CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LAURA

I LOVE MATH. Trying to figure out the equation keeps me busy for hours. It didn’t make me good at it, but I love it. The puzzle of x and y, trying to see it from different angles, it gave me a thrill.

“Laura, look at my hair.” I turned to Violet, who stood in my bedroom, her white dress scuffed from grass stains. Her face stained with mascara from the tears that still fell. Her hair, a mass of long brown curls, hung around her shoulders. White splotches in her hair had me standing up and walking towards my sister. She held a strand out to me. “Look what he did,” her sobs poured into her hands now.

I took her in my arms. She held on tight. “Who did this?” I asked. But I knew. When she didn’t answer, I spoke, “Dad?” She nodded while crying. My fingers went to the clump of chewing gum buried in her curls. I took her hand and she let me lead her to my desk where she sat.

My fingers pulled strands of sticky, clumpy mess. It didn’t take long to see how useless this was. She had seven different areas that he had put chewing gum in, all on the right side of her head. The stains on her dress and the red marks on her arms told me she had fought him. She would; Violet was so strong, yet like now, at these horrible moments, I could see he was breaking her over and over again. I feared that one day I might not be able to fix my sister. I swallowed my own emotions.

“What did you do?” I asked as I searched for my comb, needing something to distract me briefly. She had stopped crying now as anger took over.

“I spat chewing gum out on the tarmac the other night.” 

I wasn’t surprised at his brutal punishment. It was how things happened in our home. I returned with the comb. This wasn’t going to work, she knew it, and I knew it. But I had to try and save her hair. It was her trademark. It’s what made Violet, Violet.

“Violet,” I said softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror that hung on the wall. She nodded as a tear fell. The first lock floated to the ground; it was the beginning of the end. I just didn’t know it then.

I had to cut close to her head. I didn’t mention the chunk that he had pressed firmly into her skull. I cried silently as the last curl fell.

“You’re still beautiful, Vi.” I told my sister. She sobbed into her hands. A shaky hand ran across her tight hair and she cried louder as she felt the chunk that was stuck to her skull. Her eyes met mine, hers bloodshot, but a fire still burned there and that’s what counted. No matter how painful this was, she couldn’t give up. It was selfish of me, but I couldn’t’ do this without her. She was the one who made me laugh when I wanted to cry. She said things that I only thought about, that I never voiced. Fear kept all my words buried deep inside me. I needed my sister more then she would ever need me.

I wake from the memory.  Sweat sits in a pool on my chest. My heart aches.  I sit up taking in my surroundings, remembering that she’s gone. It wasn’t long after that, that she killed herself.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six,” I count out loud to help calm me. But my hands shake, my heart is beating erratically. I don’t want to have another panic attack. The empty notepad still sits under my pillow. I take it out and start to write whatever is at the front of my mind.

I refuse to be a prisoner of this world.

I’m so cold, my warmth is gone.

So afraid, the ghosts are back.

So tired, sleep comes hard.

Where are you, Violet, when I need you the most?

Why did you leave me alone?

Will you come back to me? Stronger than before?

Or will it be just this.

This moment expanding into infinite time.

Nothing more than a bottomless pit.

Come home to me.

Not just a part of you, Violet, but all of you.

 

I push the notepad away not feeling any better. Her anger that day is my anger now. I am angry for her, I am angry with her. I am angry with myself. Closing my eyes doesn’t help. Her blue face flashes behind my eyelids.

I don’t want to be alone. Dizziness has me gasping for air. I hit the doorframe. The pain from the impact has me taking in a large lungfuls of air. I don’t stop.

The hospital is quiet as I keep walking, taking deep breaths, my vision blurs with tears, but I know this place. I also know that the room I shared with Michelle was eighty-four steps away from Craig’s.

Once I make my way to my old room, I continue until I stop outside his room.

What was I doing?

My breathing becomes hard again and I dig my nails into my palms; the instant I do, I calm, focusing on the pain.

