Shattered (Shattered Duet Book 1)

by Bry Ann

  So I’ll suck it up.

  Twenty minutes later, my table is filled with plates of baby carrots, popcorn, almonds, little sandwiches with avocado and shredded baby carrots (which is a stretch), and Twizzlers. Sage is under a big blanket, all tucked and curled up. I’m on the far end of the couch, as far from her as I can get, and the Notebook is on.

  Sage goes right for the weird-ass sandwiches.

  I go for the Twizzlers, which earns a dirty look from her, but she keeps her mouth shut.

  We get through twenty minutes of the movie — I repeat, twenty — before Sage’s little groaning noises get so loud they are impossible to ignore.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I pause the movie.

  “You really like this?”

  “I don’t like it. I thought you would.”

  “God, it’s so corny! If a guy hung off a Ferris wheel for me, I’d call the cops. It’s creepy.”

  “Well, there needs to be more girls like you.”

  She snickers. “Yeah, sure. Put on what you like.”

  “If we put on what I like, it’s gonna be The Fast and the Furious.”

  “Okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  So we do. And she loves it. She gets so into it. So much so that the food becomes secondary, which is probably good, because I don’t want her to throw up again.

  At the end of the movie, while I clean and she preps the couch for the night, she turns to me, jumping with excitement.

  “Can we watch the others tomorrow? Please!”

  “I have to work, but I’ll lay them all out for you.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Then it’s quiet. We wish each other good night, and I head for the room.

  I’m ready for some sleep. A little dose of reality. There’s been way too much happiness in this house tonight. It’s usually quiet and lonely. Filled with thoughts of what kind of atrocity I’m gonna feel no choice but to do for Aaron tomorrow.

  Then I hear it. A crash. Like things are being thrown around. Then the sounds of a very obvious panic attack.

  I knew it was coming. It was bound to. I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to see her hurting like this again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Where is it?” she shrieks, running around the living room, throwing things everywhere. “I… I have to go to the hospital right now! I have to. It can’t be gone.”

  “Sage,” I say calmly, running a hand through my messy hair. “Where’s what?”

  “My hippo!” she screams, eyes wide and glazed over with fear.

  Hippo? Right.

  “Hey, I have it. I grabbed your hippo and Kindle on the way out. Do you hear me? Come here. It’s in my room. I meant to bring it out. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “You have her,” she whimpers, nearly collapsing.

  “Yes, I’m sorry I forgot to give her back to you.”

  “It’s okay.” She sniffles, looking so young and broken it makes me hurt for her. “Can you get her?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be back, okay?”

  She nods, clutching her waist.

  I sprint to the room where I placed her important things, grab the hippo and Kindle, and run back out.

  She pads along the floor and grabs the hippo, pulling it into her body like it’s her life line.

  “I’m gonna put your Kindle on the table just in case. Okay?”

  “Nix, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. What’s your hippo’s name?”

  “I don’t have one yet, but I have an idea. I’m just… I feel stupid naming a stuffed animal. I’m seventeen. Eighteen in… I think the doctor said five months. I can’t be naming stuffed animals.”

  Geez, is she really eighteen in five months? Weird.

  “Why not?”

  “Cause it’s… it’s… I’m too old for that.”

  “Who cares?”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “It is.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  “Who’s gonna judge you?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Let me amend that then. Who’s gonna judge you that matters?”

  She hesitates. “Mom and Dad.”

  Ah. “Are they here?”

  “My dad will be tomorrow,” she grumbles.

  “Take your power back, brave girl. Name your damn hippo. What’s her name?”

  “I… um…”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Pamela,” she whispers.

  I feel something in me quiver. Like I’m sad. I haven’t felt real sadness in a very long time, before meeting Sage.

  “Great name,” I whisper. “If anyone judges you for that, their opinion doesn’t deserve to matter to you.”

  “So, you don’t think I’m losing my mind? I’m scared I’m gonna lose it.”

  “How about this? You do what feels right, and I’ll let you know if you’re losing your mind.”

  “Will you, though?”

  “Oh, absolutely. You’re too damn amusing to go crazy on me now.”

  “Okay, just… promise.”

  “You have my word, Sage. I won’t let you go crazy.”

  “Alright, well…” She winces. “Goodnight. Again. I won’t wake you this time.”

  “Wake me as much as you want. Try to sleep for me, yeah?”

  “Yeah, mm-hmm.”

  That’s a no.

  “You’re safe here, Sage. This place is pretty locked down.”

  “I noticed. It’s fine. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me anymore. It’s my mind I don’t trust. Nothing you can do about that. Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

  The way she says that is like she knows all I do. It’s like she knows I’m the bad guy who steals, cheats, lies, and kills. I stare at her for a long moment, trying to gather what she knows, but I get nothing but deep green eyes, daring me to try to read deeper.

  She wins, I lose.

  “Alright, night.”

  “Good night, Nix.”

  What Sage doesn’t know is that she’s the first person to wish me a good night.

  Ever.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  Ugh, fuck. Like every day, I’m not in the mood for it.

