“Do you think I screwed this up?”
I frowned.
“That she’s been in trouble all this time and I didn’t know it?”
“Kid, I don’t have an answer for that.” Rubbing a hand against my neck, I used the rough and raised ridges from the burns like some kind of self-soothing exercise. “I think—I think she’s got a lot of secrets and reasons to keep them.”
It was a fine line to walk, to keep from betraying what few confidences she’d given me, while also giving Milo the comfort he needed.
“But if her home life was good…”
“Even good homes have secrets.” At his skeptical look, I shrugged. “Steph and I do. She knows I did shit I shouldn’t have, she never asked. She’s never cut me off either. We don’t tell each other everything—sometimes I just don’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.”
Kind of like I didn’t want to see it in Emersyn’s. The hurt had been a thousand times worse.
“Liam and his parents have secrets. You know they aren’t aware of half the shit he does. I’d be shocked if they knew even a small percentage.”
The twins might have been separated by their own choices, but Liam had never left his brother or the Vandals behind. The only thing that changed was his address. They were still tight—or they had been until Liam took off to that expensive prep school. Then again, some of it was all about planning and I wasn’t too stupid to think there wasn’t a plan.
“So good or bad, she could still hate her family?” Even as he asked the question, he answered it with the shake of his head. “No, that’s not it. Because I’m her family too and she—doesn’t know what to do with me. To be fair, I don’t know what the hell to do with her either. None of this went the way I planned.”
“Life is what happens when we’re in the planning stages,” I told him as I stood. “You know Steph likes her proverbs.”
Milo groaned. “We plan. God laughs.”
“Yep.” I refilled my coffee cup.
“You going to talk to me about her?”
“Who,” I said, glancing back at him to find he’d turned to stare at me. “Steph?”
“No,” Milo answered, his tone and expression even. “About Ivy. You’ve been really circumspect about her, but I didn’t miss the way you looked at her that first day I was home.”
Fuck.
“I’m fond of her, she’s a good kid.” And that was all she could be to me.
“Right,” Milo said. “Well, when you’re ready to actually answer. I’ll be right here.”
CHAPTER 28
EMERSYN
I missed Freddie. I didn’t even know if he’d visited. Would he leave me something so I’d know? We hadn’t actually discussed that. Then, I forgot to look the first morning. I didn’t even think about it until I was halfway through group. When I made it back to my room, it had been cleaned. No evidence of a note anywhere.
Disappointment curdled in my gut. I hated that I hadn’t seen him in the community room or after lights out. How long since I’d last seen him? I thought it had been a couple of nights. Maybe longer. I’d gotten into an argument with the doctor about—something. I couldn’t remember. They made me do more medication.
Freddie did wake me. I didn’t get to go to the community room. Maybe I’d imagined Freddie. Imagined him, just like I’d imagined them. That’s what they kept telling me.
“This is a natural response to trauma.”
What trauma?
“The mind will act to protect itself."
From what?
“This is another sign of your post-traumatic stress, the sleeplessness. The nightmares. The violent acting out.”
Violent acting out?
“I understand how difficult this must be for you, but that’s why we have the group therapy sessions and why you need to also talk to me.”
No thanks.
Doctor Skate-Boarder always put his hand on mine.
“Talk therapy is an important part of the process.”
Right.
“All right, I think another session, then we’ll come back. All right?”
Did I really have a choice?
The answer to that was clearly no.
We didn’t come back, I didn’t think. I got lost in the floating place. The next day, after group, it was right back to Doctor Skater-Boarder. I really didn’t like him. At all.
There was a reason for that.
Oh, right. He was friends with my uncle.
In his office, he put his hand on my knee. Instead of sitting apart, he’d moved the chairs so that I had nowhere to look but at him. Gross.
“Let’s start again,” he said. “A few months ago, you were kidnapped.”
“No.” I hadn’t been. Even when I thought they had, they hadn’t.
They saved me.
“Miss Sharpe—Emersyn, I know this is difficult.”
“Yeah,” I told him, lifting my chin. “Because you’re an asshole.”
As hard as it was to form words, I fought against the numbness in my tongue and my lips. When he put a hand to my cheek, I slapped it away. It lacked the force—my mind stuttered, searching—Liam. The force Liam taught me to use. But the move still worked and he stopped touching me.
The doctor sighed. “Acting out is just another symptom.” Was he cautioning me?
“You don’t need to touch me to talk to me.” There. That was what made sense.
Only that just started us over again. A few months ago, I’d been kidnapped, or so he claimed, and I argued the point. After all, it happened to me. Right? Not him?
There was no community room or group today. They took me straight to the white static and the floating place.
The hum beneath my skin followed me everywhere, blotting out sound. When I went to the community room, Janice had to guide me with a hand on my arm. The table she sat me at was empty. The room was mostly empty too. I tried to focus on the television, but the buzz kept everything muted.
“Pretty Pussy Girl,” a voice greeted me and I blinked slowly. It took a moment to bring the man into focus. “Knock, knock.”
“What?”
“Nope, wrong answer.” The guy knocked the table twice with his knuckles as he sat down, then he emptied a box onto the table. Little cardboard pieces scattered everywhere. A couple of locked ones slid toward me. “Let’s do that again. Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” I blinked slowly as I picked up one of the pairs and pulled them apart then put them back together again.
“I am.” The answer came so fast it took me a moment to turn it over in my head.
“I am, who?”
“You tell me,” he responded, then slid a piece over and matched it to my pair. I studied him for a moment.
“I’m—” Who was I again? I wanted to lick my lips, but there was no spit in my mouth. I was… “Emersyn,” I exhaled slowly, then I shuddered. “I’m Emersyn.”
“Pretty Pussy Girl sounds better,” the man told me as he slid another pile of pieces to me. “But I’m Bodhi.”