Maren picked up her pen again and started scribbling more music notes in her notebook. “It sounds like you had every reason to be glad she was gone. What a horrible person.”
I nodded, glad that she agreed with me. “What about you? Tell me your stories,” I prompted her.
Maren laughed slightly and looked bashful. “There’s nothing much to tell. I don’t have anything interesting to share.”
I reached out and took her hand again, not caring that it made me look desperate and weak. Because with Maren I was all of those things and all I could do was embrace it.
“I don’t believe that for a minute, Maren. I bet you’ve experienced all sorts of interesting things.”
Maren shrugged. “Well, what do you want to know?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Everything.”
Maren’s eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a long time. Neither of us saying a thing. I feared that she wouldn’t tell me anything. That I’d given her my secrets and I’d get nothing in return.
But then she gave me pieces and I was overjoyed.
“My mom died when I was little. I don’t really remember her. My dad moves around a lot for work so I’ve always had to make new friends. I actually really suck at meeting people. I feel all awkward and weird.”
“You? Awkward? Are you nuts? Have you met me?” I joked.
“Stop it, Nora. I hate it when you do that, make yourself sound bad.” I beamed at her censure.
“I almost didn’t come to Blackfield. I was . . . uh . . . seeing someone back in Dallas and he wanted me to stay. I thought about it.” She looked away from me and I felt the burn of jealousy.
I still held Maren’s hand in mine and I could feel her fluttering pulse beneath my thumb.
“We broke up though. It wasn’t pretty. So I came here with Dad. I didn’t want to stay there after that.”
I felt a wave of relief.
“Oh, well, that’s good.” I grinned at her. Maren gave me a strange look.
“It’s good that I had a messy breakup and moved back in with my father to escape it?” she asked, sounding bitter.
No!” I backtracked, feeling like a moron. “I just meant that it’s good you’re here. Otherwise we would never have met.”
Maren relaxed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good thing,” she agreed.
It was good.
“Tell me about Bradley. What’s his deal?” she asked out of the blue and I bristled at the question.
“Why are you so interested in Bradley?” I couldn’t help but sound irritated. Because I was.
“He’s an enigma. A puzzle. I like puzzles,” Maren mused. “One minute, he’s so angry. The next, he seems almost sad. Like something horrible has happened to him.”
I gritted my teeth together to stop myself from screaming. “We all have horrible things that happen to us,” I countered.
Maren nodded. “You’re right. But Bradley’s a tormented dude. I can feel it.”
My Bradley!
He was mine!
“I don’t think he’d want me to tell you anything,” I quipped sharply.
Maren looked contrite. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have asked you that. You’re friends. Of course it wouldn’t be right to talk about him behind his back.” She sighed. “I’m just a sucker for a lost cause.”
What about me? I raged inside.
I’m lost too!
But I wouldn’t say that out loud. I’d sound even more pathetic than I already did.
“I shouldn’t have teased him the other day. I knew he was upset about us being together, so I messed with him. It wasn’t very nice. I feel like an ass.”
She stared down at the notebook in her lap, and I felt tense all over, as though she were getting ready to deliver a blow.
“But I’d like to get to know him. Do you think he’d let me?”
What was this? Was Maren serious? I felt horrible and sick and upset.
I didn’t know what to say.
I felt a flash of unreasonable hatred. Towards Bradley for being broken. Towards Maren for caring about his brokenness. Towards myself for giving my heart away to someone who seemed ready to crush it.
“I don’t know,” I muttered, full of so much hate.
Maren must have heard the strange note in my voice. She looked up at me seeming concerned. “But right now, I’d rather spend my time with you, Nora.” She smiled and it erased everything. All the bad stuff. And I felt . . . full.
“I’d like to spend time with you, too,” I told her. Did she hear the love in my voice? Did she see the passion in my eyes? Did she realize how much I wanted her?
Maren plucked a piece of hair from my shoulder and I swore her hand lingered.
I moved a little closer. I wouldn’t think about Bradley. Not here. Not with her.
“Okay, enough with the heavy stuff, why don’t we work on the song. Can you sing? Your words are so much better than mine. I could listen to you sing all day long,” Maren said, making me glow with her compliments.
She had a magical way of turning everything around. Of making me happy without really trying.
So I sang and sang.
Just for her.
The Past
Two And A Half Months Ago
“Dear Heavenly Father, take this child into your arms. Bless her with your love. Show compassion to her struggling mother, who tries to find a way to love such an abomination. Heal this child and this family. Purge the evil from Nora Gilbert and wash away her sin. Cleanse her soul so that it is reflected on her skin.”
The bite of the cane cut me open.
Over and over.
I kept my head bowed. I took the beating. I pretended to pray. But I wasn’t. It was my silent act of defiance.
“You must be purged of your sin. To purge the sin, you must feel the pain of Christ’s sacrifice,” Reverend Miller droned on and on.
I had to purge my sin. I had to feel Christ’s pain.
All so Mother would have a pretty, pretty daughter.
“Purge your sin, Nora,” Rosie taunted from her spot beside Mother.
I didn’t cry out when the cane connected with raw flesh.
