Twisted (11 page)

As I exhale with relief that
the night is finally over with, I step toward the hall at the same time Noah
happens to be coming from the kitchen. I am unprepared for the run in and as he
catches sight of my lip, his brown eyes widen with shock. “
Blayre
?
What the hell happened?” he demands as he crosses the last couple of feet and
pauses before me. His hand reaches out and then he's gently tilting my head up
as he peers at my damaged lip. His eyes slide to mine and they are full of
questions.

“It's no big deal,” I say
lamely.

His expression tightens. “The
hell it isn't. Come on.” His hand is firm but gentle in mine as he tugs me towards
the kitchen. He leads me near the refrigerator and then much to my shock, his
warm hands settle on my waist and he easily lifts me up so that I am sitting on
the counter top.

“What are you doing?” I ask
with surprise, but he has his back to me.

He yanks the freezer door
open and pulls out the tin full of ice. I watch as he sets it on the counter
near my thigh before he moves to a drawer and pulls out a zip lock bag and a
fresh dishtowel. He quickly puts together an ice pack for me before he walks
back over, his expression grim as he stands before me and tenderly presses the
pack against my lower lip.

I'm his height, thanks to the
counter top and I reach my hand up and take the pack from him, my hand brushing
his. I wait until his eyes are on my face before I lower the pack slightly and
say, “Thank you.” I hadn't expected this kind of reaction from him. I'd
expected questions, but hadn't expected him to want to take care of me. It
feels weird being taken care of. To have someone even care that I am hurting.

“What happened?” he asks.

Instead of applying the ice
pack, I hold it in my lap so he can read my lips. “I got in a fight with a
girl,” I lie.

His eyes narrow. “
That's
from a girl? Looks more to me like it came from a man's fist.”

“Some bitch was going after
Cole tonight. I got in her face and she came at me so fast I didn't have a
chance to block it.”

Those dark eyes shift down
from my lip to travel over my arms. They pause on my left upper arm. It was
still throbbing from when Cole had dragged me through the fraternity house.
Son
of a bitch.
I am betting I have black and blue bruises already. Noah's
entire body tenses and his eyes jerk back up to my face, his expression
darkening.

“Whatever you're thinking,
don't,” I cut in before he can say anything. I make sure he's reading my lips
before I continue. “Some guy pulled me and the girl apart, okay? He didn't mean
to hurt me.”

His expression is far from
convinced and his eyes soften. “
Blayre
...if something
happened tonight, it's okay to tell me. No judgment, I swear.”

“I already told you what
happened.”

He studies me a moment longer
before saying, “All right. You hurt anywhere else?”

“No.” I hold up the ice
pack. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” I say as I slide off the counter, trying not
to brush my body against his since he's still standing close.

“Goodnight,
Blayre
,” Noah finally says.

I glance at him so he can
read my lips. “Night, Noah,” I say before I turn and head for the hallway,
anxious to get away from those probing eyes of his that seem to want to peel
back the layers of my soul. I feel awful lying to Noah of all people. It
doesn't bother me as much lying to Tate, he's my brother after all. But
Noah...it just doesn't seem right. Noah's different.

The nightmare creeps up on me
from out of nowhere and I never see it coming. One minute I'm sleeping
dreamlessly and then the next I'm trapped in that horrific moment so many years
ago. I am caught up in the night that has changed my life and Tate's forever.
Even as the nightmare unfolds, I twist in my sheets, desperate to flee the
memories. I don't want to live it again...not again...

I'm bored and wide awake.

And I have to pee.

I climb out of my bed, and
clutch Mr. Cuddles in my arm as I shuffle over the carpet and leave the room to
use the bathroom across the hallway. The night light is on and I walk over to
the toilet as I gaze around at the shadows. Mommy had decorated the bathroom in
Tate's favorite cartoon character this year and I was jealous. I didn't want to
look at Spider Man when I was in here. I wanted to see princesses. Or unicorns.
Or even Sponge Bob.

I giggle as I slide off
the toilet and adjust my nightie. Sponge Bob would be pretty neat. The walls
were already yellow and Sponge Bob and Patrick would love it in here. I'm for
sure asking mommy to do my favorite cartoon character next year when it's my
turn to choose the decorations for the bathroom I share with Tate.

