Duplicity (12 page)

To that point, she’d tried everything. She’d told her father
stories about the things they studied. She told him she didn’t think Aiden
could handle the course load—what if he had a breakdown? She spun every story
she could think of, every reason she could grasp at to get her father to make
sure Aiden didn’t have Mr. Harper as a teacher.

Her father sighed, slumping in his chair a little, but he took a
deep breath and looked her right in the eyes. “I know you’re lying, Lilith
Elaine. What I don’t understand is why.” He leaned across the table, his hands
out, open, imploring. “What is the matter with you? I don’t understand what
gets in your head. You’re not on drugs, so what is it? Tell me.”

Lilith bit her lip, fear making her queasy. She felt light-headed.
What she wanted was to clamp her hands over her ears and just sing something, anything,
until the memories and emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her were
drowned out.

But .
 . .
Aiden. Aiden was more important.

She heard Dana’s voice pleading in her head. Malcolm hadn’t told.
Not even when they found out about the cutting. He hadn’t told.

They couldn’t tell.

But what if Mr. Harper did to Aiden what he’d done to the three of
them?

She couldn’t let it happen. She had to stop it.

She took a deep breath and told her father everything.

~0~

She’d been smug when Mr. Harper had selected her, Mal, and Dana to
be in his special club. They were good at history, the best, and fascinated
where most of their peers were bored.

 It had been fun at first, and they enjoyed making Mr. Harper
proud. He seemed so pleased with her, with them. He hugged them.
A lot.
He was always touching them: a pat on the head that
maybe lingered a beat longer than normal, his hand brushing down their sides to
get their attention, things like that.
Innocent really.

He would invite one or all of them to his house on weekends. He
had such a collection of awesome historical items, and he would lean in so
close, his arms around her as he let her hold a Civil War saber or an ages-old
piece of jewelry.

His hands would start out on her shoulder, but then they started to
roam.

At first, Lilith was sure she was mistaken. He made her
uncomfortable,
but
 
.
 . .

But she’d always been taught teachers were trustworthy. She’d been
taught to listen and respect her teachers. And her father liked Mr. Harper. He
often went on about what a great teacher, a great guy he was.

Mr. Harper was her friend.

Then the little touches went further.

She remembered the first time. She was alone in the classroom with
him after school. She’d answered a really hard worksheet perfectly, and he’d
patted her cheek, brushed his hands through her hair.

“You’re so smart.
Such a smart, beautiful girl.”
He’d captured her face between his hands.

And he’d kissed her.

And pulled her down onto his
lap as he sat in his chair.

And he’d touched her, shushing her mewls of protest. “You’re just
so pretty and good.
Such a good girl.”

~0~

It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Lilith stared at the
table the whole time, but it all came out.
Everything.

It had been like that all year long. It had been like that for Mal
and Dana too. But when they went on to eighth grade, Mr. Harper hadn’t invited
them back to his special club.

Lilith stared down at the table and told her father all these
things. She’d kept them locked up inside her for so long, once she started, she
couldn’t stop. She was shaking and so uncertain, but she couldn’t stop. She
wanted it all out of her.
All the ugliness and confusion.

Daddy would help. He would understand.

When she was done, there was only silence between them. She could
hear the ticking of the clock in the hall and music from Aiden’s room toward
the back of the house.

Her father sighed.

He didn’t believe her, she realized. “I’m telling the truth.
That’s the truth,” she whispered to the tabletop.

The noise of his chair scraping along the tile was horribly loud
in the quiet room. Her father didn’t say another word. He just walked away.

Now, her father wound his fingers around hers. Lilith closed her
eyes. She couldn’t react, not even enough to yank back her hand.

Her hand was still dwarfed in his even now. She used to like that
when she’d been a little girl. She used to be fascinated by how her hand
disappeared in his.

“I’m sorry, Lily-bean.” His voice was gruff with emotion. “I should
have listened. I’m so sorry.”

