At first, she’d thought she’d imagined the entire night, but the welt on the back of her head hadn’t happened from falling or tripping. It’d happened when Greg slammed her head against the brick wall.
When she finished the sketch, she did what she did every time, tore it into shreds and flushed it down the toilet so no one could see it and question her sanity. She reached into her purse and pulled out the wad of cash. If she didn’t do something with it, some loser in the house would steal it.
She searched the newspaper ads, looking for something she could afford, circling anything in her price range and local. One caught her eye, a Grand Am. She made the phone call and was out the door in minutes. The car had belonged to a woman who’d passed away, and the daughter just wanted rid of it.
Kris handed the woman the cash, took the title, and she was one-step closer to freedom. Now to get a job. She’d save every penny, and then she’d head south.
It took all day, but she found a job at a deli, which also meant free food. The food at the foster home sucked. The first night she pocketed forty dollars in tips. By the time she graduated, she’d have enough.
Kris parked her car and scanned the alley behind her apartment building. Her eyes darted to the rooftop. “You’re there, aren’t you?” she whispered. She squinted at the nighttime sky. Was it her imagination, or had she seen a shadow? “Why won’t you show yourself?”
“Kristina, is that you?” Liz called from the window. “Where’ve you been?”
Kris had to admit, out of all of the foster homes she’d been in, Liz was the one woman who seemed to care. But it was too late. Too late for her to have a mother or father, brothers or sisters. She peeked up at the rooftop again. Beth had been her only family, but now, she realized she had someone else. No one would believe her, of course, so she couldn’t tell anyone, but someone was protecting her.
What if she left Massachusetts, though? Would she ever see him again?
“Here,” Billy said in the back of the deli. “Try this. You won’t be worried about anything anymore.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Kris asked. “What is it?”
“Just pot, babe. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Billy had been kind to her. He’d never come on to her as most of her dates did. He’d always just wanted to hang around and watch TV and get high. She’d never done drugs, but she’d heard pot wasn’t bad.
She held out her hand and accepted the thin, tightly-wrapped paper. She inhaled and then choked.
“Take it easy, girl. Just inhale and hold it in.” He demonstrated again.
Kris inhaled a few more times, but didn’t feel anything. He continued to swap with her, but then she backed up as his face distorted.
“What’s wrong?” Billy said, sounding like a cartoon character, but not a funny one, an evil one.
She backed up further, her eyes darting around the room. “What did you give me?” she screamed.
“Relax, babe. I smoked the same stuff. It’s clean.”
Kris fell to the floor and covered her face, wishing the room would stop spinning. Every time she tried to uncover her eyes, Billy’s face moved forward and back again, as though growing and shifting in size. “Make it stop,” she cried.
His hands touched her shoulders. “Kris, I don’t understand.”
“Stop it!” Chills rocked her body and her heart raced.
“I’m sorry, babe. I swear. There’s nothing in it.” He wrapped his arms around her as she shook violently.
“It hurts. My heart hurts. I’m scared,” Kris cried.
He continued to rock her back and forth. “I’m sorry.”
It took forever, but finally her body stopped quivering. “I don’t want to do that again.”
Billy held her. “Okay.”
Kris got to her feet and stumbled to her car. The deli had closed hours ago, and Liz would be freaking out. She sat in her car while she waited for her head to clear. It didn’t take too long. Maybe it was just a fluke because it was her first time. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Derrick sat in the back of the library, his head down, ball cap low over his eyes. Kristina had been coming here regularly, attempting to get some college work finished before she went to work.
Obviously, she was safe in the library, so he had no reason to be here. But something had changed. At twenty years old, she was a beautiful woman, a woman he suddenly wanted to meet. He wondered if she still remembered him. He’d managed to stay invisible for the last four years, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d even recognize him. The thought that she wouldn’t stung his heart; he wanted her to know him. To know him as intimately as he knew her.
Most days she just read and took notes, but today, she’d been working intently on a piece of paper, had changed out her pencil several times. She was drawing, he realized. She’d drawn since she was a little girl, but he’d never seen one other than the page Janelle had held up. He’d heard Kristina rip up several drawings when she was young and someone had walked into the room. Ever since the one girl had teased her when she was eight, it was as though she was afraid to let anyone see what she’d drawn.
He felt a compelling urge to walk by, but he couldn’t. He could never get close enough that she could see him. If she recognized him…as much as he wanted her to, he knew that would be dangerous—he couldn’t think about it. He’d told Michael repeatedly, he’d never allow anything to happen to her. He’d failed once; he refused to fail again. It wasn’t in his nature to fail. He had one goal: keep her safe for one more year, until she was twenty-one. Truly, she was a grown woman now, but she was still so vulnerable. She was always trying to find herself, so she still made unwise decisions. Not that he stopped her from making the wrong decisions; he just wanted to be there if someone took advantage of her.
Kristina picked up her phone and glanced at the time.
