The Bulletproof Boy

by Loretta Lost

  A few people said that discovering what his mother did to me made him so angry that he was going to confront his parents—my parents—and possibly hurt or kill them.

  I’m not surprised.

  What good does that do for me now? Finding out my parents are alive just long enough to find out that they’ve been killed. I just don’t really know what to make of the situation. So, I continue walking.

  “He’s not a bad person,” Helen says as she walks beside me. “I’ve met his parents, and his father is so awful, Sophie. He abused Liam relentlessly. He still does. Your mother is just very quiet. Like she’s had to deal with so much bullshit that she just shut down inside herself. She’s basically catatonic. Like her body’s there, but nobody’s home.”

  This makes me pause. I turn to look at Helen, quizzically. “She has a mental illness?”

  “I—I guess. I don’t know. The genetic test we did said Liam had a heightened risk for Alzheimer’s, so I assume that’s what she has. But I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

  I press my lips together tightly. “No reason.” I don’t want to reveal too much information about myself to a stranger, but hearing about my mother’s mental health does make me wonder. Sometimes I feel completely shut down and catatonic. And then, there are those blackouts. Is it possible that my mother has similar issues? I continue walking.

  “Did you call a cab to the airport?” Helen asks. “I would love to share one with you.”

  “No,” I tell her. “I just started walking. I like walking long distances, sometimes. It clears my head.”

  “But it’s dozens of miles!” Helen remarks. “And you’re wearing heels. Here, let me call us an Uber. Oh, it’s going to be a little while. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I figured that when we reach the main road, I could hail a cab, or even hitchhike,” I explain to her.

  “Hitchhike?” Helen says in surprise. Then she smiles. “I’ve never done that before. Isn’t it dangerous?”

  I look at her curiously. She is so sweet. And surprisingly cheerful for a girl who just got left at the altar. “Aren’t you upset about Liam leaving?” I ask her.

  “Yes, but… I understand him,” she says with a shrug. “I don’t take this to mean he doesn’t love me, or doesn’t want to marry me. I mean, I get that he’s upset about the sneaky DNA test, but… I don’t regret it. It led me to finding you. And somehow, I know that it was the right thing to do.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her earnestly. “It did mean a lot to me, to learn anything at all.”

  “You’re not angry at me?” Helen asks. “That I made you fly all this way for nothing?”

  “No, not at all. It was worthwhile to me. Even to look at his face for a second is a crazy experience for me. I just saw a blood relative for the first time in my life. If only you could know what it feels like to be a homeless, orphan kid, walking around in a crowded city and looking at all these strange faces, wondering if one of these people could be your mother or father—now I finally know what a relative looks like. Even if he’s a dick.”

  “He can be a dick,” Helen says with a laugh. Then she frowns. “Hey, Sophie—did you just say homeless?”

  I sigh, realizing that I did let that slip. “I bounced around a lot. Sometimes, homeless was better than the alternative.”

  “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “I guess some kids get lucky. They get adopted by the right people early on, and their lives are smooth sailing, as though they were never abandoned. It’s easier if they have some knowledge of their birth parents, and understanding of why they were not capable of raising them. But I guess you could say… I wasn’t that lucky.”

  “Oh, Sophie, that’s terrible. But you’re so beautiful, nice, well-spoken, and well-dressed. My sister whispered to me that she recognized your clothes, and that they are designer labels? You must have done really well for yourself!”

  I laugh softly. “You think I’m nice? That might be the first time anyone has ever said that to me. And yes, I did fairly well for myself. I have a great job, and I have a great… boyfriend. He used to be my foster brother. He became really successful.” I realize I am on the cusp of blabbing too much about Cole and getting carried away talking about how proud I am of him. But what would I say?