  I jump out of bed. Snooze is always a bad idea, though. The sound of a cabinet closing quietly has me immediately charging toward my door and reaching for one of my hidden guns.

  Then I feel my clothes. I’m fully dressed. For sleep?

  That’s when it hits me.

  Sage.

  And for reasons unbeknownst to me, I smile at that.

  Checking to be sure I’m absolutely fully covered, I say fuck it to my bedhead and go to the living room-kitchen area.

  I lean against the doorway and watch her. Her hair is tied in a knot on her head. Her shorts are tied on with a rubber band, along with a rubber band around my shirt to keep it at her hip. She’s frowning at the bowl in front of her like she finds it reprehensible.

  “Morning, Sage.”

  She jumps and spins, sending a lock of blackish-green hair to the front of her face.

  “Oh, hi.”

  She’s makeup-free, so it’s instantly obvious that Sage hasn’t slept. There are deep, blue-green circles under her eyes, only emphasized by her almost sickly pale skin.

  “Hi, Sage. How was your night?”

  “Boring. But it’s fine.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “Stare at my Kindle,” she mumbles.

  “No reading it, huh?”

  “I made you breakfast!” she announces with an obvious attempt at changing the subject. “It’s disgusting, and I’ve decided I hate cooking, but as a thank you for letting me stay here, I made you some food. It’s yogurt and almonds. You don’t have any sweetener. I’m sorry. I think most people like that in their yogurt.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  “Don’t be sorry around me.
Not for anything. Thank you very much.” I smile at her, noticing her trembling even though I know she wishes I didn’t. “I appreciate it.”

  That gets a smile out of her, followed by a yawn.

  “Your dad wants to stop by today,” I say tentatively, already knowing her reaction is going to be a negative one.

  “Fine,” she quips, turning away from me.

  “I told him how to get in.”

  She slams something on the counter. “Fucking fantastic. I’m changing. Don’t come in. Be safe at work, Nixon.”

  With that, she storms out.

  It’s not missed by me how she said to be safe at work, not to have a good day at work. I narrow my eyes at her retreating form.

  BAM!

  … and she slams the door.

  The next three days go very much like this. Her dad commits to visiting her every other day. She’s in this shitty of a mood every time. She barely speaks to him. They exchange pleasantries, according to Charles, but then she shuts down. He now thinks she needs a higher level of care, and I don’t know how to fucking tell him she’s not like that with me. Yet I still don’t disagree that she needs more help. Other than that, I work all day, doing things I’m not quite ready to reveal yet. She stays home and watches the movies I lay out for her. Then she cleans. And cooks. She’s bored. She’s tired. And her lack of sleep is starting to hit her.

  It’s the third day that I genuinely wonder if I should send her home or somewhere against her wishes. She has to sleep. She made me promise not to let her go crazy, and, well, she’s struggling.

  “No TV today?” I ask after getting changed and meeting her in the living room. She’s in the quiet, fiddling with her Kindle with Pamela, the hippo, tucked into her side. It’s amazing how fast I’ve adapted to naming the hippo. I guess it helps when you fully understand why someone does something.

  “No, no TV,” she whispers.

  “Sage, I’m getting worried.”

  “Please, I can’t. Not today, okay?”

  I nod at that. “Okay. Wanna do something?”

  “I shouldn’t be so scared.”

  “Of what, doll?”

  “Reading.”

  I jump on that. “Explain that to me.”

  I take a seat next to her, noticing she barely reacts to me now, which is huge.

  “I… Sage is safe right now. Far away. What if I bring her out… and… and she gets hurt again? I’ll lose her forever and break my promise to Pamela.”

  “What promise was that? You’ve hinted at it, but why don’t you tell me.”

  “Nix, please.” Her lower lip starts to tremble violently.

  “You can fall apart, Sage. Nothing’s gonna happen if you do. It’ll help, brave girl.”

  “I won’t stop. If I… if I start, I’ll never stop crying.”

  “I promise that’s not true,” I say softly. “Sage, I promise. It may take a while, but the pain will pass. You are strong. I promise. I so promise.”

  Her nails dig into her calves and she starts to rock back and forth.

  “Please, stop.” Her eyes squeeze shut. “She’s got to stay away. She has to. Please understand.”

  “Sage, open your eyes. Come on. Your mind will hurt you if you close them. Look at me. Come on.”

  She’s not listening. Fuck, how can I get her to get out of the flashback she’s headed toward?

  “Sage, my bracelets,” I say quickly. “What’s your favorite?”

  She stops. I have her.

  “Sage, what’s your favorite bracelet? You have to look at me to tell me.”

  One at a time, she peels her eyes open. They are swollen, red rimmed, and etched with the darkest circles I’ve seen.

  “I don’t… have one,” she whispers. “They’re all cool.”

  “Good girl. Can you keep your eyes there for me?”

  Without letting herself look up at me ,and keeping her eyes trained on my wrist, she nods.

  “Good. Now tell me, doll, what did you promise Pamela?”

  The tears in her eyes quiver along with her lip. “She made me pr-promise Sage wouldn’t go away too far. That — that…” She wipes a stray tear. “That no matter what, I could always reach her. That I’d really get free. That’s why I have to find Tammy, or Essie, whatever her real name is. I have to help her keep her promise. I know she wants to. She loved Pam like me. It was just… too much.”

