Didi #3
He stares at me. “Just because you’re around people doesn’t mean you aren’t alone.”
I pause before I push the subject that’s been on my mind all week. “Can I ask you something, Tommy?”
“Shoot.”
“Who was that boy that died? What was he to you?” I’ve wondered over the past few days if Tommy knew him. Other than everyone so unsettled about it, it feels personal with Tommy and Remy.
He shrugs. “Just a guy I knew. He grew up in town.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Okay.” I pause for a moment. “What was he to Remy?”
He swallows a bob in his throat, that small emotional tug every time I bring Remy up. He moves his hand to my face, and I don’t recoil as he moves my hair back. “Didi, don’t worry about Remy or about what happened to Daniel, okay?”
I exhale slowly, but I’m curious. This all happened just before I arrived, and the emotional scars run so deep. No one talks about it, just haunted whispers in the bathroom and everyone looking over their shoulder. No one smiles here.
“Did they catch the person who did it?”
He pauses. “No.”
My lips part open as the pieces start to fit together. “But they believe Remy did it?”
He scrunches his eyebrows. “He was cleared from any guilt, and so was Talia. I don’t know who it was, but they are certain it wasn’t him.”
Talia? Who the hell is Talia?
He must see the confusion on my face. “Talia’s his older sister; Daniel was her boyfriend. They both attended Kinsmen University.”
My face drops. “Oh…”
“Yeah… Oh.”
“Does everyone think she did it?” Isn’t that how it goes? They always suspect the spouse.
He shakes his head. “No. No way. She wasn’t even there. Remy is the one who found him.”
I stare out at the silhouettes of people who walk by. No wonder they are all scared; there is a killer among them. “Do you think Remy did it?”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know Remy anymore. Or what he’s capable of.”
I stare at the ground and panic hits me as I think about my encounter with the masked man. I don’t tell Tommy what I saw in the library, even though I should.
Because, for whatever reason, it feels sacred.
“Do you still have my number?” he asks as if sensing the fear bubbling inside. No wonder he is so worried about me living out in the sticks.
“Yeah, but Tommy I don’t have a phone. I’d have to go to FreshMart.”
“Do you have a key?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Promise me you’ll do that?”
I wrap my hands around myself as a stiff wind pushes through me, goosebumps pebbling my flesh. “Should I be worried?”
Tommy crawls closer to me, running his hands over my bare skin. “You never have to be worried, Didi. I’ll take care of you.” He’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck. “Is this okay?”
My body relaxes into him, and this time, I don’t pull back. I lay on him, enjoying it. No one’s ever touched me so softly.
I pull my head up and look at him. “Tommy, what is Shadowface?”
A shadow crosses his features. “Who told you about him?”
“I heard girls talking about him in the bathroom. And Marty, the bus driver, mentioned him, too.”
His lips find my forehead, and he murmurs, “It’s just a stupid urban legend.”
Yeah, but are they connected? There is so much I don’t understand, and somehow, it’s like I’m the center of it all.
Tommy and I sit for a moment, and I’m acutely aware of the belt Mama has on me. Tommy’s hands begin to roam down my arms and around my belly.
My body tenses up, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.
“Tommy—please,” I breathe.
He doesn’t let up. “Why are you so skittish, firefly?”
My jaw ticks at how helpless I really am beneath him. He sighs, then relents as I slide out from under him. “Alright,” he says carefully, leaning his head back, his eyes flickering. “I won’t touch you, even though I really want to. Can I at least look at you?”
He’s not a bad one, and I want him to hug and touch me. “You are looking at me,” I remind him.
I’m drawn to his lips as he bites them, looking at me with an unfamiliar intensity.
“You know what I mean,” he whispers, and his breath tickles my cheek. My heart races and he moves his hands to my braids that are falling loose on each side of my head.
My hair is long, and the braids help keep it contained. Mama says having long hair is the only holy thing about me and cutting it would be sinful.
My breath lengthens as Tommy moves in again, his spicy, sweaty scent making me blush as he gently runs his fingers down my braid and pulls out the elastic at the bottom. Then he slowly starts to unravel it with his fingers.
Expertly, might I add, like he’s braided hair before.
“Tommy, what are you doing?” My chest rises and falls when he says he wanted to see me. This is not what I thought he meant.
“I want to see your hair.”
I place my hand on his as if that would stop him “It’s white…like my eyes and lashes.” I say it like a warning. “It’s ugly, Tommy.”
Other than my eyes, it’s my most distinguishable feature.
He runs his tongue along his bottom teeth. “Is that what you think about yourself? You don’t see what I see, firefly.”
He takes his time, then moves on to the next one.
“Tommy…” I squeak, desperately wanting him to stop.
He takes his time undoing the tight braid. He’s so soft, and he smells so good this close.
Once he’s done, he works my hair, running his fingers through the soft strands. I brush it every night, usually 100 brush strokes at least, and sometimes Mama does it for me. Perhaps if it wasn’t the color it was, I’d think it pretty.
His hands are warm as opposed to the crisp cool air around us, and he moves them behind my neck, caressing the soft spot beneath my ear.
I cower away from him, and he frowns.
“Diana, stop hiding from me.”
I take a deep breath as he pulls my hair over my shoulders, and it runs down my blouse. It’s long when I don’t braid it, and it easily flows over my shoulders and chest. He moves his hand to my cheek and my body tenses.
He’s just touching my hair, nothing more.
Mama would hate this. Mama would hurt me if she knew he was doing this.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Didi. Hasn’t anyone ever touched you before?”
“Not quite the way you’re touching me,” I breathe.
His kind eyes flash, his gaze lingers on my lips. “Didi…have you ever been kissed?”
My stomach backflips.
“Once,” I whisper. And that’s the reason Mama slapped the belt on to begin with.
He pauses for a second, keeping his hand around my neck. “Would you ever let me kiss you? I mean…not today or anything, but would you ever let me?”
I whip my hand to my mouth as shame boils up within.
Cursed. Wicked child.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I would let you kiss me.”
He keeps staring at my lips, and I stare at him. “You might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, firefly.”
The bell’s chime snaps us back to the present.
I can barely breathe, but I don’t dare move my hand, knowing he’d press those alluring lips to mine.
I bet he tastes as good as he smells, and that thought ignites a sinful heat between my legs—where only a metal lock, leather restraints, and an eternity of suffering await.
He pulls back and stares at me carefully, and I drop my hand.
And by some holy miracle, he grabs my hair and re-braids it, probably in a tighter braid than before.
“I have a little sister,” he admits. “She used to make me do this with her dolls. I got kind of good at it.”
I am deceased… Is Tommy real? When he’s done, he stares at me, and a moment passes between us.
So much is left unsaid, and I can barely breathe.
He takes that moment to steal a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Didi.”
He crawls away from me and disappears into the schoolyard beyond, into the crowd of students as if he didn’t just take my entire heart with him.
It takes at least two minutes to physically remove my hand from the spot where he kissed me. It’s another five minutes before my racing heart calms down, and by then, I realize I’m late for class.