  My boyfriend used to be my husband when I was Scarlett Hunter, but he recently died and left me all his millions, so I decided to go shopping for this outfit. But that was only after I walked through the desert to find him, because he wasn’t really dead. Don’t worry, we killed the people who tried to kill him, in this mausoleum with a bunch of dead bodies. Funny story—I have an ex-boyfriend who was also there the whole time, and it was so awkward, but he has military training and we thought we needed him. Turns out we didn’t, because my current boyfriend and sort-of husband plays video games.

  By the way, I got married when I was fifteen—legally fifteen, but I was actually fourteen, because Scarlett wasn’t even my real name or identity. My wedding sucked compared to yours. It just happened in a courtroom, and I didn’t even have a dress. But at least my wedding actually happened, so I guess I win.

  Yes, this is why I have no female friends. What would I even say to them? How can I participate in girl-talk when almost all the things I would have to say about my life and my relationships are incredibly weird, illegal, violent, or obscene?

  “That’s wonderful,” Helen says. “I’m so glad you have a great boyfriend. My life was such a mess before Liam came into my world. He really changed things for me. I was just this boring, blind writer, locked away in the woods, afraid to go near people…”

  “Wait,” I say suddenly. “You’re a writer? You were blind? What do you write? How are you no longer blind?”

  “Liam cured me,” she says with a blush. “It was this experimental treatment. I got lucky. That’s how we met. And I write revenge thrillers. It’s kind of fun.”

  “Anything I might have read?” I ask her.

  “Probably not. I’m not that famous. I think my most popular book is Blind Rage.”

  “No way!” I exclaim. “You’re Winter Rose?”

  “Yes,” she says in surprise.

  “I’ve read all your books,” I say with a genuine smile. “They’re amazing.”

  “Oh, that makes me so happy. I can’t believe you’ve read them!”

  “Yes, my boss is also a big fan. She actually loaned me a copy of your first book, and I read it at work on my lunch break. Then I snuck into her office and stole the rest of the books and read those, too. Your writing is a big hit… in my workplace.”

  “Where do you work?” Helen asks.

  “Oh… it’s just an office job where we fool around with computer stuff. Nothing too serious.”

  Helen squints as she looks at me, and now I can see it in her eyes—she is straining. I can now tell that she was previously blind, and that her vision is not perfect.

  “You’re lying,” she says with a smile. “Mysterious girl in a fancy black suit. Must be a very important job.”

  “I do love my job,” I tell her softly.

  “You know what, Sophie?” Helen says, grabbing my hand. “Forget Liam. Fuck him. I think you’re awesome, and you and I keep in touch, no matter what. I will be your family, okay? If you want that. I mean, I’m probably still going to marry him, and become your sister-in-law, but… that shouldn’t be the only reason we get to know each other. Let’s be friends. And maybe someday, we’ll be sister-in-laws, maybe not. It doesn’t matter.”

  “You don’t have to marry my brother for me to consider you my sister,” I tell her warmly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “As of this moment, I have spoken with you more than I have spoken with him—maybe more than I will ever speak with him. If I only considered my blood relatives to be family, then I would lead a very lonely existence. My friends are all I have in this world.”

  “Oh, Sophie,” Helen says softly.

  Just then, a car pulls u
p beside us, and the driver lowers his windows. “You called for an Uber?”

  “Yes!” Helen says. “I completely forgot. Come on, Sophie. I want you to tell me all about your life, and this spectacular boyfriend of yours. But I hope you don’t mind if it all ends up in a book someday. That’s what happens when you talk to writers, you know.”

  A smile touches my lips as we get into the car together. “I wouldn’t mind if someone wrote a book about my life. I think it could be a real page-turner. But first, you need to tell me more about Liam. How long have you two known each other?”

  I see Helen’s smile falter for a second as she leans forward and tells the driver to take us to the airport.

  “Are you worried about him?” I ask her suddenly. “I’m really sorry I ruined your wedding.”

  “You didn’t ruin it,” she tells me. “He did. I’m not worried. We’ve been through way worse together. This one time, I got so angry with him that I drove my car off a cliff and nearly died. I still have the brain damage to prove it.”