“Yes, you’re late, silly girl. As always,” he said under his breath. He couldn’t help but smile. She tried so hard, but she was easily distracted. At least she was trying to finish college, trying to make a better life.
The last few weeks had been tough, though. Both Janelle’s death and her almost rape had happened in March, so she didn’t do well this time of the year when everyone else was basking in the springtime, and tonight was the anniversary of Janelle’s death, the reason he’d decided to keep an eye on her. She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but when he’d driven by her apartment the last few nights—just to make sure she was safe—he’d heard her screams. He’d learned to tell her nightmares, though, so he didn’t rush to her fire escape anymore, ready to kill someone.
She stood and shoved her books inside her backpack, then crumpled up the paper she’d been working on so diligently. She threw it in the trashcan, then darted out of the library.
He couldn’t stop himself…he had to see it. He ambled toward the bin, his eyes darting around the library. Not that it was illegal, but he didn’t want the librarians to see him fishing through the garbage. He waited until all eyes were averted, then reached down so quickly that probably no one would have seen him anyway.
He waited a few seconds to make sure she’d pulled out of the parking lot, then walked outside and sat on a bench. He unfolded the wadded up piece of paper, but then gasped at the image.
He’d hoped that when she occasionally gazed up at the rooftops she was looking for him. And he’d been right. She was looking for him. Why else would she have drawn this image? But…he’d also been wrong in thinking she couldn’t identify him. She’d remembered every detail of his face, his hair, his eyes. She knew him as intimately as he knew her. She’d only seen him twice, and both times, she’d been under duress. And yet, she’d captured his image perfectly.
He released a long sigh. If Michael ever saw this… If anyone ever saw this… As much as he didn’t want to destroy the drawing, he walked to the librarian’s desk, knowing they had a shredder. Without asking, he slipped the piece
of paper he wished he could keep into the blades.
Kristina, he whispered her name as the black and white image separated into thin white strips and dropped into the wastebasket. He closed his eyes… I want you to see me. I wish I could let you see me. But not yet…maybe someday.
His phone chimed. He looked at the message. E.R. STAT
He charged off toward his vehicle, glad for the interruption of his thoughts, but hoped it wasn’t someone in his family. He hit the call button on his steering wheel, and Roseanne answered after a few rings.
“Roseanne, it’s Derrick. I’m on my way. Who’s the patient?”
“Mrs. Jones. Dr. Maher wants to transport her to Mass General, but she refuses, says she’s been coming to this hospital for years. She’ll only speak to you.”
Derrick smiled. “She’s a stubborn woman, I know. I’m on my way.” Mrs. Jones wouldn’t see anyone but him or his father. But she did have heart trouble. At least it wasn’t someone in the family.
Thankfully, his job kept him busy, so he wasn’t tempted to constantly watch Kristina anymore. But he’d probably have to go without sleep tonight. No telling how much she’d drink or what she’d do to celebrate Janelle’s death, and he couldn’t lose her. Not when they were so close to the same age.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What’s your excuse this time, Derrick?” Michael asked, sliding across from him at the back of the pub.
A group of men surrounded Kristina at the bar, buying her shots for her twenty-first birthday. She’d mostly kept out of trouble in the last year, but she still put herself in precarious situations. Never worrying about walking down a dark alley alone, as though she knew he’d save her. She hadn’t called out for him in a while, but every so often, she gazed up at the rooftops as though she knew he was protecting her.
“You need to let her go,” Michael continued. “You said you’d quit when she turned twenty-one. She’s an adult now, even if she doesn’t act like one.”
“Sometimes she acts like an adult,” Derrick said. “She’s almost finished college. It’s been slow going, but she’s trying. It’s not easy paying your way on a waitressing job.”
Mike snorted. “Especially when you drink away half your tips nightly.”
Derrick glared at his brother, even though he knew it was true. Every time he heard her say she’d never do it again, she did. She was just lonely. Not that she had a lack of dates, but she was lonely for someone who cared.
“I want to talk to her.”
“The family won’t allow it. She’s a liability. And if it didn’t work…”
Derrick drilled a gaze at his brother again. “It’d never happen. I think I made myself clear on that. She hasn’t said a word all these years. Obviously, she’s forgotten.”
“What if she recognizes you? You’ll only look a few years older to her,” Michael said, as if he had to remind him what he looked like.
“I think I’m in love with her.”
“Derrick, you don’t even know her.”
“You’re wrong. I know everything about her. For the last year, all I can do is think about her. I know her walk, her scent, her voice… I know that she only reveals her real self to her best friend. I’ve listened to her share her dreams with Beth, dreams of what she wants, what she wants to accomplish. She has just as much drive as Janelle had…but Janelle had a home, parents who loved her.” He shook his head. “And I know she fights invisible demons in her sleep, just as I do every night. I know that she blames herself for Janelle’s death. I know that she dreams about moving somewhere safer and warmer, where I’ll never see her again. I know that she’s lonely. And…I think she’s waiting for me.”
