“I thought you hated your sister,” Grayson whispers. “I thought—I thought you were angry that she left without a word. She doesn’t give a shit about you! Why would you invite her here?”
“I was just pretending to be pissed to hide how hurt I was. She’s my best friend! I missed her nonstop, every day.” Carmen is close to the point of tears again, and I hear her voice breaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Gray? Don’t you know me?”
“I’m sorry, honey. Come here.”
My ears are assaulted with the sound of them embracing again. I can hear him pressing kisses against her face to soothe her, and each time their skin connects, I feel my insides churning in disgust. The cupcakes in my stomach rebel at being confined within their gastric prison, and fight to make their exit in a gushing eruption. I clamp my hands around my middle and shut my eyes tightly, trying to avoid duplicating Carmen’s performance from the morning—it will not help this situation in the least if I need to stuff my face into the toilet. What is happening? I ask myself weakly. This can’t be real. Please let this be a nightmare. I’ve had so many nightmares about that man—just let this be one more awful dream that I will wake up from at any moment. I just want to be tucked away safe in my little cabin, light years from humanity… any moment now. I’ll wake up. Please.
“I thought my wedding day was supposed to be wonderful,” Carmen tells her fiancé softly, “but this is just one headache after another. I just want it to be over so we can be together.”
“We’ll be happy—soon. I promise you,” Grayson says to her gently. He trips over his words slowly and clumsily, with the trepidation of a man who is aware that he is one misstep away from unraveling the fabric of his entire life. “Soon—soon, we’ll be family. And nothing—nothing will ever stand between us again. Nothing.”
Family. He’s going to be family? My stomach lurches again. This is madness. Does he really love her? What is going on? I dig my fingertips into my new head injury, and the pain confirms my darkest dread.
Yes, this is a nightmare. The absolute worst kind of nightmare; real life.
I have to struggle to stay conscious. My mind is still reeling from the shock, and is trying urgently to shut down to shield itself from harm. Sadly, I wish my problems amounted to a simple concussion, but the trauma that’s affecting me is much deeper than the mild impact against my skull. I fight to take charge of my own disengaged faculties. Even my body is no longer under my control; I regretfully acknowledge that I am curled up into a tiny ball and shaking like a frightened animal. I realize this is counterproductive and worthless behavior, and I am furious with myself. I try to gather my wits so that I can pick myself off the ground and deal with this situation.
My sister is marrying my rapist, I inform myself. These words feel unreal. They sound ridiculous. The sentence does not pierce the murky depths of my brain, and I try to process the information again. My sister is about to marry the man who raped me.
Before I can form a plan of action, I hear the doorknob being jostled violently. My head snaps sharply to the side, and I am stabbed in the heart with multiple daggers of fear.
“Helen?” Grayson says, in a familiar and deceptively humane fashion. “Honey?”
I grind my teeth together. I would have been perfectly happy if I had never heard him speak my name again for the duration of my entire existence. The whole reason I changed my name was to escape the vile memory of him repeating it, over and over in a sadistic song…
“Honey, are you okay in there?” he asks again. “Will you come out so that Carmen doesn’t worry about you?”
Pressing my hand against the tub for support, I slowly lift myself off the ground. I find my chest heaving with deep, panting breaths. My tongue circles in the extra bit of sweet saliva that has gathered in my mouth, and all my muscles clench until they grow painfully taut. My body is gearing up for a fight. I don’t care if he’s a two-hundred-pound football player—or ex-football player. This time, I’m going to tear him limb from limb like a savage beast. I have replayed the event from three years ago in my mind several thousand times. Each time, I do something a little better; I’m a little faster, a little wiser, a little stronger. He will never hurt me again. I won’t allow it. But even if he does…
I know one thing for damned certain. There is no way that demon is marrying my sister. He might have gotten the best of me, but I will never allow him to do the same to her. I won’t allow him to touch her, ever again. I need to kick this man out of my home, and out of my life for good.
The doorknob jostles again, but this time, it doesn’t scare me. I puff out my chest and ball my hands into fists so tightly that my fingernails cut into my palms. How dare he? How dare he violate me and terrorize my family? I remember what my dad said about him being the perfect son-in-law, and my insides shudder with revulsion.
“Excuse me, Miss Winters,” says the makeup artist who has been waiting from somewhere distant in Carmen’s bedroom. I have to strain to hear her words, because she is speaking softly and the syllables do not perfectly carry through the door. Her voice is impatient and tired. “We haven’t finished working on your face.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Carmen says in horror. “We’re running so late! This is awful, Gray. We’re probably going to have to delay the ceremony.”
“All the guests will wait,” Grayson tells her. “You’re worth waiting for.”
Carmen lets out a shaky little laugh. “At least I cried before my makeup was complete…”
“Honey, your bathroom has an entrance to the adjoining room, right?” Grayson asks quietly. “Your sister’s old room?”
“Yes,” she responds. “Why?”
“Just wait here, love,” he tells her with another kiss. “I’ll go check on Helen. Why don’t you finish getting your makeup done for the wedding photos? Just sit down and relax, honey.”
