Unravel

  It was all of those things wrapped into one. It built, and gathered speed, and catapulted us to that one kiss.

  A kiss that changed everything.

  I brushed my finger against my lower lip. I couldn’t even call it a kiss. A kiss to me was two people’s lips touching. Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s sweet and innocent. Sometimes lust takes over.

  But never does a kiss combust into something so powerful that even your heart feels it. Every touch, every moan, every breath becomes electrified.

  Max felt it too. I was sure of it. He wasn’t ready to admit the truth out loud. I couldn’t blame him; we were both out of our league.

  I closed my eyes, expecting Max to be the first thing I saw. But he wasn’t. It was Lachlan. I groaned in anguish and rubbed my temples, trying to erase the image of him. Not here. Not right now. He wasn’t supposed to ruin this for me.

  Get out of my head. Get out. Get out. Get out.

  My mind wanted to revert. It wanted to go back to all the memories of Lachlan and stay there. I couldn’t let that happen. The edges of my vision started to become hazy. I pushed away those memories as hard as I could.

  I stood up. Talking to Lana would make things better. I would tell her everything that happened with Max. She would listen to me, like a good friend should, and would give me sound advice. I would ask her what she did tonight. She would tell me. Minutes later we would be on a totally different topic, far away from the realities of our worlds.

  It was pitch black outside but there were spotlights hidden behind the trimmed shrubs, shining onto the house. Lana’s family’s home was an old Antebellum mansion that had been in the family for centuries. Lana came from old money and it showed. Behind their house was a large red barn where the family’s horses were. When Lana wanted to escape and get away from everything, she would go for a ride and clear her mind.

  It made absolutely no sense to see her horse walking free. His hooves crunched on the gravel. He walked right past me. His ears were moving back and forth at a rapid pace. His nostrils were flared. Normally, he was a calm horse. One that took after his master. But his fear and restlessness was apparent.

  Alarm bells started to ring in my head. Something wasn’t right.

  I looked over my shoulder at the barn. The door was cracked open. I didn’t hear any noise. Everything appeared fine. But unease made the hairs on my arm stand up. Fear trickled through my body and I should’ve turned around and gone back to the safety of my home but I walked forward.

  Only a few steps away from the barn, I heard the noises. Something tipped over and crashed. I heard someone gasp or wheeze and then a grunt. It was one of those moments where my mind was screaming for me to stop and not go any further. But I couldn’t not look. I peeked my head inside the barn and I saw Lana pinned against the wooden beam. A large forearm was pressed against her throat, cutting her off from speaking, crying out or even breathing. Her pants and underwear were around her knees. Her blue jean jacket was open. I saw her shirt was torn at the collar.

  All of my own problems disappeared and were replaced with terror. Complete, mind numbing terror. This wasn’t two people getting away and acting on lust—that complete obsession to be with each other.

  There was nothing consensual about what I was seeing.

  Lana’s eyes were squeezed shut as the man grunted like an animal as he moved in and out of her. His free hand gripped her hip and it wasn’t out of love. It was to keep her in place.

  I was detached from my body. Watching myself frozen in place. What was I doing? MOVE! One foot in front of the other. How hard was that? But I couldn’t. It was like I was in quicksand and stuck in place, and slowly sinking as I watched the scene unfold.

  I’d always assumed, that in a moment of panic, I would react swiftly and rationally. I would use my brain. My emotions would shut down and I would draw from the adrenaline coursing through my body to get through it all.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I glanced around frantically at the house. I need to get my phone, I thought to myself. No. I needed to run to the back door and get help. I couldn’t settle on a single thing to do.

  I closed my eyes. Tears streamed down my face. I went to cover my ears, to block out all the noises but the sounds had stopped.

  The silence was deafening. I was afraid to open my eyes. When I did, the man turned to face me. He didn’t look my way. His shirt was loose. His pants were unzipped, showing his flaccid dick. I recoiled from that visual. God, I wish I knew how to use a gun. I would aim it right between his legs.

  Lana was slumped against that wooden beam. Her pants were still around her ankles. He was breathing heavily while Lana kept her gaze on the ground. He leaned down and his knees made a popping noise. Out of everything I saw tonight, I flinched at that action.

  He laughed, and it was filled with so much hate and rage. “You know I’m the only fucking person that truly loves you, right?” he said.

  Lana stayed silent. He jerked her hair tightly by the root, until she was looking at him. She stared at him with rigid composure. Her eyes were void and I realized, in that moment, that she was used to this treatment.

  His voice rose as he stared down at her. “Right?” He tugged and her skull hit the beam.

  “You’re right,” Lana croaked. She cleared her throat and started over. “You’re right. You’re right. I know. I’ll be good,” she whispered like a little girl.

  He nodded once before he zipped his pants up and walked toward the open door.

  I panicked. Fear made me turn and move on shaky legs. Fear made my heart speed up until I was panting for breath. I ran around the corner of the barn. My back rested against the wood. My hands were placed on my bent knees. I felt like I was seconds away from losing my dinner.

