Unraveling You 02 Raveling You (18 page)

I step up to the mic again, grip the stand, and run my fingers through my hair as some guy whistles at me from the crowd. “You make me weak. You make me strong. You make me ache. You make me feel so wrong. You make me burn for just a taste. You make me, make me, so fucking insane!” My voice carries flawlessly over the room.

And I can’t help myself.

I smile, realizing this dream of mine just might be possible.

I create magic for the next forty-five minutes, and by the time we’re finished, I feel like I’m glowing.

“Thank you!” I shout into the microphone then bounce off stage with the biggest smile plastered on my face.

My skin is damp, I reek of sweat, and I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I hug Sage and Nolan after we make it backstage, and then I throw my arms around Ayden and hug the crap out of him.

“That was so much fun,” I say, then throw my head back when he lifts me up off the ground and spins me around and around.

“You were amazing,” he whispers in my ear, sneaking a bite of my earlobe.

“So were you.” I kiss his cheek, and then he plants my feet back down on the floor.

“Who wants to celebrate?” Sage’s pumps a fist into the air, grasping a bottle of champagne.

“Where’d you get that?” I ask. “Did you steal it from one of the other bands or sneak it out from the bar?”

“Does it really matter?” He moves to pop the cork, but to no avail, showing his lack of experience with champagne bottles.

“Dammit, let me go find an opener.” He strolls off, putting swagger in his step as he passes by a few older women batting their eyelashes and grinning at him.

“Oh, the life of a rock star.” Grinning, I shake my head. “He’s going to be a handful. Isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Ayden agrees with amusement. “Every band has one, though.”

“So what do we do now?” My mind promptly conjures up very creative and vivid images.

“We could exchange our belated Christmas presents,” he suggests. “It might be fun.”

“I thought we were going to do that later?  When we were happy.”

“You look pretty happy right now.”

“But what about you?”

“I’m happy just seeing you happy.” When I hesitate, his brow cocks. “Do you really want to wait even longer? Or are you just procrastinating because you don’t have mine?”

“I actually do.” Which is the truth. But the present isn’t bought so I’m uncertain how much Ayden will like it. Still, it did come from the heart. “Alright, let’s do this. Hand it over.”

“I don’t have it with me.” He nods his head at the bar. “But we can go get our moms and head home and I’ll give it to you. Lila’s looking pretty tipsy anyway.”

 I stick out my elbow and he links arms with me. “Sounds like a deal.”

An hour later, Ayden and I are in my bedroom on my bed with the door open. Music is floating from my stereo and a soft trail of light flows from my lamp. My mom and Aunt Lila are downstairs with Kale, Everson, and Fiona, drunkenly chatting, so loud we can hear them all the way upstairs.

“They’re trashed,” Ayden remarks as he tosses my present in the air like a baseball. It’s small, about the size of mine, with shiny silver and purple wrapping paper.

“Not as bad as last New Year’s.” My present for Ayden is secured in the palm of my hand. I’m nervous to give it to him. I don’t know why. Maybe because the gift kind of means something?  “Remember how giggly they were. Like two silly teenage girls.”

“You’re a teenage girl,” Ayden reminds me with a clever grin.

I smack my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Duh. Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot.”

He shakes his head, half grinning. Then he shoves his hand in my direction, presenting his gift. “You open yours first.”

I snatch the present from him, tear open the paper, and lift the lid from the box. Inside are two leather bands with the words
Endlessly Yours
engraved on them.

“You mentioned once that your parents used to have leather bands that said forever on them and how they used to be best friends like us,” he explains as I stare inside the box. “I remember how happy you looked when you told me about it and how you said that one day you were going to be with a guy that would get you something like that. I didn’t want to make them exactly the same, though, so I went with endlessly yours.”

I’m quiet for a lengthy amount of time, mainly because I’m way too emotionally overwhelmed to speak.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” he says self-consciously. “Or you can keep them both and give the other to someone else one day.”

I finally find my voice. “You said ‘how they used to be best friends like us’.”

“Huh?”

“Just barely. You said that we used to be friends like how my parents used to be friends.”

Pink hues his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t really mean it like that. We’re still best friends now, like your parents are, too. I just meant that we were like them in the sense that we used to be friends but now we’re…” He scratches at the back of his neck, glancing at the door like he wants to bolt.

