Authors: Olivia Lynde
I inhale deeply, once... twice, and say,
almost in a whisper: "He tied me up and... took me to the master bedroom.
He sat me in a corner and woke my parents up. He..." Another deep breath
but I just can't seem to get enough air into my wretched lungs. Sweet heavens
have mercy and give me strength to do this! "He dragged Daddy to the
floor, just a few feet away from me, and left Mummy on the bed.
"He had covered their mouths with
tape. But not mine. So I screamed for help and screamed for his m-mercy... and
screamed and screamed until I had no voice left. And he just kept on s-smiling."
I inhale again, but it's useless. It's
like my lungs have contracted to dry husks. "He made me watch," I croak
out, "as he c-cut Daddy up and let him... b-bleed to death. Then he
started on Mummy... and while he was c-cutting her up... I lay in Daddy's
cooling b-blood. There was s-so much b-blood that it had spread as far as where
I was."
Seth's body around me is rigid with
tension and, I sense, awful rage. I'm even more afraid to look into his eyes
now, so I'm glad that I don't have to. But the clasp of his arms around me
hasn't faltered, even now, and I draw strength from it.
My closed eyes are burning but I just
scrunch them tighter and grit my teeth and force myself to go on. "When
Mummy had nearly b-bled out... he turned to me. 'Be a good little girl now, b-buttercup,'
he said, 'if you want to l-live.' Then he cut the tape around my hands and
ankles... and took me to Mummy. He gave me his b-bloody knife. And he said I
should f-finish her off—if I wanted to l-live myself."
"Jesus Christ,
Sunny
..."
I take a deep breath and speak in a rush.
I'm garbling my words, but I don't slow down; I have to get this out quickly,
while I still have the will to do it. "I had become so quiet and d-docile
he really thought I would d-do it. But I didn't want to l-live anymore, Seth...
I knew I didn't d-deserve it. I had been the one who brought this k-killer into
Mummy and Daddy's house.
"So I spun around and stuck the k-knife
in
him
. He was stunned. For an endless moment he just stared at me, then
his face... It changed again, and I thought, 'At least he's not s-smiling
anymore.' As I knew my name, I knew he'd k-kill me now.
"He backhanded me so hard he took
me off my feet. I flew through the air and landed maybe five-six feet away. He
pulled the k-knife out and s-started toward me. I remember thinking, 'And now I
go with Mummy and Daddy.' But he died before he ever made it to me."
"How?" Seth asks hoarsely,
holding me unbearably tight.
I'm crying now: great, ugly sobs quaking
through my body. "When I spun around with the k-knife... my hand went up
and I got him in the g-groin... The EMT at the scene said his f-femoral artery was
sectioned by the k-knife thrust. He b-bled out. But Mummy was already d-dead."
"Did the police know...?"
"I... I didn't know at first that
Mummy was d-dead. I c-cut the tape off her... But she was so s-still and
quiet... And there was s-so much b-blood everywhere. The police thought Mummy
s-stabbed him before she d-died. Because her hand wasn't t-tied. They asked me
questions, but I couldn't t-talk. Later I didn't want to t-talk. I... I'm not s-sorry
I k-killed him, Seth. But I used to wish... he had k-killed me too. Not just
M-Mummy and Daddy. It's what I d-deserved, Seth."
I'm buffeted by the bitter gales of my
grief, and Seth is my only mooring. His grip on me is strong and secure—even
now—and I cling to him desperately. Out of my mind with grief and regret and
fear, I keep pressing myself against him, trying to get closer, trying to
nestle deeper into him.
Over my cries, I hear his beautiful,
anxious voice: "Shh, Sunny, I'm here. I'm right here with you. You're safe."
Then, very fiercely: "Don't say you deserved to die, Sunny! Jesus Christ,
baby, it wasn't your fault! None of it was your fault! Shh, Sunny, shh, baby,
please stop hurting like this..."
