ONE
Gigi
Seven Years Later
My intruder had piercing green eyes, as breath-taking as the finest emeralds, and hair as dark as the midnight sky. Yet I feign ignorance, shrugging as I reiterate, “I didn’t see them. They left by the time I’d realised anything was wrong.”
Police Officer Brady sighs and brings her attention to the walkie-talkie positioned right above her heart. Static interjects, and I drown out the noise, focusing on the flashing lights of police cars idling outside my home.
People vacate the premises as I sit on the ambulance floor, my legs swinging from the open truck doors. The lights turn to a dull blur, my brain forcing the colours to appear as flickers of bokeh – an action forced by the ever-growing migraine practically splitting my skull in half.
The paramedic presses a reassuring hand to my shoulder, instantly sharpening my focus, as she details her findings to the policewoman standing before me. There’s nothing to relay. Perhaps the aftermath of shock at best.
Despite the police desperately pressing me for information, I’ve rehashed the same story all night. The words “I didn’t see them” have become as easy as breathing at this point.
You’ve probably heard the story already, but in the rare case you haven’t … someone managed to sneak through the security system and into our house without leaving so much as a crumb. If the nosy neighbours detailed the gossip to the local Sunday paper, you’d also know the house was eerily quiet since my parents were out of town. I wouldn’t have noticed anything out of line if it wasn’t for Jack’s door being ajar. That was how I knew something was wrong.
Nobody ever goes into my brother’s room. Not since—
I shake my head, ridding myself of the intrusive thoughts.
Too much misery for one night.
“Can I leave now?” I ask the women.
The blunt question forces the pair to pause their conversation, but I fail to feel remorse. I’ve been sitting in this ambulance for hours, and on top of knowing I’ll have to face the wrath of my mother and father, my exhaustion has increased tenfold. God knows how upset they’ll be that their trip was cut short. Not so upset that they’d fly home to London tonight though – that much I noticed.
“I was just telling Officer Brady that your vitals appear normal and I have no concerns.”
I nod at the paramedic.
“If anything changes, then I encourage you to make an appointment with your doctor.”
“So I’m free to go?” I clarify.
The officer sighs and digs into her front pocket, retrieving a crumpled business card, which she hands over. I’m reluctant to take it, but the thought of escaping sooner makes me stuff it deep in my pocket alongside crumpled receipts and discarded wrappers.
“We’ll be in touch, Miss Thomas. If you remember anything, please call.”
I’ve already lost the weighted tartan blanket and replaced it with my corduroy jacket before she’s finished speaking. I finger the buttons, all while feeling her pressing gaze .
The screech of tyres and a horrendous chugging engine steals our attention. The old banger trailing up the road leaves scorched rubber marks on the tarmac, but I smile and gesture towards Greg’s poor excuse for transport.
“And that’ll be my ride. I’ll let you know if I remember anything.”
I turn to leave, but my feet grind to a stop as I hear Officer Brady softly say, “Gigi, wait.”
Fuck. I was so close to getting away.
I crane my neck to meet her gaze. Her expression softens, and I see the fight unleashing within the depths of her blue eyes. Immediately sensing what she’s about to ask, I save her the misery and turn to her fully.
“I don’t need your sympathy,” I tell her, my words lacking conviction. “I’m doing better, I swear. Every day is a little easier – just like everybody said it would be.”
I want to kick myself for being so short with her since it was her knocking on our door five years ago to explain Jack’s vehicle had been found at the site of a fatal collision. She was the one who escorted us to the hospital to identify the burnt remains that barely resembled a body.
I don’t tell Officer Brady that I cry myself to sleep every night.
I don’t dare tell her I’ve been struggling to feel an inkling of human emotion – except grief – for months.
Not until tonight, that is …
My footsteps are practically silent against the plush cream carpet as I tread closer towards Jack’s door. My fingers move round the doorknob, daring to push it open.
A small nagging voice in the back of my brain tells me to put my senses on high alert, yet an even bigger part of me aches to chase the thrill and welcome the humanity of fear like an old friend.
Choosing the latter, I turn the doorknob, and a breath catches in my throat.
There’s someone in my house .
Not only are they in my home, but they’re standing directly in front of me.
Facing me.
I shake my head again, allowing the thought to pass, as I force a smile to mask any uncertainty. The officer’s tapping foot and stiff shoulders are a dead giveaway she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. Despite everything, she steps back and says, “Have a good evening. Try to get some rest.”
“I will, thank you.”
As I finally approach Greg’s car, he leans over and pushes the door open to allow me into the passenger seat. The media console plays a late-night radio station with a gentle hum. His brown eyes barely spare me a glance as he waits for me to buckle my seatbelt. Once it’s secure, he pulls off from the side of the road, and I jerk in my seat at the erratic movement.
Each painfully silent minute that passes causes me to cringe until I say, “Whatever’s on your mind, just say it.”
His hands tighten on the wheel. He focuses on the road ahead. “If you’d just chosen to stay with me, it would never have happened.”
I sigh, wishing I didn’t ask. “Greg, not now. Please.”
There’s no denying things are more complicated between us than ever before – more so on his end. I’ve made it clear I don’t see a future between us. At one point in college I thought I did, but that thought vanished as quickly as it appeared. He was my first love, but that was all he was: a first. Unfortunately, he’s never let the idea of us go.
The complications have increased in the past few years, ever since Jack left us. I’ve been dying to feel something – anything – and Greg St. James has conveniently been there to provide that for me. While I’m doing nothing more than trying to experience life again, it’s evident he struggles to accept an intimate night together without fluffy aftereffects.
I guess it’s always been in me – selfishness, the ability to be brutal and risk others’ happiness to serve my own purpose. It’s perhaps the only gene I inherited from my parents that I’m thankful for.
We don’t utter another word for the remainder of the journey.
The house is in the same poor condition as always as we pull up on the street outside the front door. Post overflows the letterbox, weeds climb the front porch, and weeks of discarded newspapers litter the steps. As if sensing my silent judgement, Greg smiles apologetically as he turns the key in the lock.
We both step inside from the cold, and he takes my jacket from my shoulders, slipping it onto the coat hook to his right. Like clockwork I force a smile, offer out my hand, and catch his problematic frown before he presses his palm into mine.
I need this , I think to myself.
Once we reach his bedroom, I tread over to his bed and press my back against the mattress, pulling him down onto me as I wrap my thighs round his waist. He’ll never outright tell me no, but his eyes say everything that words can’t …
Pain.
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowers his head to my neck and peppers delicate kisses against the skin. My eyelashes flutter, and I feel the moment my mind claws at the events of this evening – just hours earlier. I fully shut my eyes, welcoming the flashback into my thoughts with ease.
There’s an intruder in my home, and they’re standing directly in front of me.
Facing me.
Their body is concealed by a dark shadow, but the moonlight licks at their skin, illuminating their strong jaw, enticing height, and piercing green eyes that hold my body captive.
There’s something … unspoken between us . It’s electric, like invisible bands tying us together at the chest, stretched to maximum capacity, threatening to snap and pull us together by force.
His presence is as intoxicating as a drug, and I fear I’ll be chasing this euphoric sensation for the rest of my life.
When the intruder climbs out of the window with the grace and confidence of a criminal, I make a promise I’m destined to fulfil.
I promise you, stranger, I will find you again.
Pulling me from my mind, Greg’s lips travel over my jaw and towards my mouth, leaving kisses in his path. I tilt my head away.
Lost in the motion between a dream and reality, I plead into the night, “Just make me feel something.”