“You moved here to fuck with me.”
“No. I thought you were dead. When I found out you were alive, I needed to see you for myself, to know you were okay and say I’m sorry for—”
“To know I’m okay? Do I fucking look okay to you?” He shoves his visibly shaking hands into his hair.
All my reasons for chasing after him seem so selfish now. Talking about all this, rehashing the past, none of it is bringing peace. It’s breeding destruction.
“I need to get out of here.” He jumps to his feet and grabs his keys from his bag, leaving the rest behind. Throwing open the door, he stalks down the hall.
“Please, don’t leave like this. Give me a chance to explain. I know who’s responsible for what—”
He spins on me. “Responsible! Yeah, genius, so do I.” Towering over me, he leans into my space. His nostrils flare and his face is red. “Your sick piece-of-shit family!”
I close my eyes, hoping to block out the hate in his words. It wasn’t me. I’d never hurt him. The air shifts and when I open my eyes he’s gone. No, I can’t lose him again.
My feet hit the cold tile of the foyer, and I dart out the door. He’s halfway to his truck and gaining speed.
“Don’t leave.” I race to him and make it just as he’s climbing in. “If you’d hear what I have to say.”
“I’ve heard enough, Mac or Gia, whatever the fuck your name is. Leave me alone, you hear me? Fucking psycho bitch.”
My breath slams into my throat, and I stumble back at the blow of his words. “Why . . .?”
He hops out of his truck and comes around to get in my face. I’ve seen Rex do a lot of things, but I’ve never seen him look this terrifying.
“You don’t get to waltz into my life and start ripping everything to shit just to relieve your fucking conscience. From day one you knew exactly who I was; you followed me, manipulated me.” His arm darts out and points to my house. “Fucked me! All for what? So you could write me off as a success and move on?”
“No, I missed you and the rest was just an accident.” I cringe. Dammit, fuck, why can’t I say what I mean?
His lips curl back over his teeth. “Not an accident. Exploitation. You used me and you fucking know it.” He steps toward his truck then turns and points in my face. “You come near me, I’ll call the cops and tell them everything I know. Put your whole damn family behind bars. You’re sick. All of you.”
I drop my head. “Not me. I would never hurt you. I . . .” I meet his eyes, wanting to see the blue even if what’s working behind it reminds me nothing of the boy I used to know. “I love you.”
Stumbling back, he recovers and glares. “I trusted you.”
It hits like a sucker punch to the stomach. I double over, gritting my teeth through the raw pain of the truth.
“I opened myself to you, and the entire time . . . You listened while I poured my guts out and—no. No!” He gets close and shoves a finger at me. “You, stay the fuck away from me.” He turns, hops into his truck, and screeches out of my neighborhood, taking my heart with him.
I stand in my driveway, wearing only Rex’s T-shirt.
That’s it. He’s gone.
Now he knows I’m a liar, that I exploited his memory loss and kept his past from him in order to suit my own desire to be with him.
Silent tears stream down my face. My purpose for living has been ripped from my hands. It’s over.
Eighteen
They can lock me up, but they can’t keep me in here forever.
I’ll find my way back to him.
Always.
--Georgia McIntyre, age 10
Rex
“Pick up, Darren. Pick up!” My phone pressed to my ear, I throw my truck into a spot and put it in park.
“Hey, you’ve reached Darren Gale—”
“Fuck!” I throw my phone into the passenger seat. My head throbs, heart aches, lungs burn.
I can’t breathe. I push open my door and stumble through the parking lot. The concrete twists and rolls beneath my feet. I grip my head and walk faster. My stomach lurches. If I can just make it to my place.
I push through the door and race to my bathroom, tossing my keys somewhere along the way. Dropping in front of the toilet, I gag and cough.
Hands, strong and unforgiving, grope me from inside. A surge of bile pushes to unload. I gasp over the bowl. The memories flood from the caverns of my mind.
Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.
I retch into the toilet. My muscles form a vise from back to stomach that squeeze my insides. I hurl again. Moisture runs from my eyes. God, I wanted that so badly. I wanted to be taken care of.
Promise you won’t hurt me?
So young, fuck, I was so fucking young! Vomit lurches into my throat. Sour spit strings hang from my lips.
I want to make you feel good.
They all promised the same things. I had no one. Mom was dead. I was shuttled through different families that treated me like an animal. I was just a kid. I would’ve done anything to get them to love me.