13. Ren
13
REN
H ow do prisoners with a life sentence do this? How do they live day in and day out in a cell, with nothing to do, nowhere to go? Nobody to talk to, either. I swear, if I didn’t already have a problem in my brain, I would before long. There’s nothing to do but think and stare at the ceiling.
This isn’t all about keeping me away from the rest of the family. It’s not about keeping Scarlet safe. I’m being punished, too. This is my sentence after everything I’ve done. It doesn’t matter that I don’t remember it. It doesn’t matter that I could have killed Q, but wasn’t able to bring myself to do it. The same is true with Aspen. I couldn’t go through with it.
But River could have. River would have. And River is me, and Xander can’t forgive that. He might try to help me, but he won’t forgive. Which is why I’m isolated, with no entertainment except for a big book the doctor left for me and no trips outside for fresh air.
The only thing I have to look forward to in my day is a visit from Scarlet and my parents, though my family visits are usually short and tense. Scarlet promised to bring dinner tonight, and my heart jumps when her footsteps echo down the hall. “Dinner time!” she calls out. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.
I drag the cot over to the bars and sit down in time for her to set the tray down on one of the chairs positioned across from me. There’s a slot close to the floor, giving her just enough room to slide a plate underneath. I lift the lid to find a sandwich, chips, a few fresh cookies that smell like chocolate and sugar. I was hoping for something a little more substantial, but I understand the thought process. They don’t want me to have anything I would need a knife and fork for. Not yet. Scarlet, meanwhile, has a plate of grilled chicken and roasted potatoes. I’m too hungry to care about the difference right now.
I’m too glad to be with her. Everything is brighter, somehow. Better. It’s easy to lose hope while wasting my life away in a cell, but she restores it just by being here. Letting me bask in her light and warmth.
“How are you feeling?” she asks while I take a huge bite of the thick sandwich. It’s loaded with turkey and cheese, plus a thick layer of mayonnaise.
“Did you make this?” I ask rather than answer her question right away.
Her head bobs up and down while a pleased little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I remembered you like it that way.”
“I mean it when I call you angel.” Taking another bite and swallowing, I tell her, “I’m all right. Bored to death but feeling okay.”
“I have to talk to Dad about getting you things to do down here.”
“That would be great, but don’t push it. I don’t want him getting pissed with you because of me.” And I don’t want him telling her she’s not allowed to come down here anymore. She’s the only thing keeping me centered now. I can’t go through this without her.
“Maybe I’ll have Mom talk to him about it,” she suggests. “He takes things like that better from her.”
She’s not going to let it go, so it’s pointless to argue. “Good idea.” Munching on a chip, I observe her for a while. “How are you feeling?”
“Great. Really, I feel good.” So why is her voice so sharp? She’s trying too hard. I guess this can’t be easy on her, either.
“I would give anything if I could go back and redo everything,” I murmur as the usual guilt spreads through my chest. “I hope you know that. I would do anything if I could make that happen.”
“I know. But this all started when you were little—-even before you were born. All of that evil… you’re not responsible for it.”
“I know.” I also know she’s only telling me what she has to. I know I’m not going to stop feeling like shit for what I did anytime soon.
What am I thinking? I should be focusing on her. Being with her. I have all the time in the world to lie here and blame myself. “What have you been doing lately?”
“Aspen wants me to go shopping with her for the baby.” She spears a piece of potato and drags it through some sort of sauce, chewing her lip.
“You don’t sound excited about that.”
She lifts a shoulder, staring at the plate. “I mean, it’s shopping. I like shopping. But it’s weird trying to be excited for her when I know you’re down here.”
“Don’t let me hold you back.” That’s the last thing I want. I’ve already hurt her enough.
Her head snaps up before her face falls. “No, I don’t mean it that way at all. I… I guess I don’t know what I mean.”
This is probably a good time to talk about something that’s been on my mind since I saw the doctor. “Did you ever think about maybe talking to somebody? Like a doctor?”
“A doctor? Why? I’m fine.” And she’s defensive, too. Why is she so defensive? “I’m totally healthy.”
“I mean somebody to talk to about what happened. Back at the compound, the shit I don’t remember from the cabin. That had to be a lot for you. Maybe the doctor can help you process it. I want that for you.”
At least she doesn’t avoid looking at me now, giving me a gentle smile that lights up her face. “That’s so sweet of you to worry about me, but honestly, it wasn’t all that bad. I’m working through it. And I know that nothing you did when you were River actually came from you.”
The way she says it is what gets my attention. That sounds like something she’s told herself a lot. Something she memorized. Is that what she needs to believe? “What did he do?” I ask, voicing the biggest and loudest question, the one that keeps me up at night. “River. I’ve been lying here, beating the shit out of myself, imagining the kind of shit that makes my stomach turn. And I’m afraid even that isn’t anywhere close to what you went through.”
