Unraveled (Twisted Series)

by Dani Matthews

  His eyes meet mine. “I promise, Blayre.”

  My eyes search his and I find what I'm looking for because I believe him. “Okay. My aunt and uncle are really religious, which you are aware of right?”

  “Yes.”

  “According to them, I am possessed by a demon and I deliberately set that fire with the intent to kill my parents,” I say in a flat rush as I cross my arms over my chest, anxious to get this conversation over with now that it's began.

  Noah stares at me for a long moment as my words finally begin to sink into his consciousness. I swear he loses some color in his face. “They said that to you?”

  I laugh bitterly and reach a hand up, rubbing my temple as I meet his gaze. “They said it to me daily once Tate left. They always treated me differently than him, but when Tate was around, they acted like they loved me as much as they loved him but I always knew better. It started after Tate graduated and moved away.”

  “What started?” he asks softly, his eyes focused intently on my lips.

  “The abuse.”

  Noah's lips part and he blinks before his eyes jerk to mine briefly. “Abuse? Physical abuse or are you talking emotional?”

  “Both.”

  His eyes shut briefly and I see that he's struggling with what I am telling him. Finally, his eyes open and his dark eyes are grim. “Go on. Please.”

  “At first it was the emotional stuff. I wasn't worthy of God's grace and all that shit. They told me I was a bad person and was undeserving of love and forgiveness. You know how preteens are, they get mouthy and I was thirteen at the time when it started. I mouthed back and instead of seeing a preteen girl, they saw a demon possessing a girl. They started to punish me at that point to get their point across. I wasn't allowed to do anything after school and it was my duty to do all the chores in the house.”

  My eyes shift from his face when I see how pale his face has become. He can still read my lips but I can't look at him anymore. “I wasn't allowed to eat unless I was finished with my chores and there were a lot of times I lost out on meals. If I mouthed off or did something wrong, they would physically hurt me.”

  “How?” I hear Noah ask hoarsely.

  “Steve liked using his belt and fists. I still have a few faint scars on my back from when he came at me too hard with the belt. Julie was a slapper or she'd grab something and hit me with it.” I feel sick and hollow sharing all this with him and I finally fall silent, staring down at my hands. I just want to disappear. These are things I've never said out loud before. Voicing them and admitting my shame to Noah is harder than I could have ever imagined it to be.

  “Didn't anyone ever figure out what they were doing?” Noah asks incredulously.

  Reluctantly, I meet his dark and brooding gaze. “No. They always hit me where it wouldn't be seen. I tried to tell someone once...the school counselor but she didn't believe me. My aunt and uncle were really religious and everyone considered them freaks, but no one could evidently believe that they would deliberately physically abuse a child.”

  “Why didn't you go to Tate? He would have gotten you out of there in a heartbeat.”

  “Honestly, I don't know. I just lived with it and then I got used to it.”

  “Like you got used to Cole abusing you,” Noah says with dawning realization. “For God's sake, you don't have a clue what a normal relationship is like, do you? All you know is pain, abuse and neglect.”

  I flinch at his words.

  “Shit. I'm sorry, Blayre. I'm just—things are starting to make sense now. I'm sorry if I sound like a complete ass, but...damn.”

  I hate that he knows these things about me but I force myself to continue with the conversation. “Now do you see why Tate can't know?”

  “It would kill him, you're right,” he agrees. “All this time he thought he was doing what's best for you and if he...” His voice trails off and he draws in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “Someday he needs to know these things but for now, I won't say a word to him about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  His eyes search mine intently. “They are why you cut, isn't it? Is it punishment, Blayre?”

  “It's...I don't know how to explain it,” I say softly as my wary eyes bounce away from his probing gaze.

  “Then do the best you can. I need to know.”

  “Why? Why does it even matter?” I ask as I look at him again.

  “Because you matter.”

