Hush

by Anne Malcom

  But in the end it didn’t matter because she had her license. And she went and bought herself a hundred-thousand-dollar car directly after. She felt vaguely sick at the amount of money she spent on it, but it was worth it. Plus, the Range Rover would serve a more practical purpose . . . later.

  Now, they were sitting in a bar somewhere downtown, drinking tequila in celebration of Orion getting her license.

  It was her first time in a bar.

  She’d been out with Maddox, but he’d been careful with his choices. Small, family-friendly restaurants. A movie at two in the afternoon.

  April was definitely not her careful brother who would have thought through what it might be like for a famous kidnap victim to be in a brightly-lit bar with thumping music and sticky floors. Orion both hated and liked it.

  “Cheers,” she muttered weakly, downing the liquid.

  She hadn’t done a shot of tequila before.

  The red wine she’d been introduced to at the Italian restaurant became part of Orion’s daily routine. She found enjoyment in searching for new wines from all over the world, ordered with a simple click of a button. She’d become accustomed to opening a bottle by four in the afternoon. Cabernet Sauvignon was her favorite. Most days, when she wasn’t working nights, April would arrive for dinner to help her with the second bottle.

  Everything was so much lighter with the wine. Freer.

  Sure, she overindulged on the nights she wanted to chase that feeling of fearlessness, of forgetfulness. And the headaches were bad. The depression that swam along with them was also bad. But nothing was worse than anything she’d already endured.

  Orion had not dabbled in other forms of alcohol, definitely not the joints that April smoked on the balcony of her apartment.

  So, the tequila went down rough, burning the sides of Orion’s throat. She was sure if she’d eaten anything today, it would’ve landed on the sticky floor.

  As it was, Orion barely managed to keep her stomach lining.

  April, on the other hand, looked like she’d just slammed some orange juice. To be fair, it seemed like the young woman was no stranger to the party scene. The stories she’d told Orion cemented that. She had many tales of nights starting in St. Louis, ending in an entirely different city, sometimes in different states. Bands she followed around the country for a while—until Maddox turned up and dragged her back. Boyfriends who were moderately famous and took her on glamourous weekends.

  She had lived her teenage years for the both of them.

  Orion was aware of the amount of time they spent together. The parties, dates, and other forms of normal life she must’ve said no to in order to hang out with her damaged childhood friend.

  She would’ve fought her presence more if all of her energy wasn’t spent on pushing Maddox away.

  “Do you think we inherit the sins of our parents?” Orion asked, the tequila no longer burning her throat but instead loosening her tongue.

  April blinked at the sentence plucked from the depth of Orion’s dark mind.

  “Damn, some deep shit, girl.” April chuckled. “What do you mean exactly?” she asked carefully, dipping a chip in the salsa the bartender had deposited earlier.

  Orion sipped at the margarita—much tastier than the straight tequila—before she answered. She regarded the chips and salsa and decided her stomach was not yet ready for food.

  “I got my eyes from my mother. My hair from my father. Many other qualities from a mixture of the two of them. So, doesn’t it make sense that I inherited their sins as well? Their cruelty, their selfishness? It’s somewhere inside of me.”

  She was ashamed at the way her voice sounded. How small and uncertain. She was even more ashamed she uttered the words themselves.

  April’s face turned dark. All angles. Furious.

  Orion had seen a glimmer of that when they had argued months ago, when April had cemented herself into her life, but nothing like this. The easygoing, smiling and light April was nowhere to be seen. She resembled Maddox more than ever.

  She tapped two fingers on the bar, raising her brows at the bartender before turning her gaze back to Orion.

  “You need to shut that voice the fuck up right now,” she hissed, snatching her hand. April knew about Orion’s aversion to touch. She’d respected it, caught herself moments before she tried to hug her, squeeze her hand, or touch her in any way.

  She wasn’t respecting it now.

  April yanked Orion closer to her.

