The Debt (20 page)

Enamored, she plucked at the strings, experimenting with the steel under her fingers like I’d seen so many times at Jupiter. I wanted to share this with her. To have something we could discover together. Those dark, gorgeous eyes looked at me with an expression I wanted to bottle and retrieve at will. I could bench press a Volkswagen on that look.

“Thank you,” she repeated, and set the bass on the floor against the nightstand. “For everything.” Her hand found mine, entwining our fingers. “Today was perfect. It means so much to me, Josh. I can’t even tell you.”

“You don’t have to. I love you.” I brought her fingers to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “I’m going to make it up to you—all the birthdays I wasn’t the friend I should have been.”

“No.” Hadley tugged my hand to her lap. “I don’t want to play that game. We’re skipping over all the bad stuff and picking up where we left off with the good parts, remember?”

“You’re right. I’m rehabilitated from my midlife crisis and my little arsonist isn’t setting any more fires.”

Punky smirked right before a yawn stretched her mouth wide. “Sorry,” she laughed.

“Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll set the alarm.”

Hadley hesitated. She held my hand tighter when I tried to get up.

“You can do this. I’m trusting you. Get ready for bed. Don’t touch the locks while I’m gone. When I get back, I expect to find you tucked in tight.”

She took a deep breath and nodded as she released my hand. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her to it.

I’d learned that the expectations of those you love are powerful motivators and strong deterrents. To make my father proud of his son, to be a better man for the girl I cherished, I put forth a greater effort than I might have otherwise. I made different choices than I would have if left to my own devices. So I hoped the same would work on Hadley. But if it didn’t, I’d do my best to be what she needed. Hell, maybe she’d never get over it and push past the needs of her disorder. All I wanted was her happiness. I’d take her any way I could have her, scars and all.

Sunday evening, after we took my dad to the airport, Hadley and I were sequestered at opposite ends of the house. Like me, she had a portfolio due at the end of the semester.

While she worked in Simon’s study, I returned to the garage to get started on that composition for my jazz showcase. My head hurt. That fucking incessant song wouldn’t leave me alone. My broken hand was sore. My stomach was revolting against the few bites I’d managed to eat all day. Nevertheless, I ignored the multitude of excuses and sat with my notebook open on the music stand and my guitar across my lap. By 1:00 a.m. I had made some headway. Not a revelation by any means, but enough to call the evening productive.

“You don’t think I can feel it when you walk into a room?” I looked over my shoulder at Hadley standing in the doorway with my sweatshirt hanging over lean, bare legs. Lovely. “My Punky sense tingles if you leave the town limits.”

Hadley smiled, rolling her eyes. I used to think that move meant I was irritating her. I now realized it was a response to finding me pretty damn charming. Oh, the conversations that might have gone quite differently if I’d had that bit of insight.

“Time for bed?” I said as she crossed the garage to where I sat.

“I can’t see straight anymore.” She grabbed my hair, tugging my head back. “I should have majored in philosophy or something.”

I slid my fingers up and down the backs of her thighs, marveling at how fucking soft she felt. I grabbed the backs of her legs, tugging her to stand between mine. “What, and give up the secure and lucrative future of a degree in art?”

“And what are you working on? Jazz? Maybe you didn’t get the memo, but jazz is dead.” She leaned forward, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. Hadley dragged her teeth, biting lightly.

My hands moved under her sweatshirt to grab her ass. No shorts, just a tiny pair of black panties. “Did you come in here to seduce me?”

“Do I have to try?”

“Hell no.”

I stood and attacked her mouth. My hand fisted in her hair. Hadley stretched on her toes to meet me. With one arm under her ass, I hoisted her up until her legs locked around my waist. We bumped into every wall and counter through the garage and past the kitchen. Damn near took a header down the stairs as I carried her to her room.

Inside, I threw her on the bed. She bounced, laughing. My cock strained at the image of this amazing woman spread out, waiting for me and the savage things I’d do to her.

