Beyond Repair (Broken Girl Book 1) (17 page)

"Who the fuck has been messing around on the Webster site?" I can't hear the reply, but it's kind of good to see her being her usual bitchy self. "Well you can tell Lenny in Baltimore that he's a fuckwit of epic proportions. He's completely screwed the architecture, Col. No I'm looking at it right now."

She pushes her glasses straight and clicks a few keys on the laptop then looks over to me. She smiles and waves me over, "Yeah, I've done that. No, I don't know why he'd even be messing with JavaScript. He wouldn't need to touch that for the online pay system."

I hang my suit for tomorrow on the doorframe and join her, lifting her legs so they're over my knee instead of stretched across the entire sofa.

"You want my opinion? Fire him. He's a clueless prick who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Sure, fire me too. I'll take all my clients with me and run you into the ground," she laughs a little. "Yeah I thought as much. Okay I'll fix this, and then I'll see what's up with Carmichael. No, you can't give the client my cell number, are you fucking insane? Get Baltimore to field calls. Do I sound like I'm joking?"

Lydia looks at me and flashes an apologetic smile, "No it won't be done tonight. Tomorrow, probably. Yeah I've got a date, with pizza and my vibrator."

I hide my laugh when she winks at me.

"Yeah yeah, I'm the worst employee you've ever had. I know, but what are you going to do?" Her eyes roll. "Okay. See ya."

She clicks the hands-free again then pulls it off her ear and tosses it onto the coffee table.

"Sorry, that was my boss."

"Problem with work?"

"Nothing I can't fix," she smiles one of her rare Genuine Lydia smiles. "Thanks for coming over."

"So, I'm pizza and a vibrator now?"

"You use this part of the code to tell the system where you want to contact forms to go to. So say you want them to come through as emails, we put your address in here and then every time someone submits a form on the website, it comes to you as though they've emailed you. From that you can set up different parameters."

"What do you mean by different parameters?"

I laugh. Not everyone gets computers or technology, but I do. They're simple, uncomplicated, and they don't judge every mistake you make. Except Google. That bitch loves telling you what she thinks you mean. This though, this I could talk about all damn day, "Okay so say you have different departments within your company. You put categories on the contact form, say Accounts or Sales, then you set those contact forms to go to your Accounts department, or whatever."

"That's actually quite cool," Callum says, then leans back on the sofa.

After I got off the phone to my boss, he started asking me a bunch of questions about my job. I thought he was just trying to distract me from the ever building problems with my psych but now I actually think he's interested. The fact that I'm successfully distracted from the screaming in my head is just a bonus. I reach forward and pick up a slice of the pizza that's been sitting there for almost twenty minutes. I'm not really hungry, but I'll only get complained at if I don't eat. Besides, if I take my pills on an empty stomach, they make me feel funny and not in a psychedelic way. More like a I'm going to have a complete meltdown kind of way. At the moment, I feel more level-headed than I have in weeks. I don't know what Tyde's game is with this new medication, but I don't trust it for a second. I've emailed him and left a dozen messages to request an appointment but I've heard nothing back yet. My next step is to just turn up at his office. I'm an asshole like that. I'm going to demand he changes me back to my other pills. I didn't feel too weak on them. Not like I do with these.

"So," Callum starts, pulling me out of my head. "Say I wanted to set up my own website, and do that contact thing, how would I update the information on there. Like I've seen some where people who visit the site can post comments and stuff."

"Well, in your case, I'd hire me to do it for you," I laugh. "With comments, it's easy. Like leaving a review on Amazon or whatever. You have a comment board. You'd have to get a Web Developer to encrypt all of that for you, it's lengthy process."

He's nodding like I'm giving him the most important information of his life. I can't really explain why, but I love the way it makes me feel. I feel almost important, "Callum? Are you thinking of getting your own website or something? I think PleaseSleepWithMe.Com is already taken."

He offers me a dry look, but I can see the smile behind his eyes, "Funny," he grabs another slice of pizza and turns fully to face me. "Okay, so I have an idea, and I want to ask your professional opinion on it, but you gotta promise not to laugh at me."

