Chapter Seven
My eyes fall to the hallway, a surprised gasp tearing from me as I take in the dried blood and bloody towels.
The house wouldn’t let them in to clean up. I didn’t put it together, but seeing the crime scene still here after all this time, I know it’s true. How did the police investigate a murder if they couldn’t gain access to the scene, though?
I move forward robotically, my eyes drifting to the wall I collapsed against. When…
it…happened, all I cared about was getting home.
I thought I’d survived the worst, but the hits just kept on coming.
Maybe I should have fought harder. Not during the rape—I was too drugged to do much of anything but survive.
But after, with regard to the case, maybe I should have pleaded not guilty.
Perhaps, I’d have even won. But all I could think about was getting away from Austin and Andy—one of whom raped me—and Dale—the man who framed me.
I wasn’t safe here, and I had nowhere else to go.
You know things are bad when prison is a safer option than home.
I slide down in the same spot and picture myself all those years ago, broken and terrified, hurt and bleeding.
Instead of being saved after my torment, I was violated again, just in a different way.
I harden my heart, or the feeling of helplessness will cripple me.
I came back here to prove everyone wrong.
It sounds fucking cliché, I know. But I don’t care because I also came back to prove them right.
I can be every bit as bad as they think me to be.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t thrive and rub their faces in it too.
Perhaps I’m supposed to be the bigger person here, but I have no interest in turning the other cheek or offering my token forgiveness.
Fuck that and fuck them. One thing I learned away from here, surrounded by women who fought tooth and nail for everything—whether they were right or wrong—is that I can hold a grudge.
And I’m petty as fuck when the need arises.
Something bangs in the kitchen, and I frown.
I get to my feet slowly and head that way, grimacing when the smell hits me.
I eye the fridge, wondering if the smell is coming from in there.
I’m not brave enough to open it and find out.
I’m pretty sure, after all this time, that whatever is in there would likely eat me, as opposed to the other way around.
I look around, confused. Suddenly, all of the cupboard doors open, and the lights, which I hadn’t turned on, flicker.
“So it wasn’t a dream. This is real. You’re real?” I ask the house, whose response is to launch a mug at my head. I duck at the last second and gasp when it shatters against the wall.
“What the hell? Stop that.”
The top drawer slides open before a fork flies my way, followed by a spoon. I duck and hide, noticing belatedly that the house doesn’t throw any knives at me.
“At least I know you’re not trying to kill me,” I mutter, standing up. “I’m sorry, okay?”
The spoon that flies through the air hovers in front of my face for a second before it tilts and smacks me on the forehead.
“I said I was sorry!” I yell, feeling tears blur my eyes. Again, I know what I’m feeling isn’t just my emotions. The weight of it, though, is almost too much to bear.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I move to the wall and press my forehead against it. “I didn’t have a choice. I was hurt and scared. I’m sorry I left you alone with him. I was weak, and I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t have survived. But I swear I won’t leave you again.”
The house is quiet as I wait for some kind of response, but I get nothing. At least I don’t get smacked in the head with a spoon again. Whatever emotions I sensed are pulled back, but I can still feel the house as a soft hum in my veins.
It sounds stupid, but I have a sinking feeling I’m going to need to prove myself to the house. It’s clear that I’m not the only one who suffered all these years.
Walking over to the broken mug, I pick up the sharp shards before carrying them to the trash. As soon as I lift the lid, I gag. Well, at least I know where the smell is coming from. Jesus.
I move to the windows to open them, but they refuse. “The only way I’m going to be able to get rid of this smell is if you let some air in.”
After a moment of hesitation, one of the windows opens, followed by another and another until all the windows are flung wide.
“Thank you. Now, my friend has gone to get some cleaning supplies. We’ll have you spick and span before you know it.”
The house doesn’t reply, and I huff out a laugh because I’m talking to a damn house. What’s it gonna do, nod its head?
I take out the trash first, then find some black sacks and empty both the fridge and the freezer. I have to tie a kitchen towel around my face to stop myself from gagging, but somehow I manage. By the time I’m done, I hear a car pulling up the driveway.
I head to the door and feel a slight wave of panic ripple through the house. I check the spy hole and blow out a relieved sigh. “It’s just Jenny. She’s got the cleaning supplies. Be nice. She’s the reason I’m here now.”
The door clicks open and swings wide as Jen hurries up the steps, her arms full of products, which she dumps on me. She jogs back to her car, in six-inch heels, making it look effortless.