My throat is dry, so I
carry Mr. Cuddles with me as I make my way down the darkened stairs. I'm
tempted to go in Tate's room and play with some of his big boy toys since he's
at an overnight sleepover, but I decide not to. If Tate knew I was
messin
' with his room, he wouldn't play with me the rest of
the weekend.

I carefully set the
stuffed frog on the counter top and I look at him solemnly in the dark kitchen.
“What are we thirsty for?” I whisper. I lean in close and nod. “Soda. Yep, I
like soda.” 

I walk over to the kitchen
table and grab one of the large chairs. It's heavy and I grunt softly as I drag
it across the linoleum to directly in front of the cupboard where the glasses
are located. I climb up and open a cupboard door before grabbing the first
plastic glass I find and climb back down. Once I grab the heavy bottle of soda
from the refrigerator, I carefully pour some in the cup as I purse my lips
together slightly and concentrate hard on not spilling.

I would be in big trouble
if mommy caught me doing this. The last time she'd caught me, I'd lost all
cartoon privileges the next day and Tate had taunted me with all his boy '
toons
.

“I did it, Mr. Cuddles! No
spills!” I exclaim in an excited whisper as I grab the bottle and put it back
in the refrigerator. Next, I grab the chair and drag it over to the table.
That's when I spot the package of white sticks and the fire thingy mommy or
daddy had left out.

After a moment of
hesitation, I grab both in my small hands and then I hurry back to Mr. Cuddles.
I tuck him under my arm, grab the cup of soda, and then slowly make my way back
upstairs to my bedroom.

Once I set the cup on the
nightstand, I shut my bedroom door so that if mommy or daddy get up, they don't
see what I am doing. I sit down in the middle of my room and put Mr. Cuddles
down next to me as I study the white sticks and fire thingy. What was it they
called it? Oh yes, a lighter. Mommy and daddy put these white sticks in their
mouths all the time after the lighter made them glow and smoke. I'm curious
about them. Did they taste good? Like strawberries? Were they like pixie sticks
and all sugary?

I glance at Mr. Cuddles.
“What do you think Mr. Cuddles? Should I pretend to be mommy?” I tilt my head
and listen to his voice in my imagination. “I know I shouldn't, but I'll only
try one! I'll put them back after I'm done, I swear.”

After setting the package of
sticks on the floor, I turn the lighter over and over in my little hands as
moonlight falls across the room from my window. I've watched mommy and daddy
when they use these and as I concentrate fiercely, I try to push my thumb down
on the little circular thing and I hear it click…click.

My hands are sweaty so I
set it down a moment, wipe my hands on my pretty nightgown and then I pick it
up and try again. It takes a bit but then I finally get that pretty orange
flame to appear. An excited squeal escapes me, causing me to jump with fear
that mommy and daddy might have heard me and I drop the lighter. The flame
flickers and then more flames begin to appear along the carpet. I stare down in
puzzlement as I slowly move backwards. That wasn't supposed to happen. It
wasn't supposed to do that!

The orange squiggly flames
are heading for Mr. Cuddles and I quickly grab him before backing out of my
room, eyes wide with fear as an orange glow began to flicker along my walls.
What did mommy and daddy say if there was a fire? Go outside and wait by the
mail box. That is where they'd meet me.

I spin around and race
downstairs to the front door. I yank on the handle after unlocking it but the
door still won't open. Puzzlement sweeps
through me
until I look up and remember there's another lock. I run
towards the kitchen and grab the chair. I struggle with its weight as I drag it
across the living room, glancing back towards the hall that leads upstairs. I
smell something really bad. And there's black smoke billowing down the stairs.

I need to hurry.

After what feels like
forever, I drag the chair to the door and then I climb it and turn the long
twisty lock. I hear a click but I can also now hear a roar coming from upstairs
and I'm beginning to cough now. Finally, I shove the chair aside and once again
try the door knob. This time I am able to yank the door open. I shove open the
front screen door and race out into the cool night air, clutching Mr. Cuddles
tightly as I scurry down the driveway to the mailbox and wait.

I turn around and stare at
the orange flames that are coming out of my bedroom window and Tate's room.
It's loud and I hear glass breaking. Where are mommy and daddy?