  There it is again, that odd feeling of excitement that he cares and then guilt mixes with it, tainting what I feel because I know he shouldn't feel that way towards me. I slide further back in my chair, wishing I could retreat into the house. Instead, I lift my hands and rub my face warily as I try to ignore what he just said.

  “You don't like that I care about you, do you? You always get this weird look in your eyes, like you're about to panic or bolt.”

  My hands drop as my eyes lift to his. “I'm messed up, Noah. I admit it. I'm twisted up in so many ways inside. You don't want to care about someone like me.”

  A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Is this coming from you or are these your aunt and uncle's words?”

  “Mine.”

  “You have a lot going on right now, Blayre. I believe your emotions are a mess and I believe you're confused about what you want because you've been brainwashed to some extent when it comes to what you feel and how you see yourself. I think with time, things will start making sense and you'll come to understand yourself a little better.”

  My eyes drop to my hands again.

  “And they are wrong. No one is ever beyond forgiveness or love. You deserve it just as much as the next person.”

  I can't say anything and my lips clamp tightly together. It's weird hearing him say these things to me but in reality they don't really touch me emotionally like they should. They just bounce off an imaginary brick wall because I still don't believe I am worthy of anything he has to offer me.

  “Will you tell me why you cut yourself?” Noah asks, his tone now deliberately light.

  “It's complicating,” I say slowly and I make sure he can see my lips, but my eyes refuse to meet his. “The only time I ever felt any real emotion with my aunt and uncle was when they hurt me. Extreme emotion blended with pain, and when I am overly emotional to where I can't...handle the emotions, I feel the need to cut. It makes me feel better,” I say awkwardly and I secretly wonder if what I do disgusts him. I've never seen an ounce of disgust or judgment on his face or in his eyes, but that didn't mean he doesn't feel it.

  “Do you see it as a way of punishing yourself?”

  For a long minute I don't say anything as I struggle with his question. Truthfully, this is something that I've known all along, though I've never ever come right out and admitted it to myself. There was a part of me that felt I deserved the pain as payment for my parents’ deaths.

  “Yes,” I whisper as I stare moodily at the table, refusing to look at him.

  Noah is silent for so long that I dare to meet his gaze and I am horrified to find that his brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he gazes at me.

  This is what I've feared all along. Seeing his horror and pity when he looks at me. The last thing I want to be is the pathetic girl he feels sorry for.

  I bolt from the table and rush inside, well aware that Noah is coming after me. I take the stairs two at a time because I can hear his heavy footsteps behind me and they have me racing down the hall towards my bedroom. I'm just inside the door and trying to slam it shut when Noah catches up, his broad shoulder getting in the way as he grabs my arms, forcing me to face him.

  Angry tears fill my eyes as I look up at him accusingly. “I don't want your pity!”

  “It's not pity, Blayre. It's called caring for someone and feeling their pain as your own,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “You are the strongest person I know, there is no pity when I look at you.”

  I recoil in his arms. “That's bull!”

  His grip is firm on
my upper arms and he refuses to let me go. “You have been through years of hell and here you stand, your head held high. Every day has got to be a damned struggle for you and yet you do it. That's strength, Blayre. Strength I admire.”

  I shake my head adamantly. “No.”

  Noah releases me but his hands quickly reach up to my face where they rest gently on either side of my face, his eyes searching mine. “You are not the weak girl that they wanted you to be. They didn't break you.”

  “Yes, they did!” I shout back, jerking my face out of his hands. “I'm so twisted inside that I don't know if I'm coming or going anymore! I can't even make sense of what I feel half the time, it's just a jumbled mess!”

  “Which is why you need help,” he says gently.

  I go completely still at his words.

  “You need help undoing everything they've done to you. These aren't things that are going to get better on their own. You need professional help. I see the real 'you' in there but she's trapped by all this bullshit that your aunt and uncle built. There are professionals out there who can see you through this, Blayre, if you'll let them.”

  “You make me sound crazy.”