I place my hand on his arm. “We’re more than friends, Ayden.” When I withdraw my hand, he turns his head and looks at me. I take the bracelets out of the box, slide one on my wrist, then slip the other on his. “And I think this is going to prove it even more.” I hand my present to him.

He gingerly rips off the paper then opens the tiny box. “We think so alike it’s frightening.” He removes the two faded leather bracelets. Each one is engraved with
Forever
.

“Definitely, but I like that we do.”

He puts the band on his wrist, then his fingers circle my arm and he slips the other bracelet on my wrist. His fingertips are right above my pulse and I wonder if he can feel how rapid my heart is racing. “Endlessly yours forever,” he says, staring at the bracelets together.

“The ones I gave you were actually my parents,” I say when he doesn’t release my wrist. “My mom gave them to me the other day when I asked her for present ideas. It kind of makes me wonder if she knows about us, since the bracelets are so symbolic to her and my dad’s relationship.”

“After tonight, I’m pretty sure Ethan might be wondering if something’s up, too.”

“I hope they don’t know yet.” My gaze flicks to the door then a smile curves at my lips as I lean in. “I like being able to be in my room alone with you still.” I stop when our lips are an inch away. “Thank you for my present.”

“You’re welcome… And thanks—” He eliminates the space between our mouths, cutting himself off.

I grab at his shirt and pull him down as I lie back on my bed. Our tongues entwine as our bodies align. Our chests collide, my heart slamming inside my chest and knocking against his unsteady heartbeat. His hands skate across my body, along my curves, the arch of my breast, and my hips, his fingers tremulously as he rocks against me.

I moan and my fingers form a mind of their own, wandering, wandering, wandering, to the bottom of his shirt. I want to touch him. Savor the feel of his skin, bask in every part of him like he’s doing with me. My fingers delve under the hem, caress his skin, fleetingly relishing his smooth, solid muscles. But then those muscles tauten along with the rest of his body.

I quickly pull my hands out. “Sorry,” I breathe against his lips.

“It’s okay.” His voice is raspy, his chest forcefully rising and falling. “Can you just touch me on the outside of my shirt?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he sputters, battling for oxygen.

I cup his face between my hands. “Don’t be sorry… You’re perfect… Everything’s perfect.”
And I think I might be in love with you.

The thought strikes me like bolt of lightning. Out of nowhere. So startling that I don’t dare utter it aloud. Too afraid. Of how he’ll react. Of how I’ll react.

Instead, I just keep kissing him and falling.

Deeper, deeper, deeper,

Into another world.

Where I don’t even know who I am anymore.

But it’s not a bad thing.

Just terrifying and confusing.

My head is so foggy yet clear.

My heart so alive, so vibrantly beating.

My body so needy, desperately seeking.

Him.

It’s all about him.

Endlessly his.

Forever.

Ayden

The next couple of weeks fly by rather fast. Life begins to return to normal as no more incidents happen with the strange man who broke into the house. The police are still looking for him, but the more days that go by, the less likely it seems that they’ll find him.

I hardly spend any time alone anymore. Someone is always with me, except for the rare occasion when I’m driving somewhere by myself, like to therapy. The Gregorys had an alarm installed in their home, which shows how worried they are, not just about the break-in, but because I’ve been sleep walking more frequently. I think they worry I’ll wander off in the middle of the night.

On a positive note, the band is doing pretty fantastic. After our exceptional performance at the opening, Mr. Scott is allowing us to play every other Friday night and wants us to put together some songs to hopefully record in the future months.

And Ethan hasn’t mentioned anything about catching Lyric and I mid kiss. I think he does know about the relationship, though, because every time he sees Lyric and I together, a suspicious look crosses his face.

I have therapy once a week after school, both my regular sessions and my amnesia one. After all the sessions, my mind is as empty as it was to begin with. Dr. Gardingdale thinks it’s because my fear is blocking my memories. I agree with him, but until I can figure out a way to eliminate that fear, there’s not much I can do.

After school, I make the ten-minute drive to the office. We start out with my normal session. Dr. Gardingdale asks me the same questions about how I’ve been doing and I give the same answers. I try to stay away from the Lyric subject, not ready to discuss her with him. Yet I somehow accidentally imply that I’m seeing someone.

