Duplicity

by Kristina M Sanchez

  In the car, hiding her head in Dana’s hair, Lilith tried to stop her world from spinning out of control.

  The word victim had been bandied about again. Lilith still hated that word. It made her feel weak. It made her feel less. That word made her testimony for the prosecution as difficult as the cross examination for the defense.

  Lilith was beginning to accept that victim was a label that had been thrust upon her without her consent. Mr. Harper had made her a victim when he took advantage of a child’s trust. She’d been a victim of her father’s negligence, and of Frank’s sense of entitlement.

  Once she had accepted those things had happened to her, it was easier to see what she’d missed before. She wasn’t fine. She was far from fine. She had just as many issues as Mal and Dana; they had just manifested in a different way. Somewhere along the line, she had retreated so far into her head it was difficult to stay present in reality.

  After she’d given in to her father’s request to come home, it became clear there was something very wrong with her. It was one thing when she spaced out in the middle of a group of Mal and Dana’s friends but quite another when she did it around her family. Her father and stepmother were trying to rewrite their relationship with her, trying to make amends for all the misconceptions and judgments of the past, but Lilith’s complete inability to have a conversation tried their patience.

  This was the crux of most of her problems. Holding down a job, going to school . . . it all took concentration. Among the litany of things Lilith had to relearn—how to be a good sister, daughter, friend— was how to be present for more than a few seconds at a time.

  The first semester she went back to school, she’d started with four classes. In the first week, it had become clear she couldn’t handle even that much, and so she had to cut back to two. Her father had gotten her a data entry job at his company, but she’d lost it because she couldn’t keep up with the workload. Since then, she’d gotten a student job in the bookstore of the community college. Most of her duties related to stocking and straightening, neither of which took much concentration. She was free to space out all she wanted as long as she kept her hands moving.

  It wasn’t so long after she got out of the hospital that her apathy faded and the anger was back with a vengeance. Struggling with simple things left Lilith frustrated and bitter. She lashed out at her parents, her little brother, Mal and Dana . . .

  And Trey.

  Trey was simultaneously one of the best parts of her life and one of the most infuriating. Whenever she threw a tantrum aimed in his direction, he would smile and nod and make her want to call him an arrogant asshole. Either because he knew it irritated the hell out of her or because she needed to hear it, he always went psych mode after she’d run out of steam. He knew why anger was her constant companion.

  “Anyone would choose anger over fear.”

  “Fuck you. Why would I be afraid?”

  “Because there’s too much at stake, and that’s scary.” He’d reached for her, pulling her into a hug as he spoke. “This is you. You’ve always expected that your family, your friends would reject the real you. If they do, it will hurt more because they won’t be rejecting whatever fantasy you created, they’ll be rejecting who you are.” He tilted her head up, not letting her look away. “And you know exactly what that feels like.”

  She’d turned her head out of his grasp. “You think you know everything,” she’d muttered, but his words had hit home.

  Truth and trust were precious commodities, and it had been a long time since she’d given either freely. It was unnerving sometimes how much Trey saw. It always made her feel naked. Vulnerable.

  But Trey’s eyes that saw too much were nothing compared to the eyes of the jury, the courtroom, watching her give her testimony. Though it was hard to admit, Lilith understood that Trey saw too much of her because he cared enough to observe. Having to give these people, these strangers, pieces of herself was a special kind of hell.

  The prosecutors of Frank’s case were trying to hold him responsible for his share of Lilith’s physical and mental suffering. It wasn’t going to give her back what he’d taken: her peace of mind, her belief that she was safe because she could protect herself under the right circumstances. But walking out of that courtroom, not even anger could overcome her innate, if irrational, terror that she stood to lose everything.

  Trey was right. Her life, what little of it she’d managed to gather, was precious to her. Some days she was just waiting for the bastard kid from Identity to pop out at her, ready to destroy what she’d begun to build. Why should she get a second chance? The thought of losing it had her frozen with fear. Her chest constricted, her throat was tight.

  “Just keep breathing,” Dana whispered to her. “It will get better. It will get easier.”

  Lilith bristled, but it occurred to her that Dana had become the voice of experience. Her friend knew what it was like to have to put so much of herself out there. So did Mal. That was part of the process of getting better, and for once, they knew more than Lilith did.

  They were working on talking Lilith into getting professional therapy, but she wasn’t quite there yet.

  She concentrated on Dana’s soft words, letting her lead, and Mal’s hand rubbing gentle circles against her back.

  The worst that could happen was Frank walking free, she reminded herself. After a thorough investigation, she had been cleared of any wrongdoing. No charges would be brought against her.

  One way or another, the verdict in Frank’s trial would not—could not—destroy the life she was building piece by piece. It didn’t matter who she had been—she was the only one in control of who she was becoming.

  By the time they got home, the world wasn’t spinning quite so crazily. She felt a little better when she got in the door and Aiden hugged her—no hint of his usual teenage snark present. Like her father, Delilah hugged her tight and told her she was proud.