“MOMMY! DADDY!” I scream
towards the house. Why weren't they coming out?

“
Blayre
!”
Someone grabs me and pulls me into their arms. It's Mrs. Roberts, our next door
neighbor. Her hair is messy and her features are pulled back in relief at the
sight of me as she clutches me in her arms.

“Where are your parents,
Blayre
?” Mr. Roberts asks calmly as he rubs my back.

With one little finger, I
point towards the house.

“Oh God, Ned,” Mrs.
Roberts gasps.

I watch as Mr. Roberts
takes off running towards the house.

I wake up with a broken gasp and
sit straight up in bed. My stomach heaves and I rush out of my room and into
the bathroom across the hall. All the alcohol I'd drank earlier rushes up and
out of my mouth as I gag and vomit in the toilet. After I heave, over and over
again, my stomach finally settles down.

With shaky hands, I yank some
toilet paper off the roll nearby and wipe my mouth. Then abruptly, I rise to my
feet and quickly shut the door, locking it. Anxiety sweeps through me and I
pull open the small closet door and grab my box of tampons. I'd hidden one of
my razors in there a few weeks back. The second I feel the cool metal in my
hand, I feel better.

But only slightly.

There is only one thing that
is going to calm me down and I quickly drop my shorts. As I sit down on the
edge of the tub, I realize I am gasping for breath, my eyes burning with unshed
tears. Because my hands are shaking so badly and I have too many fresh cuts
around my pelvic area, I choose a new spot on my inner thigh.

I draw the metal across my
skin. An odd sense of peace sweeps through me as I watch the scarlet drops of
blood drip softly down to the tub. I draw in a deep breath and savor the rush
as I stare intently at the cut I'd made. Everything is going to be okay now. My
nightmare is over for the night and tomorrow would be a new day.

I am dreading facing Tate,
especially since it is Saturday and there is the possibility I'll have to deal
with him the entire day if he doesn't already have plans. It doesn't take much
for me to freshen up in the mornings, a quick shower and a comb through the
hair is all I usually need.

Today is a different.

I stare hard in the mirror at
my reflection. Everything is normal but the large bruise that stands out like crazy,
about the size of a fifty-cent piece around the corner of my mouth. The cut had
hardened up into a scab last night and it definitely did not look appealing. My
best bet is to use the makeup Paige had talked me into buying and try to at
least cover the bruise. I can't do anything about the cut, but maybe if I cover
the bruise, it won't look so bad. It takes ten ridiculously long minutes of
using foundation and powder before I feel that the bruise is covered well
enough that no one will notice.

I shove all the makeup back
in the bag and put it in the closet next to my other belongings on the second
shelf. Now, I have to face Tate. I'm not sure if Noah would have told him or
not. I know Noah is suspicious and honestly, I can't blame him. I've been knocked
around by Julie before and there is a huge difference in how a man hit compared
to a woman. Girls tend to slap rather than punch. Not that there weren't tough
girls out there that knew how to throw a mean punch, but I've been around
enough violence to understand why Noah would doubt my claim.

After quickly slipping into a
casual shirt and shorts, I head back out of my room only to pause and walk back
in. My cell phone is sitting on my dresser and I can't help but pick it up and
turn it on. Sure enough, I already have a text message.

COLE:
Call me? Please?

I study the request for a
long minute before I delete it and set the phone back on the dresser. I don't
want to break up with him, but I
am
going to leave him hanging the
entire weekend. It is going to be a long and boring two days, that's for sure.

When I walk into the kitchen,
I find that it's just Tate and he's standing near the patio doors, his arms
crossed over his chest as he stares out at the sun reflecting on the pool's
surface. I'm dreading this, so without a word, I head for the refrigerator and
dig around for something to eat. I'm not a cereal kind of girl, so I grab a
container of yogurt and shut the door.

When I turn around, Tate is
standing by the island counter, his green eyes shifting to my lip. His
expression tenses. “Noah said you got in a fight with a girl last night.”

“Yeah,” I say lightly as I
move past him and sit down at the island.

“What the hell is going on
with you?”

