Wake for Me (Life or Death Series)

by Irons, Isobel

  There was a knock on her door, and Viola lifted her robe from the back of the chair, sliding it on and belting it before she finally called, “Come in.”

  That was one of the first changes she’d made after being restored to nearly full health. No one could enter her room without knocking first. Not even Dr. Chakrabarti.

  When the door opened slowly, and Brady poked his head around the corner, Viola felt her heart sink in her chest. She’d been hoping for Sam. But these days, it seemed like he visited her even less than Aiden did. Which should’ve seemed natural, she supposed, because Aiden was her boyfriend. But it didn’t.

  “What do you want, Brady?” Too depressed to deal with his particularly base form of humor, Viola kicked off her slippers and climbed into bed. Undeterred, Brady fell into the chair by her bedside and propped his feet up on the edge of her mattress.

  “I want what every man wants, dollface. Life, laughter, and the pursuit of happiness. And of course, the love of a good women. Or,” he held up a finger, “I will also settle for the love of many, many ‘sort of okay’ women.”

  Staring up at the ceiling, Viola closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers over her eyelids, careful not to disturb her makeup.

  “I’m going to count to three. And if you don’t start making sense by then, you are so…out of here.”

  “It’s nine-thirty,” he said.

  “Yes, I know it is.” It was also three and a half hours after Sam had finished his last shift, but he hadn’t come in to say goodbye, or stayed any longer than necessary when he was making the rounds. That fact bothered her much, much more than it should have.

  “That means it’s time for your sleeping pill, party girl.”

  When Viola opened her eyes, Brady was holding his hand up like a tray, with a small plastic cup and a little orange pill.

  “What happened to Jodi?” Jodi was the new nurse on staff. She was nice, in a really annoying, fake-smiling kind of way.

  Brady grinned, like he’d been waiting for her to ask. “It’s not what happened to Jodi. It’s what’s about to happen to Jodi. Long story short, she’s a little bit scared of you. So I offered to bring you your meds, as step one in my master plan—”

  “To hit that,” Viola finished. “I get it, Brady. We all get it.”

  “Wow, look who’s feeling testy with a side of ball-breaker.” He held up the cup a little higher. “Someone needs a major nap. Go ahead. Take one of these and maybe be a little less mean to me in the morning.”

  “No thanks,” she waved away the cup. “I’m feeling really tired already.”

  Plus, the sleep medication gave her some very vivid and disturbing dreams, and made her talk in her sleep. A lot. Considering the content of some of those dreams—at least, the few she could remember—Viola wasn’t all that keen on sharing the details with the entire hospital staff. Especially Sam, on the off-chance he ever visited her again.

  “Are you sure?” Brady stood, waving the cup like it was a special treat. It made Viola wish she was the kind of girl who punched people in the face.

  “Yes,” she said. “And please hang the…thing on the door, on your way out. ‘Do not disturb.’”

  “Alright, princess,” he said, turning to leave. He paused with his hand on the door knob, addressing her over his white-coated shoulder. “But just in case your downer mood has anything to do with a certain guy? Whose name rhymes with Ham? You might want to know that it’s not about you. He’s been really distracted lately, just dealing with some family stuff. That’s all it is.”

  “Right.” Viola reached down and fiddled with the clasp on her watch, so he wouldn’t see the pathetically hopeful look that had probably just flashed across her face. “Family.”

  Straightening her spine, she fixed Sam’s best friend with a cool, aloof stare.

  “Is that all, or did you want to nauseate me some more with…stories about your…made-up conquests?”

  Brady grinned shamelessly, shaking his head. “Nope, that was pretty much it.”

  After the door closed behind him, Viola slid down lower in the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chest. She didn’t bother turning off the light. In fact, she’d probably never be able to sleep in the dark again.

  Oh well, at least she was rich. Being rich tended to make other people a lot more willing to put up with your eccentricities. Like the way her hyper-insecure mother had always requested an extra room at whatever hotel they were staying, just so she could have a private place to try on outfit after outfit when getting ready for the day. It used to drive Viola insane, but now she could almost understand. Nobody liked to be watched during their weakest moments, when they were least sure of themselves.

