Betraying Innocence (20 page)

Ana

Ana broke the surface with a greedy gasp.

“Rafe?” she called, paddling to shore. “Rafe!”

At the bank, she threw herself face down on the rocks, dragging her weary body to safety, all the while her mind raced with her heart.

“Rafe!”

She was pushing up on all fours when a pair of feet in shiny loafers appeared in front of her.
When did Rafe start wearing loafers?
She wondered, following the feet up a pair of black slacks. Already, her heart was petrified, knowing without a doubt what she would find the moment her gaze hit the narrow shoulders.

It was him, the boy from Chemistry. The boy she’d seen standing by the pond her first night at the house. But his face wasn’t mutilated. It wasn’t dripping blood and his blue eyes stared down at her, brimming with regret, pain, anger
… so much anger.

Ana swallowed hard, scrambling back. “W
… who…” Her chattering teeth nipped the tip of her tongue, drawing blood. She tried again, “Who are you?”

Gingerly, the way one might behav
e around a wild animal, Ana rose to her feet, eyes never leaving the boy watching her. She peeled her wet shirt away from her body, adjusting it so it covered the essentials, although, she was almost certain he didn’t care.

“What do you want from me? Where’s Rafe?” she asked, too afraid to take her eyes off him long enough to check for herself.

Seconds passed, each one dragging for what felt like hours. The wind sliced through Ana’s soaking frame, rising goose bumps along her flesh. No amount of huddling, of wrapping her arms around herself, helped ward off the biting.

Then, just when she was certain he would say nothing, his arm shot out, fingers reaching as if to touch her face.

Unthinkingly, Ana yelped.

“Get away from her!” Suddenly, Rafe was there,
his face a mask of fierce fury.

Taken by surprise as much as Ana was, the boy had just enough time to whip around before the branch in
Rafe’s hand swung for his head.

The scream that had up until that moment been lodged in Ana’s throat, split the air. She wasn’t sure what she
expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t for the branch to slice through his skull like a hot knife through butter, or for the boy to dissolve before their eyes like sugar in water. In his place, Rafe stared at her, breathing as hard as she was, but with a wild, ferocious glint in his eyes. His head whipped from side to side as he raised the branch bat-style across his shoulder.

“Where is he?” he growled, doing a circle.
“Where is
he?”

“I
… I think he’s gone,” Ana croaked, fighting not to give into the fainting sensation beckoning her to sway into its arms.

Rafe hurried over to her and took her hand. “Come on!”

She let herself be dragged up the path to the house, positive she would never have made it there on her own.

On the porch, he stopped and faced to her, his eyes intense. “Get inside and lock the door.”

Ana wanted to laugh. If she could’ve stopped shivering, stopped her teeth from chattering, her heart from going crazy in her chest, she would have reminded him that a closed door didn’t apply to ghosts. That locked or not, it wouldn’t stop that thing from getting inside. But there was something else, another reason that going inside wouldn’t help.

“He’s in there,” she told him, tears suddenly burning her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled.

“What?” He yanked her away from the open door and thrust her behind him. “Where?”

She sniffled, wanting so desperately to just bury her face into the pla
nes of his back and cry. “In my room,” she whispered, absolutely certain of this now. “He’s inside my walls.”

It no longer mattered if he
thought her insane. Her problems were so much bigger, so much more frightening. Plus, was she crazy if he’d seen it too? If he’d fought it? Was she still insane?

Rafe didn’t look disbelieving. He looked horrified and angry. His eyes widened, darting between her and the door. “What
was that thing, Ana?”

“I don’t know!” she cried, no longer able to stop the flood of tears
that washed down her face, mixing with the pond water. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I thought I was crazy. I thought … I’m not crazy! You saw him. You saw him, didn’t you? I’m not—”

She was suddenly in his arms, held so tight it was almost impossible to breath
e. But it wasn’t close enough.

“Shh,” he whispered into her temple. “You’re not crazy. I saw him, too.”

“I’m so scared…” she croaked into his chest. Her fingers fisted into the wet fabric of his shirt.

“It’s all right now,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Face a mess of tears, pond water and snot, Ana raised her head to peer into his eyes. “How?”

“First, we’re going to get out of these clothes.”

Refusing to leave her alone and with her refusing to be left alone with a possibly pissed off ghost hovering around, he led her through the yard into his, all the while wielding the makeshift weapon tightly in his hand. Ana marveled at how much nicer the grass felt on his side of the yard where it was neatly trimmed, compared to the jungle it was on her side.

They passed the play structure
and the scattered toys to the back porch. Rafe placed a finger over his lip for silence as he eased the sliding door open just wide enough for them to slip through.

“I don’t know about this!” she hissed just low enough for him to hear.

“Shh!” Was his only response.

They crept through the silent and shadow infested house. Ana realized that, although their houses looked s
imilar from the outside, inside they were worlds apart, from the very little she could make out. The back door didn’t lead into the kitchen like hers did, but into the living room, which was spacious and joined with the dining room and kitchen. There was a short hallway, then stairs, which they took to the second floor. Ana gripped Rafe’s hand tighter, hoping, praying no one heard them.

