Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

by Demelza Carlton

  “I hope everyone’s okay now,” I replied politely, wondering what he wanted.

  “Back at work and all,” he said. “But I didn’t call to talk about me. I wanted to know if anything else had happened since the break-in. Did you notice anything missing, or anything in the house that shouldn’t be? Had any further intruders?”

  I hesitated. Nathan hadn’t said anything about keeping Laura’s attack secret, but if he hadn’t told the police how he and I’d killed four people between us that night, I couldn’t just blurt it out. “No, no intruders after last week,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t have to mention that they’d come back two days running last week...

  “You keep a look out, and call me if you see anything suspicious,” he insisted. “It’d be a hell of a relief if there was anything else you could tell me about what you remember from your captivity. Stuff we could use to track them down, so you wouldn’t have to worry about an attack...”

  “I’ve been writing down a little of what I remember,” I replied cautiously. “I could give you a copy on CD when I see you next.”

  “That'd be a great help,” he said. “I’ll have to get back to you on when I can meet with you again. I seem to be snowed under in the office. You’d think I’d been on holidays instead of home sick...”

  We both said polite goodbyes and ended the call.

  I headed back to my room to finish off the Nightmares file so I could give copies to everyone who seemed to want my memories.

  One version for the police and Mott, which didn’t include a single mention of Chris. From the police to the judge, just like I promised. One complete version for Nathan, omitting nothing.

  I paused for a moment. There was one thing I wanted to keep from Nathan, if I could. He felt guilty enough now, with his vague knowledge of what they’d done. He didn’t need to know explicit details. I took out every mention of rape and replaced it with other words for the same thing. Torture. They hurt me. Pain…but never admitted to him that they raped me. I imagined the look on his face if he read it…and removed the lot. He knew. He didn't need to be reminded. I hoped he never read it.

  I set a copy of Nathan’s version to print, too, just in case something went wrong with the data copy. A hard copy backup – I wasn't taking any chances. Just as the first page hummed off the printer, I heard Jo’s car pull up, perfectly on time.

  I headed for the front door to let her in, then led the way back to my room. My work was only half done.

  “So, what are you doing?” Jo asked, seating herself on my bed.

  I squinted at the screen. “I’ve been writing down the details of everything they did to me so I can give it to ASIO and the police. Now, I’m checking my emails to see how much I can sell the story for.”

  “You’re selling your story? To who?” she squealed.

  I grimaced. “I haven’t decided yet. This one’s offering the most money, but...they want to interview Nathan as well as me. I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

  She clapped her hands like an excited child. “Are you serious? It’s a brilliant idea. Hell, I’d pay to see his face when you tell people on live television how much of a pervert he is! I still don’t understand how you can stand to have him around after all he did to you. You know there’s a condition called Stockholm Syndrome that you should really read up on...”

  I stopped dead and grabbed her shoulders so we were face to face. “Listen to me. Nathan Miller never hurt me – not once. He may have stuffed up a bit and let other people hurt me more than he should, but he’s paid for it. He really did save my life, Jo. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”

  I itched to tell her the whole story, but I stood by my word as Nathan stood by his. Now, if only he’d stand by long enough to do this interview, I’d have the money to start a new life, far from here and the memories of pain.

  She stared at me, as if trying to read my thoughts. I hoped she couldn’t – my head held more darkness than she should see.

  “I want to believe you,” she said finally. “Before this, I’d swear you’re telling the truth. Now, I feel like you’re hiding something. Fine. Fine. But if I’m supposed to be nice to him as your boyfriend, I won’t stand and watch if he hurts you. I’ll break both his kneecaps if he so much as thinks about hurting you.”

  I smiled weakly. “Thanks, Jo. If he hurts me, you can get in line. I’ll castrate him first and if I leave him alive, then it’s your turn.”

  She laughed. “That I believe. Though I think you’re too nice to kill him. I’ll help you, if the time comes.”

