by Theresa Jane
“He can’t hurt you, Freya, I promise he will not hurt you.” I nodded, numbly, before closing my eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. When I opened them again, the darkness started to recede. The station came back into focus, and I kept my eyes on Mase.
“You’re okay,” Mason kept saying, pulling me in and wrapping me in his familiar warmth, but there was something different. He felt different, something about him had changed.
I opened my eyes again in confusion, only to be met by the eyes that frequently haunted my sleeping hours.
“No,” I breathed, pushing back on Mason in an attempt to put distance between myself and my nightmares.
“Frey,” I heard his deep voice say, and my body fell limp.
“Dad,” Mason scolded, casting an angry look over his shoulder. “Maybe you should wait in the reception area.”
“Mase-” he started, but my brother was quick to silence him with a glare. I watched as resignation flashed through his eyes before they met mine again with a mixture of hurt and regret.
I watched apprehensively as he nodded his head reluctantly. He turned from us and headed back out the way they had come. When I was certain he was gone, I turned back to Mason, unable to hide my confused expression.
“Mason, what’s going on?”
“We can talk about Dad later,” he promised, releasing my shoulders and pushing all the hair back from my face and just looking at me.
“Mason?”
“God, I’m so sorry, Freya,” he breathed before he pulled me in for another tight embrace. Suddenly, I realized what was missing. I jerked back looking at my brother, really looking at him.
His eyes were bloodshot and tired, but they were clear. I noticed he was wearing baggy clothes, a stark contrast to his usual crisp suit he wore. The hand that now held mine was trembling slightly. Most importantly, for the first time since I can remember, he didn’t smell like his favorite vice.
“I should have been there, Freya; I’m so sorry.”
“Mase-”
“I can’t believe I let this happen. He was right; you were right. I get it now, Freya. I’m getting help,” he paused for a moment, his eyes locking on mine meaningfully. “We both are,” he finished softly, and I felt my forehead crease. What was he saying?
“We want to be there for you, Freya. In any way you’ll have us. We just…we just want to make up for all the years we abused and neglected you."
“Mase, I don’t-”
“I know it’s a lot to take in and you don’t need to take my word for it.” Suddenly, desperately, he pulled a chip out of his pocket and thrust it into my hands, watching me intently. Pulling my eyes away from my brother, I looked down at what he had handed me, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Mase,” I breathed, my hand coming to my mouth in shock. I never thought he could do this. I had hoped, but it had long ago become nothing but a fruitless fantasy in my mind.
“I’m one month sober, Freya, and I plan to stay that way. I know it’s going to be hard, and I’m going to fall, but I want you to know that I’m trying. I don’t expect you to be there after everything I have put you through but…I’m trying. I want to be your big brother again."
“Oh Mase," I gasped, throwing myself into his arms, clutching the little chip tightly in my hand.
“I love you, Freya,” he whispered, his arms wrapping tightly around me as tears slipped from my eyes. I felt relief rush out of me like I had been hit by a freight train. It felt like the first time in forever I could take a breath without the worry of my brother being lost somewhere in the misery of his thoughts. In his eyes, I had seen a glimpse of the man I had known before we had lost my mother.
“Miss Coleman.” Hearing my name, I looked away from my brother to find an officer looking at me expectantly.
“Yes?”
“We have apprehended a suspect who is believed to be linked to the man who attacked you tonight,” he explained, eyeing my brother before looking back at me. I felt Mase stiffen beside me, and I reached for his hand and held on tightly.
“This is my brother,” I explained, and the officer nodded before continuing.
“It is suspected that the man was hired to follow you and act like a stalker of sorts. There is believed to be a third party involved, who provided information on your whereabouts at all times. His name has also been determined, and officers have been sent out to apprehend him.”
“How long?”
“The man in question has been monitoring you for several months now. A thorough search of the man’s apartment has revealed extensive evidence of surveillance since the end of October. We believe that it intensified after your…relationship with Liam Henderson became heavily publicized.
“His previous girlfriend, Jazelle Ericson, hired the man in question and was able to gather information about you from a close friend to Mr. Henderson." He flicked through the notes in his hand before he spoke again. "A Jebediah Wright is believed to be the informant. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Yes,” I croaked, his cunning smile flashing across my vision. “He’s one of Liam’s band members.”
“Although at this point, with the evidence gathered so far, it may be difficult to convict both Ms. Ericson and Mr. Wright of intimidation and stalking. After analyzing phone records and messages exchanged between the pair, we may be able to put them away. It all depends on how you would like to proceed. If you wish to press charges or not."
“She will be pressing charges,” my brother cut across forcibly, and I looked up at him to see he had easily slipped into lawyer mode.
“Of course,” the officer nodded before returning his attention back to me. “Has either of the two suspects ever approached you personally and caused you to feel intimidated or as if your life was in danger?”
