Secrets & Lies 7: The Ferro Family

by H. M. Ward

  Scott looks away, and clears his throat. “You would never have known if not for her.” Scott sneers triumphantly. “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it? You spoiled fuck. You had everything, and it still wasn’t enough. You got off light that night.”

  Josh's entire body starts to shake. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Scott holds his head high. “You deserved it, prick. You’re a spoiled, rich asshole. You would have raped someone eventually.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have! What the hell is wrong with you?” I find myself yelling, fighting for Josh. “Just because the guy came from a house with cash, doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

  “They all turn out the same in the end. Privilege makes them think they can take and take, without any penalty, ever. Well, I made sure he felt every bit as miserable as Carter did.” Scott laughs and shakes his head, before turning back to his painting.

  Josh moves closer to Scott, arms lashed with corded muscles ready to fight. “You fucking asshole. I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing. There’s no proof except the word of a slut who’s been fucking the faculty. Good luck with that.” Scott is utterly calm, with a lazy, triumphant smile on his face.

  Josh is ready to take a swing, when I stop him. I grab him by the elbow and step between them, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Can you say that again? It’d be better with video.”

  Scott blanches. “You recorded me?”

  “You’re a sketchy guy, Scott.” I back away from him, holding up my phone—which is now recording video, as well as sound. “I’d be an idiot to walk in here, accuse you, and not record it. I’m not that dumb.”

  Scott rushes toward me, hand outstretched, ready to take the phone from me. Josh rushes him and lets out a slew of swears as his fists collide with Scott’s side. I leave the recorder running, and stuff the phone back into my pocket. I look around for my bag, ready to grab my can of pepper spray when I realize it’s still in the other classroom.

  Just when I glance at Josh to see if he can hold his own for a second while I grab it, I scream. Scott has something silver in his hand, and as he slashes across Josh’s chest, there’s suddenly way too much blood. Josh crumbles to the floor like a wet rag doll.

  Scott smiles at me. “You’re next, honey.”

  “You’re crazy.” I back away from him, from the shining blade in his hand. It looks like a box cutter, the kind they use to open the art supplies and cut canvas.

  “No, I’m a man with a plan. And for every good plan, there’s always a backup plan.” He glances at his red painting and then at me. “How hard would it be for people to believe you went completely unhinged and killed Josh before killing yourself? Not too hard. You’ve left a trail of crazy so thick even the blind can see it. But, one thing that will give it a convincing finishing touch is your final painting.”

  “What are you talking about?” I inch back toward the door, ready to bolt. Josh needs help before he bleeds out and dies on the floor.

  “You had all that drama with your mother stealing your first boyfriend, and then you became a slut. Your behavior was so erratic, so completely unhinged that this last part will stun everyone into silence. Come here, Kerry. I have a blank canvas for you. It’ll be your final work before you die, and one of the most evocative suicide notes ever created. You’ll be famous in a deranged kind of way, but isn’t that what all artists want? To be recognized?”

  His voice is level and unafraid. I race toward the door, but Scott blocks it and grabs me by the neck. He drags me across the room, my arms ripping at his grip on my neck. I slip in Josh’s blood and smear it across the floor. He shoves me into an easel and commands, “Grab that blank canvas and put it on the easel.”

  I do it, shaking so hard I nearly drop the thing. “Scott, you’re not like this. You don’t want to do this.” I try to talk him out of it, but I’m trembling so hard I can barely speak. It feels like time slowed to a chokingly unhurried speed. As my eyes sweep the room looking for a way out, any means to call for help, I come up empty. Josh is going to die, and when they find my dead body next to his, everyone will think I did it. It’ll kill Beth. And Nate… I never got to apologize. I never got a chance to tell him I love him. Tears sting my eyes and roll down my cheeks even though I wish they wouldn’t. I wanted to be strong, to be fearless but I’m not. At my core, I’m a coward.

  Fingers covered in red paint snap in front of my face. “Kerry, move or I’ll make you.”