  “Your parents were who they were not because of blood, genetics, or their parents. They had a choice,” she continued. “They knew what it was like to have hands on them, empty bellies, hearts full of fear. Instead of purging that away, they drowned in it.” April paused. “Do you think Adam was cruel or evil?”

  Orion flinched. April hadn’t said his name in front of Orion before. Another way she’d been protecting her. But she wasn’t now. She was mad, and Orion liked that. Liked the pain over Adam’s name uttered from April’s lips. The dirt in her soul coming from the way April was squeezing her hand.

  “Of course not,” Orion managed to grit out.

  April nodded. “Adam wasn’t evil. There was not an ounce of cruelty inside him. We are born pure. Innocent. Some people are born evil, like the ones who took you.”

  April took both of the shots the bartender had laid down, handing one to Orion.

  Despite the fact that she hated the taste of it, she liked the burn, liked the way the liquid sickened and softened her at the same time.

  This one went down better than the first.

  “Some people are born evil,” April repeated, putting her empty glass on the bar. “And some are born good, like Adam. Like you. Like Maddox.” She narrowed her eyes, sharp and knowing. “You don’t fool me, Orion. I know you fancy yourself as someone mean, wrong, dirty because of what you went through. But that is something they did. That is not you. The sins of your parents do not run through your veins. The sins of those monsters are nothing but marks on your skin. Battle scars. Reminders that you survived them. Defeated them. They do not define you.”

  She reached for two more shot glasses. “Now, do a fucking shot and let’s talk about how great Eric would look in a Speedo.”

  And though it seemed absolutely impossible to do so after everything April had just said, Orion did the shot.

  She let April talk about Eric’s ass, abs, and how well-endowed he was. “I can see it through his pants,” she said.

  She let it happen.

  But she did not let April’s words hit home. Because she was wrong. Orion had not defeated the monsters. They did define her. She was bad, wrong, and evil. At least she was planning to be, now that she had a license and a way to transport their bodies.

  Fifteen

  “You know, at first I was really sure I hated tequila, but now I’m quite fond of it,” Orion declared, not recognizing the lightness in her voice. Not recognizing the lightness in her soul.

  April grinned. “That’s tequila for you. It’s a fucker. I’m a fan.”

  Orion was too.

  April leaned forward to touch the pendant at Orion’s neck, and she held her breath. Aprils finger barely touched Orion’s bare skin, but it may as well have sliced it with a blade. She hadn’t recovered from the way she’d gripped her hand hours and many tequilas ago. Well, she had at least forgotten about it, thanks to those many tequilas.

  “This is new,” April said, unaware of what her casual gesture was doing to Orion. April had a better tolerance than Orion, to be sure, but she was well on her way to becoming drunk. That meant she was no longer noticing Orion’s subtleties, remembering her traumas.

  Orion sucked in a breath. The handcuff pendant had cost more than Orion thought jewelry could even be worth, but she liked that. Liked that she was wearing a diamond chain around her neck, paid for by her pain and torture. Paid for by those men. Something hers.

  “Oh my God, you’re her,” someone declared from beside Orion, stopping her
from answering.

  “Stacy, stop, come on,” someone else whined.

  Orion turned to see a tall woman swaying slightly, standing far too close. Another woman stood behind her, looking uncomfortable and slightly more sober.

  Though Orion didn’t think she was the best judge of sober right now, considering she was pretty sure she was drunk, evidenced by the fact she wasn’t having a full-on panic attack at the strange girl’s proximity.

  “I’m who?” Orion replied.

  The girl’s eyes glowed. She was pretty, Orion’s age, maybe a little older. Orion wasn’t the best at judging that kind of thing. Girls wore so much makeup and so little clothing. They were adept at trying to look older than they were, and they didn’t know how dangerous that was.

  “You’re one of them,” she stage-whispered. “Orion, right?”

  Orion stiffened, sobering too quickly to be of any real use to herself.

