Unlocked: Sweet Demands Trilogy #3

by A. E. Murphy

  I frown with disbelief. “I do?”

  “You haven’t let me go the past three nights,” he says, kissing my hand again. “I didn’t mind. It was nice to feel needed and wanted. Especially by Miss Frosty herself.”

  “I’m not frosty.” I look down at the toes of my shoes and pull my leg up to do my loosening lace.

  I’m shocked when he places his hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze. “We’re okay?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I asked if we’re okay. All jokes aside, you seem… off and not just because you’re ill.”

  “I’m fine,” I respond robotically. “I’m just drained.”

  “I really think you should see a doctor.”

  I snarl at him, my eyes wide. “Just leave it already! I’m sick of fucking hearing about it. I’m fine! Maybe you’re the one with the problem.”

  He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and I see a muscle tick in his jaw. He’s mad but he’s not replying. Part of me wishes he would so we could get into a screaming match and then I could break up with him.

  Is that what I want?

  Do I want to leave him?

  A week ago, I was certain I was so in love with him it’d burn my heart with the intensity and the heat.

  Now…

  I don’t even know anymore.

  We finish the journey in silence and eat our lunch in near silence, though I mostly prod mine with a fork. I’m just not hungry. I’ll eat food because I have to, not because I want to, so I do take a few bites but it tastes like ash in my mouth.

  Lockhart doesn’t comment despite the fact I know he wants to.

  It’s not like him to rein in his temper, though he did say he was trying to be different with me. Not that it matters now.

  Now that I’m broken.

  I give it a few days of my attitude before he gives up.

  “We’re going to my parent’s this weekend,” he declares out of the blue.

  “I have a gig on Saturday night.”

  “We’ll be back in time for you to get ready for your gig.”

  I nod, because at this point I can’t do much else.

  He places his hand on my thigh, making me jump. “My parents really like you, Cerise. A lot.”

  “And?”

  “I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “I’ve never been the kind to seek the approval of others, Tobias.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Yay.”

  That same muscle ticks in his jaw but again he doesn’t say anything. I’m going to have to push him harder if I want to get a reaction from him.

  “I won’t leave you alone this time, at the after party on Saturday.”

  This time I roll my eyes. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

  Or at least I could before I met him.

  “I’m just trying to…”

  “Well don’t! I’m not mad that you left me! Did I ever say I was mad? It’s like you want me to be mad. I’m not, so get fucking over it!”

  “You’re starting to piss me off,” he admits. “So I’m going to drop you off at home, give you some space and hope you’ll cheer the fuck up.”

  I flip him the bird, hating my irrational anger and bating of him.

  “Really mature.”

  Kai hands me the bowl of popcorn. I take a few kernels and hold them, tasting one on the tip of my tongue before popping it into my mouth and chewing. We’re watching an action movie. He makes funny commentary like he always does and I’m not laughing.

  Why am I not laughing?

  Am I truly so broken that I find nothing funny?

  It doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “Are you both ready for the gig on Saturday?” Dane asks, looking up from his phone. He’s been staring at that thing since he got home two hours ago. “You’ve not been practising. In fact, I haven’t seen you at the studio at all since last week.”

  “Poorly.” I raise my hand.

  “Busy, but I’m going in tomorrow.”

  “You coming too?” Dane asks me.

  I shake my head. “I shouldn’t overdo it. I’m worried I’ll relapse.”

  “You played through an entire set the other week with a fever over forty…”

  Shrugging, I stretch and then curl up into a protective ball in the corner of the couch. “Maybe that’s why I’m so poorly this week.”

  “Yeah right,” Dane snaps, glaring at me, his fiery eyes catching the light of his phone in the dark. “Something happened to you that night. I’ve never seen you like that. Ever.”

  “What night?” Kai asks cautiously, glancing between us both.

  I can’t deny it but I can’t talk about it either. It’s too humiliating and it’s so unfair. Why did it happen?

  Why to me?

  What was he thinking?

  I remember him apologising, saying how he didn’t mean for it to happen. Then why the fuck did it?

  “Halloween. I found her sitting outside in the hall, a complete fucking mess.”

  “Stop,” I snap. “Nothing happened. I was really drunk, I lost Lockhart, I came home pissed off, I got ill and I wallowed.” I stand to run from their probing gazes. “And now I’m going to bed.”

  “Cerise,” Kai whines. “Don’t be like that.”

  I ignore him, enter my room, slam the door and lock it. The second it shuts I open my mouth in a silent scream and drop onto my knees.

  “Get yourself together,” I hiss at my knees. “Get yourself together!”

  I just need to move on.

  That’s all.

  Just stop thinking about it and move on.

  It’s got to be easier than I’m making it. So many other women have had it worse than me and probably pulled their shit together more easily. I’m being dramatic. I’m being obsessive.

  I just have to move on.

  Just move on.

  “Move on,” I hiss, pinching my thigh and twisting so hard the pain is all I can focus on. It helps. Just a little. Not much, but it still helps.

