Forbidden Sister

by V. C. Andrews

  “No, I’m just a . . . roommate.”

  “Just a roommate? I don’t know how you could be just a roommate,” he said. “You got a date tonight?”

  “No, I don’t . . . I’m not . . . I’m just a roommate,” I said. “You want another drink or maybe some cheese and crackers?”

  “No, I don’t want cheese and crackers, and I’m not here to get bombed, Miss . . . say, what’s your name?”

  “My name’s not important,” I said.

  “Oh, more mystery, huh? I like that.” He gave me that wide smile again.

  “I have to get dressed,” I said, and started away, but he reached out and seized my wrist.

  “Naw, you don’t have to get dressed yet. You just told me you’re not going on a date. You can keep me company.”

  “Well, it’s not a date, but I’m meeting someone.”

  “That’s not a date? More mystery?” he said, and pulled me a little closer. “You smell fresh. Just take a shower or something?”

  “Please. You’re hurting my wrist,” I said. He was holding me very tightly, his grip burning my skin.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, releasing his grip on my wrist, but then he seized the belt on my robe. “What are you really, the warm-up girl? Like an act before the main act or something? Because I don’t mind.”

  I shook my head.

  “You invited me in for a drink. Is this some role-playing game, part of the service? Because if it is, I like it.”

  “No.”

  I backed away, but he held on to my robe’s belt.

  “Please, let me go,” I said.

  “I like that. Pleading. Sexy,” he said, getting off the stool. He tugged my belt and then reached for me, taking hold of the collar of the robe. “How about we get it on first, then?” he said. “Pass the time?”

  When he brought his lips toward me, I pushed on his forehead, and then I spun, slipping out of the robe and running naked to my bedroom. I heard his laughter as I locked the door behind me. Shivering with fear, I hurried to put on a blouse and a pair of jeans. He came to the door and tried the knob.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “What is this?”

  “Please. Go away,” I said, crying now. He rattled the knob. I thought he might break the lock, but suddenly, he stopped. I held my breath, and then I heard Roxy’s voice and him walking away from my door.

  23

  I didn’t leave my room. Still trembling, I returned to my bed and sat waiting to see what was going to happen. I heard the music get turned off, but I didn’t hear any voices. The silence made me even more nervous. What was going on out there? Did Roxy realize she had forgotten a date? Was there a real mix-up, and was she explaining it to him? Would it matter to him?

  I began to worry about Roxy. Although the man wore expensive clothes and jewelry, there was something very common and streetlike about him. My mind spun with images from mobster movies. I paced in my room, stopping when I thought I heard someone shouting. It grew quiet, and then it sounded as if something hit the building. I held my breath and listened. This time, I heard footsteps, and then I clearly heard the door slam. Was it the front door or the door to Roxy’s bedroom?

  I went to mine and pressed my ear against it, listening. It was very silent again, ominously silent this time. If the man had left, why didn’t Roxy come to see me? Terrified but seeing nothing else I could do, I unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Still, I heard nothing.

  My first thought was to close it again and wait for Roxy. Of course, she could have left with the man, but if she had, she surely would have come by to tell me she was going, wouldn’t she? There was no point in her pretending there was no one but her there now. I waited and listened, and then I began to move slowly toward the living room. I kept as quiet as I could. There was no one there—no one at the bar and no one in the kitchen or the dining room. The apartment was still dead quiet. Nothing looked moved or touched. His whiskey glass was still on the bar.

  I paused and listened for voices again but heard none. Dare I do it? What else could I do? I had to find out what was happening. I practically tiptoed to Roxy’s bedroom. The door was closed. My heart was racing so hard and fast I thought I might faint in the hallway. After every few steps, I paused to listen. It was too silent. Roxy must have left with him, I concluded, and went to her door. I stood there for a moment, and then I pressed my ear against it to listen for voices, sounds, anything. I thought I heard a sob.

  I certainly didn’t want to confront that man again, but I had to do it. I had to take a chance.

  “Roxy?” I called. “Are you there?”

  It grew silent again.

  “Roxy?”

  “Go back to your room, M. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Go back to your room,” she ordered.

  I started away but then stopped and brought my ear to the door again. I didn’t hear the man’s voice. I thought I heard the water running in her bathroom sink. Very gingerly, I turned the doorknob and opened the door a little more than an inch. Through the crack, I could see into her bathroom. The door was open, and she was bent over her sink. I heard her gag and spit, and then, when she raised herself, I could see her in the mirror. She had what looked like a black-and-blue mark on the left corner of her mouth, and her lip looked swollen. I pushed the door open. There was no one else in the room.

  “Roxy!” I called.

  She spun around. “Get out!” she screamed, and slammed the bathroom door closed.

  I stood there, even more terrified than before. “What happened? What did he do to you? Who was he?” I asked.

  She didn’t reply, but I didn’t move. Finally, she opened the door and looked out at me.

