Twisted (25 page)

“So I had no choice, I went to see him.”

“To River John? When?” I'm sure Aidan hasn't gone home since I've been living with him. “When did you go?”

“He was going to tell you everything, make you hate me.”

“What's everything? What was he going to tell me?”

“He wouldn't listen.”

Uh-oh. “Aidan? What did you do?”

“He hadn't changed. Same ol' bastard.”

I don't ask any more questions. I'm afraid of what he'll say next. Something hot and liquid travels from my stomach into my mouth. I wince as I swallow and force it back down.
This is insane!
He really thinks we belong together … that we're going to have a life together … that I want it too. How can he possibly believe that? What's he willing to do to get it?

Is it me? Did I say something? Do something? I think back to that day in the park. I don't remember what I said, but even if I did say that … I didn't mean it the way he thinks. Could it have been something else?

No. It's not me. It's all him. He's twisted everything up.

I wipe my face with both hands, tighten my ponytail, and take a deep breath.

I've got to get out of here.

Come on, Lyssa, you're smarter than this.

No more fighting. Tell him everything he wants to hear. Sell it. Whatever it takes to make him open that door.

“Hey,” Aidan says, knocking. “You still awake in there?”

As if I would let myself sleep. “Uh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I was, uh …” I survey the room, searching for something to use as a weapon. “I was, uh … thinking about everything you said.” The curtain rod is plastic. So are the coat hangers. Can I gouge his eye out with a pencil?

“Yeah?” His tone is suspicious.

“Yeah.” I struggle to keep my voice steady. “I mean, I suppose there are worse things than going back home.” My eyes land on the lamp. The lamp's my best bet.

“Really?”

If I can convince him to open the door, I can catch him off guard and make a run for it. I only need to disable him for a second. He's bigger, but I'm faster.

“Lyssa?”

I'm so focused on my plan, I let the conversation drop. Frantically, I backpedal. “Um, sorry …”
What did I just say?
Right. Home.
“I think I might be ready to talk about going home.”

There's a long pause. “You mean that? Because you said —”

“I know, but,” — on my hands and knees, I move slowly toward the dresser — “well, now that Vince is gone, we might actually be able to make a go of it — and, like you said, we've got the bakery.”

“We could make it work, you know. We only need each other.”

“Uh-huh. Each other.” As I reach along the wall to unplug the lamp, my elbow bumps the back of the dresser, causing a thud.

“What are you doing in there?”

Distract him
. “You know, you were right,” I say quickly. “About Kyle and Liam. About every guy I care about screwing me over.” I pause and lick my lips. “Except for you.”

“I'll never hurt you, Lyssa.”

“I know that.” I get to my feet and pick up the lamp by the base. Carefully, I remove the fabric shade and place it on the bed. Then I examine the area around the door. The corner is too small to hide me. “I think maybe we just need to spend some more time together.”

“Things will be better when we get home.” He sounds all eager, like a puppy dog. “The feelings, they'll come back to you then.”

Whatever's in my stomach curdles. “Home.” I practically gag. “I want to go home, Aidan.”

I hear a shuffling on the other side of the door. It sounds like he's getting up. “You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that.”

I almost feel guilty, but it passes quickly. I grip the lamp tighter and position myself against the wall, next to the door.

“Aidan,” I say. “You don't have to keep me locked in here. I'll go with you. If you want we can even leave right now.”

He falls silent again. I don't like it when he does that. It gives him time to think.

“Aidan?”

“What about school?” he asks. “Your job?”

Shit. I wish I could see his face, read his expression.
“Maybe I'm not meant to go to university. Maybe there's a reason why the timing is off.”

“But wasn't it your dream?”

He's not buying it.
“I can always go later. Like after the bakery makes some money.” I keep talking while I make myself flush to the wall, praying I'll magically become invisible. If he opens the door, there's a chance he won't see me right away and I'll have enough time to pounce. “No student loan then. What if this was how things were supposed to work out all along?” Hopefully he'll step right into the room and I can hit him from behind.

Just silence.

“And my job,” I add. “I'll call Janet from the road.”
Please, please. “
Honestly, Aidan. Let's just do it. Let's go tonight. There's nothing keeping me here anymore.”