  “Can I borrow your car today?” I ask Lockhart, surprised to see that he’s come home at all after how I treated him yesterday. “If you’re not using it, of course?”

  “Sure. We should look at getting you your own car.” He kisses my forehead tenderly, but that slightest touch makes me tense.

  I keep chanting in my mind the same thing I chanted for the majority of the night last night as I lay there staring at the ceiling.

  Just move on.

  Just move on.

  Just move on.

  “I’ll just use yours; you have thirty of the bloody things.”

  “I have four, not thirty.”

  I smile feebly and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. He smells good, like fresh linen.

  Fresh linen. I couldn’t breathe.

  Fresh linen.

  My stomach painfully lurches as I try to stop myself from throwing up. It doesn’t work. I’m over the bin and vomiting into the crackling black bin bag before I can form rational thought. What little breakfast I ate comes straight back up.

  “That’s it, I’m taking you to the doctor,” Lockhart states, rubbing my back.

  I bat him away, tensing with every jump of my stomach trying to expel the memory with the lining of it’s walls. “Stop touching me!”

  “What’s up?” Kai yawns, coming into the kitchen just as I’m righting myself.

  I rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth and Lockhart follows hot on my heels.

  “Stop hovering around me, damn it,” I snap, slamming the door in his face and leaning over the basin.

  “I’m just trying to help you.”

  “Then leave me alone!” I yell back and scrub my teeth and gums with my tooth brush so hard it aches.

  “I don’t know, man.” Kai shakes his head, his tone hushed, as he looks at me with guilty eyes. “Ask her yourself.”

  Lockhart doesn’t look at me. He walks into the bedroom
and nods for me to follow him.

  Before he can start an argument, I blurt, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep… I’m being awful. I know.”

  “There’s something wrong with us,” he hisses, slamming my bedroom door. That poor door has been abused a lot lately. “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re crying in your sleep; you’re vomiting daily…” his eyes widen and he takes a step back, his features set with surprise. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No! I’m not bloody pregnant,” I yell, annoyed that he even came to that conclusion. “I’m just run down, tired, depressed or something. Just go. I’m being awful to you, so why are you still here?”

  “Because that’s exactly what you want.” He looks around my room as though searching for answers. He’ll not find them in here, in my safe space. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re suffering. Why can’t you confide in me?”

  “There’s nothing to confide. I’m fine, my life is great!” As I say it, my lower lip trembles. “I just need a break today from everyone and everything. Okay? I need space.”

  “That’s why you want a car? For space? Are you prone to bouts of depression like this? Should I invest in a psychologist?”

  Sitting on my bed, I lean back on my elbows and shake my head. “No. Just give me time. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  He nods and pulls out his phone. “You can have the car but we’ll have to drive to the office first. Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  No.

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  “Need a lift?” Lockhart offers to Kai when we step out of my room, hand in hand.

  “I’m cool. I’m just going to chill here today.” Kai winks at me and adds, “Chill out, chicken, it’s only a commercial.”

  My lips twitch and his face falls when he realises that’s all he’s getting from me. I’m affecting everyone around me. I’m hurting them all.

  Fuck.

  This isn’t what I want. This was never what I wanted.

  I don’t want them to feel pain because of me.

  There’s nothing more humiliating then having to sneak into a sexual health clinic through the back door because you don’t want anybody to see you. I just had to admit for the first time that I’m too famous for the masses. The nurse I spoke to was so understanding; I hope it stays that way.

  I’m ushered into a stale room with a green bed and a matching chair by a desk and left alone for twenty minutes. Folders, tubes, books and gadgets line the shelves on the wall behind it. An ancient computer sits on it, its bulky head emitting a strange buzzing sound that sounds similar to bees in a glass jar.

  “Miss Branch,” the nurse says quietly as she steps into the room, looking at a box in her hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and to be your nurse today.” She motions for me to sit so I stop chewing on the skin around my nails and take the seat.

  “Forgive me if I’m not my usual chipper self; it’s nothing personal.”

  “Don’t apologise,” she says softly, kindly, her eyes full of compassion and warmth.

  “Don’t be nice to me,” I mutter, looking away. “I just can’t take it today.”

  She stares at me for a long moment, taking in my face, my posture, judging me all the while, trying to figure out what my secret is.

  “I’ll be as stoic as my usual chipper self will allow.” She clears her throat and pulls her chair on wheels to the front of mine. “So, I have to clarify, and I know it’s stupid because why else would you be here, but you want the full whack testing, yes?”

  I nod, keeping my shame-filled eyes on the ground.

  “Okay, it’ll be a blood test, though the results won’t be back for a few weeks.”

  At that admission my head whips up. “No.” I panic. “I need to know now. I can’t sit and wait for weeks. I can hardly handle hours right now.”

  “I understand, trust me, I do. I’ve been sitting in that seat myself.”

  “No, really you don’t, nobody… nobody gets it. I need to be tested and I need the results today.”

  “Ms Branch,” she takes my hands in her gloved ones, “calm down. Look at me.”