  “Wow,” I say, blinking. “And I thought my relationship was bad when it comes to bodily injuries! Please, tell me everything.”

  Helen smiles. “Well, it’s a funny story…”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sitting in a hotel room all by myself, I am drinking directly from the bottle of wine they gave me at the vineyard. Helen said that her family used to own that winery, and highly recommended the bottle. She said all kinds of sophisticated things about bouquet and aroma that I didn’t quite understand. I am not usually a wine drinker, but it’s pretty good stuff.

  The airport here is smaller than I’m used to, and there isn’t a flight out for several hours. I checked into this hotel nearby, thinking it was enough time to take a nap, or get some work done. But I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’ve mostly been moping, drinking, and texting Cole and Zack about my day. Zack is about to get on a flight of his own, back to Washington D.C. with Luciana.

  Until the cab ride with Helen, I believed that coming here was a complete and utter disaster. But she was so kind to me that it lifted my spirits, and made me feel welcome and valued. I’m not just saying that because she happens to be an author I adore, and I got her to autograph the back of my Kindle.

  Meeting my brother was a fiasco. I tried not to get my hopes up before meeting him, but I guess there will always be a desperate, destitute little orphan girl inside me, hoping to be magically given that family she wished for on every birthday candle, shooting star, and four-leaf clover she could find. I wasn’t expecting my brother to be a knight in shining armor, but I was hoping for a fairly decent human being who could stand to say more than five words to me.

  The whole experience was disillusioning, to say the least. All of Liam’s friends and Helen’s family seemed like such lovely people. Only Liam was the rough-around-the-edges outcast, ruining the day with his damage and drama. Like me.

  I guess that’s what I hated most about Liam. I definitely saw myself in him. I saw myself in the way he treated Helen, who was only trying to do something kind for him. I treated Zack that way all the time. I saw myself in the way he ran away when the emotions got too difficult to bear. It was clear to see that everyone there loved him, especially his best friend Owen. There was no need to hide from those people. But I’ve done that, too, to Cole and Miranda and Mr. Bishop. I did that again to Luciana, more recently.

  I don’t think that Liam deserves a happy ending. I don’t think he deserves a second chance, although I’m sure he’ll get one. Helen seems a little too forgiving. Maybe I don’t know him well enough to judge, but I came all this way to meet a biological sibling for the first time, and he bailed on me.

  That says a lot about a man.

  Before coming to Michigan, I felt so hopeful about my future with Cole. I felt like we could both change and be better. Now I’m a little shaken up. What if it’s just in my blood to be a horrible person? Everyone says my parents are dreadful. They must be, if they weren’t even invited to their own son’s wedding. Well, from what I understand, our mother was invited.

  My mother, the owner of that ugly sweater. I get a shiver thinking about her, and all I’ve learned today. If she does have Alzheimer’s or some other cognitive impairment… maybe she didn’t mean to abandon her baby? But that was so long ago.

  As I sit in this hotel room, drinking this bottle of wine, I think back to that small motel room, years ago, where I went to hide when I found out I was pregnant. Are my issues similar to my mother’s? I thought that it was my past that made me sick, but could it be something genetic? Maybe I need help. I should have checked myself into an institution when I realized I was unable to take care of myself. There was no way I would have been in any condition to take care of a child.

  Am I just like my mother?

  Maybe I should meet her and find out. Maybe, if I ever figure out her reasoning for getting rid of me, I could possibly even forgive her. It could feel good to let go of this lifelong anger.

  I think, maybe, I’ve already started.

  Why did I need to meet Liam so badly? I think I was looking for certain qualities in him—some sign that I would have been a better person if I had grown up with my real mother and father. A normal, well-adjusted person. It’s so easy to blame everything that’s wrong with me on my upbringing. What if things had been different? Even slightly. Just a little more stability. Just a little less cruelty.

