TEN
Aliya
PRESENT
My father was an author.
Maybe that’s why I inherited his way of dramatizing and exaggerating things.
About ten hours ago, I not only found out that the Legions had set fire to a van, but also that Milan’s motorcycle has exactly the same lettering as Lios.
That goddamn nickname that still mystifies me today.
Stitch.
I spent the whole night sleepless in front of my laptop researching what or who this “Stitch” is. But of course, I didn’t come up with anything other than stitch injuries, the Disney character and creation tools.
The fact that Lio and Milan of all people have something in common, which can’t possibly be a coincidence, is beyond terrifying.
Until dawn I convinced myself that my eyes had deceived me, that I’d only imagined it out of longing for Lio, but the truth cannot be denied.
I chew thoughtfully on the tip of my pencil and stare at the piece of paper in front of me.
Milan’s and Lio’s names are circled, while the nickname “Stitch” is a link between them.
While Mr. Nelson explains the biological factors that influence memory processes, I draw a mind map to sort my thoughts.
Milan Shane.
Son of Mr. Shane – founder of Shane Enterprises Holding Inc.
Notorious and involved in illegal affairs.
In his spare time, he sets fire to vans.
Lio.
I pause because I can’t think of anything.
The fact that I know nothing about him, even though he is such an important part of my life, hits me again.
Back then, when I spent so much time with him, I didn’t care about things like his surname, his age or his address. I lived in the here and now, unconcerned about whether this information could be helpful to me in the future.
After he disappeared last July, I had nothing but his number and first name in my hand. No matter how hard I tried to find a reason for his sudden disappearance, I never got very far with the information I had.
Nevertheless, I note down the things about him that I have observed and memorized during our time together.
Lio.
Most likely a college student (a year and a half ago).
Likes to drink coke.
He eats his fries with mayonnaise, he doesn’t like ketchup.
His favorite author is Jane Austen.
I draw a line between Milan’s and Lio’s names and write the word “motorcycle” on it. Probably the only thing they have in common.
“The hippocampus is a region in the brain that plays a key role in converting short-term memory into long-term memory, so …” Mr. Nelsons continues with his lesson.
But my thoughts still revolve around one thing.
Stitch.
And motorcycles.
I catch my breath as I form a theory in my head.
Slowly, I look around to see if anyone has noticed my sudden gasp, but the others seem to be either following the lesson or preoccupied with other things.
A motorcycle gang.
In Detroit, such a group is not unusual. The nickname “Stitch” could represent such an organization.
I can hardly believe that Lio is part of it, but I shouldn’t immediately dismiss this idea. The Lio I think I know wouldn’t harm a fly, but he wouldn’t start ignoring me overnight either. Still, the only way to hear his voice now is through the mailbox.
An illegal grouping would also explain why he was so reticent when I asked him about the word “Stitch” back then. And perhaps it would also explain his unexpected withdrawal from my life.
I write down my theory.
The only way to check if it’s true is Milan.
Whether I like it or not, in order to solve the mystery behind all this, I’ll have to stay close to him and keep poking my nose into his business, even though he’s threatened and advised me not to do it anymore.
I let my eyes glide over Milan Shane’s motorcycle.
Nothing conspicuous except the word “Stitch”.
I crouch down on my knees and run my fingers over the engraving.
It’s not a sticker. The word “Stitch” has been applied to the bike with a special paint job.
I sigh in disappointment, straighten up and stare at the motorcycle. All of this conjures up images in my head of the past, when Lio was still part of my life. In the park, he used to park his bike at the side while we spent hours on the bench in peaceful silence.
Lio was my safe place.
If all my efforts to find him again pay off and I actually see him one day, I just want to ask him one question.
Why did you drop me even though you knew exactly how much I need you?
When he suddenly left me back then, I only realized how dependent I am on him. Maybe that’s also the reason why he decided to abandon me.
But I’ve changed.
His loss destroyed me for the first few weeks, but I’ve learned to live without him.
I now know that I’m not dependent on him anymore.
Still, there are unanswered questions buzzing around in my head that only he can answer.
That’s why I have to find him.
“Cole Logans cheated on Michelle with his ex-girlfriend. Then she slept with his brother. Like a soap opera, isn’t it?”
Once again, Adena is telling me stories about the students at the SVH. She’s the reason the rumors spread so fast around here.
Adena Easton – probably the only one who doesn’t shy away from talking to me.
