When We Collide (16 page)

Only once had I fought him, and, in the end, I’d
lost everything. Now I didn’t even try. I focused on the distorted
spot on the wall, one I wasn’t sure was really there.

His hands became impatient in the normally
controlled violence. His voice was harsh and out of place. “Maggie,
look at me.”

I pinned my cheek to the bed and squeezed my eyes
shut, seeking refuge in my mind.

“I said look at me.” His fingers were at my jaw, and
his nails dug into my skin as he forced me to turn to him. His
brown eyes were wild yet sharp and defined. “Do you see me? I’m
never going to let you go, Maggie. Never.”

As if I didn’t already understand that. He’d made it
perfectly clear what he would do if I ever tried to leave
again.

He shuddered, rolled from me, sated, his anger
quenched.

He just passed the anger on to me.

I faced away from him, and Troy draped his arm
around my waist and pulled me against his chest.

Nuzzling his nose in my hair, he kissed my neck and
mumbled, “I love you so much, baby,” close to my ear. I cringed as
I was overcome by memories and regret.

One of the hardest things to stomach was he actually
believed he did.

He drew me tighter before his breaths evened out,
and he fell asleep.

I let the tears come, listened to the wind beat at
the walls of this house, the words silent on my lips. “No, you
don't.”

Maggie ~ June, Six Years Earlier

I held my breath when I felt him. My senses keened
with William’s presence, prickling in awareness as I felt his eyes
burning into me from behind.

Though the way he watched me now was different. This
time it was with a sadness I hated was there.

Moving through his house, I kept my face downturned
as I worked. My mind was so twisted up in confusion that I didn’t
know up from down or inside from out. I didn’t know myself.

He’d brought something out in me I hadn’t known
existed, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I wished I were
brave enough to look at him. I wished I could find even an ounce of
the courage I’d found in myself last week.

Kissing William was the bravest thing I’d ever
done.

It was also the most honest.

In the house I grew up in, I’d learned to hide. The
quieter I was, the less attention I received. My mom tried to show
us love in the moments she wasn’t fighting for her own life, but
every effort was overshadowed by my father. Even her attempts at
affection had become unwelcome, because they only drew more
attention to me. So I never asked for anything and only took what I
was given—which was usually the last thing I wanted.

But with William I’d
taken
, giving into
something I’d wanted since I met him—to feel his skin under my
hands. I’d longed to touch him, even just a gentle brush of skin. I
wanted to know if it’d feel anything like the way I imagined it
would.

I doubted William understood what he’d come to mean
to me over the last few weeks. How important he’d become. I doubted
he knew how much I looked forward to the moment when I’d see him
again. I couldn’t wait until he smiled at me with those soft brown
eyes and made me laugh.

He had made me feel not only special, but almost
normal, as well.

Then he’d asked about my parents. He said he’d
heard
. It had shocked me from that fantasy, reminding me of
just how far from
normal
I was.

So ashamed, I ran into his kitchen and wished I
could disappear from his house forever, whisked away to some
unknown spot where I’d never have to face him again. I’d intended
on fleeing out the back door, but then thought I at least owed him
an apology.

No one had ever treated me as if I were a
person.

To my father, I was a puppet, a plaything reserved
for his sadistic mind. To my mother, I was the one who picked up
the pieces, helped her to bed when she couldn’t stand, lied for her
the way I’d been taught to do since I was just a little girl. To
the town, I was a rumor, at best, a charity case.

But William never looked at me as if I were any of
those things.

He looked at me as if he actually saw
me
.

Then he had touched me, and the same warmth I felt
brimming in his eyes had overflowed, wrapped me up and made me
whole.

When I opened my eyes to find him staring up at me
and he breathed our connection aloud, I’d had to show him and make
him understand.

It’d taken all of about fifteen seconds for fear to
take hold.

I’d fought it. I wanted so badly to stay—to smile
and just be
normal
.

But I’d run.

