Fix Up (21 page)

Fuck, no. I can’t even think about that shit.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and step on my cigarette, my black biker boot crushing it under my weight as my heart bleeds a little more.

Chapter Twelve

SKYE

I wave goodbye to my parents and Kate and drive away. It's almost like they're seeing their only child and best friend go to war. In a way, it is a war. Facing Sean is a war against him, but also against myself and all the defense mechanisms I have put together over the years.

The GPS gives me directions towards the prison, the male voice breaking the silence in the car as I think about how long this day is going to be. After visiting Sean, I have my psychology class and then my appointment with Dr. Marshall. The most draining days are always the longest ones.

After exactly twenty-three minutes, I park the car in front of the big building. The main door is painted in dark paint and is made with heavy metal, the kind that would never break even from the assault of some kind of explosives—not that I know much about these things. The walls aren't white as they probably should be, but a washed out grey, accentuating the sordid feeling I have while looking at the building, securely tucked in Kate's car with the AC refreshing me. I'm sweating profusely.

Thousands of prisoners are in there. Some are purging a sentence after they killed someone or raped or stole. There are gang members, hard core thieves... In there, there are all the bad influences Sean doesn't need. It's surreal to think that last year Sean and I were together, making plans for college while I hid the truth of what our relationship really was. It’s surreal to think we were named Best Couple of our prom in our yearbook.

I turn off my phone, grab my handbag and walk slowly toward the building, glancing at the people doing the same and making sure to lock Kate’s car over my shoulder. Most of the people coming to visit are women of all ages. Some are with their kids, others with their sisters, but everybody harbors the same expression. A mix of dread and impatience. I know all men in there are not monsters, most of them aren't, and it’s fortunate. I have a hard time thinking that even the monsters have people caring about them. Sean has at least one person who cares about him; his mother is a saint for that. Or maybe it's just because she's a mom and can’t turn her back on her only child.

I let a middle aged woman pat me from my ankles to my shoulders and finishing by my arms. My body is tense, but I don't know if it's because of her touch or because of the place. I tug on my simple black tee-shirt, one I bought with Kate. When I dressed this morning, I didn't want to wear what Sean saw me wear day after day, hiding myself, my body under layers of large clothes. I want him to see me feeling better, even if most of it is a façade. I need to prove a point, show him that I'm stronger and that it's not easy to break me.

"You can go, Miss Walker," the woman tells me in an even tone, like she's bored with these procedures. She probably is after all; it's her daily job.

I nod and follow a pregnant woman in to a narrow corridor leading to a room that gives me the chills. The floor is made of concrete, just like the walls, and it looks like it's not finished. The room is separated by a wall of glass. On either side of the glass are black chairs, the same kind you see in offices, and there are phones on each side, the only way to communicate with the person on the other side of the glass. It's exactly like in movies and TV shows, and I don't know what to do with myself. It’s overwhelming to say the least. Maybe too overwhelming now that my heart is beating so fast like it’s trying to make a run for it. I glance at all the available chairs and finally see Sean there. He's sitting three chairs from me, his baby blue eyes cold and hard on me as a muscle is jumping in his jaw, the sign that told me when he was about to beat me. But he can’t here.

His hair is not as shiny as it used to be, and his face is pale, sharper. I don't know, maybe it's just seeing him wearing a uniform like the other prisoners that is playing with my mind.

I walk to him, holding his eyes that are taking me in, stopping at my tee-shirt that is slightly accentuating my curves. With a shaky hand I pull out the chair and sit down. I feel a little numb right now, detached, but I'm not sure what I’m going to be once he opens his mouth, because I know it won't be pleasant for me. I brace myself and grab the phone, taking a deep breath I keep an eye on the guards positioned every few feet to provide the security I welcome. I push away all thoughts of that day, that day he pushed things even farther than I would have ever thought possible. I can’t let the memory overwhelm me, not in front of him. He doesn’t deserve to see me crumble.

He takes the phone on his side and narrows his eyes on my face. It's probably my mind playing tricks because I'm freaking out, but it's almost like he's disappointed not to see any trace of what he did to me. And then he smirks, and I gasp in the speaker, accentuating his devilish smirk, the same one I remember seeing that day. I look away at the pregnant woman who is crying while talking to a younger man who looks like her. A brother?

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd come."

I stare at him and feel very little. The urge to apologize rises, but I refrain, gritting my teeth at my own weakness. I’m stunned to be so ... submissive in front of him, even after what he did. It's printed inside of me with indelible ink.

"I saw your mother the other day.’’ I keep my eyes on him, begging to see a crack in his cold mask. And there it is.

He softens for a brief moment before he straightens and closes his fists tightly, his eyes boring a hole in my face. If looks could kill ...

I brush away some of my hair and take a deep breath. Even now I’m still trying to look for something, anything that would hint at some emotions, something that would prove to me that I haven’t been all wrong for so long. But I need to face the facts, he can’t deal with anything other than anger. Pain, regrets, fear? He keeps on pushing these away, or maybe it’s even worse and he doesn’t feel them anymore. I don’t know, but somehow it tugs at my heart. I hate myself a little bit for this.

"And? That's why you came here? Don't you want an apology?" He leans closer to the glass, his breath fogging the window. "Don't you want to yell at me?"

I shake my head and glance at the ceiling, the lamps blinding me before I close my eyes. Yes, I did want to tell him everything I have in my heart, but to what end? He's not repentant, he won't care and ... I don't see the point now that I’m here face to face with him. Maybe it'd feel better at first, but I know it's not going to erase everything. And it won't change him. He's the only one that can change, just like I’m trying to put my life back on track even if it is an uneven track right now. I don’t know what I truly want out of this visit with him. I tense some more, brace myself to lash out, but then I meet his calculating blue eyes. I feel nothing. No pain, no fear, not even anger. There’s a whole lot of nothing, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad.

