Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  His sigh was heavy. “Please don’t shut yourself off, Alicia. All you have to do is say you want me to stay at home tonight, and it’s done. I can cancel it with a single phone call.”

  What would it be like, she wondered, to have your heart set on something you’d fantasized about, to have it within your reach, only for it to drift away again? Fuck, who was she kidding, she didn’t need to imagine it—she was living through it right now.

  But somewhere outside the walls of this fancy house, there was a woman with a dream who actually had the opportunity to make it come true. Alicia didn’t have any right to destroy that dream, even if she didn’t understand the reasons behind it. Even if the one making that fantasy come alive had possession of her heart.

  Like she’d said to him, she’d disrupted his life, his social calendar, and upended his entire world. Atticus had set everything aside for a whole week to take care of her, but it was about time she learned to function by herself.

  Already shrinking back into the dark where she belonged, she gave him a smile that didn’t feel as bright as it should. From the look in his eyes, he could tell she was lying—to herself as much as him. “She deserves her happiness, doesn’t she? I won’t ruin that for her, or for you.”

  “Fuck.” The washcloth slapped into the water.

  Alicia closed her eyes and blocked him out. Bit by bit, she tuned the room out the way she’d taught herself when junkies came around for a hit, or her parents argued to the point of violence. When that violence erupted into sex that was more like two fighting cats.

  Atticus spoke to her, the words little more than a buzz in her ears as she forced herself to ignore them. She didn’t move when he grasped her face in both of his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  What would she have done if he’d kissed her on the lips? Would the deep ache of betrayal ripped out the foundations of her existence, reducing her to a sobbing, idiotic mess?

  She had a horrible feeling the answer was yes.

  In the end, he left her. The security of his presence weakened, then disappeared altogether, and she was alone in the cooling water. The tears waited silently, ready to fall whenever she relaxed her guard, but she kept a tight hold on them. Shedding more of the damn things over this wouldn’t solve anything, so she reeled them in until the burn in her throat lessened.

  Honestly, she couldn’t even say he was cheating on her. They’d shared a few kisses that made her head spin around and her spine tingle, but he hadn’t professed his love for her. They hadn’t done anything remotely sexual that would chain him to her.

  So what if she’d told him she wanted him? A man like Atticus was so far above her, he was unattainable. Maybe she suited his needs—his Daddy needs—because she was broken. Maybe she was nothing more than a living, breathing doll for him to tend.

  Fuck, that one hurt. It sliced into her heart and left her bleeding out.

  She laid there in the water until it was cold and her teeth began to chatter. Blowing out a sad breath, she finally finished the job he’d started, using the cloth to clean between her thighs where the worst of the mess stained her. Was it too much to hope this wasn’t normal, that she might go to sleep while her heart pumped every last drop of blood in her body out of that place between her legs?

  Morbid, sure, but she’d heard it was a quiet, peaceful death.

  Just go to sleep and not wake up.

  That would be best for everyone. Her sister would be free of any obligations, Atticus and Connie could go about their lives without worrying about the cripple cluttering their schedules. They’d forget about her after a while—she was, after all, the forgettable type.

  Alicia rinsed the cloth out and laid it over the edge of the tub. Pulled the plug and watched the water and the last dying bubbles swirl away down the drain.

  Great, now she was stuck. She didn’t know how to use the bath chair, and her goddamn wheelchair was in the room next door. If she was sensible, she’d call for Atticus to help her out of the now empty bath, but her voice…her voice was gone.

  Using the pitiful strength in her arms, she gripped the porcelain edges and heaved herself up high enough to balance herself on the rim. Knowing it was going to hurt, she dragged herself over until gravity stepped in and pulled her the rest of the way, landing heavily on the damp tiles.

  Ow.