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone.” Across the desk, Dr. Gardingdale gapes at me, stunned.

I shake my head, ready to deny it, but then hesitate. Maybe it’s time to tell someone about Lyric and me, get the secret off my chest. Make it more real. Besides, it’s not like the doctor can tell anyone.

“Well... I might be, but I just haven’t said anything about it.”

“Why not?” His overly bushy brows furrow as he jots something in the legal pad he uses to take notes.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m confused and worried.” I fiddle with the leather bands on my wrist. Endlessly yours forever. My heart still races just thinking about that night, my emotions a jumble. That night had meant something. To me. To Lyric. To both of us. I’m really falling for her. But I still feel so guilty, still feel unworthy of her.

“Worried and confused about what?” The doctor interrupts my thoughts.

“About how my parents will react.” I realize I referred to Mr. and Mrs. Gregory as my parents.

That’s a new one... I don’t even know what to make of it. What it means about me. That I’m progressing? I shouldn’t be so surprised since I’m progressing with Lyric as well.

I trace the cracks in the wooden armrest of the chair I’m sitting in. “And I’m confused because… I don’t know, even though I love Lyric’s company, I’m still afraid.”

“Of what?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I think we’ve talked enough that you know what I’m afraid of.”

He drums his pencil on his desk. “I know we’ve talked about a lot of fears, so I’m not positive which one you’re referring to right now.”

Even though I know he’s trying to heal me, I hate when he makes me say things I don't want to aloud.

“My fear that I’ve been sexually abused at some point in my life… At some point when I was in that house. And I’m afraid that I’ll never fully be able to get over it—that I’ll never be the person Lyric deserves.” My fingers curl around the armrests. “I don’t know why you make me say it when you already know what I’m going to say.”

He scribbles in the notepad the sets the pen down. “Because I believe it’s important for you to verbalize them instead of keeping things locked in like you’ve done in the past.”

I roll my tongue in my mouth, aggravated at myself for being so messed up. “So you think it’s been a good thing for me to go to this amnesia therapy? I mean, it’s gotten me to speak about stuff aloud, even though it hasn’t really done anything to strike up the right memories.”

“You seem really agitated today.”

“I’m agitated every day that I have to come to these amnesia sessions.”

He loosens his tie that has smiley faces on it, conveying happiness that never happens while I’m in these four walls. Our sessions have been about splitting me open and bleeding me dry. Coming here is emotionally exhausting, but as long as Lila and Ethan want me to continue seeing the doctor, I will. They gave me a roof over my head. Got dragged into a police investigation. Got dragged into a mess with a group of people who worship evil.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.” He gathers a large blue mug from his desk and takes sip of coffee. “If it’s becoming too much for you to handle then it’s too much for you to handle.”

“The police aren’t really giving me a choice.” I anxiously jiggle my leg up and down. “Well, they are, but if I don’t do it, I’m pretty much refusing to help track down my brother’s killers… and the people who tried to ruin my life. They’ve been really pushy, too, calling Lila all the time and asking for reports.”

“I’ll suggest he not call so much the next time I speak to Detective Rannali. He needs to understand that these things can’t be rushed and that it takes time.” His phone vibrates on the desk, and he silences it without checking the screen. “How are things going with the Gregorys? You haven’t really said much about them lately.”

“They’re going good. I feel bad that they have to go through all this stuff, but they seem okay with it for some reason.” It feels late, well past the normal hour I usually spend here.  Out the window, twilight has risen and kissed the sky with silver stars. Usually our session ends before the sun fully sets. “Did we run late today? Shouldn’t we be starting the amnesia therapy already?”

“Yes, but Lila just requested that I spend an extra hour with you today before we delve into that.” His phone hums again. This time he picks it up and presses a few buttons. “She felt that with everything going on, you might need some extra time to discuss how you’re feeling.”

“How I’m feeling about what?” Removing my keys out of my pocket, I trace the jagged edge of across the palm of my hand, trying to channel my restless energy stemming from knowing that shortly we’ll be trying to crack open my head.

He sets down the phone and overlaps his hands on his desk. “The fear that your capturers might still be out there.”

