by Theresa Jane
"Feel better?" I asked mockingly, and he growled in my general direction before grabbing another slice of pizza and returning to the sofa.
"I want this sofa moved back," he stated firmly, and I looked at him expectantly. "This is my apartment, and I want it the way I like it. I don’t want paint on my walls, and I want everything in its original place."
I continued to stare at him emotionlessly, and it only made his frustrations increase.
"Are you done?" And in reply, he simply glared at the blank screen of the television.
"Good," I nodded. I heard him mutter something under his breath, and I knew it was something I didn’t want to hear. "Now let’s act like adults and decide what movie we want to watch."
* * *
"I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to watching movies on my Saturday night," Liam grumbled as the credits rolled. "With you," he emphasized, and I smirked from where I was curled up on the sofa.
"What do you want to watch now?" I asked, ignoring his comment. When he didn't reply, I glanced over to see him looking down at the bright screen of his phone. It was wedged between him and the arm of the sofa like he was trying to hide it from me.
"Liam?"
"What?" He jumped guiltily, and I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "Oh, I was thinking about just going to bed. I think I might be a little hung over still."
"Really?" I asked skeptically.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," he said, getting to his feet and walking toward his bedroom.
"You know I’m pretty tired too, I think I’ll go to bed as well." I couldn’t believe how naive he thought I was. I also couldn’t believe how obvious his smirk was.
"Well, goodnight Freya," and I shook my head at his poor acting skills. Thankfully he was famous for his singing.
"Night," I replied, and I didn’t miss him watching me close my door from the crack in his. Once it was closed, I quickly pressed my ear against the door to hear his muffled footsteps walking down the hallway. I flung my door open, glaring at him disapprovingly.
"Nice try, Liam," I deadpanned, and I heard him mutter a few curses under his breath. "You can’t leave anyway."
"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"I dead bolted the door."
"I have the key to my own apartment," he scoffed.
"Not anymore," I smirked, pulling out the key resting on the chain around my neck. Liam quickly pulled his keys out of his pocket and found that there was one missing.
"You stole it," he accused, looking down at his keys in shock.
"Lucinda said you can’t leave."
"No, she said to lie low. She never said a crazy woman was going to trap me inside the apartment."
"You don’t know how to lie low, Liam."
"Give me my key," he demanded, taking a few steps toward me. Just close enough that the alcohol on his breath could reach me. How many had he had? I couldn’t remember, was it four?
"No," I answered firmly, tucking it back under my shirt.
"I can’t believe you’re actually locking me inside my own apartment," he muttered, stuffing his keys back in his pocket.
"Believe it, rock star." This earned me a scathing glare before he huffed and turned back to his bedroom. I followed behind him and planted myself just outside his door. He looked back at me with frustration plaguing his eyes.
"Are you going to sit out here all night?" he asked, leaning against his doorframe and looking down where I now sat resolutely on the floor.
"You can’t be trusted."
"You’re insane," he grumbled, slamming the door in my face. I couldn't help but smirk slightly at his temper tantrum. There was no way Liam was getting past me tonight.
"Sweet dreams, Liam," I sang mockingly, and I heard him mutter a few choice words in reply. I smiled again and rested back against his door, settling in for a long night.
Chapter 13: Drive By
His breathing was heavy, and the weight of his alcohol-filled breath pressed down on me as I tried to lift his limp body.
"Come on, Dad," I groaned, struggling to lift him up the stairs.
"Where’s Mase?" he gurgled.
"Mase's at school, Dad," I explained. “He left last month.”
"Why aren’t you at school?"
"Because I need to be here for you," I muttered so he couldn’t hear me. We had finally reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
"Mary-Anne would want you at school," he murmured as I felt his body weight begin to sag. He would pass out soon.
Then suddenly the memory shifted and instead I was standing on the street beside my mother, staring down at her lifeless body. I was watching as my past self sat beside her, tears running down my face and blood coating my hands, her blood.
"Frey," I looked up suddenly at the sound of my brother’s voice and found him glaring at me. There was a familiar accusing fire lighting his eyes.
"Mase?"
"It should have been you," he growled. "They should have shot you in place of my mother."
"No,’"I whispered. "It wasn’t my fault, Mase."
"You took her away from me, Freya." Then he turned from me, walking away slowly. I tried to move my feet to chase after him, but they were stuck to the ground as if the cement had hardened around them.
I could hear the screech of car tires in the distance. I screamed for Mase not to leave me, but he soon disappeared. Leaving only me, alone. I felt trapped on the street, listening to my past self, sobbing over the woman that was no longer in my present.
The tires grew louder until I could see a speeding car heading toward me in the distance. I remembered it from that night. It was the same one that had fired the random shots at my mother, and it was coming back.
I tried desperately to move but my feet remained planted as the car approached. I watched as a hand snaked out of the car. A cold, black piece of metal clutched tightly in its grip. My heart beat wildly like it was trying to tell my feet what to do but nothing would make them move.
