Chapter Three
Lily
The nightmare was back. It was all happening again. This time, it was even clearer. I was standing in Jackson’s house, holding the gun again. Jenna had her arms up in the air, her face contorted with fear.
‘Please!’ she begged. ‘K, don’t do this!’
She’d always called my mum ‘K’ as a nickname. K for Karen. I guess in this version of the nightmare, I wasn’t myself. I was my mother.
The dream suddenly changed again. I was crouched at a window and my ears were pricked up, so to speak. This time I didn’t hear a woman screaming. There was a man talking. He was saying…crap, I couldn’t quite make it out. But it was definitely a man. His voice was calm, soothing.
I could hear him now. He was telling me that I’d be okay. That everything would be okay. I felt so sleepy, so warm. So relaxed. He was right. Everything would be okay. But then I opened my eyes, and I saw the blood. It was everywhere. Sprayed all over the walls, the ceiling. It was all over me now, and Jenna’s brains were all over the floor. I was back at Jackson’s house, pistol in my hand. I screamed and screamed and screamed, until someone shook my shoulders.
‘Why did you do this, Lily?’ the man’s voice was saying now. ‘Why?’
Then everything went black.
“Lily.” Alexandra nudged me, and I awoke with a start. I was in the Business-202 lecture hall, and the professor was droning on at the front. “You fell asleep.”
I rubbed my eyes and mumbled. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Nightmares.”
She gave me a sympathetic nod. “About…you know what?” she asked.
I nodded too. “Yeah.”
I frowned as I recalled the details of my most recent dream. Who was the man in it? Why was he telling me that I did it and asking why? Of course I didn’t. Everyone knew my mom killed Jenna. I hadn’t even been there when it happened. At the time of the murder, I was at home in bed. I stayed home from school that day because I had a splitting headache, and so once my homework was dutifully done, I took some painkillers, went back to bed and went to sleep even though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning.
A bit later, I’d woken up to the sound of two women screaming very faintly in the distance, and I remembered thinking one of them sounded like my mother. At the time, I’d been in that half-asleep zombie state where you don’t really know what’s going on, and I’d thought I was simply hearing the TV going in another room. I remembered hearing the words ‘No! Stop!’ and then ‘Please, K, don’t do this!’ and then some faint popping sounds, but I rolled over and closed my eyes, blissfully unaware that it wasn’t simply a movie playing in the living room.
It was only later when I found out what happened that I realized what I heard was no movie, and my heart had never thudded so painfully. I’d never felt so cold and broken. When the police questioned me, I was forced to tell them what I heard, even though it destroyed me because I knew what it meant. It meant my mom was guilty. Hell, I’d even heard Jenna calling her by her nickname as she begged for her life.
So why was I suddenly feeling so guilty? Why was I having all these dreams where I was the one holding the gun and pulling the trigger? Why was I seeing myself in that back room of Jackson’s house, staring at the blood everywhere? Was I somehow there that day?
“Are you okay?” Alexandra asked, still peering at me. Her blue eyes were wide with worry. “You look pale. Must’ve been a really bad one.”
I nodded, hands trembling. “It’s just….I thought one day the nightmares would go away. But they’re worse now. The last two days have been honest-to-god awful.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. How long since you saw your therapist?”
“A month or so. She’s expensive, but I guess I should see her again. Find out why the dreams are getting so weird.”
“Good idea. Can’t hurt,” she whispered as the professor turned his gaze to us with a warning glance in his eyes.
“As you all know, your main task this semester is to secure an internship for this class. I trust you’re all on top of that, because it’s already March, and you’ll be starting next week,” he said from the lectern.
I flipped through my college diary with horror. I thought we had at least two more weeks to find some sort of business-related internship at an office. The damn course had only just begun a couple of weeks ago.
“Sorry, sir, did you say next week? Or next month?” I called out.
He gave me an impassive look. “Next week. Remember, everyone, the internship counts for forty percent of your grade. If you fail to secure one or attend it, you’ll likely fail the class, unless you get perfect exam and paper grades. So again, I do hope you’re all on top of this.”
I turned to Alexandra. “I could’ve sworn we had more time!”
She nodded. “Same. Lucky I sorted mine out as soon as he told us about it at the start of semester. Where are you doing yours?”
My cheeks flushed. “I…I forgot all about it. I haven’t arranged it yet.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You better hurry. I’d say that you could just do it at the same place as me, but they already told me they were only taking one intern this semester.”
“Shit.” I cursed myself for letting things get like this. Only a few weeks into the semester and I was already falling behind.
“It’s okay,” Alexandra said. “You’ll find an internship. There’s still the weekend to try and find something by Monday.”