  “You're not crazy!” he says fiercely. “I care about you more than anyone I've ever cared about in my life. I want to see you get better so you can learn to enjoy what life has to offer. What I have to offer you!”

  My fists clench at my sides and I can feel my nails digging into my skin. Somehow I manage to pull myself together and I look at him calmly. “So you're suggesting a counselor. Like what we did tonight?”

  “No,” he says as he studies me intently. “It's going to take more than that. Do you realize that your cutting is an addiction? You've been doing it too long to stop on your own. One counseling session a week isn't going to do any good.”

  “I see, so now you're an expert on cutting?” I ask sarcastically.

  “No. I want to help you so I've been doing a lot of research. It's not just the addiction, it's the five years of abuse thrown in. You've been through too much.”

  “You want me locked up,” I realize with dawning horror as I stare at him accusingly.

  “Not locked up, Blayre. You'd have the ability to sign yourself out since you are eighteen. I think it would be good for you to enter a rehabilitation facility where you can get the help you need—”

  “Screw you, Noah!” I yell furiously as I back away from him. “Oh wait, I almost did that already, didn't I? So one night of almost sex and suddenly you know me better than myself? Suddenly you're all knowing as to what I should be doing with my life because it's your job to fix it? Go to hell!”

  Noah closes his eyes and his head drops with defeat. “I handled this all wrong.” I make a move to walk past him because I need to get away and put some distance between us but his hand shoots out. He grabs my arm, his brown eyes troubled. “I can't force you to get help. I get that. You have to be the one to want it. I just want to help you and I feel completely helpless.”

  “I don't need or want rehabilitation. I'm moving on with my life and I can get better on my own.” There is no way I am going to sign myself into some freak hospital where they could drug me up and pick my brains.

  Noah studies me for a long moment. “Are we okay or did I just undo everything we just accomplished earlier this evening?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Do I look serious?”

  Yeah, he does. “You're worried I'm going to hold a grudge?”

  “Yes.”

  “I'm...no,” I mutter. “You're impossible to stay mad at.” I'd been furious a few minutes ago but the fact that he's concerned I am upset with him has my heart melting a little bit.

  Noah slowly relaxes. “Okay. I think we better call it quits for the night.”

  “I think so too.”

  “Blayre?”

  “Yeah?” I ask warily.

  “I dredged up a lot of stuff tonight. Will you please promise me you won't do anything to yourself?” he asks with troubled eyes.

  I purse my lips and refuse to say anything.

  Noah's jaw clenches. “Good night, Blayre,” he says softly before he turns and walks out of my bedroom.

  The second he disappears, I walk calmly to my door and shut it firmly before locking it.

  Feeling drained, angry and confused, I walk over to the corner of my room and kneel down to where the carpet is a little loose. I take out the small blade I'd pulled out of a cheap razor the other day and walk back to my bed where I sit down. All the cheap shavers I'd had are gone and Noah had replaced them with an electric shaver last week. I'd been annoyed but in reality, he couldn't stop me from what I needed.

  I grab some tissue from within my nightstand and set it on my bed before wiggling out of my shorts.

  ***

  The next day pretty much goes the same as the one before it. Cole doesn't approach me and I focus my attention on school. When I get home, I once again set up my homework at the kitchen table and I can tell my brother is pleased that I am sticking around the house and no longer going out with Cole.

  As I work on my homework after Tate leaves, my mind shifts every so often to Noah and our conversation last night. Not that I'd ever admit it to him but he did have a point. Cutting wasn't something I was going to be able to stop on my own. I've relied on it too long. I've also known for a while that I am seriously messed up and I have no idea how to get better. I know I'm taking a step in the right direction because unloading some of my stuff on Noah last night had made me feel slightly better this morning when I'd woken up. I was able to look at things with a fresh perspective.