At the top, Rafe showed her down another hall to the room at the very end. Inside, he closed the door and trapped them in the darkness.

“Wait there!” he told her from somewhere on her right. Ana didn’t move. She heard him scuffle around. Something crunched, then clattered like dishes. Something else cracked beneath his feet, sounding like a CD case. There were more grunts and things getting trampled, broken and scattered, and Ana wondered if she wanted the lights on. Then, after what felt like several very long minutes, a light flared to life across the room from a lamp perched on what could have possibly been a nightstand. Ana winced at the sudden blinding explosion, and blinked until all the little spots vanished from across her vision.

The place was a chaotic mess. Clothes, books, CDs, movies and piles of dishes cluttered every square inch of the room. Posters of bands, movies and just odd sayings hung haphazardly on the walls
, some were even upside down like he’d done them with his eyes closed. There were six rows of shelves against one wall, holding numerous tattered novels. Somewhere under all the mess, she could just make out a bed, a dresser, a nightstand and maybe a desk, but it was hard to tell.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly,
wading back over to her. “I don’t usually have company up here.”

His confession both confused and relieved her
. It meant he hadn’t brought any girls up there, but then again, if he had, she was probably still up there somewhere, buried beneath all the junk.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out through her chattering teeth. The knuckles on her hands were snowy caps as she struggled to keep her wet shirt modestly pulled as low as it would go down her legs.

“Uh…” He raked a hand through his hair, turning first left, then right as if not sure which direction he was going. But quickly, he caught himself and hurried to the dresser across the room. He bunched up and tossed aside the towel hanging there before yanking open the top drawer, then the one underneath it. He turned with two black bundles in hand. “I, uh, don’t have female … underthings, but…” He glanced up, and froze, his eyebrows shot up his brow and his eyes widening. Slowly, they roamed over her, taking in everything from her bare feet to the ends of her dripping hair. They swept over her face, and then swooped down again, hovering lower and lower beneath her neck for longer periods of time.

Ana felt herself flush beneath his scalding scrutiny. A warm current rushed up her body in all the places his dark gaze touched. She shivered. “Rafe?”

As if coming out of a daze, Rafe shook his head, blinked and quickly looked away. He seemed to hesitate for a full heartbeat, before clearing his throat and saying, “Here.” He crossed the space separating them, eyes firmly locked on his feet. “I’ll … you can use my bathroom … take a shower or whatever.”

Take a shower? In
his
bathroom? Her insides summersaulted in excitement and terror. Suddenly facing the ghost seemed like a small risk compared to being naked where he was normally naked.

Ana gulped, mind a white-hot mess of images, all consisting of
Rafe’s golden flesh glistening with the water pouring over him, down him, tracing the curves of his muscles, the long ridges of his limbs, his hair swept back from his tilted face as white foam glided down … down…

“Ana?”

Ana startled. Her cheeks darkened as if really caught peeking on him in the shower. The back of her ankle caught something hidden under a mound of clothes and she hit the door with her shoulder. Pain exploded down her arm. She opened her mouth to hiss, only to have him suddenly there, hand over her mouth, his other hand pressing a finger to his own lips. His eyes were wide, staring down at her, but not really seeing her. Down the hall, they heard a door squeal open. Rafe’s fingers tightened over her face, bruising. The pupils of his eyes shrunk to pinpricks. His face turned a sick green.

She didn’t have to ask why.

Two seconds later the door rattled as if beaten with an iron mallet. Pressed against the cold surface, Ana felt every violent vibration straight into her bones. Molded into her, Rafe tapped his finger to his mouth, warning her urgently to keep quiet.

“Keep it down
, you little prick!” a male voice roared. “Some of us actually sleep!”

His dad?
She wondered, searching his face.

The person on the other side of the door spewed a few more colorful curse words
and said some things that made Ana want to go out there and slap him in the mouth, then stormed away, the floorboards trembling with every stomp of his feet.

Rafe’s
hold on her face didn’t loosen until they heard the door slam. His hand fell away, as did his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Ana rubbed her sore jaw. “Was that your dad?”

He stepped away from her. “That was Dan.”

She didn’t know who Dan was, but she didn’t like him. She didn’t like the sound of his voice or the way it seemed to fill Rafe with terror. She didn’t like the way he caused anger and embarrassment to darken
Rafe’s face.

“You called me Ana,” she said softly, hoping to erase the hunch in his shoulders.

Rafe’s head came up. She gave him a small, teasing smile. He blinked, his eyes wide with surprise and confusion, then, very slowly, his lips bowed to match hers.

“I’m still very partial to Rosa.” He bent at the waist and snatched up the clothes he’d dropped. “Come on.”

As quietly as they’d come in, Rafe led her out of his bedroom and into the room across the hall. He closed them into the bathroom.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Take a shower. Leave the water running when you’re done.”

Too cold, too clammy, too wet to argue, Ana nodded. He took a last look at her before slipping out and closing the door quietly behind him. Ana wasted no time turning the water as high on hot as she could stand. She shredded her clothes off and hurriedly stepped into the rising steam. A choked gasp escaped her as the pulsing jet struck her goose flesh infested skin.