The floor squeaks over and over. He's pacing? Or rocking? “Why should I believe you?” he says. “Why should I believe that suddenly you're on board with this?”

While I try to think of an answer, I wrap the cord around the lamp base so it's out of the way — nothing to trip me up. “Because, Aidan. Because when you get down to it, we're all that's left of our family. We only have each other.”

The squeaking stops. I hold my breath. The bones in my back dig into the plaster until it feels as though they're going to pop through my skin.

Every heartbeat sends a tremor through my body. I glance down at my hands clutching the lamp. They're slippery with sweat. My knuckles are white. I don't move a muscle. Finally I hear the deadbolt slide. I watch the knob turn, the door start to open.

But he doesn't step in. He stays on the other side. “Lyss?” he says softly. I'm out of his sightline.

I hold my breath and don't answer. He still doesn't come in. He must suspect something. Then I see his head slowly emerge through the doorway, then immediately jerk to the side. Our eyes meet. It's like he knew I was there all along.
Fuck!

It happens fast. I sweep the lamp through the air in an arc, smashing it against his head. The bulb breaks. Startled, he stumbles, holding on to the door frame for balance. I make another sweep and jam the socket with the broken shards of glass into the side of his face. He stumbles again and lands on his knees. As I watch the blood drip from his cheek down his chin, I'm so shocked by my own violence that I forget to run.

He touches his fingers to the gash. His eyes widen as he lowers his hand and he sees the blood.

I drop the lamp and rush forward, desperate to squeeze past him. But he's back on his feet before I even get there. I waited too long — I missed my chance.

“I knew it! You lying bitch!” He grabs me by the wrist and twists my arm behind my back. The pain makes my eyes water. “I won't make
that
mistake again!” Then he shoves me hard, hard enough that I end up sprawled on the floor. It feels like I've been bashed in the chest with a block of cement. I can barely catch my breath. I lift my head, look back over my shoulder.

He's gone.

The door is shut.

I hear the deadbolt slide back into place.

CHAPTER 38

G
ently I run my fingers along my rib cage.
Shit, that hurts.
I crawl back to the door, careful to watch out for pieces of the shattered light bulb. It's not easy because my arms and legs are trembling — I'm beyond scared. Aidan's rage is like nothing I've seen before. I can't believe he pushed me like that. Then I think about what I did to him …

Unable to stand, I stay on my knees, wrap both hands around the knob, and turn. The door still doesn't open. Why did I think it would?

“So what now, Aidan?” I cry out.

No answer.

“Aidan!”

Nothing.

Tears pool in my eyes. “People know I'm here. Somebody's going to come looking for me.” The only problem is, no one knows where “here” is. Except Liam. And he's in P.E.I.

“I'll take my chances.” He knows I'm lying.

I sigh and close my eyes. “Aidan. Please let me out.”

He doesn't reply.

Fresh tears leak from my eyes, but they're tears of frustration. I'm so pissed. “You know, for someone who hated Vince so much, you turned out just like him! Locking me up the way he did!”

“It's the only useful thing he ever taught me,” Aidan shouts back.

It feels like a slap in the face.

“You don't get it, do you?” he says.

I slump against the door. “Get what?”

“Vince was locking you up to keep you away from me. He found out we used to meet up at night.”

“How? He never caught us.”

“He suspected. He asked, and I told him.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“There was no point denying it. He already knew how we felt about each other. That's why he kicked me out of the house in the first place.”

I ignore the
how we felt about each other
part, and the nauseous feeling it creates.
At least I have another piece of the puzzle — the cause of the big fight. “And you moved into the shed,” I say.

“He didn't expect that. He thought I'd just leave.”

Now I get it.
“That's why he burned it down. To drive you away.”

There's a long pause. “I burned it down. I locked him in, but he got out.”

“
You
?
Why?
”

“He found something. He was going to ruin everything.”

“Found something,” I echo. “Found what?”

“You won't understand.”

“What did he find, Aidan?”

Silence.

Resting the back of my head against the door, I can't help but think what Vince found were the cut-out pictures, or the cut-up books … or, God forbid, something worse. “I was right. Vince knew you were messed up a long time ago,” I say to myself.