  Time and time again, Viola had gone over the last few weeks in her mind, trying to pinpoint the exact moment she’d lost her hold over Sam. The moment he’d stopped seeing her as this supernatural, unstoppable force, and had started seeing her as a mere human being. With human flaws and weaknesses, and a whole collection of super-human insecurities. Had it been the first time she’d caught herself hallucinating, that night on the roof? Or afterwards, when she’d started to doubt whether or not she was awake at random moments in the day? At any rate, it had happened, and there was no going back. No matter how much she wished they could.

  ***

  Giant snowflakes fall from the sky, landing on the ground around me and disappearing into the asphalt as I walk toward the big, gray warehouse.

  The neighborhood is a bad one, and I’m grateful for the state-of-the-art alarm system on my car. If anyone so much as breathes on it, a signal will ping off a satellite somewhere, and the police will arrive in less than five minutes. My dad relies heavily on this fact, especially because the same system also lets him know where I am at all times.

  Inside, the world becomes a deafening, confusing place. I find a spot near the wall, where I can see both the door and the stage, and I wait for someone to serve me. Eventually—after much too long a wait—a waiter comes up and I order a glass of merlot, because it’s a varietal that’s almost impossible to get wrong, even in its cheapest form. When it finally comes, I sip it, but then quickly set it back down. I was wrong. Someone has managed to make even the world’s easiest grape undrinkable.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispers to me that something is wrong with this picture. That I’m being too guarded, or not guarded enough. But I brush it away, because I’m upset.

  Where in the hell is Aiden? He was supposed to be here five minutes ago. I look down at my cell phone, because for the first time in ages, I’m not wearing my Cartier watch. I was worried about drawing attention to myself in such a bad neighborhood.

  Or were you feeling guilty, because your daddy gave you the watch? the voice whispers.

  I look up, just in time to see a girl fall headfirst from the balcony and land on the floor. Someone screams. Everyone else laughs. I look away, too distracted to care.

  I’m not feeling guilty, though. Just making the best of a less-than-desirable situation. So I didn’t get into Columbia. So what? I’ll go on tour with Aiden, and become the belle of all the gossip rags, and before long no one will even think to ask what college I went to.

  A photographer spots me from across the room, and before long I’m surrounded by flashes of light. I slide my sunglasses on and fake an indulgent smile.

  “The wine, Viola,” one of them yells. “Take a sip for the cameras!”

  I sigh, resigning myself to choke down more of the offensive liquid. It tastes like oil in my mouth. After I’m done, the photographers lose interest and fade away.

  If I tell my father now, he’ll just fly into an overzealous fit and call everyone important he can think of until my name gets put on the right kind of lists. He’ll use his money and influence, and then I’ll be just like every other spoiled little debutante who couldn’t make the leap from childhood to adulthood on her own.

  “Poor little rich girl,” they’ll say. “Spoiled little daddy’s
girl. She was too dumb to get into school. It’s a good thing she’s pretty.”

  People will find out the truth. They always do. Everyone will know.

  The crowd parts, and for a split second, I catch a glimpse of Aiden. I rise to my feet. But it isn’t him. In fact, it looks a bit like Uncle Jack. I blink, and the face changes into a stranger’s.

  So I won’t study business, or marketing. It doesn’t matter. I keep telling myself that lie, adding more details with each repetition, until I start to believe it. I’ll dominate the headlines of every gossip magazine and website in the world, until the name Bellerose hangs on everyone’s lips. One way or another, I’ll make my father proud. Even if it’s not his way.

  My fingernails are bleeding. I roll my eyes and reach for my purse, searching for a tissue or something. How inconvenient.

  “Here, let me take care of you.” I look up, and Sam is standing in front of me. “You really shouldn’t keep letting him hurt you like this, Viola.”

