3
After spending long enough in the shower that the water begins to cool, I force myself to leave and face the music. Although, staring at my naked body in the mirror is more confronting than I expect.
My long, dirty-blonde hair is slicked back, drawing attention to my pale face, the dark circles under each eye, and my thin nose and lips. Not even the hot shower has added color to my skin. Part of me still feels chilled.
There is a handprint bruise over my arm, and a large, ugly bruise over my ribs where I was punched. Seeing that doesn’t exactly ease my fears.
If I end up back with Brian, I know the chances of me escaping again are slim. He will expect me to run, but will he resort to murdering me? Since he was my boyfriend for almost eighteen months, there will indisputably be questions he will struggle to answer if he does. Although, he is close friends with the local cops, so who is going to ask those hard-hitting questions?
They are. Which means they will also cover for him if needed.
Will anyone care if I disappear? Many of my friends are Brian’s friends, so their loyalty will be to him. Truthfully, I only saw those people at the occasional barbeque or birthday bash. I doubt they will notice if I completely disappear. Otherwise, my other friends are all online. They will realize if I go quiet, but will they care enough to kick up a fuss? Will they just think I decided to go offline for a while? And my temp jobs don’t inspire long-term friendships.
How has my life come to this?
A knock at the door startles me out of my pity party. Then Van’s mumbled voice kick-starts me into rushing to get dressed.
It’s nice to wear something new and clean. However, the sweats are too big, so I roll them where needed so my feet are free. I also pull the drawstring as tight as I can make it, causing the pants to bunch up, but better that than fall down. They cover everything and are warm. I can’t ask for much more.
There is no underwear with them, which is not surprising.
I soak my old clothes in the shower, using the body soap to rinse them off, then hang them over the glass door. Hopefully, they will be dry by morning, assuming I am going to be able to stay the night.
What if Zander kicks me out? What if he hears my story and thinks I’m crazy? Or thinks this is too dangerous for him to get involved in and needs me gone immediately?
Another strong knock forces me to leave. And as soon as I’m out of the bathroom, Van cuts in to brush his teeth.
I force myself to make my way back out to the living room and find Zander straightening up the papers on the dining room table.
The setup is small but cozy. The front door opens into the living room, which is just to the side of the kitchen and dining room. The open living area makes the place seem bigger and would be ideal if you had several guests over—everyone able to interact easily.
Is that why Zander likes it? Does he have many people over?
I glance at the few photos he has around the place on walls and shelves, and while many are obviously his parents and Van, there are a few who must be Zander’s friends.
Forcing myself to look away from the photos before it is too obvious that I’m snooping, I glance back the way I came.
There are two bedrooms that are self-explanatory. Next to Van’s room is the bathroom, but opposite that and next to Zander’s room is a tiny office, which I peeked in before. It is the smallest room here, with just enough space for a desk, chair, and a few piles of boxes piled as high as the ceiling in the corner.
“You can sit. I’ll be right with you,” Zander says distractedly.
I get the strangest feeling like I’m about to be interviewed. He’s probably going into work mode now. I guess I’m a prospective client for him, except I can’t pay him unless this whole mess gets straightened out. If I try to access my money now, I’m positive it will be traced.
“Ava! Have you seen my bedroom? Come see!” Van calls out before quickly disappearing into his bedroom after doing the world’s quickest teeth brushing.
I quickly glance at Zander, who rolls his eyes but gives me a quick nod. Then I make my way to Van, who is dressed in Transformer pajamas.
He quickly shows me around his room, pointing out toys and figurines he loves and explaining where some of them are from, since I am clearly out of the loop. He takes his time, and though I’m sure he’s just delaying his bedtime, I’m happy to delay the conversation I’m supposed to have with his brother.
We only get another five minutes of distracted bliss before we are called up on it.
“Van, that’s enough,” Zander growls from the doorway, and Van’s shoulders slump at his words.
I see it as an improvement, though, since he said Van and not Vaughn.
“You’ll still be here in the morning?” he asks, and I look to Zander for an answer.
“She will be, buddy. Now get to bed.”
As Van energetically hops under the covers, I begin to leave, when he calls me back.
He waves at me to get closer, and I crouch down and lean in until I’m only inches from his face so I can hear his whispers. I assume Van doesn’t want Zander to hear his request.