The car was getting closer and I felt the panicked fluttering in my chest increase until tears began to fall, again. It seemed to be the only release my body was able to achieve.
The car was seconds from me. Then, I heard the deafening noise ring out, and a scream ripped from the bottom of my chest and erupted from my throat-
I was still screaming when I sat bolt upright in my bed. My skin was clammy, and my heart was racing. I couldn’t focus on the dark room as my eyes darted around, looking for the same metallic object from my dream.
"Freya," I heard someone say gently beside me, and I almost screamed again as I jumped back from the hand that rested on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s just me.”
"Liam," I muttered, dragging a shaky hand through my damp hair. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard you scream and I figured it was too early for you to be showering." His smile was strained, and my shaky laugh wasn't much better. It was unsteady as it rattled out from my chest, but for a moment, the weight on my chest lifted before it quickly returned as my laughter evaporated in the darkness of the room.
"I’m not that bad," I grumbled, and I felt his eyes on me, watching carefully.
"Freya, what happened? Why were you so terrified?" he prodded.
"How did I get here?" I asked, eager to sidestep this line of questioning.
"I got up to get a glass of water, and I found you sleeping against my door." I barely made out the shrug of his shoulders in the darkness.
"So, you moved me?" He shrugged again before he sat down beside me on my bed. I knew from the look on his face there were questions running through his mind that I didn’t want to answer.
When he remained silent, I looked over at him tentatively and saw that he was only in a pair of boxers. His blond hair was tousled from sleep, and his bare chest was rising and falling at an erratic pace. When my gaze lifted to his face, I realized he had been watching me as I watched him, and I quickly ducked
my head as my cheeks flamed from being caught.
"Where are your parents, Freya?"
"Why do you care?" I bit back, and I waited for him to answer but he never spoke. I sighed heavily before I talked again, knowing in a battle of silence Liam would surely win.
"My father is back in L.A.," I said softly, twisting my hands in my lap, trying to stop my body from trembling. I could still hear the gunshot ring out, and I could almost feel the cooling blood slick on my hands as the final heartbeat left my mother's body.
"And your mother?" Liam prompted.
"She died," and I felt the familiar burn at the back of my throat, my eyes blinking frantically, refusing to let the past in. Liam didn’t say anything beside me. We both just sat there in silence with unsaid words circling between us, and I desperately tried to regain control.
"What was she like?" He finally asked, and I took several deep breaths before I could answer.
"Everyone said she looked just like me," I began, feeling my throat constrict as images of my mother flashed across my vision and blocked out the darkened room. “But they were wrong, she was beautiful, and the artwork she created was even more so.”
"She was an artist too?"
"She created things that made you feel as if you were inside her world. They weren’t just paintings, they were new realities," I answered, remembering my favorite piece she had created. It was so simple, just a bird flying high above the streets of L.A., but after she died, every time I looked at it, I felt as if I could fly. I believed I could have the wings of a bird and just fly away.
Every night my father came home, the devastation of his loss tainting his breath, I would look at that painting and imagine myself high above the skyline of L.A.
Sometimes, it felt as if the warm air was caressing my skin as I looked down at the world from above, but it was gone now too.
My father, in one of his rages, had torn it from the wall and broken it into pieces. He couldn’t stand to have any piece of her staring at him and reminding him that she wasn’t there anymore.
He regretted it the next morning, and I watched as he held the tattered remains in this bloodied hands. He didn’t even go to work that day, instead he headed straight for the cabinet that contained his sustenance, and I had watched as my father deteriorated further.
I was helpless, and all I wanted to do was stop him. I wanted him to be the father I had always known, but without my mother, he couldn’t be that man. No matter how hard I tried, there was nothing I could do to help him.
"How did it happen?" Liam asked, drawing me from my memories. Suddenly, I realized there were warm tears falling slowly from my burning eyes. I quickly tried to brush them aside, disgusted that I had allowed the past to creep into my present. It wouldn’t affect me now, it couldn’t.
"She was shot," I answered simply, working hard to keep my voice steady. I knew he was watching me, but I couldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t let him see my shameful tears.
"How?" he asked softly, and I let out a rattling breath as I suppressed not only the memories of that night but also the remnants of my dream.
"We were out walking one night. I had just had a fight with my father about my future. I needed some air, but she didn’t want me out alone. So, she insisted on coming with me." I answered bitterly. There were so many things about that night I wanted to change. "I heard tires screech and just as I turned to see what was happening, a shot rang out around the street and suddenly my mom wasn’t standing beside me anymore. She died instantly," I finished, clenching my hands together tightly and trying to stop them from shaking. The tears fell again and I was powerless to stop them. They began to soak through my shirt as I tucked my chin to my chest.
"Freya," I heard Liam whisper beside me, and then I was wrapped in an awkward side embrace as my tears continued to fall.
One of his strong arms was wrapped around my waist and his other brushed the hair from my face before he tucked me under his chin. He whispered soothing words in my hair, and I was too lost in the memories of my past to protest how inappropriate it was for him to be there, for me to share my secrets with him. It was the first time I had spoken about my mother’s death since it happened.