  Then Trey was there, holding his hand out. When she took it, he pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms and swaying them back and forth, his lips warm against her hair.

  Right then, Lilith was kicking herself for making him stay out of the courtroom. It had been a power play. She’d been frustrated when they all pressured her to let him pay for an attorney. Sexual assault cases were notorious for being difficult to prosecute. Not only was Frank rich—his attorney would be brutal, no doubt—but Lilith had sex for money. Being realistic, the jury’s first inclination would be to disbelieve the assault was his fault. She needed a good lawyer’s clever arguments; she needed someone just as brutal as Frank would hire.

  No one wanted to see him go unpunished for what he’d done, and Lilith had accepted Trey’s offer on the condition he would stay away today. When she was in his arms, she could admit to herself she’d needed him, his steadfastness, since she’d been called to the stand.

  Somewhere along the line, Trey had become essential to her. She’d known for a long while now she should stop fighting it. Not all change was so bad. He was the first one she wanted to turn to when something happened, big or small. She’d never struggled to talk to him the way she struggled with everyone else.

  Either way, a hug from Trey did wonders to soothe the intrinsic fear that had her still shaking.

  The rest of that day and the next, as they waited for a verdict, her friends and family rarely left her side. Lilith recognized she was being very clingy with Trey. She didn’t let go of his hand if she could help it, but as crazy as it made her feel, she couldn’t deny she needed it. She needed him.

  She was getting better at asking for and taking the things she needed.

  When the verdict came in, Lilith was sandwiched between Trey and her father. She was squeezing the crap out of Trey’s fingers, but he didn’t complain.

  Her father exhaled in a gust. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  When he turned to her, he was smiling, and she knew what he was going to say.

  “Guilty.
”

  ~0~

  Trey looked bemused when Lilith hung up the phone.

  “What?” she asked, a little defensive.

  “You don’t need to tell them all that when you call in sick to work, you know.” He tickled her sides, teasing her. “You have sick time. All you have to do is say you’re feeling under the weather and leave it at that.”

  Lilith grimaced.

  It was still second nature for her to spin tales under certain circumstances, especially when she felt she was doing something wrong. She wasn’t sick, but Trey had talked her into taking a mental health day—or to be more accurate, a mental health afternoon since she worked part-time. When she called in, she’d found herself babbling a much more elaborate excuse than was necessary.

  She sat next to him on the sofa, nestling up close with her head on his shoulder. “I bruise pretty easily. When I was in high school, I made up this whole . . . thing. I said the doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with me. They were always doing blood work—which was true, but it was because they had me on an acne medication that necessitated checking once a month to make sure my kidneys were still working right—but I told all my teachers it was because they were trying to figure out why I was always tired.” She smirked. “I used to use it as an excuse to get out of class early and go lay down in the journalism room.”

  “You were in journalism?”

  Trust Trey to pick up on that one factoid out of her whole story.

  “Does that surprise you? It’s just another extension of liking other people’s stories.” She picked up his hand, playing with his fingers. “And I was Entertainment Editor my junior and senior year, which meant I got advance screening tickets to movies so I could review them. It was great.”

  He hummed. “And you don’t want to be a journalist? Maybe a movie critic?”

  The corners of her mouth bent upward, and she lifted her head. “I don’t think so. I hate deadlines.” She pressed her lips together, hesitating a moment before she continued. “I was thinking maybe I want to work at a daycare. Little kids wandering around. I think I could talk to little kids.” She tried to smile. “I have the same attention span, after all. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

  She’d changed her mind about what she might want to do at least a dozen times since she’d started to allow herself think about the rest of her life. Nothing was a perfect fit, but then, life wasn’t supposed to be a perfect fit.

  “I think if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” He paused. “Do you want kids?”

  Lilith’s stomach flip-flopped. She squirmed. “I don’t . . . I don’t know.”

  She struggled to wrap her head around the idea of what she wanted her life to look like five years from now. She wasn’t capable yet of dealing with a concept as irrevocable as a child.

  “Take it easy, Lil.” Trey rubbed her shoulders. “It was just a random question.”

  Trey was as insatiable as ever with his inquisitiveness.

  Tilting her head up, Lilith snarled at him. He grinned, placing his fingers beneath her chin to keep her from looking down. He kissed her, the movement languid. She sighed, melting against him. Her heart pounded harder. A warm, pleased feeling rose in her, making her feel as light as a balloon.

  As ridiculous as it seemed sometimes, this was new to her . . . to both of them.

  Lilith wasn’t a complete idiot. Part of her understood Trey had looked at her like this, like he wanted something more than friendship, for a long time. In the beginning, though, she wasn’t ready to hear him say it. She’d had to learn how to be a friend to more than just Mal and Dana before she could consider anything else.

  It was only in the last few months she let herself begin to acknowledge what she felt for him. They had been sitting side by side on the couch just like this, just talking. Teasing. It was one of those moments, those perfect moments she’d only read about or seen on TV, where she realized he was close, so close, and his warmth pulled her in. She’d closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss without thinking about it, and when she pulled away, what they were to each other had changed.