I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”
One thing my therapist had taught me in the past to help me cope with my anxiety was proper breathing technique and something called CBT—cognitive behavioral therapy. Basically, CBT was just a way of fixing my thought patterns to stop them from being negative. As long as I had the right mindset, I could solve any problem I put my mind to and help myself out of negative situations. The power of positive thinking and all that jazz.
I kinda had to help myself, anyway, because who else was going to help? I hadn’t had a mother for six years, and Dad wasn’t exactly around often enough to help me out.
When classes were finally done for the day, I headed home. As I drove, I tried to figure out a way to ask Dad for more money even though I knew things were tight right now. He’d stopped paying for my therapist a while ago, because she was quite pricey and I seemed to be coping better. But now…now the dreams were creeping back in, and they were evolving. Badly. I needed to see her again.
I’d actually looked for a part-time job a few times in the past, but work was hard to come by in this city, and in this economy too. Even a simple receptionist position required multiple years of experience and a degree, it seemed. So it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to pay for things myself. I simply wasn’t in a position to do so at the moment; not until something finally came up.
When I arrived home, Dad still wasn’t there. Surprise, surprise. I sighed and busied myself with cooking dinner, and I heard the front door open just after six o’clock.
“I’m making casserole, Dad,” I called out as I heard his footsteps trudging closer to the kitchen. He appeared in the doorway a moment later.
“Smells good, honey,” he said, giving me a tired smile. I smiled proudly back at him, happy for the compliment but rather shocked. Seeing as he was hardly ever around, I’d been cooking for myself since Mom disappeared, and I was quite good at it by now. Dad had never commented on it before now, though. Getting a nice word out of him was like extracting teeth. But again, I understood why. The years had changed him, and it was no wonder.
“You’re home earlier than usual,” I remarked. Usually he’d stay at his office till eight or later.
He shrugged. “Nothing more to be done for the day. Hard to find things to do when so many clients are dropping us.”
My heart sank. Dad’s construction company hadn’t done very well in years now, and it seemed to be getting worse. Truth be told, he’d never been amazingly successful, but we’d at least been comfortable enough when I was a kid. Nowadays we barely scraped by after all his employees had been paid.
“It’s that damn Pearson place,” he continued, sinking into his chair at the head of the kitchen table. “They’re too competitive to beat. Smaller places like us…we can’t offer the same home and land package deals. Not to mention the fact that less people are deciding to build at the moment, with the economy the way it is.”
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. But at least you might be home more from now on, if there’s less work for you?”
I regretted the words instantly. I hadn’t meant them in that way, but it had come out sounding as if I were guilt-tripping him about never being here, along with reminding him how badly his business was going. A double blow.
“Sorry,” I murmured, quickly turning my head back to the counter.
He sighed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Anyway, how was your day?”
My mood brightened again. When was the last time he asked me that? God, it must’ve been months. Maybe even years.
“It was okay. But…Dad, I think I might need to go back to Dr. Steinberg.”
He frowned. “Lily, she costs an arm and a leg. I could probably afford one more session for you, but no more.”
“One would be better than nothing,” I said quickly before he could think about it further and change his mind. I needed this.
“Why do you need to see her?” he asked.
“I’ve been having nightmares.”
“You’ve always had bad dreams. It’s just how you are.”
“This is different. It’s like I’m remembering…”
He raised his eyebrows in a curious expression. “Remembering what, Lily?”
I sat down at the table with him, trying to find the best way to voice my concerns without sounding like a complete idiot. “I don’t know if the memories are real, obviously. I know people’s minds can invent things and play all sorts of tricks. But…I keep having this dream where it’s me at Jackson’s house six years ago. Me with a gun,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what it means.”
Dad leaned forward, a concerned yet thoughtful expression on his face as he twisted the silver ring that he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. My mother bought it for him years ago, and he’d never taken it off. Not even after what she did. “Like you said, your mind can play all sorts of tricks. You know you weren’t actually there, right? You were just a kid. You’ve never hurt a fly, let alone killed anyone.”
I nodded. “I know. I mean, I was thirteen. I wasn’t really a kid. I was a teenager. But still, you’re right. I wasn’t there. I know I couldn’t have done something like that. So why am I suddenly dreaming it so much?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Would it help if we talked through it? If you told me everything that happens in these dreams?”
Another nod. “I think it would.”
He opened his palms wide. “Go ahead. I know I haven’t been around much, Lily, and that’s on me. But I’m still your father. You can still tell me things.”
I nodded and went into all the details. The gun. The splattered blood. The gore. The man’s voice.
His eyebrows shot up at that particular part. “A man? What man?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a man telling me that everything will be okay. I know it wasn’t you, because you were at the office with everyone else when it all happened. So I have no idea who it was.”
