FRACTURED (3 page)

“You need to sit down,” Cooper ordered, placing me on the edge of my bed. “I'll take care of this.” While he walked out of my room to find whatever materials were necessary to clean up the mess I'd made, I wondered if there were enough in existence to address the metaphorical one I was in.

I looked up to see my phone taunting me from my nightstand. “Go ahead...call her,” it seemed to say. “One call will fix everything.” Then it laughed at me—an evil, all-knowing laugh.

“Fuck you,” I muttered, staring it down.

“Fuck
me
?” Cooper thundered. I hadn't even realized he'd returned.

“Is that the thanks I get for cleaning up your breakfast?”

“I'm sorry, Coop,” I said, hedging slightly. “I wasn't talking to you...”

Before I could process why, he shot up quickly, grabbing my shoulders to pull me closer to his face. He glared deep into my eyes, searching them for something.

“
Scarlet
?” he growled. “You and I need to chat.”

Suddenly, his actions made sense. It had been a while since Scarlet and I had had one of our little back and forth banters. I didn't realize when I answered him what my outburst would imply.

“No, Cooper. It's not her,” I said softly, trying to calm him. His hazel eyes started to glow with a hint of gold. He was pissed off. Big time. “The phone...I was talking to the
phone
.”

A look of concern quickly bled through the anger in his expression.

It was apparent that he was unsure of how mentally sound I was in that moment. In fairness, I had been talking to an inanimate object.

“I don't know how I can face Peyta, Coop,” I explained as I tried to coax him into sitting next to me. “How do you say sorry for being a party to the near death of the man she loves?”

“Ruby,” he said, the warmth returning to his eyes, “she loves
you
, too. She's never given me even the slightest indication that she blames you for any of this. She's missed you.” He finally came to sit next to me, taking my hand in his. “She's
mourned
you.”

“But I'm not dead,” I whispered.

“I know. In truth, I don't think she ever believed you were,” he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You would have been so proud of her, Ruby. She was so brave. When she learned that you had disappeared that night, she called me right away. She asked what we needed to do to find you. She has been the driving force behind the store, keeping it going. All she talked about was how we needed to have it running smoothly so you wouldn't have to worry about anything when you got back.”

I felt a tear escape my eye, rolling slowly down my cheek while he continued.

“She eventually went on as though you were just out of town, about to return at any time. That's when I started to worry about her—we all did.” His face grew hard, trying to mask the pain he felt, but it didn't matter; I felt every ounce of it. “She tried so hard to keep up the act, but when she thought she was alone, her true emotions came through—she was in a dark place inside. She didn't think you were coming back, Ruby...she just needed to
believe
you were.”

“I don't know what to say to her, Cooper. How do I explain something that I don't understand myself?”

“You think your return needs any explanation?” he asked, looking utterly perplexed. “Ruby, all that kid wants to do is wrap her arms around you and squeeze until they go numb and somebody has to pry her off of you.”

I wanted desperately to believe him, but so often I found myself on the wrong side of expectations. If that trend proved true in the Peyta situation, I needed to be mentally prepared for it.

“What day is it?” I asked, mulling something over in my mind.

“It's Sunday. Why?”

“Will you come with me?” I asked, giving his hand a squeeze. “To Ronnie's...will you go?”

He squeezed my hand in return.

“Go get cleaned up. I'll address your regurgitated breakfast while you do. We can leave as soon as you're ready.”

“Thanks, Cooper,” I replied, wanting to say more than I could bring myself to. We had so easily fallen back into our friendship, and I wanted to acknowledge it, but I knew my sentiments would somehow botch the moment.

I hoped that Peyta and I would be able to mend just as quickly.

*

The drive proved unbearably long, yet painfully short. Cooper guided the car along the familiar route while I fretted away in the passenger seat. As much as I was dying to see Peyta, a small part of me was terrified by the potential complications of the encounter and wanted to avoid them at all costs. I knew Cooper was speaking to me, trying to calm me, but I heard nothing. The voices of doubt in my mind drowned out all other sound.