Coming back today had been hard. Every bit of will I
had was put into lifting my finger to ring the doorbell.

Now he watched me with an unease I wished I could
erase. I’d do anything to take us back to how we’d been before,
when he’d treated me like a friend and not some weak, damaged girl
he had to tiptoe around.

Something broke apart inside when he finally escaped
upstairs, the blunt click of his door shutting me out.

“You’re such a fool, Maggie,” I muttered to myself.
Wanting something more with someone I knew I could never really
have, and then screwing it up when he offered me a little taste of
it.

William was so far out of my league.

The teenaged girl in me knew he was gorgeous. He was
tall and lean, though I’d seen the strength when he’d stood up for
me. His muscles had bristled and flexed beneath his skin. His face
was equally as strong, though his cheeks still held a bit of
roundness, a fading trace of youth that gave him a boyish, subtle
charm. But in his gentle eyes, I saw something much deeper than all
of that. William was kind and beautiful and smart and deserved
someone a thousand times better than me—deserved someone who could
actually look him in the eye.

I shuffled toward the kitchen. Mrs. Marsch sat at
the table. Bills and invoices were spread out around her.

“I’m finished, Mrs. Marsch,” I called quietly from
the safety of the archway, feeling too timid to make my way in
without being invited.

With a smile, William’s mother looked up and
beckoned me in with a wave. “Oh, thank you, Maggie. You don’t know
how great it’s been having you here to help out.” She turned her
attention back to writing a check while she continued to speak.
“With my filling in for Lara over at the thrift store, I can’t seem
to get anything done around here…and you know how messy my boys
are.”

I approached her and stopped a couple of feet away,
feeling more self-conscious than normal after what had happened
with William the week before. I wondered if she’d be disgusted if
she knew I kissed her son. “I’m glad to help…and I really
appreciate the job,” I added.

A warmth so similar to the one I felt with William
spread over me when Mrs. Marsch brought her attention back to me,
and her head tilted to the side. “Are you feeling okay today,
Maggie?” she asked as she handed me a check.

Under her watch, I somehow didn’t feel like a rumor
or a charity case.

I forced myself to smile and meet her eye. “I’m
fine...thank you. I’m just a little tired is all.”

Mrs. Marsch’s mouth turned up in understanding.
“Well, you know you can let me know if you ever need anything,
don’t you?”

I bit my lip and dropped my gaze to the floor, and I
mumbled, “Yes, Ma’am.”

A modest, friendly laugh tinkled from her mouth.
“Please, call me Glenda.”

Nodding slightly, I said, “Thank you…Glenda.”

“Anytime.”

Walking back out into the main room, I glanced up in
the direction of William’s room. I hated that I felt like this,
hated I wanted something so badly, hated I was too scared to do
anything about it.

On a heavy breath, I turned away. My feet were
sluggish as I headed to the front door. Relief and uncertainty
flooded me when I felt him emerge from behind. For a moment, I
stilled with my hand on the knob before I gathered myself enough to
look over my shoulder. He stood at the top of the stairs. His
expression was pained as he searched my face.

Maybe I was a fool, but right then, I didn’t care if
I was. I’d never exposed myself to anyone. I had lived my life
entire life in secrecy, and for once, I wanted to share myself with
someone.

I wanted William to know.

Twisting the knob, I stepped out into the afternoon
sun and rested the door partially open. I took the chance he would
understand.

Humidity clung as a thin mist on my skin as I made
my way up the sidewalk. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I hugged
myself, watching my feet as they made contact with the concrete.
Anxiety threatened to grip me when I felt him follow.

This is what you wanted
, I had to remind
myself when I got to the end of the street, trying to calm my
natural instinct to hide. Staring ahead, I waited until I felt him
near, then I darted across the intersecting street.

On the other side was my sanctuary.

Summer had taken hold, and only a couple families
braved the blistering heat. A mother pushed a small child on the
swing, and two older children climbed the stairs to the slide. I
slinked behind them unnoticed, following the path that ran to the
back of the playground. At its end rose a wood. It was dense and
thick from the small river that ran deeper in the thicket.

