It was hellishly hot. I couldn’t see a thing, and I felt like I was choking. In an instant, I realized why it felt like it was a hundred degrees. A pair of arms was wrapped around me, pulling me into a warm, burly body. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see Nicholas, deep in sleep.
How had I gotten there? What was I doing in bed with him?
I looked down and saw I was dressed in a T-shirt that wasn’t mine and that was every bit as big as a nightshirt.
I could hardly breathe. Someone had taken off my clothes.
Panic overtook me. I sat up as best I could, leaning into the headboard. Nicholas opened his eyes when he felt me move, getting up and looking at me cautiously.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I asked, hoping I’d been so drunk I couldn’t remember changing in some bathroom.
“Jenna called me to pick you up. You were completely passed out.” He looked bedraggled and had fallen asleep in his clothes.
“Then what happened?”
He seemed to be weighing his words. My heart was racing.
“I took off your clothes—they had vomit all over them—and I put you in bed.”
I got up and walked to the other end of the room. I couldn’t believe what he’d done.
“How could you?” I shouted. He couldn’t know about my scar—he couldn’t! That would open the door to a past I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever go back to.
He stood and walked over warily.
“Why are you being this way?” He was clearly angry and in pain. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I don’t care, and I’ll never tell anyone. Noah, don’t look at me like that. I’m worried about you.”
“No!” I shrieked. “You can’t be worried about something you don’t know and never will know!”
I needed out, needed to be alone; things weren’t going the way I wanted, nothing was. My stomach was in knots, and I wanted to burst into tears.
As I turned around, I saw him, looking at once confused and yet somehow decided.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” I said. “Stay away from me.”
In a rage, he came close and grabbed me. I stood still, trying to control my breathing and my fear.
“You better get this through your head. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, and when you’re ready to tell me what the hell happened to you, you’ll realize you were making a serious mistake trying to push me away.”
I shoved my way past him. Thankfully he didn’t resist.
“You’re wrong. I don’t need you,” I said, grabbing my things off the ground.
I slammed the door on my way out.
I wanted to cry, cry without stopping, let out all the anguish that was building up inside me. Nicholas had seen my scar. Now he knew something had happened to me, something I didn’t want anyone to know, something I was ashamed of and had decided to bury deep down.
With trembling hands, I took off the T-shirt and got into the hot shower until my body warmed up because I felt frozen, ice-cold, inside and out. When I emerged from the bathroom and saw a white envelope on my bed, I thought I’d faint. Not again, not another letter, please, not today.
I grabbed the envelope. This was harassment; I needed to tell someone. I took out the paper inside and, getting hold of myself, started to read:
Remember what you did to me? I’ll never forget that moment when you ruined everything. Absolutely everything. I hate you. I hate you and I hate your mother. You think you’re important just because you’ve shacked up with a millionaire? You’re just a couple of whores who have sold themselves for money, but that won’t last. I’ll make sure of that, and when I do, your days of fancy schools with uniforms will go bye-bye.
A.P.A.
This was getting worse and worse. I needed to tell my mother. But I stopped myself. Will was giving my mother enough to deal with. Yesterday they’d argued. The last thing I wanted was to worry her and tell her I already had enemies in this new city. No, I couldn’t tell her about Ronnie, not without getting Nicholas into trouble. Those races were illegal, and if we went to the police, we’d have to tell them everything. Nicholas was twenty-two; that was old enough for prison, and if Ronnie got picked up, he wouldn’t hesitate to spill the beans about Nicholas and my friends.
If I wasn’t careful, things could go south.
I was scared to leave. I felt overwhelmed and sad, and all I wanted was to forget it all, just as I had the night before. Drinking until you passed out was bad, and I’d woken up with the worst hangover of my life, but it had been worth it. I’d done it because I couldn’t handle all my problems, all the demons inside me. Nothing made any sense, everything was threatening to destroy me, and I just needed an easy way out.
I sat down and looked at the clock. In forty-five minutes, I was supposed to show up for my second day of class. Nothing could sound more preposterous just then. As if under a spell, I put on my uniform, feeling bad or guilty. The words of whoever had written that letter wormed their way inside me. It was true—I didn’t deserve this life. It wasn’t rightfully mine.
When I went downstairs, Nicholas was in the kitchen with his father, immersed in a conversation. They stopped talking when I came in.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked, walking over to the refrigerator and taking out the milk.