  “This is the first time this has happened to me,” she said. “There was a real screw-up. I had no appointment tonight and certainly wouldn’t have had one with someone like him if I knew anything about him.” She pressed a cold washcloth against her mouth.

  “He hit you? Why did he hit you?”

  “I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Forget about it, M. It’s over.”

  “No. Tell me,” I said.

  She sat on her bed. I went over and sat beside her. She kept her gaze on the floor.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Should you go to see a doctor?”

  “No, of course not.” She took a deep breath.

  “Did he hit you anywhere else?”

  “No. This was enough to satisfy him,” she told me.

  “What did he want, Roxy?”

  She studied me a moment and shook her head. “He wanted me to bring you into the room.”

  “What?”

  “You know, a ménage à trois. Satisfied?”

  “I thought you said the men, the clients you have, are all well screened, that this sort of thing can’t happen.”

  “I told you. This was the first time.” She thought a moment and then said, “Maybe it wasn’t such a screw-up.” She rose and went to her window to look down at the street.

  “What do you mean, maybe it wasn’t?”

  “Mrs. Brittany has funny ways of making a point. She’s been on me about this sister-act idea of hers ever since she came here to bawl me out. She’s always reminding me about how much she has done for me, pressuring me. I owe her. I can’t say no.”

  She turned to me.

  “So you see, Papa was right to tell you to stay away from me,” she added.

  “No, he wasn’t right,” I said, shaking my head. “You only tried to help me.”

  “Right. I’m a big help. You should have gone off with Uncle Orman and Aunt Lucy. None of this would have happened. We both would have gone our own ways and not hurt each other. I only made trouble for myself.”

  I felt the tears building around my eyes. “That’s not so, Roxy. I wanted to be with you. I needed you.”

  She looked up sharply. “No one needs me, except Mrs. Brittany.”r />
  “You’re wrong.”

  “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong. Just go about your schoolwork, M. Dinner should be up soon. Eat it yourself. I’m not very hungry, and it probably will hurt to chew anything for a while.”

  “What about the man?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you just going to forget about this?”

  “I’m not about to call the police or anything, if that’s what you mean. He’s gone. I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

  She returned to her bathroom and closed her door. I heard her running a bath. I left, and on the way back to my room, I heard the buzzer. I was afraid the man had returned, but when I looked through the keyhole, I saw that it was the delivery boy from the restaurant. I opened the door and took the food, but I had lost my appetite, too. I tried to eat a little, taking my time and hoping that Roxy would come out for something, but she didn’t. I was certainly not in the mood to do any homework.

  Later, I heard her come out, but before I could say anything, she told me she was leaving. I imagined that she was off to see Mrs. Brittany. I didn’t know who else she would go to for anything. I watched the clock, tried to work, but couldn’t concentrate on anything. It was nearly eleven by the time she returned. As soon as I heard her come in, I charged out of my room.

  “What happened? Where were you?”

  She took off her jacket and flopped onto the sofa.

  “I was right. She sent this goon up. I think she really believed that I would involve you if I was faced with it and knew it would please her.”

  “What did you tell her? What did she do when she saw your face?”

  “She was sorry about that, but she said I’d live. Mrs. Brittany is not big on sympathy, especially if she thinks you are partly to blame. She reminds me a lot of Papa.”

  “But what did you tell her about her idea? I mean, involving me in . . . ?”

  “I told her I would work on the idea.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. I can stall her and get her off our backs for a while. Maybe after time passes, she’ll forget about it.”

  I didn’t believe it for a moment. One thing Papa had taught me was never to fool yourself. “Burying your head in the sand, even for a short time, is self-defeating. Prepare yourself, and train for trouble. Face your problems and challenges head-on and defeat them,” he often preached, as if I really was in his army. I was sure it was advice his own father had given him.

  But I saw that Roxy wanted me to believe that she had things under control, so I kept quiet.

  “I told Mrs. Brittany you had a holiday coming up and I would use the time to work on it. I told her we were going to France. That was part of what I was doing today. I made our ticket arrangements. You’re out on Friday, and we’re off on Saturday. I’ve called Uncle Alain. He’s very excited about it.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “Good. Just put this out of your mind. It won’t happen again. I promise,” she said.

  “Okay. I left food in the fridge for you,” I told her.

  “Yeah, maybe I’ll nibble on something. Thanks.” She rose and then paused just before going into the kitchen. She kept her head down. “I’m sorry I said what I said before in my bedroom. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Before I could respond, she went into the kitchen. I returned to my room, finally believing that I would be able to get to sleep.

  In the morning, I brought her a cup of coffee before I left for school. The trauma on her face looked worse, but her lip wasn’t as bad.

  “Don’t worry about this,” she said, seeing how I stared at her. “Makeup does wonders.”

  “Is it really the first time something like this has happened to you, Roxy?”

  “Some men are a little rougher than others, but no one has deliberately hurt me before this.”

  “How can you . . . I mean . . . how do you . . . ?”

  “Go out with so many different men?”

  “Yes.”