  April reacted, of course, but she’d had just as many tequila shots and twice as many margaritas. “You need to move it on, girlfriend. We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  It might’ve been more effective if April hadn’t almost fallen off her stool trying to say those words.

  As it was, it didn’t dissuade the girl. She wobbled on her heels but caught herself before she fell. Orion was pissed that the girl didn’t land on the floor and break her nose.

  “Oh my God, it really is you,” she whispered, eyes wide. “I, like, am so inspired by you. Here, living your life. After going through all of that.” She waved her hand dismissively beside her head. Then she leaned in farther, so Orion smelled her cheap perfume and sickly-sweet breath. “That’s crazy you were, like, tortured and shit.”

  Orion launched herself off the stool and at the girl. A drunk twenty-something in heels was never going to stay vertical when another drunk twenty-something pounced on her, so they both went tumbling to the floor.

  It was a sudden transition, sitting on a stool, enjoying corn chips and light conversation with April, to taking out all her aggression on a stranger, but Orion found herself unable to stop. She was so angry at this girl for interrupting the one moment she’d had in ten years where she didn’t feel like a victim, where she could pretend she was never taken at all. She was angry at the damn world.

  She vaguely noted people yelling things, weak attempts to break them up, but she was in a world of her own. A world of fists, nails, hair pulling. She’d give the girl credit, she was a fighter too. Orion tasted blood from where she’d punched her in the mouth, and she was happy about it. It was the first time she’d felt something since the chain came off her ankle.

  But then someone was more successful at breaking them up. Someone that smelled like leather and tobacco held Orion, speaking in her ear, carrying her out of the bar.

  Maddox.

  “Eric is taking you home.” Maddox’s voice punctuated Orion’s haze.

  She blinked the world into focus, unsure if she’d actually passed out, or whether she just hadn’t been paying attention.

  He had arrived at some point during the fight that had turned into an all-out brawl, April taking on the girl’s friends. Maddox had either known they were there and had the police scanner on, or it was just luck.

  Orion was not lucky, so it was obviously the former.

  She came back to herself in the parking lot, being half-carried by Maddox. His hands were on her. His touch was all over her. That should’ve been bad. It should’ve been a disaster.

  It was uncomfortable, it was painful, but Orion did not feel the need to fight like a banshee to get away from him.

  She must have still been drunk.

  “I’m not leaving Orion,” April protested, leaning heavily on Eric whose face was blank, but Orion suspected the lightness in his eyes was due to amusement. And maybe something else. Maybe he was enjoying having April leaning on him that way. Surely, he was too noble to act on any feelings he might have, even if she was sober. Maddox was his partner and it should’ve been against guy code or some shit.

  So fucking stupid.

  Eric was the one man who would be good for April. From what Orion had heard, she’d been treated badly by shitty guys.

  “Yes, you fuckin’ are,” Maddox hissed at his sister, too angry to be aware of anything else going on. His grip on Orion tightened as his anger leeched into him physically. “You’re the reason she’s here. She’s drunk and she’s fucking bleeding. So you’re going to get your ass home and we will talk later.”

  April folded her arms and readied herself to square off with Maddox. Orion recognized the gesture from all those years ago when they were all kids and the two of them fought about everything.

  Orion waited for the battle to begin.

  But she hadn’t factored in the handsome, calm, strong, and perhaps infatuated man beside April.

  He leaned in, his hand on her hip, steadying her. Eric spoke quietly into April’s ear, and whatever he said calmed the wildness inside of her with a quickness Orion had never seen. No one had been able talk April down before.

  “Orion, I’ll call you when you get home. We’ll go out tomorrow night,” she said with a smirk.

  “No, you fucking won’t,” Maddox growled.

  April flipped him the bird but let Eric guide her toward her car. She blew Orion a kiss over his shoulder.

  Both Orion and Maddox watched them get into the car.

