Page 90 of Forbidden Eyes
Twenty-Six
The humid air cloys at my skin, but I don’t move. I’m rooted to this spot, the water lapping around me as I stare at the door, waiting for Carter to turn around and come back. To take back those words he spat at me so harshly. He’s managed to take everything in my world and piece it together with a sense of meaning, before shattering it all over again in the space of a few minutes. The list of emotions he’s dragged me through since meeting him rivals a dictionary, and I hate him for it. At least I want to.
Gooseflesh creeps over my shoulders and runs down my skin, chilling me despite the temperature. He’s not coming back, is he? That’s just the naive girl hoping, and I’ve run out of hope. The tale where Prince Charming rescues the heroine seemed to be our story to begin with. He was my saviour in real life and not just a fantasy. But now my eyes are firmly open, and I know that the real world is full of monsters and villains who corrupt and lie and hide in plain sight.
My father is one of them.
Out of nowhere, I raise my arms and smash them down into the water, attacking it as if it’s caused me real harm. My fists ball and pound through the surface splashing the water, and I scream. It's a long, drawn-out wail that releases all of the pain and hurt, and it's aimed at all the people around me. It echoes in the pool room, sounding ten times louder than I ever thought possible. My cry deafens me, and I’m sure someone will come running. They must because the anguish and hurt in that sound couldn’t be ignored, surely?
After my outburst has calmed and the energy has been sapped from my arms, all I can think of is curling up in a ball. A warm, safe ball so I can sleep through this nightmare. I haul my body from the pool and gather the robe I was so eager to discard when I came in here. The fabric encases me in warmth, and I cling to the margin of comfort, pulling it even tighter to me as if the material can physically hold me together until I’ve found the strength to do it myself.
My shoulders hunch and I keep my head down as I navigate back through to the house and up to my room. Hiding from Mom is out of the question. She’ll take one look at me and want to know what happened. It will just be easier to tell her, explain the situation and then move on.
Move. On.
The thought chokes me, and I rush into our room and fling open the bathroom door, falling to my knees to retch into the toilet.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Mom rushes to me, concern like crystal in her voice.
I keep my head over the bowl, even though I know I won’t be sick, and eventually the wave of nausea begins to subside. Taking a deep breath, I sit back on my knees and try forcing myself to face this.
Mom crowds me, grabbing my shoulders and rubbing them, bringing warmth back to my skin. She doesn’t say anything more and waits for me to explain further.
“A little light-headed. Too much swimming,” I mumble, trying not to look at her. I squeeze her hand, and head to the sink to scrub my teeth. “I’d like to take a shower. Rinse the chlorine out of my hair."
“Sure, baby” she says, eyeing me suspiciously. There's no way this conversation will be over until she’s satisfied.
I hide under the shower, scrubbing every inch of my skin and doubling up on every part that Carter touched. If he’s calling whatever was between us over then I don’t want to be the girl left pining. I won’t be that person. I’ve waited all this time and thought that because I’d waited, not jumped at the first guy who showed interest in me like other girls do, that I knew how to handle my heart, that I could trust in the feelings that are so vivid, so encompassing. It seems I’ve still managed to make a fool of myself.
As with the pool room, I take the warm robe on the back of the door and pull it around me, nestling inside before venturing out to face Mom. She’s propped up in bed reading something on her tablet. “Hey. Feel better?” She pulls the pillow-like bedspread back, welcoming me, and I seize it.
“Much.”
“Great. Well, I’m ready whenever you want to tell me what’s really going on.”
Shit.
I puff the covers around me, distracting myself with anything and everything before facing the truth. Because admitting things out loud, at least in my own logic, will make them more real. Permanent.
“You went to see Carter, right?” she starts.
“Yes.”
“Shall I assume, from your complete reluctance to speak, that things didn’t go how you’d have wanted?”
“You could say that.” I fight the urge to break into tears and grit my teeth to force back the emotion.
“Well, what did he say? I can’t help if you won’t tell me what the problem is.”
“It’s fine, Mom. There’s nothing for you to help with. He’s told me he doesn’t want to see me again. He made it really clear, so, I just… have to…” My words stick in my throat, and despite all my steadfast intentions, my cheeks catch the tears that constantly seem to fall.
“Come here.” She opens her arms, and I snuggle into her, happy to shield my face.
“Did you sleep with him?”
Her frank question surprises me, but there’s no question I’ll try to hide it from her. What's the point? She probably knows anyway, and although we’ve never needed to talk about boys in the past, I guess we can now.
“We both wanted it," I eventually say, quietly. "That wasn’t the problem. It’s everything else he can’t cope with. My family putting his family in danger. It’s an easy decision against what he’s got to lose, I suppose. He doesn’t really know me anyway. And there was always the chance he was using me. I just hoped I’d be wrong about that.”