"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?"
"I remember every second."
She looks down, "I feel so bad for you both. They made him go in the hole? He was a little boy? I don’t even know what to say, Em…S-Sarah."
I laugh, "Me either. It's cool if you call me, Em. I'm still that girl in some ways."
She smiles. It doesn’t look real. It's broken and devastated. "All the good ways. But I think you should be Sarah now. Let Em rest." Her green eyes shine.
I feel my own eyes shining, "Yup."
She pretty much tackles me to the bed and wraps around me and pets my head. "We can get a second opinion if you want. Like if you don’t want to see him anymore."
I clear my throat, "I don’t…mind…seeing him."
"Well, if you need anything I know Mom and Dad will help. We talked about it at Christmas and they're not comfy with him paying for our shit anymore. And that doctor is a quack."
She is getting snot and tears on my shirt. I laugh, "Dude, it worked. I drank sink water and ate from a dog dish and was beaten and violated and humbled and humiliated and everything was taken away. But all the crazy went with it. All the fears and despair and pathetic Emalyn Spicer. I feel new. I feel brave and fearless in so many ways. Dr. Bradley is a quack, no doubt. But she is a genius quack." I glance over at her and blink, "I haven’t made you wash your hands or asked you to pick up your bags or made you take your shoes off."
She laughs a wet giggle and sniffles, "You still noticed it?"
"Yeah. Old dog new tricks. But I have never been this free. I'm free. I'm able to feel guilty and horrid and sad, but at the same time I feel excited and I have lustful thoughts. I smelled a guy yesterday with cologne and I just enjoyed it. He smelled nice. And that was it. I wasn’t scared of him. He didn’t even glance at me."
She nods, accepting it all, "Okay. I agree. If you smelled cologne and my shoes are on your bed, she might be on to something. But, I still question those methods. Harshly."
"Yup. She's freaking nuts."
We both laugh.
I sigh, "Tell me about Christmas. Is Joey still hot?"
She nudges me, "He's a player piece of shit. Never date Italian men…dude…ever."
I laugh. "I'll never date anyway." I stop laughing and turn and face her, "That’s not true. I want to date. I don’t want to let any of that define me anymore. That was old me talking out of habit."
A slow and steady smile creeps across her lips. She nods, "You are better."
I smile back, "I'm on my way." And I've made my peace with some things. Things I never want to lose.
Her eyes sparkle, "You should call Sebastian. He messaged me when your…er…Eli messaged him. He was so mad. He's good for you. He's so normal and nice and vanilla."
I bite my lip and wonder if I can. I want to. That is the difference in me. I want to try to move past it. Not give up and die in the hole I'm not really trapped in. If I'm totally honest I want to forget again. But that’s not likely.
My phone vibrates.
'Stuart will be there in fifteen.'
I glance at it and feel the excitement building inside of me. I want to see him too and it's a horrid feeling. I didn’t see how messed up he was at first, but I see it now. And some sick twisted part of me wants him still. He's stringing me along and what's worse is I see it. He wants to play victims together and get some kind of gratification for his own injuries and sadness. He talked about me getting better, but I'm concerned he hasn’t been able to get better, in fourteen years. It makes me sad. I want him to be whole too. Not just save me. Save himself.
I get up and pull my shirt off. "I have to go meet him."
"Eli? Well, I'm coming." She is defiant. I knew she would be. If it were her, I would be too. I look back, "Okay."
"Why are you changing?" She sits up.
Blush creeps across my cheeks, "Oh, uhm I did therapy in that shirt. I get sweaty."
Her jaw drops, "Shut the front door. You like him? That’s why you don’t mind seeing him. Hot, rich, nasty. Oh my god." She is disgusted.
Trying to look horrified or guilty of her accusation, I sneer, "No. I just don’t want to be sweaty."
She crosses her arms and tilts her head, "Is this that Stockholm syndrome where he holds you captive and beats you and you feel like you deserve it, so you love him?"
I shake my head. She doesn’t move. I sigh, and lower my gaze, "Maybe. I do like him. But he doesn’t see me beyond the science experiment of our therapy. I have a horrid feeling it's just leftover from before. Like he has to keep saving me to save himself." Her face is growing in horror and fear.
"You want that?"
I shake my head, "I just want him to see me. To stop seeing the little girl. And I want some of the damned control back. He has me spinning. He has all the control."
