The Lonely (19 page)

My
eyes are closed. I see it all. I see it the way she says it. I can't make
Emalyn grateful though. I think they're right. I did what I could. It was the
wrong thing, but it was what I could do. I tried. I failed but I tried. I need
to let myself see that.

Eli's
words come back to haunt me. He said that if he had raped me that the one act
wouldn’t ruin who I was. I was stronger than that. In my heart of hearts I
believe that. Pulling the trigger and freeing her cannot ruin me forever. I
need to get past it or at the very least accept it.

"Be
grateful for the things that you can control. They are there for you to
control. You choose the ways you live and love. You control that. Letting go of
the other things, the things you can't control, is easy when you feel like you
control the life and the love."

I
nod. I believe her. One day I will control the way I live and love.

"You
are grateful for Mr. Adams and the way he takes care of you and loves you. He
is your family and you are grateful he chose you. Family is rarely a choice and
he chose you. As an orphan that is a great feeling."

I
take the breaths as they come, slow and steady. She lies there next to me and
doesn’t speak. It’s the quiet reflection time.

I
take a mental inventory. I am grateful for Eli. He is my family. I'm not ready
to meet the Mastermen family who I was taken from. I'm not ready for all of
that. I am grateful he and Dr. Bradley have agreed to let me take some time
before I see them. I can't bear the thought they will see me as the broken girl
I am. I want to be perfect when I see them. I just want to be normal.

I
open my eyes, but they flutter in the light. I'm not scared anymore of what
will be there when I open them. I'm not scared. Eli took my fear from me.

He
gave me hope in return.

He
took the lonely too.

Instead,
I have a broken heart and a sickening case of something I refuse to name. But
the memory of his lips on my thigh brings it back.

My
stomach convulses. I sit up.

"Done
already?"

My
face is flushed. I nod, "I need to go." I walk away and press the
elevator button like a madwoman, like always.

I
ride down alone. I'm so lost in thought, I don’t notice the man standing in the
doorway when it opens. I step out into him. I jump back, "Oh sorry."
I say, until I see it's Eli.

He
steps back and lets me out. I glance up at him. "What are you doing
here?"

He
points, "I wanted to see her." His eyes are different now. They avoid
me.

"Did
you know I was here?"

I
can see the answer in his face. "No. I expected you to still be in
session. I was going to wait in the other offices." I feel my face pinch,
thinking about the other offices. The ones with the cells and the kitchen sink.
The intense role-playing therapy offices. He sees my reaction and fakes a warm
smile, "How have you been?"

I
look up at him, even though he avoids my eyes. "Since you messaged me this
morning and told me to stop being a pain in the ass? Good."

He
laughs and runs his hands through his dark hair. I want to touch it. I want to
touch him. My insides are burning with conflict.

The
doors have closed, so he leans past me and pushes the button. The proximity and
the warmth of him heat my face up. "I need you." I whisper into his
arm, I don’t even know why.

He
steps back. I see his answer. Anxiety builds inside of me. I brush past him and
walk out into the frosty January air. I grip my coat and walk to the car.
Stuart waves at me.

I
take a relaxing inhale and let go of the rejection. Eli is a head case too.
He's the male version of me.

Stuart
opens the door and I catch a glint of something in his eye. "Wipe the smug
look off that face." I say as I climb in.

He
chuckles and climbs in. The car is started and warm. "I still cannot
believe that shit worked. Look at you, touching doors and shit. You were the
toughest nut to crack girl."

I
snort. I look out the window.

"You
know you're a different girl right? Sarah, you look different, you talk
different, you walk different. No more orphan Annie." I meet his dark eyes
in the rearview. I see myself differently in his eyes. He nods, "It was
worth it. It might not feel like it today or next month, but it was."

I
pull out my cell phone and notice the messages I've missed. I still have to
have it on at all times. I still have to answer his messages. His rules are
still in place but I obey them now for a different reason.

'I
need to see you this evening. I need to talk to you.'
I shudder. The last time he sent a message like
that, I ended up in a cell. I don’t get how he can talk to me on text but not
to my face. I wonder if it's the same as me and Sebastian separated by the
bathroom door.

I
think about myself fantasizing about him the way I do Sebastian and shake my
head. I should have called the cops. Shell was right. I should have called
them.

The
realization brings back a thought. I glance up and look at Stuart in the
mirror, "She comes back today. You excited?" I ask.

"No.
I know she is gonna kick my ass for taking part in it all."

I
laugh in agreement, "Yeah. She is. She still thinks I should call the
cops. She's pissed and I haven’t even told her anything yet."

His
eyes flinch, "I know."

I
smile, "I believed you were hurt. She is going to hate that fact. That you
tricked me."

"I
know."

I
shake my head, "I still can't believe you tricked me."

He
puffs up his chest and misses the heartache in my eyes and the point I am
making. "Three years of theatre." He looks proud of himself.

I
shake my head, "Are you even from Wichita?"

He
shakes his head, "Nope. Detroit. Dr. Bradley said I should be from a
southern state because studies show women feel safer with men with southern
accents. They're more calming." He drops the Kansas accent.

I
feel sick. "Is your name even Stuart?"

He
laughs, "Yeah."

"How
did you get into this?"

His
eyes narrow. He watches me for a second and then looks back at the road,
"Dr. Bradley, she's my doctor too. I've helped on a couple now. All the
people there were either doctors or patients who have survived and come back
around. No one else would get it. It's extreme and harsh but it's the only way
sometimes."