“Show me something,” I said, rubbing my erection through my jeans.

Hadley reached for the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.

I climbed over her, first tasting her lips before traveling her throat with my tongue. On seven million separate occasions I had fantasized about licking every fucking inch of her. From her shoulders, I lingered with her breasts, massaging them, sucking her tight nipples until she whimpered, then biting for a scream.

Hadley writhed beneath me, grinding against the ridge of my cock. Manipulating the heavy flesh of one breast, I applied my mouth to the other. I listened to her body, alternating between hard and soft. Her noises grew louder, more desperate as I moved my attention to her other breast. With my tongue piercing, I lashed at her nipple, flicking the cold steel over the little peak. I worked on her until she was quivering beneath me.

“Scoot up,” I told her.

She slid up the bed to rest against the pillows, giving me room to settle between her legs. I knelt above her and held her right leg over my shoulder to kiss a trail from ankle to thigh, repeating the path on her left.

“You having fun?”

“Very much,” I mumbled against her skin. “You are my dream come true.”

Hadley looked up with a content smile and sleepy eyes. “I love you.”

“Sweetheart”—I peeled her panties down her legs—“I’m just getting started.”

I spread her thighs to reveal the Promised Land, my goddamn birthright as far as I was concerned. No lucky son of a bitch ever had it this good.

I devoured that girl. My tongue stabbed shallow into her as my thumb rubbed over her clit. Shoving two fingers inside, I sucked the sensitive nub, flicking my tongue piercing. Hadley’s nails scraped across my scalp, and I thought I might come in my fucking pants from just her needy violence.

“Get there, Punky.” I pumped my fingers into her cunt, harder and faster as she moaned.

Her walls clamped down. Hadley’s hands fisted the pillow. Her entire body jerked. I pulled my fingers free and wrapped my mouth over her pussy, licking every drop of pure ecstasy.

As her body shuddered and went limp, she muttered under her breath. “I don’t think I can take any more.”

“Do you mean that?”

“No,” she breathed. “I want a lot more.”

“Good.” I smacked her pussy.

Hadley slapped her thighs together around my hand, glaring at me.

“Bend over, sweetheart. I’m going to ride the hell out of you.”

“Please?” she asked with a sassy inflection.

“If I have to say please, I’m going to tie you up and spank you.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide. “Rude.”

“Hadley,” I warned.

She took her sweet time sitting up, eyeing me all the while, like she was daring me to make good on my word. Another time. Right now, I needed to be inside her.

With Hadley on her knees, shoulders flat to the bed, I caressed her ass with one hand and pulled open my jeans with the other, shoving them down enough to free myself.

“Right here,” I said, running my thumb over her pristine skin. “My teeth would look so nice.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You’ll cave. One of these days.”

Positioned at her entrance, I held my cock in my good hand, rubbing the head through her slit. Every bit of friction against the piercing sent vibrations down my spine.

“Josh,” she whimpered.

“Sorry. Getting myself all distracted.”

“You’re going to lose your topping privileges.”

Inch by fantastic fucking inch, I slid into her. I spread her ass to watch my dick disappear inside her. Embedded to the hilt, I flexed my hips, holding deep. Hadley squeezed around my shaft.

“So good,” I groaned. “Shit. You feel so—”

“Josh.” Hair flipped over Punky’s shoulder as she tilted her face to look at me. “Stop thinking about nailing me and do it already.”

“Damn, I love you.”

“I know.”

I pulled out to the tip, gently sliding back in. At an easy pace, holding her hips, back and forth, I stroked myself with her warm, soft cunt. So fucking tight. Bending over her, my lips traveled Hadley’s shoulders and down her back. I could have kept this up all night—slow, patient, just on the razor’s edge.

“Faster,” she whimpered. “I want more.”

But Punky wasn’t the patient type.

