Change Of Season (46 page)

"She hasn’t been herself for a while," her mother added quietly.  "She’s more herself lately, and I know you’ve played a role in that by how she looks at you."

"Thank you, Andrew.  Seriously."  Autumn brushed a tear away.  Her father sounded so... overwhelmed.

"She gives me just as much," Andrew said.

Edging back several steps, she again moved forward, stomping her feet slightly to signal her arrival.  Sure enough, they’d scattered to all corners of the living room by the time she turned the corner, gift bags in hand.

"Alright, let’s do this!"

Her parents went first, as they always did, exchanging their gifts for each other quickly before turning their attention to the teenagers.  In addition to donations for Kids Help Phone – Autumn’s choice charity – they’d bought Andrew the Daryl action figure from
The Walking Dead
, earning hoots when he and Autumn noticed the string of squirrels in the accessories.

"This is so awesome!  Thank you!" 

Autumn’s gift was far beyond the normal price restriction, but her parents insisted it was well-deserved.  Tearing into the wrapping paper, she nearly dropped the box in surprise.

"The Kobo Vox?  You really went overboard this year."

Neil shrugged.  "You love to read, and with you traveling back and forth now, carting books is silly.  We figured if we were going to splurge on an e-reader, might as well go all the way.  We also got you a gift card so you can start loading it up."

"Thank you so much.  This is amazing!"  Autumn hugged each of her parents in turn, setting her gift aside and passing out her offering in return.  "I donated to Broadbent like you requested.  Joint gift this year."

Her parents gushed over the artwork, as she knew they would: they loved anything with a political edge, and Dora’s painting captured elements of gender and societal expectations through subtle overlays of news clippings and images blended into the piece. 

"And for you," Autumn said, turning around to pass Andrew a bag, "a gift I hope you’ll enjoy."

Andrew pawed through the tissue paper, grinning as he pulled out the softcover book.  "
The Walking Dead
comics!  You remembered me saying that I’d never read them?"

"Of course!  The doll was coordinated," she added happily.  "I got you the first few volumes, so you’ll be around where the show’s at now."

He kissed her cheek and thanked her before reaching for two envelopes on a nearby table.  Passing one to her parents, he held the other back, waving it as a taunt.  Autumn pouted, staring him down.  It didn’t work.

"Oh we love this restaurant!" Sarah gushed, glancing at the gift card.  "Thank you, Andrew."

"Autumn mentioned that you went there often as a family.  And for you Miss Brody, something I hope you’ll love."

Tearing carefully into the envelope, Autumn slid her fingers in, immediately recognizing the feel of the paper inside. 
Tickets
.  Pulling them free, she suddenly felt faint.

"Jack’s Mannequin?  But it’s a school night!"

"Whatever. We’ll sign you out," Neil said.  "That’s your favourite band, right?  Well played, Andrew."

"Oh my God!  I thought I’d have to miss this tour.  It hurt my soul to think of it...  Wait.  Four tickets?"  Autumn glanced up suddenly, confused.  "What’s going on?"

"Veronica.  Evan.  You.  Me, I hope?" Andrew grinned.

"As if there was any doubt!"  Tears fell unbidden as she threw her arms around his neck, parents be damned.  "You are so good to me.  You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I do," he replied softly.  "Music’s your oxygen.  Doesn’t Andy McMahon have a song about breathing?"

Autumn nodded enthusiastically.  "Yes, yes he does.  I...  I have to sit down."  She sank into the chair beside her, staring at the tickets.  "I can’t even express how grateful I am.  You too, Mom and Dad.  I love you very much."

"We’re grateful, too," Sarah said quietly.  "Now, before we all cry into our drinks, I think it’s movie time.  Did you tell him Autumn?"

Sniffling, she shook her head.  "I assume he’ll be fine, in light of
Zombieland
being a movie in his collection."

"What are we watching?"

Neil grinned.  "Why, only the best Christmas film ever: 
Scrooged
!"