I left out the part where the man had asked ‘why did you do this?’ in the dream. It was too messed up to even think about, let alone say out loud, and I knew it never happened anyway.
Dad nodded slowly. “That was probably me, and you’re remembering that in your subconscious. When the police found Jenna and called the office to tell Jackson and me what happened, you were still asleep, and your mother was gone. I knew how bad it would be for you when you woke up, so when I got home, I went into your room and hugged you tight. I told you everything would be okay, even though I knew it never would be.” He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples before continuing. “I think you’re right, Lily. You should have a few more sessions with Dr. Steinberg, even if it costs the damn earth. I’d hate for you…”
His voice trailed off.
“Hate for me to turn out like Mom?” I asked quietly. “To totally go nuts?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it like that. Your mother was unwell, and that wasn’t her fault. What she did, though…that was her fault. But that’s beside the point. The answer to your question is yes. I’m worried. These thoughts, these dreams. They aren’t healthy. And as much as I care, I’m not a professional. I’m not sure how to help you get through this properly. So book an appointment and we’ll figure out a way to pay for it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He smiled. “Anything else on your mind?”
I filled him in on the whole internship debacle, and he nodded thoughtfully. “You could do it at my office. Not that there’s a hell of a lot of work to do,” he said, following that up with a short bark of humorless laughter.
“We aren’t allowed to do it at places owned by family members,” I replied. “I called a ton of other places this afternoon in a break between classes, but none of them said yes. They all said they already have interns or don’t need any.”
“I suppose at least next time you’ll know better than to leave things till the last minute.”
I sighed, heated shame creeping into my cheeks again. “I know. It just sucks so much. If I don’t find something by Monday, I automatically fail the course.”
Dad’s eyes widened suddenly. “What about…no, never mind.”
“What?”
“I had an idea, but it’s terrible. Forget it.”
“No, tell me,” I insisted. “I’ll fail the class if I don’t get an internship, Dad. Anything could help.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I was thinking…perhaps you could ask Jackson if you could intern for him or someone else he knows at the city council. He must have a lot on his plate with the senate campaign at the moment, and he always had a soft spot for you as a kid. I doubt he’d turn you down,” he said. Then he shook his head. “But it’s probably not a good idea. He wouldn’t want to see either of us. Too many…”
“Too many bad memories,” I said.
“Exactly.” He was quiet again as he mused about it for a moment. “But then again, maybe it’s time to try and start burying those. After all, the man still lives so close to us and we used to be best friends. Hell, we were practically family. It’s just horrible running into him sometimes and awkwardly acting like we don’t know each other. Like nothing happened when we all damn well know something happened. Something that tore us all apart. If you go and talk to him, Lily…maybe that could be a start. Maybe it would help us all move on once and for all. Lord knows we need it.”
My heart skipped a beat at the thought of going over to Jackson’s house for the first time in so many years. I couldn’t really do it…could I? Just this morning I’d seen him and decided that I had to stay the hell away from him because of the past. Now my father was suggesting the total opposite of that.
Part of me agreed with his first assessment of the idea—it was a terrible one. But a much bigger part of me wanted desperately to see Jackson again. Closer than this morning.
Much closer.
I knew it was inappropriate. Knew it was wrong. But I couldn’t stop the sudden images from flooding my brain.
Jackson on top of me.
Jackson pumping into my tight pussy, roughly stripping me of my virginity.
Jackson holding me down, claiming me, making me his.
In my little fantasy, it didn’t matter who he was. It didn’t matter what our history was. It didn’t matter that he was twice my age. The only thing that mattered was how it felt; that deep, burning desire.
“Maybe just try to call his office first. Test the waters,” Dad suggested, oblivious to my true thoughts. I snapped out of my reverie and nodded.
“I guess. But it’s Friday night. He’d probably be gone.”
He shook his head. “He’d probably still be at the campaign headquarters for his senate thing. These campaigns keep people like him working all night. So why don’t you do it now? Pretty sure you can find the number in the phonebook.”
I nodded and stood up, my hands shaking. If I was ever going to do this, I needed to rip the Band-Aid off and do it now. Right now. If I waited, I’d only get more and more nervous, and I’d never end up doing it. But I needed that internship, so I needed to swallow my fear and do it.
A little voice in my head seemed to snort at that thought. Yeah, right. I wasn’t really calling Jackson for an internship, and I damn well knew it. But would that stop me? No. Not now that all these terrible yet wonderful thoughts were flooding my mind.
I located the number in the book, and I picked up my phone, dialed the number and took a deep breath.
Then I hit the call button.