I open my mouth to talk, to protest, to shout, but Pious leans in closer. His voice crawls like maggots down my neck. “All your fears.”
Suddenly my vision goes black and a small pinpoint of white light spreads from the very middle. The view blurs, then focuses, like I’m watching one of those ancient home videos my grandparents made when they were young. Two small girls, who can’t be more than five come stumbling down a long carpeted staircase, rubbing their eyes. They’re twins. You can tell, even though they look so different. One dark-haired and green-eyed, the other carries the same characteristics, but her eyes are set too far apart on her perfect little face, and the small cleft in her lip has yet to be fixed. It’s me and Claire. “Did Santa come? Did he?” five-year-old me asks while Claire clasps her plump little fists at the collar of her pajamas.
“Come in and see, girls!” My mother’s voice is warm and happy. My father’s laughter rings out from somewhere behind her. I don’t remember this Christmas. I don’t remember any Christmas my father was home to celebrate with us.
Claire stumbles ahead of me, squealing and tearing at all the presents.
“Oh, Claire, sweetie, wait. You have to only unwrap the ones with your name on them…”
But Claire’s too small to understand, and I stand back and watch as Claire opens two of every toy we asked for.
“Come here, Katie-girl,” my father’s voice hums. “I’m sorry about that, Santa should have separated them a little better.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. I’ll write that in my letter to him next year.” And even though I see my eyes shut tight as I snuggle onto my father’s lap, I can hear the tears in my voice.
Pious grunts out a harsh command and the scene cuts out. “Too far, for Solar sake, I need more recent memories!”
Suddenly, my forehead feels overheated and my mind races with disconcerting images. We’re in the waiting area of the psychiatric ward in a hospital. My mother is crying, holding my sister’s hand. “Katie,” she says, turning to me with bloodshot eyes, “you’re going to have to be a big girl for me now on, you’re going to have to help mommy take care of Claire and daddy now.” What a horrible day that was—what a shitty memory to replay. I hated that day.
The screen pops and zaps to a snowy day in Central Park, and Claire and I are watching some older kids play, when a giant ball of packed ice collides into the bottom of my chin and throat. Ice and snow fall down into the collar of my coat, instantly sending chills down my spine. I hear the kids who threw the snowball at me laughing. The crazies, they called us. I bring my gloved hand up to my chin and try hard not to cry in front of them. They crowd around us and point and laugh and call us horrible things. When I pull my hand away from my chin to keep the boys away from Claire, it’s covered with blood.
I needed stitches that night, but my mother was working the night shift and instead of going to the hospital, I needed to stay home and watch Claire and my father.
I still have a scar.
The scene cuts into the back seat of a car. Leather interior, blacked-out windows.Shit. This was a few months ago just before the world went bad—when I snuck out of the apartment to meet Jason Moorings.
His lips were on mine, fast and desperate. “Babe, babe?” he says, breathlessly pulling his head back. “You sure your sister or your crazy-ass dad ain’t going to start banging on the windows?” His eyes dart to the window, and the fat drops of rain splattering against it. “Because the last few days of cockblocking us have given me a bad case of blue balls, you know?”
I pop the button open on his jeans and smile. He had no idea I needed it more than he did. Claire followed me everywhere. Every party, every date. My father, disillusioned and afraid, could never be left alone. Jason and I were only alone a handful of times so far, and they were such good times, I needed more of that. I needed a break to just live a normal life and have a normal relationship. I was tired of being my sister’s keeper. Tired of being my father’s too.
“I need inside you, Kate.”
I lean in and kiss him, slow at first, until all we can hear is our breaths, heavy with want, filling the small space.
“I need more,” he murmurs pulling up my shirt and pushing down the front of my bra to free my breasts. His words build an ache between my thighs. His mouth is on my nipple, sucking, teasing, tasting.
It’s getting hotter in the car; our panting mixes with the heat of the night and the back of my neck begins to perspire making it all the more arousing. Fat drops of rain splatter against the back windshield, not heavy, but enough to blur the outside world. Jason slides my pants down, fumbling with nervous hands. I face away, raising my bottom in the air.
As he tries to free his erection from his pants, I watch over my shoulder as it presses against his jeans until his zipper is open and it bobs out, hard and long. His fingers tremble as he slides a condom on, his breathing gets faster, raspier. His hand grips around its sheathed girth, and I shift back, pushing myself right over him until he slides inside me with a low, soft moan. It’s so hot in the car it feels like we’re sliding and melting together.
He’s so hard and throbbing I’m already so close to coming, it’s embarrassing. His fingers press into my hips and his thrusts shift steadily from long and slow to hard and fast. Until he’s slapping into me, grunting and gasping.
He presses his chest to my back and bites softly at the skin on my shoulder. His arms wrap around in front of me and one hand finds its way between my legs to rub his fingers over me hard and fast. My knees instantly go weak and my orgasm is building and building until Claire starts banging frantically on the window.
My entire body screams.
I never wanted to tear this faceplate off me like I do right now. My chest burns with humiliation, my whole body feels lit on fire.
Pious tilts his head at me. “Why would you want to save her? She was broken. So was your father. His mind was shattered.” I feel him step closer. “They were always your responsibility.”
I don’t justify anything he says to me with an answer. It’s my cross to bear. He’s not seeing my entire life; he’s watching snippets caught out of context…it wasn’t always so—
The viewfinder darkens again. Jesus, what the hell is next? Ido notwant to watch myself lose my virginity or—
“Kate?” a voice softly whispers.
My mouth falls open but I’m too speechless at the moment to make a sound.