“She’s resting still. I’ll take you to school today if it’s all right,” William said with a tense smile. The day before, my car had been making strange noises, and we had taken it to a garage. William looked more serious than normal. Whatever happened yesterday must have left my mother in bad shape if she didn’t want to get out of bed. I nodded, making a mental note to find out what the hell had happened between them.
Thankfully, Nicholas hardly looked at me. I didn’t want to see his face. Not knowing what he knew about me.
William took another sip of his coffee and turned to me.
“You ready, Noah?” he asked.
“As soon as you knot my tie, I will be.” He smiled. It was the first time I’d ever asked him for anything directly. It was strange. Without realizing it, I’d come to trust him, and I felt comfortable enough that I wasn’t afraid to ride alone with him.
The day passed mercifully quickly: Jenna couldn’t stop apologizing for letting me drink so much, even if she shouldn’t have. It was my fault, my fault alone. More girls who didn’t even know me came up to ask me what it was like to live with Nicholas Leister. I guess I’d turned into the talk of the school, and everyone either wanted to criticize me or be my friend. Jenna told me that was the price of popularity and I’d better get used to it, but I just wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. Especially because of the haters who couldn’t stand that I got to hang out with him whenever I wanted, and one of those was Cassie, Anna’s sister. I didn’t know what she was up to, but every time we looked at each other, she’d start whispering to whoever was next to her and laughing. It was childish, and I wasn’t in the mood for childish nonsense. I ignored her and her groupies and spent the day with Jenna and her friends. Surprisingly, I liked them. They were making plans for parties and all kinds of other stuff.
On the way out, I didn’t see my mother’s car waiting for me, but as more people left, I did see someone crouching behind a tree and leering.
Ronnie.
Adrenaline flooded my body. If he was the one writing the letters, I was screwed. He smiled when he realized I’d seen him and motioned for me to come over. He was some ways off, but if he tried anything, he’d easily be seen. There were still enough students around that I didn’t feel completely vulnerable. But where the hell was Mom?
I told myself I should just try to get it over with, and I walked over as resolutely as I could. When I was close enough, I looked at his nearly shaved head and the dozens of tattoos on his arms and neck.
“What?” I asked, cutting to the chase and trying to convince him he hadn’t gotten to me.
He laughed.
“Not so fast, sugar. You know you look sexy in that naughty schoolgirl uniform. You’re a bad little rich girl, I’d love to take it off and spank you,” he said, coming out from behind the tree and standing up straight.
“You’re gross, and if that’s all you have to say…” I turned around to walk off, but he held me back.
“You think you can just humiliate me the way you did and come out smelling like roses?” he whispered into my ear. I tried to get away from him but couldn’t, and a part of me wanted to listen anyway to figure out if he was the one sending the letters.
With all the self-control I could muster, I told him, “You’re a sore loser, and if I were you, I’d find a new hobby.”
“You’re a frisky one,” he replied. “I could use a girl like you, but if you open your mouth to spit some more of that bullshit, I promise you, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I asked, motioning behind me to be sure he knew doing anything to me there would be a stupid idea.
Thinking it over, he responded pensively, “I’ll do it all, baby, you can believe that. Just give me a little time. Anyway, I got something for you, something I’ll bet you didn’t expect.”
Then I saw it: the letter. It was him. Ronnie was the one threatening me.
“Your sick joke isn’t as scary as it was before,” I said, trying to keep a cool head. “What’s to keep me from reporting you for stalking?”
He seemed to find that funny.
“I’m just the messenger, sugar,” he said, stroking my face with the envelope. “Seems I’m not the only one who wants to get his hands on you.”
I didn’t get it. If he wasn’t writing the letters, who the hell was?
Just as I reached out to grab it, a car pulled up.
“Get away from her!” Nicholas shouted. He jumped out and ran in front of me.
Ronnie didn’t seem to care. Actually he smiled, as if this was what he’d wanted all along. I put the letter into my bag before Nicholas could see it.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he shouted. He was clearly on edge.
Ronnie stared at us.
“I see I was right… You’re trying to get between those legs too, aren’t you, Nick?”
Nick stepped forward while I grabbed his arm, trying to hold him back.
“Don’t do it,” I said. Nick fighting that dirtbag again was the last thing I wanted.
