Unraveled (14 page)

I look away.

Noah reaches
for me but I shift out of his reach and he sighs. “I won't give up on you like
you want me to. It was wrong to go through your personal belongings but I'm not
sorry. I'll never be sorry for trying to be there for you, even when you don't
want me to be,” he says simply before he bends down and grabs the Band-Aid’s
and Kleenex before he leaves my room.

I reach out
and quietly shut the door.

There is
absolutely no excuse for getting out of Thanksgiving. Nothing I come up with
would make it okay to bail on a holiday that my brother is looking forward to.
So with great care, I get ready as the scent of turkey and stuffing drift up
the stairs. I'd heard Noah preparing for the dinner early this morning and as I
run the brush through my hair with jerky strokes, I can hear the two men
downstairs laughing and clearly enjoying each other's company.

I set the
brush down and bite my lip. I actually feel guilty for being present during
this dinner. I'd clearly been invited but yet I feel uneasy—like I don't belong
there. My eyes lift to my reflection and I stare long and hard at myself.
Noah's right. To some extent my aunt and uncle have brainwashed me. Their
beliefs have in a way become my beliefs.  I don't know how to break it. I
don't know how to make myself feel better.  

A wary sigh
escapes me as I turn to leave the bathroom. Somehow, I am going to have to find
a way to eat dinner with them and try to enjoy it. My footsteps are silent as I
make my way downstairs. I'm dressed in the black pants I'd worn to Blake's
funeral and a nice tank-like blouse. I'd left my feet bare since we weren't
going anywhere.

When I reach
the kitchen, I hear my name and pause in the hall, listening.

“You sure he
hasn't bothered her at all?” Tate is asking Noah.

“Not that I
am aware of, but Blayre isn't the type to announce it if he is.”

“That's the
problem with her. She never really comes to me about anything,” my brother says
with a hint of frustration.

“Give her
time. She's still adjusting from the move and all.”

“It's not
that. I feel like there's something else but I can't quite put my finger on it.
Did you know that she hasn't ever made a move to be affectionate towards me? I
think I've hugged her twice now and she's never been the one to initiate it.
It's like the second I get close to her, she distances herself from me.”

My fists
clench at my sides with the realization that Tate
had
noticed that I'd
been keeping him at arm’s length.

“I
think...maybe you should talk to her sometime. But not today. Let's just enjoy
the day and keep things light. Where is Blayre? Dinner's pretty much good to
go,” Noah says as I hear the sound of plates being set on the table.

“I told her
dinner was ready about ten minutes ago. I'll go get her,” I hear Tate say.

I quickly
scramble up the steps as fast as I can, grateful that my feet are bare. Then I
spin around and begin to walk nonchalantly back down the stairs where I come
face to face with Tate near the bottom.

He grins.
“Hey. I was just coming to get you.”

“Everything
smells good,” I comment as we go back down the last two steps together and head
for the kitchen. I see that the kitchen table is full of platters of food and
an extra chair has been brought to the table. I also note that my brother and
Noah had taken time out to dress nice and were in pants and nice shirts.

Noah smiles
at me. “Happy Thanksgiving, Blayre.”

“You too,” I
murmur before directing my attention to all the food that's piled up on the
table as I avoid looking at him for too long. Things have been a little tense
between us lately. I've had a hard time forgiving him for invading my privacy
and I found another hot-line card again the other morning, this time taped to
my brush. It was hard to be mad at him but I was a bit annoyed that he was
reverting back to pushing me to get help.

We all sit
down at the table and Tate grins widely as he looks at the feast before us. “For
once, you outdid yourself, man,” he says to Noah.

Noah
chuckles. “My motto is go big or not at all. We'll have leftovers to last a few
weeks.”

“Works for
me,” Tate says before he turns to me. “Want to say grace?”

My heart
skips a beat and my mouth goes dry. I manage to force a smile and say, “No,
thanks. You do the honors, it's your house.” 

