Memory: Book Two (Scars 2) (10 page)

“You’re
not fifteen, you’re nineteen,” he said quietly like he was the calm in the
storm of everything that was surging through me.

His
words stopped me, but for just a second as I mentally repeated them through my
head. “No. I’m a child, and you are every piece of shit who’s ever taken me to
his bed.” This last word was a sob, a pathetic wail that resonated within me. I
took a hand that was already bunched into a fist and lunged it toward his face.
I struck that perfectly chiseled cheekbone and pain radiated through my
knuckles, but it didn’t stop me. I drew my fist back again and aimed for his
face as I was blinded by tears. I hit something, and there was more pain, then
I hit him again and again as I screamed.

“Oh
my god!” A glass crashed and cold liquid reached my feet. “What should I do?
Aaron?”

Azalea’s
voice snapped me out of my violence. Finally, I could see again. Aaron’s face
was bloody — his lips, his nose, his cheek. I looked down at my hand, blood
stained my knuckles, obscene against my frail hand. I screwed up my face in
horror, lifting my hands up to hold my head that felt like it was about to burst
with the amount of blood thumping away in my brain.

“I—”
My voice started to croak out, but I didn’t know what to say so I just stopped.
I stepped back away from where Aaron was just sitting, staring at me. Something
sharp pierced my foot but I kept going, not even acknowledging the pain. “I
have to go,” I whispered, spinning on the broken glass and lurching toward the
doors in a stumbling and clumsy bid for escape. I made it out of the changing
area, through the store with all its color displayed vividly on racks, while my
only color was blood. The younger saleswoman gasped and stepped out of my way
as I ran past her, pushing the glass doors open and making it out onto the
street.

Someone
gave a slight scream at the sight of me, and only then did I register that not
only was I bloodied, but I was only dressed in underwear. I stopped short in
the middle of the street, not knowing where to go.

A
heavy leather jacket was thrown over my shoulders and Aaron’s arms wrapped
around me as he bundled me toward his car. Limp as a rag doll, I made no
struggle as he placed me in the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt across
me as I huddled there.

“It’ll
be okay, Rachel,” he muttered as he reversed out of the parking space at speed,
someone honked their horn at him but he ignored it. I dared to look at him
through my still teary eyes. He looked scary with the blood and I wrapped my
arms around myself as I inched closer to the door. I wanted to put space
between me and him and not have to face what I was capable of. The drive seemed
to take forever, frustratingly held up as we waited for the gates to open and
then for the garage door. He drove in and immediately closed it behind us,
shutting out the sunlight and leaving us in only the dim light of the single
bulb in the garage. He turned off the engine and sat there with his hands
gripping the leather of the steering wheel as if thinking. Then he exited the
car and rounded it, opening my door and I flinched as he did so. Before I could
go anywhere, he leaned down and scooped me up effortlessly in his arms to carry
me inside. That weird feeling of comfort came over me again as I was pressed
against his hard chest and cradled in his arms. This contrasted with the rage
that had made me attack him a short while before. My own hands gently touched
his t-shirt, curving in to the material like I wanted to claw at him, although
if that was to hurt him more or be closer, I wasn’t sure.

He
took us into the downstairs bathroom, planting me down onto the cold vanity
before leaving and returning a moment later with a First Aid kit. He saw to my
hand first, bending it to make sure that it wasn’t broken. Then, he cleaned
away the blood and bandaged my knuckles. Next, he pulled up a stool to sit in
front of where my feet dangled. He gently took one and placed it on his lap
before using tweezers to search and extract the glass that I had trodden on. I
sat there, as docile as a doll while he concentrated on his task.

“Do
you hate me for what I did to your face?” I asked finally.

He
didn’t look up as he continued inspecting my foot. “I’m too pretty anyway, it
makes it hard for people to take me seriously.”

I
stared at him open mouthed, not sure if he were joking or not. When he looked
up at me, he had a smirk on his face that told me it were the former. I barked
out a laugh, his humor surprising.

“Stay
still,” he admonished. “I still need to get the glass out.”

“You
must think I’m a freak.”

His
eyes were on my foot again, peering at it with intensity.

“I
don’t think that you’re a freak, Rachel.”

“The
things I said were—”

“True.”
He extracted a long, thin piece of glass, holding it carefully trapped within
the prongs of the tweezers as he inspected it. The light glinted against it.
“They were true. There’s nothing more to say.” He let the glass drop into the
basin before returning to examine my foot for any more intrusions. Satisfied
that there were no more shards, he took an antiseptic wipe from the First Aid
kit and rubbed it against the sole of my foot and then bandaged it like an
expert. “All done.”