No matter that I had her nearly immobile but for my will, Hadley used every bit of leverage she could find to push against me, forcing her pussy to take me deeper. Faster. Harder. The urge to come was right there, but I wanted this to last. Leaving a kiss on her lower back, I encouraged her to roll over. She reached up to touch the side of my face as I settled on top of her.

“If you don’t want to,” Hadley whispered, “I understand. We can stop.”

“No.” I kissed her palm. “I can handle it. I don’t want to miss a second of anything with you.”

Covering her body with mine, with Hadley’s legs wrapped around my hips and her arms clinging to my shoulders, I made love to her. And when the memories rushed my consciousness, I let her hold me tighter until the shaking stopped.

“What is it about that moment?” Reid discarded her iPad. She sat forward in the rolling leather chair, attention trained on my every frustrated, fumbling word.

Horizontal on the sofa, I didn’t look at her. My legs were too long, one elevated on the opposite armrest and my other foot touching the floor. I fought to discuss the topic while evading the memories, the psychosomatic effects. There was a water spot on the ceiling that had grown four inches in diameter during the last week.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Help me out, Josh. Explain it to me.”

Eyes closed, I absently traced one finger over my eyebrow. “Fear. Panic. Revulsion. Coming feels great, yeah. Of course. But it’s...it’s like fudge covered in dog shit. I get the good stuff, the pleasure, but always coated in shaking, nausea, a putrid taste in the back of my throat. My entire body breaks out in cold sweats.”

“And you see him?”

Through clenched teeth I answered, “Yes.”

“Specific instances or a general scene?”

“Fuck.” I tugged at my hair, trying to get a handle on my racing pulse. “Does it matter? What’s the difference?”

“Try.”

I’d fought her on this. I had agreed to her help, but asking me to go back into those memories, to talk about him, was something I had hoped to avoid.

“Do you believe you’re safe here?” Reid asked.

“Here” was irrelevant. This room or a street corner, it didn’t matter. The danger lived in my head. Why wasn’t there a surgery for that? Well, a surgery more precise and reliable than a lobotomy. Reach in and scoop out only where the raven made his nest.

“I see him—you know—finishing.” I hated saying the words aloud. My stomach turned. “I make a distinction between rape and molestation. He didn’t rape me. The sick fuck used me. I was a prop. Might as well have been a porno mag with hands.”

“And when you’ve been with someone,” she said, “when you’re with Hadley now...”

“What?” I demanded. “Ask the damn question.”

“Do you see yourself as your abuser?”

“Fuck you.” I jerked upright, fists clenched.

“You’re angry at the insinuation?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “And you’re baiting me. Why?”

“I have a theory and it goes like this: You envision yourself as the victimizer. As a child, impressionable, you learned to associate sexual acts involving another person as perverse, abusive. Alone, masturbating, you’re not hurting anyone. But in your mind, taking pleasure from these women, from Hadley, is something selfish and depraved. You think you’re scarring them just as you were traumatized. What you’re experiencing is post-traumatic stress, yes. More to the point, you feel guilt. Strong remorse for taking pleasure from what you perceive as Hadley’s pain or subjugation.”

“Bullshit,” I scoffed. “We have great sex. I’m not—no. Fuck that. I love her.”

“You do. Hadley knows that. Put aside logic, Josh. Your emotional responses in these situations are outside rational thinking. Consciously, you’re making love with a consenting adult for mutual enjoyment. Deeper, in your subconscious, where that five-year-old boy lives, he doesn’t understand the difference.”

Reid looked at me. I looked at the floor. It went on like that so long I forgot I hadn’t responded.

“Now what?” I muttered.

“Come to terms with the disparity.”

For the last forty-five minutes, Dr. Richardson had prattled on about the economic divide in America and its influence as reflected in popular music.

“I’m sorry,” a girl on the other side of the classroom remarked, “but I don’t get singers—like big celebrities—that write about being poor and having it so hard. I mean, hello, you’re rich. What more do you want?”

“It’s not like they were all born into fortunate circumstances,” another classmate argued. “I mean, look at Jay Z. He was—”

“Rap doesn’t count.”