  “I know,” I say, feeling my heart skip a beat. “If I kiss you, will you make it better?”

  My phone vibrates on the table, shaking the entire room. Aiden’s song blares through the speaker:

  I scream a prayer to every god, in heaven or in hell. I never thought you'd punish me, by sleeping in so well. Wake for me, I swear I'll stay. Take from me, whatever you need…to be okay.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “I know this song. Those aren’t the right words.”

  I look up at Sam, hoping that he’ll help me, that he’ll fill in the blanks. But he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the door. There’s a man standing there. I recognize him.

  “I have to go,” I tell him, suddenly remembering why I came.

  Sam tries to stop me with a hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t go,” he says. “You’re only safe when you’re with me.”

  I shrug his hand off and run toward the door. This is wrong. I’m supposed to kiss him goodbye, to prove that I can still control things. My phone is vibrating again, quieter in my hand, but I ignore it. Just as I reach the man at the door, he turns away and walks out toward the street.

  “Calvin!” I call after him. “Hey Calvin!”

  Aiden’s manager turns around with a stiff smile on his face.

  “Where is Aiden?” I ask him. “He’s supposed to be playing here. He’s supposed to meet me.”

  When Calvin opens his mouth, his entire jaw unhinges like a wooden nutcracker.

  “See…the thing is…Viola…Aiden thinks the two of you should take a break. He really needs to focus on his career right now.”

  “What?” I’m livid. “Did he tell you to say that? Why? Because he’s too much of a coward to tell me himself? Well, screw that! Where is he? He’s going to explain himself, if it’s the last thing he does.”

  “Don’t go, Viola….” He reaches into my purse, handing me my car keys. “He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want you. He never did.”

  “Go to hell,” I tell him, and he bursts into flames, the paint on his wooden face peeling away into ash. It flies into the air, joining the giant snowflakes.

  I storm over to my car, but my eyes are getting blurry, and it takes me three tries to fit the key into the lock.

  I start the engine, and my seatbelt wraps around me like a big, black snake. It’s so tight, I can hardly breathe. But I’m too upset to slow down.

  As my tires hit the road, the city lights trail off into the distance like neon beams. I’m driving so fast, I can’t even see the street signs. But it doesn’t matter. I’m fueled by sheer rage.

  How could he do this to me? How could he lie? He didn’t write those words for me.

  Suddenly, there’s a light coming from behind me. I glance in the rearview mirror, and the road is on fire. My nostrils are filled with the smell of burning cedar.

  “You look so tired, mon chouchou,” a voice says, and I scream.

  Uncle Jack is sitting in the seat beside me, crossing his legs in perfectly tailored gray pants. He’s wearing my father’s ring, and smoking a cigar. My mother’s head is in his lap.

  “It’s time for you to go to sleep,” he says.

  He reaches toward me and his hand leaves a trail across my vision.

  My eyelids are so heavy. I’m so tired. The wheel spins free, out of my hands, as Uncle Jack clamps his fingers over my mouth.

  A thousand lights explode around me as I fly through the air. There’s a loud thudding noise. It jostles me awake. Uncle Jack is gone.

  I’m alone in my car, as cold, gray water rushes in all around me, from places I can’t see. It’s ridiculous, but I try to reach out and stop it with my hands. When that fails, as it should, I try to get out. But I’ll never get out.

  I’m drowning again.

  ***

  Viola woke from her latest nightmare with a loud gasp.

  This time, the details were completely clear. This time, she remembered everything.

  The bar. Aiden’s text message. Sam. The impulsive, vengeful kiss. But most vivid and disturbing was the memory of what had happened after that.

  Lungs burning, she looked around the room, taking stock of her defenses. Dead flowers, satin robe. A phone on the wall.

  She slid her feet out of bed, praying her legs weren’t too shaky to hold her. She needed to find out the truth, before anyone came for her. Before he came for her.