“That’s not a new revelation. I’ve always known they were out there.”

“I know, but in a way, the loss of your brother has brought the memory of that back into your life. And the incident with the break-in—it has to be hard to deal with.”

“The police don’t know for sure if our kidnappers were the ones who killed my brother or broke into my house.” A lump swells in my throat at the mention of my brother’s death.

“I also heard you played your first concert.” He avoids my statement. “That had to be stressful.”

“Not really. Playing relaxes me more than anything. Lyric was pretty nervous, though.”

“Lyric, the girl you’re dating?” he asks, even though he knows her. Not only because I talk about her sometimes, but because she had a session with him after William assaulted her.

I nod. “That would be the Lyric I’m talking about.”

He opens a file and glances at a paper inside. “Does she know what’s going on with you at all?”

I nod again. Lyric knows more than most people. Maybe even more than my therapist.

“Do you talk to her about your past a lot?” he asks, shutting the folder.

“Sometimes.”

“About what exactly?”

“Everything I can.”

He meticulously examines my expression over, hunting for cracks in my façade. Like always, I grow uneasy. What does he see? A broken shell of a guy that may never be fixed?

My phone abruptly vibrates from inside my pants pocket, giving me an excuse to look away from his scrutinizing gaze.

Lila: Hey, when is your therapy going to be done? I want to know when I should start dinner.

Me: We should be starting the amnesia therapy soon. It usually only takes about fifteen minutes.

Lila: K. See u soon. And drive careful, sweetie.

“We should wrap this up.” I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, ready to get the next part over. “It’s getting late and Lila needs me home anyway.”

“Alright, lie down on the sofa then.” He motions at the leather couch nestled in the corner of the room near his filing cabinet and the window.

The ceiling has an unpainted spot where the plaster shows through. I don’t know why, but whenever I lie down, I always find myself picturing it caving in and the sheetrock raining down on me.

The doctor turns on some mellow music, a symphony of violins. Then he turns on the camera, sits down in a chair in front of me, and clicks on a timer.

“Close your eyes, Ayden,” he begins with a droning tone. “You’re in a safe place, where no one can hurt you. Now, let your mind relax.”

Like always, I fleetingly feel like I’m falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Then I crash into a wall.

You can’t think about it.

You aren’t allowed.

There was a reason for your amnesia.

You think we’d let you off that easy.

You think we’d really let you go.

Don’t think too much.

Or you’re going to lose control.

We’re going to come after you.

Dark eyes… thin bodies…. yellow teeth… blue and red lights flash as sirens near closer to the home. Someone is banging on the door, shouting, “Open up!”

My sister lifts her head, life in her eyes for the first time. My brother is curled up in the corner, though, thin, frail, so close to death.

Our capturers flee, but not without an impending warning.

“No one escapes,” the woman whispers as she stabs her fingernails into my hands. “We’ll come back for you.” Her face… blurred… but the pain… is excruciating.

My eyelids spring open to the patch on the ceiling. The room is quiet, but my heart thunders like a storm inside my chest.

Dr. Gardingdale waits patiently at my side with pen and paper in his hand and hope in his eyes that I’ll tell him I remembered the identities of the people.

“I saw a few images, but everyone’s faces are blurred over and honestly, none of what I’m seeing makes sense,” I tell him as I sit up and plant my feet on the floor. As usual, the room twirls around me in hazy colors and shapes. “They threatened us, though, when we left the house. Said they’d come back for us.” Invisible fingers wrap around my neck and my oxygen supply dwindles. “You should probably tell the police that. Or I will.”

He nods his head at the camera. “They’ll see this when I give them the video tomorrow.”

I massage my aching chest. “Did I say anything aloud to you by chance?”

He sighs heavily. “Unfortunately no, which I find strange, especially considering you’ve been sleep walking and talking so much at home. It’s like your mind opens up after the sessions.”

“Is that common?”

“It’s hard to say.” He removes his glasses and cleans them off with the bottom of his shirt. “This therapy—hypnotherapy as a lot call it—isn’t something performed that frequently. And your case is extremely complex.” He slides his glasses back on. “But, Ayden, if this doesn’t start working... I… there might be some other treatments you might consider trying… they’re a bit more experimental and have risks, though.”