I wasn’t aggressive before him. I was gentle and kind once.
Now I’ll forever be his slave.
“Oh, God.” I suck in a breath, the shackles of my life sentence tightening. “I’m sorry.” I swing around to the window. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t walk into a room where furniture was being thrown anticipating fluffy conversation and squishy boob hugs. You’re entitled to your emotions. If you’re angry, let it out. Same goes with the sadness. You can’t bottle it up.”
She’s wrong. I can keep it bottled. Luther made it impossible not to learn the skill when he despised vulnerability. And besides, crying would be the end of me. I’d start and never stop.
“I’m a good listener,” she adds. “Luca is, too.”
I return my attention to the fence, staring mindlessly as I force myself to be calm. “Luca doesn’t need to be burdened any more than he already is. I’ve destroyed enough of his life. And now his home.”
“Pfft. The guy didn’t have a life to begin with.” The mattress squeaks as she makes herself comfortable. “Listen to me. At the moment, you’re being pummeled. There’s grief, confusion, and fear. There’s loneliness, guilt, and longing. And that was before you even heard the news about Abi. Your only choice is to be overwhelmed. But you’re going to need to quieten the mass of voices to be able to move on.”
“You’re wrong. I barely feel any of those things.”
Hours ago, she would’ve been right. I was drowning in all those emotions. Not now though. What’s happening in this moment isn’t right.
It’s different.
I’m different.
“Then what do you feel?”
I can’t admit the truth. It’s heartless, learning about the loss of a loved one only to feel anger in response. It’s not natural. Not normal.
Luther’s influence is seeping into me. It seems the more time I spend away from the nightmare of my past, the more I’m dragged back to it.
I’m changing, and not into someone I like.
“You’re angry.” She releases a breath of a chuckle. “I guess we’re more alike than I thought, because that was my greatest struggle, too.”
There’s the slightest sense of appreciation in knowing my feelings aren’t unique. Just not enough to bring comfort.
“Rage tortured me the most,” she adds. “For weeks. Probably months. So I chased it down and figured out what it would take to silence the screams.”
I glance over my shoulder, meeting her gaze. “How do you silence anger?”
“Revenge,” she says simply. “I wanted retribution for what I’d lost. And what was taken from my family. That meant going after the man who destroyed us. I transformed my body into a weapon. I learned every type of combat and defense training you can think of. I did whatever it took to reach my goal.”
I believe her. The physical lengths she went to are still evident at first glance. Her arms show defined muscle beneath the feminine facade. There are scars on her skin. There’s hardness in her beautiful features.
“I killed those voices. And the man who murdered my family.”
A flicker of respect sparks inside me.
I’m happy for her, but it doesn’t mean I can do the same. Luther is already dead. Revenge isn’t possible.
“I’ll help wherever I can. Luca will, too. And there’s no hurry. Don’t even think about it today. But why don’t you talk to the other women you lived with? They might be able to tell you about Abi’s final days and help you understand what she was thinking.”
I shake my head. Nothing could make me understand.
“If not for insight, do it for support. You can’t keep battling on your own.” There’s another squeak of the bed. More footfalls. “Here.”
I turn to her standing a few feet away, her finger tapping her cell screen.
“Talk to them.” She passes over the device, a call to Benji written on the screen, the connecting tone humming through the loud speaker.
My hand shakes as I reluctantly take the offering. I don’t want to speak to Nina and Lilly. Not yet. Not when my betrayal to them is raw. They’ll blame me. They should blame me. I spent months protecting them only to leave when they needed me the most. Yet I can’t bring myself to end the call, the anger inside me begging for salvation.
“Hey, Sare,” a man greets. “This isn’t a great time.”
The voice is shockingly familiar, stunning me speechless. The tone is similar to Luca’s. Deep and graveled.
“Sarah?” he asks.
“Benny, I’m here.” She raises her voice from behind me. “Penny has the phone. Can you put one of the other women on the line? She needs to speak to them.”
My heart pounds, the need to disconnect waging war with the necessity to be soothed.
“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “Give me a minute.”
Silence rings in my ears, along with my heavy pulse, while I attempt to talk myself out of hanging up. This doesn’t feel right. I just… can’t.
Murmurs filter down the line. A scuffle of scraping sounds brush my awareness.
I push the phone toward Sarah. I can’t do this.
“Penny?” The syllables are entirely brittle. Yearning and needy.
I close my eyes and stiffen against a surge of guilt.
“Penny?” she repeats, this time frantic.
“She’s here,” Sarah answers. “She’s listening. I think she’s finding it hard to speak.”
I suck in a breath, dragging air deep into my lungs, praying for strength. All those emotions Sarah mentioned are right there—the guilt, the sorrow. They’re banging on the walls of my anger, trying to get in.
“Oh, God, Penny,” Nina sobs. “I don’t know what happened. Abi was excited to go home. She wanted this so much. It doesn’t make sense.”
“So it’s true?” I whisper. “She’s dead.”
I need to hear it, just once, from a reliable source. From someone I trust.
“Yes.”
I open my eyes and blink away the sear of unshed tears. I can’t cry. I won’t.
“B-Benji took us there this morning,” she stammers. “We watched from the end of the street as the police wheeled her covered body outside.”
“She was happy.” Lilly speaks softly in the distance. “She wanted to go home. Now I’m starting to think the home she referred to wasn’t with her parents.”
Bile churns in my stomach, threatening to join the party.
Heaven was not home for Abi. She would never mean that.
“Are you both safe?” My tongue protests against the words, making them sluggish.
“We’re being looked after,” Nina says. “Benji has given us everything we need. I’m just not sure where we go from here. We’re in Eugene, in the neighboring suburb to Abi’s parents, and were meant to be heading to my family in Gold Beach.”
They’re close. Within a two-hour car ride.
I could get to them. Help them. Protect them and make certain they’re stable enough to be returned to real life.
I could… but I won’t.