We’re not friends because our relationship consists of me letting her copy my homework and doing the group work with her alone, while she tells me about the school gossip and only comes to see me when she’s bored.
Well, I got the short end of the stick.
But people who know what true loneliness feels like accept everything. Because abandoned people know what it’s like when the silence is so loud that it starts to tear you apart from the inside.
She sits on the windowsill in the workroom and watches out of the open window for new gossip. I’m fully occupied carving a new figure while the wood shavings pile up next to me.
A tulip to keep my lotus flower company.
I tune out Adena’s chatter, I’m not interested in it anyway.
But then she manages to catch my attention. “The basketball team is outside. The Legions are there too!”
The Legions.
Goosebumps run through my body as I think of Milan’s hand on my back. The way he made me bend over to get my phone. The fact that they set fire to a van and got away.
The event was a few days ago now, but I still can’t stop thinking about that horrible incident.
“Oh no, this Lucia girl is there too. I really don’t know why everyone finds her so hot. Is it her D-cup?” Adena complains about the exchange student. “Not only has she slept with Shane, but she’s also slept with Reynolds several times! All that’s missing is her jumping in bed with Shin Masuda.”
I push my chair back and stand up to look out of the window too.
From here I can see the basketball court, the boys playfully throwing the ball and pushing each other.
Adena is right.
Lucia is there, chatting with a group of girls. She’s laughing unbearably loud.
I let my gaze wander over the square and stop when I catch sight of Milan. His dark hair is slightly disheveled, but still looking good. He’s wearing his school uniform, but has taken off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt just enough to show his toned chest. His broad shoulders and muscular forearms are emphasized as he casually dribbles the ball and passes to Shin.
“Don’t you agree with me?”
Adena snaps me out of my thoughts and looks at me with her caramel brown eyes, the same color as her shoulder-length hair.
“Yes, I do.”
I don’t know what this is about, but I don’t want to get into an argument with her.
“I hope she’s not invited to Shane’s pool party.”
The mention of a party thrown by Milan piques my interest. “A pool party?”
“Yes, the party after next week. It’s very rare that Milan Shane throws a party at his house, so it’s definitely going to be an annual highlight. Everyone wants to know what kind of castle the younger heir to Shane Enterprises Inc. lives in.”
A party at his house? My mind is racing.
This is a perfect opportunity to stake out his house for more information regarding the nickname “Stitch.” And if Milan and Lio know each other, the chances of him coming to the party are also very high.
I could see Lio again.
“Do you think an apple green bikini would be too bright?”
“Can I come with you?”
Adena isn’t the only one surprised by my question, because I’m just as shocked by the fact that I’d voluntarily want to go to a house party.
“You want to come with me? Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I say, trying to sound more convinced than I feel. “I’ve always wondered what his home looks like.”
“I don’t know. You don’t like parties.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she finds the thought of showing up at a party with me humiliating.
“Come on. We’re talking about Milan Shane. That’s where everyone wants to go!”
Normally, I’d rather die than set foot in his house, but my desperation to see Lio again overpowers any reservations I have about social gatherings.
“I didn’t realize you were interested in him.”
God, Adena, can’t you just agree?
“He’s one of the most desired and hottest guys in school,” I recite what I hear every day in the girls’ restroom. “I’d have to be an idiot if I didn’t have a thing for him.”
“True, he’s pretty hot,” she concedes. “And his reputation only makes him more attractive, doesn’t it?”
“Definitely.” I put on a forced smile as I try to shake off the memory of my encounter with Milan. Oh yes, his reputation.
My gaze wanders back out of the window to the basketball court where Damian and John McKinney are having a duel.
“So, are you taking me with you?”
Adena looks at her phone and suddenly seems distracted. “Oh, I forgot that I have to meet someone,” she says, scrolling through her messages. “Can we talk about it later? I’m already late.”
Before I can protest, she’s already out the door and disappearing down the hall.
She doesn’t want to take me with her.
I have to go to this fucking party.
This might be my only chance to find Lio.
As if Milan has felt my gaze on him, he looks up and meets my eyes. He smirks, a cheeky expression flitting across his features as he lifts his chin provocatively.
I grind my teeth. My temper boils up as I think about the video he deleted and how much it would’ve helped me destroy him and his friends. I want to take him down and expose him for what he really is, but I have to pull myself together.
He’s my only clue in the search for Lio.
