sheetrock walls. The place was a shit show, and again, guilt settled into my stomach.
The guys and I weren’t living in the lap of luxury or anything, but our place wasn’t a total dump. We had what we needed and more. Our place was comfortable with actual furniture and not milk crates. Tori deserved so much more than even I had. It was what she was used to … until I blew through her life, of course.
She stared at me, waiting for me to speak, but the words caught in the back of my throat, choking me. I had no idea what I wanted or needed to say. Instead, I let the first thing that zipped through my mind flow from my lips.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes went wide, filling with tears as she shook her head. “No. You have nothing to be sorry about, Koah. You did nothing wrong. You were the victim. You know that, right?”
My heart grew heavy, the beats struggling against the tightness in my chest. I used to be an innocent boy, and in my mind, I knew I did nothing to provoke her father to abuse me, but I still felt like it was my fault. It was as if I had pushed him somehow—drawn him to me without realizing it or signed my name on a contract drawn up the moment I was born. Bad shit happened to me. Something about me had to be wrong.
I nodded, unable to say those things to her. I looked away, letting my eyes skim the room instead of looking at her. I couldn’t. I had come to make things better, but I still felt embarrassed and dirty.
She moved closer, and the heat from her slid across my front. “Look at me, Koah.”
I closed my eyes and turned away, but she cupped my cheeks with her small, soft hands and made me look at her.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
I looked down and into her eyes—Lorne’s eyes. The same ones that haunted me and triggered memories I had spent most of my life trying to bury.
Her cool fingers slid across my heated skin as she palmed my cheek. “You were just a kid. I’m sorry I didn’t save you. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