“I pretty much cleared out the cleaning aisle of that mom-and-pop store. And then I found a little coffee shop that hopefully tastes as good as it smells. I was a little worried for a minute because the place was dead, but then the whole town was. People must be at work.” She shrugs as she carries in a couple of drinks in one hand and a brown sack in the other.
I wait for her to pass before following her into the kitchen.
“You know what? The food will keep. We’re going to need to clean in here first before I even think about exposing the food in that bag to whatever that smell is.”
A surprised bark of laughter escapes me, making her grin. Only I can’t stop the laughter, though it sounds manic to my ears. Before you know it, I’m sobbing in the arms of the woman who stood by me from the beginning of all this mess.
“I’ve got you, Calliope. Let it out, sweetheart.”
I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried. By the time I cry myself out, my eyes feel swollen, and my throat is raw. When I pull back, Jen’s eyes are red too, and that makes me feel emotional all over again. I take a few deep breaths and finally get myself under control. “I’m sorry.”
“I think that was a long time coming.”
“I thought I was over all of this shit. I promised myself I wouldn’t be weak anymore, but being back here in this damn place brought everything rushing back again.”
“Dealing with things and moving on are all good until you step back into the scene of the crime. This would have hurt if it had been months, years, or decades. If two things in this world refuse to be confined to a timeline, it’s trauma and grief.”
I nod. She’s right, but I still feel frustrated with myself.
“If it had been anyone else having this reaction after what they had been through, what would you have said to them? Would you have thought they were weak?”
“No, of course not.”
“So why are you holding yourself to a higher standard? That young girl who still lives inside you has been through enough without you punishing her too.”
“It’s annoying when you make this much sense.”
“Gives you a new appreciation for my husband, doesn’t it?”
I chuckle, feeling wrung out but also lighter than before. I guess crying is cathartic after all.
“So while we clean, I want you to give me the skinny on Laurel and Hardy.”
“Who?”
“God, you make me feel old,” she mutters, grabbing a cleaning cloth and a bottle of disinfectant from the haul I carried in. “Dale and Porter. I wasn’t expecting that level of anger.”
When I don’t answer, she turns back to me. “But you were, clearly.”
I grab a cleaning cloth before heading to the fridge. “In Dale’s eyes, I killed my father. He has every right to be angry.”
Before I can open the fridge, she tugs my arm with her surprisingly firm grip and spins me around. “That’s the first time you’ve admitted it out loud. I fucking knew it. I always knew it, and yet part of me hoped I was wrong.”
“What are you…” I drift off when I realize what I said about Dale.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“The fuck it doesn’t. You were innocent. I could have—”
“Done nothing. It was orchestrated this way. Nothing you could have said or done would have changed anything. Why do you think I was turned down for parole, not once but twice? My father had connections everywhere. My guess is Porter tried to pick up where my father left off, but he’s not quite as formidable as he was. ”
“You never met him before?”
“I’ve never met Porter before today,” I reply, mixing the truth with a lie.
“This Dale situation concerns me. He was the prosecution’s star witness. If he lied about you being the killer, then he must be worried about you fingering him now.”
“He should be worried. Because there were three of us there that day. One of us died, one went to prison, and the other one pulled the trigger.”
Idon’t think I’ve ever shocked anyone into silence before. After my revelation, Jenny walked off and started cleaning furiously, like a madwoman. By the time she was done, my house sparkled like new, and I had barely worked up a sweat.
“Jen—”
She holds up her hand. “That insidious madman stole fifteen years of your life. You were locked behind bars while he lived and breathed the air on your fucking ranch. How are you not livid?”
“I had fifteen years to come to terms with it.” I blow out a lazy breath, moving closer to her. “I was safer for those fifteen years behind bars with strangers than I ever was in this place. Dale doesn’t realize it yet, but he did me a favor.”
“Do you know how fucking insane that sounds?”
“Yes. I do.”
She groans, dipping her head in defeat. “He’s going to come after you, I just know it. And because he’s nothing better than pond scum, he’s going to try and twist this to make you the bad guy again, isn’t he?”
“Probably. But I’m not sixteen anymore, Jenny.”
“I know, but being on guard twenty-four-seven will be exhausting. I don’t want that for you…” Her voice trails off as her eyes widen. “That’s why you had me set up all of those interviews. You’re going to hire protection, even though you said you didn’t want a team of people hovering around.”
I nod. “I am, and it’s true. I can handle having one person looking out for me.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
“Kind of. But it’s going to be someone of my choosing. Someone I know, my father—I mean, Dale and Porter, won’t be able to pay off, frighten away, or manipulate.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
If she had any idea what I truly had planned, she’d lose her ever-loving mind. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.
“So do I, Jen. So do I.”