"Would I?" At the arch of his eyebrow I hold up my scout's promise salute and train my face straight. "I, Lydia Rose Baker, promise not to laugh at Callum Anthony Reeves' idea."

He shakes his head but again the amusement is there, "Alright, comedian of the hour. I'm thinking about maybe starting my own PR firm. Maybe."

"Well, pal, don't sound too enthusiastic about it," I chuckle. "I actually think that's an awesome idea."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You're obviously good at what you do. Half the state now thinks our Mayor is a stand-up guy, when in reality he's a massive dick," I shake off the thoughts that immediately try and drown me from the inside. "I don't see why you can't go rogue."

I narrow my eyes playfully at him, "Are you telling me this because you want a discount on me making your website awesome?"

He laughs.

"No. Well, maybe kind of," His hand rubs at the back of his neck, forcing the dress shirt he has on to rise. Oh boy. A different manner of thoughts are swimming through me now and absolutely none of them are PG. "It's just an idea. I have to get this fucking parade out the way, and then I'm done at the Mayor's office."

I freeze. Well I don't literally freeze, my heart's still beating, but the rest of me ices up. Has my dad fired him because of me? Is he leaving because he finally understands how evil that man is? I hope so. I really,
really
hope so. If he's out because of me, I'll make him the best damn website he's ever seen to make up for it. I'll even force the people I know to hire him. I have friends, sort of, in high places thanks to Mom's estate. They're always calling me and pestering to get together. I still my thoughts. I'm getting ahead of myself. Way fucking ahead of myself. For all I know he's fucking off back to that preppy bitch girlfriend.

It would make sense. She’s flawlessly stunning, except for the furry vagina, and he definitely deserves that. The stunning part, not the furry vagina part. Callum Reeves deserves the best fucking vagina in all the land. The memory of first seeing him with Cerys flashes in my mind. They look good together, and apart from being a bit of a bitch, she seems sane enough. Normal. Now I'm depressed. I really need my brain to quit it with the mood swings. I don't want Callum to leave. I've sorta gotten used to him being around now. I mean, I want to kill him a lot of the time, but then sometimes he makes me feel good. Like the time he took me shopping, and the way he brings me food, and the stupid little text battles that we have. Hell, I even like fighting with him.

"Callum?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to leave town?" I ask, causing his eyebrows to skyrocket.

"What? No. Why would you think that?" He shakes his head. "I'm quitting my job, Little Bit. That's all. I don't want to work for your father anymore."

"Because he's an evil bastard?"

He laughs, "I don't know what it is between you two, but I'm not comfortable working with the man that covered up my cousin's nightmare."

That makes sense. Of course this is for Kitty. Everything is for Kitty. The only reason we are sat together on this sofa now sharing pizza is because we both love Kitty too much to continue our public hate. Callum has more restraint than me being able to be around him after what Officer Pervert did to his cousin. I wanted to tear heads off when I found out, but then I guess he doesn't know just how fucked up my father is. I force a smirk and reply, "So, yeah then."

"Maybe. I just wish I understood it. Why would he cover that up? What does that gain?" He sighs. "I've been meaning to thank you by the way."

"Who me?"

"Yes, you."

"Couldn't be."

"Shut up," he laughs, apparently not down for playing the Who Stole The Cookies From The Cookie Jar game. "For Kate. Back in school. You helped her, was there for her when I should have been. I was an ass to you for it too, and I'm sorry. Thank you for still being there for her, despite her older cousin being a prick."

I settle the laptop on the coffee table and sit back. Maybe it's time to let some stuff go. Maybe if I get some of the stuff in my head out, I’ll be able to wade through it a bit better. If I explain how it feels, explain what I face every day, then maybe it will be clearer. Maybe he'll understand that I don't deserve to be thanked for anything. I clear my throat.

"It's a mountain," at his sudden confusion I can't help the chuckle. "Stay with me.”