  They were going slow, at a glacial pace, but Trey didn’t seem to mind. They were both busy people. She had a whole life to plan and for him, grad school was a demanding mistress. After that first kiss, there wasn’t much difference in the way they interacted. There were more kisses involved, more cuddling.

  Slow.

  Trey pulled back just enough, resting his forehead against hers. He stroked her cheeks, traced the line of her nose, his eyes intent as he studied her features. She felt giddy and shy. When they were together like this, there was always a ridiculous little smile playing at her lips. It was the strangest feeling. She felt so dumb, and yet . . .

  Bliss. That’s what she felt. Dumb and blissful.

  Happy.

  Over and over he told her how beautiful she was. Some days he would take her to his bed and spend hours just talking about her body. She was surprised how difficult it was to hear such compliments, how hard they were to accept as truth. Sometimes she argued, but she was beginning to see herself through his eyes.

  She was beginning to feel not only connected to him but connected to her own body, herself.

  And when his hands began to wander, brushing down her side, more often than not she felt a stirring deep inside her. An ache. A want.

  He didn’t push. He never pushed.

  Well, this time, she was going to push.

  Anxiety twisted in her gut. It annoyed her. Why on earth should she feel so nervous? She was no virgin.

  Ignoring her trembling hand, Lilith tilted her head up, catching his lips again as her fingers moved from his thigh to brush between his legs.

  Trey moaned into her mouth and pulled back, catching her by the wrist to still her questing fingers.

  She’d been expecting this, so Lilith pushed away the innate sense of rejection, waiting for him to say his typical line. She could see desire in his eyes. She knew, in her heart of hearts, he’d wanted this longer than she had.

  When he spoke, his voice was a rasp. “Why do you want this?”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to take things further. This was the third time he’d had to ask her the very same question.

  Sex was what she was used to, what she was good at. So often in her life now, she felt out of control. The first time, she’d tried to grasp for the certainty sex offered. Trey was safe, and she’d just wanted to feel sure of herself for once.

  Another time, the answer had been because she wanted him to feel good. It struck her sometimes how very good he was to her. He was patient and kind. He pushed her when she needed to be pushed and sidestepped a lot of the bullshit she laid down. She was so grateful, but she didn’t know how to show it. Sex was what she was used to, what she was comfortable with. She had so little to give, but her sexuality was something she knew could benefit him. It had before.

  Both times, he’d stopped her with that question, and though it hadn’t been easy either time, in the end she understood. He was being a good friend.

  A good boyfriend.

  Lilith cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. “I want you.” She kissed him again. “I want you because . . . I love you.”

  They were frightening words to think. The thought had occurred to her more than once in the last few months. She’d been freaked out to the point of nausea when it first occurred to her she might love him.

  In the end, saying the words wasn’t scary at all, especially not when he froze and gasped. He stared.

  And then his face lit up in the most beatific grin.

  His kiss was voracious, and she giggled into his mouth. “Say it again.” His voice was a rumble against her lips.

  “I love you.”

  She was horizontal on the couch in a heartbeat, his body pressing against hers. Then it was Lilith’s turn to gasp because holy hell . . .

  His body was poised between her legs so that when they moved, when he
bucked his hips against her, it caused the sweetest friction.

  Lilith had put together that what she was missing from sex was the emotion. The biology of her body worked. She could be stimulated, aroused, but the pleasure of sex was in the emotional attachment. She was so far removed from reality, she was there in body but not in spirit.

  Now, her body and her mind were both very present, and sex—even the idea of sex—was a whole new ballgame. She was so far out of her league. She was . . . Well, she may as well have been a virgin for the way her heart was trying to pound its way out of her ribcage.

  Taking a shaky breath, she opened her eyes. Trey was staring, the expression on his face so tender Lilith’s heart ached. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

  His simple, honest words soothed her nerves, and it didn’t matter how inexperienced she felt. He loved her, and he would be good to her. Their every action together was an expression of that emotion.

  The giddy mood between them turned heavier but not in a bad way. It was a serious kind of mood, intense. Overwhelming.

  Wrapped in his arms, Lilith wasn’t scared.

  He traced the tip of her nose with one finger. “If we do this . . .” He looked into her eyes, taking her hand and squeezing. “You understand I want more.”

  Lilith swallowed down the lump in her throat. “That’s what I want, too.” She was surer of that single fact than she was of almost anything else in her life. She had no real idea what she wanted to be, where she wanted to go, if she wanted kids or not, but she was sure she wanted Trey by her side as she figured out the answers to all his questions.

  His smile was gentle. “Are you ready for this?”

  Part of her wanted to deflect with a joke. She could choose to take his words for their more risqué meaning, but she knew that wasn’t what he was asking. “I don’t know,” she answered. She was a mess. She knew this. “But I want to try.”