“Gray,” Carmen whispers. “Just tell me one thing. Are you sure about me? One hundred percent sure about us?”
“I’ve never been surer about anything in my life,” he tells her. “You need to calm down, love. The day will be over soon, and we can curl up in bed and sleep in tomorrow, for as long as we want. We just have to get through these next couple hours, and satisfy all the family members—we just have to go through the motions for tradition’s sake.”
“Okay,” Carmen says, and there is strength in her voice for the first time in several minutes. “Thank you. You always make me feel better when things get rough.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” he tells her lightly. “I’ll be right back.”
Now it’s time for action. I move to the adjoining door that leads into my bedroom, and I lock it hastily. I wait until I hear Grayson leave Carmen’s room, and then I burst through the bathroom door into her room, and push past her. Moving as quickly as I can, I run across the carpeted floor, tripping over beauty supplies and knocking over chairs as I rush to lock her door. I turn back to her in righteous rage and terror, my chest still expanding rapidly with my heavy breathing.
“You can’t marry him,” I tell her adamantly.
“What?” Carmen says in surprise. “Why? Oh, Helen, you’re bleeding…”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, gasping for air. “Just listen to me for once in your life. You need to call off this wedding.”
“Why are you saying this?” she asks me, her voice wounded. “First Sabrina is a downer, and now you? Why can’t anyone be supportive of me?”
“I know him,” I tell her, as I continue wheezing. I bend over slightly and place the palms of my hands against my knees to support me. My hands are clammy and cold against my soft and newly-shaved legs. The salt in my sweat causes a mild burning sensation against the slightly razor-burned skin of my thighs. I realize that I haven’t decided how much I should tell Carmen. It could be very damaging for her to learn the whole truth; that’s why I protected her from it in the first place. But now? Now that she has fallen in love with him, I’m not sure what might be th
e proper protocol for this situation. “I know him from school, Carmen. He’s a criminal. He’s done horrible things.”
“Stop,” she hisses sharply. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear about it.”
I frown at the tone in her voice. “You’re about to marry this man, and you don’t even know who he is! He’s going to ruin your life. Call it off. Please call it off, for your own sake.”
“I can’t believe you,” Carmen whispers. “Why would you do this to me? You’re supposed to be happy for me.”
“I would be happy if it were almost anyone else,” I say in a deadly serious voice. “Carmen. You need to call it off.”
“Why?” she demands.
How can I say anything without hurting her? I part my lips, trying to think of the right words. I can’t just blurt out the truth, can I? No. It would devastate her. She would be upset enough about her cancelled wedding, and the embarrassment to all her friends and relatives—but then she would also need to deal with what happened to me. It would be too much for her to handle in this moment. “He’s going to hurt you,” I tell her, closing my eyes. “He’s not a good person.”
“Look,” Carmen snaps in annoyance. “We’re all flawed in some way. We all make mistakes. If I spend my life waiting for the perfect man, I’ll be waiting forever.”
“Flawed? He’s not just flawed. He’s a fucking monster.”
“Helen!” she says in shock. “You’re talking about the man who’s going to be my husband in a few hours.”
The makeup artist clears her throat. “We really need to get the bride’s face ready for photos… unless you’re calling the wedding off?”
“I’m not!” Carmen declares. “I’m getting married.”
Just then, to add another horrible element to the chaos, Grayson tries to re-enter the room. He turns the knob, and finds that it has been locked. “Carmen?” he says in confusion as he fiddles with it. “Will you let me in?”
In a panic, I move over to the dresser where I had left my phone. I pick it up with shaking hands, and hastily shove the single circular button. “Dial 911,” I speak into the phone anxiously.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Carmen asks, leaping forward and grabbing the phone from my hands.
“Calling 91…”
She interrupts my phone call before it can be completed, but places a hand on my arm. “Helen,” she says quietly. “Did he really do something worthy of arrest?”
“Yes,” I say, swallowing nervously. “Give me my phone. I’m calling the cops.”
“Please don’t,” Carmen begs. “If you destroy him, you’ll destroy me. Our lives are already so intertwined. We are practically married as it is! Anything that happened? Anything he did? It’s a family matter now. We’ll deal with it right here, between us.”
“You’re being so weak right now,” I say to her in surprise. “This isn’t like you. Why would you ignore important information and go ahead with a decision that can only end in tears?”
“Is everything okay in there?” Grayson calls from outside the room, jostling the doorknob.
Carmen takes a deep breath. “Listen to me, Helen. I’m not young and idealistic anymore. I’ve grown up, and I know that I need to make compromises.”
“You can’t compromise on this!” I hiss. “You can’t compromise on your safety!”
There is the sound of an item being tossed across the room and I flinch when it smashes into the wall. Carmen has snapped. I just hope it was a random beauty implement that fell victim to her rage, and not my cell phone.
“You weren’t here for me!” Carmen screams. “You were gone! Do you know how much you hurt me? Who the hell do you think you are? You left! You’ll probably just leave again tomorrow. This family obviously means nothing to you. I mean nothing to you!”