I can feel
Noah watching me intently but I ignore him. We all reach out to clasp hands and
I am aware of Noah's warm hand in mine. He squeezes my hand just enough to let
me know that he's aware this meal is uncomfortable for me.

My eyes drop
and shut as Tate says grace. Then we dig in. I'm just beginning to relax and
enjoy the food when Tate drops the bombshell.

“So,
Thanksgiving is a time for appreciating one another and giving thanks. I think
we should go around the table and say what we are most thankful for this year.
I'll go first,” he says before he turns to me, his green eyes warm as he gazes
at me affectionately. “I am most thankful this year that Blayre is here. That
we're once again a family.”

My fork
clatters to my plate loudly and I ask sharply, “How can you say that?”

The words
are out of my mouth before I can pull them back.

Tate's
expression clouds up and he looks at me uncertainly. “I'm not sure what I said
that has you...upset.”

“I ruined
our family. How can you even stand to look at me?” I demand.

A stunned
look crosses his features and he looks like he's struggling to say something
but I don't want to hear it.

I quickly
rise to my feet, tossing my cloth napkin aside as I make a move to leave the
table. Noah's there in an instant, his hand firm on my arm as he keeps me in
place where I stand. “Let me go!” I snap at him.

His eyes
look tortured when he says, “No. No more running. Tate needs to know the truth,
Blayre.”

The blood
drains from my face as I suck in a quick breath. No... He wouldn't! A painful
tightness in my throat makes itself known as I stare at Noah while panic begins
to unfold within me.

“What the
hell is going on?” my brother demands as he rises to his feet, his eyes
shifting between me and Noah.

“You
promised!” I say anxiously as I look at Noah with stricken eyes.

“I promised,
but I also made it clear that you were going to have to tell him. Now is the
time to come clean because I am done watching you destroy yourself,” he says
grimly. I watch with horror as he turns to Tate and says simply, “She was going
to run from this table and go upstairs to cut herself. It's how she handles the
emotions she doesn't want to deal with. She's a self-mutilator.”

In this
moment, I hate him. I want to scream at him that he's hurt me more than anyone
else in this lifetime ever could but instead I find myself reluctantly turning
my attention towards Tate.

My brother's
mouth opens, then shuts as he looks from me to Noah and then back to me again.
“He's serious?” he asks me faintly.

I want to
deny it and lie but I can't. The lies are caught up in my throat and I can't
seem to find my voice anymore. All I can do is stare at him painfully as my
shame catches up to me and rips my world apart.

“You...you
actually cut yourself?” he asks, revulsion clear on his face.

“She has
scars on her inner thighs and above her bikini line,” Noah says flatly.

I turn on
him and glare because he didn't need to go into detail. He's done enough damage
and this is unforgivable. “I hate you!” I say bitterly as I tremble with fury.
My fists clench at my sides and all I want to do is hit him or hurt him like
he's hurt me.

His face
twists with pain but he doesn't look away. “If that's what it takes to get you
help.”

“Slow down,”
Tate orders as he comes out of his shock. His eyes turn to me with dawning
horror before he turns on Noah angrily. “How the hell do you know all this? Why
you and not me?”

I'm furious
and I turn so Noah can read my lips while I speak to Tate. “Noah knows because
he felt my scars when he almost fucked me.” 

If I'm going
down, so is he. It's petty, but I don't care.

The color
drains from Noah's face before he gives me a hard look while my brother stares
at Noah incredulously. “You've been messin' with my little sister?” 

I'm not
sticking around for the rest of this and I spin around just as Tate makes a
move towards Noah. I rush from the room and race up to my bedroom where I shut
the door and lock it with shaky fingers. This can't be happening! My heart
feels like it's been shredded into pieces from Noah's betrayal and Tate's
revulsion. I'll never forget the way my brother looked at me moments ago.