When we turned into Ronnie's driveway, I felt as though someone was sitting on my chest. The pressure was intense, nearly piercing my heart.

“Did you call before we left?” Cooper asked, parking in front of the garage.

“No,” I whispered. “I thought it wouldn't matter. Besides...I didn't know what to say.”

“Well, I guess it’s a moot point now. Let's get this over with, shall we?” He popped open his door and got out of the car. I stayed where I was.

He paused partway up the path to the house, looking back to see if I was coming. He sighed heavily when he realized I wasn't following.

“Ruby,” he called, making his way back to the car. “You need to get out and―”

The front door opened abruptly, snapping our collective attention back to the house. Out stepped Peyta with an expression I'd never seen her wear—disbelief. Not once, in all that she'd been through, had I seen

'does not compute' register on her face. That day, I did.

I sprang from the car with an immediate need to hold her, but by the time I made my way to Cooper, she wore a very different face entirely. I didn't like it one bit. I'd seen that face too many times to count, but never on her. Stoic indifference looked all sorts of wrong on her, but she wore it like a veteran—her mother's daughter for sure.

“Peyta?” I called to her as Cooper grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me firmly where I was. He felt what I couldn't feel because of my own fear—
anger
.

“When did you get back?” she asked. Her voice was eerily controlled. That's when I first felt the hostility rolling off of her in waves so large I thought they would have washed me away if Cooper hadn't held me steady.

“Yesterday,” Cooper offered.

“How did you get back?” she asked, folding her arms.

“P,” I started, trying yet again to move toward her. Cooper's hold was unyielding.

“Why didn't you call?”

“There was so much to sort out when I got back,” I said, hesitating.

She was right; I should have called. A friend would have called—so would a sister.

“I see,” she replied, her voice colder than ice.

“You're angry,” I said, trying to placate her.

“I would have called,” she said quietly.

“I'm sorry, Peyta. I really am,” I pleaded. “Please let me explain.”

“I don't need an explanation,” she said, turning back to the door.

“I'm glad you're back.”

She walked inside and closed the door, leaving Cooper and me dumbfounded in the driveway.

“What just happened?” I asked him, looking up for a sign in his expression. I found none.

“I have no idea.”

“I can't leave it like this, Coop,” I said, feeling helpless.

“Then fix it,” he replied without any words of wisdom. “You're the only one who can.”

I thought about the girl I knew—the happy, loving sprite, whose powers of sarcasm rivaled my own. I thought about what she meant to me and I to her. Then I thought about how I would have felt if she'd left without a trace, without any reasonable explanation. How would I have dealt with her absence? How exhausting would it have been to keep up a façade of optimism while inside I felt part of my soul eroding slowly?

Peyta had an uncanny ability to make sense out of the insensible because her view of life was black and white. Shades of gray didn't matter to her at all. When she had learned what Cooper and I were, she accepted it without a second thought because she knew us and loved us. That was what mattered to her; what we were did not. So why did the 'why' matter so much to her in that moment? I was home and that was what she wanted. The details were just shades of gray—or were they? Something was holding her back, and until I figured out the why behind it, nothing would be right between us. I needed an epiphany in the worst way.

Instead, I got Ronnie.

“She took your disappearance really hard, Ruby. You can't expect her to shed that armor at the drop of a hat, can you?” she asked, making her way to the edge of the porch. “I've never seen her this bad before, though. She won't talk to any of us about it.”

Her face looked more grim than ever, which spoke volumes given Ronnie's history. She was worried about Peyta too.

“What should I do?” I asked, walking up the path toward her.

Cooper stayed behind, which was fine with me. I needed to solve the problem without exploiting his relationship with Peyta.

“Explain why you did it.”

“She said she didn't want to hear it,” I lamented.

“And you believe her?”

“I don't know what to believe anymore, Ronnie,” I sighed. “I feel like everything has flipped on its ass since I've been back. Nothing is the same. Nothing
feels
right.”