“Can you please tuck me in?” he begs.
I glance over at Zander, who is looking at me expectantly.
It breaks my heart to realize what Van wants from me. He might talk the tough talk, but he’s still a little boy who has recently lost his parents.
I look down at him, moving his hair to the side and away from his forehead. “Goodnight, Van. Sweet dreams,” I tell him, flattening out the blanket and tucking it into the sides, trying to not make it obvious that I feel a little awkward doing this.
Van smiles, though, snuggling down the bed farther until the blankets are sitting at his chin.
When I am done, I walk past Zander, who turns out Van’s light and leaves the door ajar.
“Thank you for doing that,” he tells me, his voice a little gravely.
“No problem. Van is a good kid.” I brush it off, but truthfully, I feel an ache somewhere inside me after doing that. Whether it’s because I didn’t have someone to tuck me in after Mom got sick and Dad took off and I feel for Van since he’s lost that now, too, or if it’s because I someday want kids to be able to do that for, I don’t know.
“He is. I don’t think I’ve seen him so lively since …” Zander trails off, seeming lost in his own thoughts.
“I hope I haven’t overstepped by talking to him. I mean, I obviously overstepped by stealing your car …” I wince at just recalling how badly this night has gone.
“Forget it. Let’s just get this conversation started.” He pulls out a chair for me, and once I am seated, he takes the seat across from me. Then he turns on the voice recorder app on his phone, places it on the table between us, and presses record.
Nerves eat away at my stomach. I sit on my hands to stop fiddling and tapping the table. I like to move when I’m nervous.
“So, start at the beginning and leave nothing out. The more details, the better.”
Taking deep breaths, I decide quickly that I really have no other choice but to trust Zander with this and hope for the best. What else can I do?
“Brian lives next to an older man named Conner Forbes. With Brian being so busy all the time, I sometimes spend time in front of his house, waiting for him to get home. He was constantly running late. Anyway, I didn’t have a key to his place, so I would just sit outside, usually on his front step if the weather wasn’t too awful.
“I ended up striking a bit of a friendship with Mr. Forbes. Then he asked me if I wouldn’t mind feeding his cat and fish while he was away for a long weekend. I said yes and everything went fine. Then it started to become more regular. Sometimes, Brian would be gone for weeks on top secret missions, but I would still go next door to feed Mr. Forbes’ animals. I never really mentioned it to Brian because it wasn’t a big deal. But three days ago, I went around there to feed them for the final time before Mr. Forbes returned and realized the cat had gotten out. It’s an inside cat, usually.” I look up to see Zander waving his hand to keep me talking.
“Anyway, I searched outside and could hear him meowing, so I knew he was close. Then I realized he was in Brian’s backyard. Except, when I went around to his side, I saw one of his side windows was open enough for Whiskers to have gotten in. I knew I couldn’t just leave him in there—Brian is allergic to cats—so I used the open window to get in myself.
“I entered his office and noticed his laptop was on. I thought that was weird because he was away. I figured he must have just accidentally left it on. I moved the mouse and discovered a video was paused. The image was blurry, but I pressed play. I don’t know why, and I wish to God I hadn’t.” I stop speaking because this is the part that, once said out loud, can never be unsaid. Once Zander knows this part, he’s going to quickly decide what to do with me and the information.
“What was on the video?” Zander prompts.
I glance around nervously, fearing Van might have gotten up to listen to us. But he is nowhere in sight, and we are speaking quietly enough that Van won’t be able to make out our words.
My mouth dries. It becomes hard to swallow.
“There was a woman. She looked young, maybe twenty. She was naked and being tortured by men in masks. I only saw a few moments of it before I quickly closed it. I thought … I thought it must be some case Brian is working on. I felt sick. And then I realized there was an entire library of them. They were titled under dates, just sitting in a playlist, hundreds of them. I told myself they had to be part of a case Brian was working on. He always told me he couldn’t discuss his cases. I hoped this was just all part of an investigation.
“I tried to tell myself he had them at his home because he was searching for clues or something. Then I noticed the play counts on the side. He had watched these videos hundreds of times. All of them. Why would he have to watch them that many times?”