My head lifts and I look at
him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

Tate leans against the other
side of the island, his forearms resting on the counter as he peers at me, his
expression one of open frustration. “I've caught you drinking and now you're
getting in fights?” Something dangerous shifts in his gaze before he says, “Or
did that boyfriend of yours do that to you?”

I roll my eyes and pull the
tab back on my yogurt. “Why is everyone so quick to blame Cole for everything?”

“Because I met
him
once and I know his type. He doesn't show his face
around here or try to get to know us. Ever wonder why?”

“Uh, probably because you
were a total ass to him a few weeks back,” I point out sarcastically as I grab
my spoon and shove it in my yogurt.

Tate reaches out and catches
my hand before I can put the spoon in my mouth, his eyes serious. “
Blayre
, I want the truth. Was it Cole?”

I glare at him and meet his
gaze straight on. “No.”

He releases my hand so I can
eat. Then he sighs. “You seem different.”

“Different, how?” I ask
cautiously.

“I don't know. More distant.”

“I'm distant? You're the one
who works from four to midnight all the time and is gone on the weekends. It's
impossible to be distant to someone who's already distant.” 

Guilt immediately flashes in
his eyes and he hesitates. “
Blayre
—”

“I didn't mean it the way it
sounded,” I say quickly, realizing that it came off as an accusation. “I was
just trying to state fact, not throw around accusations or anything. I know you
have a life, Tate.”

“And that life includes you,”
he says firmly. “It's not like I'm trying to be distant from you...I'm just
used to going out and relaxing after I've worked a full week. I know I should
make more time for you—”

“Don't,” I cut in sourly,
giving him a look. “I'm eighteen and an adult. I don't need you to hold my hand
and keep me company. I'm gone all the time already as it is. I have friends and
I like going out. I'm fine.”

Tate looks like he wants to
say more but instead his eyes drop to my lip again. “How did it happen?” 

“I caught some girl hitting
on Cole,” I say as I eat another huge spoonful of yogurt.

“Was Cole flirting back?”

“What do you think?” I ask
dryly.

“I wouldn't know. I don't
know him.”

“He wasn't, he wouldn't do
that to me.”

“I see. So did he just sit
back and watch this girl punch you?” he asks, his eyes oddly watchful.

“No. He and a few guys pulled
us apart,” I lie.

“So this Cole and you are
serious?”

The yogurt is forgotten as I
turn my full attention on him. “Why all the questions, Tate?”

“Why not? I'm your older
brother and I'm just trying to look out for you.”

“You don't have to protect me
from Cole.”

“You never told me his last
name, what is it?”

I'm not hungry anymore. I
rise to my feet and look at him sharply. “So you can run a background check on
him? I don't think so.”

Tate snorts and straightens
up, arms crossing. “If I wanted to run a background check, I would have
already. All I need to do is have Noah get a look at the license plate on that
death trap of his.”

I pause by the garbage and
turn to look at him suspiciously. “You already ran a check on him, didn't you?”

“Clean as a baby's bottom,”
he says bluntly.

I raise my right hand and
give him my middle finger.

“Your nails look like shit,”
he says calmly. “Take some of that cash I gave you and get yourself a
manicure.”

If looks could kill, he'd be
dead right now. Without another word, I turn to leave the room and then I pause
and look back at him over my shoulder. “Why did you ask for his last name if
you already know it?”

“I was curious if you'd tell
me.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Then I sigh,
knowing I'd walked right into that one.

“You tell me.”

With a roll of my eyes, I
leave the room.

***

The rest of the morning and
afternoon seems to go by slowly. Cole texts me a few more times and I ignore
those as well. I had originally planned on sticking around the house all day,
but evidently Noah didn't have any plans and every time I ran across him at the
house, I felt like he was watching me. It was obvious he didn't believe me for
one second that Cole hadn't hit me. I also knew nothing I could say would
change his mind. If I defended Cole too much, that would be like admitting he
had.

In the end, I escape to the
mall. Paige works as many shifts as she can get her hands on, so if she's not
out with Blake, I can usually find her at the bakery.

She once told me that Blake
had applied at a university in Arizona and where he went, she went. She was
saving cash so that she could take classes at a local technical college in the
town that they'd be living. People don't realize when looking at Paige, that
she was smart as hell. She wanted to be an accountant and I'd even suckered her
into doing some of my calculus homework a few times.