Lilith swallowed several times, trying to beat back the tightness
in her throat. That cold stone of mixed emotions at the center of her gut was
getting bigger. It was about to consume her.
Fear.
Shame.
Anger.
Regret.

She reached for something else, some other reality, but none would
come. She couldn’t think around the pain anymore.

“I’m here now, Lilith. I swear I’m here, and I’m listening.”

The last vestiges of control she had snapped, and Lilith began to
sob. Her ribs protested, but she didn’t care. The pain in her chest was nothing
compared to the agony that hit her at soul level, long ignored and covered up.
She sat up, wrapping her arms around her father and burying her head at his
neck.

She didn’t know if she believed him, but just then, it didn’t
matter. She was falling apart, and she needed something.
Anything.

She couldn’t pretend she was fine anymore. She couldn’t pretend
she didn’t need someone to hold her up.

Chapter 14

After her breakdown, Lilith slept for ten hours straight. She
slept like the dead without a single dream, and when she woke, it felt as
though something essential about her, the very blood in her veins, had changed.
The blank space she’d existed in the last couple of days was gone. The ability
she had to distract herself, to replace her reality with someone else’s had
disappeared. She was locked her head with the ghosts of her past, everything
laid bare, and she couldn’t escape, even when her eyes were closed.

She felt raw around the edges and empty in the middle, so why was
the weight on her shoulders so crushing? If she had nothing left on the inside,
why did it feel like she was made of lead?

Thoughts flew at her like cars at a cross-section of highways—east,
west, north,
south
, in and out of roundabouts and off
ramps. And she was just a human stuck in the middle without a way out.

Why did it feel like this? It had been almost ten years since the man
had put his hands on her. So what? He hadn’t hurt her. He’d been very tender.
Why was this bothering her now? Was it really that big a deal?

It was a big enough deal that Mal had maimed his own body trying
to grapple with it. It was a big enough deal that Dana had almost lost her mind
and her body to drugs.

Lilith didn’t know that she thought she’d dealt with it better.
She preferred not to deal with it at all. She’d done her best never to think of
the reason why her friends were hurting. She was fine. She paid for her home,
her food,
her
incidentals. She paid for Dana’s school.
She got by.

A knock on the door drew her attention, and she looked up to find
Mal in the doorway, his expression contrite. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked down at her hands.

“Are you mad at me?” Mal didn’t move from where he was.

Lilith thought about it. “No,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t
have any energy left to be mad. “I don’t understand why you called him,
though.”

“Because he’s your father.”
He
took a tentative step forward. “That’s what you do when something like this
happens. You call your family.”

“I have you and Dana.”

He shook his head. “We’re not enough.” He took another few steps.
“Your dad loves you.”

Lilith wasn’t in the mood for this lecture again. “I realize
that.”

He sat by her bed, just keeping her company. After a minute,
Lilith looked up, though she didn’t look at him. “He wants me to come home.”
She was going for nonchalant—
what a silly idea
—but there was still no
luster to her voice. “I mean he really wants me to come home.
To stay.
He wants me to live with him, Delilah, and Aiden.
Apparently she wants to help me with all my problems.” She huffed.

But rather than dismiss this as ludicrous as she’d expected, Mal
was nodding. “That’s good. That’s great news.”

Lilith’s head snapped up. “How is that good?” There was at least
some volume to her voice now. “What do you think’s changed?”

He blinked at her.

She shook her head. “I can’t go home. As it is, I don’t know what
I’m going to do. It’s going to be a few weeks before I can go back to work,
and—”

“You are not seriously thinking of going back to work.” Mal was
incredulous, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

“Nothing’s changed.” This was obvious to her. Why couldn’t he see
this? Her eyes followed him as he stood again and went to the end table where
Dana had left her makeup bag; she’d been trying to help Lilith brush out her
hair earlier. “Rent needs to get paid. Dana—”

Her words cut off with a wheeze when Mal held a mirror in front of
her face.

