by Lannah Smith
He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "I definitely wasn't thinking you would. Though I wouldn't put it past you."
Terry fell silent and looked out the windows. John did the same, happy the windows were tinted and no one could see in. There were still a lot of people in the parking lot since it hadn't been ten minutes since the school bell rang.
"By the way, did you see my brother at dinner?" she asked him in a strained voice.
He nodded as he put the cup between his legs.
"Did you talk?"
He looked at her, at the worry on her face.
Then he said, "That's between us, baby."
Frustration set on her face, she snatched her cup from him. But the sudden action and her too tight grip caused the lid to open and hot coffee spilled on her palm.
"Shit, Terry." John grabbed the cup and set it on the dash. He took a hold of her hand and tried to dab at the spill with some tissues he found in her car. "Shit."
"I'm - I'm alright," she said, wincing in pain.
But there were angry red marks on her hand and he knew she was far from alright. He blew on the marks, trying to cool the skin.
"Do you have some aloe or something in that bigass purse of yours?" he started to panic. "Should we go to the infirmary?"
"It's seriously not that bad, John," she said, sounding amused. Why the hell was she amused? "It's just a little pain."
He ignored her and kept blowing on her hand.
It took a minute before he noticed. The calloused white marks in her palm that he'd always been curious about he'd already seen but there was something else. Terry, tired and in pain, didn't notice right away. He had actually uncurled her fingers with his thumb and tipped her palm up the light. And the sight of them made his body grew completely still.
Instantly, Terry curled her hand in a fist and jerked her hand away.
But he'd seen them.
He'd fucking seen them.
Fresh, fucking nail-shaped cuts in her palm.
John's expression of utter disbelief cut through me like a jagged knife.
A paralyzing poison of fear and panic filled me up, working up my throat.
John grabbed my wrist again, his thumb working to get my fingers to open my fist. I resisted, trying not to cry. But I couldn't help but let out a muted whimper when he grazed the burn on my hand.
He stopped. But he didn't let go.
"John—" I started but then his eyes went to me and the words died in my throat.
"Those scars," he said raggedly. "You didn't have those five years ago."
My body jerked to the side, seeking escape, trying to get out of the car. But his body closed and he slammed the door back close and I had no hope of getting away. His other hand closed on my other wrist and he pulled both my fisted hands between us.
"Show me, Terry," he ordered.
I shook my head. "No."
"Show me."
"Please, just drop this."
His voice was an absolute, heartbreakingly, wretched ache when he whispered, "Please, show me."
Tears hit my eyes. "I... I don't want you to see how... how I've been so weak."
"You're not weak, Terry."
"I've always been weak." A tear fell down my cheek. Then another. "I just put up a front."
He groaned and dipped his head into my neck. "Fuck. Fuck. Is this the reason why you never let me hold your hands?"
I didn't say anything, just continued crying.
"Please tell me I didn't miss them when we were children?"
"I didn't have them," I whispered. "I started to..." I stopped, knowing this would devastate him. "After we stopped being friends."
He wrapped his arms tightly around my middle. He was silent and for a moment, fear threaded through me. Then his body started to shake. And I closed my eyes tight, thinking I was right.
This devastated him.
"They're my responsibility," he breathed, his voice tortured. "Because of me—"
"No," I sobbed. "This isn't because of you. You can't go on thinking-"
I stopped speaking when he lifted his head. "You wouldn't have these scars if I still stayed as your friend."
"John."
"You wouldn't!" he shouted. "If I was still with you I'd make sure you'll never have them. I'll keep Haru away from you. I'll keep your own mother from you. Fuck, I'll even keep your father away from you."
"I can't have you thinking—"
"No."
"It's not because of you!" I screamed. "It's because of me. I'm weak. I'm an easy target. It's my fault my mother and brother hated me."
"No, it will never be your fault," he countered. "You were a child when your mother began to emotionally damage you. You were a child when Haru began to bully you. So don't you give them excuses."
Oh, my God.
If he knew that my mother not only emotionally damaged me but physically abused me, who'd know what he'd do?
I closed my eyes slowly in humiliation and defeat.
When I opened them, I told him, "You're attracted to the broken, John."
His eyes narrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Even when we were kids, you had this heroic sense, this need to help anyone who needed it. Even then, even when you were just an arrogant, little brat, you tried to fix the world. That's why you liked superheroes and comics."
I dropped my gaze to my hands. To my hideous hands.
"And I'm one of the broken, aren't I? You want to fix me. Just like your best friend, you want to fix me too."
"I don't want to fix you, Terry," he growled. "Don't turn my words around, Terry. Can't you understand? Will you never understand? I just want to be with you while you fix yourself."
I shook my head. I wanted to understand but I just didn't have the confidence.