“Excuse me?”

“What? It doesn’t.”

“Wow. That’s not racist.”

“What does that have to do with race?”

“Like all hip-hop artists are black and therefore grew up poor, so it’s okay for them?”

“Eminem is white.”

“That’s enough,” Dr. Richardson said. “Ms. Fuller,” he addressed the girl suffering from an abundance of stupid, “why don’t we table that discussion?”

I tried not to laugh at the absurdity happening around me. At the very least, the participation of others in discussion meant I could concentrate on more stimulating tasks and be left alone.

My phone buzzed with a text from Asha.

Photo lab. Now. Hadley needs you.

I was out of my seat in an instant, ignoring the calls from Dr. Richardson at my back.

Sprinting across campus, rain pelted my face and soaked through my clothing. The clouds were mean overhead, threatening a storm that would last all night.

When I reached the photo lab in the art building, Asha pointed me toward the darkroom. Inside, Hadley sat huddled in the corner under a table.

“Hey, Punky. Is there room under there for me?”

She said nothing. Illuminated by the single red bulb in the center of the ceiling, Hadley sat with her knees to her chest, head resting on her folded arms. She was shaking. The anxious, terrified vibrations shattered my heart.

I crawled under the table beside her and pressed my back to the wall. “Who we hiding from?” I asked, not that I expected an answer. “Asha is gone. I think the game is over. So if you want to come out now…”

Hadley had spent the entirety of class secluded here. When Asha couldn’t convince her to leave, she had sent for me to coax Hadley out.

“Sweetheart.” I tucked her hair behind her ear as I looked for just a glimpse of her face. “Talk to me.”

Nothing.

I waited, but the silence only served to make me feel impotent, insufficient.

“You used to let me sleep with your blanket, remember?” I let my head fall against the wall, closing my eyes. “The first time I saw you, that blanket was tangled around your arms and neck like a boa.”

A rainbow of pink, blue, and yellow wrapped around a tiny version of Hadley.

“The first time I came to you after he was done with me, you gave me the blanket and said it would protect me. Every night after that, I slept wrapped in that thing like a cocoon.”

Her shaking slowed, though Hadley still wouldn’t acknowledge me. I did notice her hands, like tense claws, gripping her arms. She was fighting, silently and alone. Without me.

“Thing is,” I told her, “the blanket didn’t work. Just about every night it was the same thing over and over. Yarn wasn’t much of a deterrent against monsters like him.” I slid my hand over her thigh, squeezing her leg. “You know what did help? You did, sweetheart. In your own way, you fixed me up with my leftover pieces.”

I constantly pondered what might have been if not for Hadley. What might have become of me if her parents hadn’t died, sending her to the foster home. How long would I have stayed there, subjected to that man’s vile attention? Without her, my parents would have been two people living a few hours away who’d never spared a thought for this boy, alone and covered in shame. But for their influence, for Hadley’s friendship, I found an escape from the persistent nightmare that followed long after he was gone.

“How many different ways can I say that I wouldn’t be alive if not for you? I’ll never be able to square us on that one. So please, Punky. Lean on me. Fight me. Slap me. Scream and throw things. Don’t shut me out. Not when I know you’re suffering. It kills me.”

“It’s like suddenly realizing I forgot to turn off the stove,” she muttered without looking up. “And then I’m picturing the entire house burning down. Only the flames find me sitting in class. Like they’re licking up my legs. I know it isn’t real, but it burns. I feel it searing my skin while I tell myself it’s just a delusion.” Hadley’s voice grew softer as her hands clenched, nails biting into her forearms. “I see someone inside,” she continued. “And I’m not here anymore. I’m asleep in bed. I’m alone. He’s coming for me and I don’t—”

“You’re not alone.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling Hadley against my chest. “You hear me? You’re not alone. I’m right here, Punky.”

Her hands fisted in my wet shirt.

“You’re never going to be alone again,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I won’t leave you behind.”