  Gravel crunched loudly, and I held my breath, straining to hear his movements. Finally, I heard the screen door shut. I waited until it finally felt safe to move before I ran back to the barn. Lana was still sitting, but now her jeans were buttoned up. She clutched her jacket together with one hand and rested her forehead against her knee. Her entire body shook violently before she leaned sideways and threw up. The sounds coming from her made me cringe. When there was nothing left in her stomach, she sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  I stepped into the entryway. “Lana?”

  Her head shot up and the pole light right outside the door brought light inside the dark barn, enough that I could see the wet streaks on her cheeks.

  I walked closer and she stood, albeit on shaky legs, and turned to stare at an empty horse stall.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  The look on her face and the hunch of her shoulders made me want to run forward and hold on to her as tightly as I could.

  She wiped her cheeks and gave me a shaky smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Like a dummy, I stood there, staring at her blankly. Were we going to pretend that everything was okay? I turned back toward the house, making sure no one was watching us. I kneeled beside her.

  “Lana, I saw everything,” I whispered.

  A loud hiccup was her only reaction.

  I repeated myself. This time, with heavy emphasis.

  A painful groan tore from her throat and it seemed like years went by before she slowly nodded. It was her only acknowledgement to the situation.

  “We need to get you to the hospital,” I said.

  “No!” she rushed out.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I’m not going.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not going to change a thing.”

  “Yes, it will! It will never happen again.”

  “But it will,” she said very quietly.

  She finally looked at me. I saw her fear and I saw the humiliation.

  I had so many questions. How long has this been going on? Does your mom know? Why didn’t you tell me?

  And I had to keep
them all to myself; Lana could barely breathe, let alone talk.

  I stood up. I dragged all ten fingers through my hair in frustration and paced back and forth.

  Processing everything was like swallowing glass. Painful. So painful.

  I turned and my words burst from my chest like a bullet releasing from the chamber. “He’s your dad,” I said brokenly.

  My knees gave out. I sat next to Lana. My shoulder touched hers. I could feel her pain as if it was my own. And it was so heavy and so consuming that a sob tore from my throat. Lana was crying into her hands. I felt useless, like I couldn’t do a damn thing to ease her pain.

  She continued to cry and I turned my head to stare at her family’s beautiful house. My teeth were grinding together and my eyes narrowed. Not a damn thing? Logic whispered. Fight for her. Fight since no one else will.

  My session with Dr. Rutledge backfired. It was all my fault. I knew better than to give her a small piece of the story; she can walk away from everything I tell her, but I live with it every day.

  I’m sitting on my bed. My shoulder blades graze the wall. My fingers wrap around my legs. My toes curl into the sheets. I rock back and forth, trying to breathe calmly but it comes out convulsive.

  I need to sleep, but I can’t.

  Light faded hours ago. The moon is barely out, but there’s enough light to cast a purple hue into my room. I see the shadow of the naked tree limbs on my floor. They sway in the sky, back and forth. I see that frozen icicle. Still solid. Still hanging on. And I try to remind myself that I can hang on too.

  But my resolve slips. My eyes drift to the corner of the room. And I see the man sitting there, watching me with cold, unblinking eyes. It’s Lana’s dad. He looks like he wants to tear me apart.

  I hear his voice. It’s gritty. It’s harsh. It makes my blood freeze in my veins.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asks

  Sweat beads on my upper lip as I stare down at my legs.

  Don’t you speak to him. Don’t you dare, I tell myself.

  I look up.

  He crouches down. I hear his joints pop from the movement. It sounds like thunder. It ricochets in my skull until I grip the sides of my head in pain to make it stop.

  He’s the one that speaks to me. He’s the one that terrifies me. He’s the very core of my nightmares.

  “You’re nothing. You know that, right? That bitch of a doctor sees through your lies. When she gives up on you, who will be with you after that?” His voice rises. “No one! No one but me!”

  His words are like acid. They burn my soul. Dissolve my hope. It opens up old wounds and makes them bleed. I scream in agony. I scream at the top of my lungs to block out his voice. But he rises to my challenge and now he’s screaming too.

  Fingernails dig into my scalp. I smell the metallic scent of my blood and keep pressing harder and harder.

  Mary runs into my room. I keep screaming, but I watch as she looks at me and turns in a circle, looking around the room. She won’t see him. And I knew she wouldn’t. He won’t reveal himself to her.

  He stops yelling. I stop yelling. His lips kick up in a grin. He holds a finger to his lips and shakes his head.

  I drop my head onto my knees and start to whimper.

  “Naomi,” Mary huffs. She yanks my hands away from my ears. “What’s wrong?”

  She bends down with an expectant look on her face. I blink once. Twice.

  “I-I need something to make me sleep,” I stutter.

  Mary drops my wrists like they’re poison. “I’ve already given you your medication.”

  She encourages me to lie down but I stay upright.

  “It’s not working,” I say impatiently. “I need more.”

  “I can’t give you more.”

  She gently tries to lay me back down on the bed but I resist.

  “Why not? I need it.” Tiny pricks of pain start to form behind my eyes the longer I stare at Mary. My hand shoots out. I hold onto her arm tightly. “I need to sleep. I need to—”

  I need to forget. I need one minute of the day where I don’t feel mind-numbing terror.