"It was m-me who brought this upon
my p-parents," I sob. "I was s-stupid... and thoughtless and s-spoiled...
r-rotten. I enraged that m-man, I brought a k-killer into my h-home...."
My voice breaks. Then, with perfect clarity, I say: "It may as well have
been my hand that wielded the killer's blade when he killed my parents."
Lightning fast, Seth tips up my face. My
tear-logged gaze connects with blue, anguished eyes. Again he tells me in a
ragged voice, "It wasn't your fault! You hear me? It wasn't your fault!
Sunny, you were just five years old, baby.
"Damn it all to hell and back, but
how can you think you're guilty for what that whoreson did to your family?! He
was a psychopath and he latched onto you because he was a psychopath—and not
for any other reason. I'm telling you again: it wasn't your fault!"
His eyes are burning with pure rage and
conviction, burning even through the thick veil of my grief. Then he draws my
head down to his and kisses me everywhere on my tear-streaked face: soft,
consoling kisses that help me fight free from the horrific clutches of my
blood-soaked memories. When I try to draw back, he allows me a distance of a
couple of inches only. His warm palms are cupped around my cheeks, and he's
watching me with unflinching focus.
I whisper, "My night terrors are
the memories of what I did. They repeated in an endless loop the first six
months after my parents' death, and also during these last five years... And
whenever else you're not sleeping beside me. Seth, my nightmares are my penance
for my crime, and as awful as they are, I always thought they are far less than
what I deserve."
"Sunny, you—"
"Let me finish," I plead.
He nods reluctantly.
"I live with this darkness inside
me, Seth, and it never really goes away. You need to know that."
"But you never have nightmares when
you sleep with me."
I smile sadly. "I figured out the
reason for that years ago. Almost from the start. When I'm with you... you make
me feel as if I was more. Better than I am, worthy of forgiveness, of happiness
even, and safe as if no hurt can touch me... It's a fantasy, I know, but when
I'm with you, my soul and my heart and my entire being believes it. And for
that time at least, the darkness in me falls back. And there are no more
nightmares."
"Sunny, you do deserve happiness!
As for forgiveness... No one could hold what happened against you—it's only you
blaming yourself. And you have to stop, baby. You have to forgive yourself. "
"I don't know that I can ever do
that," I choke out.
"You have to, Sunny. I think that's
the only way how you can heal. I wish to God that
I
could heal you
forever instead of being just some temporary patch for your hurt. But only you
can really heal yourself, baby."
"What if I can't?" Over my
spluttering heartbeat, I ask, "Will you tire of me?"
Seth's poignant smile pierces me to the
very depths of my soul. "Just you try getting rid of me, Sunny. Just see
where
that
gets you."
My heart feels too small for the
immensity of feeling that this one boy of all people in the world can awaken inside
me. "Seth... That first night when you came into my room eleven years ago...
I knew then. When we locked gazes and it was as if I could see your soul—I knew
that we were each other's."
"It was the same for me," he
admits somberly.
My lips tremble and new tears burn
behind my eyelids, but I force them back and look at Seth as bravely as I can. "Can
you love me still, now that you know what I did?"
His eyes become luminous with
tenderness. "I can love you more. I'm proud of you because you're so
strong. Because you survived something that would have broken someone weaker a
thousand times over. Sunny—thank you for living and for coming into my
life."
"I may have survived, but I am
broken," I remind him sadly.
"No, Sunny, you're just a bit
battered. We both are. Or if we're broken, that's only when we're alone. But
now we're together, baby! And together, we're both whole."
I feel a new smile dawning on my face,
and this one is true and bright and straight from my soul. "I love you,
Seth."
And for his answer, I find myself pulled
back to him and into a kiss that goes on forever. There's just him and me, and I'm
happy—for one brief moment in time.
Before it all comes crashing down.