I felt William at a distance behind me. His own
apprehension was radiating in every step.

The ground softened beneath my feet when the path
ended, and I traipsed through the wild grasses. The air shifted and
cooled as the sun’s rays were blocked by the trees overhead.
Children’s laughter filtered through the branches and leaves,
obscured and distorted.

I sank down out of view behind the massive fallen
oak. Velvety moss blanketed its sides, padding my back as I leaned
heavily against its safety. Soft grass cushioned the ground floor,
and lush-leaved branches created a canopy overhead.

Closing my eyes, I released a relieved breath into
the welcomed seclusion.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to know he was there.
I could feel him standing above me.

Allowing my eyes to drift open, I watched in my
periphery as he settled facing me, just off to the side. He left a
small space between us.

Minutes ticked on as we sat in the stillness. The
only movement was the birds flying overhead and rustling through
the leaves.

“This is where I come to hide from my father,” I
finally said, still staring out into the distance, though I felt
him stiffen with my assertion. I plucked a blade of grass and
rolled it to a wet pulp between my fingers. “I always feel safe
here...even at night.”

A weighted silence followed my admission. In it, he
waited, seeming to understand I needed time. I’d never admitted it
aloud, and even though I was aware everyone suspected it, making it
form on my lips felt like the hardest thing I’d ever done. Funny
how the lies bled so easily from my mouth but the truth fought to
remain hidden. But the lies had been ingrained so deeply through
fear and shame they’d almost become my truth.

I hugged my knees to my chest. He’d asked about my
family, and I was going to tell him.

“My father,” I began, squeezing my eyes shut,
“he’s...sick.” William inhaled sharply beside me, but I continued
on, “So angry.” I glanced in his direction as I wet my lips. “I
don’t understand it...how...how someone can find satisfaction in
hurting someone else. When he hits my mother, it’s like...like he
gains strength from it.” I shook my head to shake off the chills
that flashed over my skin, and I couldn’t stop tears from gathering
in my eyes.

William drifted a little closer. I could feel the
heat from his skin, but he still wasn’t close enough to touch.

I choked over the sob in my throat as I tried to
speak, completely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that
came with finally telling
someone
.

“He feeds on fear...on my fear...my sister’s
fear...my mother’s fear.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and rubbed
the wetness onto my shorts. A fresh round took their place. “For my
mother, it’s his fists, his words. With me and my sister”—a shudder
racked my chest, the words ripped from my mouth—“he touches.”

I swallowed and looked at William through bleary
eyes, seeing the shock and disgust he tried to mask on his face.
“It’s like he needs the control...the reaction...to see us
cry.”

Unbridled emotion rushed from his mouth, like he
couldn’t contain the thought. “Does he—”

“No,” I shot out faster than he could finish,
knowing from the horrified expression on his face what he was going
to ask. I pinched my eyes closed and forced away the image of my
greatest fear—my father climbing into my bed rather than getting
onto his knees beside it.

For the longest time we sat there, until he finally
asked the one question I knew was inevitable. “Why haven’t you told
anyone?”

I’d expected it to feel like an accusation, but
somehow coming from William, it didn’t. I bit at my lip and kind of
shrugged. “When you’re raised the way I was, everything is a
secret. It was a secret before I knew it was wrong.”

“God, Maggie. I can’t stand that this happened to
you.” He stretched a tentative hand toward me and seemed to search
my face for permission.

I lifted my eyes to him. For the first time in my
life, I was completely open, hiding nothing. I wanted him to know
me
. When he gently spread the palm of his hand over my knee,
it jarred another part of my guarded heart loose. I could feel
it—his compassion—his sorrow—his anger as it seeped against my
skin.

“I didn’t want to believe it. Or...” He blinked for
a long second, and then he forced out the words, “I guess I just
hoped it wasn’t true.”