"We both know it'd be useless, so I'm not going to waste my time. You don’t regret it, you told me you wouldn’t apologize and you can’t undo what you did to me.” I blow out some air trying to ease the weight over my chest, constricting my lungs uneasily.

He cocks his head to one side, taken aback by my words probably. "So what do you want? Or are you just here to rub it in my face that I’m locked up here while you’re out there fucking your tattooed asshole?” He shakes his head, eyes still cold on my face, waiting to see me crumble, probably hoping that I will. But the harsh rasp of his voice doesn’t make me want to cower anymore.

I narrow my eyes on him, ready to lash out when I hear him talk about Duke that way, but instead I take a deep breath, remembering what I truly need. “Closure. I just want closure.” I shrug feeling stupid when he chuckles. Though, I shouldn't feel that way where he's concerned. He's the one in prison, and I'm the one free. I'm entitled to feel ... I don't know, better than him? That's not exactly how I feel, but it's close enough. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I have my whole life in front of me while he’s going to be in prison for years, fucking up his whole life plans. "After this, I will never see you again; I will never talk to you. If we’re in the same room during the trial, I will not look at you. It’s all over.”

He leans closer to the glass, his eyebrows drawn over his hard eyes. “But you'll think about me, Skye. Always. There will always be something that will make you think about me.” There’s a chilling amusement in his voice that makes me feel cold, bringing back to my mind that moment when he belittled me, that moment when he bruised me and violated my body with his fingers …

My eyes travel to his hand holding the phone to his ear, his fingers, the same fingers that touched me without my consent. My heart starts beating harder in my chest, pumping more and more blood in my veins. But I will not let a panic attack hits me in front of him. Not now, never again. I bring my eyes back to his face.

“Yes, Sean, I will think of you sometimes, but not all the time. I already think less and less about you, and one day, you’ll be just a part of my past, a part I will not revisit.”

He shakes his head, his eyes hard on my face, taking in every detail and making me self-conscious. But I don't try to hide myself with my hair this time. He doesn’t deserve my submission, and I won’t act like I used to. I deserve better than this.

"The funniest thing is that I never loved you, Skye. You were just that
thing
I wanted. How does that make you feel, huh?”

I keep myself from yelling or crying. That'd be too easy and exactly what he wants. Even now that he's in prison, he's trying to have some kind of power over me. So maybe he never loved me, maybe I was deluded to ever think he loved me, but I did love him once upon a time. I loved him a little too much considering the bad things he brought in to my life. It's painful though, to hear him say this, to belittle what we had at the beginning. What I
thought
we had would be more accurate.

"And now you have nothing at all. What does that feel like?" I bite back, my voice carrying an edge he’s never heard there before, and he doesn't like it at all. His cheeks are getting redder as his eyes are getting icy cold.

"I will always have a piece of you," he whispers darkly in the receiver, his voice making me want to do just one thing, run away. “I had you first and you gave me your everything, Skye. I’ll always be with you.
Always
.’’

“That’s true.” I watch as his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. He probably didn’t expect me to agree on anything, but why shouldn’t I? He’s right, he’ll always have a piece of me, maybe several pieces of me even. “Just like I’ll always have a piece of you, Sean.” I narrow my eyes on him, my hand gripping the phone tight. “I will never understand you or why you did this to me. I’m pretty sure now that you can’t even explain it to me, but I’m the only one who ever saw how your father broke you. You can play the big badass who ruined a girl if that sick feeling makes you feel better, but I know what you are. You’re nothing but a frightened boy unhealthily trying to be a man like your father who got off on abusing you.’’

He shakes his head and points at me, his face hardening. “Don’t talk about him. I swear, Skye.”

Somehow, as messed up as it sounds, I feel good knowing that I’ve got something on him, that I know where to strike if I want to hurt him, just like he used to know how to hurt me. But that’s useless. That’s not like me. That’s him, and I will not go down to this lowly level. “I don’t even know if he’s the reason why you turned out this way, or if you are just one of the most disgusting human beings there is. But I can see that you can’t even give me a reason for what you did to me. Why is that? Are you too much of a coward to face your own darkness, question yourself?’’

“Shut up! Just because you’re on the other side of that fucking glass doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.’’

“And what are you going to do to me, Sean?’’ I wave around us at the building, the glass separating us, the guards behind him and the ones over my shoulder. “You’re in prison, and you’re going to stay there for a long while. You’re not showing any hint of remorse. You can’t even face the truth.” I blink a few times when I feel some tears threatening to fall. I will not give him that satisfaction. Not again.

“Blame me all you want, Skye, but you never backed out of it. You stayed. What does that say about you too, huh?”

“That you truly broke me.” I keep my eyes locked on his, trying to see any hint of the guy I once fell in love with. It was a love beyond reason just because I wanted to see the good in him, just because I was aware of what his father was doing to him and how hurt he was. Somehow, for a while I believed that I could be his remedy. And along the way I lost pieces of myself. “I should have left you, but I was scared. And I loved you … for a while at least. Don’t think I don’t blame myself too.”

“Then why are you here? You don’t want to gloat, don’t expect an apology … so what?”

“Because I needed to see you one last time. I thought that I’d understand this mess a little bit more, that maybe you’d say something significant, but it’s the same bullshit all over again.”