we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance" (8 page)

And I can wait again, in silent exile this time if I have to.

Because I’m not a fool anymore. And I’m not a little naïve girl looking to be loved at any cost. Because I know there really isn’t any choice. Miles isn’t bluffing; his threat is all too real. Both to lock us away and to hurt Simon.

At least this way, I can watch and hope for a second chance.

But I won’t give up. And I won’t let Grace either. I’ll find a way; she just has to be strong enough to take whatever happens in the meantime. Poor girl.

I turn inward, but instead of heading into the light of the stage; I move into the shadows. I seek out the hidden ones. I’ll gain strength through what they hide. I have no need to hide from past monsters. Not anymore.

But as I hear Miles as if from a distance, I have a thought that stops me in my tracks.

I don’t actually know that Grace doesn’t still love him. She answered “yes and no” when Simon asked her if she loved another. I know she meant Miles.

I turn back toward the stage, but realize that it’s too late. And it doesn’t matter anyway. If she loves or if she doesn’t…she’s still going to have to find the strength to be what he wants.

19

I feel Gigi brush by me. I feel her swift withdrawal and her attempt to stay strong even as she runs from Miles now.

And I know how crazy that sounds.

I’ve always been aware of how crazy I sound. Hidden and sheltered on the stage, I watched the interaction between Gigi and Miles. And I know what he expects. I know he thinks of “me” as crazy. His doctors all signed off with how certifiable I am. Mother always used our insanity to threaten us into keeping her secrets.

He thinks the year with those doctors was enough to convince me that he’s right though. That I’m the “real” Gillian and I should be able to stay present at all times.

I’d laugh if I wasn’t torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry at the moment.

Because it’s ludicrous to think that I’m the original “Gillian” or that I’d be strong enough to overcome the others and stay for longer periods of time. No matter how much Miles wants that, I’ve never lasted for longer than a few weeks outside. Lilly’s actually able to stay longer than I am.

This more than anything is what convinced me to follow Gigi’s plan three years ago. Because I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to live up to what Miles wanted. No, he demanded. As much as I loved him…I knew I was never going to be enough for him. And I was never going to be strong enough to take the pain he needed to inflict.

I feared that we’d end up in that cramped room. I knew we really would go crazy if that happened. Not even Gigi had the strength to stay in that room.

I owed it to her and Jill and Baby and Lilly to keep us safe. I owed it to them to support her plan for escape. But in the end, it didn’t matter. I could feel her hopelessness now like a cloud that shadows only part of the landscape. Or perhaps it’s my own hopelessness I feel as I pull Miles’ jacket back over me as a protective layer against his watchful eyes.

His voice is so low, so masculine, it’s a gentle rocking to my body, “You rest for now, my love.” I close my eyes and feel the tears slipping down my cheeks, hidden by my hair. And I’m grateful that the shame from the wetness between my legs is hidden too. I hate how my body submits to him, even now.

A cold detached thought springs in my head. Maybe it’s better this way. At least I know that my body will give him what he wants, even as my mind thinks to refuse. I told Simon that I still belong to Miles…but he made me doubt that truth when I was in his arms. Now I see how foolish I was to think that I could ever
not
belong to Miles.

…But what about my heart?

I fly away from this thought, not onto the stage as I want, but into the arms of a deep exhausted slumber, a blanket of darkness that will briefly protect me.

20

“I’m going to be taking off…” Cary’s voice is subdued and annoying as it echoes off the glass enclosure. It’s been four days since Grace ran from the party and he’s been hanging around here trying to be something he’s not. My babysitter. I only nod in response, not moving my eyes from the reflection of shadows and light on the calm surface of the pool. “You need anything before I go?”

I don’t turn my head. If I did, I’d tell him to fuck off or worse. “Nah. I’m good, man. I’ll call you in a few days.” And because I can still feel his worry heavy on me like the wet towel over my shoulders, I add, “We’ll plan a night next week.”

His feet shuffle with his weight bouncing back and forth, “K…anything you want, Cuz…take care, man.”

