Chapter 28 Annalise
Chapter twenty-eight
Annalise
House locked up and comfortable clothes on, Aiden and I sit down to go over everything we’ve learned since we've been in Seabrim before making a plan for tomorrow.
“We know we need to get into his office in the city.”
He nods. “We have the address now,” thanks to the business card Aiden got from Greg, “but this is definitely the part of our test where we’ll have to find a way past security to get up to the eighth floor.”
“I might have an idea to get the guard out of the way, but then we need to find a way to get into his office,” I say.
“I couldn’t find a badge or key, but I can pick the lock as long as it’s a standard doorhandle lock. If it’s a scanner or anything tech-based, we’re screwed.”
“Okay,” I sigh as I try to put it all together. “So, we need to get to the city early in the morning before the traffic kicks up. We need as much time as we can get to find the drive, do the drop, and get back to Scion.”
“Yeah. So, what’s this plan of yours?”
I fill him in on the details, and once we’ve worked out some backup plans, just in case, we head to bed.
When the lights turn out, I feel like I can finally relax, but then Aiden breaks the silence.
“Hey, Ana?”
“Yeah, Ace?”
“What made you concerned about Greg earlier? You never told me.”
How did I not think that he might ask about that later? If I tell him the truth, it will open up too many questions about me. As much as this weekend has felt so real, I can’t forget that he’s still Lucas’s best friend, and Lucas will use anything to torture me that he can.
“Oh, it was some weird comment about Greg never bringing work home with him. The way she said it left a weird taste in my mouth is all,” I’m afraid he’ll know I’m lying.
“Such strong instincts. I hope for her sake, she’s okay.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say and curl up in the blankets a little tighter.
I wake with a jolt, gasping for air. It takes a whole minute for me to realize Aiden isn’t in bed next to me anymore, and I should be relieved he isn’t here to witness another nightmare, but a part of me—one I don’t want to listen to—wishes he was.
Wishes he would pull me close and make it all fade away.
Tonight it wasn’t my last night at my dad's like it so often is. Tonight, it was an older memory from when I was thirteen or fourteen.
Flashback.
Hunched over the breakfast bar, sweating as I work to finish my end-of-year posterboard for my history presentation tomorrow, I’m wearing shorts and a tank top, but they’re still too hot for this heat wave we’re going through.
I hear my dad's boots drag across the hardwood floors before I see him stumble into the open kitchen.
“You ruined everything!” His voice slurs, thick and venomous. “It’s all your fault she’s gone! She never even wanted you, but I wouldn’t let her get an abortion. I thought you were going to make us even happier. But you just ruined everything, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer.
“I asked you a question!” he shouts.
My heart pounds in my throat, and before I can react, he’s already at the stove, yanking the pot of boiling water off the burner and throwing it in my direction.
I try to move, but it’s too late. The scalding water and noodles splash across the counter, some landing on me—burning, searing, too hot for my bare skin.
I scream, the pain shooting through me like fire, but that only makes him smile before his anger sets back in.
“You’ve always been too much to handle,” he sneers, looming over me. “Chasing that neighbor boy around. Coming home dirty. She didn’t even want to go out in public with a little slut like you! You just couldn’t behave right for one gods damn minute!”
“Matt is my friend, Daddy! We—”
I try to explain, but he cuts me off, his face twisting with rage. “Don’t you talk back to me!”
Slap.
My cheek stings, my head whipping to the side.
“She’s getting remarried, you know that?” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “She wants to start a new family. Have a daughter who won’t disgust and embarrass her.”
He grabs my arms, tightening his grip until my bones crack, and shoves me against the wall with all of his weight.
“Look at you. Look what you’ve made me do!” He slams my body into the wall again, his voice rising with fury. “Clean it up, and then you can go to bed hungry.”
He’s slamming the front door in the next second, and then I hear his truck engine start up and him peel out of the driveway.
Sinking to the floor, the hot noodles still stick to my skin, and the smell of burnt skin clogs my nose.
I call out for Matt. He’d help, I know he will.
But he can’t hear me from here, and there’s no way I can make it to my room, where our windows face each other, to try again.
My body hurts like no pain I’ve felt before; every move I make sends a painful reminder of what just happened.
I need to cool it down. I need to numb the pain. I need to get to the freezer.
With trembling hands, I drag myself toward it with my arm that isn’t broken.
The cold air hits me in sharp bursts as I pull out every bag of frozen vegetables I can find. I pack them against my burns, my skin still on fire beneath the cold. It’s not enough, but it dulls the pain, making it bearable.
I need to clean up.
I’m positive he’s headed to the bar, which means I have a few hours until he comes back. But if everything isn’t clean and if I’m not locked in my room by the time he gets home, this will seem like a walk in the park.
I wipe my tears away, forcing myself to focus.
The counter. The floor. Every last noodle.
I crawl back to the mess and start to wipe the boiling water from the counter, doing my best to ignore the way my burns feel like they’re still cooking under the ice.
My posterboard is soaked, the ink from each word I’ve written now bleeds together into black splotches, but I don’t have the energy to care.
I’m left alone with my pain, trying to make everything look perfect for when he gets home.
It’s the only way to survive.
Glancing at the clock, it’s 4:07am; almost two hours before we planned to get up.
My throat is dry, remnants of the nightmare still making my skin prickle, so I force myself up to get some water and see if I can find Aiden.
The living room is dark, except for the time lit up on the microwave. I walk quietly, feeling on edge as my mind races with possibilities and dread. What if Greg caught on that we aren’t who we are pretending to be? What if Aiden decided to leave me and go finish the mission solo?
As I pull a glass from the cupboard, I catch the faint lantern light out the window.
There he is, at the edge of the water with the moonlight casting his shadow long across the sand. Aiden. He’s just standing there, staring out at the waves, his back to me. I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to. His posture says everything. Something’s wrong.
Water in hand, I walk barefoot down to him, silently hoping this beach isn’t home to too many crabs at night.
“Aiden?” I call, my voice still rough, “What are you doing out here?”
He turns his head slightly, barely far enough for me to see the sharp line of his jaw, but not enough to read his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “I needed some air.”
I study him for a moment, the cold wind stinging my skin as I move closer. Something’s off. Something in his tone, in the way he stands, distant and still.
“You thinking about the mission?”
He doesn't answer right away, and the pause stretches too long. Then, finally, he nods. “Yeah. It's important. That’s all.”
“Okay, do you need anything? I have some water if you want it?”
He finally glances back at me, “No thanks, but you should get inside. It’s cold out here, and you don’t have a sweatshirt on.”
“Alright. If you’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll be back inside in a little bit. Try to get some more sleep. We have a big day ahead of us.”