“How do you turn it off?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly. “But it starts with letting me get you out of here. You can’t sit in the dark forever.”

“The security video,” she muttered.

“What about it?”

“It’s not working. That’s how this started.”

I pulled out my phone, bringing up the app for our security system. An error message popped up. Well, fuck.

“Just a glitch,” I told her. “I’m sure—” I swallowed the rest.

Any plausible explanation was irrelevant. No amount of empty reassurance would change the feelings of anxiety that had already taken hold in Hadley’s mind.

“Let’s go home. It’s storming like a motherfucker out there, anyway. Better to get home now before the roads flood.”

That night I did my best to distract Hadley. Even after we got home and locked up, she remained anxious, jumpy. The storm only got worse and had her flinching at every crack of lightning or creak and groan of the house when thunder clapped loud and violent on top of us.

It wasn’t her fault. Her irrational behavior was something she couldn’t control, no matter how hard she fought to hold it all in. Worse, there was nothing I could do about it. All the chicken soup and hot tea, blankets and silly cartoons, couldn’t quiet the part of her brain that screamed,
Danger!

It was after midnight when she finally nodded off in bed. We slept in my room, Hadley’s body curled around me, tucked tight beneath the covers. I couldn’t fix it, but at least I felt useful. She needed me, and wasn’t that all anyone wanted? To have purpose. To have someone to take care of. Someone to miss you when you were gone.

As much as I had faith in Hadley’s ability to conquer anything, there was a good chance she’d never fully recover from the trauma of her parents’ deaths. And perhaps a selfish part of me didn’t want her to change. Because I liked being needed, and both of us being a little messed up meant I wasn’t alone.

My eyes snapped open. I looked down to see Hadley curled against me, her chest rising and falling with gentle breaths and one arm draped over my stomach. Outside, the storm raged on. Wind howled through the trees in a wild song as rain battered the glass.

The clock on my nightstand was dark. The power was out. It might have been the air conditioner shutting down or the generator kicking on that woke me. Satisfied, I closed my eyes.

Minutes later, under the noise of the storm outside, I became aware of a hissing sound—long, consistent. Fifteen seconds, I counted. It stopped for a moment and started again.

A series of clicks.

My body tensed.

My heart beat faster.

In an instant, my vision narrowed in the darkness and my senses focused. I climbed out of bed to press my ear to the door and listen for the noise under the violent storm outside. There was no pattern to the hiss and clicks. I knew every sound of this house; those weren’t normal.

Pulling on a pair of jeans, I grabbed a flashlight and removed my pistol from the lockbox in the nightstand. I grabbed Hadley’s sweatshirt from the floor.

“Hadley.” I brushed my fingers across her cheek. “Wake up.”

She didn’t move as bursts of lightning lit up the room.

“Hadley. You need to get up.”

She stretched under the covers as she came to.

“Don’t speak. Don’t argue. Get in the back of my closet. Call the police. Stay there.”

Hadley shot upright. I took her face between my palms.

“There’s someone downstairs. I’m going down. You’re staying here. Call the cops. Stay very quiet. Do not come out no matter what you hear.”

“No, Josh,” she pleaded in a panicked whisper, grabbing at my wrists. “Don’t go down there.”

“Put this on.” I shoved the sweatshirt at her. “Now,” I demanded when she hesitated.

She pulled it over her head, climbing out of bed. “Please. Stay.”

“The storm has gotten worse. We don’t know how bad the roads are or how long it will take for the police to get here. The security lights are out. That means the generator isn’t running. It isn’t a coincidence.”

“But—”

“Don’t,” I insisted, placing my cell phone in her hand.

My course was set. I pushed her toward the closet and into the darkest corner under my hanging shirts.

“I love you. I promise, Punky, I’ll come back.”

Prying her hands from mine, I stepped away, ignoring her pleas and closing the door behind me to encase her in protective darkness.