He
stood, taking me by surprise when he held my jaw in a loose grip and kissed me.
I imagined his blood smearing on me, and it didn’t gross me out. When his lips
had slowly pulled away from mine, I looked him in the eye. “Am I normal? Am I a
normal person? Am I just being weird because of my head or…”

He
held my gaze, and then looked away for an instant before meeting my eyes again.
“I used to think that it was her that broke you; that it was the things she did
that fucked you up. But you’re…fun. You like to laugh. You’re soft and sweet.
It wasn’t her, it wasn’t him, it was me that broke you and turned you into what
you are.”

I
looked at him with so many questions running through my head. The ever
persistent fog in my screwed up brain stayed heavy and dense, providing no
answers. “What does that even mean?”

“It
means…” He paused, then let his face break into a smile. “I’m tired and hungry.
Let’s just get some food and relax. Watch a movie or something.”

“Okay.”
He helped me down before washing his own face. His eye was beginning to swell
and I cringed at the fact that I had actually done that.

“I’ll
get some ice for your eye, and I should really get dressed.” I winced at the
memory of running out onto the street clad only in underwear.

“Don’t.”
He examined himself in the mirror. “Don’t get dressed I mean. I like seeing you
half naked.”

I
paused halfway through the door. “Are you screwing that Azalea woman?”

He
didn’t bother to turn toward me. “Would it matter if I was?”

I
wasn’t sure how to answer that, so continued on my way to get an ice pack. The
weirdness that was in me before had faded to a numb near apathy. I was wrapping
frozen peas in a towel when he came up behind me, his hands lightly resting on
my hips as I felt his warm breath on my neck.

“I’m
not screwing her.”

I
turned to face him, offering the ice. “Here. It’s starting to look nasty.”

He
pressed it against his eye. “You pack a mean punch when you want to.”

A
thought occurred to me. “You said that you’d teach me how to protect myself.”

“I
don’t know if that’s in my best interest.”

I
gave a small smile. “But it’s in mine. Besides, you could have easily stopped
me, why didn’t you? You just sat there and took it.”

It
was his turn not to answer me as he grabbed his phone. “I’ll get us something
to eat. What do you feel like?”

We
ate Thai food as we cuddled together on the couch and watched some German art
house movie that I couldn’t quite follow. I sipped on a red wine that I was
supposed to like, but at first I thought it tasted like vinegar. The more I
drank, however, the better it tasted and a light feeling came over me and it
was almost as if I could forget about the day. I fell asleep there against him,
all resentment seeping away with wine and sleep.

He
taught me in the gym. I turned my back to the creepy mural with its disguised
faces. It was like those eyes saw right through me and they made me shiver.
They appeared to have no such effect on Aaron however. He wore only shorts and
his skin was already shiny with sweat from his workout. I felt weak in
comparison, my muscle pathetic compared to his.

“Attack
me,” he instructed.  

“Sure.”
I swung wildly, putting my whole body behind me as I aimed for his face. It
took a mere second for my arm to be grabbed and twisted behind my back. That’s
how it went on, time and time again until I was sweating and exhausted as I
tried to follow his instructions. I wasn’t sure if I were improving at all, but
I was enjoying being close to him and pressed up against his hard body half the
time.

“I
need a break.” I grabbed my bottle of water and gulped it down while he watched
me, amused.

“We’ve
barely gotten started.”

“You’re
only saying that because you’re winning,” I muttered, then I directed my
attention to the wall that was covered in old weapons and stepped closer to
inspect them. “You really like old swords and stuff, huh?”

The
sword I observed was damaged with large chips in the blade and the pommel
looked like it could disintegrate at any moment.

“That’s
a Viking sword. It’s worth a lot, damaged or not.”

“How
do you find this kind of stuff?”

“Every
so often, private collections come up for auction. I have a guy who keeps an
eye on them and bids on pieces that interest me.” He stood behind me, his hands
resting gently on my shoulders.

“It
all looks so fragile. Shouldn’t it be in a museum or something?” I leaned back
into his touch.

“Probably,
but I don’t like to share my things.”

I
gave a nod. “Fair enough. How did you get interested in this kind of stuff
anyway?”

He
cleared his throat. “I had an Uncle who used to bring me comic books about
Vikings and crusading knights. I may not have liked reading but I liked the
pictures.”

“Aaron?”
I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my head
against his chest. “What do you do? You’re so mysterious. You obviously have a
lot of money.”

I
felt him breathing beneath me. “I do work for Antony’s family from time to
time. Debt collection, security, that kind of thing. I freelance as well.”