I take a shaky breath, looking down at my lap before I continue. I can’t look at Zander while I describe realizing I had been with a monster.
“I wasn’t sure what to think. I panicked. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was certain I was just overthinking this. Maybe the laptop isn’t even his. Maybe it’s part of his investigation, too. Maybe it’s evidence he just brought home. I tried to believe this, even though that didn’t make sense, either.” Anything seemed more reasonable than believing my boyfriend of eighteen months was some sicko who was into watching women being tortured!
I recall that moment, remembering when I felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. I stumbled around his office as I started to wonder if I even knew him at all.
I try to hold back my tears, hoping to get through this without breaking down.
“He’s always been a little distant with me. We’ve always been distant from each other. I mean, at least half of our relationship, he’s been away for work. The other half, we would only see each other occasionally. I don’t even have a spare key to his house. That’s probably weird, right?” I look up at Zander, but he doesn’t give me any response, just narrows his eyes as he takes in what I’m saying.
“After eighteen months, I don’t have a drawer or any things at his place. I’ve met his family and many of his friends, but we’ve never talked about moving in together. Never mentioned marriage or a damn thing about kids. I know basic things about him, but obviously, I had no fucking clue about what type of man he is. So, I decided to search his home.”
I had seen him turn off his alarm enough to know the code. Whiskers hadn’t tripped it, and there was no motion sensor in the office.
“I rifled through his entire house, not finding anything, until I discovered a false bottom on his desk drawer.” I recall how hard I was shaking as I held the photos in my hands. They were facedown, but I knew it wasn’t going to be something good. “I found photos he had printed off. They were awful. A woman being hurt. In one, it was clear she was dead.
“Why did he have these photos? Why did he enjoy seeing this? If it was for an investigation, why would he have hidden photos in a secret part of his desk? Why did they look crinkled like he’d touched them a lot?” I look to Zander, tears in my eyes. Apart from a clenched jaw and permanent frown, he doesn’t say a word. What is he thinking? Did he expect this to go where it has?
He clearly has no answers for me, and I doubt anyone ever will. None that would explain why Brian liked to look at photos like that. Nothing that could make me understand.
“I found an unopened packet of USBs in a drawer. I opened them and decided to copy every video onto one of them. There was so much that I only got half. I used another one to get the rest. I don’t even know what else is on there. I didn’t want to see more. I just straightened things up as best as I could and got out of there with Whiskers.
“As soon as he was safely back at home, I decided to go to the police. If this was all some sort of weird misunderstanding, then fine, I would look like a fool and possibly ruin my relationship with Brian. But if he was as sick as I suspected, as much a monster as my gut was telling me, then I knew I couldn’t ignore this.
“I went to the nearest police station and handed over one of the USBs and told my story. The officer listened, wrote things down, and took the USB. I waited, and then waited some more. Finally, I was told I could leave and they would be in touch.
“When I left, hours had passed. I was tired, sore from sitting on a hard chair for so long, and exhausted. I wasn’t expecting Brian to be outside the station.
“He grabbed me, forced me into his car, and told me that the police officer had called him and told him what I was saying. He was furious with me and wanted to know where the other files I copied were. I had only given the police officer one of the USBs, but I mentioned having another one. I wouldn’t tell him, though. He told me he didn’t want to hurt me, but he would.” Subconsciously, I rub my arm where he grabbed me. “He punched me in the stomach. He grabbed my hair and knocked me into his glovebox.” My voice and body shake as I recount this. I felt so helpless, so terrified.
“He wasn’t even concerned that we were in the police parking lot. He was fearless as he hurt me. I knew then and there none of those cops were going to help me. Even if there was no one around, or the cameras didn’t face where he was parked, Brian was confident enough that, if someone stumbled on us, he would get out of it.”
“That asshole!” Zander’s outburst shocks me out of my bubble, but it’s a welcomed distraction.
I take a few calming breaths before I dive back in.
“He said he was going to take me back to his house where he could make me talk. I assumed he was going to … do what I saw in the videos … to me.” A chill creeps down my spine. “I knew I couldn’t let that happen. So, at a busy intersection, I managed to escape out of his car. I think he didn’t chase after me because it would have gained attention, and he probably didn’t want that in a crowded area. He also knew I couldn’t run forever. I have no experience surviving on the streets.