  It feels good to know that someone knows my secret. Before, the idea has always frightened me but now that I no longer have to hide it from Noah, I feel better. I also realize that he only wants to help. For some strange reason, the man cares about me. I have no idea what I've done to earn someone like him in my life but I guess it's meant to be. Now that he knows most of the bad things about me and hasn't run off yet, I feel good about our friendship.

  Just as long as he quits with this rehabilitation stuff. I am not signing up for that crap. If I do anything, it would be maybe a counseling session here and there. That's all I'm willing to do in order to start getting better. At least that way I have more control over the situation. I could literally walk out the door whenever I want. No matter what Noah says, if I chose rehab and decide I've had enough and want out, I wouldn't be able to walk straight out of there. There'd be people there to try to talk me out of it and they'd be pushy and determined.

  I'm still working on homework when I hear Noah come home. He walks through the garage door with his backpack slung over his shoulder and he smiles warmly when he sees me. “Hey.”

  I smile back as if yesterday's outburst in my bedroom never happened. “Hey back.”

  He walks over and unzips his backpack before pulling out a Styrofoam take-out container. “I wouldn't want you to starve while I work tonight.”

  Whatever it is, it smells wonderful. I lift the lid and take in the big fat juicy burger with a side order of fries that he'd obviously picked up from Soloman's on his way home. I look up at him with a huge grin. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  “I'm doing a bit of groveling.”

  “Groveling?”

  “Yeah,” he says as his eyes meet mine. “Last night I was pushing what I want for you and it wasn't right.”

  “Thanks,” I say softly.

  “I need to hit the shower before work. Text me tonight if you need anything, okay?” He hesitates as if he has something else on his mind he wants to say.

  “Just say it,” I say as I steal a fry and pop it in my mouth.

  “If you find yourself thinking about Cole, text me instead. He's bad news, Blayre.”

  “Will do,” I say lightly.

  Relief flickers in his gaze before he turns and heads for the hallway.

  A couple of hours later my cell phone chimes on the table next to my arm, sta
rtling me. A smile curves my lips as I pick it up. Noah's checking up on me already.

  I scan the new message and freeze. COLE: Meet me tonight?

  My teeth sink into my lower lip as I stare at the little screen. Someone is obviously done being mad. I miss Cole but I'm also realizing I've managed to get through the past few days without him because I knew Noah would be here.

  Noah.

  With the press of a button, I shut my phone off and calmly set it on the table. It's time to start making the right choices and Cole's definitely not a part of that category. I turn back to my homework but my concentration is shot.

  I sigh loudly in the empty kitchen and my eyes fall on the pool outside the patio doors. Soon the temperatures would be dropping and it'd be too chilly out to swim since the pool wasn't heated. An evening swim sounded absolutely wonderful and I had a brand new bikini waiting for me upstairs.

  Shame

  Dishonor fills those who leave themselves in

  situations they should not

  Cole corners me at my locker the next morning and I'm hit with a barrage of emotions. There's still a part of me that wants to move right into his arms where I feel like I belong.

  No. That's not right.

  I don't belong there. It's where I'm most comfortable because it's my excuse to hide.

  “You didn't answer my text last night,” Cole says as he frowns at me as if nothing had happened earlier this week.

  I avoid looking at him as I open my locker and unzip my backpack, shoving my books inside that I wouldn't need until later in the day. “I was busy.”

  “Busy doing what?”

  “Homework for one. I've skipped too much.”

  “You're still mad,” he says.

  Now I turn and give him a cool look. “Did you think I wouldn't be?”

  His green eyes search mine. “C'mon, Blayre. It's in the past, time to move on.”

  “That's it?” I ask with amazement. “We had a few days of space and that fixed it?”

  “What is up with you?”

  My mouth opens and I am ready to unleash my desire to break up when it dawns on me that school is probably the worst place for this to go down at. We need to talk in private, especially since we have the robbery secret hanging over our heads. “Can you stop by later? I think we have some things to sort out.”