Smother (23 page)

She let her sister walk away, standing on the sidewalk long after she was gone. She was grieving for Morgan, grieving for them both. She stared at the school, knowing no one really saw her sister or what she was going through. They never had. They never would. There was no Morgan Ward.

Reese slowly turned and walked toward the bus stop, seeing nothing but a blond little girl laughing and smiling, her chubby arms wrapped around Reese’s neck to tightly hug her.

Morgan Ward was her sister.

The sun glared down at Reese and she wrapped her arms around herself, still cold. Always cold.

Morgan smelled like bubblegum and oranges and liked to watch ‘My Little Pony’ cartoons.

Reese tried to protect her, tried to protect something already gone.

She saw her empty eyes and drawn expression, the way she held herself as though to keep everyone away. She saw herself, saying it would be okay and not believing it. Leaving anyway.

Reese left.

Morgan left.

Reese sat down on the bench, waiting for a bus to take her away, like she took herself away all those years ago. She kept seeing her sister’s eyes, all the life sucked from them by a monster who stole it away during the black, black night. And she cried, because she knew Morgan really was gone.

Morgan Ward was dead.

She was dead three weeks later.

Reese took a shaky breath, head bowed. She wanted to fall to the floor and instead forced herself to move. She stumbled back to the living room, seeing the destruction she’d made. She sat down, digging through more of her past. How had he gotten these pictures? The more recent ones she could understand, but the older ones? He would have been a kid himself. Those had to have been given to him, but why? The dark-haired man, the stranger she once knew, the man she hadn’t recognized when she’d seen him in person—this was all him.

Then there were the pictures and information on almost every guy she’d ever been with—even Ryan and Daniel. Their dates of birth, their parents, where they grew up, where they lived, what they did, any criminal records. There were files on her, on Morgan—hers sadly ended a few years ago. Sawyer, her adoptive dad and her mother—they were all categorized and noted, their perfectly messed up lives on display for Leo to peruse.

Reese stood up and let numbness take over, needing it to shield her from that which she could not accept. She felt her body sway with it, wanting it to take over her mind instead of the shouts that formed. She slapped her hands to her head and squeezed, but all that did was make them angry, louder, more vicious. Reese gritted her teeth, tried to silence them, and when that didn’t work, she screamed along with them.

They wanted to be heard. They needed it.

She didn’t see Leo’s apartment. She saw wounds that never healed, eyes that lied, hands that touched where they shouldn’t. She wanted to break those fingers. Cut those hands from the wrists so he could never touch her or anyone else again. She wanted to hit him, to pound his face into the ugliness he was.

Reese spun around in a misshapen circle, knocking over a stack of books and sending the rest flying with her arm. Sobs left her, too loud, too full of grief. It was all so loud. Lies pounding in her head, words twisted with evil.

She saw her mother with her blind eyes, looking away, never seeing. Not wanting to see. Turning away, giving Reese her stiff back and nothing else.

Morgan with her dead eyes, too damaged to hope anymore. Gone in all the ways that mattered.

Sawyer hitting her, telling her she was nothing and making her think she was only something when he wanted her.

Black stained her eyes, filled her vision with streaks of clawing hands, reaching for her, wanting to shred her. Pulling her, always pulling her, back and back . . . and back. A roar sounded around her, pulsated in her head, and when it wouldn’t stop, she realized it was her, crying out her pain. Broken down, finally. Defeated. Lost in the world she couldn’t change, couldn’t escape, couldn’t destroy. The room moved, pictures crumpled under her feet.

She was nothing but an abused animal. A girl that was less than a beast. Dirty on the inside. Contaminated by all the many lovers, wanted or not. She was crying. She was dying. Reese lifted a hand, saw a watery reflection of her in the windowpane, and she wanted to punch it. She collapsed to her knees on the carpeted floor instead.

Time paused as she knelt next to her torn up and scattered world. She bowed her head, all of her heavy, and at the same time, floating with weightlessness only the deepest of unwanted emotions being ripped from oneself could elicit. Reese didn’t understand how her heart could still beat. The hole was too big and should have taken her heart with it.