“Are you praying, Nora? Are you asking for forgiveness?” Reverend asked, hitting me harder. If I looked up, I knew that I’d see his smile. He enjoyed this. He liked to watch me bleed.
I could feel his sadism.
“What am I asking forgiveness for?” I dared to ask. I shocked myself. I shocked Reverend Miller. He paused, the cane poised over my broken, bleeding back.
I glanced up, my hair hiding me. Reverend Miller seemed bothered that I had spoken. His face was flushed, his lips parted. His overeager desire obvious by the bulge in his pants.
His hand trembled. Mother was horrified by my disobedience. “Shut up, Nora! You’re supposed to be praying!” she scolded.
Rosie smirked. “You have to purge your sin, Nora. That’s why you’re here.”
I wished Reverend Miller would turn his cane on her. I imagined Rosie sprawled out on the floor, her exposed back cut open and ravaged.
“Your sins are the worst of all, Rosie. They’re the ones hidden by a beautiful face. It’s the rot that festers on the inside.”
Our eyes met and Rosie’s eyes narrowed as though she were able to read my mind.
Oh the things I wished I could do to her.
“You’re asking forgiveness for your wickedness. You’re cleansing your soul,” Reverend Miller explained, his hand still shaking. The cane still ready to strike.
My body hummed, anticipating the moment when he’d hit me again. Ready and waiting.
“Then cleanse my soul, Reverend,” I responded acidly.
Where was this coming from? Rosie snickered but I ignored her.
“Perhaps, Leslie, it’s time you dealt the penance,” Reverend Miller suggested.
“Me?” Mother asked, rising to her feet. Her face was light, so light, as though offered the sun.
&nb
sp; Reverend Miller held out the cane. “Yes. You have to atone for your own sins as well. Administer the cane. Pray for forgiveness.”
Mother reached for the cane, her hands trembling. I began to shake as well. Tears fell and I couldn’t stop them.
“No,” I breathed, barely able to find my voice.
Not Mother.
Not this!
Mother came and stood behind me, looking down at my battered, bleeding back, a strangely tender expression on her face.
“Please,” I mouthed.
Don’t do it.
I won’t survive it.
Her voice rose like a chant while Rosie grinned in the corner, enjoying every moment of this new depraved form of abuse.
Mother’s hand wielding my torment destroyed me in a way I hadn’t expected.
It was so much worse than everything that had come before it.
So much worse.
“Heavenly Father, take this child into your arms. Bless her. Bless me. Show me compassion as I try to find salvation. As I attempt to lead this abomination towards your holy light. Purge the evil from her body. Purge this sin from my soul.”
And then she hit me.
She hit me, and she hit me some more.
Over and over again.
I sobbed with every strike. I had never cried before. All the while Reverend Miller had abused my body, I had maintained my crumbled pride.
No this time.
Not with Mother’s hand wielding the pain.
I absorbed the agony, hating my mother the entire time. Hating this sad, sadistic woman who had been my entire world because I had been given no other choice.
And I detested the beautiful woman with the blue eyes who watched from the other side of the room, enjoying the blood. Loving my humiliation.
“You must be purged of your sin. To purge the sin, you must feel the pain of Christ’s sacrifice,” Mother chanted, Rosie joining her.
“I must be purged of my sin,” I muttered under my breath.
Purge the sin . . .
Feel the pain . . .
You deserve it all . . .
I was driving Mother’s car home. I could barely sit up straight. I felt a disgust and loathing for the woman beside me that I had never experienced before.
I turned the car onto the familiar road.
No.
This wasn’t right.
My vision cleared and the scenario changed.
Yes. This was right.
Rosie was driving us home. I was huddled in the backseat trying to ignore the throbbing in my back.
A sharp pain in my head stole my breath.
I put the car into reverse, pulling out of the car park. Mother stared out the window, refusing to look at me. I made sure not to rest my back against the seat.
I rubbed my eyes and stared out the window. My head hurt. It felt fuzzy and full, and I was having a hard time concentrating.
“How dare you interrupt the prayer session tonight, Nora!” Mother hissed, her words like a slap. “This is all for you, you ungrateful woman.”
I wanted to laugh. The weekly torture was for me? Did she really think that?
Lies and delusions.
She had lost sight of the truth a long time ago.
“It hurts, Mother. Please don’t make me go there again,” I begged her, my slurred speech harder to understand because I was upset. I clung to her hand as she dragged me from the house towards the car. I thought about crying but knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere. Mother wasn’t bothered by the emotional wellbeing of her ten-year-old daughter.
She wasn’t thinking about me at all.
Mother pulled her hand free and shoved me into the passenger seat, refusing to look at me. Her lip curled in disgust. “If I’m forced to endure you, I have to do something that makes it more bearable.”
Having me beaten made me more bearable? I froze inside at her hateful words.
“You have to be cleansed of your sin,” Mother lectured.
“What sin have I committed?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t. But Mother didn’t smack me as I expected her to. She continued to drive towards the church.
“You were born,” was all she said and I wished she had ignored me. I’d rather be invisible.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” was all I said, wishing I could summon the courage to say so much more.