I can feel her breath on my face as she moves close to me so that her yelling can pierce my ears more painfully. I can also feel the eyes of the makeup artist on us. I am embarrassed as I wonder what she thinks of us—is this normal wedding behavior? It might be. There is also a hair stylist in the room, but it sounds like she is sitting and typing on her phone, and not bothered. There was another makeup artist in the room earlier, but it seems like she might have left when I was helping Carmen put on her dress. My sister is still screaming at me, and I wince as her already shrill voice increases by a few decibels.
“Don’t think you can come in here at the last minute and stick your nose in my business! Don’t think you can order me around and interfere with my choices like you give a fuck! Grayson has been there for me every single day, for years. I’m not throwing that away because you’re a bitter little bitch.”
I lift my hands into the air, and they float there in confusion and bewilderment. Although I know that my leaving was justified, I still feel terrible. I wonder for a moment if Grayson really can be healthier for my sister than I am. Is it possible that he is trying to be good to her to atone for what he did to me? Is this all part of some kind of twisted plan for redemption? I can’t imagine what an appalled and horrified look I must have on my face, because Carmen gasps and sobs.
“I’m sorry, Helen,” she says, placing my phone against the palm of my hand. I am relieved to feel that it is in one piece. “Just—stay out of it, okay? Grayson is my guy. I accept him for who he is. Please understand that.”
“But Carm—” I begin in protest.
“No. I won’t listen to any more of it. This is a seriously big and empty house, and I can’t be alone here for another day. The silence is deafening. Every little noise, every creak and sigh drives me insane.” She pauses. “But worse than that… my whole life is a big and empty house that people just walk in and out of as they please. No one stays with me. I need to start building a home where I feel welcome and wanted. I need to start building the foundation of my future. You understand that, don’t you? I’m much older than you, Helen. I can’t play games or life will pass me by. It’s time for me to move forward. Grayson treats me well. This is what I need.”
I stand in stunned silence as I allow her words to sink into my brain.
“Look. I need to get my makeup on,” Carmen says softly. “Can you please just be happy for me, little sister? Can you please just be supportive?”
“Carmen!” Grayson shouts from outside the room. “Please open the door, love. What’s going on? You never lock your door—I’m getting worried.”
“Excuse me,” Carmen says to me as she moves toward the door.
My legs feel like lead, and I remain rooted to the spot. Only when I hear Carmen unlocking her door do I realize that Grayson is about to enter the room. The thought of coming face-to-face with him sends a violent shiver through my body. There is a sharp pain in my shoulders and neck where all my muscles are clenched and bunched up tightly. For a moment, it is difficult to force myself to move, because my brain seems disconnected from the rest of me.
But then I hear his footstep.
I suddenly spring into motion as though he has set the ground beneath me on fire with his presence in the room. I can’t bear the thought of him looking at me, and I hope I can move quickly enough that he barely glimpses a flash of my hair disappearing. I find myself bolting back into the bathroom and ripping the door open to my bedroom. I need locked doors between me and that man. As many locked doors as possible. I know that they don’t offer complete protection, but they certainly help my anxiety. Once I have successfully barricaded every entrance, I move to grasp the post of my bed.
I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cool varnished wood.
With a sigh, I non-too-gently thump my forehead against the bedpost. “Why,” I grumble to myself blankly. “Why. Why. Why.” I don’t even have the energy to speak the word in the form of a question. The universe isn’t going to answer me; it doesn’t need to justify itself. It’s just having fun. I don’t think it even cares whether that fun is at my expense.
I fight the urge to lift my fist into the air and give God an excellen
t view of my middle finger. I have never been very religious, but for one single moment, I am almost completely certain that there must be one single, sick bastard responsible for this. I fight the urge to call him names, or ask why a few more dozen times.
I fight the urge to throw myself out of the second-story window.
An object vibrating in my hand startles me, and I jump and reflexively toss it away, as though stung by an insect. I then register the sound of ringing. My mind has been spinning so wildly that it takes me a moment to process that I am receiving a phone call. Why? I inwardly ask myself again. Even this phone call is too much to bear. I went so many days with zero contact from the outside world—so many weeks and months, with only the necessary communication for my job. Now, in one day, I am suddenly popular. I suddenly have to talk to people and touch them, and answer phone calls. It’s too much. It’s terrifying. But my phone continues to ring.
I fumble for the small device that I had dropped on my bed. Collecting it, I quickly answer it in a curt and businesslike voice. “Yes?”
“Helen! Sorry to call again so soon,” says the voice on the other end of the phone. “I am having a bit of a wardrobe crisis—I don’t go to special events very often. I thought I’d just ask to make sure. Do I wear a bow tie or a normal tie?”
My nose wrinkles with irritation. “Don’t bother,” I say in a dry tone.
“What?” Liam asks, sounding somewhat surprised. “What’s going on? Just a few minutes ago, you said…”
“Forget what I said!” I snap harshly. My entire face contorts with heat and rage. “Just—forget it. Don’t bother coming here.”
Clarity Page 11
