But they hadn’t figured it out the week she was in Sacramento, and when she’d returned to San Antonio, the nightmares had come back, too.
She hadn’t been lying to Sean completely. She really didn’t remember most of her dreams. They were flashes of the past, confusing and disconnected, mixed with things that never happened but seemed all too real. Of her past, of dead bodies, of Sean almost dying, of her brother’s coma, of the boys they’d found in Mexico, of Brad being tortured and Michael Rodriguez killing Trejo. So many acts of violence, so many victims. All those truths interspersed with vivid images, twisting everything around, so that the people she loved were dead and those who preyed on innocents celebrated.
She almost went downstairs to apologize for walking out, but she wasn’t ready to talk. And Sean wouldn’t let her just say I’m sorry and go on as if nothing had happened. That’s what she desperately wanted to do, turn back the clock and find a way to lock down her emotions before she’d talked to Sean about the case. Then he would never have known.
Maybe.
She rubbed her aching head. Sean had always been good at reading her, at knowing what she was thinking and feeling, even when she didn’t want anyone inside her head. It was wonderful and intimidating at the same time.
Instead of talking to Sean, Lucy crawled into bed and snuggled under the blankets even though the house was warm. She didn’t expect to fall asleep.
Lucy was naked. And cold. Very, very cold.
“Open your eyes, Lucy,” the voice said. The voice that haunted her in sleep. Trask.
“No.”
“Do it.”
“You’re dead. I killed you.”
He laughed. “I’m alive, Lucy. I’m alive because you think about me every day. Even when you’re not, I’m here, an itch you can’t scratch.”
Hands on her, everywhere. Touching her. Hurting her. And Trask laughing through it all. He knew he was dead, but so was she. She was dead inside. She had no life in her. She was a shell, a phony.
She would never forget. She would never be whole again. He’d torn her up, gutted her.
I wish he’d killed me.
No, no, no! She didn’t want to die. Fight back, survive. It’s only your body, he’ll never have your mind. He’ll never take your soul.
“I have a reward for you because you’re doing so well. Open your eyes, see your prize.”
She didn’t want to open her eyes, but they opened anyway. All around her were computer screens, reflecting the violence that had been done to her. And flashes of the disclaimer.
Fantasy rape role playing. All participants are actors.
No! Don’t believe it! It’s not true.
Then she saw him watching.
Sean.
He was standing there, not looking at her, but watching the multitude of videos all around the room. He saw everything. Her pain and suffering, her humiliation. How could he ever see her as she was? Maybe because this was who she was. A victim. Maybe this was why he stayed, too scared to let her go. She was broken, she was beaten, she would never be able to give Sean what he deserved. A home. A family. Happiness.
Mona Hill walked into the room. She laughed at Lucy. “Really? Tears? It’s just sex. Do you know how much money I make selling sex? Who do you think is in control? Not the men. It’s us, sweetheart. You and me. Well, me. Because I know how the game is played. And you’re just pathetic.”
She laughed and laughed and then there was silence.
There were no lights, no sounds, only Lucy shaking on the cold, filthy mattress. The door opened and she saw him.
“Please, no.”
“Your fans have voted.” Trask lifted his hand. A knife glittered in a spotlight. Because this was a show. It was Trask’s show. “You must die so I can live.”
“No!”
“Look at the audience, Lucy. Look at your biggest fan.”
She closed her eyes, but they were pried open. She was on a stage and in the audience was one person. Sean. His hands were strapped to the seats. He was forced to watch her die. And there was nothing either of them could do about it.
“Why, Lucy?” Sean cried.
Because she’d failed everyone. And here she was.
Trask took off his clothes and came toward her. “Only you can help me, Lucy. Only you.”
The sharp blade cut into her neck and blood dripped onto stained satin sheets …
She opened her mouth and screamed.
*
Sean jumped out of the chair before he was fully awake. Lucy’s screams echoed in the large house. He’d fallen asleep in his office, and as he ran up the stairs two at a time, he vaguely realized that it was three in the morning, that the house was quiet but the lights were still on.
He flung open the door of their bedroom.
Lucy was sitting on the edge of the bed, her body convulsing in violent sobs but no tears.