  With the breath knocked out of her, she laid there shivering for a few moments, then gritted her teeth and inched her way across the floor to the towel rack, reaching up to snag the big towel. It was warm when she draped it over herself, and she was too exhausted to go any further.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been cold and naked.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Atticus’ voice boomed in her head like a firework. “Jesus, do you not have more sense than this? Why didn’t you shout for me? You could have seriously hurt yourself!” White Knight Daddy to the rescue. “Are you injured, Lisha? Tell me where it hurts.”

  He’d make a good Daddy for someone, she thought as he cradled her in his arms—towel and all—and swept her away. He was attentive and kind, firm but not cruel, even when he spanked a butt.

  “Talk to me, princess.” He stretched her out on the bed, using the towel to dry her pebbled skin as he checked her for wounds.

  There were none visible, she knew. The worst ones were on the inside, refusing to go into the vault so she could batter them into submission and lock them in. The few bruises she picked up from the fall weren’t worth mentioning.

  Alicia stayed in her private place, sheltering in the shadows as Atticus continued to lecture her, asking why the hell she hadn’t put more hot water in the tub, why hadn’t she called for him, why hadn’t she depended on him.

  The answer was horrible. It would hurt him as much as it destroyed her.

  Because the trust I had in you is gone.

  Atticus stroked his hand over her head in the way she loved. It sent warmth shimmering down her spine, made her feel cherished until she realized it wasn’t real.

  Her dreams didn’t come true.

  Her happiness wasn’t deserved.

  “Connie’s ten minutes away.” He walked away to the dresser and pawed through the clothes he’d bought her. “She’s excited to see you.”

  Turning onto her side, Alicia huddled into herself, reaching out for Mr. Bear and tugging him into the protection of her arms. The black fog was everywhere now, and if she couldn’t save herself from it, she would shelter him as best she could.

  She refused to cooperate when Atticus tried to bundle her into the nightshirt in his hands. Her body wouldn’t work, wouldn’t unfold from its defensive position. His frustration was tangible, his exasperation thicker than air, but neither had the power to breach the fog.

  Staring mindlessly at the pattern on the bedspread, she squeezed and released the plush body of Mr. Bear as a reminder he was still there. She barely registered Atticus’ curse, or the tenderness of his touch as he lifted her head to place a pillow beneath her. The warmth of the blanket he draped over her meant nothing—she was frozen inside.

  Time continued on its linear journey.

  “Oh, baby, what did they do to you?” Another familiar voice, softer than Daddy’s, whispered through the fog. Strained with unshed tears. “They took your hair. Why the hell would anyone do that?”

  Because when someone with long hair didn’t wash it, when they were denied the right to a shower and a hairbrush, that hair became greasy and matted. A rope used to drag a useless body along dirty carpets so she could be laughed at and ridiculed.

  Because when insects and dirt provided a higher percentage of that matting than actual hair, and orderlies were too lazy to fix what they’d done, it was easier to pin her down and shear her like a sheep.

  Because when someone was less than human, who cared what was done to her?

  “Is she putting on weight, Att? I’ve never seen her this thin, even after we collected her from the hospital. This kind of body score is
dangerously low. She needs building up, she needs regular—”

  “Breathe, Connie. Alicia’s eating, little and often. I make sure of it. She’s gaining it back, but it’s a long process. All we can do is give her time.”

  Hands stroked her shoulder, smaller and softer than Atticus’, then eased her onto her back, twisting the blanket beneath her. One blink, two, and a beloved face swam into view.

  “When did she slip back into her funk?” Connie’s lips seemed to move ever…so…slowly. “I thought she was doing well?”

  I was, until my heart broke.

  Mr. Bear shifted an inch in her stranglehold, so she tightened her arms around him until the weak muscles trembled with the effort. He was the only thing she had left—they couldn’t have him.

  “I just need to borrow him, Alicia. Just for a moment.” Connie’s hands were everywhere, soothing and comforting with their gentleness. “Att, could you give us some space? I think Thane wanted to discuss that job offer you made before we…”

  “Took a vacation,” Atticus finished, emphasizing the word vacation. “I, ah…yeah, I’ll just be in the kitchen if you…if she needs me.”