Rosie snorted. “Leslie’s right. You should be grateful. She’s trying to help you.” She didn’t mean that. I could tell that she didn’t believe any of it.
“You’re right, Rosie. Such a smart girl. She sees it, Nora. Why don’t you?” Mother fixed her hair and straightened her skirt. Always perfect. Always lovely to look at.
My head hurt almost as much as my back.
Turning down the street that led to the house, I wished Mother would stop talking. I was tired of hearing her speak. It would be so easy to run the car into a tree. To end things for the both of us.
“Nora! Did you hear anything I said?” Mother demanded. I blinked my eyes, clearing my suddenly blurry vision.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I remarked, contrite. Submissive. It was the only way to subdue my mother’s ire.
“Maybe she should stay in her room tonight, Leslie. Make her think about how awful she was,” Rosie suggested. She flicked her long hair over her shoulder, and I wished she were as ugly as I was. It was only fair.
Mother nodded, agreeing with Rosie. “I don’t want to see you until tomorrow, Nora.”
When we got home, I watched as Mother and Rosie went into the kitchen to make coffee. They had forgotten about me. Pretended I wasn’t there.
It was just as well.
I went to my room, my prison, and waited.
For the best part.
My favorite part.
The only thing that would make it better.
I looked out the window towards the Somers’ house and smiled.
I just hoped I wouldn’t be disappointed yet again.
“Nora! Oh my god! What happened to you?”
I must have drifted off to sleep as I waited for Bradley to show up.
I couldn’t roll over, so my back was exposed. I looked behind me to see Maren standing near my window, her hand over her mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped, sitting up as quickly as I was able to, holding the blanket up over my chest.
Maren ignored my question and rushed over to me, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. “You’re bleeding! Tell me now what happened!” She took me by the shoulders and turned me around so she could get a better look at my oozing wounds.
I was embarrassed having her here. Why was she here? Where was Bradley?
I wanted to cry. I never wanted her to see me like this. I was too exposed. For the first time I recoiled from her touch.
“Please, don’t—”
I felt her cold, soft fingers gingerly feeling the torn skin. “Nora, tell me,” she whispered.
She pushed my hair over my shoulder and sat as close as she could. I was suddenly very conscious of the fact that I was almost naked with Maren Digby on my bed. My nipples tightened and a familiar warmth spread through my belly.
Then I felt something odd. Something unbelievably incredible.
Her lips warm and tender on my back. Gentle kisses on ravaged skin.
“Who is doing this to you, Nora?” she sobbed and I turned so that I was facing her. Without giving myself time to think about what I was doing, I took her in my arms and we held each other. My bare chest pressed against her rough shirt, and I almost sighed at the feel of her. Finally so close. How I always wanted her to be.
“Who would do this to you, Nora? My god!”
I ran my hand through her hair and it felt good. So good.
“She insisted on coming.”
Maren pulled back and the distance between us felt like miles. I realized Bradley was also there, standing beside the open window, watching us, unreadable.
I pulled the blanket back up over my n
aked breasts, overwhelmed with sudden awkwardness. Maren glanced at Bradley, who hadn’t moved. “He said he had to come see you. I wanted to come too. He tried to stop me, but I wasn’t having it.”
Maren attempted to give me a smile, but it fell short.
I wanted to ask where Maren had seen Bradley to ask him. Why were the together to begin with? I looked from Bradley to Maren. From Maren to Bradley. But their focus was entirely on me. And that felt nice.
For this brief period of time, I was the center of their world.
So for now, I could ignore the prickling of suspicious anger that simmered quietly in my gut.
“Can I turn on a light? I want to have a better look,” Maren said, reaching around me to flip on the lamp.
My frightened gaze landed on Bradley, silently imploring for him to stop her. I didn’t want her to see more of my scars. It was too much.
But he did nothing. He watched me with the girl I loved impassively. Dispassionately. There was nothing in his dead, green eyes. And I shivered.
Where was my Bradley?
Where had he gone?
“Some of these are old, Nora. Tell me now what’s going on!” Maren insisted and my attention was pulled from my friend.
I didn’t say anything. Bradley too remained quiet. He watched the two of us together with a look on his face that I didn’t recognize. Was it for me?
Was it for Maren?
My stomach clenched and I felt sick.
Was it for Maren?
I grabbed my shirt from the floor and hastily put it on, trying not to cry out when the cotton touched my skin.
It was strange having Maren here. With Bradley.
It didn’t feel right.
Crowded.
Suffocating.
I couldn’t quite breathe, and I wanted them both to leave. I was angry with Bradley for this. I was upset that Maren was here tonight of all nights.
I was confused and messed up and feeling an anger that didn’t quite make sense.
And Bradley stood silently; wearing an expression I had never seen before.
Jealousy perhaps?
I felt lighter.
After too many tensely silent minutes Maren shifted on the bed, crossing her legs at the ankle. “So Bradley climbs through your window, huh? Do you guys play some sort of Dawson and Joey role-play or something?”
The Missing- Volume II- Lies Page 7
