She’d lost it. Gone completely ape shit crazy.
She knew she shouldn’t have gone to the club, shouldn’t have gone out. Not tonight, not when her emotions were too close to the surface, making her decisions stupid at best. And he’d lied when he’d said she went slumming at the frat. She hadn’t been back there for years. But when she’d seen Brent dancing in the club, it’d felt normal, easy, and she’d fooled herself into believing that she could actually escape the memories of this night.
Her poor sister, dead, mouth gaping open like a fish flopping on land. And so much blood. It’d been everywhere, on the couch, the carpet, even the walls. Trisha sniffed, wiping her nose, trying in vain to stop the images from drowning her out. But they came like a torrent and all she could do was sob, lungs heaving for air as it crashed over her again and again.
It’d been ten years; it should be easier by now. Most days it was, but sometimes the memories snuck up, latched their sticky feelers into her brain and refused to budge. There were some pains even time couldn’t heal completely.
Letting the tears run unchecked, she dropped the gun, grabbed a beige throw pillow, and screamed into it so loud and so hard she feared her neighbors might hear.
Everyone thought she was okay. They thought she was perfect, full of smiles and laughter—because she never let anyone see the festering wound that lived inside.
Even Betty didn’t know how the memories still consumed her. How once a year it crippled her to the point that she could hardly breathe. Jacqueline had been her best friend. And to be the one to find her that way, to have to see the body and know her sister was no longer in it…it’d killed something in her.
Jacq had called the night before it’d happened, said she had great news to share. But Trisha had been so tired after her long ass shift at the drive-thru restaurant. Barely sixteen, she’d thought more about sleep than sharing in her sister’s joy. Her last words had been, “Can this wait till the morning?”
Next morning, Jacq had been dead.
Gut churning, she gagged and ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. Gasping for breath between the retching, she clung to the bowl for dear life as the vision played over and over. Her reactions weren’t normally so visceral, not anymore, but after the confrontation with Brent, it was just too much.
Minutes later, she could think again, breathe again. Mouth tipped down, she flushed the toilet and stripped off the rest of her clothes then turned the shower on. As hot as it would go. So hot it scalded and burned.
Body shaking, she got inside and huddled under the fiery spray. Staring at nothing as the past haunted her present. Eventually the water cooled and the spray became like ice. Forced to drag herself out, she barely had enough energy to brush her teeth, let alone dry herself, before she made her way to the couch and plopped down onto it. Too exhausted to even attempt putting on clothes, the best she could do was tug on the throw blanket hanging over the armrest; she covered her trembling body and closed her eyes. The tears that hadn’t stopped since starting soaked the cushion beneath her head.
*
The phone rang.
Bleary eyed, Trisha stared at her alarm clock. The night was a giant blank, at some point she must have moved from the couch to the bed. She wasn’t sure when. But the sheets were tangled around her feet and her hair was a rat’s nest.
Groaning, exhaustion lacing every inch of her body, she reached for it. “What?” she snapped, never a morning person to begin with.
“Umm… Trisha, is this a good time?”
“Betty?” Jerking to an upright position, she almost sobbed. It’d been a month since she’d last seen her best friend. “Where the hell are you?”
“Home.”
Trisha could almost picture the smile on her friend’s gorgeous face, she sounded happy. A tiny pang centered in the blackest corner of her heart. Not that she wasn’t happy for Betty, she was, but Betty had proven her theory wrong.
Not all men deserved to be neutered.
Like it or not, Gerard was a nice guy and made her friend happy. Trisha would have bet her life’s savings the first time she’d met him that he was just another wolf in sheep’s clothing, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he adored Betty.
“How long this time?” She twisted the phone cord around her finger.
“A day.”
Dropping her head to her chest, she sighed. “Oh.”
“Trish, honey, you okay? You seem down.”
Way too close to home. Straightening her spine, she assumed the mask she always wore—the one that laughed and breathed and lived and didn’t ever fracture.
“Me? Pft, whateves… You know I just miss ya. Anyways, what’s up?”
There was a long enough pause that Trisha thought maybe she’d laid it on too thick. “Well,” Betty drawled, “Gerard and I kind of have some things to tell you.”