I bring the tea in the living room and we both sit on the sofa, the only light coming from the kitchen, leaving the room dim and calming.
"What's going on in there, Carter?" I ask quietly.
He sighs and tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. "That night… I didn't know what was going on, at first. I only knew you were in trouble. I immediately went to my dad and he called 911. The cops tracked your phone and, Jesus, they didn't make it in time."
He scrubs his hands over his face, then leans forward to grab his tea before resting his elbows on his knees.
"I knew what they were doing, too, Tera. They laughed and joked about it, so I knew. I was paralyzed in fear for you. I didn't know if they were just going to hurt you or if they were going to kill you. One of them mentioned a gun. Another mentioned a switchblade. I sat in a corner in the hallway while my dad frantically spoke to the police. He kept reassuring me it would be okay, but I knew it wouldn't. Nothing was okay."
I stay silent so he can continue to purge anything he needs to. Hearing this from him isn't an easy thing for me. It's tearing me in half again. He mentions something they said or did and I feel it, I hear it.
"You stopped talking. I thought you were dead. I couldn't stand it, but then something even worse happened. You started mewling out this awful sound of distress, and you screamed in pain. It sounded like an animal being abused, but I knew it was you. That, to me, was worse than death. Hearing you suffer like that…" He pauses, wiping the tears from his eyes then taking a drink of his tea.
He leans back against the sofa again, turning his head to look at me.
"I was still in love with you, and hearing you hurt, hearing them hurt you, it was as if they were delivering the punishment directly to my heart. Then you went silent again and I didn't know what happened—if they killed you, or if you just… broke. Eventually, I knew you were alive. They talked about how it was pissing them off tonothear your crying, even though youwerecrying. They wanted to hear you suffer. Seeing it wasn't enough."
I nod and wipe my own tears, my body beginning to shake. Carter reaches out and cups my cheek.
"I wanted to kill someone that night. I would have killed them all if I'd been able to get there in time. It felt like hours, I'm sure it did to you, too. In actuality, it was only like twenty minutes or something—if that."
"They did maximum damage in minimal time," I whisper hoarsely, my voice cracking.
Carter sets his mug down on the table, doing the same with mine, before pulling me onto his lap and holding me tight. I know this is more for him than me. Whatever he needs…
"Then they were gone. It was a few minutes before I heard you whimpering. I was going crazy being in Chicago when you needed me in LA. I knew I should have gone along on that trip. Something told me I needed to go but I didn't listen. I mean, you had Xander. I thought he'd have been there," he tells me desperately.
"But he wasn't," I whisper.
"No. He wasn't. You were alone because you took the time to talk to him without distraction before you left. You sacrificed so much for him at that time, what with the band and touring," he reminds me.
"I did. I didn't mind. Not until that night," I reply.
"Do you—" He shakes his head.
"Go ahead and ask. It's okay."
He gives me an uncertain look. "Do you… did you ever blame him?"
I nod. "Oh yeah. It's only natural. I mean, like you said, I stayed late and alone for him. If I hadn't, none of that would have happened. If he'd been there for my big night, like I'd been for him countless times, none of it would have happened."
"I blamed him."
I look at him in surprise.
"I did. I still do. If he'd fucking been there… if he'd justonceput you first, you wouldn't have been attacked," Carter bites out with anger.
I nod. "I know. I thought that so much, but can I blame him, really? I was the one who wanted to talk to him without interruptions, so I stayed at the gallery alone. I could have talked to him on speaker in the car, but I didn't want to have to deal with traffic and talk at the same time."
"Are you really blaming yourself for this?" he asks, clearly pissed.
"No. God, no. I never blamed myself, but all the 'what ifs' went through my mind while I recovered in the hospital. I spent a lot of time sedated, and all a person does then is sleep or think. I didn't want to talk to anyone so I pretended to be asleep even when I wasn't. I didn't want to see them. They could be there for this but not for the biggest night of my life? You see, I've thought it all. I've told them all every one of my thoughts. It's part of therapy," I tell him.
He nods. "When I saw you…" He clears his throat. "When I saw you lying in that bed, I didn't know if death would have been better. That's a fucked up thing to think. I know that now, but then, you were so broken and lost. I'm glad you didn't die, Tera, but I am so fucking sorry you had to go through all of that."
I wipe his tears. "I know, but don't you be sorry. Yousavedmy life, Carter. There's no way anyone would have found me in that alley. It was dark. I would have likely bled to death."
He hugs me tighter and I hug him back.