I crept out of my bedroom and locked the door from the inside. The intermittent hissing noise continued below. I descended the stairs. Halfway down, I paused. Flashes of white through the windows filled the open space, and I noticed a dark, contiguous line drawn across walls. It continued through the foyer and, as I peeked around the corner, into the kitchen and living room. Then the smell hit me. Spray paint.

I released the safety on my weapon and held up my flashlight.

As I continued downstairs, the next step creaked. It felt like an air horn in a museum. A sharp, shrill noise that pinched every nerve. I heard a spray can drop to the wood floor. Footsteps ran toward me. I rushed to the bottom of the stairs as a dark figure blurred past.

“Hey!” I clicked on the flashlight.

He darted toward the door to the garage, so I lunged after him, grabbing the hood of his sweatshirt. Scott fell to the floor. Sprawled on his ass, he stared up at me, into the barrel of my pistol as I pulled back the hammer.

Open black sores dotted his chin and jaw. In the blue beam of the flashlight, I saw nothing: He was no one anymore, eyes vacant. Weeks ago he was a whole person; now he was half dead.

“Fuck, Scott.” I released the hammer on the gun and engaged the safety. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He shuffled back on his palms, scrambling to his feet. Scott squinted at the flashlight.

I stared at this hollow shell of my friend, a man I’d known for years, and realized how far he’d deteriorated. His unfocused eyes darted between my face and the gun at my side.

“Scott, why?”

But he wouldn’t say a word. Across his face played a struggle of indecision.

“Look at yourself, man. This isn’t you.”

“Fuck you, Josh. You ruined my life, took everything I had.”

“You chose this. You chose those pills over the band. So you break into my house? For what, a few bucks for your next score? Go home, Scott. Figure your shit out.”

“Right, because you don’t owe me anything. You treat people like shit and just expect them to stand and take it. But what gives you the right to judge me? You have no idea what I’ve been through. You’re so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you don’t even see the people around you. We exist. We have our own problems. Wake the fuck up, Josh.”

He had a point. The sad reality was that I’d let this happen. We all had. If I’d been paying attention to anything beyond my selfish narrow view, I might have noticed when his spiral began. I might have seen the signs. At the very least, I should have been there for him. Tried harder. He had one foot in the ground, and only now did he have my attention.

“You’re right.” I tucked the pistol in the waistband of my jeans behind my back. “I should have been a better friend. I’m sorry, Scott. I pushed you out, but I can help. Let me help. I’ll do whatever I can. You just need to get clean and then—”

“Do you hear yourself?” He scratched at his neck, shaking his head in disgust. “It’s like you can’t help but talk down to people.”

“I’m trying, please. If you don’t want my help, at least go to your family. They must be worried about you.”

“Nah, man. I can’t go back there. It’s too late for that.”

“So what, then? You can’t run.”

“What does that mean?” His head jerked up, eyes alert and accusing.

“The police are on their way. Hadley’s upstairs terrified. You can’t just run from this one. But if you let me help you—”

Scott looked toward the front window, then turned and ran. I followed him through the garage and into the mud, pleading with him to stay. Under the pelting rain, I watched him dive into his waiting car and fishtail through two inches of floating forest debris clogging the gravel driveway. I didn’t breathe until his taillights became invisible through the trees.

When I turned around, I saw the barrel of a hunting rifle with Hadley behind it. She stood ghostly still in the center of the garage. Her face a placid surface betraying no emotion, like a sleepwalker blind to the world around her.

“Hadley,” I said, my voice a timid shudder. “It’s me.”

She didn’t acknowledge my words but flinched when I moved toward her.

“Punky, it’s okay. It’s just me. He’s gone.”

She crumpled to floor, clinging to the rifle pointed at the ceiling. I pried the gun from her hands and slid it across the floor.

“Sweetheart?” Kneeling, I set down the flashlight and took her face in my hands.

“I always knew it was there,” she said, referring to the rifle I thought had been a secret since the day Tom stashed it in the foyer closet.

“Did you know it’s unloaded?”