The Darkness of Perfection (11 page)

He questioned me like he was conducting a medical exam and I shook my head. “My head hurts and my stomach is still cramping, but that’s all,” I responded quietly.

He nodded. “That’s to be expected. It should pass after you have some food in your stomach. I’ll keep everything light for today and you should be feeling one hundred percent by tomorrow.” He led me to the bathroom, keeping a steady hand on me so I didn’t stumble or fall, but stopped at the bathroom door.

“I’m going to let you have privacy. Everything you need should be in the shower. Don’t make it too hot or take too long; you’re still weak and I don’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

I turned to him. I had so many questions that needed answers, the biggest one being “why am I here?”

followed closely by “when can I go home?” He must have seen it in my expression, because he shook his head.

“Take your shower and we’ll talk after.” He pointed to the large window in the bathroom. “By the way, the window is secured so you can’t open it. I’ll be right outside the door so I’ll hear if you try anything foolish and trust me, you won’t like the consequences if you do,” he warned sharply.

He closed the door, leaving me standing and staring at it, his words sinking in. Well, I was able to answer one of my own questions.

I wasn’t going home, mostly likely … ever.

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. I wasn’t dying, but since stepping into the shower I’d been bombarded with flashes of memories long forgotten. The problem was, those memories had been buried for so long they were out of context and the emotion or meaning behind them was lost. What good did it do if they couldn’t help me now?

Running into Nicholas this summer unlocked those memories even though I hadn’t known it was him.

How could I? The last time I’d seen him I was six and he was … hell, I didn’t even know how old he was at the time, only that he was my senior by a few years.

He was nothing like the boy in my head; even his eyes were different. In the few minutes I’d spent with him, I’d seen no kindness or compassion. When he asked how I was feeling it was with clinical detachment. He was cold and harsh with his mother when he spoke and had no apology for his actions.

The Nicky I knew would have had remorse.

I was dimly aware of the water and the feel of it running down my body. I’d already washed up, yet I made no attempt to get out. I was afraid to turn off the water because it meant getting out of the shower. Leaving the shower meant leaving the bathroom, and leaving the bathroom meant facing this new Nicholas.

I wasn’t ready to face whatever was coming, so like a coward I was hiding in the shower until I couldn’t hide any longer. I’d adjusted the hot water, but I couldn’t seem to get warm, even though the room was now full of steam. Was this another side effect from whatever drugs he gave me, or more likely from the cold knot of fear in the pit of my stomach?

The water muffled my sobs as I leaned my forehead on my arms against the tiled wall. I was running out of time. How long would he let me stay in here hiding from him? The answer was: not long enough. Too soon I would have to face him and learn why I was brought here.

Come to think of it, I didn’t even know where here was. I didn’t remember where he lived, or maybe I never knew. I couldn’t even be sure it was the same house.

I had absolutely no memories of ever leaving the house the last time I was here. I didn’t even remember attending school, even though I was here for a long time. My birthday is in June and there were images of a Christmas tree somewhere in there, but no matter how hard I tried to bring forth a memory of school, there just wasn’t one. No teachers’ faces or names. Nothing about kids my own age. They just didn’t exist. When Mom and I settled in Springfield, I had struggled in school the first year or so, and needed a lot of extra help to catch up to the rest of my class. Then I remembered something.

I was lying on the floor beside Nicky’s desk, drawing a picture. My crayons were carefully lined up by
my paper so they weren’t in the way, and I was trying so hard to make it a good picture because I
wanted to give it to Nicky for a present. I kept my left arm curled around the paper so he wouldn’t see,
even though he promised not to peek.

I liked homework time because then it was just us and he was nice to me. He’d saved Mr. Teddy and
kept him a secret. He would take him down from the top of the closet when it was time for bed and let
me sleep with him. Sometimes he would even play with me if he wasn’t too busy. He was teaching me
how to play checkers and poker. He taught me what the numbers and letters were on the cards, but I
had trouble holding them and I still didn’t understand which ones went together so I could beat him.

Checkers was easier. It was red and black and jumping and putting crowns on kings. One time I even
beat him. He’d had the flu so I didn’t think he was paying attention, but he said it still counted.

“Damn! Damn! Double damn!”

I looked up from my drawing to see Nicky erasing something on his paper. He had an angry look on his
face and was grumbling about his teacher being the devil. I turned over my drawing so he wouldn’t see
and got up to stand beside him at his desk.

“C-c-can I h-help?” I asked, looking at the book lying open on his desk, the pages full of numbers and
words I didn’t understand.

He scowled at me and threw his pencil on his desk. “Say your words right, Jayden.”

“I-I’m s-sorry f-for being stupid,” I whispered, and dropped my gaze, sliding my hands off his desk
and wrapping them in my shirt, waiting for him to punish me like Daddy Harrison did for talking
stupid.