This
is what I was so desperately trying
to avoid. Tate's all I have left in the world and for him to look at me that
way...

My feet
carry me to the corner of my room where the razor lays beneath the carpet. I
freeze a foot away from my only source of comfort when someone pounds on my
bedroom door. Frustration sweeps through me as I realize there's no time to
take care of myself the way I want to. I can't run from the upcoming
confrontation, it's been a long time coming and I need to force myself to deal
with it.

A loud crack
sounds and I spin around to see my door slamming open, Tate crossing the
threshold as he rushes in, his eyes anxious. His gaze rests on me and a flicker
of relief crosses his features when he sees me just standing there.

Helplessness
sweeps through me as my eyes fill with guilty tears. “I killed them, Tate.”

He quickly
crosses the room and pulls my stiff body into his arms and holds me tightly,
his mouth close to my ear as he says fiercely, “You were four-years-old,
Blayre. You didn't know any better.”

I shake my
head against his chest, not believing him as I try to struggle out of his arms.
There was no excuse for what I'd done fourteen years ago. I'm desperate to get
away from him but he won't let me go as his arms tighten around me, holding me
in place.

One of his
hands cups the back of my head and he keeps talking since I can’t go anywhere.
“Mom and dad are dead because a number of unfortunate incidents led to that
night,” he says firmly in my ear. “They were smokers. Hard-core smokers and
they left their lighters all over the damn place. Even at nine, I tried to pick
up after them. They loved us to pieces Blayre, but they were young and
immature. They didn't think to have fire safety talks with us and they always
forgot to change the batteries in the smoke detectors. A lot of their choices
led to their deaths.”

My struggles
cease as his words begin to sink in. For a long moment I stand still in his
arms before I pull my head back enough to peer up at him uncertainly. My eyes
widen when I see the truth in his eyes. He wasn't just saying these things just
to make me feel better, he truly believed them. “You don't blame me?” I ask a
bit weakly as I continue to search his gaze, waiting for the resentment or
anger to shine through but it doesn't.

“God, no.
Don't you remember all the talks we had when you were younger?”

I shake my
head.

“I told you
over and over when you were little that it wasn't your fault. You were so young
and confused, even at that age you blamed yourself. I spent years assuring you
that no one blamed you. You don't remember any of this?” he asks, his eyes
searching mine.

“No.”

“You were
fine when I left, Blayre. What changed?”

A movement
in the doorway catches my attention and I see Noah standing there, an ugly
purple bruise developing around his left eye. I can't bring myself to care in
that moment that Tate had gone after him.

Noah's brown
eyes capture mine and he gives me a reassuring look. “Tell him everything. He
needs to know.”

Tate frowns down
at me, hurt glaringly evident in his eyes. “He knows but you won't tell me,
your own brother?”

I'm
uncomfortable standing in his arms so I pull back and he reluctantly lets me
go. “Let's go downstairs. I'll tell you everything,” I say with defeat. It's
not possible to hide it anymore. I'm sure if I don't tell him, Noah will.

We head
downstairs and Tate leads me to the living room where we sit down on the couch.
I note that Noah has seemed to disappear and I am relieved. I can't face him
right now. Tate sits down next to me, his eyes grim as he waits for me to share
all the things that I've been keeping from him for so long.

There's no
turning back and I begin to tell my brother about my life with our aunt and
uncle. At first he looks confused before his expression begins to turn to
horror, anger and most heart breaking is the guilt that haunts his eyes. By the
time I am finished, his eyes are full of unshed tears and a muscle is ticking
in his jaw. His fists are clenched at his sides and I reach over and
tentatively touch one of his hands. There was no blame in my heart where he was
concerned. He hadn't known and I was the one who'd kept it a secret.

Tate
swallows hard and his hand turns over to clasp mine. “All this time I thought
you were safe. They were always a little over the top, but this... I should
have known or something. God, I'm so sorry,” he says in a choked tone as his
eyes meet mine.