“I had to leave my handbag in his car. I have nothing now, just a little cash in my pocket, which I’m down to a few coins now. I have nowhere safe to go.
“I went to a homeless shelter on the first night, hoping to find a place to rest, but I saw a man I recognized out front. He was at a barbeque Brian took me to once.”
Just saying this all out loud is making me feel ten times more exhausted than what I felt when I first sat down. My entire body sags. I’m not sure I have much left in me. I’m tired, disheartened with the world, and am pretty close to just losing it.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said this was messed up. Where is the second USB?” Zander asks, pulling out a notepad as he makes some notes.
“I hid it,” is all I say.
“Is it somewhere you can get to?” he pushes.
“Yes.”
He nods, not asking me where it is, which I appreciate.
He must realize my only leverage is that USB. I will eventually have to hand it over to the right person, but since the last person I handed one over to was the wrong person, I can’t afford to screw this one up.
“I have a guy I trust on the force. He was my best friend’s father,” Zander finally says once the silence becomes too much for me.
“Was?”
“My friend died a few years ago,” he explains quietly, another flare of grief lighting his eyes before he hides it away.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmur, wondering how many losses this guy has been through recently. How is he still functioning?
“I’ll talk to him in the morning and get his take on it. I am going to need to see what is on that USB so I can get a good idea of what we’ve got here. For now, until we have a handle on this, you will need to keep a low profile. Your ex is likely to know your friends and family and where they are, but is there a safe place you have that he doesn’t know about? Maybe one you couldn’t get to before, but can with the use of a car?”
I shake my head. Really, all I had in my life was my home and online friends. After both my parents’ sides abandoned Amanda and me after Mom got cancer, we stopped seeing them. They are basically dead to me, and I haven’t heard a peep out of my dad. For all I know, he is dead.
“Okay, then for now, you stick with me,” Zander announces.
“Really?” My heart leaps into my throat as hope begins to choke me.
“Of course. I’m offering you my help.” His shoulders are stiff, his jaw locked, telling me he is dead serious.
I get the feeling, once Zander commits to something, he goes through with it no matter what.
This doesn’t feel so much like a promise as it is a vow.
“Why?” I can’t help asking. “Why help me? I stole your car, kidnapped your brother,” I unhelpfully remind him. Why am I trying to talk him out of this?
“For many reasons. One is that I’m a decent person. You need help, and I have the ability to do that.”
I nod as I wait for him to continue, but he appears to be finished.
“You said many reasons? What else is there?”
He still doesn’t answer me, taking his time staring me over. I’m not sure how to read this. Still, I try to wait him out, hoping he has an answer for me if I’m patient enough.
I take this opportunity to sweep my gaze over him. I ogle his wide shoulders, his strong arms, and chiseled face. I can’t help noticing again how striking Zander is. With tanned skin, deep blue eyes, wavy chocolate brown hair, and some stubble covering his jaw, he’s a good-looking man.
I’m not stupid enough to think I’m in the same league as him. I have seen enough movies and read a few books where situations like this evolve into something more. A protective hero and a helpless heroine isn’t exactly the plot I want my life to be in. I would take it, though, if it meant a night it Zander’s arms. I get the feeling there might be no safer place than by his side.
And what does that make me? Only three days running from Brian and I’m thinking about Zander in a romantic way? What is wrong with me?
As usual, my thoughts have completely gotten away from me and led so far down the wrong road that I can’t help blushing at how ridiculous I am being.
“Another reason I have for helping you is more selfish,” Zander finally speaks up, looking down at his hands now, fidgeting with the pen he’s holding and looking a little awkward. “Vaughn has taken to you, and that is incredibly rare. Since our parents passed away, all he’s done is pull away. He barely wants to see his friends, doesn’t engage at school, and I’ve tried to get him to talk to a professional. He sits in those sessions and refuses to say a single word. He fights with me constantly, and I was beginning to wonder if he was too much trouble for me to handle.
“I’ve been trying my best, yet nothing has been working. But tonight, he’s spoken more than I’ve heard in months. Tonight, he smiled, he laughed.” Zander looks up at me now, giving me a smile that makes my breath catch. “Tonight, he opened up to you more than anyone else, and I’m worried that, once you’re gone, he might retreat into himself again.” His smile disappears as quickly as it came.