“Come here. I’m not mad at you,” he sighed, then picked me up to sit on his lap, hugging me and
holding my head against his chest. “Don’t start crying or you’ll just make it worse. You knowyou
stutter more when you cry.”

I tried to do what Nicky said. He put his finger under my chin and made me look at him.

“Okay, try again, slowly. Think about what you want to say and make the word before you say it. You
used to speak really well, so I knowyou can do it if you just try.”

I took a deep breath and tried really hard. I wanted Nicky to be proud of me so he wouldn’t have to
punish me. When I was bad or stupid, his daddy made him put me in the cage or spank me, and I knewit
hurt his feelings and made him sad. I didn’t want to make Nicky sad because then he might not want
me anymore, just like my mommy and daddy.

“C-”I stopped and tried again. “Can I h-help?”It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. I looked at him,
hopeful that he would be proud of me.

He smiled and hugged me. “That’s much better. Just keep trying.”

I looked at his book again and I chose my words carefully. Some were easier to say than others. “Can
I go t-to school so I c-can be smart and not s-stupid?”

He shook his head at me. “Dad says girls like you don’t go to school because it would just screw up
your head. Mom is teaching you numbers and howto read so you can cook and stuff. You don’t need to
knowother stuff like science and history to take care of me when I growup. I’m the only one who has to
be smart. Dad said when you’re older I can teach you other stuff, too, but you’re too little right
nowand he didn’t raise any perverts. Whatever that’s supposed to mean,”he explained with a shrug.

The pounding on the bathroom door pulled me from the past and made me jump. I coughed and sputtered when water sprayed my face.

“That’s long enough, Jayden. Get out now,” Nicholas yelled through the closed door.

I shut off the water and hung my head, dreading what was coming. I had a clue what he expected, though I still didn’t know why it had to be me. I wasn’t stupid or naïve any longer, but I was scared to death of what was going to happen next.

I dried myself off and wrapped the towel around my body, tucking the end in tightly under my arm.

Then I combed the tangles out of my hair and left it. Part of me was grateful he hadn’t come into the bathroom while I was in the shower, but I would still have to face him wearing a towel. Standing here

now, I wasn’t sure which was worse.

With my hand on the doorknob I paused and whispered, “Momma, please find me. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”

Somehow I needed to find a way to survive until my family rescued me. I thought about our last phone call and what Mom said about inner strength.

It was time to find that strength and face my fears.

I pulled up the local news site in Kansas on my computer to see if there were any new developments on Jayden’s accident and read the official statement from the police chief about the search being conducted. There was a brief interview with her mother and the man calling himself her father, about how much they appreciated the efforts of the local law and fire departments’ search and rescue teams, and how they were confident they would find their daughter soon. “Try again,” I snorted.

There was another blip from her roommate about how much she hoped JJ was found soon and was okay, and that she was such a great friend. Bullshit. That girl hardly gave Jayden the time of day. She wasn’t Jayden’s friend; she was only interested in her ten minutes of fame.

I zoomed in on the picture of Jayden included in the article. It was her high school graduation picture, complete with a red cap and gown. Her smile lit up her face, making her even more beautiful.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn she graduated valedictorian of her class and that she’d earned a scholarship to college. She was always an inquisitive child, eager to learn new things.

So many years wasted that I would need to undo. My only consolation was that she was still essentially a child, and time and distance worked wonders when combined with the techniques my father had taught us regarding how simple it was to eradicate memories until the person doubted they were ever real.

Her mother had always been the bane of my life. If we had found them when she stole Jayden from me, even though I was only fourteen, I think I would have killed her myself. Jayden had come so far during the time she was with me. She even came to believe Harrison was her last name. She had depended on me for guidance and direction. The only problem was that no matter what I did, she wouldn’t forget her mother. She held onto her memory with a tenacity that just about drove me insane.

Spring Break was starting in two days, so teachers were cramming as much homework on us as
they could. I was partway through my English essay when I heard Jayden running down the hall and
dropped my head in frustration, knowing I was about to be interrupted. I just wanted to finish my
homework so I could get someone to drive me to Daniel’s house to shoot some hoops.

Jayden always wanted my attention. Not that I blamed her; she was lonely. There weren’t any other kids around for her to play with and she was my responsibility since she belonged to me.

Sometimes, I really wished my father had waited. Taking care of Jayden was more work than training a puppy. Will was sixteen and still refused to pick anyone. He was smart. He got to come and go with his friends and didn’t have to worry about taking care of anyone.

“Nicky, look what I did t-today!”

I looked up as Jayden ran into my room. She was waving a piece of paper, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was dressed in denim shorts and the pink t-shirt I’d bought from the waterpark where I’d had my birthday party last weekend. Dad said it would be too hard to contain Jayden, so she stayed home. I bought her the shirt to showher I was still thinking about her. Her hair was pulled back out of her face with a small barrette.