“No…well,” I remembered back to the night Jebediah had attacked me at Liam’s apartment. “Jebediah, at a party once. He was drunk, and he was making unwanted advances. I tried to get away by locking myself in a bathroom. He tried to break the door down to get to me.” I felt Mason's eyes boring into me, but I refused to look at him.
“Can anyone corroborate this?” The officer asked.
“My boyfriend, he was the one who stopped him from breaking the door down.”
“Why didn’t you report it when it happened?”
“It never crossed my mind,” I shrugged, and finally I glanced up at Mase to find a regretful look on his face.
“What about Ms. Ericson, has she ever made you fear for your life or intimidated you in any way?”
“I never had much contact with her. I only met her once,” I answered.
“Thank you, Miss Coleman,” the officer nodded. “At the moment, we will process the suspects and gather as much evidence as we can. We may have further questions for you before a formal charge is made. I will lodge your desire to have both suspects charged with intimidation and stalking, but as of now, you are free to go.” I nodded as he handed me several pamphlets for victim support as he spoke legal procedures with my brother.
I tuned out, glancing at the entrance of the police station. I frowned before I scanned the room and found Harri standing with Marc, discussing something. As if she could feel my eyes on her, she looked up and read the question in my eyes. She shook her head sadly, looking down at her phone uselessly.
“Freya,” Mason prompted, and I was quickly brought back to the present as I glanced back up at my brother. “Why don’t we get you home? You can get some rest?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, feeling the weight of the night finally start to catch up with me. Curling up and sleeping for eternity sounded like a good plan.
“Come on, then,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and lending me his strength. He led me through the station until we reached the reception area.
I froze when I saw my father, his eyes quickly meeting mine. He shot up from where he was sitting in one of the pla
stic waiting chairs but didn’t attempt to cross the distance between us.
“Freya,” Mason started, stepping in front of me and blocking my father from view. “He’s different now. He’s changed. I know it’s a lot to ask after everything we have both put you through, and now all this.”
“Mase, I don’t want to deal with this,” I answered, feeling panic start to rise in my chest.
“I’m not asking you to forgive him right now. I’m asking you not to send him away before you have heard him out,” he pleaded. “He helped me a lot, Freya,” he added quietly, but I remained silent, my mind in turmoil as memories flooded it.
Good memories coalesced with bad until everything was just a jumbled mess. My mind rebelled and my body locked. How could I ever allow this man anywhere near my life ever again, in any capacity?
“Just think about it, Freya," Mason sighed, stepping to my side and wrapping his arm around my waist again. My eyes immediately locked with my father’s. He was watching me closely but offering nothing else from his expression. I imagined it was the same guarded expression he would find on my face.
“Come on,” Mason prompted, leading me out, and I knew our father was following closely behind us.
We were just about to leave the station when someone slammed the doors open and stormed in.
Mason quickly shoved me behind him protectively, but I could still hear his voice.
“Where is she?” he demanded, and I watched as he ran up to the receptionist, who didn’t even flinch. I imagine there was very little she hadn’t seen in her life. Her eyes didn’t even widen when she looked up from her computer to find a frantic rock star at her desk.
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to calm down,” she began with patience that would make a saint jealous.
“No, where is she? Freya?” he called, walking toward the doors that led to the detective offices.
“Sir, you aren’t allowed back there,” she said firmly, getting to her feet as two other officers appeared.
“I will go wherever I have to,” he shot back, pulling on the locked doors. “Freya!”
“Come on,” Mason prompted, trying to get me to turn around and leave. However, we weren’t done with the dramatic entrances. As soon as we turned back to the door, it slammed open again to reveal a struggling Jebediah in two officers’ arms.
“You can’t prove shit,” he growled.
“You bastard,” Liam shouted from behind us, and I whipped around to see Liam charging toward him. The two officers followed closely behind him. He didn’t even notice me.
The two officers managed to get a hold of Liam before he could even reach Jeb. Jebediah's eyes quickly darted from Liam to me, and I felt my skin start to crawl.
“Hey sweetheart,” he smirked, taking a break from trying to get out of the officers’ hold.
“Don’t you speak to her,” Liam yelled, finally noticing my presence. He tried to pull hard at the officers’ arms that bound him, but they refused to yield. “Don’t you dare speak to her.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Jebediah replied, but his smirk remained firmly in place despite him being led away in handcuffs. “But don’t pretend you care about her.” I watched as Liam’s anger flared, almost growling at Jebediah's back.
“What is going on out here?” I heard a familiar voice demand, and I looked over to find Marc striding over, Harri following closely behind him.
“Freya, please,” Liam begged, pulling my attention back to him.
“Liam man, you need to calm down,” Marc reasoned, but he wasn’t listening. His focus was locked on me. I glanced back at Marc and saw him nod at the two officers holding Liam.
As soon as Liam was free of their hold, he rushed over to me, grabbing my shoulders and looking me over.
“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” I felt my nose wrinkle, his body surrounded by an aura of alcohol fumes.
“I’m fine,” I answered flatly, distinctly aware of my brother’s arm pressing me to move away.