"She was murdered, Liam," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the tears still falling onto his bare chest.
"I know," he soothed, rubbing rhythmic cycles on my lower back as my body continued to shake.
"She was murdered," I repeated, realizing I had never admitted it before. "Those men in that car killed her and just drove away. No one ever had to answer for her death, no one ever needed to take responsibility for taking the life of my mother. They don’t need to live with her absence every day of their lives, they didn’t even know her name." I felt the anger begin to rise in me as I thought of the men who had ruined my life. They took everything from me that day, my mother’s life, my father, and even my brother. Mase never wanted to be around the house. He never came back for school vacations, and for months he wouldn’t even look at me. For a year after her death, he stayed as far away from what was left of our family as possible, until that night just before Christmas. Then he took me away, away from our father and from our past. I mistakenly thought geography could keep me from the pain.
For a long time, all Liam did was hold me, and I felt a myriad of conflicting thoughts run through my body and my mind. I knew I should send him away. I knew I shouldn’t have shared my past with him, yet I had.
It felt as if there was a dam in my mind, keeping all my memories safe, but there were too many. Now, they were starting to seep out through the cracks. Where before the dam had held strong, now it seemed to be faltering, weakening. I couldn’t tell him any more. I wouldn’t tell him anything else.
"Freya, why did you leave?" Liam asked, and I started to push away from him, rubbing at the remaining tears staining my cheeks. His arm stayed wrapped around my waist and I pushed at it until he reluctantly let me pull away. I climbed off the bed and moved to the bathroom as I felt Liam’s eyes burning into my back.
I walked to the sink and ignored my reflection before splashing my face and scrubbing at it with the towel. I thought I heard someone move behind me but when I looked back, it was just an empty doorway.
I returned to my room and looked at my empty bed before releasing a breath that hitched in my throat. His absence confused me and ignoring the conflicting thoughts in my mind, I slid into the already cooling covers, taking deep breaths to keep the tears hidden beneath the surface. I just wanted to give myself over to sleep, but the threat of my nightmares kept sleep out of my reach. All I could do was stare at the blank wall, waiting for the silence to numb my mind.
Chapter 14: The Maid Lives for a Day
I was lying on top of the kitchen bench, watching as the sun danced across the ceiling of the living room. A weariness had washed over me, and I couldn't bring myself to move.
I hadn’t slept, not since I had woken from my dream and Liam had left my room. I tried, but my mind was too busy to relax. Instead, I found myself walking aimlessly around the apartment, putting everything back in its right place. Not really sure why, but feeling the compulsion to do it.
My mind was racing, but I wasn’t thinking about my past or even the absence of my mother. I found myself thinking of the golden arms that had been wrapped around me. Why had he done it, and why had he left?
I was startled from my thoughts when I heard a door open down the corridor and I knew he was finally awake. I waited for a few beats, and then I heard the slamming of a door and objects being turned over.
"Freya?" I heard Liam call out, and I sat up on the bench in alarm. Suddenly, he appeared in the living room and ran straight for the front door. I heard him shout my name again. Then, moments later, something slammed against the door, and his footsteps started to come back down the hallway.
I watched as he shuffled back into the room and sat on the sofa without looking up from the floor. He slumped down in the cush
ions and rested his head in his hands. The muscles in his back were tense as the sun glistened off his golden skin. All that could be heard around the apartment was his heavy breathing. When I finally shook off my confusion, my curiosity took over.
"Liam?" I asked cautiously. "What’s wrong?"
"Freya?" he said, startled, as he jumped up from the sofa and looked over at me.
"What?"
"You’re still here," he stated in surprise before crossing the room to where I sat on the kitchen bench.
"Where else would I be?" I frowned.
"I thought you left. Your room…it was clean," he answered distractedly, looking down the hallway that led to our rooms.
"I couldn’t sleep."
"You put everything back?"
"Why did you think I would leave?" I questioned, ignoring his.
"I thought that after last night…I don’t know," he sighed, running his hand through his already sleep-tousled hair.
"I didn’t mean to worry you," I offered with a small shrug of my shoulders. "I didn’t know my cleaning would be so distressing for you." He didn’t have time to answer before there was a pounding on the front door, and Liam looked at me in confusion.
"Stay here," he ordered, and I raised my eyebrows challengingly at his back.
Ignoring him, I slid off the bench and quickly followed after him. I was curious to see who was at the door and also knowing that Liam couldn’t open it without me.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he had the same realization before he looked back to call for me. I stopped close behind him, a smug smile on my face, as I dangled the key from the chain around my neck.
"Didn’t really think that one through, did you?" I mocked, stepping around him and unlocking the door.
"I told you to stay there," he scolded.
“If I had, you wouldn’t be able to unlock the door, and since when have I ever taken orders from you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I heard him groan before he pulled the door open to reveal Ant and Ryan standing impatiently outside.