  “I can’t. I can’t look at anyone. Not when you have pity in your eyes.” I yank my hands away and roll up my sleeve. “Please, just, stop trying to relate to me. Jab me with the needle and get me my results. I’ll pay… Whatever you want.”

  It’s not until she hands me a tissue that I realise I have tears streaming down my face. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll use what few favours I have left in this place to see if I can fast track your results, but you have to get it off your chest.”

  “You can’t make me do that.”

  “I know.” She leans back and her gaze is now stern, like my mother’s when I’m doing something wrong. “But I can see you’re drowning here. You need to talk.”

  “I need to know if I’m diseased or pregnant.”

  “Well we can test you for pregnancy now using a kit we have…”

  “It’s too soon. It hasn’t been a week yet; it has to be blood.”

  She rubs her gloved hands on her thighs and asks me straight, “Have you been assaulted?”

  My dry throat tries to swallow. “Will you just jab me?”

  “I’m completely confidential. You can tell me.”

  “Stop,” I beg, clenching my hands into fists. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Sighing, she nods and prepares the needle and my arm, then I watch as my liquid life empties into thin, transparent, sterile bottles. “I see girls like you come and go all the time. Too frightened to speak, too embarrassed, too hurt.” She presses the part where the needle enters my skin with her finger and unclips my arm with her free hand. Then she pulls the needle out, drops it in a yellow box with her gloves and gives me a cotton bud to hold until she can tape it onto the wound. “It breaks my heart every time to see you suffer and to see those bastards that did this get away with it. You’re not alone.”

  I don’t say anything; my façade is crumbling. I’m going to break down if I don’t get out of here.

  “I’m going to get the doctor to prescribe you some anxiety meds. Your blood pressure is way too high and you need to eat. You’re dehydrated. I can see it in the cracks around your lips.”

  Again, I look away, ashamed that I can’t even take care of my own body.

  “The meds will help, okay? Take one daily and book an appointment with your GP. You need to see somebody or you’ll just keep on drowning. There are support groups you can attend, anonymous ones.”

  Yeah, right, like I could just waltz into one of those now.

  “Also you’ll need to do another pregnancy test if your blood results come back negative. They aren’t the most accurate when it’s been less than a week, even though they are more accurate than a home kit.”

  She leaves and then she comes back with the prescription and continues her speech on birth control and protection. She even gives me some condoms, as is policy. I doubt they’d have helped me that night when he penetrated my body with his stumpy, fat penis.

  I’m going to be sick again.

  “I’m so sorry that this is happening to you and I’m hoping for the best. Please don’t worry, okay?”

  “Too late.” I smile solemnly and she leads me back the way I came in. Back out into the cold. Alone. With nobody who will ever know about what happened.

  Maybe I should have talked to her, but I don’t know her. What if she sells my story? It happens all the time in this industry.

  Lockhart: Dinner date tonight?

  My immediate instincts beg me to say no but I have to make an effort if I’m going to forget about this. I have to play normal. Or I at least have to give it my best shot.

  Cerise: Sure :)

  I just need to distract myself until my results come back negative and then I can move on with my life properly. That’s all. Just four weeks maximum. That’s what she said. No longe
r than four weeks. If I get past that I’ll be fine.

  I will be fine.

  “You will be fine.” I say to myself and pull over outside a local patisserie. “You’re fine and you’re having cake. You need the calories.” Then I laugh a little. “And you’re talking to yourself. You’re going crazy.”

  I spy the green prescription on the passenger seat and stuff it into my pocket.

  One a day and all of my emotions will hopefully go away.

  I write that down as a song lyric. Now there’s a therapeutic thought, me and my keyboard and a few blank music sheets.

  With cake.

  Definitely with cake.

  For the first time since that night I feel a little bit better and feel a little more hopeful about the future. Maybe I actually can get through this.

  “What’s in the bag?” Lockhart asks, grinning and pulling me into his arms.

  “Cake.”

  “You and your cake.”

  “I like cake. You’re in a really good mood.” I smile and know that the medication I’m taking is working already.

  It’s strong, really strong, in a good way.

  I want to take it forever.

  “Is that okay?” He chuckles, biting on my lower lip. I pull away and move around the car to put the cake in the boot. “Actually, I have some decent news.”

  “Go on.” I smile and again it’s a genuine one. It’s weak but it’s there and it makes me feel tingly and warmer than I’ve felt in days.

  “Thatcher has agreed to be a silent partner after my father and I spent the past two hours putting our difficult past to rest.”

  And just like that my good mood has gone.

  “That’s…” I pinch my leg and twist, likely leaving another bruise to go with the other one. “I’m happy for you.”

  “It’s entirely unexpected. We’ve had bad blood for so long.” He smiles a genuine smile and I know he must be so relieved. “He signed the contracts just twenty minutes ago and has agreed to remain impartial so long as he gets his cut.”

  I shake my head to clear it and clench my hands into fists to stop them from trembling near violently.