Abigail

I sleep into the afternoon. There’s a message waiting on my phone when I wake up.

Late dinner? I’ll knock this time. Court a little traditionalism.

It’s the best way to wake up.

Scrap that. Waking up next to him will be the best way to wake up. This is just a good runner up.

It feels weird to text back.

I’d like that. Bring chocolate. I’ll cook.

I’ve already sent it by the time I realise I have no idea what he likes to eat. Crap.

Luckily, I have some resources close by these days to help me. Sarah is watching TV with her hand in a big bag of Doritos when I call round there. I fill her in on my crisis and she springs into action.

“Italian,” she says. “Everyone likes Italian.”

I hope she’s right.

I’m pleased to have a companion as I venture out to the local shop. We pick the best ingredients we can muster and she talks me through the best way to prepare them.

“My grandma was married to an Italian,” she says.

“You’re part Italian?”

She shakes her head. “No, that was her first marriage. She had four.”

I laugh. “Go Sarah’s grandma.”

“Sour old bitch.” She giggles. “But she could cook.”

I only hope Grandma’s special recipe works a treat for me this evening.

I’m choosing what to wear when a familiar but unfamiliar ping sounds on my mobile. My fingers are shaking when I call it up.

Fuck.

My heart pounds even at the sight of his name. It’s in email form, but it’s there.

Phoenix Burning sent you a personal message. Reactivate your account?

How could I not?

A couple of clicks and I’m back in.

I’m grinning as I fire a message back to him.

So much for deleting my account. I played fair.

He replies in a beat.

Still want to meet the monster?

It makes me laugh out loud.

Always, I type back. I hope he bites.

I wait for another ping. It doesn’t take long.

You will be ready for me later. You will make sure the bottom door is unlocked.

I reply in a flash.

Is this before or after dinner? I’ve got to time the vegetables.

I hope he knows I’m joking.

Eight. Be ready.

So much for humour, but that doesn’t matter.

I’ll be ready, I say.

And I will be.

 

* * *

 

Phoenix

 

I almost forget about the shit with Jake as I enjoy the afternoon. It’s another glorious day with Cam in the pool, and even Serena joins us for a swim.

It would be perfect, if only Abigail was with us.

All in good time, so they say.

I’m strangely excited to see what she cooks. Thrilled at the prospect of a regular date like regular people.

Even if I do deviate from the chivalry to pound her dirty little asshole later.

I wear a black shirt over tight jeans. Make sure my hair is as just so as it ever gets. I’m no pink-shirted Jack, but I’ll do.

I’m ready to go just as soon as Cam settles off to sleep, but this evening, typically, he wants every story in the book.

He’s even willing to ask for it.

There’s no way I’d ever be able to say no to that.

“You look great,” Serena says as I finally get back downstairs. “Go get your girl.”

“You’ll like her,” I tell her. “I can’t wait to introduce you.”

“Just as long as she makes you happy.”

I love my little sister today as much as I’ve ever loved her in my life. She’s a solid rock in our river. An anchor through whatever shitty storms life throws our way.

I’ll never be able to thank her enough for what she’s done for Cam and me. I just hope she knows it.

I feel a pang of regret for Jake as I step out to my truck.

It’s so easy to forget these days that once upon a time it was the three of us against the world. It’s easy to forget how he was the one who set us up in business in the first place and took care of me as well as Serena just as soon as he was old enough.

Easy to forget all the shit he shouldered when we were too young to deal with any of it.

I send him a text message before I pull away. One final olive branch before I get my ass down to the lawyer in the morning.

Sort your life out, Jake. We’re still your fucking family. Put the money back, stop drinking and we’ll talk properly when you’re sober.

He can keep the picture of Mariana.

It’s the least I can do, and deep down I know it.

Serena’s question is a valid one.

How the fuck did it come to all this?

The answer is the same as it’s always been. Just as I said it last night.

Mariana.

That’s how the fuck it came to all this.

Serena could never see it, the appeal that one crazy woman had for two brothers. She didn’t understand the magic in the madness, the way that woman’s soul could shred you to pieces and keep you coming back for more.

I push all that aside for now.

