Torn

"Just let me go." I push back against him and kick my legs up, trying to throw him off me but he's too big and muscular for me to even budge him.

"No. You might want to stop squirming, though, 'cuz I haven't had a woman under me in a long time either."

"Please..." My heart pounds in fear but I try to reel myself in so I can attempt to get some control over the situation. I already know he's mentally damaged. But I also know that this is Tor's brother, and somewhere in him must be the happy-go-lucky, caring, talented person that we once knew.

"You know who I am, right, Ty?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

"Yup. Little Kenzi Valentine all grown up." He rolls his hips against my ass and I suck in a shuddering breath, praying he doesn't touch me anymore and hoping he's just trying to scare me in some sick demented way.

"I'm still close to Toren, he's going to be mad if he finds out about this."

He lets out a maniacal laugh. "I'm not afraid of Tor. Sorry."

"What do you want?"

"I've been waiting to get you alone for awhile. You leave gifts for me. Why?"

I gulp some air. "I don't know...to be nice. I thought it would make you smile."

Another crazy hyena laugh erupts from him. "You think I need to smile?"

"Yes." I reply simply, because I believe it.

"You feel fuckin' sorry for me?"

I shake my head, my cheek pressing into the dirt. "No. I don't. I just think everyone deserves to have someone treat them nice."

"Even a monster like me?"

"Even you."

"I didn't take that girl," He says, his voice softening just a little. "And I didn't hurt her."

"I know that." And I did know that. When Tyler was found with a local girl that had been kidnapped years ago, everyone in this small town assumed he was the one who had held her captive for all those years. He was found standing over the body of a man dressed in an oxford shirt, with dark slacks and loafers who appeared to be a nice, normal man, while the girl stood by and wept, not saying a word. And there was Tyler, with wild long dirty blonde hair, tattoos covering most of his body which were actually hiding scars from years before, wearing old dirty motorcycle boots, ripped up jeans and a faded t-shirt stretched over muscles that had just been used as a weapon to take the life of someone. But in fact, Ty was the hero who saved her; he killed her real captor with his bare hands after he attacked Ty for accidentally stumbling upon the kidnapped girl hidden in a hole deep in the woods. Sadly, the press had already had their field day with the story before they knew the facts, and Tyler was crucified, pushing him even further into seclusion.

Leaning down close to my face, he pushes my hair to the side, and presses his lips against the spot just behind my ear and whispers in an evil, suggestive tone.

"It does make me smile."

He lifts himself off my back and pulls me up so we're both sitting in the dirt driveway.

"You hurt?" He asks.

I brush my clothes off and shake my head. "No, I'm fine."

"You shouldn't have run. And you shouldn't be out here in the fuckin' dark, either. You got any brains in that pretty head of yours?"

"My car died and my phone doesn't work. I didn't know what to do."

"Evil lurks in the dark, waiting for girls like you. I could have just raped the shit out of you. Or worse. Don't think it didn't fuckin' cross my mind."

I blink at him, frozen with fear. I'm alone in the dark with a lunatic who just admitted he thought about raping me.

"You should've stayed in your car."

"You're right." I peek over at him in the dark, grateful the moon is bright enough to throw off enough light for me to be able to see him and attempt to gauge his actions. "I thought you didn't talk anymore." On television the victims try to make small talk to calm the psycho down, so maybe I should try that, too.

He turns to face me and I catch a hint of his blue eyes under the moonlight and the jagged scars that run down the side of his face. "I don't."

"Then why are you talking to me?"

"I guess I'm feelin' fuckin' chatty."

He stands and tugs me up with him, pulling my arm so hard I'm afraid it will snap. "Now you're going to get on the back of my fuckin' bike like I asked and we're going to get a container of gas. You think you can hold it without falling the hell off?"

I nod my head. "Yeah."

"Or if you really want to put a smile on my face, you could come home with me and let me slam you into my headboard for a few hours." He suggests, his eyes roving over my body in a way that makes me feel extremely vulnerable and dirty.

"Ty...I'm in love with your brother."

He nods and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "Figures." He starts to walk back towards his bike. "Move your ass, Sugar. Consider this repayment for all the fuckin’ smiles."