The woman in the mirror was an absolute mess, her features made
grotesque. One eye was swollen shut, her cheeks and chin were covered with
bruises and scrapes, and her face was swollen in places.

This was the face of a victim.

Lilith knocked his hand away, trying to get a handle on her
breathing.

“This is a wakeup call.”
Mal’s
voice was
quiet,
gentle,
his words slow as though he was
explaining something to a child so they might
understand.”Something
has to change, Lilith. We can’t go back to the way it was before.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “This didn’t happen at the club. That
had nothing to do with it. And Dana—”

“Forget about Dana. Jesus Christ, Lilith. You’re sitting here
covered in cuts and bruises. You have a fucking shunt in your chest. Stop.
Thinking.
About.
Dana.
Or me.
Or anyone but yourself!”

Lilith stared down at the blankets again. She wanted more than
anything to lash out, but her anger, her usual temper, was nowhere to be found.
Even that had abandoned her.

“Look. Something fucked up happened to us, okay? You need to accept
that so you can get past it, so you can live your life. You have to stop
running. You have to deal with this.”

“Awesome. Another fucking amateur therapist,” she
muttered,
her inflection acerbic. “Fuck you, Mal.” The words
were rote, lacking any sort of real fire. “I don’t have to do anything.”

 “There has to be an end.” His tone was soft, sad. “There has
to be a point where you start living your own life. This can’t be just one more
thing you sweep under the carpet. And maybe it’s time Dana and I make sure
we’re not your excuse anymore.”

She had nothing to say to that. There was a trepidation churning
inside her. What could she say? She Dana and Mal both to be able to stand
on their own,
but the reality of it made her anxious.

Would she have a purpose if Dana didn’t need her, if Mal didn’t
need her to take care of his sister?

“Don’t you want more, Lilith?” Mal was pleading with her now.

“I don’t want anything.”

~0~

At first, Lilith was sure she was dreaming again. She thought she
heard Trey’s voice.

He’d appeared in her dreams before. Sometimes he was just there.
He took her in his arms, and she felt warm for seconds before he was lost to
wakefulness. Other times his presence marked the beginning of a nightmare, and
he turned away from her, disgust evident on his handsome face.

“Is this Lilith Damon’s room?” she heard him ask.

“Damon? Who the hell are you?”

Mal and Trey did not belong in the same space.

Lilith’s eyes snapped open.

Sure enough, Mal was standing in a defensive stance blocking the
doorway, but she caught a glimpse Trey over his shoulder.

“
I’m .
 . . my name is
Oswald.
Trey.”

“
You’re
Trey?”

“I’m a friend. Please, I just heard. May I see her? Please?”

“I’ve heard of you but not as a friend.” Mal paused. “Are you a
client?”

Lilith closed her eyes
again,
dread
making pools of ice in her stomach.

“I’m a friend,” Trey said again.

“And you think she wants to see you?”

Trey had no answer for that. Of course he wouldn’t, not after the
last argument they’d had. It felt like it had been a year ago instead of just a
few days.

“Will you at least tell me if she’s okay?”

“Are you counting the days until she comes back to work?” Sarcasm
laced every word Mal spat at the other man.

Trey didn’t rise to the bait. “Please.”

“You think people get hospitalized when they’re okay?”

“Mal,” Lilith called, unable to listen him antagonize Trey
anymore. “Just let him in.”

Why not
, she thought. Wasn’t this what she wanted? This was her. No more
masks, no more stories. Let him deal with it. She was almost curious to see how
quickly he would run away.

Mal looked like he wanted to argue. He didn’t look pleased at all,
but he gave a short nod and stepped to the side.

Trey looked like hell. Worry was etched in every line of his face,
and when he got a good look at her, she watched as all color drained from his
cheeks. “Sweet Christ,” he muttered, crossing the room in three long strides. “
Lilith .
 . .” He reached out, as if to touch
her face, but Lilith flinched, looking down.

“My name is
Callicotte
,” she said by
means of greeting.

