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I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. This was exactly what I knew would happen. It was like I was thrown back in time, and I was powerless to stop it from happening. Like I was still that girl all those years ago and shrinking into myself was the only defense I had.
The sound of the garage opening signaled my parents’ return, and Uncle Dave stepped back, giving me enough room to breathe. I stood there for a minute, listening to my parents coming in through the door to the garage, the sound of plastic bags crinkling in their hands.
Uncle Dave, ever the liar, asked, “Need help?”
“Sure,” my dad said, “that’d be great.” He came to set the bags he carried on the counter beside me and told me, “Morning, Charlie. I hope you ate lots. Dave was insistent on cooking for you this morning.”
“Uh, yeah” was about all I could manage.
I disappeared into my room after that. Brett had texted me, but I ignored him. My mind still spun after the close call downstairs. What would I have done if my parents hadn’t come back right then? I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know.
I swear, I blinked and suddenly it was one in the afternoon. Dissociation for the win, I guess. I’d lost myself to time without realizing it, and I was still so sick to my stomach that I wasn’t even hungry after skipping lunch. After checking my phone, I saw I had a few missed calls from Brett, along with a bunch of unopened texts.
I… I think I needed to see him. Right now.
Without a second thought, I got up. I took my phone with me and left my room. Down the stairs I went, straight to the front door. I heard my dad and Uncle Dave in the living room, and I called out, “I’m going for a walk.”
No one stopped me. No one said a word, not that I expected them to. I slipped on my shoes and practically threw myself out the door. I played the Brett game—meaning I walked all the way to the sidewalk and then turn. Halfway to the neighbor’s house, I made a sharp turn and started through the grass.
My heart hammered in my chest all the while, parts of me still feeling icky, a feeling I couldn’t quite shake off. It was like everything I’d tried to push back all these years lurched to the forefront of my mind, and now I was drowning, struggling to stay afloat.
Honestly, I didn’t know what I’d do if Brett wasn’t here, if I had no one. Would I be strong enough to keep going, or would I let the darkness and the sadness take over, like I’d been so close to doing after telling Brett to leave?
I was glad he came back for me. I really didn’t know where I’d be if he would’ve left for real.
I made it to the treehouse and climbed up. Step after step, until I pulled myself into the opening and found Brett shirtless, doing pushups.
Yeah. Let’s just say it wasn’t the worst sight in the world. From where I was, I couldn’t see the fresh scar on his stomach, but I could imagine it easily. To think, that wound had nearly killed him—and it probably would’ve, if I wouldn’t have found him when I had.
Let’s just ignore the fact that I’d hit him with my car first… and the fact that I’d decided to leave him there before he’d reached out and asked for my help. That night a few mistakes were made.
Brett stopped his mini-workout, rolling to sit on his backside as he turned to stare at me. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth in a thin line. I’d say he wasn’t too happy that I’d ignored his calls and messages, but that’d be an understatement. He looked furious.
“Don’t be mad. I… was doing homework and I needed to focus,” I told him, trying to get ahead of it as I crawled toward him. I stopped when I was directly before him, on my knees, so close to him, and yet not close enough.
“That’s not a lie, is it?” Brett asked, cocking his head at me. His brown hair was slick with sweat, a few beads rolling down his face. His arm muscles looked tight, bulging more than I remembered, but that could be due to him not having a shirt on.
“What? No, it’s not a lie.” But it was. It was a lie, and Brett could see through it.
“Charlie, why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me? You started acting weird last night. You never ignore my calls or my texts, even when you’re doing schoolwork. What’s going on? And don’t you try to say nothing, because I know you, and I know when something’s wrong.”
The way he said all that, so confident about it, made me taken aback. In the scheme of life, we hadn’t known each other long. Was he really that self-assured that he knew all there was to know about me?
Well, he was wrong, obviously. He didn’t know everything. More than most, but not everything.
I wanted to tell him everything, I wanted to sic him on the man inside my parents’ house, acting like he was some loveable uncle and not a despicable human being who’d taken advantage of me for years. God, how badly I wanted that.
“Brett, I—” I stopped myself from saying more.
I didn’t want Brett to look at me differently. Even now, the guilt, the shame; it piled on my shoulders and made me feel small and pathetic. Speaking the truth had never been more difficult, and anyone who said it was easy was a liar.
His expression softened, and he reached for me, his hand curling around mine as he leaned forward, earnest. Especially earnest for a serial killer. “What is it? Charlie, you know you can tell me anything.”
Instead of telling him what I should have, instead of telling him the truth about Uncle Dave and all the things he’d done to me, I whispered, “I want to show you something.” Granted, it was something he’d probably already felt, but it was a part of me I’d never shared with anyone else.
If I could share this part of me, maybe I could tell him the rest of it. The real reason why I’d clung to Zak so hard, why our breakup had devastated me. The reason why I’d wished for a normal life with a normal boyfriend so much.
I moved onto his makeshift bed—didn’t want to get any splinters while doing what I was about to do. I kicked off my shoes and started to undo my pants. Off they came, and I kicked them away, more self-conscious as ever as Brett moved closer.