But Aidan hears me and smashes his fist on the other side so hard it makes my skull bounce. “I'm not crazy!”

“I know,” I say quickly. “
I
never said you were.” I have to keep him calm, keep him talking. It's the only thing I can think of to do. “I mean, what would Vince know, right?”

“They kept trying to convince me I needed to be hospitalized, needed to be medicated.”

“They?”

“The doctors.”

“You didn't believe them?”

“No. They're all idiots.”

“They gave you pills. You took them, didn't you?”

“For a while.”

“And didn't they make you feel better?”

He smashes his fist on the door again. “Better than what? There's nothing wrong with me!”

“Then why did you take them?” I snap, all my patience shot to hell.

He snorts. “Don't try to get in my head, Lyssa. You can't.”

Prick.
“I'm just trying to understand, that's all.”

Silence, then he says, “I took them because they helped take the edge off — you know, of life. Then when you came, showed up at my door, everything changed. I knew I didn't need them anymore.”

“Why would me showing up make you think that?”

“Because I knew you were all I needed. And each day I didn't take a pill, I felt better, everything around me was clearer, I was more myself, the Aidan you love.”

Once again I'm glad he can't see my face, the horrified look.

“After a while, I knew I was all better, and yes, I flushed the pills.” He laughs. “Guess I was sloppy, like you were with the games.”

“Games? What are you talking about?”

“I found
Hannah Montana
on the floor by my bed. You should be more careful when you're going through other people's stuff.”

Shit. The Nintendo games. I must have dropped one, I was in such a rush. He knew I'd found the locks, made up that story about Glady's gate … “I was only looking for something that would help me figure out what was going on with you.”

“Yeah, you're a damn Nancy Drew in training, aren't you?”

I take a deep breath. “Aidan. Maybe you shouldn't have stopped taking your medication.”

“Maybe you should shut your fucking mouth!”

Either he really, really loves you, or really, really hates you …

“Please, Aidan,” I say. “Let me get you some help.”

“I don't need any
help
,” he spits.

Think, Lyssa.
“Okay, what if we try it your way? I'll do whatever you want. We'll see if we can figure it out together, just us.” I ooze just the right amount of sincerity. I almost believe what I'm saying.

“It's too late.”

I'm not sure I want to know what he means by that. “It's never too late.”

“I've done terrible things.”

I swallow.
“We've all done terrible things.”

Silence.

“Did I ever tell you about my mom?” he finally says.

“No.”

“She died in a fire.”

I see an opening. “Tell me about her.”

“Now
she
was crazy.”

“Crazy how?”

Silence.

“Aidan?”

“She said voices talked to her through the
TV
, told her what to do. I mean,
that's
crazy, isn't it?” Thankfully, he gives me no time to respond. “One night I overheard her telling Vince she was leaving, and that she wasn't taking me with her.”

“I'm sorry. That must have been hard to hear.”

“Why couldn't she have been more like
your
mom?”

I think about my complicated relationship with my mom, how we always seemed to butt heads. “We had our issues …”

“I know. She tells me about them all the time, how she wishes you two had gotten along better. She tells me to take you back home, make you happy. She wants us
both
to be happy.”

“Um.” I need a minute to absorb his words. “Um, she
tells
you, or she
told
you …?”

“Hell,
my
mom,” he goes on as if I hadn't spoken, “she didn't give a shit about my happiness. I mean, how can a mother leave her son?”

I try to concentrate. “Uh, she might have felt she had to leave.” My thoughts are still back on his comment about
my
mom telling him stuff — present tense. “You know, for a while anyway, until she was better.”

“No. I could tell. She wanted to go. But I never gave her the chance …” His voice trails off, leaving another long space of silence.

There's something about the way he said that. “What does that mean?”

“It was easy. Vince was at work …”

My back stiffens. I sit up straight. “What are you saying?” But I already know.

“I can't give you the chance either.”

Oh God.
All is quiet except for the thumping inside my head, as if somehow my heart is sitting behind my eyes.

I give the door another bang. “Aidan? Are you still out there?”

Nothing.

And then I hear it — a scrape, a whoosh, a fizz. I know that sound.

That's a match.