“Damn, Bro, you’re a regular stalker.”
“You know it’s nothing like that. I’ve only protected her. But now, it’s there. The connection that I never understood, the reason I could never fall for another woman. My heart skips a beat every time I hear her voice. I’m not just worried about her anymore…I want to meet her—personally. Who knows, I might be like one of the other guys she meets, and she might turn me down flat, and then, you’ll win. I’ll walk away. But shouldn’t I get a chance? We’re the perfect age for each other now.”
Mike shook his head. “She’s still too young, dude. Few humans make lifelong relationship decisions at twenty-one, and she drinks too much. She’d be a liability. Maybe in a few years the family will approve it. And what about Tori? I thought you two were getting along.”
Derrick raised an eyebrow. “I hope you aren’t still calling her Tori. She hates it.” Derrick shook his head. “And we get along fine. Always have. We work together, have fun together, but that’s it. I’ve told her how I feel. I can’t help it that my heart doesn’t practically leap out of my chest when she walks into the room.”
“Every other man’s does,” Michael said, laughing. “You’re insane. She’s perfect.”
“I know, and I’ve been honest with her. It’s never going to happen, Mike. She, you, and the rest of the family need to realize that. I’m tired of repeating myself. In fact, let’s go.”
Derrick jumped up with one fleeting look at Kristina, who was too drunk to recognize him right now anyway. All that he could do was hope she’d get home safely. He didn’t follow her anymore. He just made sure she was at home. If she wasn’t, he just made sure no one was killing her, but he had no desire to listen to her on a date with another man.
When he reached his car, he called his father, letting him know he planned to put in his official request. He didn’t care anymore. He knew what he wanted, what his soul wanted, the reason he couldn’t fall for another woman. He’d just needed to wait until they were closer in age. Now that she was twenty-one, and he looked twenty-five, they were perfect for each other. Yeah, he’d be alone for a few years if it worked out, but he knew she was the one he wanted forever.
A few more years, the council agreed…he only had to wait a few more years. He knew that would be better anyway, even if he didn’t want to admit it. If she didn’t get married, and he didn’t fall for someone by the time she was twenty-five, the family agreed that she’d be old enough to make a decision. They were mostly concerned about her drinking, but Derrick was pretty sure she could walk away from alcohol if she wanted. They’d warned him, though… If they did attempt a relationship, and she didn’t fall, if it didn’t work, he’d have to accept the consequences. He’d agreed; even though he knew he’d never let anyone touch her, regardless of what she decided.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kris scanned the vestibule of her apartment building while she headed to her mailbox. As much as she tried to play off her mother’s murder and the attack on her when she was sixteen, it still affected her sometimes.
She balanced her phone and water bottle in one arm while she jiggled the key inside the keyhole. “Stupid piece of garbage,” she grumbled, “just like the rest of this place.” If she didn’t get it just right, the stupid thing refused to open. Meanwhile, her back was open to anyone who wanted to attack her. God, she wanted to get out of here.
After retrieving her mail, she trudged up to the third floor. Her feet ached from being on them all day at the restaurant, but she liked being on the top floor. It felt safe. Her apartment was one of the only places she felt secure.
She dropped the mail on the table and then worked her way around the apartment, watering her plants. She chattered aimlessly to each plant as she checked the soil and removed dead leaves. She felt silly sometimes, but whom else was she going to talk to, and she’d read that her carbon dioxide was good for them. The plants repaid her in their own way, greeting her daily with bright green leaves that reminded her of a tropical locale. Even when the rest of Boston was frigid and dreary, her apartment was warm and cozy.
Someday she’d be able to move south.
Kris set the water canisters in the sink, then plopped down at the table, picking up the first envelope. She sighed…she knew what it was. She received them from the college a
lmost every semester.
Your records have been placed on hold, which stops future enrollment, blah, blah, blah, the letter from college read. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to drop out of a class. As much as she wanted to leave for a warmer state, college was the other reason she couldn’t. She’d looked into out-of-state admission costs. She could barely afford what she was paying here, and she really wanted to finish.
The other reason she couldn’t leave, of course, was him. Someday, she told herself. Someday she’d get attacked again, and he’d be there. Only next time, she wouldn’t let him leave. She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that she hadn’t made him up. But twice? How could she have imagined his eyes and heard his voice twice?
Absently, she reached for a pen. Those eyes…she knew those eyes. Within seconds of finishing just his eyes, she ripped the paper to shreds. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t stay here alone tonight. But she couldn’t afford to go out either. Unless… She hated doing it; she felt like such a tramp when she did it, but the men never seemed to mind. It wasn’t as though she asked them.
Making up her mind, she pushed away from the table. No way was she going to stay home alone and wallow in self-pity or dream about some mysterious stranger who refused to show himself.
After showering, she doused herself with her favorite body spray she only used on rare occasions. She couldn’t afford to use it daily, and it wasn’t as though she’d increase her tips at work by smelling like Malibu Beach. No, she reserved it for going out.
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