Andrew glanced over at Autumn, who confirmed this with a smile.  Shaking his head, he chuckled.

"I freaking love your family."

December 25th; 1:37 a.m.

The shrill tone exploded in Autumn’s skull, jarring her from sleep.  Clutching her chest, she glanced around in confusion, struggling to identify it.  The sound of footsteps in the hall triggered a memory: 
the intruder alarm
. 

Someone had broken into her home. 

Choking on a sob, she crept to her bedroom door, opening it a crack.  Faintly, a dog could be heard barking from a nearby house.  Pandora cowered on her bed, ears pressed back in annoyance.

"Get back in your room," her father hissed, phone in hand.  "The police are coming."

"Daddy?"

"Go!"  Andrew opened his door and Neil waved him over.  "Stay with her.  Police are coming."

She slid aside, granting Andrew access before shutting her door.  She pressed her ear to the wood, listening for signs of movement below. 
He knows
. 
He saw him.  He’s back for you
.  The bees droned their warnings, flooding her mind with violent images:  her father, struck from behind.  Her mother cowering in terror.  Her own battered frame, crumpled beneath his angry fists.

It had to be Chris. 
I promise you that something far worse will happen to you or someone you care about.  You will keep your fucking mouth shut. 
She’d told.  Emma’s phone calls had gotten back to him.  He knew.

"Autumn, come sit down on the bed," Andrew insisted.

"No, no. no..." 

Pressing her palms over her ears, she slid to the floor, trapped in her memories.  The truck.  Fixing her make-up.  Persephone’s blood seeping into her clothes, staining her hands.  The locker, and the sickening sound it made as her head slammed backwards.  Metallic ringing.  His hands on her body, her stomach in knots. 
Wasn’t love supposed to feel good
?

"Autumn, please, tell me what to do," Andrew pleaded beyond the din.

"Nowhere to hide," she whimpered.  "Can’t hide.... Have to..."

Instincts engaged and she crawled past him, moved around the corner wall and slid open her closet. 
Darkness
.  She had to be smaller.  She was such an easy target.  Her hands pushed items aside, clearing space and in she went, knees drawn to her chest. 

You can’t hide from me.  I know where you live.  I know everything about you. 

"Daddy..."

"He’ll be okay, baby.  Let me come in there."

Autumn nodded furiously, remembering
his
words.  If he found Andrew, he’d kill him.  She couldn’t lose him.  She couldn’t lose anyone.  His arms wrapped around her, drawing her against his chest as she silently wept.  Her heart was deafening, fits and starts, sonic booms in her skull.  Sirens harmonized with the intruder alert and she fell slack. 
Hurry.  Faster.

More footsteps beyond her door.  She clung tighter, burrowing in Andrew’s chest, the flashbacks coming fast and furious.  Every slap, every bruise, every shout and threat:  they assailed her from all angles, her body wracked in phantom pains.  Every time she’d held a razor to her wrist, considering her escape... Every time she’d counted her pills, calculating lethality...  It was all happening now.  Again.

"Shh..."  Andrew smoothed her hair, reaching through the mire.  "I’m here.  I won’t leave you."

But she was leaving him.  Fists and wailing sirens and droning voices promising her demise and then mercifully, all was black.

***

By the time the police and paramedics had cleared out, the clock on the microwave read 3:49 and Autumn was drained.  The only bright spot in the entire miserable experience – aside from no one being harmed – was Andrew convincing her parents not to take her to the hospital. 

Thank fucking God or Goddess or whatever for him
. 

The police had found no one inside and no signs of successful entry – only a broken window lock and the outer pane slid upwards.  This had set off the motion sensors, triggering the alert and automatic police dispatch.  Prints were dusted for, forensics surprisingly efficient, but they were doubtful of finding anything useful.

"Probably someone desperate at Christmas to find gifts for his family," the cops had concluded. 

Autumn knew better.  And yet, she remained mute. 
You will keep your fucking mouth shut. 