"I've turned you away so many fucking times," he whispered brokenly. "I've let you go not once but twice. In some way, this is on me. Because I let you go. Because I didn't see what was happening to you. I hurt you too."
His hands withdrew from my waist and startled, I looked up.
"I couldn't help Leon. I couldn't help you. I tried so hard to do the right thing, but I still end fucking things up."
No. He was wrong.
He couldn't help it.
He had too much love in his heart to share.
And it was making him confused.
"I was too late to see it when things came crashing down for Leon," John continued to say. His eyes grew unfocused. His expression turned detached.
My tears continued to slide silently down my cheeks.
I was losing him.
"And I was too late for you too."
"John..." I reached out to him but he backed away.
Then he opened the door and went out of my car.
And possibly, my life.
Chapter 37
Five years ago, Terry at age twelve
The sound of her bedroom door opening distracted Terry from her book.
She sat up in bed, putting her book down. Her mother was hulking in the doorway and the sight of her made a chill run up her spine.
"O... Okaasan?" she whispered.
Face filled with rage, eyes crazed, her mother took a step toward her and the little girl knew that her mother wasn't here to greet her a happy birthday.
Not today, she thought with a whimper. Please not today.
Terry knew she needed to run.
But her mother was too fast. And there was nowhere else to run in the room.
"Okaasan," Terry repeated, tears in her whisper when her mother grabbed her hair.
But the mother was deaf to her daughter's cries and pleas. She dragged Terry by the hair down the bed and into the floor. With an enraged shriek, she reached down and gathered her shirt in one fist and used the other to slap the little girl's face.
Terry put her arms up in defense but it only served to anger her. After raining slaps on her face, the older woman began kicking her ribs.
Curled up
in a ball, Terry waited until her mother starts to tire. Her consciousness was fading and she cried for her father. And when the world finally faded around the edges, the last thing Terry saw was her mother's face, contorted and purple with rage before blackness finally found her.
When she came to, her mother was staring at her from across the room. Her face was worried, uncertain but when she saw that her daughter had awakened, she began to scramble towards her.
"We need to get rid of those bruises from your face," she whispered, pulling the child up and into the bathroom. "The party's tonight. You can't have bruises."
"Okaa-san—"
Her words were cut off when her mother suddenly threw her in the bathtub and into the freezing water. She gasped and tried to pull her head up but as soon as she did, her mother pushed her face back into the water.
"Hold still!" her mother snapped.
Her arms flailed around, trying to get her face back out. Her lungs screamed for air.
She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't breathe!
"Oniichan!" Terry screamed when she managed to get her head to surface. "Oniichan, help!"
◆◆◆
"Okay, what's it about this time?"
Wiping the tears from my eyes with the heels of my palms, I turned my head to look at Skull.
His jaw was hard, his eyes narrowed with anger as he drove my car. I stared at his profile for a long moment, wondering what he must have first thought when John called him to ask him to drive a sobbing girl home.
I looked at the dark road outside the window, my mind whirling in desperation to explain our situation. But in end, I just told him, "None of your business."
"Terry," he began with what sounded like extreme patience. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll hunt John's ass down and you really don't want to know what'll come next."
"It's not him. It's..." I hesitated, trying to find the words. "It's me. I'm the problem."
I heard him pull in a deep breath. "He sounded real messed up when he called me. So whatever problem it is, be it you or him or whatever, he cared enough to ask me to take you home. And he knows, Terry. He knows that I'll thrash him if he hurt you. And I'm thinking he hurt you."
I tore my eyes from him. "Leave him alone, Skull. I've just told him things... things that upset him. Please just leave him alone."
Skull shook his head at me. He didn't speak. Neither did I. And this lasted for awhile.
"Are you still going to my party?" he asked me then, breaking the silence.
I looked at him. "Of course. It's your birthday. I already have your present, by the way."
He turned eager eyes to me. "What is it?"
"Confectionary delights."
He grimaced. "More like confectionary deathtraps."
"I've improved, alright?" I grumbled. "I had Sophia teach me."
"Yeah, I think Sophia mentioned that. But she also mentioned you almost burned her kitchen down."
I chuckled and looked out the window. As the house came into view, I realized something and glanced at Skull.
"How will you get home?"
Skull tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Call a taxi, probably."
"You can borrow my car, if you like."
"No offense but I'd rather walk. I'm not going to be caught dead driving your girly car. This is just a one time thing."
"My car's not girly—."
My words died when I spotted a very familiar truck on the driveway of my house. My heart start beating faster and bile started climbing up my throat.
"Oh, my God," I breathed. "Oh, my God, John's here."
Skull's eyes sliced out the window and his gaze grew alert.
"Well, I think I know how I'll be getting home now," he mumbled.