I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, raise my head defiantly and mirror his arrogant look. Milan seems to be amused by me, because his grin widens even more. His dark eyes sparkle with a kind of challenge.
It’s as if he’s asking me to take the plunge, to step out of my comfort zone and challenge him.
Well, two can play that game.
I snort and give him my middle finger, making sure he sees every moment of my rude gesture.
His expression remains unchanged as I retreat and turn back to my wooden tulip sculpture.
I’m so engrossed in my carving that I only notice now that the lunch break is ending and the bell is ringing to announce the next lesson.
But I’m covered in sawdust and wood shavings. I don’t have to worry about my school performance. That’s why I decide to skip math class.
I start to tidy up my woodworking materials and prepare to spend the lesson in the isolation of the school library.
A throat clearing behind me catches my attention.
Slowly, I straighten up and turn around. Milan is standing a few meters away, his hands in the pockets of his uniform.
“I see you’re skipping class,” he remarks, taking a step toward me.
Why is he here?
Is he going to make short work of me because I showed him my middle finger?
I glance at the door, hoping to disappear quickly. But Milan seems to have other plans for me.
“Not so fast.” He blocks my escape route and towers over me with his height. The gaze of his dark eyes bores into mine, he studies my face.
My palms get sweaty as I clench them together. “What do you want from me?”
“I just want to have a chat with you,” he scoffs. “A private conversation.”
I draw my eyebrows together. “If it’s about the incident, I haven’t told anyone about it and I don’t intend to.”
Without evidence, no one would believe me anyway.
“How generous of you. But that’s not why I’m here.”
If he’s not here to threaten me again, then why?
Milan’s gaze wanders to the table where my woodworking tools are spread out. His lips curl as his fingers wrap around the handle of the small carving knife and he turns it in his hand to examine the sharp blade.
I tense up and my heart starts to beat faster.
“What were you doing at my bike?” His voice is dripping with an incredible coldness that almost makes me shiver.
It’s been two days since I looked at his motorcycle to gather information about the nickname “Stitch”. How did he find out and why is he only confronting me now?
I gulp, going through all my excuses in a matter of seconds, but none of them sound remotely credible.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I decide on the safest option.
“Do you really think I’m falling for it?” he jeers. “I know it was you. You snuck around my bike, didn’t you? What did you do? Answer.”
Eyes on the knife in his hand, I step back nervously. His jaw is rigid, his muscles clearly visible under his taut skin.
He is furious.
“I asked you a question.” The knife rests loosely in his hand and his black eyes burn into mine.
To avoid making myself look even more ridiculous, I keep my voice down, but he doesn’t like it.
“Let’s see how long you can stay quiet.”
Before I can say anything back, he grabs me and shoves me hard against the table. My back hits the hard edge and a sharp pain runs through my body. With his free hand, he props himself up on the table to my left. With one thrust, he rams the slashing knife into the wooden surface to my right.
I gasp for air and place my hands on his chest to push him away from me.
“Uh-Uh.” He grabs my wrists and pushes them down to lean closer to me. His face is only a few centimeters away from mine. He smells faintly of cigarettes and some kind of spicy cologne, a scent that makes me dizzy.
My cheeks start to tingle and I can feel the heat slowly spreading across my face.
“Well, shall we try again?” he asks. “What were you doing at my bike?”
His gaze is suffused with an underlying intensity. Sharp contours, penetrating eyes and a dark radiance that literally captures me.
“Let go of me right now.”
The right corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Let go? Make me.”
I squint my eyes into slits and lift my knee to hit the weak spot between his legs. But he sees it coming and takes a step closer, forcing my raised knee down.
His leg is now between mine as he presses me harder against the edge of the table and I let out a breath. An electrifying energy surges through my body.
Fucking bastard.
“Such a bad girl. That wasn’t nice.”
“What do you want from me? I was just minding my own business, and you come and harass me!”
“Harassing? You call that harassing , sweetheart?” He laughs and grabs me tighter by the wrists, his fingers digging into my flesh. “You were the one sneaking around my bike. You were the one sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Three times. That’s harassment .”
“I just wanted to …” I start, but he interrupts me with a cold look.
He pulls the knife out of the wood and holds it menacingly close to my face.
“What are you up to, huh?”
I feel the cold metal brush my chin and send a shiver down my spine. But at the same time, it feels like an invisible flame that seems to be burning me up slowly but surely. And the strangest thing is that, despite my contempt for him, I long to get burned.
