The Lonely (20 page)

"I
remember every second."

She
looks down, "I feel so bad for you both. They made him go in the hole? He
was a little boy? I don’t even know what to say, Em…S-Sarah."
I laugh, "Me either. It's cool if you call me, Em. I'm still that girl in
some ways."

She
smiles. It doesn’t look real. It's broken and devastated. "All the good
ways. But I think you should be Sarah now. Let Em rest." Her green eyes
shine.

I
feel my own eyes shining, "Yup."

She
pretty much tackles me to the bed and wraps around me and pets my head.
"We can get a second opinion if you want. Like if you don’t want to see
him anymore."

I
clear my throat, "I don’t…mind…seeing him."

"Well,
if you need anything I know Mom and Dad will help. We talked about it at
Christmas and they're not comfy with him paying for our shit anymore. And that
doctor is a quack."

She
is getting snot and tears on my shirt. I laugh, "Dude, it worked. I drank sink
water and ate from a dog dish and was beaten and violated and humbled and
humiliated and everything was taken away. But all the crazy went with it. All
the fears and despair and pathetic Emalyn Spicer. I feel new. I feel brave and
fearless in so many ways. Dr. Bradley is a quack, no doubt. But she is a genius
quack." I glance over at her and blink, "I haven’t made you wash your
hands or asked you to pick up your bags or made you take your shoes off."

She
laughs a wet giggle and sniffles, "You still noticed it?"

"Yeah.
Old dog new tricks. But I have never been this free. I'm free. I'm able to feel
guilty and horrid and sad, but at the same time I feel excited and I have
lustful thoughts. I smelled a guy yesterday with cologne and I just enjoyed it.
He smelled nice. And that was it. I wasn’t scared of him. He didn’t even glance
at me."

She
nods, accepting it all, "Okay. I agree. If you smelled cologne and my
shoes are on your bed, she might be on to something. But, I still question
those methods. Harshly."

"Yup.
She's freaking nuts."

We
both laugh.

I
sigh, "Tell me about Christmas. Is Joey still hot?"

She
nudges me, "He's a player piece of shit. Never date Italian
men…dude…ever."

I
laugh. "I'll never date anyway." I stop laughing and turn and face
her, "That’s not true. I want to date. I don’t want to let any of that
define me anymore. That was old me talking out of habit."

A
slow and steady smile creeps across her lips. She nods, "You are
better."

I
smile back, "I'm on my way." And I've made my peace with some things.
Things I never want to lose.

Her
eyes sparkle, "You should call Sebastian. He messaged me when your…er…Eli
messaged him. He was so mad. He's good for you. He's so normal and nice and
vanilla."

I
bite my lip and wonder if I can. I want to. That is the difference in me. I
want to try to move past it. Not give up and die in the hole I'm not really
trapped in. If I'm totally honest I want to forget again. But that’s not
likely.

My
phone vibrates.

'Stuart
will be there in fifteen.'

I
glance at it and feel the excitement building inside of me. I want to see him
too and it's a horrid feeling. I didn’t see how messed up he was at first, but
I see it now. And some sick twisted part of me wants him still. He's stringing
me along and what's worse is I see it. He wants to play victims together and
get some kind of gratification for his own injuries and sadness. He talked
about me getting better, but I'm concerned he hasn’t been able to get better,
in fourteen years. It makes me sad. I want him to be whole too. Not just save
me. Save himself.

I
get up and pull my shirt off. "I have to go meet him."

"Eli?
Well, I'm coming." She is defiant. I knew she would be. If it were her, I
would be too. I look back, "Okay."

"Why
are you changing?" She sits up.

Blush
creeps across my cheeks, "Oh, uhm I did therapy in that shirt. I get
sweaty."

Her
jaw drops, "Shut the front door. You like him? That’s why you don’t mind
seeing him. Hot, rich, nasty. Oh my god." She is disgusted.

Trying
to look horrified or guilty of her accusation, I sneer, "No. I just don’t
want to be sweaty."

She
crosses her arms and tilts her head, "Is this that Stockholm syndrome
where he holds you captive and beats you and you feel like you deserve it, so
you love him?"

I
shake my head. She doesn’t move. I sigh, and lower my gaze, "Maybe. I do
like him. But he doesn’t see me beyond the science experiment of our therapy. I
have a horrid feeling it's just leftover from before. Like he has to keep
saving me to save himself." Her face is growing in horror and fear.

"You
want that?"

I
shake my head, "I just want him to see me. To stop seeing the little girl.
And I want some of the damned control back. He has me spinning. He has all the
control."

She
stands up and grins, "Well, this is my chance to have a shot at him, for a
change. Let me make you up and we can torture him back a little."

I
back up, slightly shocked. "Whoa. Easy. I don’t want to be part of some
game play. I just like him…like a friend…who I maybe want to kiss."

She
rolls her eyes, "He kissed you. He likes you back. You're both just
damaged and screwed-up and shit. So you all don’t know how to be a boy and
girl."

I
gasp.

She
closes her mouth and blushes, "You know what I mean."

My
hands are covering my mouth. I start to giggle. She looks sickened, "I'm
sorry."

"No.
It's true. We met at the screwed up kidnap victims' concentration camp. But in
truth, I always saw him as my hero. When I was a kid, when I found out I had a
benefactor, and even when he kidnapped me. I have had disturbing thoughts about
him. I can't even kid myself about them. Even if I wanted to."

She
laughs, "This is so weird. Girl, I have read romance novels like this my
entire life. You gotta trust me on this shit. We gotta make you hot. Let me
mess with him a little bit? Then you can have the control again."

I
nod. I want him to see me whole. Maybe it will inspire him to be whole too.

She
grabs a red slutty dress from the closet.