“What?”

“My name.
It’s Lilith Elaine
Callicotte
.”

“Okay.” The word was uncertain, but he didn’t argue as he sat down
at her bedside.

“Lilith?” Mal, still standing in the doorway with his arms
crossed, raised an eyebrow.

“Can you maybe give us a minute, Mal?” She had no idea what was
about to happen, but she was sure she didn’t want Mal there for any of it.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but again, he nodded.
“Yeah.
I’ll be close, okay?”

When he was gone, Trey reached for her hand, his movement slow,
his eyes on her, waiting for a sign she wasn’t comfortable with his touch. She
didn’t reach for him, but she didn’t shy away either. She watched their fingers
mesh and mingle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I didn’t know. I thought you were
just ignoring me again.” As he spoke, his thumb brushed over her fingers. It
felt nice, she reflected. “Then I heard around campus that Francis had been
stabbed by a girl he attacked.” He raised his free hand, touching the pads of
his fingers to her swollen cheek. “I’m glad you got him, Lilith. I’m sorry that
this happened to you, but I’m glad you got him.”

Lilith didn’t say anything to that. She watched their fingers, his
words mingling with memories of the last conversation they’d had. He wondered
if he still wanted the truth. “My mom died when I was young. I was raised by a
single father.”

Confusion flashed across his face, but it was fleeting. He brought
his free hand over their joined fingers. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

“When I was in seventh grade, my history teacher m—” She closed
her eyes, and took a deep breath before she could continue. “He molested me and
my two friends.”

She heard his breath stutter, but when he spoke, his tone was
steady. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Almost a minute of silence went by, but he didn’t say anything
else. No questions for once, she noted. “Are you disappointed? That’s pretty
textbook
, isn’t it?” She huffed. “I bet whatever you had in
your head
was
more exciting than that.”

More silence. Finally, Lilith had to look up.

If the ache in her chest, the ever-present one that occurred every
time she tried to breathe with broken ribs, had a face, this would be it. He
looked so pained. He breathed in and out, as if he was struggling to keep his
voice even and quiet. “Do you think seeing you like this is entertainment for
me?”

Lilith didn’t answer. She didn’t know what she wanted to hear. Maybe
she wanted to rekindle the anger she’d felt toward him just days ago.

Maybe she wanted someone to tell her this was what she
deserved—she was sure they were all thinking it.

He shifted, coming forward so he was leaning on the bar of her
bed. “
I .
 . . I care about you, Lilith.
If you want to know the truth, I’m so pissed I can hardly sit still right now.
I know Francis is still in this hospital. If there wasn’t a police officer
right outside his door, I couldn’t promise you I wouldn’t pull the plug on him
with a smile. I
hate
that this happened to you. I hate it.”

He cupped her hand in both of his, bringing her knuckles to his
lips and pressing a long kiss there.

“I don’t know how many other ways I can say this. No games, no
tricks, no ulterior motives. I was being honest with you before when I told you
I wanted to be your friend. And yes, maybe I was trying to dissect your
behavior. It’s part of who I am. But you seem to be under a misapprehension
about what I saw.

“This isn’t about what you do. How could it be? Lilith, I paid you
for sex. Do you think I would have done that if I thought you were going about
it in an unhealthy way?

“We’ve had this discussion already.” The expression on his face
was wistful. Lilith wondered if he felt like she did, if remembering their
conversations made him smile. There was a practiced air to his voice, as though
he’d rehearsed this speech before. “People love to judge what other people,
especially women, do with their bodies. That’s not me. You know that’s not me.
It’s possible to be careless with your body, of course, but you make careful
choices about who you’re with, and you use protection.”

“And I just got my ass kicked from here to next Tuesday,” she
finished in a bitter tone.

“Hey.” He tapped the underside of her chin until she looked up.
She refused at first, not wanting to see his pity or worse, his condemnation.
When she complied, though, what she saw eased a fraction of her irrational
guilt and self-loathing.