I’m touched and terrified by his words. My heart goes out to him and his plight.
While he is older than Amanda was, and Van younger than me, this is similar to the situation she was placed in when Mom was sick, and later when she died. I was angry and took my grief and rage out on her. That is likely what Van is doing to Zander. And who does Zander have?
I never cared how my sister was dealing with what she had on her plate. She was going through everything I was, except her whole future changed when she had to suddenly take care of me. In that way, she had more to deal with than I did. Who was there for her?
“When it was just me and my sister, I was awful to her. I pushed her away every chance I got. I was angry at her for many reasons, but at the same time, for no reason at all. I fought with her every chance I got, and part of me liked doing it. It got an anger out of me that wouldn’t leave.
“I was angry at my dad for leaving, and angry at my mother for getting sick and then eventually leaving us, too. I was even angry at Amanda for being so damn capable throughout it all. I just wanted to see her crack once. I wanted to know she wasn’t as put-together as she pretended to be. Then I wouldn’t have to feel so inadequate for feeling destroyed and broken inside.
“I started fights with her because I wanted her to leave me like I expected. I was sure I was too hard to take care off. I was too much for her to handle, and she was going to leave like everyone else. So, I kept my heart guarded, kept pushing, yet she never even flinched. She stayed strong.”
I think about how she did leave me when she was killed. Part of me—an incredibly small part—felt relieved that she had finally left me. It had happened just like I expected.
It took me a long time to realize that, if she hadn’t been taken away from me like that, she wouldn’t have ever left. She never planned to leave. She was going to do what she needed to do so I could have the future she wished for me.
And another revelation came when I stopped blaming my mother for leaving, too. She might have smoked her entire life, but that doesn’t mean she deserved what the cancer did to her. She never wanted to be sick, never wanted to leave us. The only people who chose to leave were my father and every other family member who disappeared on us when we needed them the most.
“What you’re saying is, Vaughn is testing me?” Zander asks as he tries to decipher my sob story.
“What I’m saying is, Van is dealing with something no kid should ever have to. His friends don’t understand what he is going through, but you do. And since this place is spotless; your car is spotless, other than the mess Van brought to it; your bookshelf has every book in alphabetical order without a single one out of place; and your bathroom cupboard is as anal as possible—I’m thinking appearances are important to you. Routine and order is something you stick to, and maybe you’re hoping that will help Van. But, right now, his routine has been destroyed; his feelings are probably in shambles, as are his thoughts, and I get the feeling he’s lonely.
“I don’t know why he connected to me. I don’t even know if I’ll just be some weird adult he doesn’t want to talk to tomorrow. But maybe his perfect brother, who appears to be dealing completely fine with everything, needs to show some more emotion, other than anger.
“You fighting with him isn’t helping, except maybe you both get a little anger out. In the long run, it just adds more toxicity to your relationship. He is stuck at the anger stage of grief. To get him out of it, you need to show him how. Stop baiting him into fights, like when you call him Vaughn. He hates that. I don’t know why, but maybe it’s just some phase he will grow out of. Regardless, he keeps telling you he wants to be called Van. If he wanted to be called Penis, then sure, fight him. But Van is a reasonable nickname for Vaughn. Just let it go.”
I wait for him to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. That I’m unqualified and should butt out. But he doesn’t, which makes me feel a little warm. He seems to have actually listened.
“I know I should let it go, but our parents called him Vaughn. They loved that name. I don’t want him to lose that.”
“It’s on his birth certificate, it will be on any I.D. he has—he won’t lose the name,” I point out.
Zander slowly nods. I know he’s processing my words. It feels good to have someone listening to me like that. I don’t think Brian ever even asked me how my day was, let alone for any advice.
“Should I assume you’re some sort of grief counselor and/or life couch or something?” Zander asks without bite. I don’t think he’s trying to point out that I’m clueless.
“No, I have zero qualifications for any of the stuff I just said. In fact, a professional might even tell you I just gave you the worst advice ever. But it feels right to me. And apparently, I like to stick my nose in other people’s business, a new facet I have learned about myself tonight. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not, but you’re not kicking me out, so I’ll just go with it.” I give him a small smile, which is thankfully returned.
