Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

Forgetting to turn off the shower, I reached over and grabbed my towel, holding it up to my body.

  “Martin?” I said.

  The shadow peeled back the curtain slowly, and a lump swelled in my throat as Damon Torrance stepped into the shower with me.

  “What the hell?” I barked.

  But he just came closer, closing the curtain and approaching me with a towel around his waist, his smile coming into view.

  “Martin?” he repeated. “Why would your brother be stalking the girls’ locker room?”

  “Why are you?”

  I backed into the wall, the shower spilling over my shoulders and drenching the towel I clasped to my body.

  He shrugged. “Practice just ended. I needed a shower.”

  “The team isn’t practicing tonight.” I shoved him in the chest, pushing him away. “You’ve been here. Were you waiting for me?”

  But he just came right back in, pinning me to the wall. “Shhh…”

  He stroked my hair, pressing his body into mine as he breathed down on me.

  My knees started to tremble, and I clenched my thighs, suddenly feeling like I was going to wet myself.

  I jerked away, pushing at him with one hand and holding my towel with the other. “What do you want?”

  He pinned my wrist to the wall at my side as he smiled down. “I want to know what he sees in you. Maybe I’ll see it, too.”

  My stomach twisted into a knot. I’d rather fucking die.

  I looked up into his black eyes and smelled that shit he smoked, a scream lodged in my throat.

  Just scream.

  Scream.

  There was no one here to hear me, and even if there were, Martin Scott wouldn’t believe me. I was going to pay for this either way.

  “Get out,” I gritted through my teeth. “Get the hell away from me!”

  “I thought you’d have more fight,” he said, studying me. “You’re kind of disappointing.”

  What, you can only get hard if I’m scared?

  I was scared.

  “Leave.” I glared up into his eyes and then slapped him, but he shot out for my hands, trying to get a hold of them as I fought.

  My towel fell, and he caught both my wrists, bending my arms at the elbows and holding my hands between our chests, using his weight to keep them pinned.

  “Leave!” I growled.

  “Then scream,” he demanded instead.

  I locked my jaw, pretending I was tough, but I was breathing a mile a minute.

  He looked into my eyes, the water falling over both of us as he searched my face. “Why don’t you scream?”

  You wouldn’t understand.

  I gathered it was new for him. He preyed, because it got him off, but it ruined all of his plans when he wasn’t the victim’s first rodeo, didn’t it?

  Because it wasn’t the blood he was after, but the fear.

  It wasn’t the sex, but the power.

  His eyes trailed down my neck and slowly down my arm, narrowing.

  I don’t scream, because….

  “Because screaming doesn’t help,” he murmured. “Does it?”

  My heart thundered in my chest, but I remained frozen, staring up at him as he looked at my body and the bruises in the shapes of fingers wrapped around my upper arm. The scrapes on my legs and the blue and purple on my shoulders.

  “Because you get tired of being the victim,” he said, like he was thinking out loud, “and it’s easier to just let it happen.”

  He raised his eyes, meeting mine again, and my throat stretched painfully as his words burrowed into me.

  He loosened his hold, but I didn’t run.

  “To just pretend we’re in control of everything happening to us,” he told me.

  He blinked a few times, his demeanor completely changed, a troubled set to his brow.

  My chin trembled.

  “Until you can’t remember who you were before you started lying even to yourself,” he added. “Until you can’t remember ever smiling when it didn’t fucking hurt.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and I ground my teeth to keep my shit together.

  Abuse can feel like love.

  I remembered his words from lit class.

  Starving people will eat anything.

  His eyes fell down my body again, his head cocking and taking the purple and red on one side of my torso and the others on my thighs.

  He didn’t have any marks that I could see, but there were other kinds of pain.

  “Will is like that,” he said, his voice softening, somber now. “Isn’t he?”

  Like a smile that doesn’t hurt. I nodded.

  “Easy, normal, peaceful…” he told me. “The only thing in my life untouched by anything ugly. Nothing has tainted him. He’s the one thing that’s still beautiful and thinks the world is beautiful and believes people are beautiful and all that shit.”

  Yeah. But I couldn’t say it out loud, because it was hard enough holding back the sob.

  “You can’t take him away from me,” Damon told me, stepping back and letting me go.

  And in that moment, I understood exactly what his problem was. He didn’t dislike me. He resented Will liking me so much.

  One day of wearing his school tie, because I loved the way he made me feel that I had to have a piece of him with me every moment, was nothing compared to the years Damon had relied on Will to be his little beacon of hope that the world was still a pretty place.

  “You know it won’t work anyway,” Damon pointed out. “His family is one of the wealthiest in the country, Emory. His life is so far beyond your understanding, and vice versa. You know you have no place in Will Grayson’s Homecoming picture.”

  I dropped my eyes, slowly sinking down and picking up my soaked towel, holding it over my body.

  “I know,” he continued. “Hurts to hear it, but it’s true, and you know it. And what’s more? It’s pointless, because you know how you are. Even I know how you are. The whole school knows. He won’t fit, because you’re committed to being miserable and you’ll just drag him down.”