“Listen to your little sister, Nick. You don’t want to get into it with me. Not here.”
But Nick wasn’t scared. He stepped forward again, telling him, “Make sure I don’t see you near her again or I swear to God it’ll be the last time you ever see the light of day.”
Ronnie smiled, winked at me, and got into his car. Once he’d disappeared, I broke down, shaking all over.
Nick clutched my face.
“Please tell me he didn’t do anything to you.”
I shook my head, trying to keep my emotions inside. I couldn’t appear weak, not in front of him.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just take me home.”
In the car, I managed to relax. I tucked my hands under my thighs to conceal my tremors. But still, I couldn’t stop thinking about opening that letter. I told myself I wouldn’t read it, that whatever was written there could only make things worse.
“What did he say, Noah?” Nick asked after a moment’s silence. I didn’t really know what to say.
“He threatened me,” I replied. Vague but sincere.
He gripped the wheel tighter.
“How, exactly?”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter. What does matter is he wants revenge for the race.”
“He won’t lay a finger on you.”
I was thankful for his preoccupation, but it wasn’t necessary. I knew how to take care of myself.
“Of course he won’t,” I agreed…but was that the truth?
Back at home, William was in the living room with a group of lawyers, and when he saw me enter, he shut the door without even greeting me. It was strange, but I was more concerned with my mother then.
She looked tired and had bags under her eyes. She hugged me when she saw me. Whatever they were fighting about, it was clearly worse than I imagined.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I asked when she let me go.
“Of course,” she replied, hardly convincing.
“Is everything all right between you and Will? You can tell me,” I said, trying to get something out of her. She shook her head and gave me the fakest smile I’d seen in a long time.
“Everything is absolutely super, honey. Don’t worry.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t stay there trying to get information out of her. I needed to read the letter Ronnie had given me.
I went to my room and took it out of my bag with my nerves feeling raw.
The letter contained just one sentence.
You stole everything from me and now you’ll face the consequences.
P.A.P.A.
The letter fell out of my hand. And the memories returned.
The school bus had just dropped me off in front of my door. I was only eight. I had a drawing in my hand. I’d won a prize. My first prize. I wanted to tell my parents. I was running with a smile on my face, and then I saw.
My mother was on the floor surrounded by broken glass. He’d broken the table in the living room again. Blood was pouring out of her left cheek, her lip was split, and she had a black eye. But she got up as best she could when she saw me.
“Hey, honey!” she said in tears.
“Were you bad again, Mom?” I asked, stepping nervously toward her.
She nodded, and then a big strong man walked through the door.
“Go get washed up. I’ll take care of her,” my father said. My mother looked at us for a moment and then vanished behind her bedroom door.
I turned to him, still holding my picture.
“What did my precious little girl do?”
I was hyperventilating as the memories flooded in. I sat by the bed and hugged my knees. This couldn’t be happening.
I was helping Mom cook, but she was anxious. Things weren’t going well that day. She’d burned the bread; the pasta had gotten stuck to the pot. She knew what was going to happen, she knew, and she could feel the fear in her body. I was just a kid, but I understood that if you messed up the way my mom was messing up, you’d get in trouble.
“What the hell is this shit?” he said and got up, overturning the table brusquely. The plates and glasses crashed to the floor. I took off running and covered my ears with my hands and hummed a song, the same way I always did when that happened. That was what Mom told me I should do, and I didn’t want to disobey her.
But even then, I could still hear the screams and the kicks and punches.
I felt the tears stream down my face. I had gone so long without remembering.
Papa smelled bad. That day was going to be an awful one. Whenever Papa smelled bad like that, it was always a bad sign. The shouting started soon afterward, and I heard something break. I ran to my room and locked the door. I got under the blankets and turned off the light. The darkness would protect me. The darkness was my friend…
Suddenly I came back to reality. This couldn’t be happening again. I felt a sudden urge to vomit, ran to the bathroom, and expelled everything I’d eaten that day. I leaned against the sink and tucked my hands between my knees. I had to regain my composure somehow. My father was in jail. My father was in jail… He couldn’t hurt me, he was locked up, in another country, thousands of miles away. But if so, who could be doing this?
No one knew my past, absolutely no one, just my mother, the social worker, and the court that had put my father away. I needed a distraction. One, at least.
I picked up the phone.
“Jenna?” I said a second later. “I need your help.”