“Who
for?”

“Whoever
pays the most.”

It
was an incomplete answer, but I didn’t really care. This guy didn’t do things
above board, just like my Mom and me. He was no mark, that was for sure, and I
was glad that he wasn’t.

“Is
that why someone attacked me? Because of what you do? Should I be scared?” I
didn’t feel scared though, and that was perhaps due to being around him. He was
so confident and self-assured. If there was a weakness in him, I couldn’t find
it.

He
responded by kissing me and that suited me just fine. Our tongues tangled
together urgently as he stripped my clothes from me. Then he dropped to his
knees and began to kiss my stomach. Slowly, his mouth searched down me in a
wave of licking and kissing that had me throwing my head back as I panted. It
took him an agonizingly long time to reach between my legs, and when he arrived
it took a mere minute to cum. His fingers dug into my flesh while his mouth
worked magic, and I wanted them to leave bruises, to feel claimed.

 We
had sex on the floor and ended up curled up together. I was pressed up against
his hard back while arms held me tight. I felt safe, safer than I could ever
remember just like that.

His
lips were soft on the back of my neck, small kisses searching up from the base
of my neck to my hairline that had a smile curving on my lips. But then that
pressure right there made me think of something else, almost as if the fog had
lifted.

“
Don’t.
”
My voice rang out like a sharp shard cutting through the moment.  The
sweetness, lust and intoxication that had just occurred fell away like a knife
had just cut through the tenuous strings holding them in place. The heavy
curtain that had fallen over my brain fell with them, exposing memory like an
evil white light that was too bright and hurt every inch of me. It speared
through mind and my heart, and I felt a physical pain that made me want to
vomit. I tried desperately to breathe and my intake of breath sounded as a low
rasp as I dragged in air that was too thick and poisoned now.

“You
made me wear a dog collar.”

The
mouth on me paused.

“Yes.”

Those
arms slowly released me and I inched away from him so I could sit and face him.
He raised himself up, his face emotionless.

“You
hurt me over and over, and you let him…” I clutched my head and groaned, even
though it didn’t hurt. If anything, my mind felt free for the first time in
forever.

“Rachel.”
His voice was firm. “You can deal with this later, but right now I need to know
about the man who took you.”

“He
put a noose around my neck and I thought he was going to hang me. I was so
scared.” I clawed my nails into my head. “No. That was you. I only remember
you
.”
I started to cry, unattractive gulping sobs. “You did this to my head.”

“I
didn’t.”

“You
did. You did it just to fuck with me again because it’s fun for you.” My voice
was a raw wail as I clawed even harder at my scalp and rocked back and forth.

“You
think that I’d shoot up my own house?” he asked viciously.

All
I could do was scream and sob in response. He was speaking to me but I couldn’t
make out what he was saying. I was vaguely aware of him leaving the room, but
all I continued to do was to make noise and rock. At some stage, I heard a female
voice. It was the sour nurse and she took my arm.

“This’ll
calm you down, honey.” A needle went into my arm, my blue veins stood out clear
under my sickening white skin.

“Are
you killing me?” I asked in a hoarse voice. I didn’t know if she was or not
because everything seemed to fade away and I began to float.

It
was dark when I woke up. The moon was bright and full outside the bedroom
windows, casting an eerie glow into the room. I pulled the sheet up to my body
with tense hands as lay there curled up, my mind racing. I had been so
pathetic, so scared all the time, and of what? I had been hurt so many times
and survived every single time. Eventually, I prevailed, and that was what
would happen here. No longer would I be a victim. No longer would I be a pawn.
Just surviving was no longer an option. I had to be the winner.

I
sat up, groping for the switch for the lamp beside me.

Aaron
sat on the couch staring straight at me. He held a glass of amber liquor in his
hand, resting it against his thigh. He didn’t move his eyes from me as he
lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. With automatic motions, he grabbed
the bottle beside him and filled the glass again, swishing it a little, before
getting to his feet and making his way toward me.

He
was drunk. He lacked his usual animal-like grace as he walked slowly toward me
and his eyes were glazed, the predatory intensity gone. He sat down and I moved
my legs out of the way to avoid him trapping them.

“You
slept forever,” he commented before taking a sip of his drink. “Got those
fucked up memories of yours back yet?”

I
lifted my chin. “I remember what you are. That’s all I need to know.” My tone
was low and cold.

He
rolled his eyes. “I meant, do you remember anything useful?”

There
was still that fog on the edge of my mind that tormented me, because I knew
that knowledge was right there, waiting to be unlocked.