Her eyes fluttered against the Ativan, desperately afraid of what was to come.  She’d fought taking it, but it was the condition her father insisted on if she refused the hospital.  She sat at the dining room table now, her head lolling and alternately startling alert, her vision cloudy.

"Baby, you need to go to bed.  They’re leaving any minute," her mother said quietly.

"No... Have to stay... awake..."

"Autumn, you need rest."  Her father was firm on this.  He’d fought hard to send her to the hospital for evaluation.  Her collapse had shaken him badly.

"Can’t sleep..." 

It wasn’t their fault.  They didn’t know who they were dealing with.  But she knew, all too well. 

"Neil, maybe she’s afraid to be alone?" 

"You’re thinking-"

"Yes."

Autumn’s head slumped and she pinched her arm angrily.  Everything was so confusing.  Stuttered.  Seconds lost between moments.  No coherency.

"Autumn, will you go to sleep if Andrew’s with you?" her father asked.

I can protect him if he’s with me.  Yes.  Yes, I can. 

"Uh-huh... Can’t... no sleep..."

It was hard to speak.  Colours swirled as she opened and closed her eyes, shooting star trails.  No wishing on these stars. 

Time shattered:  she was cradled in strong arms.  She was in her bed.  Words... something about trust... love... there was love somewhere.  Love wasn’t enough.  Didn’t they hear the voices say so?  Blankets, warmth...  Darkness anew.  Arms around her, steady heart beneath her ear.  A metronome, steadying her psyche.

"Sleep.  Just sleep."

Cotton-mouthed.  Tongue-tied.  Quicksand claiming her fast.

"I won’t let him hurt you ever again... I promise."

A kiss from her Prince.  Sleeping beauty.

11:21a.m.

Autumn’s eyes ached as they fluttered open, swollen from her terrified crying the night before.  Cursing the swaths of light cutting between the slats of her blinds, she glanced behind her and sighed in relief.  Andrew’s chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, his right arm crossing his chest to graze her own.  His left  remained burrowed beneath her neck. 
Alive.
  Slowly pushing herself to a seated position, she noted her bedroom door was ajar. A small smile met this sight: the parental compromise of boyfriend in bedroom, but privacy forbidden.  Not like she was foolish enough to engage in anything of that nature at home. 

Besides, she had more pressing matters consuming her thoughts. 

Chris had tried to break in – she knew this in her core.  But to what purpose?  Misguided chivalry?  Punishment?  Something more sinister?  All of these questions ultimately boiled down to one: in light of these possibilities, could she withhold the truth from her family any longer?

Veronica.  She’d know what to do
.  A phone call was out of the question for a private conversation such as this.  Texting would take too long.  Email, then.  Gingerly, she slid out of her bed, settling on the carpet and pulling her laptop from her bag.  She’d email Veronica the god-awful details and ask her to text a reply.  Fingers struck keys delicately so as not to disturb Andrew’s slumber and within seconds, she was logged in.

One new message awaited her.  From Heather.  Nervously, she opened it.

Hey Autumn, long time.  I haven’t heard from you since you left for school.  Where are you at now, anyway?  No one seems to know. 

I thought I’d drop a line and see if you were home for the holidays and might want to see a movie?  Or chat, or whatever.  I know I haven’t been the best of friends, but I miss you. 

Oh!  I saw Chris the other day at the mall.  Slammed right into him at Orange Julius.  He was asking about you, seemed really upset about not being able to find you.  I guess he feels like crap for just bailing last year.  Anyway, I told him you were at boarding school, but that you might be home for Christmas. 

Talk soon,

H xx

"Shit!" Autumn whispered. 

Heather didn’t know the truth – no sense in directing anger at her once close friend.  The onus lay on her and her alone.  Her parents, friends, even Andrew – all unaware of the gravity of the situation.  She’d made a choice, one born in fear and cowardice, and had paid in sanity and now the safety of those who mattered most.  If only she’d channeled Fiona’s bravery -