Blood and Bone(20)

I hate that she has lived through this, especially since she is the person who was my savior when I needed her.

"Are you okay for money?" I ask it, not certain if we are close that way or not. But I have some savings.

She smiles wide. "I got a letter when you was declared dead. It had a  check for compensation. I couldn't even spend the money in this lifetime  if I tried." She pauses, blushing. "Lord, I s'pose I'll have to give  the money back now."

I shake my head. "No. They won't make you pay it back. You earned it with pain and suffering."

She grins. "Well then, yeah. I'm just dandy." Her bitter grin fades into  a real one. "Better now that you're here. Can you stay long?"

"Not this time, but I'll be back, I promise." I lift my finger, pointing  at the door. "There's a man from the government waiting for me outside.  I just had to come and see you. It's part of my treatment to get my  memory back."         

     



 

A worried look joins the wrinkles on her face. "You still working for them?"

I nod slowly. It's a lie, but it might help her sleep better to know I  have a job. "They're just trying something to jog my memories. My father  is a trigger for me, apparently. I just need a few details."

Her brow furrows, but she stands hesitantly, leaving the room without  speaking. She's gone for several minutes, leaving me alone in the room.  My eyes start to wander, taking a trip across the walls of the small  front room. Pictures of me, my aunt, and the cat line the walls. My  school pictures start young: ten, I'd say-maybe even younger. They go to  university and military. The three of us are one tiny happy family in  the group shots.

There are very few pictures of me with my mom before she died, and none  with my father. As far as these walls tell, he never existed.

She clears her throat when she comes back in holding a file folder. She  grips it in a way that has me convinced she doesn't mean to give it to  me. But she holds it out with a trembling hand. "I will not discuss it,  but I think some answers are in here." She takes my hand in hers when I  stand and reach for it. Her blue eyes fill with emotion as she speaks  gravely. "Leave this in the past, Sam. This doesn't belong to you  anymore. It never was yours; it was always his."

I nod, letting her wrap her frail arms around me once more. When I close  my eyes and inhale her, I swear I'm back to being a kid. "I missed you  so much," she says.

"Me too. I didn't know what it was, but the hole in my heart feels so much smaller with you here."

Her voice sounds wet when she mutters into my neck, "Don't stay away so long this time."

"I won't. I'll be back before you know it." I hold her, trying to  convince myself of the reasons I could stay here with her. I haven't  felt like I was at home in ages, and in this home I do.

She kisses me on the cheek. "Can you stay one night?"

I nod. "I'll go tell the man with me to come back for me tomorrow."

"You can sleep in your old bed. It'll be like before you left for college."

I sigh into her, agreeing and anticipating sleeping in my old bed and  being away from all of this for one night. I slip from her arms and head  for the front door. I open it, waving at Rory. He climbs from the car,  cocking an eyebrow.

"Get a hotel; I'm staying with my aunt tonight."

"Seriously? You couldn't have told me that half an hour ago?"

I lift my middle finger up out of my pocket. "Here's my apology." It's the crudest thing I've ever done, that I recall.

He grins as if he expected nothing less.

I turn back inside, closing the door and leaning my back against it.

"I can make falafels. They were your favorite when you were little. No meat, ever."

I nod, not bothering to tell her I eat meat just fine now. Her excited  smile and lit-up eyes are the best image I have seen in a long time.

When I go to bed that night, I am at perfect peace. My eyes are heavy,  too heavy to read the file folder. I fear there is terrible stuff that  will ruin my sleep, so I leave it, not wanting to ruin the perfect day.  My room looks like maybe it hasn't changed since I left, a very long  time ago. There are posters of people I don't recall, and figurines. The  bedspread looks old, and yet it's softer than any I have slept on. The  window overlooks the yard next door, with a large tree between the two  houses.

I climb into the small bed, noticing the lack of comfort but recalling  it in some way. I fall asleep quickly, dreaming about Binx and Derek and  a plate filled with spaghetti.