I finally get home at one a.m. and breathe a massive sigh of relief when I get into the sanction and safety of my own bedroom. This has been the strangest night of my life. While I'm glad that Tyler came along to help me get gas, the altercation with him was bizarre and frightening. I feel like I should tell Tor about it even though Tyler asked me (more like told me) not to. His elevator is definitely not going to the top floor and he probably needs to be on some meds if he isn't already.

After changing out of my clothes and into yoga pants, I walk down the hallway to my father’s room. I'm glad to see he's not home as I slip inside and go straight to my mother’s night table, which hasn't been touched since the accident.

Opening the wooden door at the front, I grab the journal on the top of the stack of about ten handmade journals my father has made for my mom over the years that she religiously wrote in.

The leather journal has a lock and the key is around my dad's neck, so I take it over to her jewelry armoire and use an earring hook to pick the tiny lock. I'm hoping there will be some clues in here as to what they were talking about the morning of the accident and if she had feelings for Tor that went beyond friendship. If she did, I have no idea how I'm going to deal with that but it's definitely going to make me feel odd in a lot of ways.

"What are you doing?" His deep voice exploding into the silence makes me jump and I drop the journal. He crosses the room swiftly and picks it up before I have a chance to react. "You picked the lock? Jesus, Kenzi." He gently closes the journal and puts it back where it was in the night table, then turns to stare at me in disbelief.

"I just wanted to read some of it." I say.

"Those are private. I don't even read those. You don't think I want to? You don't think maybe it would help me feel closer to her in so many ways? But I can't, because it's wrong. These aren't our words to read, Kenzi. They're hers."

I stare up at him, feeling guilty because I know what he's saying is true. "I don't know how you do it, Dad. How do you keep your sanity with all of this?"

"With lots of love and faith. That's how. What are you hoping to find in these journals, Kenzi? Talk to me if something is on your mind."

I shrug helplessly. "I don't know. Lots of things I guess. I miss her, and I feel like I should have had more time to get to know her better. But if you really want to know, I was wondering about the conversation you two were having the morning of the accident."

"What conversation?"

"Mom said that Tor understands and why can't you? What did that mean?"

He sits on the bed with a distant look on his face, like he's trying to rewind back to that day. I sit next to him and wait.

"Mom wanted out of the band life," he finally says. "She wanted me out, too. She was tired of both of us traveling all the time, never having privacy or enough time with you, and she wanted to have another baby. I guess she and Tor had talked about it and he was supportive of it. And I get that. There's been a lot of times when I wanted out of the band, too, but it's hard to give up. It's been my entire life. All my blood, sweat, and tears. I love the rush of the audience, of writing and singing new songs. You and your mom have always been more important to me, but leaving the band...it's just such a hard thing to even think about. It would affect my brothers, and my cousins, too, since they're in the band. I have to think about everyone involved, ya know? It's not easy."

"I understand, Dad."

"That morning we were talking about it again. Sometimes your mom would mention that Tor was always so understanding, and he is. That's just who he fuckin' is and what we all love about him. But sometimes I got sick of hearing it. Nobody wants to hear that another guy understand his wife better than he does sometimes. That's all it was."

He grabs my mother’s pillow and holds it against his chest. "I'm sorry I yelled at you about the journal. It's just private and I try to respect her personal things."

I feel ashamed of myself for prying into her journal. "I'm sorry I tried to read them. I've just been moody and confused lately."

"I can take you to see her, Kenzi. Maybe if you just sit and talk to her, you'll feel better. That's what I do. There's a good chance she can hear us, the doctor said so."

My heart does the lurch and freeze like it does every time we talk about my mother. I don't know if I can sit by her bed, hold her lifeless hand, and chatter on about my day while she lays in a bed, trapped in sleep. A few times I've tried but it doesn't feel like she's there, and it seems cruel to talk to her when she can't respond. What if she can hear us and she wants to respond and she feels trapped and scared? What if she is really petrified, wherever she may be mentally? Or is there just nothing there anymore? These are the things that drive me insane and make me sick with worry. All I know for sure is I miss her smile and her amazing eyes that once held so much life and happiness.