Skull had barely parked my car before I threw the door open and was jumping out. I ran up the stairs, opened the door of my house but was immediately blocked by Kabakura and two of our guards before I could clear the door.
"Haru-sama requests that you go to your bedroom, young miss," he immediately told me in monotone.
My heart stopped beating faster and started slamming against my chest instead.
"Is John Steele here?" I asked sharply.
Kabakura nodded at Julie who was hovering behind them. "Please take her to her room."
"I asked a question," I said in a low, cold voice that made Kabakura look at me again, his expression registering surprise.
He stared at me. I glared back. He absorbed my glare and pressed his lips together into a tight line.
"He's with the young master in the library," he finally answered, giving me a short bow of his head. "But he asked not to be disturbed."
Or else.
I felt Skull's presence behind me and saw the displeased looks the other guards were giving him. I twisted my neck to look at him. Skull didn't seem at all intimidated by their aggression rather, he was grinning challengingly at them.
"Can I stay inside while John finishes his discussion with Evans?" he asked me, never taking his eyes off the guards.
I looked at Kabakura. "Of course," I said in a tone befitting that of a young miss in a wealthy household. "Kabakura-san, this is Christopher Lawrence, a friend of mine. He's to be treated as a guest."
"Yes, young miss," Kabakura answered, his eyes appraising Skull. "If you will follow me sir?"
Skull gave me a wink as he followed Kabakura to the drawing room and his presence soothed me a bit. Julie was waiting for me to come with her and with no choice, I shuffled along to my room. The guards tagged along with us, probably making sure I wouldn't make a run for the library.
"I want to be left alone, Julie," I told her as soon as I entered my bedroom.
Julie hesitated. "But Mr. Kabakura said not to leave you alone."
I gave her my most arctic look and she paled. Then, murmuring that she will get me some refreshments, she hurried out of the door. I heard the turn of the lock and I let out a groan, pressing my fingers on my temple, completely panic-stricken.
Why was John here?
And why did Haru even let him into our house?
Through the questions racing my head, I happened to glance outside my window and saw through the parted curtains the giant tree outside. A rush of relief went through me. The tree. I could get out and climb down the tree and possibly stop either John or Haru from committing murder.
I immediately went to the window and pried it open gently. There were no guards when I looked down. The library was on the other side of the house and I have to really be careful not to get caught. Without further wasting any more time, I climbed out on the ledge, grabbed on the branch and scaled down the tree quietly.
Landing with a soft thud on the grass, I peered into the drawing room. Skull was trying to touch the samurai swords on one of the displays and Kabakura was politely but firmly trying to thwart him. Fighting through the shrubs and carefully tiptoeing around the flowerbeds, I ran as fast as I could to opposite side of the house where the library was, trying to stay in the shadows and out of the light emitting from the post lights lining around the house.
When I arrived at the vicinity of the library, I was gasping and out of breath. The windows were mostly closed but one was open an inch. I reached out to open it a little further and put my hands on the ledge to climb inside but voices stopped me dead.
"She told you?" It was Haru who spoke. "Everything?"
"Yes, you bastard," came John's angry reply.
"Did she tell you? Or did you force it out of her?"
My entire body locked at the chill in Haru's voice.
"Don't turn this on me when you and your mother are the ones to blame."
I heard Haru's sharp bark of laughter before he asked, "And do you think your abandonment didn't do a thing to her?"
"I've already explained why I did what I did." John paused and my dazed brain imagined him taking a threatening step forward to Haru while Haru just sat on the sofa, looking unperturbed. "And I know. I fucking
know I'm partly the reason for her self-harming behavior and I'm taking responsible for it, Haru. I am. But what about you?"
"I told you. You know nothing."
"Then fucking enlighten me!" My body jerked back when a bang echoed inside the library. John must have punched a shelf. "Enlighten me while I can still keep myself from tearing you apart. Don't you know what you've done to your sister? She thinks herself weak. She thinks herself damaged. She thinks herself crazy just like her mother and it kills me to hear those words come out from her lips."
I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming. I stepped away from the windows in order to lean against the wall beside them so my shaking knees wouldn't fail me.
Why would he tell my brother this?
Why would John tell Haru this?
Haru wouldn't care. He'd never care. He'd just given my brother ammunition to continue controlling my life and he just told him everythi—.
"I left to protect her."
My thoughts came to a screeching halt.
"I returned to study in Japan instead because I knew I needed to take our mother away from her."
"What are you saying?" John sounded shocked.
Silence.
Then Haru finally spoke, "Ever since I could recall, she'd never showed Terry love or affection. And ever since I could recall, Terry would always have bruises up and down her body. But when I asked her, she'd tell me she fell or she bumped into places. At first I didn't believe her. She wasn't clumsy by all means. But soon she began to hide them from me and our father. And I'd forgot that I'd ever seen them."
