Louisa sighs. “I’m glad you’re back, Jenna. You were just a child when you left to live with your mother, and while I didn’t know your mother long, I knew enough to know she wasn’t your salvation from whatever was going on in that house with your father.” My eyes are getting wide. Where is she going with this? And what the fuck does she know? I hold on to the counter, grateful that there is something between Louisa and me to not conceal that my knees are shaking. She looks concerned and pats my hand. “You can come over anytime, Jenna.” She pushes the bag of leftovers to me and all I can do is take the bag and wander out of the kitchen, stunned.
“Let’s go,” I mutter to Devin and we walk to Justin’s car. Devin and Justin have been talking on the porch but they are quiet on the ride home and seem curiously wary of me. I just want to get back to the house, and I want to crawl into my bed with Kate and let her hold me while I cry, but for now I am a stone statue, and don’t let anything show, because I don’t want anyone to know that I’m broken.
Chapter 8
I wake up when the shadow casts over my face. Devin is standing there, and he looks pissed. “What the fuck, Devin?”
“What the fuck, Jenna?” he retorts back to me. I sit up slowly and shake my head and realize what he’s talking about. Shit, I think, I guess Kate went out last night. I can smell the alcohol fumes emanating from my pores. I’m dressed in only an oversized t-shirt, and it’s not mine. In the mirror tilted against the wall across from my bed I can see black eye makeup running down to my cheekbones. Not a pretty sight. I bite my red stained lip to keep from sobbing. Leaving the house as Kate and being completely unaware of it terrifies me. Kate doesn’t normally leave, she just does crazy shit at home. I wonder if my new living situation is what brought on her idea to leave the house. I look at my phone and don’t see any outgoing calls. Either she deleted everything or she just went out.
I stand up and make my way for the bathroom, and Devin grabs my shoulder to stop me. “Jenna, what can you tell me about last night? This is bad.”
“I know it’s bad!” I practically scream at him, visibly startling him. “Do you think I fucking like my body being taken over for whatever purpose she has for the moment?” He shrinks back and for a second I feel happy that he feels bad. He’s making me feel terrible. Moving in together was his awful idea, and I decide to make him realize it. “Did I fucking ask Jack to use me for his personal kiddie porn sex slave so I could spend the rest of my adult years trying to figure out how the fuck to grow up?”
Devin grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “Calm down, Jenna. Let’s talk this out.” He turns his head away from me. Oh god, is he crying? No, no, no.
“I need a shower,” I say and shrug his hands off of my arms. “I stink.” He backs away and nods. Just like I’m a child, he leads me into the bathroom, and I don’t say anything. For us, this is slightly routine, though we’re out of practice. He sits me down on the toilet and turns on the shower. Just like old times. Except now he leaves the room. We’re not kids anymore.
“Shower,” he tells me. “And brush your teeth. Then come to the front room and talk to me. I’ll make you an omelet, okay?” He sounds much calmer now, but I know he’s coddling me. I don’t really care, I just want to get clean and assess the damage without Devin breathing down my neck. He closes the door behind him and I pull my shirt off and step in to the shower. I turn the water all the way on hot.
There are bite marks on my thighs, which I also note are sticky with semen, much to my dismay. My breasts are raw and scratched, and there is a thumb print bruise on the side of my hip. Wonderful, I think. Guess I’ll have to hold off on that interview at Polekatz. I’m only partially being sarcastic. I’m also familiarly sore in certain places that I know Devin shouldn’t know about, so I’m grateful he stepped out so he doesn’t hear my sharp intake of breath when I put soap somewhere that stings.
Once I am scrubbed and clean and donned in a fluffy grey bathrobe I paddle off in fuzzy purple slippers to the kitchen and sit at the counter. Immediately a fluffy golden omelet shows up in front of me and I add salt and pick up my fork and begin to devour it. Devin stands on the other side of the counter, waiting for me to finish so he can lecture me. I watch as he stares straight ahead toward me but not looking at me. I know Kate bothers him, but I think it bothers him more that he can’t blame or shout at anyone presently in the room. It’s not his immature sister being stupid, it’s his psychotic sister possessed by her promiscuous self. Part of me has always secretly felt like Devin truly believes Kate is my fault, but he has never said so, and I’m afraid to ask.