I
arch an eyebrow, "Let's try to stay in the realm of possible and not
totally obvious."

She
looks at me. "You know you can't like, have a relationship with him
right?" She sounds doubtful.

I
laugh, nervously. "Yeah. Of course. We're like survivors of the same shit.
I just like him." I lower my voice, "Not like how I like
Sebastian." It's true. I like him so much more than Sebastian. Sebastian
is the right man for the normal girl I want to be.

"What
if he abducts you again?" She asks into my back when I turn and grab the
brush off the desk. I stop and think. The idea is almost intriguing. Being
abducted by him again would be interesting.

I
shake my head, "What can he do he hasn’t already done? What can anyone do
to me that hasn’t already be done?" I turn and face her, "I don’t
have any walls left Shell. I'm like a single tree standing in a field for
everyone to see. There is nowhere for me to hide."

She
raises an eyebrow and passes me a pale-pink, cotton-off-the-shoulder dress,
"Sometimes having a couple things you keep to yourself isn’t such a bad
thing, Em."

I
take the dress and smile. She is never going to stop calling me Em. I don’t
mind it though. It's like she isn’t completely dead and gone. Like a small
spark of her lives on in me. But not the bad stuff.

I
pull on the dress.

"You
have to take the bra off dude. Off the shoulder dresses look slutty with bras
sticking out. She passes me a white thing.

"Bandeau."

I
pull my bra off and the bandeau on. I slink into the dress and look at myself
in the mirror. I run my hands through my blonde hair and wriggle my lips back
and forth. I make duck lips and nod, "Yup." I slip on my Uggs and
turn to face her. She lightly dabs makeup on. "Okay I am a believer. Dude,
this is my makeup. My germs."

I
shrug, "Okay."

"It
isn’t bugging you that I've touched it to my face?"

I
open one eyes and frown, "Trying to make me stress?"

She
laughs, "Just testing." She spins me back to the mirror, "You
look pretty."

I
do.

I
look innocent but still sexy. It's a good look for me. I shrug on my huge white
down jacket and pocket my cell phone.

She
slips on her coat and opens the door. I look back at the apartment and smirk.
It's a swamp.

She
grimaces, "I might miss you cleaning all the time."

I
laugh and we walk down the stairs. I glance at my phone. We are crazy late. I
smile. I need to get my defiant little digs in.

Stuart
and the car are sitting in the snow across the street. The cold wind attacks my
skirt and legs. I moan, "I hate Boston. I hate winter."

She
links her arms into mine, which I barely feel with the down jackets. Stuart's
got the door open when we get there. He looks desperately in Shell's direction.
She ignores him completely and climbs in. His jaw tightens. He looks at me
apologetically. I put a hand on his coat sleeve and shake my head, "We
cool? Me and you? No more lies and weirdness?" He nods.

His
eyes flash a concerned look, "You forgive me?" I nod as he closes the
door.

I
nudge her, "You okay?" She nods and looks pissed.

I
know that if the hostage heels had been on the other foot I would never forgive
him. Never. I can only hope for the sake of the car rides and the tension
levels, she lets him beg for forgiveness. He is so damned sexy and she is such
a sexual person I am betting they’ll be back together in a day or two.

"Give
him a chance to explain at least." I whisper just as he gets in.

She
scowls, "Screw that."

He
puts the car in drive, inching along in the snow. It might take longer than a
day or two.

He
looks at us in the rearview, "I think I'll be bringing the SUV from now
on. I just didn’t want to change it up before I told you."

I
smirk, "It's cool. Probably better in the snow." He's still treating
me with kid gloves.

His
eyes dart at Shell in the mirror, "Welcome home."

She
gives him the cold shoulder. True Italian woman. And she's only half.

He
drives us to a building in the heart of downtown. We could have walked. He
pulls up and hops out. I feel silly having him open the door. I look at him,
"After the cell this feels strange."

He
nods, "I know. I need this job though, Sarah."

"I
won't say anything."

He
blushes, "Thanks." His eyes dart to Shell.

I
wink at him and look back at her, "Just wait here till I see what he
wants."

She
scoffs and scoots along the seat towards me, "Yeah right."

I
put a hand out, "Dude. I want to be strong on my own. I swear, Stuart
isn’t going to let anything happen to me."

She
looks homicidal for a second and then nods climbing back in, "I expect a
text every minute."

"Done."
I turn and run for the building. I know I won't be texting her. She'll be busy.
He's got some groveling to do.

I
run to where a man opens the door under the awning to the fancy building.

"Good
evening."

I
duck my head. The entrance is stunning. I stop and stare. It's incredible. The
man at the front desk looks like a bellhop. I frown at him when he asks,
"May I help you?" I look confusedly at the room and walk to him. My
bare legs are freezing. It looks like a hotel, but I don’t think it is.

I
blow on my hands and speak softly, "Hi. I'm a guest of Eli Adams."

He
lifts the phone and speaks softly. "Go on up. Tenth floor."

"Which
room?"

He
smiles at me like I've told him a lame joke, "The entire floor." He
rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever he was doing. I frown and sigh. I hate
the building already. I cross the shiny floor and press the elevator button.

The
doors open but I'm not prepared for him to be there. I flinch seeing him.

He
smiles. It’s the same fake smile he gave me at the doctor's office.
"Sarah."

My
air is sucked out of my lungs. I feel like I'm drowning for a second. I calm
myself and smile back. "Hi." He steps back, "Come in."

I
hesitate but force myself inside. This is the test. It's the practice run for
any other guy. For Sebastian. I remind myself I wanted to see Eli.

"How
are you?" He asks.

I
frown and look at the stainless steel wall. "Since I saw you a few hours
ago?"