Craig’s door is partially open, I don’t go in. I stand there for a while, taking calming breaths while digging my nails into my hands. The dripping noise interrupts me. Blood splotches make me stop digging my nails into my palms. I turned them over as the blood seeps out of the cuts. I didn’t think I was digging that deep.

“Laura?” My heart skips a beat for several reasons. Craig stands in his doorway in nothing but boxers; his tanned and naked body leaves me standing there, incapable of speech. He rubs his eyes, waking up a little more. “You’re bleeding?” The alarm in his voice snaps me out of my frozen state. His hands are there touching mine, making my mind go blank again.

“What happened?” he asks as he turns my hands over. My nail marks are visible. I yank my hands away and walk rapidly back to my room. I get into my room and pace it, taking fifty-two steps when my room door opens. Craig has put on a t-shirt and jeans. “You did that to yourself?” Shame has me looking away.

“I’m sorry I was at your room.”  This is the only thing I can think of, he’s here now, in my personal space.

“Why did you hurt yourself?” he asks once more ignoring my statement. He doesn’t judge, and I look at him and wonder. Has he hurt himself in the past? Is that what happened to his leg? He seems so transparent at first, but the more I get to know him the more I come to realize Craig is layered.

“I was having a panic attack and digging my nails into my palm calmed me,” I sit heavily on my bed, Craig leans against my wardrobe across from me. He nods like my explanation is completely reasonable.

“You want to talk about it?” He asks, sitting down beside me. His hands fidget. I can tell he wants a cigarette.

I lean onto my arm trying to push back the burn that rises in my throat. “No. I just don’t want to be alone,” I look at Craig from under my eyelashes, not wanting to show just how vulnerable I am right now.

“Move over then.” he doesn’t even flinch as he stands. I haven’t moved.

“What?” my mind races.

“I’m not lying on the floor, Laura. Now move over.” I obey shuffling back against the wall as Craig climbs into my bed.

The single bed is tight and feels even smaller as Craig throws the single duvet over us. I turn sideways the same time as he does. This is awkward. His grin actually makes me relax. It’s familiar and has become something that pulls me out of my darkness.

“I won’t leave, Laura.” His words are softly spoken. I nod, too clogged up with emotion to speak. “But in the morning, they may drag me out of your bed accusing me of forcing my way in. I just hope Ava isn’t the one to find us.”

I laugh and cry at the same time, picturing Ava hysterical. My tears fall, and he remains still but he never looks away from me. “Thank you,” I whisper, swallowing. His thumb burns my skin as he brushes my tears away.

“You are welcome,” Light filtered in from the doorway casting shadows across Craig’s face. He looks beautifully haunted. Like a fallen angel. Or a rising demon. I fall asleep with that thought in my mind and Craig’s breath on my face.

***

For the first time in a long time I dream of nothing. Smiling, I open my eyes slowly. Moss green ones stare back at me. Ones that have been awake from a while, no sleepiness is visible suggesting that Craig didn’t just wake up.

“You know you’re the first girl I have slept with and didn’t sleep with.”

The tips of my ears felt hot at his statement.

“Congratulations I’ll get Rose to do you up a certificate for sleeping with a girl and not sleeping with her.” I’m babbling. I’m nervous. He makes me nervous.

“Honestly. I think Rose would be pretty impressed with me. Hell, I’m impressed with me.”

I’m struggling to keep eye contact. He’s so close that it’s all overwhelming me. He has to hear my heartbeat; my pulse spikes in my neck when he moves. I glare at him with wide eyes. “Is that?” I can’t finish the sentence.

“It’s the morning and you know…”

I lick my very dry lips and he grins. “Okay you need to go.” I tell him, because he does and for so many reasons, not just the one where we might get caught by a number of people. Or the fact that his erection is there in all its glory. No it’s the fact that if he tried something on me, I don’t think I could resist.

He slides out of the bed, still grinning. “We might do this again?” It’s said like a question and I can’t help the stupid smile that crosses my face.

“Thank you, Craig.” I tell him.