She stands up and grins, "Well, this is my chance to have a shot at him, for a change. Let me make you up and we can torture him back a little."
I back up, slightly shocked. "Whoa. Easy. I don’t want to be part of some game play. I just like him…like a friend…who I maybe want to kiss."
She rolls her eyes, "He kissed you. He likes you back. You're both just damaged and screwed-up and shit. So you all don’t know how to be a boy and girl."
I gasp.
She closes her mouth and blushes, "You know what I mean."
My hands are covering my mouth. I start to giggle. She looks sickened, "I'm sorry."
"No. It's true. We met at the screwed up kidnap victims' concentration camp. But in truth, I always saw him as my hero. When I was a kid, when I found out I had a benefactor, and even when he kidnapped me. I have had disturbing thoughts about him. I can't even kid myself about them. Even if I wanted to."
She laughs, "This is so weird. Girl, I have read romance novels like this my entire life. You gotta trust me on this shit. We gotta make you hot. Let me mess with him a little bit? Then you can have the control again."
I nod. I want him to see me whole. Maybe it will inspire him to be whole too.
She grabs a red slutty dress from the closet.
I arch an eyebrow, "Let's try to stay in the realm of possible and not totally obvious."
She looks at me. "You know you can't like, have a relationship with him right?" She sounds doubtful.
I laugh, nervously. "Yeah. Of course. We're like survivors of the same shit. I just like him." I lower my voice, "Not like how I like Sebastian." It's true. I like him so much more than Sebastian. Sebastian is the right man for the normal girl I want to be.
"What if he abducts you again?" She asks into my back when I turn and grab the brush off the desk. I stop and think. The idea is almost intriguing. Being abducted by him again would be interesting.
I shake my head, "What can he do he hasn’t already done? What can anyone do to me that hasn’t already be done?" I turn and face her, "I don’t have any walls left Shell. I'm like a single tree standing in a field for everyone to see. There is nowhere for me to hide."
She raises an eyebrow and passes me a pale-pink, cotton-off-the-shoulder dress, "Sometimes having a couple things you keep to yourself isn’t such a bad thing, Em."
I take the dress and smile. She is never going to stop calling me Em. I don’t mind it though. It's like she isn’t completely dead and gone. Like a small spark of her lives on in me. But not the bad stuff.
I pull on the dress.
"You have to take the bra off dude. Off the shoulder dresses look slutty with bras sticking out. She passes me a white thing.
"Bandeau."
I pull my bra off and the bandeau on. I slink into the dress and look at myself in the mirror. I run my hands through my blonde hair and wriggle my lips back and forth. I make duck lips and nod, "Yup." I slip on my Uggs and turn to face her. She lightly dabs makeup on. "Okay I am a believer. Dude, this is my makeup. My germs."
I shrug, "Okay."
"It isn’t bugging you that I've touched it to my face?"
I open one eyes and frown, "Trying to make me stress?"
She laughs, "Just testing." She spins me back to the mirror, "You look pretty."
I do.
I look innocent but still sexy. It's a good look for me. I shrug on my huge white down jacket and pocket my cell phone.
She slips on her coat and opens the door. I look back at the apartment and smirk. It's a swamp.
She grimaces, "I might miss you cleaning all the time."
I laugh and we walk down the stairs. I glance at my phone. We are crazy late. I smile. I need to get my defiant little digs in.
Stuart and the car are sitting in the snow across the street. The cold wind attacks my skirt and legs. I moan, "I hate Boston. I hate winter."
She links her arms into mine, which I barely feel with the down jackets. Stuart's got the door open when we get there. He looks desperately in Shell's direction. She ignores him completely and climbs in. His jaw tightens. He looks at me apologetically. I put a hand on his coat sleeve and shake my head, "We cool? Me and you? No more lies and weirdness?" He nods.
His eyes flash a concerned look, "You forgive me?" I nod as he closes the door.
I nudge her, "You okay?" She nods and looks pissed.
I know that if the hostage heels had been on the other foot I would never forgive him. Never. I can only hope for the sake of the car rides and the tension levels, she lets him beg for forgiveness. He is so damned sexy and she is such a sexual person I am betting they’ll be back together in a day or two.
"Give him a chance to explain at least." I whisper just as he gets in.