  Connie sighed quietly. “Well, looks like you’ve done the impossible and flustered the big guy, Lisha. That’s one of the most difficult accomplishments in the known universe.” Lines of tension marred the lightly tanned skin around her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. You should never have been sent to that place. Atticus and I didn’t want you to go, but Braun and Bodie felt it would give you some independence. They would have been right, if the rehab facility lived up to its hype. But we didn’t protect you, and we should have.”

  The pain of someone else who travelled within the black fog was like a beacon, luring her toward it, guiding her through the dark. Alicia recognized the smudge of despair that came with surviving something horrific—she just hadn’t expected to see it marring the beauty of her friend.

  No, not marring, she corrected as she watched Connie’s mouth move without hearing the words. The woman was as stunning as the last time Alicia had seen her, albeit a little tired and slightly leaner, and that smudge added a warrior’s virulence to an already powerful female.

  It brought a sense of kinship to light, a connection Alicia hadn’t felt in all the time they’d cohabitated under the same roof. Whatever had happened to Connie in the time they’d been apart, it drew Alicia closer to her, seeking the knowledge she possessed that made her able to hurt so fucking much and yet still function.

  Stumbling through the fog, Alicia wondered how many times she could wander aimlessly through the thick of her depression before she finally stopped fighting and let it suck her under. Sooner rather than later, she supposed, considering how often she dipped and wavered into that cesspool.

  “This is a lovely bear, Lisha. Does he have a name?” Connie ran her hand over the soft fur, but her eyes were locked on Alicia’s. “Would you let me hold him?”

  Did her friend suspect how close she was to breaking through the thinnest part of the fog? Could Connie see her through the blank stare Alicia knew she wore when her consciousness retreated away from reality? See the heart of her, desperately yearning for a way out of this hell?

  Alicia felt her fingers twitch, her arms relax. Her upper body shifted restlessly as though shrugging off the clinging vines of fog binding her in the pit she would one day die in.

  For a frightening moment, she thought her left foot jerked.

  In a heartbeat, Connie’s fingers were linked through hers, squeezing tight and dragging Alicia all the way free. There were tears sheening the gray of her eyes, and a fierceness burning brightly in their depths. “I was hoping you hadn’t sunk so far down, you couldn’t come back.”

  Alicia cleared her throat. “I will, one day. I’m tired of fighting.”

  “That’s what we’re here for, sweetheart. We’ll fight for you when you can’t.” The link between their fingers tightened almost painfully. “It’s so good to see you, Lisha. When I heard you didn’t want to see me…God, it hurt. I understood that I made a lot of mistakes with you, far too many, but that pain…”

  Smiling was the last thing she wanted to do, but she gave it her best attempt. “When I left rehab, I looked like a shorn skeleton. It wasn’t just you, Connie—I was ashamed to think that anyone had to see me that way. Not that I’m much better now.”

  “Atticus is taking care of you properly?”

  Alicia’s heart imploded, then crumbled into dust at the mention of his name. It was too soon, far too soon, to think about that asshole and his date night. Her bottom throbbed gently, reminding her of the intimacy of that moment in the bath, and she nodded tersely.

  “Is he what kicked this episode off?”

  Do not imagine him fucking another woman. Do not think about him at all.

  “I’m not talking about him.”

  “Okay, we won’t poke that hornets’ nest right now. Do you think you’re ready to talk about something a bit more personal, like what’s going on with your body today?”

  Why did she get the distinct feeling this was going to be a horrendously embarrassing chunk of time she would want to shove in the vault before it was done? Alicia grimaced, unlinking her fingers from Connie’s so she could move.

  After a brief, frustrating minute, she managed to prop herself into a sitting position, tugging the blanket around herself and Mr. Bear. There might be a point when she had to cover his ears—and her own—but for now, he was her unwavering support. “Can you stop it?”

  Connie’s lips quirked as she slipped off the bed to retrieve a brown paper bag that had been left by the door. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Millions of women all over the world wish it was. What you need to remember is that you’re not the only one, Lisha.” She sat down again, scooting back to sit beside her. “Att said this is your second period? When was your first?”