  I want to know how Pamela died, but I know that would be too much for Sage right now.

  “Thank you for telling me that.” I purposely keep my tone gentle. She nods, still staring rigidly at my bracelets, trying so damn hard not to fall apart.

  “Sage, if you cry, if you don’t wanna ever stop, I won’t let you crumble. You know that, right?”

  She keeps fighting, even harder now.

  “I’m not… anything anymore.”

  … and then she just… breaks.

  Shatters.

  Shatters.

  Broken pieces sliding to my floor in a ball.

  I slide to the floor with her.

  “Come here, come here. I got you.”

  I scoot over and let my presence offer her some kind of comfort. I don’t want to touch her and scare her, but she can’t hear me right now to let her know my touch is only meant to offer comfort.

  As soon as I’m right next to her, she plops her head onto my shoulder, wraps her pinky finger around my bracelets, uses her other hand to grab the hippo and squeezes tight to the limited things that make her feel safe.

  Strong.

  Brave.

  Resilient.

  I know she’s that. I knew it all along.

  “It’s not okay. I won’t say that, ya know?” I whisper.

  She nods against me, still shaking and crying.

  “I feel so disgusting,” she mumbles in muffled words. “I hate myself. I don’t want to bring Sage back into this body. I don’t. She’ll… she’ll hurt so much.”

  I squeeze my eyes. Being raised by a now-convicted serial killer and an abusive mother doesn’t prepare you for this. I’ve never had to… care for someone before. Never once. I’ve never been cared about and never had to care. Caring, so far, has only hindered me. So I really don’t know how to handle the rush of feelings washing over me.

  “I don’t want you to hurt,” I whisper.

  I stroke the back of her head.

  “Can you go to bed now? I need some time alone. To think,” she murmurs.

  “Will you be safe?”

  “Yes,” she responds immediately. “I promise.”

  “Sage, it’ll crush me if you hurt yourself.”

  “I won’t. I just wanna be ugly for a little while. I wanna be ugly all alone.”

  … and I get that. A lot of people would fight her on it, given her current condition, but, call me crazy, I get what she’s saying. I slowly pull away from her, making sure she’s steady first.

  “Got Pamela?”

  “I got her.” She squeezes her once for emphasis.

  “Can I help you onto the couch?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I extend my hand and wait for her to take it. When her tiny, cold fingers land in my palm, I quickly pull her up to the couch. Then I just look at her, somehow not seeing the broken pieces. I don’t see the scars or the tears or the big, dark circles. I just see a girl fighting to find herself again after so many people tried so damn hard to break her.

  They failed. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  “You’re hurt,” she whispers.

  I look down to see a huge gash running down my forearm.

  “Must have snagged it on something,” I mumble. Which is a lie. I hurt it doing shit for my father.

  She glares at me. “I’m not stupid, Nix. Let me get ice.”

  “No!” I say firmly. “Absolutely not. You go be ugly. I’ll shower. It’s no big deal. Blood washes right off.”

  “But it needs—”

  I hold up a hand. “It needs you to take care of yo
urself.”

  “But what about you?”

  I freeze. Those words have never been uttered by anyone. Ever.

  “I don’t need anything.” Or anyone.

  “Everyone needs something.”

  “You’re right. I need you to feel better. Good night, Sage.”

  She doesn’t say anything back. Frowning, she curls up in the blankets, preparing for another night of not sleeping. I head to bed to let her ‘be ugly’. Cause she’s already given me more than I deserve. The good is easy to give, but the bad, the ugly, no one realizes those are the true gifts. Those show you have a person’s complete trust.

  And as completely pussy as it is to say this, I hate that she didn’t wish me goodnight. Because that little boy in me wants all the compassion I can get. But she noticed a stupid fucking cut. Was so damn insistent I take care of it, to the point where she didn’t say good night. She got stubborn, meaning she’s pissed. At me. For not letting her care.

  And, well, I sleep the most restlessly I have in years, torn from hearing the pain in her tears, and reveling in the feeling of someone giving a shit if I bleed.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  Another day. Except this time, I shoot out of bed and run to the living room. I couldn’t check on Sage last night without offending her. Without losing a little piece of her trust I’m not willing to sacrifice.

  “Sage, you ok—”

  My words are cut off by the sight in front of me. By the slight curling of my lips. Cause, see, Sage is there, Kindle in her nearly open right hand, which is dangling off the side of the couch. Her torso is smashed between two cushions on the back of the couch with her hair spread everywhere and her mouth slightly open, comatose. Her legs are on the ground, she’s slanted, with her arms out wide on each side of her.

  She’s sleeping.

  Finally.

  As gently as I can, I pull the covers over her body and smile. I want to move her to a more comfortable position but I won’t risk the chance of her waking. Of her losing one second of the rare moments she sleeps.

  So I work around it.

  I fixed her blanket.

  I add another.

  I move a pillow by her arm so she maybe reaches for it in her sleep and props her head up.