  I forced a smile. Jo didn’t know I was already a killer – and she didn’t need to, either.

  “So, how much are you selling your soul for?” she asked, bouncing back onto the bed.

  “My story,” I corrected, tapping the screen. “This one is offering two million for an exclusive interview with Nathan and I. Photos, recorded TV interview and all magazine coverage.”

  She whistled. “Seriously? Take it, take it! With that much money, you could finish your degree without having to work part-time, plus you could even record an album if you wanted to.”

  “If only Nathan will agree...” I mused.

  “Test him. Tell him it’s a test of his love or commitment or whatever,” she suggested.

  I shrugged. “I’ll try. Hey, I’ve been working on some new songs while I’ve been stuck at home. Part of my physio exercise is daily piano practice and Nathan inspired this one...”

  I led the way to the music room and lifted the lid on the piano. “It’s called Necessary Evil.”

  A smile spread across her face, widening as I played the opening notes of what definitely wasn’t a love song.

  Part 74

  Beach – Ambulance – Sand – Shots – Surf – Road – Nathan – Numb

  So cold. So tired.

  He made me drink something, full of sugar and bubbles. He asked me irrelevant questions, but he wouldn’t even tell me his name.

  Shouts and lots of people on the beach. After so much darkness, their bright torches were more than my eyes could handle. Blindly, I clung to him.

  Don’t leave me, blind, alone and helpless with strangers. I’ve had more of that than I can take. My eyes filled with tears, the torch beams shimmering and fracturing through them, but I fought to stop them from falling.

  I could feel him standing up, lifting me in his arms. I couldn’t let go of him. He was the rock holding me steady in this universe of whirling, erratic stars.

  I could feel his footsteps on the beach sand, then the sudden jarring of each step as we reached the bitumen.

  After only a few steps on the road, bright light exploded overhead. I squinted, trying to adjust to this brightness that hurt my eyes, as Nathan gently set me down on something soft. The feeling of cool, crisp fabric on my exposed skin. I tried to look, but the white sheet blinded me, reflecting the beam from above.

  Nathan’s gentle hands helped me lie down. My vision blurred as I looked right at the fluorescent light on the ceiling. Then he leaned over me, his face mercifully blocking the worst of it, with the remainder haloing his head like my own personal guardian angel.

  As if he took this role seriously, he told me, "You’re going to be all right." His voice cracked as he said it, as if he was trying to convince himself.

  I smiled at him. Of course I’m going to be all right. I wanted to hug him and tell him thank you, but he moved and the light blinded me again, my eyes watering. By the time I'd blinked the tears away, an ambulance officer had usurped his place.

  "Where is he?" I asked this new stranger. He pulled on gloves. I shrank away from the very thought of him touching me, of anyone touching me.

  His voice tried to soothe me, as he held his hands up in a gesture of polite surrender. "It’s all right. The police have him now. They’ll arrest him and lock him in a cell where he won’t be able to hurt you. And when he goes to prison, do you know what happens to child molesters and rapists? The other prisone
rs think they’re the lowest of the low. He’ll get a bit of his own medicine, and if you’re lucky he might not even make it out alive."

  He sounded pleased at the thought of what awaited the man who’d hurt me.

  My response was angry. "No! He never hurt me. They can’t send him to prison! HE NEVER HURT ME!"

  Part 75

  Let the world know he’s the hero who saved my life. Whatever else he did doesn’t matter now. I gave my word.

  I focussed on slowing my breathing for the drive to the TV station. Nathan talked non-stop but I didn't listen to him. I had to try and keep the story straight in my head, without opening the dark cesspool of memories. Today I tell a story that is only based in truth – the story people want to hear.

  Some of Nathan's words started to sink in. If you've had enough, end it. Remember what you're protecting him from. A small price to pay for his protection, as long as it's needed. If you've had enough, end it before you can say too much about how it ended.