  “After a while, they all look the same to me. I don’t have sex with all of them, M, if that’s what you’re wondering about. Some really are just looking for an escort, someone to make them look better at an event. It’s an ego thing.”

  She paused and looked away and then turned back to me.

  “I shouldn’t say they all look the same. I’ve been with some very nice men, elegant men, men who treat lovemaking like a symphony. At least, that was the way Mrs. Brittany put it when I began. They’re gentle, loving, and tender and then, like in some musical piece, bring it to a crescendo. You know, like in the movies when they show fireworks going off when people make love.”

  She paused again.

  “You have a look on your face that reminds me so much of Papa.”

  “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  “It’s all right. I know who and what I am. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about myself right now, M. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “It won’t be the same for you. I mean, sex and love. It will be different, better.”

  “Can’t it ever be for you?”

  “I don’t know.” She smiled. “He’d have to be one helluva liberal-minded guy.” She sat up. “I could get used to having my coffee brought to me every morning.”

  “I would do it.”

  “I know. Look, we’re going to change things for you, M. We’ll get you into a new school. You’ll meet a new crowd of friends, everything. I’ll get you out of Snob Central, and you’ll be able to wear the clothes I bought you, too.”

  “I can’t wait. You going to be all right today? Because I can stay home. It’s no big deal.”

  “To do what? Take care of me? Believe me, I went through worse in the early days before I hooked up with Mrs. Brittany.”

  “You ever going to tell me about all that?”

  “Someday, when you’re desperate for nightmares,” she replied, and I laughed.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “We’re going out tonight. A new place,” she called after me.

  “Great,” I shouted back, and left the apartment.

  We were having a beautiful spring morning in New York. The air was fresh and the breeze gentle, bringing hints of the warmer weather to come. I felt like smiling at people on the street and enjoying my walk.

  How strange, I thought. I felt buoyed up because of our heartfelt and candid conversation that morning. I was full of new hope for Roxy and myself, even though we had both had a very bad experience, and in my mind, neither of us was well out of the difficulties that Mrs. Brittany could create. Last night was only the beginning of what could happen.

  I smiled, thinking of how Chastity Morgan would react if I ever told her about it. The danger, of course, would be that she would spread the story so fast that it would reach Dr. Sevenson’s ears. I had no doubt that she would put the child-protection service on us and get me away from Roxy. Maybe Aunt Lucy or Uncle Orman had left her their phone numbers just in case anything untoward occurred. She could call them, and despite Uncle Orman’s threat, he would have me brought to them and locked up in their world. No, I had to be very careful about what I said to Chastity or anyone else.

  That didn’t bother me right now. I felt above it all. The prospect of leaving for a new school soon and our vacation trip to Paris to see Uncle Alain put even more bounce in my steps. My whole demeanor changed when I entered the school building that morning. I said hello to classmates who thought looking at me would turn them into pillars of salt, raised my hand frequently in my classes to answer questions, and even though no one invited me, sat with other girls in the cafeteria.

  Chastity couldn’t help herself. The dramatic change in my behavior stirred her curiosity. She had to approach me to ask how everything was. I should have snubbed her. Look at the trouble she had caused by telling Evan and the others about Roxy. But I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

  This time, instead of re
plying with a grunt or a monosyllabic “Fine” or “Good,” I went into a vivid and enthusiastic description of the services at the hotel that were at my beck and call, the wonderful meals we had brought up for our dinners, including those delicious pastries she loved, and the luxury of Roxy’s apartment. I explained all I was learning about fashion, the boutiques we explored, and the clothes Roxy had bought me, clothes I certainly couldn’t wear there. Then I went into reviews of some of the restaurants Roxy had taken me to for dinners and lunches. Finally, I told her we were going to Paris for our vacation.

  “We’re going to stay with my uncle Alain and see old relatives but then go to shows and dinners and do some of the fun tourist things. We’re going to be like real sisters traveling together, and since we both can speak and understand French, we should have a great time, don’t you think? Money is certainly not a problem.”

  I saw how I had overwhelmed her. She was practically speechless, chanting, “Wow, that’s great,” after almost everything I said. Then I told her that when I returned from Paris, I might be able to invite her up to the apartment.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but only you. Unless, of course, your parents wouldn’t want you to have anything to do with me now.”

  “Oh, no. They’ve never said that. Besides, why do they have to know anything?”

  I laughed to myself. Chastity was as easy to look through as an open window.

  “We’ll see,” I said, but it was enough to get her very excited.

  I shouldn’t be toying with her like this, I thought. The Emmie Wilcox who was best friends with her not that long ago wouldn’t be so cruel and conniving, but I couldn’t help myself. She and the others had been so quick to condemn me, so eager to prove that they were better.

  When I turned her loose on the other girls, she was eager to describe how exciting and wonderful things had become for me. The words exploded from her lips like tiny firecrackers, and her hands went everywhere with dramatic flair. I was sure she embellished everything to make it sound as if I had finally confided in her and told her the most secret and forbidden things.