“I
don’t know who hurt me, other than you.”

“The
doctor said it should all come back eventually. It’ll just take time.” He
didn’t sound happy as he said that, and I twisted my lips into a cruel smile.

“Are
you pissed that I remembered what a psychotic freak you are? You sucked me in
good, didn’t you? Playing the nice guy, seducing—”

He
laughed, it was hard and long, and his liquor sloshed out of the glass as his
body shook with the noise. “That’s just like you to rewrite history in a way
that suits you and makes you look lily white and the rest of the world is shit.
I didn’t get my head cracked open like a fucking egg shell so I’m pretty sure
that I remember correctly. You’re the one that tried to seduce me, manipulate
me.
Little miss screw-me-in-the-changing room,” he mocked. He reached out and
wrapped his hand around my neck before I could react. I swallowed but didn’t
cower or try to struggle, instead meeting his gaze head on with my narrowed
eyes. “Although,” he continued, “I must admit, I liked it when you were being
nice. It was refreshing not to have you as such a cold bitch all the time.”

“That’s
what you turned me into,” I spat. “You admitted it.”

“Nah.”
He released his hold on my neck, more interested in drinking, the fumes coming
off of him were overpowering and made me want to wretch. “I said that I fucking
broke you. The bitch inside you must have always been there. I probably just
let her free.”

I
took a deep breath to stop myself from seething and snatched the glass from
him. It spilt on the white bedcover leaving a gross brown stain. I smiled and laughed
as I took a drink, watching his eyes go down to the stain in dismay that his
spotless bedroom had been marked. The liquor made me cough and he snatched it
back, draining it before shoving the glass down on the bedside table so it hit
with a bang. He wiped his mouth clumsily before turning back to face me.

“It
was even better fucking you like that. You were all warm and moany.
Oh,
Aaron. Fuck me, fuck me
,” he mimicked.

“What
about you? You were fucking drooling over me. You couldn’t get enough. I bet you
loved it. You got to screw the girl you fucking love while she didn’t
absolutely hate you!”

We
both froze at my words, then he barked out a laugh. “I don’t love you, Rachel,”
he sneered. “You’re an obsession. That’s it.”

“Obsession?
Love? What’s the difference? How would someone like you have any inkling of
what love is anyway?”

He
leaned in close. “You think that you’re any better than me? Honey, you are
dysfunction with a capital D. You couldn’t be honest with anyone if you wanted
to. All you know are lies and how to put walls up. You know one of the first
times that I saw a picture of you? It was in that hokey small town newspaper
after those two friends of yours died. They printed a photo of the three of you
standing together. Your friends were smiling at the camera, and so were you,
but your smile wasn’t real. It didn’t match your eyes and you were standing a
little off to the side like you shouldn’t have been there, like you didn’t
belong there. I could spot your fakeness from a mile off.”

The
mention of Mara and Torrance was like a punch, angering me even more. But I
took a deep breath. I couldn’t let him get to me. I needed to harness my anger
and remain in control. “Just for the record,” I said calmly. “I’m not broken.
I’m stronger than ever before. I won’t lie and say that you didn’t have an
impact on me, because we both know you did. In fact, I’ll give you credit for
helping to shape me into what I am, but I’m done being that pathetic little
girl that you seem to think that I am. In fact I’d love nothing more to show
you what I’m capable of.”

He
stared at me for a moment, then burst out in laughter. “Is that supposed to be
a threat, Rachel?”

I
swallowed and raised myself up. “Not at all, after all you already have one
enemy who’s out for your blood.”

His
smile faded slightly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

It
was my turn to laugh. “You know, the guy who shot up your house.”

“So
you do remember.”

“No,
not really. All I remember is that this was about you, not me. I was just
collateral damage and he thought that by hurting me he’d hurt you. I told him
it wouldn’t though…” I wasn’t even really sure how I knew this, it was like the
fog had cleared just ever so slightly.

“C’mon,
Rachel.
Think!
” He reached over and grabbed my upper arms tightly, his
fingers sinking painfully into my flesh.

It
took all my might not to wince as I met his eyes. “Get your fucking hands off
of me,” I said. His eyes blazed with drunken fury and while part of me cowered,
part of me wanted to see what he’d do next. I did not let my gaze waver.

After
a pause, he released me, bringing his hands back to his own body in a slow,
controlled movement while I suppressed the urge to smile.

“It
is in your best interest to share every little bit of information with me, you
understand that, Rachel?” he asked in a low voice that verged on menacing.

“My
name’s
Paige
.”

“Your
name is Rachel. You are
my
Rachel.”