  The scariest thought is that I could have turned out exactly the same. Or even worse. Liam doesn’t seem that much better than I am, though one might say he grew up with more privilege than I had. Even that’s debatable. He was still abused. He still experienced poverty.

  Maybe people are always exactly who they are, in spite of the circumstances they endure that could serve to make them better or worse. Maybe people always become exactly who they are meant to be, regardless of anything or anyone who might help or hinder their progress.

  During our ride to the airport, Helen told me about Liam’s compassion. She told me about how he’d performed surgery on her eyes, and protected her from a crazy stalker. But overall, my impression of Helen is that she is just a really optimistic and naïve girl, who hasn’t had a lot of experience with men, maybe due to her blindness. Maybe also due to her affluence, for she seems to have led a sheltered life.

  I think Liam did a few good things, and they really impressed her, but she doesn’t see the greater darkness lurking under his surface that I see. Maybe because she doesn’t have that darkness, so she can’t recognize it. I don’t think that Liam deserves Helen. I could be wrong, but from what little I’ve seen—I think he treats her badly. He did walk out on their lovely wedding and “throw an emo fit” as Luciana would say.

  Luciana would have a lot of choice words for Liam’s behavior.

  Smiling, I think of texting her. But I need a coffee first. I’ve already had too much wine. There is no coffeemaker in the room, but I saw a café downstairs.

  I have been so frustrated about today’s events that I haven’t even been inclined to pull out my laptop and hack into Liam’s life, to find out all sorts of juicy private information about him. Maybe later. Maybe I should sleep.

  No. Coffee is better than sleep. Maybe I’ll call Lucy and bitch about my day while I sip my coffee.

  Haven’t you heard? I have friends now.

  Grabbing my purse and my phone, I move to the door of my room and try to take a step into the corridor. But someone is blocking my way. I see the shoes first. And then the cane.

  I burst out laughing.

  “Okay,” I say, looking up into Benjamin’s face. “I get it. I’m dreaming. I fell asleep from drinking too much wine, and I’m having a nightmare that you’re here—but really, you’re not! Because I’m not scared of you anymore and I don’t need to have nightmares anymore. Do you hear that, subconscious? You can let go now. This image is just a terrifying icon of childhood trauma, and I reject any power it has over me. I’m committed to
being a happier and healthier person. Goodbye!”

  Slamming the door shut, I wait for the satisfying sound. There are few sounds in existence more satisfying than the good slam of a door in someone’s face. But instead, the door bounces on a wooden object. I look down in confusion. A cane.

  Wait a second. Taking a step back, I pinch my arm. Ouch. Does that even work?

  “Wake up, Sophie,” I order myself in a nervous singsong voice as the cane pushes the door open. I scowl when he steps into the room.

  Okay. Dream or not, I need to do something about this. Moving over to my bottle of wine, I take a drink to see whether it tastes like dream wine. What even is dream wine? Okay, I need to be honest with myself here: I’m not a wine kinda girl. I prefer hard liquor, or coffee. I stare at the bottle in my hand very hard, hoping that it will magically transform into vodka.

  It doesn’t.

  What the hell kind of a dream is this?

  Looking up, I see that Benjamin has fully entered the room now. “Sophie Shields,” he muses out loud, examining his manicure. Never trust a man with a manicure. I can’t even remember the last time I had a manicure, if ever. “So that’s how you’ve been hiding from me all these years. And Scarlett Hunter. I didn’t even know you were right under my nose, my darling girl.”

  My heart stops for a second, like it has forgotten how to beat. A palpitation.

  No. It’s just a side effect from nearly finishing a whole bottle of wine by myself, and mixing that with a little too much airplane coffee. It’s also a side effect of freakish nightmares.

  “No,” I say slowly. “No. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

  “Oh, my poor little Serenity,” he says, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a syringe. He turns it upside down and taps it.