He finally leaves, but I wait a few minutes before tossing the towel onto the table next to me and sitting forward with my head in my hands. Fuck.

It’s all I can think. It’s all I’ve been thinking for hours. Fuck. Because if I start to think of anything else, my mind goes into a blind rage. I take in a few deep breaths, letting nothing fill my head more than the intensified chlorine smell filtered between my fingers.

I finally get up but my limbs feel heavy, soggy like my shorts. I hate sitting around in a wet suit, makes me itch. Without thinking, I strip the shorts off, leaving them in a puddle on the tile.

I’ve always loved this pool. The calmness of the water is usually the perfect antidote to whatever bullshit obsession is battering my head. It didn’t work today, but I still step into the water again, marveling at the steady ripples and doing my usual count to see how long it takes for the waves off of me to start pushing back against the far side.

I need this emptiness. After the darkness of the last few days, it feels good to be drained of any thoughts or feelings. I reach the bottom step and slowly lower myself into the pool, taking a lung full of air before letting the water lap calmly over my head. This is my favorite part, sitting on this step, submerged and holding my breath.

It reminds me of my Grandfather. It’s a christening of sorts for me. When I came to live here, Grandfather brought me to this room first. He told me that I would learn to swim in this pool. He said that for a man, there’s no greater feeling than overcoming with weightless resistance something that could destroy you. Swimming and flying are two things we’re not meant to do, but man can transcend his limits and make anything possible. His words, not mine.

My first night here, I came down to this pool by myself, after all the lights went out in the house. I got lost on the way a few times, but that only made it more of an adventure, only made me more determined.

The first time I stepped foot in this pool, I was nude and shivering despite the heat from the water. But it wasn’t cold or fear that shook me. It was excitement. I wanted to face the challenge my Grandfather had presented. I wanted to be the man he talked about, in that strong voice graveled from decades of smoke.

And that first night, I went down the steps and stopped at the third one. The water was already up to my chest, as comfortable as a bath. I started my ritual of counting the seconds for the waves to start returning to me that night. When I was satisfied that I’d conquered the calm surface, I slowly sat down, grabbing the railing to keep myself from floating up. I gulped my air down and squeezed my eyes shut and enjoyed the feeling of being submersed in warm liquid.

I didn’t count the seconds that I stayed under, I was too distracted to start another obsession. The bubbles that tickled across my skin demanded too much attention; as did the burning in my lungs so quickly after the hair on the top of my head started floating away from me. When I came up for air, I whooped a cry of victory with a jump and slipped on the step. I flailed with my little boy arms and legs pumping, swallowing mouthfuls of chemical water until finally my fingers brushed against metal and I was able to blindly latch onto the railing again, pulling myself to safety.

I hacked and sneezed water, fighting the need to throw up. But when I was finally able to breathe again, I was smiling. The water around me was still churning and I could feel it waking against the step behind me, splashing water onto my back. It felt like a pat for a job well done. I waited until I could hold my breath again and I sat in the water another five times, each time staying down a little longer.

I felt like a conquering hero that night, but I also gained a respect for what my Grandfather had said. The water could have destroyed me, pulled me under and never let go. It felt good to resist that. I had some control over something for the first time in my very young life. A control that I was desperately in need of, then and now.

I saw that same need in Grace, in all her personalities. She became
more
to overcome what could have destroyed her, to take back some of the control she never had. I suppose a lot of people would think she is destroyed, split into five parts. But I think it shows her strength, her determination to weightlessly resist what tried to pull her down.

Slowly standing, I enjoy the lightheadedness and wait to open my eyes again. The simple blackness is broken only by the feeling and sound of water running rivers down my body. At least in this room, I can’t imagine Grace or Red. I didn’t get a chance to bring her here before she fucking left.

Getting out of the pool, I debate again my decision to give her some space, some time.

I wanted to run down the drive, search for her on the country road that night. But seeing the concern on Cary’s face at the crazed one on mine was enough to knock some sense into me. The valets were useless, but I assumed that Red found a willing helper to give her a ride. I knew I wouldn’t find her walking that’s for certain.