  Orion wished she was April then, much like she had when she was younger, bitter about her situation and desperate for a new family. A new life. She fantasized often about what would’ve happened if she were born a Novak.

  The feeling of jealousy was familiar, but she had deeper needs now. Deeper trauma.

  “Orion.” Maddox’s voice was gentle but edged with residual anger.

  She wondered if he was angry with her. She sure hoped so. Orion was fucking sick of him being so goddamn nice to her.

  Her gaze flickered toward him. No scowl illuminated in the street lights. It disappointed her.

  “You want to get in the car?” He nodded toward the vehicle.

  Orion stared at it. On autopilot, she walked over to it. He opened the door for her, because that was Maddox.

  He got in and didn’t start the car until she buckled up.

  Then they left the bar behind.

  The ride was silent at first, mostly because Orion was trying to get her bearings. She’d never really been drunk before, drinking that vodka beside Jaclyn’s dead body didn’t count. She hadn’t felt drunk, at least. Not like this, with things blurring in her memory as they were happening. Life in slow motion. Her stomach roiling.

  It was too much like the feeling from the drugs they injected her with. Orion hated it. Sitting in the car in the silence made it all the more prominent. Unavoidable. Maddox was the only reason she wasn’t freaking out right now.

  There was no chain on her ankle. No emptiness in her stomach, no agony between her legs—she wasn’t there. She was safe with Maddox.

  “I passed my driver’s test,” Orion said lamely.

  At least she wasn’t slurring now.

  Maddox kept his eyes on the road. “I figured.” The words were short, brisk, but there was also a kind of dry humor attached to them. None of the clipped fury he had spoken to April with.

  Of course not. He couldn’t talk harshly to the poor little victim.

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them again. Even though it was dark, she could make out Maddox’s profile. The strong jaw, the nose that was ever so slightly crooked. It hadn’t been like that before. Had he broken it in football? Fighting over a girl? Trying to arrest a drunk?

  She wanted to ask him about why his nose was crooked now. What his life had been like. High school. College. Vacations.

  Questions that shouldn’t be so damned hard to ask. But the mundane was hard for Orion. She was an expert at handling the horrible, but the everyday was somehow impossible.

  “She recognized me,” Orion said aft
er a few more minutes.

  Maddox glanced over at her but didn’t speak.

  “She recognized me from the news,” Orion continued. “It was a shitty thing to do, but she didn’t mean any real malice. She was young. Drunk. Stupid.” Orion paused. With hindsight, albeit blurry, she could see just how harmless the girl was. The world was different now. People did shit like that, took photos on their phones of “celebrities,” lived their lives online. Everything was fair game.

  She was used to bracing herself for attention she didn’t want. She just had to repurpose the shields she’d used in The Cell to make them work for this social media world.

  “She was old enough to be in a bar,” Maddox said after a beat. “She’s old enough to know fuckin’ better.”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Definitely,” he replied. He glanced over at her, stopping at a red light. He reached toward her, hand featherlight on her chin, brushing against the bruise on her cheek.

  Orion had given the girl much, much worse, and she probably deserved to be in handcuffs right now.

  She wanted to capture this moment, this memory, of Maddox touching her where it already felt painful.

  “I fucking hate that you got hurt,” he said, pulling his arm back as the light turned green.

  Orion gritted her teeth, swallowing all the cruel retorts on the tip of her tongue. The need to hurl something about the fact she’d been plenty hurt in this decade was almost overpowering. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.”

  “Maddox, it’s nothing,” she repeated.

  He didn’t fight her this time. “I don’t like the thought of you and April out doing shit like that,” he said. “The two of you are important to me. And she’s so fucking reckless.”

  Important to him.

  “It wasn’t all her,” Orion said. “As much as you love to think of me as some fragile, easily swayed victim, I have free will. If I didn’t want to be at that bar, I wouldn’t have been there. If I didn’t want to drink the tequila, I wouldn’t have.” She couldn’t keep the bite from her voice.