“So, I should leave a mess around the place, break up his routine, and what, not fight with him?” I hear cynicism in his voice, as well as maybe some pleading.
“I’m saying it won’t be the end of the world to show Van you’re dealing with the same thing he is. Sometimes, life is messy and shit’s not fair. Show him that life sometimes makes you just as sad as it does him. Talk to him, and don’t rise to the bait when he tries to fight with you. If he can’t fight with you, then maybe he will move on to the next stage of grief.”
Zander looks to the side of me as he takes in my words. However, instead of agreeing or even just giving me a nod, he shakes his head. His eyes go hard, and I watch a mask slip back over his face.
“You know what? We were supposed to be talking about your situation, not mine and Vaughn’s.” Just like that, he shuts me out.
I can’t say I blame him. I have known him for only a few hours, and am giving him life advice. I mean, what the hell? Who am I? Have I always been this nosy? Have I always had such strong opinions on people’s lives? Maybe I should be a life coach. Although, I’m not certain my life right now is the best example to set for any potential clients.
“Right, of course.” I take a deep breath and refocus. “You will talk to your friend, and then what? Will he take on the case? Or recommend someone who can look into it?”
“For now, I’ll get his advice. Then we’ll need to get your USB.”
I nod like that is completely doable. However, since I hid the USB in Brian’s neighbor’s house, this might be an issue. I’m certain getting that close to Brian will be tempting fate.
“You can take my bed tonight,” Zander suddenly says, breaking me away from the panic rising at the thought of being close to Brian.
“No, I can’t take your bed.” I shake my head, standing quickly when Zander does. “I’ll take your couch if you’re absolutely sure you want me here. I have already intruded in your life more than is polite. I don’t want to cause you any problems, and I don’t want to put you or Van in any unnecessary danger.”
“You have zero connection to me or Vaughn; you’ll be safe here and won’t cause us any danger. And I can’t let you take the couch. It’s lumpy, and protection-wise, having you on your own right by the front door is the least safe place for you here,” Zander argues, crossing his arms over his chest in a sign of determination.
“You just told me I was completely safe here, so that excuse doesn’t fly with me. Also, your couch being lumpy is just another reason you shouldn’t have to sleep on it. I already stole your car, kidnapped your brother, and ate your food tonight. Please let me sleep on your couch.”
He stares at me for a moment before he finally nods. I don’t think he’s exactly thrilled with this, but I know I will likely be either unable to get a wink of sleep because my mind won’t shut down, or I will sleep like the dead due to almost no sleep for the past few days. I don’t need a comfortable bed for either of those scenarios.
Zander gets me situated with a blanket and pillow, and then there is an awkward moment when we are both standing by the couch, staring at each other and waiting for God knows what.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for being a decent human being. Thank you for hearing me out instead of throwing me under the bus. Thank you for taking a chance and for keeping me safe,” I tell him, realizing it is long overdue. I should have been thanking him nonstop this entire time.
Could I be so forgiving if some stranger kidnapped someone I loved and stole my car? I doubt it.
“You’re welcome. Although, if you steal my car again, I might not go so easy on you.” He gives me a small smile, and I read between the lines to know he is probably a little uncomfortable with my gratitude, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke.
Two can play that game.
“Somehow, with a name like Agnes, I find myself not all that scared.”
He snorts, glaring at me for a moment, before turning around and striding toward his bedroom. Just as he places his hand on the door, he turns back to face me.
“Don’t make me sic Vaughn on you. I can tell your ego will be broken once a twelve-year-old has beaten you up,” he jokes. Well, at least I hope he’s joking!
“I could take him.”
Zander’s laugh is the last thing I hear before he closes the door.
“I could!” I yell out before I remember Van is trying to sleep just a room away. Oops.
I sit down on the couch and click off the lamp on the side table, flooding me in darkness. Then I lie down, finding every lump digging into my back, and making me wonder why anyone would keep such an awful couch. He must be a glutton for pain and being uncomfortable.
I close my eyes and think over how crazy my life has gotten, wondering if tomorrow is going to add to that or make it better. I hope it’s for the better. I’m due for a break.
It turns out, I’m not.
At least I sleep like the dead and win against this awful couch.