  Reality cracks back into focus making me sick. My stomach churns nervously, threatening to spew its contents. Every hair on my body is on end, and my muscles are screaming to run or fight. Standing here frozen, doing nothing, goes against their wishes and the tiny jerky movements I make aren’t part of the plan. Scott grips my arm and shoves me toward the blank canvases.

  “Take one,” he growls.

  I place my hand in a vertical slot between the cabinets that holds unused canvases and pull one out. The bumpy texture of the weave of the fabric feels like needles in the pads of my fingers. My heart slams into my ribs rapidly and rings in my ears. I pull out the blank painting and put it where he wants.

  Without warning, Scott breaks a glass that was holding dirty paintbrushes. The sound makes me jump, and it’s not until I see the shard of glass and his hand coming at me that I realize what he’s doing. I turn to run and take off for the door. My hand is on the knob, but as soon as I yank the door open, it's slammed shut and I’m shoved against it.

  Back to Scott, he pins me in place and hisses in my ear, “I would have been quick about it, after all, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but fuck that.”

  He jerks my wrists and whirls me around, then ties them together in front of me. “What are you doing?” My voice is strained, so choked I can barely hear it.

  Scott reaches for the broken piece of glass he laid on the counter, but this time he doesn’t release me. When he has it in hand, he comes at me, jabbing the shard at my face. I flinch expecting to feel pain in my eyes, but that’s not what happens. For a moment there’s nothing and then a warm drip on my cheek followed by searing pain. I scream. It’s not weak or barely audible. It’s a high-pitched, dog-deafening, glass-shattering screech. Surprise flashes in Scotts eyes. He mutters as he grabs a rag and shoves it in my mouth, silencing me.

  I can’t breathe like this. I go to spit it out, but he warns me, “I swear to God, I’ll tape your mouth shut and make things a lot worse if you make a fucking sound.”

  With that, he grabs my hand and slashes the piece of glass across my fingertips. Bright red blood rises up on each one then rolls down my hand, into my palm. Scott pulls my arm toward the canvas and puts my finger on the fabric.

  He tells me what to write and when I don’t move, I feel a piece of glass at my side. He’s behind me, towering over me, pressing the shard to my side. “Do you want me to push it inside? I can think of worse places, locations no one will think to look. Since you’re a total slut, you might like that. Maybe I’ll save that for last.”

  My hand shakes as I start writing things I’d never say, admitting to acts I’d never do. The last few words are horrible, followed by the meanest possible thing I could say to my mother. I’d never tell her that. I’d never hurt her like this. Fight back! Move your legs, whirl around and kick him in the nuts. Don’t just stand there and die. Not like this. Not while hurting everyone you love. Move, Kerry!

  As I start to scrawl GOOD-BYE in blood, I hastily change it to SCOT before he pulls me back. I fall to the floor with a thump, leaving a bloody handprint, and spit the rag out of my mouth. I scream again and finally find the power to fight back. I push up and ram him, my skull directly into his junk. He thought I was going to tackle him, so he wasn’t ready for the impact so low. Scott falls back, and we slide across the floor into the bank of cabinets under the windows. He manages to throw me to the side while spewing curses at me.

  I flounder on my side and reach for a cabinet, and pull the door open. I p
ull Scott to me, his head anyway, and slam the door. Hard. He screeches as blood rolls down his temple. I spring upright and race toward the door again, but I don’t make it. He trips me and grabs me by the ankles, pulling me back toward him.

  I’m going to die. Squirming doesn’t help. Screaming does nothing. There’s no one here. We both know that. I have no pepper spray, no weapons. Scott sits on me, breathing hard, dripping blood onto me. “You stupid bitch. I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you wish you were dead, and, before long, you’ll be begging me to finish it and end you.”

  The world is a blurry mix of tears and blood blurring the shadows and light, making everything murky. The only clear thing I’m certain of is the form looming behind Scott. A man with a strong body and a fist wound up and aimed at the side of Scott’s head. There’s no sound for a moment except an audible hiss followed by the crack of bone breaking. Scott falls forward and is shoved aside.

  Then Nate is there, leaning in close with his cell phone to his ear. He speaks frantically, saying something about bodies and blood. My head feels warm and heavy. Sleep paws at me, and my eyelids don’t want to stay open. His voice cuts through the mental fog looming thickly over me.