  I fisted my hands, wanting to scratch him up good.

  I was not miserable. I was…

  My heart sank, and I looked away.

  He was right. What had I done since the beginning but push Will away?

  I knew how it would end, so I knew better than to let it start.

  “He wore you down,” Damon went on, “and you need a release. I get it.”

  He approached me again, water spraying over his body as he hovered over me, imposing in a different way now that still scared me, but didn’t frighten like before.

  “So take it for what it is,” he whispered. “And release with me.”

  My stomach swirled. Huh?

  “His infatuation will end, so pretend you’re the one in control,” Damon taunted. “Call it for what it is, because it’s sure as shit not love. It’s a crush. Hormones. Instant gratification. Acting out.”

  No. It wasn’t.

  Was it?

  I mean, was he right? Was Will just a scratching post? Would he ever be anything more? I knew he wouldn’t.

  I could do it with anyone. I could do anything I wanted to. Will wasn’t the only person I could escape with.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” Damon asked. “That need kids like us feel that Will never will? That need to destroy anything good, because every man for himself, and if you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em.” He came in and caressed my hair, and my chest ached, like something wanted to tear out of it, and I just wanted the pain to end.

  Even for a minute.

  I wanted the control.

  “That tingle between your thighs,” he panted, “that’s telling you to just let it happen, because in the backseat of my car is where you’ll be in charge.”

  I trembled, tears pooling, but when he pressed his body into mine, I gasped, my eyes falling closed.

  “And when you’re done with me,” he breathed out over my mouth, “you’ll get t
o be the first to walk away from something that was never going to happen anyway. You can do that with me. Don’t play with his heart. Use me, instead.”

  I’d be in charge, because I’d never love Damon.

  I’d never be broken.

  “I’m good,” he whispered, holding my eyes. “I’m really good, Emory, and I’ll make it worth it and save you the pain of him. As long as you quit now.”

  I planted my hands on his chest, entertaining what it would be like.

  What it would be like to feel him on top of me.

  What it would be like to kiss that mouth.

  I thought about what it would be like…for a moment.

  And then I blinked long and hard, clearing my throat.

  He was good. I’d admit that. No wonder he got as much ass as he got, because if all anyone wanted was sex, Damon Torrance was gifted at manipulating someone’s mind. Putting the right glasses over someone’s eyes to make them see the world how he wanted them to see it.

  God help the woman who ever fell in love with him.

  I was tempted. I was tired of myself, and it was alluring—the prospect of not being me for a night.

  But Will liked Em. I’d rather live in that memory of the movie theater forever than ever make another one with anyone else.

  I pushed Damon away. “And you call yourself his friend.”

  He stood there, faltering for a moment, but then he chuckled, recovering. “His best friend,” he pointed out. “Maybe he sent me to test you.”

  I rolled my eyes, wrapping my towel around me and shutting off the water.

  “Or maybe not,” he said, and I looked over to see his eyes falling down my body slowly. “You would’ve liked it, you know? I think I might’ve liked it, actually. It certainly wouldn’t have been a chore.”

  Asshole.

  “Get out,” I said.

  He nodded, turning around. “Well, I tried.” And then he looked back at me over his shoulder. “Has Will seen the bruises?”

  I tensed.

  “Be prepared for what’s going to happen when he does,” he warned. “And what can happen to him if he goes up against a cop.”

  He walked out, and I stood there, my shoulders slowly slumping with the weight of his words.

  Will could never see the bruises.

  • • •

  The moon hung low, casting the only light into the kitchen as I unloaded the dishwasher. I stacked the glasses and sorted the silverware, refusing to look at the clock that chimed on the wall, the pendulum inside ticking away the seconds.

  “You should get to bed,” a voice said.

  I faltered, hearing Martin behind me.

  He approached my side and reached down, picking up a couple of plates out of the washer and handing them to me.

  I took them, bracing myself. “I will after this,” I murmured. “Promise.”

  I turned and put the plates in the cabinet, waiting for his temper. Always waiting.

  “Your grades are looking good,” he told me instead. “And the gazebo is coming along. People compliment me on it.”

  He loaded the dirty bowl and fork into the dishwasher, and I rinsed out the sink and wiped off the counters.

  “You still have a year to start applying, but I’ll try to help with anywhere you want to go to college,” he said. “Okay?”

  I blinked away the sudden burn in my eyes, nodding. These moods were harder to take sometimes than the violence.

  I wiped down the stove, setting the spoon rest back in place and waiting for him to leave.

  But then, I felt his fingers brush my hair, and I stopped, standing there but still not looking at him.

  “I’m sorry, you know?” he choked out, and I could hear the tears in his throat.

  I locked my jaw, trying to keep it together.

  “I do love you, Emmy.” He paused. “That’s why I want you to go. You’ll be the one thing in this family that’s not a fucking failure.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Please, just go. Please.