  Oh yes, embarrassing. “A couple months ago, I think.”

  “All right, well, we need to keep track of that. Most women cycle every month, on or around the same date. It might be worth thinking about getting checked over by a doctor, simply because you’ve started so late.” Connie pulled a couple of boxes from the bag. “You’ll probably find that you get headaches, stomach cramps, backache, and a few other treats from Mother Nature along with the bleeding. Mood swings are common. My right knee aches like a bitch for a week before I come on.”

  “Seriously?” Aghast, Alicia stared at her.

  “Oh yeah, women got shafted big time with this. On a good note, it offers the perfect opportunity to gorge on sugar for a week.” Connie winked. “So, you’ve been through this already. It’s a pain in the ass, but we prevail with the help of some sanitary friends. What did they give you at the facility, tampons or pads?”

  Stop fucking whining, bitch. Don’t even think about crying, or you’ll be licking this mess off the sheets. Elliot’s voice, thick with sick delight and disgust, filled Alicia’s head. Bleeding like a stuck pig. They say only whores who fuck the devil, who are full of sin, bleed like this. Are you a whore? Just ‘cause your legs don’t work don’t mean you can’t fuck like a whore. What did I say about crying?

  Her cheek lit up with the recollection of the sharp, shocking pain of his hand slicing across her face. She could feel the bite of it, then the hot throb of being struck. The spread of his sweaty palm over her face, pinning her down and stealing her air as he yanked her legs apart with his free hand.

  But you’re not like the other whores, are you? No, you’re worse. You bite the hand that feeds you, destroy the ones who gave life to you. Oh yeah, whore, I know who you fucking are. I know what you did. Murderers don’t get special privileges here—in here, I’m God, and this is what you get for sinning.

  Alicia stared at Connie’s fingers as they deftly opened the boxes and pulled out the contents. The place between her legs cringed at the memory of Elliot shoving rough material inside it, packing the rags so deep inside her that it hurt more than
the cramps.

  I want my Daddy.

  He’s not my Daddy.

  I don’t care, I want him.

  But he doesn’t want me.

  “Both of these are really easy to use.” Connie held up a small colorful packet. “This one goes inside you and absorbs the blood. They’re the neater option of the two.” In her other hand was a long, narrow strip of material with flaps on either side. “Pads sit in your panties. These are easier to change.”

  “W-Which do you use?” she whispered.

  It struck her then that this was possibly the longest conversation she’d ever had with Connie. Perhaps because they weren’t contained together in the same living space, one encroaching on the other’s home. Or maybe, in the time she’d been away and left to fend for herself, she’d grown up enough to understand Connie wasn’t her enemy.

  Waggling the cylinder, Connie set the pad aside. “Tampons.” As she ripped open the packet, her friend gave her the side eye. “Did no one at the facility explain about your periods, sweetheart? Show you how all these work?”

  “No. The orderlies were…male.”

  “Ah, useless then. Did they give you sanitary products to use?” Connie handed over a plastic cylinder slighter thicker than Alicia’s finger, with a string dangling from the end.

  There was no way to evade the question a third time. Alicia was good at reading body language, a skill learned for self-preservation, and she knew the psychologist’s suspicions were being roused by her non-answers. “Not like these.”

  “Alicia. You can trust me with whatever you’re hiding. If it’s something you’re too embarrassed to tell Atticus about, I promise you I can help.”

  “Did you know he’s going to fuck Anarchy tonight?” Alicia blurted, opting for a defensive tactic instead of spilling her sordid secrets into the light.

  “Shit, Att, you told her,” Connie muttered to herself, closing her eyes and groaning under her breath. When she opened them again, the gray was the color of steel. “I know that he and Jasper have been discussing it, and that they decided tonight would be a good night to get it done. Atticus is committed to your care—he doesn’t want a promise he made to undermine that.”