“I did it, okay,” Nikki said, her whispered words spoken to the floor.
I leaned in, inches from her face. “What did you do?”
More sobs.
“I thought that’s what love was. And I loved you so much.”
“What did you do, Nik?” I kept pushing, forcing her to admit it.
“I touched you.”
“Where?”
“In places I shouldn’t have. I made you do things to me. I didn’t know it was wrong, I swear.”
“Liar.”
“Rory, please. I didn’t.”
“You did know it was wrong. You told me I could never tell anyone.”
“It was what my stepfather used to say to me. If I told anyone, they’d take me away. And they did. A teacher reported it and they took me away. I never got to see my mom or Jerry again. And I know it’s so warped, but Jerry never hurt me in the physical sense. He made me feel loved, and because I loved you, I thought…”
I closed my eyes, and a pained exhalation followed. This right here was why I’d always had such conflicted feelings about Nikki. Her wires were all crossed, to a point where she actually thought her stepfather hadn’t hurt her, and every choice she’d made from that point forward was through the lens of a wounded child. The abused had become the abuser. It was my fate to shatter.
“I was eight,” she said. “I know it’s no excuse. But I was terrified if you told anyone, they’d separate us. I couldn’t lose you because you were the only good thing in my life. I was selfish. I know that now.”
“You manipulated me, Nik, telling me you were the only one who would ever love me. You made me afraid I’d be alone forever. For five years you made me beg the social workers not to separate us, and during all that time you continued to abuse me. If I tried to leave, you threatened to kill yourself. You trapped me in your miserable hell. Those five years, I could have been adopted into a family, but you made us a package deal. Two broken kids for the price of one. What perspective parent would take that losing bet? You turned me into you. Damaged and unadoptable.”
“I know,” she sobbed between words. “What else can I say to you but I’m sorry. Every bad thing that has ever come your way has been because of me. My mind likes to pretend it was because of Martin and Hartman and the others, but it wasn’t. It was me. I stole your innocence way before they ever got you in their clutches. Look at me, Rory. Please.”
Slowly, I leveled my gaze.
“I’m sorry. And this time for the real reason. I’m sorry for abusing you. I’m sorry for ruining your chances of a family of your own. I’m sorry for making you susceptible to the hunters. I’m sorry for sentencing you to a life of foster care and abuse and homelessness. I’m sorry for all of it. You were right. It was all me.”
I lowered my head to the table, at a loss for words. Nicola Aldana had finally confessed to her sins. It was what I’d always wanted; what the boy in the mirror had demanded in order for me to live free from his judgment. But now what? Did I forgive her? Did I want to? I understood she was a victim too, but where did it stop? When did the cycle of abuse end? It was easy to hate Martin and his men, the ruthless monsters behind, and in front of, the camera. It was harder, though, to hate the monster you actually loved. Because somewhere inside I still did love Nikki, even though I knew I needed to let her go for my own sake.
“Why did you come here?” I asked without looking up. “What do you want from me?”
“She wants a ticket to tonight’s show,” Grace intervened, running her fingers through my hair in an attempt to console me.
I lifted my head, staring. “That’s all you want—a ticket?”
“One show, and then I’ll walk away,” Nikki said, her voice breaking like shards of glass tumbling to the floor. “You promised me, Rory, remember?”
I remembered; I’d just never understood why it was so important to her. This had always been Nikki’s dream—to watch me perform on stage. To see me succeed. Those nights we’d lain awake, dreaming of being something more—her a famous actress and me a professional drummer—and when our make-believe was over, she’d make me promise to give her a ticket to my show. I did, every single time. And now she’d come to collect.
“Why has this always been so important to you?” I asked.
“Because only when I see you up on stage, living your dream, will I know for sure that you survived me.”
* * *
Nikki got her ticket.Later that night, she sent Grace a video of her in a seat smiling through the tears. She then flipped the camera in the direction of the stage and recorded me slamming down a drum solo with a crazy smile on my face. She captioned the video “Best night of my life” and followed it up with the text.
Nik
Tell Rory I’m so proud of the man he’s become. Tell him he’s going to have it all. Everything he’s ever dreamed of. That mansion in the hills. The pedigree girl—treat him right, Grace. But most of all, tell him he never has to run again. I love you, Rory, even if you don’t believe me
