Chapter 3 #2
Blowing out a deep sigh, I pull my eyes from the chair and the ghost of the woman who once treated it like a throne.
Letting her fade from my memories should be easy.
After all, she forgot I existed altogether, at least until my body changed from that of a girl into one of a woman.
Then she noticed me, but not as her daughter—as her competition.
That’s when the physical abuse started. It was a way to beat down my confidence and pride.
To make me feel small and helpless. And for a long time, it worked.
In those days, I longed for her to go back to being neglectful.
I spent half my life praying for her to notice me and the other half wishing to be invisible.
Is it any wonder I’m as fucked in the head as I am?
I walk out of the living room, gathering my courage to look around the rest of the house.
I know without needing to go any farther that the whole house is going to need, at the very least, a deep cleaning if I want to sell it for anything other than a loss.
I don’t care about making money on it. I’ll be happy as long as I can make enough to cover any outstanding debts she left behind.
I don’t know who paid for her funeral or if that’s another expense I’ll be expected to foot, even though it took place long before the lawyer tracked me down.
A loud bang outside has me turning toward the house next door.
I hear yelling and then a door slam before I spot a flash of blonde zip past the window toward the back gardens.
Curiously, I make my way down the hall, toward the back door, and peer out the grimy window next to it, surprised to see the bent-over shoulders of someone sitting on the steps to this house crying.
I should leave it alone. There is absolutely no good that can come from me going out there.
But as I watch the young girl cry, I flash back to all the times I cried alone on those same damn steps.
I would have done just about anything for someone to have wrapped their arms around me and asked if I was okay.
I pull the keychain from my pocket and find the back door key.
I pause with it in my hand while I decide what to do.
The sob that breaks free on the other side of the door is what finally makes the decision for me.
The door creaks when it opens, making the girl turn around and reveal her tear-stained face.
A face that was tear-stained the last time I saw it, too.
I stare in shock at the beautiful teenager in front of me.
She had been eleven years old the last time I saw her in the arms of her brother.
Now, she must be the same age I was when everything fell apart.
Katy had always been pretty, with her long blonde hair and her big blue, doll-like eyes.
But now that she’s grown into her own skin, she’s an absolute knockout.
She looks at me with confusion and wariness before recognition dawns.
I expect her to start yelling at me, to tell me how I had ruined her life, and how she hated me.
What I don’t expect is to get almost barreled over as she flings herself into my arms and sobs her heart out on my shoulder.
I freeze for a second, not sure what to do.
This is the first time I’ve been touched by someone, other than a brush of a hand or an accidental bump, in years.
Three years, to be precise. I don’t count my time being pushed around.
Turns out comforting someone is instinctual. I wrap my arms around her like I used to when she was all gangly limbs and hold her tightly as I breathe in the fresh scent of her floral perfume.
She pulls back and looks up at me in wonder.
“I’ve missed you so much. Where have you been?
Are you moving back here now?” She fires her questions at me, making me smile.
I motion to my throat and then open my mouth and shake my head.
She looks confused for a second, so I repeat the motions until she gets it, feeling a little like Ariel trying to explain losing her voice.
“You can’t speak?” She finally gets it.
I shake my head. I’ve not spoken one word since the accident.
Doctors tell me that physically, there is nothing wrong with me.
But mentally...well, that’s a whole different thing altogether.
Selective mutism, they call it, a side effect from my PTSD—the fancy label the medical professionals stuck on me.
But that’s not really the case. Mine is more like elective mutism.
I don’t speak because I don’t want to. I’m not sure my voice would even work now after so many years of not using it.
“From the accident?” she asks. I nod. It’s not like I could even begin to describe the fucked-up-ness of the situation.
“I heard about your mom. I’m sorry,” she tells me, wiping away the stray tears that cling to her cheeks.
Not wanting to talk about my mother, I reach forward and wipe one of her tears with my finger and hold it up for her to see.
I cock my head and frown at her in question.
She sighs and plonks herself down on the steps.
I sit down beside her and wait for her to speak.
“I got into a fight with Mom and Dad again. I want to join the army.” I look at her in surprise. It’s not the first time she told me this, but she was eleven at the time. I guess I expected her to change her mind a dozen times since then.