Deep breath, Lyds.
“Mental illness is like a mountain. Every day you wake up and you have to climb. It never ends and it's always uphill. As you climb, you have to fight off the urge to just turn around and let yourself fall back down," I suck in a ragged breath. This is harder than I thought it would be. Putting my thoughts into words has never been easy, they're too messed up. "The day I tried to kill myself, I was ready to give up that fight. I didn't know I was sick, didn't really know just how broken I was. I had no clue that there was help out there for people like me, had no idea that I could change and be someone else. I was done. I couldn't take it at home anymore. I couldn't take him anymore. It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff and my only options were to either start from the beginning and climb through all the same bullshit again, or jump. I jumped."

Callum takes my hand, clutching it tightly in his. It’s a small comfort, but I relish it all the same.

"My biggest regret is that it was Kitty who found me. I know that stayed with her and messed her up inside and I'll never forgive myself for it. I'll never forgive myself for still leaning on her when she was going through her own hell. So don't thank me. Don't thank me, because I wasn't there either. I was too late, and when she needed me the most, I let him send me away."

He's silent, looking at me as though he's seeing me for the first time. It nerves me and comforts me all at the same time. Callum has always looked right through me, and usually it made me fight harder to hide it. I don't now. I let him see it all. Every broken, fucked up thing inside of me. I let him stare through the layers of fake composure, the thick walls of other people’s perceptions crumbling under the weight of him. The bricks fall down until all that’s left is the tiny girl I work so hard to hide away, hopeless and beyond repair.

He reaches for me, brushing the hair from my face. His touch is warm, familiar, and somewhere buried deep inside me craves more of it. I can feel his understanding, hear his unspoken words of comfort. He knows what I am, he knows the things I've done, and yet he's here. He's here with me because I need him like I've never needed anyone before. I close my eyes tight, trying to blink away the tears threatening. I'm such an emotional fucking wreck lately.

"What did he do to you, Little Bit?" He whispers.

"Nothing," I sigh. "And everything."

I lean back against the arm of the sofa, pulling my knees to my chest, "He never hurt me, physically. He'd just take pleasure in making me feel worthless. I'm sick, Callum. I've always been sick. This isn't something that develops, it just amplifies. It's always been there, in the background of my mind. If I'd been properly treated for it as a kid, I'd have been able to walk around like any other human by now. I'm broken and he knows that. He’s always known that. He didn't try to help me, didn't care for me the way a parent should. He uses my weakness for his gain," I shake my head. "He liked to tell me that I killed my mother and that because of that he could never love me. Told me often that it should have been me that died and I actually had to agree with the bastard. If I didn't tell him that I thought the same, he'd lock me in my bedroom for days on end. He would tell me how he was screwing over half the town, then force me to make friends with their kids so I could find out information for him. It was all to keep him as Mayor."

I look at Callum, "You remember Adam Kent, right? How his dad wanted to run for Mayor?" He nods. "Well, Mark Baker made me fuck Adam so he could play a story around town that he took advantage of me when I was drunk."

"Little Bit, that's awful. You would have only been fourteen then," his head is shaking and I try and swallow my shame. "I had no idea. Why did you never say anything?"

I smile small, "When all you hear every single day is how inadequate you are as a person, you start to believe it."

The slippery depths of my own personal hell begin to call to me. The temptation of the solace it offers is almost too good to resist. There's no nightmares there, no need to drug myself into a new person. I can be me, because I'll be alone and unable to hurt the people I love. I could just let go, I could just stop fighting it and let myself fall into the darkness. It would only hurt for a little bit, only sting for a few short seconds, and then I'd be gone. Callum's hand touching my knee causes me to jolt back to reality.

"Stay here with me, Lydia."

"Sorry," I mumble, the instant fatigue washing all over me. "I'm just tired."

He stands from the sofa and begins to clear away the barely touched pizza and our soda cans. When he's done, he leads me into my bedroom and attaches my cell to the charger. I watch, mildly amused as he pulls back the covers and ushers me to get in. I slip my jean shorts off and do as I'm told, fighting back the laugh when he starts to tuck me in. I shouldn't make fun of him taking care of me. It's never happened before. He steps away from the bed and heads out the door. When he flips the light switch off and I'm all alone, the panic begins to set in. I can feel the wispy hairs of my nightmares teasing the edges of my brain. I grasp for my cell on the nightstand and tap out a text.