Reese knew when he got back, heard his even tread as he made his way up the stairs. Her neck whipped from side to side as her eyes searched for something, even as nothing came to mind. What did she do? Did she try to go? She couldn’t think right. Panic told her to hide, but where? All her deeds were obvious in the turmoil tossed about this room. Reese had destroyed Leo’s living room.

She sat, waiting with a pounding heart, icy hands, and shaking body.

Leo opened the door and stepped into the room, not appearing surprised or angry to see the dishevelment of his property, or her sitting among it. When the silence got too loud, she looked up, instinctively flinching at what was before her. His face housed bruises and cuts. Reese stared at him, not wanting to feel the pain she did for him. He should be nothing to her. She should hit him and run from the room, press charges. She should hate him, be disgusted by his obvious stalking. Scared.

But instead she looked at him, wanting to figure him out more than anything. She didn’t see any resemblance, but what did that mean? Leo was more a stranger to Reese than she’d ever realized. And yet, he knew her. Hadn’t he told her that?

He took in the scattered papers and photographs, stance and expression calm as his gaze moved to the books on the floor and the turned over end table. Leo focused on her. “Weren’t supposed to see those.” His low voice was equal parts honey and vinegar with just a hint of repentance laced through it.

Reese wanted to laugh at his choice of words. That’s all he had to say? That she wasn’t supposed to see them? Nothing about him having them, or how he got them, or what he was doing with them. Nothing about her destruction of his property or how she got into his place, or the fact that she was in his apartment. Just that. She wasn’t supposed to see the pictures and papers.

“Why and how . . . are you . . . associated with my father?” She’d looked at her father and hadn’t even recognized him. And he’d looked at her and pretended not to.

Was her father Leo’s father too? Were they related? She wanted to throw up again. Her feelings for him became barbed wire, twisted into neat little knots, prickly and hard to break. And she still wanted him, wanted that dangerously protective element he carried like a cloak of retribution. Leo made her see the good in herself instead of bad, and Reese didn’t want that turned into something ugly. Sick, sick, she was sick. He was sick.

His eyes lightened as he inhaled, shifting his gaze away from hers.

“Are you . . . is he . . . are we brother and sister? Are we related?” She tried to swallow and couldn’t around the thickness of her throat. It was closing, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to shut her eyes and lose consciousness.

Leo moved farther into the room, closer to her, and she instinctively scrambled back to widen the distance. He stopped, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Answer me!” Reese shrieked, needing this answer. Needing it like she needed air, like she needed him.

She moaned as she dropped her face to her hands. No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. There was another explanation. But it made sense. Why he never made a move on her, why he cared about her even when she gave him no reason, why he wanted to protect her.

“No.” He answered so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard him right, and then she wanted to believe she heard him right even if she hadn’t.

Air left her lungs in a whoosh. Reese carefully stood, body jerking with tiny convulsions. The panic reared up again, intent on ruining anything she could even subconsciously think was good. It was going to take Leo away from her. The truth would send him flying away like a kite in a windstorm.

“How do you know my father? Tell me what’s going on. You need to tell me now, Leo. You can’t keep all these secrets, not about me. Not about my family. You have all these pictures you shouldn’t have . . . you have information on people you shouldn’t have access to. Tell me.”

Leo opened his mouth, appearing unable to speak. His eyes were regretful, his mouth thinned with displeasure.

“Are you a stalker? A serial killer? Are you going to kill me now? Kill everyone I’ve been with? Better get started then, it’s a long list. I guess you know that, though, right? Since you have the list. Who are you?” Reese felt her grasp on lucidity slipping away with each piercing beat of her heart.

She couldn’t fear him. Reese couldn’t place him with being a monster. It didn’t fit. He would never wear that label, not to her, no matter what. She’d seen monsters. Whatever he had done, Leo wasn’t one of them. But he also wasn’t what she’d thought he was.