“I’m so sorry, Freya. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have sent him packing after last time.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I shrugged, looking away from him and out into the parking lot.
“Freya, I’m sorry, please,” he begged, but I was tired of everything.
“I hope you didn’t drive here,” was all I could say. He was in no fit state to be driving. Whatever had happened here may have sobered him, but I knew there was far too much in his system for him to be safe. He should have known better.
“Daryl’s outside,” he muttered, guilt flushing the color from his cheeks. I nodded silently, turning my back on him and walking for the door.
“She’s done with you,” I heard my brother warn, and I glanced back to see a defeated look on his face before I pushed on the door.
“Freya,” I heard him call, but I refused to go back there.
“Where the hell have you been?” I heard Harri demand, but I was already far enough away that the rest of the conversation was drowned out before the door even closed.
Immediately, I was assaulted with photographers and reporters. I didn’t even know where they had come from. I could have sworn only moments before there had been no one outside, but now it was swarming with men and women with cameras and microphones. I couldn’t help but think that even the paparazzi was here before Liam was.
Mason quickly flanked me on one side, my father on the other, but he made sure to leave a noticeable distance between us. Enough that he could stop the paparazzi from getting to me but not close enough to ever accidentally touch me.
They both hurried me back to the car as a surreal sensation washed over me. I hadn’t felt this protected in a long time. I hadn’t felt like a daughter or a sister but with them both beside me, watching out for me, I couldn’t help but slip back into the familiar role.
They hurried me into the car and within no time, we were out of the police car park.
* * *
The car ride back to my brother’s place was silent and thick with tension. My father sat in the back seat, his presence overwhelming after being so long without it. I could almost feel his anticipation brush against my skin. He wanted to speak, to ask questions, to plead his case just like he had been doing his entire life. I could sense him constructing an argument. He was a lawyer who did his job well, he always had. It was being a father that hadn’t come easily to him.
The sun was rising over the city when we finally made it back to Mason's apartment. My eyes were heavy and my mind was numb. Every thought was empty, and every emotion was muted. I couldn’t process anything anymore. My body ached from when the man had attacked me. Weariness was settling over my body that wore me down to my very bones.
Once inside my brother’s place, I walked straight into his room without a word to either my father or Mason.
Turning on his shower, I ignored my reflection before slipping beneath the scalding water. All I wanted to do was burn away the memories of the night before. Until I couldn’t feel his hands against me anymore, until their eyes no longer left marks on my skin.
When the water finally ran cold, I climbed out. I stood there for a moment, wrapped tightly in my towel. trying to catch my breath.
Slipping one of Mason's shirts on, I buried myself beneath the covers of his bed and closed my eyes. I was content to let the world spin as I disappeared into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 42: Stitches
When I awoke, I heard the voices of my father and brother coming from outside the room, and all I wanted to do was fall back into oblivion. I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky. Instead, I pushed myself off my brother’s bed and threw his robe on before entering the other room.
Seeing my father sitting at the kitchen bench, I instinctively felt my body tense before I convinced myself that it wasn’t the same man as three years ago. It wasn’t the man who had tried to drown the memories of his wife with a bottle. Hi
s eyes were clear and his demeanor was apprehensive. My mind tried to fight it, but watching him sit there across from my brother, his expression almost suggested he was…nervous.
I had never seen my father this way before, and it had my mind struggling for a response. I remained guarded, but nothing about him suggested immediate danger. Not like before.
“Hi,” he spoke awkwardly, the silence strangling the oxygen in the room. I stood by the entrance to the hallway, apprehensive to move any closer.
“Hi,” I replied in a voice rough with sleep. From the state of both my brother and my father, it was obvious they hadn’t slept. Their clothes were still rumpled from when they picked me up, and their eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. It was a vision I was familiar with, but for once, the stench of scotch didn’t permeate the air, only the thick scent of coffee.
Each had a steaming cup of coffee forgotten beside them as they watched me closely.
“You’ve grown up so much, Frey,” my dad started softly, and I couldn’t stop the frown that spread across my face. Anger began to simmer beneath my skin as I regarded him.
Years of resentment pushed to the surface, fear forgotten as if it was trapped in my past. I would not fear him, not now and certainly not after everything I had already been through. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. I refused to keep letting people hurt me.
“Why are you here, Dad?” I asked stiffly, my eyes burning into his as he sighed.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he began, and my eyebrows rose challengingly. “There are some things I would like you to know.”
“And if I choose not to talk to you?”
“That is your choice. I have no power over you. You are my daughter, and you always will be, but I haven’t been your father…not for some years now and for that, I will always hate myself. I missed out on so much, even before your mother died.” He cast his eyes downward, his shoulders slumping even further.
I couldn’t seem to stop the images from my past filling my head with memories and my heart with hope. He was my father. He was the man who carried me on his shoulders when I couldn’t see, who stayed up late with me reading because I was too terrified of a thunderstorm to fall asleep. He was the man who helped me with my math homework when I felt like throwing it through my bedroom window.