  I let Nathan guide me into the building, my thoughts so full I moved on autopilot.

  "Can I help you?" a bored-looking receptionist asked when we stopped by her desk.

  It's time. Realisation rocked me and I had to place both hands on her desk to stay standing. She looked at my hands with disgust, as if they marred the marble with the slightest touch. She had no idea just how deep the taint ran. To the depths of my very soul, if I even have one.

  "I'm Caitlin Lockyer," I said calmly. I waited for her eyes to widen as she realised I wasn't simply a child with dirty hands but a dark denizen of realms she could only imagine in her worst nightmares. She didn't disappoint.

  "Ffffollow me, please," she stuttered, tottering forward on her impossibly high heels into the studio. "You'll need to go to makeup before your interview and wardrobe, too…" Her jerky movements betrayed her fear.

  Nathan, I need your help today, more than ever. Don't let me out of your sight.

  I took his proffered arm and hoped I wouldn't have to let go. Hope lasted less than a minute.

  The round woman was only a tiny bit taller than me, but she looked twice my weight. She directed Nathan to a makeup artist, leaving me standing without support in the middle of the room.

  A gleeful girl started working on him.

  Wondering who would work on me, I was surprised to find that I had not one, but three. "Get her undressed," the woman in charge ordered.

  Get her undressed and you know what to do next…

  NO! A sob threatened to escape from my throat as I tried to focus on anything but the abyss of memory before me.

  An unfamiliar hand with long nails touched my arm. "We're going to make you look absolutely beautiful for your interview, hon. New clothes, makeup and everything. But first, we have to get these clothes off you," she murmured.

  We have to get these clothes off you. Then I have to…

  Darkness and dreams. Stronger than me. Hands beneath my shirt that I was powerless to push away. Trust turned to panic but it was too late. No, please…please…don't…

  Nathan.

  His hands were warm around mine. His lips were warmer still as he kissed me softly. I swallowed my scream. Safe.

  I froze as his fingers moved to unbutton my shirt, baring me to everyone. "You don't have to do this," he murmured.

  You don't have to do this…

  I do.

  Yes, I fucking well do. Let them see my scars. They barely scratch the surface, for the damage runs deep.

  I held still as Nathan took my shirt off. I stood rigid in the middle of the room and no one said a word. Nathan dropped his hands lower.

  "No, I can do this," I warned him, stripping down to my underwear.

  The horror on his face spun around the room, from one gasping girl to another. Don't push me. You have no idea what I've been through.

  A dress was passed from hand to hand until Nathan slipped it over my head. No one else wanted to touch me. I understood. Nathan would, because he had no choice.

  The wrap dress was beyond him, but I didn't move to assist him. It hung half open when he threw his hands up in despair.

  "May I?" one of the girls asked.

  I nodded once and her deft hands quickly repaired the damage, tying the dress in a tight bow at my hip.

  "Are you sure?" Nathan asked.

  Shit, Nathan. It's hard enough telling myself I can do it, without you doubting me. I took a deep breath and let it out before I lost it. I told him I was. I told him I knew what I was doing. I told him to get ready for the interview. And then my courage failed. I can't do this alone. "I need you," I admitted.

  I wasn't sure if he heard. Nathan turned away from me to return to his makeup artist.

  My knees shook, as my legs started to ache from standing so long.

  "Sit down, hon," one of the girls whispered, escorting me to the makeup chair beside Nathan.

  He turned to me, excitement making his eyes shine beneath his light coat of eyeliner. I felt his fingers close over mine.

  "Close your eyes, sweet. It's my turn to make you look even more beautiful than you do already." My grip tightened on Nathan's fingers as I obeyed her.

  Nathan's hand slipped from mine and I heard the swish of fabric before he enveloped my hand in both of his. He kissed my fingers and started to apologise.

  I cut him off, not wanting to cry with so much makeup on. I waited impatiently for the woman to finish painting me so I could get this over with. Finally, she told me she was done.