You never knew. You never knew what he was, so how can he not be what you thought?
She shook her head against logical and illogical thoughts, unable to differentiate between them. Her head felt full, woozy. What was fact, what was lie, and did it even matter?

His eyebrows lowered and his eyes flashed, but he didn’t respond.

“Sawyer—you beat him up.” Her pulse raced. She knew he had, but she needed confirmation, craved it. Reese hated that she
liked
the idea of him beating Sawyer up.

Leo nodded.

“My—my mom’s husband. Did you . . .” She swallowed. “He’s missing. Do you know why? Do you know what happened to him? Were you involved in it? Did you . . . is he dead? Did you kill him?”

The pounding of her heart grew, filled her head and eardrums. She was a heartbeat and nothing else, just an overactive organ that was on the brink of losing control. As she waited for him to answer her, she realized something she’d known and hadn’t wanted to admit. He was dangerous. He could kill. How many times had she wished her mother’s husband dead? Even now, as she waited, part of her wanted him to be.

“No.”

A shuddering breath left her, and she wasn’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment—something she didn’t care to figure out.

“Who
are
you?”

Leo’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t want you to find out about this this way.”

“Did you ever want me to find out?”

“No.”

“Who hit you this last time? Brad wouldn’t be strong enough to do much harm. Ryan or Daniel? Both of them? Sawyer?”

He fingered his jaw, dropped his hand, and bent down to pick up a picture. He showed it to her. It was of Leo and Richard Ward.

“Him?” Anger stiffened her jaw. That man left her and Morgan, his absence allowed Brad to enter and decimate their childhood. And now she knew he’d been watching them the whole time. He never helped them, never saved them.

“Why would he hit you?” Reese wanted to pound her father’s face in, rip his heart out, and that scared her, because she wanted to do it for Leo, not herself. He
hit
him. She wanted to annihilate him.

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me about him,” she suggested when he remained quiet, her tone saying he couldn’t refuse.

Leo ran a hand through his light brown hair, the faint tremble of it making her throat tight. “I didn’t know until later, after it was over. Would have ended it if I had.”

He was talking about her. Brad. Maybe he was talking about all of it. “After what?”

He wouldn’t answer, jaw tightening, and she knew. He didn’t know what was going on until after her sister’s death. It was strange how it took one catastrophic, unforgettable action to put things into perspective. Truths came out then, but there were always lies to cover them back up. By those who didn’t come forth, for those that kept silent.

“No one knew, because no one wanted to know.”

She’d come to school with bruises. She was introverted. She acted out. Never made eye contact, flinched when approached. Who the fuck couldn’t be smart enough to figure out she was being abused? And Morgan was worse. She barely talked and her eyes were so fucking sad, like pools of blue pain. Reese had wanted to believe it was because Morgan knew what was happening to Reese, not because it was happening to Morgan as well.

She was just as bad as all the rest of them, thinking if she could deny something to herself, it made it true. She’d been let down and she’d let her sister down. They were all messed up, every single human being that could have made a difference and didn’t.

Leo looked at her, apologies for things he could not control clear in his slate-colored eyes. “I wasn’t there, Reese.”

“I know.”

“Wish I had been.”

She didn’t answer, waiting.

“I was told to watch you—and your sister.” He touched his forehead, his hand hiding his eyes, and she knew it was intentional. He didn’t want her to see his pain, the pain he held for someone he didn’t know. Her heartbeat picked up. Or did he?

“Did you know her?” Reese whispered through numb lips. If only they could be numb from alcohol, and not this revelation she had to know even as she knew she’d regret knowing it.

At the same time, knowing someone else had a piece of Morgan made her memory shine a little brighter. And that hurt. She wanted to run from here, forget about it all. Go back to that darkness that shielded her from feeling things.

Leo’s darkness made her feel too much.

His shoulder involuntarily jerked as he dropped his hand. “My parents died when I was nine, and I was in foster care until I was thirteen. I ran away then.”

“Why?”

He wouldn’t look at her when he answered. “Bad things happened.”

She felt her face crumple and she turned partially away, holding an arm across her midsection. “Why are you telling me this?”