  “Kerry, stay with me. Don’t go, Kerry.”

  The world fades away, and I feel warm and safe. I won’t die alone. The room shrinks to a pinprick of light. I hear nothing but the distant echo of Nate’s voice before I’m shrouded in silence.

  CHAPTER 15

  Warmth and darkness wouldn’t seem like they walk hand in hand, but even though I can’t see a thing, I’m not afraid. I have no idea where I am. I hear a high-pitched, irritating sound that makes my skin crawl. I try to tune it out, but it won’t stop. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

  I grimace as pain rushes through my face and down my neck, spreading into my back and legs. The twin slashes on my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. A matching sensation comes from the fingertips of my left hand. I groan and then hear the annoying sound again, followed by the most wonderful, deep, rich voice.

  “She’s waking up.” Nate’s hope is palpable. He’s close. I can sense him.

  When my eyelashes part, I squint. The room is filled with sunlight, and it’s not until that moment that I feel how much I hurt. I gasp, throat desert dry, and tap at my neck to ask for water.

  “You want a drink?” Nate asks and turns toward the nightstand and hands me a cup with a straw in it. He puts it against my lips, and when the cool water rushes down my throat, I realize how badly it was burning. When I stop, Nate pulls the cup away and puts it back in its place.

  I blink at him slowly. “Are you mad?” The words are garbled and sound like they came from an old hag.

  He’s there, holding his hand to my forehead, pushing my hair gently off my face, smiling down at me like I’m the most beautiful perfect woman he’s ever seen. His eyes are glassy as he shakes his head, “No, not at all. I didn’t think you were going to wake up. You hit your head really hard. God, Kerry…” His voice trails off as he lowers his face toward mine and sucks in a shaky breath.

  I glance past him and see people in the hallway, nurses and doctors, my mother, and Beth. I startle and try to sit up, but instantly regret it. My side feels like it split open. I press my fingers to it and feel stitches. “What’s this?”

  “He stabbed you. I don’t know if you didn’t feel it, but you kept fighting. When I found you, there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead. I thought I'd lost you forever.” He touches my face gently and bites his lips together to keep from saying more.

  “You saved me?”

  He nods slowly.

  I glance at the people standing worried in the hallway, heads down and arms folded close to their bodies. One person is missing. “Where’s Josh?”

  “He’s okay,” Nate speaks slowly. “They got to him just in time. He’s recovering. Let me call the doctors in to look you over, okay. You’ve been asleep for a few days.”

  “Days?” I question. As Nate walks away, I realize there’s something I need to say before I lose the chance. “I love you. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  Nate stops and turns to me. His eyes are puffy, lined with dark circles. He’s not shaved for days, so dark scruff lines his cheeks making his eyes seem bright blue. His shirt collar is unbuttoned, and the fabric is wrinkled. When he walks back toward me, he stoops over and gets close to my face, close enough to kiss me. “No, I’m sorry. For everything. Beth told me about Ferro and everything you did for me. Kerry, I’m such an asshole. I had no idea you—”

  “Beth told you?” When I squeak out her name, it’s like a summons because she suddenly appears.

  “She’s awake!” Beth rushes to the side of the bed and throws her arms around me in a huge hug.

  Nate slips away, while doctors, friends, and family surround me. They fill me in, explaining what happened after I blacked out. Josh will be okay. He lost a lot of blood, but they were able to save him. He’s down the hall from me. Jace lingers in the window and inclines his head when my eyes meet his, before heading back down the hall. He’ll tell his brother. They’ll be all right.

  I ask Beth, “Did Josh tell you? He didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t do it, Beth.”

  She smiles softly at me with true happiness in her eyes. “I know.” Her voice is tight, filled with liquid emotion threatening to spill everywhere. “I’ve never felt so unbalanced in my life. Too much really great news with too much really bad news nearly made me lose it. But you’re safe now. Josh gets a chance to start over, and so do you.”