I stop at the petrol station for a big bar of chocolate and grab some flowers while I’m at it.

And then I text my girlfriend, since that’s really what she is now.

Soon.

 

* * *

 

Abigail

 

Soon

That’s what the message says.

I can’t keep up with him. Pinging me here there and everywhere.

I laugh out loud when the knock comes at the door. His soon was quite a lot sooner than I expected.

More like now, in fact.

I’m grinning as I swing that door open, presenting my best chef smile in the heart-patterned apron I borrowed from Sarah.

But it’s not him.

My grin fades.

I recognise the man in front of me, and yet I don’t.

He’s tall. Dark eyes. Gaunt and wiry.

Strong.

My eyes widen.

They widen a whole lot more when he shunts me inside and closes the door behind him.

I’m backing away on instinct, the lasagne still cooking in the oven as the panic takes my breath.

There’s nowhere to run and I know it.

I try anyway.

I only make it as far as the kitchen doorway before he grabs me from behind. His bulk is familiar, but he stinks of whisky and something else. Diesel.

He reminds me of the seedy denim guy from the pub all those weeks ago.

And just like denim guy, his hand is straight between my legs, pressing his fingers so fucking hard against my clit that it aches.

I squeal when he clasps his hand over my mouth, but just like his brother, he’s pretty damn good at muffling it.

I know this is Jake.

I know it with every single part of me.

“Good girl for leaving the door open. Are you always so fucking willing to do what he says? I guess it’s him you’re wet for, but don’t worry. If you’re a good girl I’ll let you enjoy it.”

I’m rigid in his grip, heart thumping in my ears.

“I don’t know why you all go so fucking mad for my brother,” he says. “He’s a self-important, sour-faced fucking prick. The way he treated my Mariana…”

His voice trails off.

My chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.

His fingers keep rubbing me, but for the first time in memory, the monster at my back doesn’t make my clit throb.

It makes me feel sick.

“I know how he likes to talk to you,” he says. “I read it all online, the whole sorry fucking lot of it. You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you? Just like my Mariana was.”

How I fucking cringe inside. The intrusion hurts far worse than his fingers on my body. It feels like he’s been inside the darkest parts of my soul.

And he doesn’t belong there.

That part’s all for Leo.

“Let me talk in a language you’ll understand,” he grunts. “You will come with me to my fucking truck. You will do what I fucking say. If you don’t, I’ll hurt you. If you still don’t, I’ll hurt that sonofabitch boyfriend of yours. Understand?”

I manage a nod.

“I’ve got a whole fucking truck full of kerosene. I’ll burn the fucker alive, and this time there won’t be any fucking fire department to drag him out of there.”

My breath is so shallow, so fast.

“Understand?”

I nod again.

He takes his hand away and I grab a breath.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “This is crazy.”

“We’re all a little fucking crazy, sweetheart. I think you’re the craziest bitch of us all. Running straight into the path of some fucking stranger. Begging him to make it fucking hurt. You need help, girl.”

I’m relieved when he drops me. My body feels filthy where he touched me.

Used.

Violated.

“Now get your fucking shoes on,” he grunts. “Or I’ll make you run fucking barefoot like he did.”

I do as he says, stalling as much as I dare.

He doesn’t let me get away with much.

I know Leo is heading here. I know he can’t be that far out.

But he’s far enough out that he misses us.

I’m petrified as I step out onto the landing and close the door behind me. I know Jake’s batshit crazy and wired enough to follow through with whatever insane ideas are fizzing through that addled head of his, so when Sarah sticks her head out of her front door, all smiles as she expects to find Leo ready for Grandma’s special recipe lasagne, I act like everything is totally normal.

“This is Jake,” I tell her. “Leo’s brother.”

I pray she’ll use her intuition, but if it’s there she doesn’t notice.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she says. “I can see the resemblance. Really are meeting the family now, then?”

I nod.

She keeps on smiling.

Jake nudges me along the landing. I move as slowly as I can.

“Hope you enjoy the food!” she calls after us, and she’s gone. Just like that.

My heart sinks, but I keep on walking, praying that my monster in the darkness will catch up with me as easily this time as he has every other time before.