My sleep is restless, and at one point I lift my head, unsure of where I  am. There is a shadow of a man standing in the corner. I blink, unsure  of his actually being there or not. I part my lips to scream when I  realize there truly is a shadow cast by a man.

Derek steps into the dim light of the alarm clock, putting his finger to his lips.

I don't move. It's similar to being hunted by a lion or a panther.  Seeing him in the shadows makes me lean more toward panther. His eyes  are filled with all kinds of crazy. When he sees I'm not going to scream  he relaxes, still keeping his finger to his lips.

The look on his face grows soft and peaceful. My eyes fuzz out, but the  image of him smiling at me from the shadows gets stuck in my head. I  feel things, like his hands holding me and air whooshing around my body.  Wind and heavy air hit my face as I jerk as if going downward.

My eyes open as my head drops back and I see the family photos, but  they're upside down. His breath hits me in the face as he takes each  stair to the main floor. My eyes flutter, and I lose a second.         

     



 

Suddenly the room feels different as everything spins and cool thick air  drags its way across my body. I lose everything there, all sense and  consciousness.

When I wake I'm in the back of a moving car. Derek is driving. Seeing  him makes me smile, but something feels wrong. Waking is still a foggy  mess for me. I don't remember why we got into the car. I don't remember  why we aren't in the Mercedes.

My head spins, and I have to replay the last couple of memories to  figure out that I shouldn't be in any car with him. It's hard when he's  the only thing I recall for years. I instantly trust him every time I  see him.

He glances back at me, smiling. It isn't the one I love. It's not a full smile-his heart's not in it. "You're awake."

"What are you doing?" I almost want to ask what he's going to do to me,  but I think starting off accusing him of things is a bad plan. I don't  know what makes him snap. He's always been sweet to me. I haven't ever  seen him lose his mind.

He lifts the folder from my room. "Do you know the effort it took to  make this go away? Do you know how hard it was for me to take this from  you? Why can't you see that this was the whole reason for it all?"

My heart stops. "What's in that folder?"

His expression changes. "I'm going to show you."

I sit up, rubbing my eyes and trying not to vomit. "What did you give me?"

"Your sedative." His eyes find me in the rearview. "I have tried to  protect you from yourself for years, Jane. Years. Everything is for you.  If you say you'll trust me and won't fight me on this, we can turn  around and drive to a new place. We won't have to discuss this anymore."  He pleads with his eyes.

I shake my head. "I need to know. I need you to tell me what's going on."

A defeated look crosses his eyes. He doesn't talk again. I curl up in  the backseat, contemplating what chance I have of escaping. It doesn't  look good. I'm lethargic from the sedative and not nearly as strong as  he is.

When he stops the car I realize my eyes are closed; like an idiot I've  relaxed. It's hard not to. He makes me calm. He's still the person in  the world I trust the most.

I stretch, looking around. Instantly I'm panicked. We are parked outside of a small house. My father's house.

My heart starts first, followed by my mouth drying out and my eyes  watering. He sighs, staring at the house. "Don't make me do this," he  mutters.

"Okay. I trust you. I don't want to go in there. I'll do whatever you want, just don't make me go in there."

"Don't lie to me, Jane. I know you far better than you know yourself."  He doesn't look back, but I can hear the emotion in his voice. "You're  making me do this because you don't believe I have your best interests  at heart." He takes a few deep breaths. Each one echoes in the silence  of the car, torturing me with its intensity. When he's worked himself up  enough, he gets out abruptly, ripping open the door.

"Don't do this. I don't want to do this. Let me come with you. I'll be good. I'll stay with you forever."

When his hands come for me I fight and scream, but the difference in us  is remarkable. He drags me, kicking and screaming, from the car. I know I  make contact with my flailing legs and arms but he doesn't flinch. I  scratch and bite but his hands are strong, nearly as strong as his will.  He flips me over his shoulders, carrying me inside. He kicks the door  open, letting light into the dank space. When he gets inside the small  front room, he closes the door. I scream again, but he lowers me,  clamping a hand over my face. "Shhhhh. You don't want to disturb the  energy here. Let it lie; it's better when it's calm in here."