The following night, we're lying in bed,
tangled with each other. My head rests above his heart, which is still beating
much too fast. A few minutes ago our one-hour-and-a-half long making out
session came to a halt when I finally broke down and begged him to stop, I was
done for and couldn't bear more of his unleashed sensuality. My skin feels so
over-sensitized I think even the touch of a feather would drive me crazy right
now, and the fire he's stoked so skillfully in my core, even though he's given
me release, continues to smolder.
He's wrecked me utterly, but I'm
consoled by the knowledge that I've done the same to him. And I am guilty and
wretched because there's been no release for him.
I check my watch and see that it's
already after midnight, and I groan at the thought of having to wake up early
tomorrow for school.
I raise my head to meet my beloved's
stormy blue eyes. "You know, Seth, this is a very interesting way of
keeping to my usual pattern of not getting enough sleep at night." I grin.
"And one that I prefer infinitely." Much more fun to lose sleep
because of our bed play than because of my night terrors.
I start to slowly glide my left hand
down his chiseled chest but notice that he's suddenly strung tight and rigid
with a different kind of tension than before.
"Sunny... I meant to tell you. I'll
have to drive to Grand Rapids this Friday after getting off work." His
voice is husky with... remorse? I don't understand why, until he adds,
"I'll be gone overnight, baby."
Not once, in all the years we've spent
together since that time when he went alone to summer camp before third grade,
did he ever willingly spend a night away from me. He doesn't mean to do so
now... does he?
"That's okay, Seth. I can come with
you and—"
"No, Sunny. I'm going alone."
A long pause. "I'm so sorry, baby." And he does sound regretful...
but no less determined.
My lips are still puffy after all our
earlier kisses, but now they also feel as dry as scorched wood. I battle with
dismay at not being included in his plans, fear because he's leaving me
overnight... and weary acceptance that he has the right to do so. I can't
expect him to stay superglued to my side every moment of every single day.
Still, I have to ask, "Why do you
have to go?"
"It's for a job." Huskily, he
adds, "Please don't ask any more questions, Sunny. I need you to trust me
on this."
I trust him with everything. And I don't
want to be the ball and chain around his ankles.
Surely, Summer, you can
survive without him for one freaking night!
mocks my subconscious.
I take a deep breath. "It's all
right, Seth. I'll be fine here by myself."
"You're not staying in this
hellhole apartment by yourself!" he tells me fiercely. "It's too
dangerous. Before I leave, I'll take you to a hotel."
"We don't have money for a hotel."
"Fucking money," he murmurs so
quietly I know I wasn't supposed to hear. Then at normal volume: "You're
staying at a hotel while I'm gone, Sunny. That's non-negotiable."
"Okay. How long?"
"Until Saturday afternoon."
Another lengthy pause. "Can you last that long without sleeping?" he
asks me grimly.
"Yes. I've done it before."
"I'm sorry, Sunny."
"I know." I stroke his stony,
beautiful face. "It's all right, Seth. It will be all right."
* * *
It's Friday evening, and I'm in my hotel
room in downtown Rockford. The silence and loneliness are nearly suffocating.
I've become unused to being alone. Worst, I've become completely addicted to
Seth. And now I have to do without him.
He called me a couple of hours ago to
tell me he'd arrived in Grand Rapids. He sounded odd, distracted. Yet still
worried about me.
My phone rings and I dive to it, excited
to hear Seth's voice one more time tonight.
But it's not him.
I take the call. "Susan?"
"Super! You're not asleep yet.
Sorry for calling so late."
"That's okay. Did anything
happen?"
"No, nothing like that. It's
just..." She pauses, then continues (too) brightly, "A couple of us
girls want to go shopping tomorrow morning at the mall. Want to join us?"
"Umm..."
"Oh, I'm not the one driving—Tracy
is—so you don't have to worry." I can hear the smile in her voice, and my
lips curl up in response. Per Susan's own admission, put her in the driver's
seat and she "goes bonkers". She loves speed and at least once every
week at lunch, I hear her complain that she got another speeding ticket.