  She wrenches her arm free and walks backwards to the door. “Naomi, I can’t go above Dr. Rutledge’s head. She prescribes your medication and dosages.”

  “That’s a fucking joke!” I yell.

  “Talk to Dr. Rutledge about it tomorrow.”

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow!” Mary looks away and I plead. “Please, Mary.”

  For a second, I see a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. Only a second.

  “You’ll sleep just fine,” she says before she walks to the door. It shuts with a firm click.

  Mary thinks she’s keeping me safe by shutting the door, that exhaustion will take over and I’ll go to sleep. But she just locked me inside with the devil.

  I’m in hell.

  I’m in hell.

  After Mary leaves, I turn into the headcase she thinks I am. I pound on the door. I kick. I shout. I go to my desk and pick up the chair and throw it at the door.

  And the whole time he watches me in the corner with a knowing smile. He picks up on my fear. That’s what attracts him. I’m giving him everything he wants: control and power. Every time I whimper, or lurch back in fear, he feeds off of it. His body becomes stronger, his voice becomes louder and this mental hold he has on me becomes painful. Gut wrenching, drop to the ground in agony painful.

  If I had more strength in me I would do the controlling. I would tell him to stay the hell away from me. I would tell him that he doesn’t scare me.

  I know that will never happen.

  My fingers curve around the edges of the desk. The door slams open. I look up and watch Mary’s reflection in the window. She turns on the light and my eyes squint, trying to adjust. My gaze moves to the figure still in the corner, still watching. Two nurses follow Mary into the room. They try to hold me down. Every muscle in my body strains against the hands holding me down on the bed. I bend and contort my body in every angle. I bite the male nurse’s forearm for holding my shoulders against the mattress. I kick at the female holding my legs down. I don’t want them touching me.

  Then the on-call doctor comes in. I see the syringe in his hand and stop straining. There it is. My relief. My lungs expand and I suck up all the air I can. Soon, it’s all going to be okay. I’ll be able to rest without seeing him.

  “Naomi, Naomi,” Lana’s dad tsks in the corner. “That’s only temporary safety. I’ll always be here waiting.”

  I ignore him and focus on the syringe. My sleeve is shoved up all the way to my bicep. I feel the doctor search for a vein and try not to jerk away from him. He finds a vein and that sharp prick of pain is worth it. I’m on the road to relief. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be there.

  Keep your eyes closed. He’s not there if you can’t see him, says the voice in my head.

  “I’ll still be here watching you,” he says in a cold voice that borders on sadistic.

  None of the people hovering around me react to his evil voice. Only I do. I’m starting to care less and less. The drug is doing its job. Very, very slowly. But I think it slowly pulls you under on purpose. So you and only you can remember the feeling.

  I look at light on the ceiling. It morphs into a kaleidoscope of white fragments. They turn into orbs that separate and break open into a million pieces. I watch them multiply and it’s a beautiful sight. Somehow, I pull my eyes away from the display and look at the faces around me. The female nurse that held my legs is now standing by my side. Her face is blurring in and out. She strokes my hair and says in a gentle voice, “Just relax.”

  I nod. Or try to.

  Just relax, just relax, I repeat to myself.

  After the doctor and nurses leave, there is nothing but the sound of my own breathing. I place a hand over my racing heart and roll over on my side. The drug is swimming through my veins, taking me over. My muscles relax. My bones start to feel weightless.

  I’m light as a feather.


  I let go and leave my body.

  I’m an apparition.

  My skin is translucent. I feel clean. My mind is at peace. I stand up from the bed and look around at the small room. I feel like I’m on a stage. I look down at my surroundings before I look down at the ugly truth—my broken self.

  I can’t believe this is me. Dull hair. Pale skin. Legs tucked close to my chest. Arms wrapped around my knees.

  I start to ache. It starts out slow, but it slowly spreads. I look at my translucent skin and a body starts to take shape. I start to feel heavy. I panic.

  I step away from the bed. I keep moving until I’m off the stage. Until I’m on the opposite side of the room, hoping that I can stay in this escape a little while longer.

  It’s too late though.

  When I open my eyes, I’m staring at the white wall. I’m back in my body. This broken, weak body.

  A feeling of security surrounds me. And then I smell the scent of pine. Seconds later, an arm wraps around my stomach. Lachlan.

  “Shut your eyes,” he whispers against my neck. “You can control your mind.”

  Heart beats in a staccato manner before it slows down. Lach-lan. Lach-lan, it beats.

  His arm tightens against me like he can hear the tune.

  “I’ll tell you a story.” His hand reaches up and moves my hair to the side. “You want me to tell you a story, kid?” he asks.

  Not once do I turn around. I don’t want to look over my shoulder and see nothing but wrinkled sheets. I don’t want this to all be in my mind. So I nod and listen to the deep timbre of his voice. So sure. So calm. Every word feels like a caress—a gentle reassurance that I just might be okay.

  Before the blackness pulls me under I hear Lachlan whisper, “Ten years ago you were brave. Ten years ago you took what you wanted. Ten years ago started the beginning of us…”