“Honestly, he didn’t do that much to me. I mean, sometimes you would act a little differently, but there’s a reason it took me so long to figure out there was something wrong with you. I just figured you were going through mood swings, something like that.” She cuts into her chicken like it’s no big deal. I have to wonder how many times that happened. How many times did she have to make excuses for me?
“Anyway,” she continues with a sigh, “most of the time, it wasn’t so much what he did, but more what he said.”
The hair on the back of my neck lifts as I watch her, waiting for a clue to explain what she’s hinting at. Finally, I’m tired of waiting. I blurt out, “What did he say to you?”
“It’s not important.” She’s trying like hell to sound lighthearted, but I know better. What, does she think we just met? I know her better than she knows herself.
I watch for a few seconds as she moves food around on her plate. It’s an excuse to keep from looking at me. I love her for it, but it irks me a little, too. “I’m not going to break,” I mutter, pushing food around on my plate the way she does. “What does that mean?”
Her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, which she releases slowly. “It means what I said.”
“You don’t have to be worried that you’re going to hurt my feelings or anything like that. I can handle it. And I should know what… what I’ve done to you.” Damn, that’s hard. Part of me knows it wasn’t me who hurt her, but I don’t want to hide behind that excuse, either. I’m not some pussy who can’t face his mistakes.
Clearly, she doesn’t agree. Her face goes stormy before she drops the fork on the plate, loud enough for the sound to echo. “Don’t say that. Don’t you say that.”
“I’m not supposed to tell the truth?”
“You didn’t do anything! And you know it. Or at least you should by now. Hasn’t the doctor told you that?”
“I know what I know.” The pain on her face kills me. I’m hurting her all over again. But dammit, I’m not going to sit here and pretend. “I’m not saying any of this to upset you. And I’m not saying it so you’ll tell me I’m wrong or anything like that. I’m telling the truth. There might not be a real River, but he’s inside me. He’s part of my mind. So yeah, I did those things.”
“Only because somebody else did even worse things to you when you were too little to handle it. I’m sorry.” She sighs when I roll my eyes. “That’s just the way it is. I love you, and that’s not going to change, and I’m not going to let you punish yourself for something you had no control over.”
“Fine. If none of that was my fault, tell me what River did. What did he say? I mean, you’re not talking about anything I did, right?” Is it shitty to back her into a corner? Probably. But I need to know. Not knowing is much worse.
“He was mean. He said some really mean things.” She spears a piece of chicken and pops it into her mouth, staring at me while she chews. Refusing to look away this time. There. Is that what you wanted to know?
“Like what?”
An invisible wall falls between us. I see it in the way her nostrils flare. The light drains from her eyes before she murmurs, “I don’t want to talk about this. Besides, it’s all in the past now, anyway.” I’ve never seen anybody stab a potato as hard as she does with her fork.
She has a point. Rehashing that shit won’t do anything to change it. And if I had half a fucking brain, I wouldn’t be dredging it up and forcing her to think about it. “I’m sorry,” I offer. Now the sandwich tastes like sawdust, and I’m not hungry for the rest, anyway. But I’d only make her worry if I don’t finish the meal, so I force myself through it. In the grand scheme of things, it’s the least I can do.
Because I owe her so much more. More than I can ever hope to repay. I could live for a hundred years and not come close to balancing the scales.
Besides, who’s to say I won’t do worse things to her in the future? There are no guarantees. I don’t know if I’m going to get better or whether I’ll get worse somehow. What if the doctor unlocks River and the real me never comes back? The worst part is never knowing when it’s going to happen. I only know after the fact when it’s too late to stop myself.
“You shouldn’t come down here anymore.” I slide the plate under the door before standing and replacing the cot in the corner of the cell. “I appreciate it, but it’s not safe. I’m not safe.”
“What are you talking about? Look at me!” she almost barks when I keep my back to her. “Dammit, Ren. Look at me. At least give me that much.”
That’s easy for her to say. She doesn’t know how hard it is to deny her anything when she’s looking at me with those big, innocent eyes.
Eyes that look like they’re starting to well up with tears when I gather up the balls to face her. “I’m not going to let you push me away. Fuck that,” she mutters, trembling. “I am not deserting you.”
“It’s not deserting me if I flat out ask you to stay away.”
“Well, I’m not doing it. I’m coming down here, and you can’t stop me.” She picks up my plate and returns it to the tray before adding her own. “Obviously, you’re not in the mood to talk, and that’s fine. I’ll leave you alone.”
She’s halfway down the hall before she adds, “But I’m coming back tomorrow for breakfast.”
Just like her brother. She always has to have the last word.