“Mom and Dad want me to go to college and make something of myself. I looked around and applied for dozens, and I know I’ll get in. It’s just not what I want. It isn’t what they want either,” she says bitterly, wiping at more tears.
“They want me to go to the college they’ve selected, the classes they’ve preapproved. They refused to entertain the idea of me joining the army at all, especially after Banner got shot.”
I freeze, not breathing, not moving, before grabbing her arm so she faces me. She looks alarmed when she takes in my expression. I mimic a gun firing.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Sorrow, I wasn’t thinking.
No, Banner’s fine. He was shot in the leg, and there is nothing wrong with him now, other than having a bad attitude and some pain when it’s cold out.
He was discharged on medical grounds, not so much because his leg has a metal bar in it and half a dozen pins, but because of the nerve damage.
Which explains why, for months, he was just permanently pissed off at the world.
Mom and Dad nearly lost their minds. They couldn’t lose their son, not after what happened with—shit, sorry, Sorrow. ”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to be feeling right now, but the overriding emotion is relief. I might not be Banner’s friend anymore, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to him.
“He really is okay, Sorrow. He works at Price Security now, and he loves it. The guys there are like his new squad. I know it’s not the same, but he’s happy.”
“Katy!”
I jolt, recognizing the voice even after all this time. I panic and jump to my feet. I shuffle backward to the door and pull it open. Katy stares at me in confusion as I close it behind me and duck out of view.
“Over here,” Katy yells. I stay where I am, crouched down pathetically on the floor below the window. What the hell is he doing here? Does he know I’m back? I feel my stomach churn as I fight the urge to throw up.
“What are you doing over here? This place gives me the fucking creeps.” Banner’s deep voice floats through the wall to me. Even though I know he would sooner set me on fire than hold me, there is a part of me that wants nothing more than to step into one of his hugs.
“If you hate it here so much, you shouldn’t have bought the house next door.”
What the fuck? Why the hell would he do that?
“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here, Katy.”
She sighs. “I’m not doing anything. I just wanted to get away from Mom and Dad for a while, and you weren’t home. They won’t listen to me, Banner. They don’t understand me at all. They don’t even try.”
I hear him sigh before he answers, and I picture him running his fingers through his hair. “Try and see it from their point of view, Katy cat. They’ve already lost one kid and very nearly lost a second. You’re their baby. It’s hard for them to let you go.”
“Well, they are going to have to, at some point.”
“Would it really be so hard to go to college? I’m not saying it has to be the one they want, but one of the Bannerman kids should go.”
“Would you have? Just to appease Mom and Dad?”
I don’t need to see him to know the answer to that one.
“No, but I’m not you.”
“And I’m not Alec,” she tells him softly.
“That’s not fair, Katy. You don’t understand what it’s like for them. Try to cut them some slack. They miss him, that’s all.”
“But I’m still here, Banner, and I don’t want to be the substitute kid that has to walk in her dead brother’s footsteps. I want to be me.”
“Nobody is saying you have to be Alec. We just want to keep you safe, that’s all.”
“But it’s impossible to keep me safe all the time, now, isn’t it?”
Maybe it’s because I can’t see her that I’m hyper-focused on her voice. There is something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Katy?” Banner questions. I guess it wasn’t just me who picked up on it.
“Forget it, Banner. I just want out of this godforsaken place where I will never be anything more than either the sister of a war hero or the dead football star.” I stand up when I hear her stomp away, only to freeze again when I hear a tortured curse come from Banner, who I assumed followed Katy.
“I miss you.”
I feel my palms start to sweat when I hear him speak. The urge to comfort the man, despite everything, makes me want to slap some sense into myself. Instead, I stay still and send up a silent prayer that he doesn’t see me.
“Fuck, Alec. In what world does it make sense for you to be taken and for me to survive?” He’s silent for a moment as if waiting for a reply we both know will never come.
“I’m sorry, bro. If I could swap with you, I would do it in a heartbeat.” I hear the gravel crunch under his feet as he walks away, finally leaving me in peace.
Well, fuck me sideways. I can’t stay here with Banner living next door. I need to get this place on the market as soon as possible.
Staying to clean it up is no longer an option because I won’t survive another run-in with Banner. I barely survived the last one.