  Pulling the handset out of its cradle, she took a few deep breaths, then dialed from memory. It was like a part of her had been asleep all this time, just waiting until she was strong enough to learn the truth. And the voice in the back of her mind was telling the truth, Viola could feel it.

  After a few rings, a man’s voice picked up.

  “Yes, I need to speak with Calvin Parker. It’s urgent.”

  “Can I ask what this is regarding?”

  “This is Viola Bellerose, Aiden Faux’s girlfriend,” she said, and her voice shook slightly. “He’ll know what it’s about.”

  While she waited for the call to connect to its intended recipient, Viola used the time to calm her breathing and inject steel into her voice. Calvin had never been able to lie to her, which is why she’d always called him first. Plus, she’d learned a long time ago that it paid to know people who knew things.

  “This is Calvin.” His voice sounded wary, like he was bracing himself. It almost told Viola everything she needed to know, but she had to be sure.

  “Calvin,” she said, speaking very slowly and carefully so she didn’t miss a word. “I need you to answer one question. If you lie, I will sue you for everything you have. When was the last time we spoke?”

  “Viola, honey,” Calvin hedged. She could almost hear him debating between loyalty to his client and the future of the company he’d worked so hard to build. Viola closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall, knowing that in the end, self-interest would win out.

  It always did.

  “It was the night of your accident,” he finally said, exhaling loudly. “You called me to ask where Aiden was. After he texted you that he wasn’t going to make it. Do you remember?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But humor me. I want to hear it again, in your words.”

  “Alright, Jesus. You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? I still don’t know how you two managed to—you know what? Never mind. All I said was, Aiden was breaking things off. He wanted to focus on his music, on his tour. And he didn’t think you would be able to handle the tour lifestyle. You got upset—understandably, if you want my opinion—and you wanted to talk to Aiden. I told you he was at the hotel, and you hung up on me.”

  “Thank you, Calvin,” Viola said. “That’s all I needed to know.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, more quietly. “I know I said this before, but…he should’ve had the courage to tell you himself.”

  “No,” Viola said, shaking her head. “He was right to be afraid of me. By the way, the next time you talk to him, please tell him I said he can go on tour by
himself.”

  With that, she hung up.

  If that part was true, maybe it was all true.

  Feeling all the fight go out of her suddenly, Viola leaned against the wall until she had the strength to move back to the bed. Halfway there, she stopped and dropped into the chair.

  She couldn’t afford to fall asleep again. Not today, not when Uncle Jack was coming to see her any minute. She needed to plan, needed to figure out a way to prove what had happened to her wasn’t just an accident.

  Why else would she keep seeing Jack where he didn’t belong? At the bar. In the car with them. Watching her drown, holding her mother’s severed head as he nonchalantly stroked her blonde curls. Oh, God. What if, after Jack tried to kill her, he’d succeeded in killing her parents?

  The family business. Nothing more important than family. She’d seen the will, years ago. If her father died, everything went to her mother. If both of her parents died, everything went to Viola. But why kill her first? Why not wait and get them all together? No. It didn’t make sense. Maybe her accident really had just been an accident. She was drunk, and upset. But her parents, her careful father, her overly-cautious mother…their sudden passing was just too strange.

  That was what her subconscious had been trying to tell her, she realized. Over and over, it kept showing Uncle Jack in the passenger seat of a car that was about to crash. A long time ago, Uncle Jack had told her he used to be a mechanic, before Viola’s grandfather had hired him. He must’ve done something to her parents’ car, to make it crash. Sam had been right, when he’d said that it was like lightning striking the same family twice. It was too much of a coincidence. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

  Because, just like with Aiden and his lies, there was some part of her that hadn’t wanted to see it. Some part of her had wanted to feel safe, and protected. But she wasn’t safe. And she wasn’t protected. Not from him.

  As if her knowledge of his treachery had summoned him, the door opened and Uncle Jack—no longer her Uncle Jack, but the murderer Jacques Gosselin—walked into the room. Viola knew it was him, even before the door opened. He was the only one who didn’t bother to knock first.