I snort, I’m sure she had a nice ride. I try not to think too long on that. I can distract myself with all the other ways she pissed me off instead.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that she left or left with only a short note that has me more enraged. I kept expecting her to show up. Not to come crawling back to me, that’s not her style. Not Grace’s either. But I thought Red would come walking through my door with some smartass response ready. Or Grace would come back expecting an apology in her quiet, sweet way.

But she didn’t and I no longer hold out hope that she will.

So I have two choices. Three I guess. Forget her. Not really an option, since I’ve tried it before and failed. And I just don’t want to. She’s my obsession and I’m too far gone now to give her up.

So that leaves me with finding her and forcing her back here. A thought that makes me feel oddly sickened. Probably because it’s just what she accused me of before she left. Treating her like one of my products.

I thought she knew that she was more than that to me. I thought she understood so much more than she did apparently. Or maybe it’s her batshit nuttiness getting in the way. But I’ll have to make her see what she means to me. If I can just get past the anger over her leaving.

I can imagine taking my rage out on her. I smile with the thought of Red in an elaborate twist of chains and ropes and leathers. I’d whip her once for every letter in her fucking short note, then start all over again.

But the reality of knowing that I’ll have to deal with not only Red, but Grace and the others…Fuck. I’ve never felt remorse before. It’s disgusting.

Grace had said that I could love her or hurt her, but I couldn’t break her, that she was already too broken. She said I was broken too. And maybe I am. Because I promised not to hurt her, but then treated her like she was just a product. Threatened to toss her in my cave and torture her. Fuck, even reminded her of all the women I’ve done just that to.

I can’t blame her for wanting to leave. But I can’t forgive her either. And I sure as shit can’t forget her. I’ll give her a little more time, but eventually she’s going to have to come to terms with a simple fact. She’s mine. Broken or not, mad or not, she belongs with me.

Which is why I’ve chosen option three. Wait until she’s cooled off before finding her. I don’t like it, but this option at least gives me some hope that she’d return to me on her own. That whatever fucked up relationship we were starting could work out between Grace, Red, the others and me. I just have no clue how to make that happen just yet.

So I’m giving her space, giving her time. Waiting. Fuck. Giving myself this space and time too. My anger hasn’t subsided though. Hope she’s having better luck, because when I do find her…I let my threat stay unspoken, even in my own head. I have no idea what I’ll do when I see her again.

I thought I needed time to figure this out; but now that I’ve had some, I know it’s no use. There is no figuring out us. It is what it is. Red fuels my depravity, leaving me exposed and raw with the emotions she so eagerly reveals and desires; and in the next second, Grace soothes my cravings, leaving me ripped open and vulnerable to the softness she so readily shares. And it’s everything I ever wanted and never knew I needed and I’m so fucking pissed off at her for throwing it all away with one fucking short ass note that I want to explode with the desire to find her and fuck the shit out of her.

My laugh bounces off the glass walls and ceiling. Yep, the image of fucking her has definitely taken over the thought of punishing her again.

Cary had suggested that we head back to the city. He thought a few sluts would be more than enough to take my mind off of her. He didn’t understand why I would want to wait around here. He was slick about it, but he kept prying for more information about her. I could see that he wasn’t going to let it go. I finally gave up today and told him most everything. He at least didn’t act pissed that I’d lied to him about her. And he didn’t act overly sympathetic either. That would’ve just sent me into another rage.

I didn’t tell him about her personalities. Or that I was watching her over a year ago. And he didn’t ask too many questions, but it felt good to stop calling her Scarlet at least. And to have someone to talk to about her. Even if I didn’t say much.

He still doesn’t understand why I’m staying and waiting. He knows I’ve never waited for anything. And I’m regretting my decision more each day.

But a part of me is still hoping she’ll come back on her own, like the waves that return to me on the water’s surface. I just have to stay steady and count out the wait.