I think I’ve lost my mind.
“Are you going to talk now?” He lowers the knife until the tip is pressed against the base of my throat. “Or do I have to make you?”
I feel my blood boil as the blade of the knife descends further. There’s no real danger – at least for now – but the feeling is so strange that it makes my spine tingle.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of answering and keep quiet.
When he realizes that he won’t get an answer from me with questions, Milan’s expression darkens. He eyes my T-shirt for a moment before a sly smile spreads across his face.
With one swift movement, he plunges the knife into the fabric and the sharp blade slices through it. The sound of the tearing fabric startles me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
My T-shirt, which I always wear when I’m working on my sculpture, is now split in two.
A hot flush of shame floods through me as the cut fabric slides off my shoulders and my skin is exposed to the cool air. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re doing all this just to get my attention.”
His gaze sweeps over my body and he takes in my newly exposed skin. His gaze lingers on my white bra, and he runs his tongue over his teeth.
The gesture sends shivers down my inner walls.
I hate him.
God, I hate this effect he’s causing in my body.
And I hate myself for allowing it, even though I know he’ll drag me to my doom.
The humiliation of being exposed like this makes my eyes burn. I grit my teeth, determined not to show any more weakness, but the feeling almost makes me choke.
He reaches out with the knife and runs his fingers lightly over my stomach. The touch is almost teasing, his fingertips tracing a pattern over my skin. I ignore the rising tingle in my core.
“Get your dirty hands off me, Shane.”
He pulls his hand back. “Oh, you can talk after all. Then how about telling me what you’re plotting?”
“Nothing!”
“I don’t believe you.”
He waits for me to tell him what I was doing at his bike, but my lips remain sealed.
“As you wish.”
Suddenly, I pant as I feel the cold metal on my bare thigh.
“You’re telling me to get my filthy hands off you? But your body speaks a different language, sweetheart.”
He presses the flat side of the blade against the inside of my thigh and pushes it up, his thumb brushing over my skin at the same time. “Or do you like this more?”
My muscles tense, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through me.
He laughs when he notices me trembling. “See?”
“S-stop it.”
“If I put my hand up your skirt now …” With a swift movement, Milan slides the blade under my skirt and draws a line along my underpants. “How wet would I find you then, huh?”
My breath catches in my throat. I scowl at him and try to free my wrists, but he tightens his grip, trapping me in place.
“Bone dry.”
My words elicit a dark laugh from him. “Is that so? I think I need to test this.”
The flutter spreads through my chest and a tingle runs over my whole body as a wave of pleasure builds inside me. His leg, still pressing into my middle, makes it even harder for me to breathe.
“No! Stop!”
His hand with the knife pauses and with a lustful gleam in his eye, he looks up at me. “Are you going to answer my question?”
I want to push him away, run far away and never come back. But the warmth of his body, so close to mine, makes me melt into him, my resistance weakening by the second. It is as if he has cast a kind of spell over me.
The room is silent, the only sound coming from our mingled breaths.
When I don’t give a satisfactory answer, his hand moves further up.
“I wanted to … scratch your bike. Just like I scratched your car. Because you destroyed my bracelet and deleted the video. I wanted to get back at you!” The lie rolls off my lips as if memorized.
His half-hearted smile gradually fades. For a moment, he just stares at me, his eyes dark and troubled.
The current of arousal pulsing through my body breaks off abruptly as he lets go of me and pulls back with a jerk.
He throws the blade onto the table behind me, while I lean dazedly against the edge, uncomprehending of what’s just happened.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest and the unfulfilling rush of my body slowly subsides.
“The next time I see you at my things, you won’t get off so easily.” His words come out with a certain urgency.
Although he’s calm, I can sense an underlying tension in his posture, a kind of restless energy emanating from him.
I stare after him for a few more seconds until I realize what’s just happened.
Furious, I claw my fingernails into my trembling thighs.
This psychopath has touched me, and I actually liked it.
A dull ache jolts through me, sending shame coursing through my body like a burning poison.
My face glows as embarrassment hotly grips the back of my neck, while a heavy, deeply unsatisfied feeling nags at my stomach.
The fact that he’s left me aroused and with my upper body exposed shames me even more than the knowledge that I’ve given in to his charms and he’s managed to awaken the feeling of lust in me.
And that with a fucking knife.