Chapter 34 Before
Before
One by one, they’ve come, each of them waiting for their chance to peer and prod. One by one, and all of them have had their turn—-except for Liam, and so I’m not surprised when he creeps down the stairs with an expression like an apology.
“Hello,” he says, almost shyly. I saw his show, in that other life before this one, when I didn’t yet know how badly I could be hurt. He plays a boy with a crooked smile and a wounded soul. The girls go wild for him. They love the idea of a man who’s dangerous to everyone but them.
In real life, Liam is quiet. That swagger on the screen is as much a costume as the battered brown jacket.
“Hello,” I say, soft and sweet and a little bit afraid. Andrew wants me to be afraid of him. Liam would say he doesn’t want me afraid at all, but he’d be wrong.
He wants me scared so he can be the reason I’m not anymore.
I know his type. They’re easy, for a little while.
You let them rescue you, and it lasts right up until they figure out they can’t fix things when what’s broken is you.
Then they’ve sliced their gentle fingers on your sharp edges and you try to tell them that you warned them, but that never stops them feeling betrayed.
I only need Liam for a little while, though.
Come closer, I think.
“My name’s Liam,” he says, like I don’t know. “I’m not really supposed to be here, but I wanted to make sure—-do you need anything?”
“Your brother brought me food and water. But eventually, I’m going to need a bucket,” I say. He looks at me blankly, and I tip my head toward the toilet. He gets it then. His cheeks turn red.
“Oh. God, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one that broke the toilet. I wasn’t -really expecting to live long enough for it to be a problem.” I smile, careful not to show my teeth. They’re not looking so hot these days.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says. He rubs the back of his head. “I’m really, really sorry about all of this. We’re not bad people.”
“That might be more convincing if I wasn’t locked in a bunker,” I say, but I put the slightest hint of a laugh in it. The thing about a wounded bird is that it can’t be so badly hurt you have to put it out of its misery. Just hurt enough that it can’t fly away from you.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. He draws closer. “They’re just afraid.”
“Are you?” I ask him. “You have a lot to lose, too.”
“It doesn’t matter. There are plenty of things where there isn’t a right or wrong answer, but this isn’t one of them.”
“I don’t think your siblings agree.”
“It’s just Andrew,” he says, shaking his head. “And we’ve all got to make sure Andrew’s happy. We have to make sure he feels heard. Melinda’s freaked out, but she wouldn’t—-she’s not a bad person.”
I’m not so sure about that. “But Andrew is?”
He swallows. “Sometimes.”
“Like your father?” It’s a risky question. He looks away.
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said they were a lot alike,” he tells me. “But this . . .”
Andrew wouldn’t kidnap women and keep them prisoner. He’d just, maybe, not let them go after. I suppose it’s an upgrade. “Are you going to ask me about it?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I mean. If you want to tell me, I’ll listen. That’s the least I can do. But I don’t want . . . I know enough.” His hands close into fists, the tendons standing out along their backs.
“Did he hurt you, Liam?” I ask quietly.
“Sometimes,” he says again, and draws forward another step. I shift toward him. “Melinda and Andrew say he changed, after Mom died. He was different before. But I never really got to meet that version.”
Lizzie, where did you go?
There’s something broken in this boy. Broken, and beautiful. He’s like the delicate cup that’s dropped, and suddenly more precious for shattering.
I could have loved him in another life. I could have poured myself into him. He couldn’t contain me, of course, but I would seep so slowly out between those cracks that neither of us would notice until I was gone.
I could be mourned by him, and really, what love is greater than that?
Isn’t that what I wanted? Those nights in the shelter I lay on a stiff bed that didn’t belong to me, listening to some other girl weeping down the line. I didn’t want to die, or not just to die. I wanted to be mourned. To be precious at last because I was gone.
Then you’d see. Then you’d wish you’d answered when I called.
What an idiot I was. I’ve been dead all this while, and I doubt I’ve been more than a passing thought.
I can’t dwell in self--pity. And I can’t lose myself to those big blue eyes, those doll’s lashes, that sadness turned into a smile. I don’t need this boy to hold me. I need the sharp, broken edge of him—-and I’m sorry, Liam, but that means I’ve got to break you a bit more to get at it.
“What about Andrew?” I ask.
His head twitches. “I know Dad was tough on him, but it wasn’t as bad,” he says. “He was big. Dad couldn’t exactly pick on him like he could with me.”
“No. I mean,” I begin. I stop, as if this is difficult, as if I hesitate to even suggest it. “Has he ever hurt you, Liam?”
He looks quickly away, and that’s more of an answer than what he says next. “He tried to protect me.”
“What does that mean?” I press, cruel even as my voice is whisper soft, so honey sweet it nearly chokes me.
“I screwed up. A lot. Made Dad angry, and Andrew tried—-he was trying to teach me the only way he knew how,” he says. And then, defiantly, “He’s a good person.”
“Is he?” Still gentle, oh so gentle, because I can’t let him see I’m not the sort of damsel who gets rescued. He’s forgotten where he is—-there’s no princess in a tower here, only a witch cast in a pit.
“He is,” Liam insists.
“Then why am I here?” I ask helplessly. “You know what happened down here. And you’re still keeping me here, in the dark. Chained up like an animal. Worse than an animal. The only things you keep like this are the ones you’re about to slaughter.”
I let a hint of accusation into my voice, and turn my face away.
“We won’t—-he won’t—-” he stammers. He’s a better actor than a liar, and he isn’t a very good actor. His face flushes.
I turn my shoulder to him, blocking him out. “Just go,” I say.
“I don’t want to leave you down here.”
“But that’s what you’re doing. All of you.
” For the first few words, my misery is an act, and I think that I can hold it back, the true wretched horror of the thing.
I tell myself this is all a manipulation and I’m in control, but then my throat constricts and my body pinches inward and there is a howl in my chest waiting to loose.
Not the sort of tidy suffering that Liam will want to soothe, but a wounded, rageful thing.
A sound torn from deep inside the belly, a sound with talons, one to leave you bloody.
“I’m going to get you out,” Liam says as I bite down on my tongue to keep the horrible sound contained. “I promise.”
Oh, he means it, too, and tears flood my eyes—-tears of hope, maybe, but mostly anger. Where were you? Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU? I want to scream at him.
YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.
I can’t speak. I don’t dare turn to face him. I only hunch over on myself and hold back my howling, and after a minute, he finally leaves. He says something as he goes, but I don’t hear it. I wait until the door at the top of the stairs closes and then as long as I can bear, and then I scream.
I know he can’t hear me.
No one ever has.