I
doubt the authenticity of the story for a second, but the look in his eyes
isn’t something anyone can fake. It's the look a person gets when they remember
something they'd rather forget.

"Do
you ever just wish it had been you that didn’t make it?" I ask and stare
out the window.

"Everyday."
His words are hollow like mine.

The
door bursts open. She leaps at me. She hugs and examines every inch. Tears have
claimed her face and mine. She wraps around me and pulls me into her. I can't
hear anything she says over the shriek in her voice. I feel like I'm in a
melodrama.

She
stands up and kicks the door closed, wiping her face. She's huffing and
puffing. It takes her a minute before she speaks.

"Did
they hurt you badly?"

I
lick my lips and nod. I don’t have the ability to lie to her.

"Sexually?"

I
grimace and shake my head.

"Beatings?"

I
avert my eyes.

She
breathes through her flared nostrils, "I'll kill him. I'll friggen kill
him."

"Just
sit."

She
paces and rants, "I will peel his god damned skin from his body. How are
you so calm? God damned. I was so worried." She sighs and sits beside me.
She drops her dark head into her hands and shakes it back and forth, "You
scared me."

"Scared
me too."

She
turns her head and frowns, "You seem different."

I
laugh bitterly, "That was the point."

"Just
start at the beginning and tell me every detail."

I
sit back on the bed and let it flow out of my mouth. I watch her expressions as
the words roll of my tongue. She cries and shudders. It no longer feels real to
me. I've been combing through it in my therapy detox for weeks. I'm exhausted
thinking about it. But for her it's new and real and painful. She looks
horrified and when I finish she doesn’t speak. She curls into a ball and cries.
I pat her hair and rub her back. I comfort her.

"I
don’t mean to be selfish. I-I-'m so sorry." She heaves. She lies there for
a long time. The sun starts to go down.

"Are
you scared you'll never get past this?" She whispers into the muted dusk
light.

"Yes
and no. Sometimes I think it will never go away. I still have moments where I
can't feel anything or I feel too much and get overload. Doctor Bradley has
been helping me. I started heavy sessions with her. Eight hours a day of
intensive therapy. I am so talked out. It's not even funny."

"I
hate that they did that to you and you're so calm."

I
laugh. "I wasn't calm. I cried for long time. I couldn’t talk. They made
me look at hundreds of photos of her. They made me see her the other way and
write her letters. I begged to go back to the cell for days." I hold out
my arm, where a bandage covers the scab, "I smashed a window and cut
myself on the glass."

She
turns and looks at me, "You?"

"Yeah.
It just doesn't feel real. It's like a movie I don’t want to watch because it
makes my tummy hurt."

She
frowns, "It makes my tummy hurt too. I can see you, all little and scared
in the hole."

I
frown at her, "Don’t try to see it. It already ruined the person I would
have been. Don't let it in."

A
single tear makes its way down her cheek, "It's hard. When I think about
it I want to go on a rampage." Her lip trembles.

I
laugh, "New Leaf?"

She
laughs, "We need to burn the old friggen tree down and plant a new one. In
a different country. Not just a New Leaf but a new everything." I laugh
with her. It feels nice to laugh. For real. She plays with my hair, "How
is he so rich and hot and normal?"

I
shake my head, "He's rich and hot, but he's not normal. I see a sickness
in his eyes. They're broken like mine. Like a mirror with cracks in it but none
of the glass has fallen out of the frame."

"Spooky."

I
stare out the darkening window, "Yeah."

"I
feel so bad for him. I mean I feel bad for you too, but he knew his life
before. You know?"

I
nod, "I hate that his life is this. That I was part of the reason it
became what it is."

"Em,
you know you didn’t do it."

I
smirk. She grimaces, "Sarah. Sorry."

I
laugh, "I can't get past it either. I've been Em for so long. Em the
orphan."

She
sits up, "Why did you lie about it? Why did you make your name Em?"

I
shrug, "I just remember loving her name when I met her. She was so pretty
and clean. I named my Barbie Emalyn the day they got there. When the police
found me and asked me my name, it just burst out. I didn’t want to be Sarah.
Sarah was the name of the girl who killed Emalyn. She didn’t deserve to live
on."

She
grabs my arms, "You didn’t kill her. The circumstances did. No six-year
old who lived the way you did can be blamed for that."

"I
know. It's just hard. I can feel the gun in my hands. The facts are the facts.
My statement is being given to the police. Eli's parents will see it. They'll
know it wasn’t him, for sure." That gives me a sense of peace.

She
snuggles into me again, "You didn’t do it. Killing someone is taking the
gun and shooting them. Not missing him and hitting her. It was an
accident."

"It
hurts the same either way."

She
squeezes my arm, "I love you homie. Sarah or Em or whatever. I love you.
You're the same to me no matter what. I know your heart. I know you couldn’t
hurt a fly."

I
feel a sickening amount of relief. Tears slip from my eyes. I was so worried
she would hate me. I was terrified she wouldn't understand. Like she would see
the gun in my hands, the way I do.

She
looks around the room. "It is different in here. It's dirty and there
isn’t a variety of hand sani on every counter or shelf." She looks at me,
she has avoided my eye contact for a few minutes, "What do you
remember?"

I
twitch my foot. I don’t want to answer. "All of it."

"You
remember the shootings and the Spicers?" Her voice is soft, scared.
"You remember him hurting you and the other kids? It's not just a story
that Eli convinced you to believe?"