For a Saturday, the bakery
isn't all that busy and when Paige looks at me, her jaw tightens and she sighs.
“Cole, I take it?”

“Yeah.” It was pointless to
lie to her, not to mention I find that I didn't really want to. I walk over to
a stool and sit down after she pulls out a cinnamon roll for me.

Paige leans against the
counter from the other side and studies me. “What happened?”

“I did something stupid.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing
is stupid enough to earn that,
Blayre
.”

I fall silent for a long
moment as I pick at the cinnamon roll with my fork before my eyes lift up to
meet hers. “Has he ever hit any of the girls he's dated before me?”

“Not that I'm aware of. He's
different with you, though.”

“Different how?” I ask,
setting the fork down and leaning forward slightly to hear what she has to say.

She's about to open her mouth
when a young couple enters the bakery and walks straight up to the register.
She shoots me an apologetic look and moves away to wait on them.

My cinnamon roll grabs my
attention again and I am halfway done with it by the time she comes back. She
sets a large soda down, complete with a straw in front of me. I look at her
with puzzlement. “I didn't order this.”      

She smirks. “It's on me. You
always ask for water and it's annoying. Why don't you drink soda anyway?”

My nose wrinkles. “Because
drinking soda with a cinnamon roll just sounds gross. Thank you, though. I'll
drink it afterwards.”

She nods. “So, what did you
do last night that pissed Cole off bad enough to hurt you?” Derision is evident
in her tone.

“Cole was ignoring me and I
don't like his games.”

“So you played one yourself,
huh?”

“It backfired.”

“You think?”

I shoot her a look. What is
up with everyone today? People were aggravating the hell out of me.

“Seriously, talk to me,
Blayre
,” she says, her dark blue eyes questioning.

I push aside my empty plate
and tell her about dancing with the cute guy and then how Cole had taken me
upstairs and hit me. I keep the details minor. I saw no point in giving Paige
more ammunition against Cole.

Paige studies me. “Let me
guess, you didn't break up with him, did you.”

“I know. It's stupid,” I say softly.
I'm not thinking clearly where he's concerned and I know it. But will I do
anything about it? Not likely.

“You know it'll happen again,
right?”

“You really think so?” I ask,
and as soon as it's out of my mouth, I know it's a dumb question.

“C'mon,
Blayre
.
You know once is one too many
times.
If it happens
once, it's going to be easy to repeat. Look, I get you like Cole. He's gorgeous
and mysterious if you like guys that are assholes. But Cole's life is rough. I
know a little about Cole's background and I'm not defending him by any means
because I can't stand him, but I will say he's never had anyone show him how to
do anything right. The people he hangs with are total losers and they think of
nothing but themselves. Ethan's the boss and when Ethan says jump, Cole jumps.
Why do you think he likes power so much? It's because he's never had any when
it comes to family. He's messed up as hell.”

I wasn't expecting to get a
little peek into Cole's private life and I can't help but stare at her. 
He never really talks about anything personal with me, so this is new
information.

“Damn it all to hell,” Paige
mutters under her breath before she shoots me a look and points her finger at
me. “My mouth ran away from me. Don't you
dare
feel sorry for
him.
What he did to you is
not
okay, I don't care how
he was raised. It's wrong.”

“I know, Paige.”

“Then get out,” she says
softly.

My eyes drop to study the
chipped counter top my plate is resting on. “I can't explain my reasons...but I
don't want to. I really like him.”

“He's going to hurt you. More
than you can ever imagine. It's inevitable.”

This has my eyes lifting to
meet her dark blue ones. “Probably.”

“Don't take this the wrong
way, but you're a fool,” she says lightly.

“I'm aware of that.”

Someone else comes up to the
counter and Paige moves away.

I take my time sipping my
soda, still in the mood to speak with Paige. I like how up-front the other girl
is. She doesn't mince words and I respect that. Was I hearing things I didn't
really want to have pointed out to me? Yes. But hadn't I just reamed myself a
new one last night for not doing the very thing that Paige wanted me to do?

I'm halfway done with my
drink by the time Paige wanders over to me. “Sorry,” she says as she wipes the
counter down before me after taking my plate away.