  “It just builds up,” he explained at my back, “all day, every day, until I can’t see straight, and I’m confused and blinded and ready to jump out of my skin. It’s like I can’t stop it.”

  And when he comes home, he takes it out on me, because I won’t tell and I won’t run.

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing when I do it,” he mumbled. “I just can’t stop.”

  A tear fell down my cheek, but I didn’t make any noise.

  “You know this isn’t me,” he said. “Right?”

  I nodded, finishing the stove.

  “Remember when I used to let you ride in the front seat?” he said, laughing a little. “Even though Mom said you were too little, so I’d wait until we got out of the driveway, and then I’d let you crawl up front?”

  I forced a laugh. “Yeah.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “As long as I promised not to tell Mom you were running a casino night in the basement while they were in Philadelphia that time.”

  He chuckled. “Is it strange that someone who loved breaking the rules became a police officer?”

  “No,” I told him. “They make the best cops. They know all the tricks.”

  He grinned. “True.”

  And what better place for a criminal to hide?

  I didn’t say that out loud, though.

  “I got you something today.”

  He turned and dried off his hands, walking to the table where a brown bag sat. Reaching in, he pulled out a large, hardcover book and came over, handing it to me.

  “It’s used, but it caught my eye today when I walked past the library’s sidewalk sale.”

  Greatest Deep Sea Dives.

  I smiled and started flipping through it, evidencing my interest. “It’s great,” I chirped. “The photography is so beautiful.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  He turned and grabbed his Thermos and lunchbox, and a glimmer of relief hit me, knowing he was getting ready to leave for the night shift. I drew in a welcome lungful of air.

  “I love coffee table books,” I assured him. “Thanks for remembering.”

  He came over and kissed my forehead, and I stilled, only relaxing again when he’d backed away.

  “Lock up tight,” he said. “And sleep well. I’ll be home at seven.”

  “Bye.”

  He left, heading to work, but it wasn’t until I heard his car engine fade away down the street that I finally moved.

  Putting the grocery bag in recycling, I carried my book, checking the doors and making sure lights were off before heading upstairs to my room. I left the lamp off and trailed to my bookshelf, pushing the row of books upright again and slipping in the newest addition to my collection.

  Barcelona: An Architectural History.

  101 Most Amazing Caves.

  Always Audrey: Six Iconic Photographers. One Legendary Star.

  West: The American Cowboy.

  History of the World Map by Map…

  I backed up, reading all the other spines on the two shelves, heavy with more than just the weight of the hardbacks. I liked to put them on the shelf whenever he gave me one. It pleased him to see me display his gifts, but also…it was like I’d accomplished something. It was like a trophy.

  When the bruises faded, and I had nothing else to show for what would never fade in my head, I had this.

  One book for every time I stood back up.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  He’d bought me other things over the years, presents every time he’d spent his anger and the guilt crept in, and those things were also set about the room. Things I’d leave behind when I left, so that when he came in here, he’d see and remember everything, but I’d be gone.

  I dropped my eyes.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  My grandmother slept down the hall, the record player in her room working its way to the end of side A, and I wanted her to li
ve forever, but sometimes…

  Martin would be so much worse if she weren’t here. She was the only person who loved me. I needed her to stay alive.

  But she was in pain.

  And if she were still alive when I was supposed to go to college, I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave her with him, and I’d have to stay here.

  I hated myself for that thought, but…

  While I didn’t want her to go, I needed to get out of here.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  I hugged myself in my cardigan, only wearing my sleep shorts and tank top underneath, and turned around to close my curtains.

  But someone sat there, in the corner of my room in my chair.

  I gasped, jumping back.

  “Hey,” Will said.

  My eyes widened, and I breathed hard, my heart still lodged in my throat. “What the hell?” I dashed to my window, plastering my cheek to the pane to get a view of the driveway and make sure my brother was gone.

  “No candle in your window tonight?” he asked.

  But I wasn’t listening. “Are you insane?”

  I scanned as much of the street as I could see through the tree outside, but I didn’t see Will’s truck. Hopefully, he’d parked it far away.

  How the hell did he get in here? My brother just left. He could’ve seen him.

  “You have to light a candle, Emmy.”

  “I never light a candle!” I growled in a whisper so my grandma wouldn’t hear. “I don’t give a shit about EverNight. You have to leave.”

  He sat there, wearing jeans and an Army green T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes even from here. His hair was relaxed, the gel from the day about gone and laying across his temples so beautifully.

  “What did I say?” he said in a low voice. “If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”

  So I didn’t show up down at the end of the block. As important as a Mission: Impossible marathon was, I had other things to do, and he neglected to ask if I was free tonight.

  He stared up at me, his arms resting on the chair, and I forced a scowl, despite the shot of excitement through my body at seeing him.

  “I can’t believe Emory Scott has a poster of Sid and Nancy on her wall,” he joked. “A couple of obnoxious junkies, one who could barely even play his guitar.”

  “Please,” I asked, ignoring his teasing. “You can’t be here.”