  The nurses clear the room, and I’m alone for a moment. There’s one person who remains, lingering in the hallway. She has yet to say anything to me. “Mom.” I croak out her name, and her eyes meet mine through the windowpane.

  I wave her over. Mom looks as bad as I feel. Her emotions are barely in check, and she’s shaking. Her lower lip quivers and she breaks down. “I’m so sorry, baby.” She's standing there ready to leave, expecting me to throw her out.

  If I’ve learned anything from this it’s that life is too short and I won’t always get a chance to make amends. This time, I do. This time is up to me. “Me too, Mom.” I hold my arms up to her like I did when I was a little girl, and she breaks down, rushing to me and wrapping me in a classic mom hug. She kisses my forehead and strokes my hair. She mutters apologies and worries, twisting them together until they’re the same thing.

  She says, “I thought we could work it out. I thought I’d lose you for a little while, but when they called and said what happened—oh, Kerry! And the message written on that painting,” she pulls back and looks me in the eyes, “I don’t want that to be what you think of me, not ever. I broke it off with Matt. I choose you, and always will.”

  Considering they’re the words I’ve wanted to hear, I'm surprised when they suddenly ring hollow. “Mom, please don’t date any of my boyfriends from here on out. But, if you love Matt, and he loves you, I’m not going to behave like an ass anymore. It’s awkward, but one day it won’t be. If it’s a forever thing, I love you, and I’ll deal with it.” I shrug and sniffle.

  Mom is either in shock, or petrified. Her lips twitch, shifting between a smile and a frown. Then she starts bawling and holds me. After promising no more Matt again, she says, “I couldn’t have dreamed of a daughter like you. You’re everything I wish I could be, times ten. I’m proud of you, Kerry.”

  I’m not an idiot. I know my parents won’t be the same after that, but the fact that Mom put me first doesn’t go unnoticed. Daddy watches her like she was someone he knew from long ago, someone who slipped between his fingers. They pass each other without a word, regret in their eyes. Daddy smiles at me, and we talk until I’m too tired to stay awake.

  The next few days pass by like that—with visits from everyone, even Josh—but Nate doesn’t come by again. It's like he vanished, and it kills me. I thought we fixed things, but I guess not.

  After I’m discharged, my parents want to take me home. I don’t protest. It
’s nearly the end of the semester, and there’s no real reason to stay. With Chelsey and Kevin's help, they pack my room for me and load my new belongings into the family van.

  Nate doesn’t call or text. If I leave now, I’ll never see him again. I pluck my phone from my pocket and text him:

  THANK YOU. FOR EVERYTHING.

  CHAPTER 16

  I’m back in New Jersey amongst my people in the land of the highly opinionated, where chivalry is long dead. I admit it—I miss Texas. I miss the way the men hold doors open for ladies. I miss the slower pace of life, where not everything is dictated by a clock.

  Healing sucks. I’ve spent weeks on the couch, watching TV, waiting to heal. I’m not good at sitting still. It gives me too much to think about. Just when I’m about to go totally nuts with boredom, my mother drives me to an office complex. It’s gray brick, one story, and in the uglyass quadrant of town.

  Mom pushes through a glass door and flicks on the lights as I hobble in behind her. We’re in the middle of an unfinished office space with concrete floors and no ceiling. Fluorescent light fixtures flicker from the bare beams overhead. The walls are bare, and the room is filled with blank canvases of all sizes displayed on easels. In the center of the room, an artist's stool stands side by side with a padded chair on casters and a big, comfy cushion. On a small table next to the chair rests a box of paints overflowing with too many tubes of color to count. A new pallet is balanced precariously to the right, and, to the left, brush bristles peek over the top of a glass.

  Mom holds out her hands in a tah-dah pose. “You still have a few more weeks of minimal movement. Your father and I thought you’d go stir crazy soon, though, so we came up with this. I hope it's all right?” She’s worried I don’t like it.

  I admit, I’m stunned. It’s beyond thoughtful, and it’s fully stocked. “Mom, this is amazing. It’s beyond all right. It’s awesome! And fully stocked.” I walk over to the paints and lift a tube. “This is the good brand. My god, do you know how much this cost?”