“That's because it isn't. You of all people should know what it feels like to lose someone. It changes you. She didn't just lose
you
,” she started, choking ever so slightly on her words. “She lost her father too.

Her world has slowly been crumbling around her, Ruby. Her uncomplicated view on life has become significantly complicated.”

“I can't fix that,” I whispered, coming to stand before Ronnie at the base of the steps.

“No. You can't,” she said softly. “But you can teach her how to survive it better than anyone else I know.”

I stood motionless, stunned by her words. Of all the things I expected to get from Ronnie when I returned, a nod of approval was not one of them. Once I collected myself, I started up the narrow stairs, trying not to get too close to her as I passed. She caught my arm when I stood beside her, halting my ascent up the final step.

“It's good to have you back,” she said, staring away from me, across the street. Her words were soft and gentle as was her hold on my arm.

However, her expression when she turned to me was not. “Don't ever pull a stunt like that again.”

Always black and white
.

3

Swallowing hard, I pushed my way through the front door and quickly made my way upstairs to her bedroom. I knew she'd be there; it was her sanctuary.

Just tell her the truth. It's all you have to do . . .

I knocked lightly on the door, knowing that she wasn't going to answer me, so I turned the knob before she could object.

“Peyta,” I called softly. “I've got to get this out...”

I quickly found myself standing alone in her room, talking to nothing but the TV that was still on. Knowing she was in the house, I started to storm the upstairs, throwing open doors in search of her. I wasn't certain as to why a feeling of distress took me over, but I just knew something was wrong. The more I focused on it, the more panicked I felt.

Frustration, helplessness, and shame overtook me, inexplicably forcing me to understand her reaction to my homecoming.

Control...must get control.

I thought and felt those sentiments as if they were my own, and that's when I knew where I would find her. The bathroom door remained closed at the far end of the hall, and I charged it like a bull seeing red. I crashed through it with a thunderous sound, busting the door wide open to a scene that disturbed me more than any I'd ever seen before.

Peyta sat pantless on the edge of the tub, her back toward me, completely unfazed by my entrance. I watched as she drew her arm back fluidly, her hand gliding along the inside of her thigh. Only once that pass was complete did I see the razor she held delicately in her hand.

“No,” I gasped, lunging for the silver blade before she could do any further damage. She didn't even fight me when I ripped it from her hand.

One look at her face and I knew I why—her trance-like state nearly made my heart stop cold.

“It should hurt, shouldn't it?” she asked, staring eerily at the tile in front of her. The white tub below her bled slowly to pink. “But the deeper I cut, the better I feel.”

“Why?” I asked, using the last ounce of breath my lungs possessed to force the word out.

She turned her face towards me so slowly that it was an almost inhuman action—unnatural.

“I was sinking,” she said as I stared into dull, empty eyes. “This kept me from drowning.”

“Peyta,” I whispered, crushing her in my arms before the guilt could overtake me. “I never left you. I would never leave you...I need you to understand that. Do you understand that?”

“You all left,” she said matter of factly. “But it's okay. This makes it okay.”

“This,” I said, indicating her bloodstained and scarred thighs, “is
not
okay. Peyta...this isn't like you. What's going on in your head right now? Please tell me. I'm begging you. You're
scaring
me.”

“I told you―I was sinking. This made me feel like I had some control over things,” she explained. Her focus came back slowly, removing the frightening appearance of someone who'd been temporarily possessed. "There's just so much...so much I can't control,” she continued, grabbing a towel from the bar beside her and pressing it to her leg. “First my father, then Jay, then you. It was too much. Don't you ever feel like it's too much?” she asked in a tone far too casual for the discussion at hand. “I felt like my body was going to explode, like every cell in it was fighting with the one next to it. I didn't know how to let that emotion out.

Everyone expects so much from me. I couldn't very well fall apart, could I?”

I said nothing, only stared in disbelief at her words. How could someone answer a question so riddled with disturbing subtext?