  My eyes flew straight to Nathan. My reflection wasn't important – would he support me?

  His smile said yes.

  I managed to force out a smile of my own as I thanked him. I stood up unsteadily and one of the girls sprang to my assistance. I endured her touch but still I reached desperately for Nathan.

  It wasn't until he took my arm, giving me the support I needed, that I followed a man in black into the studio.

  Part 76

  I eyed off the armchairs, wanting to sag into one and knowing that I couldn't. I had to sit with perfect posture and poise, as if this was a job interview. In a way, perhaps it was.

  "Grab a seat," our escort directed, listening to something over his headset. He waved at the chairs and walked away.

  I carefully sat down in the middle chair, where I'd be facing front. The same girl who'd fixed my dress helped me smooth my skirt. "Good luck," she whispered. I managed to smile in response.

  I glanced at Nathan to my right. His smile seemed as rigid as mine and his hand tightened over my fingers. Wonderful. My support is as scared as I am. We're screwed. They won’t believe a word of our story and a few well-placed questions would pick it apart like frayed hessian.

  The interviewer gave a little cough to draw my attention from Nathan. I took a deep breath and turned my head toward her.

  From start to finish, it was a carefully scripted exchange, though it followed my script more than the interviewer's one. I wondered if a soap opera like Home and Away was more realistic.

  "What were you thinking most, in the pain and the dark?" she asked. Her fake sympathy set my teeth on edge.

  I summoned a sad little smile. "I wanted to kill them all," I began. I felt considerable satisfaction at her shock. "But I knew I couldn’t." I sighed deeply, as if it was my deepest regret.

  She gaped for a few seconds, before moving on to the next question. I behaved myself this time, responding with the carefully crafted responses that turned me into a tragic heroine, rescued by Nathan, the big alpha-male hero, like they wanted. It was entertainment – not real.

  Nathan stumbled a little over his responses to the first couple of questions, before he fell into his stride. I listened to every word, alert for the tiniest slip that I'd have to step in and correct. Even when he started describing the beach where he'd found me, his description sounded real. Real to everyone but me, for I remembered a clearer picture than he outlined. So did he, I was certain.

  Nathan's eyes landed on me and I
heard his paean of praise for his plucky little princess: "She’s amazing. No matter how much pain she was in, she never stopped fighting to live, to get better. Anything else would mean they’d won."

  Once glance at the interviewer told me his words didn't help build my image as a fragile little fainting blossom.

  Before he could say anything else he shouldn't or the interviewer could open her mouth to ask another question, I chose to be cruel.

  In the same voice I'd used when I'd uttered those fateful words on the beach, I whispered, "End it."

  Nathan froze, silent and wide-eyed. I felt sorry for him, but it did the trick. He announced that the interview was over and helped me to my feet.

  The black-clad man with the headset pursed his lips up in a kiss, his wide eyes fixed on me as he pointed at us.

  I nodded and guided Nathan into a classic pose, seen in a million movies where the hero kisses the girl. And kiss me he did, until the cameraman told us he'd had enough.

  Keeping with the fainting flower persona, I leaned heavily on Nathan as we were escorted back to make-up to dress in our own clothes again. I felt like I couldn't breathe freely until we left the TV studio and stood in the sun outside.

  "You did it," he said in wonder.

  "We did," I replied.

  "Miss Lockyer! Miss Lockyer!" The receptionist ran out of the building. "You forgot this!" She handed me an envelope, smiling at me. "You were really brave in there. I hope you're happy together." She scurried back inside.

  I ripped open the envelope, knowing what was inside, but needing to check. The first tear revealed the word "million" on the cheque. I didn't need to read the rest to know it was enough.

  "What is it?" Nathan asked, curious.

  "Our cheque from the TV station for the interview. Would you like to know how much heroism like yours is worth? Half of this is yours, Nathan."