The Girl Who Fell (36 page)

As I walk to the car, my feet crunching snow, I breathe in the icy air. It makes me feel awake for the first time in a long time.

I am again that girl, walking across the Boston College campus, my future so clear.

I get in the car and start the ignition.

“Miss me?” The words reach me from the backseat.

I jump, my head nearly hitting the car's ceiling. My heart thuds outside of my body.

“Miss me?” Alec repeats from the backseat. Through the rearview mirror, I see he's smiling.

Fear vines around my ribs. “How are you here?”

He leans forward. “Surprise is important in a relationship.”

I adjust Mom's rearview mirror. “We're not in a relationship.”

“You've made that clear.”

“I'm not alone. My parents will be out any minute.”

“Why are you lying, Zephyr? I saw your mom give you the keys.”

He grabs the back of my hair and twists my head toward him. He gives me a quick, rough kiss, his teeth crashing against mine. I fumble with the keys in the ignition, calculate my chances of running across the ice and back into the reception hall, but it would be impossible in these heels.

“Drive.” He pulls my hair tighter and I turn the key. “We need to talk.”

“Alec. Don't do this.”

“Please don't tell me what to do.” His teeth are clenched. His anger brewing.

“Okay. I'll drive.”

He climbs into the front, slips his hand into my coat. He thrusts open the flaps to study my dress. I feel his palm skate over my breast. He lets out a low whistle. “Your place.”

I turn on the wipers and can see through the windows of the hotel, all the guests dancing. I hate putting the car in gear.

“So you had a good time?” He traces a circle into the cold windshield.

Fear erases everything before this moment. “It was okay.” I catalog the whereabouts of my cell phone. Deep in my peacoat. My parents too far away. Gregg, oblivious. It is just me. Me and Alec.

I pull onto the road.

“I see your father's back. Looks like everything's working out for you, huh?”

“He was here for my mom.” I adjust the wipers, fumble for control.

“That's cool. I like weddings. I like the commitment. How two people promise themselves to one another. Remember when we did that?”

“Alec—”

“Don't. We need to talk but not while you're driving. I want you safe, Zephyr, and the roads are bad.” He turns up the music. I drive slowly.

When we reach my house, Alec follows me in. He takes off his jacket. I pull mine tight around me.

“Take your coat off, Zephyr. I need to see that dress.”

“Alec, what are you doing?”

He moves to me, slips one shoulder free of my coat, then another. The air on my skin feels wrong, invasive. He drops my coat to the floor. His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, the length of my arm. Gooseflesh rises, but not the way it used to.

“Alec, you don't want to do this.”

“Don't make the mistake of telling me what I want.”

“You're scaring me.”

He laughs. “I'm scaring you? You bailed on our future together. You don't think that's a little scary? To trust you like I did and then”—
smack
—his two palms slam together right in front of my face, barely missing the tip of my nose. I step back, stumble over my coat in a heap.

Alec catches me, his hand around my waist. “Do you have any idea how much I've done for you, Zephyr? How much I would still do for you?”

I slink away from him, move to the sink, brace my hands against its lip.

He drags his fingers through his hair. “I saw you dancing with Gregg. I saw him shove his tongue down your throat. I saw you
let
him shove his tongue down your throat.” He lunges toward me then, grabbing my arm too hard.

“I don't know what you think you sa—”

“DO NOT lie to me!” His face consumes mine. He harvests a deep breath, makes a study of my cleavage before running a finger down the path from my neck, through my chest. “Look at you, practically naked. No wonder he thought he could fuck you.”

“Stop!” I try to wrestle my arm free, but he only grips tighter.

“You said I could trust you. You
made
me trust you and now you're dressing like a whore and hooking up with someone who's wanted to get in your pants for years.”

His fingers dig deeper into my flesh, redirecting blood flow. “You're hurting me.”

“Hah!
I'm
hurting
you
? How do you think it felt to see you sucking face with Gregg?”

My primal brain orders flight or fight. I spy the knife block on the counter. “Let go,” I say, and his hold releases.

He steps back, shakes off his frustration. “Christ, Zephyr, you make me crazy. Why do you have to do that?”

“I didn't do anything.” I inch toward the knife set.

“See!” He jabs his finger at my words. “That right there. You're so good at playing innocent. And then I get nuts because I don't know what to believe.” His step swallows the space between us. I smell the mint of his shampoo and I flash to that first day. Before I know it, his hands creep around my waist. “Forgive me,” he begs. “I just want you back.”

“Alec, this isn't good for either of us.”

Alec caresses the cut of my jaw, the softness of my cheek. “You are so beautiful.” His fingers travel along the span of my collarbone, up the tight angled curve of my neck. My body cringes. My breath comes shallow and rapid.

“You like that, don't you?”

I brace myself against the counter, inching closer to the knives.

Then the air pulses quiet for just a breath. His body releases from mine. Gone is his feather touch. There is only me and silence and Alec and stillness. I focus on Alec in this slip of time. How his arm raises, his elbow becomes a sharp point hovering. “So why would you leave me?” He drives his angular elbow into my skull. A hole is drilled somewhere above my ear. My head rings. Bells fill the hollowed-out space. I feel myself slipping down the length of the cabinets, my dress hooking on a drawer pull. I hear the fabric rip away from itself, a soft screech. I crumple to the floor, my head a basin filling with the rushing tide of terror.

A word sits on my tongue.
No? Don't?
I can't form my defense. The room kinks. Speech abandons me. My ears drum. I think there is no greater pain possible until a spike drives through my side, slamming my ribs. His shoe. The kick is a stake. Planted. Executed. I crunch into the agony, my brain crowded with all the words I cannot scream. A black rage erupts under my skin, under the footprint Alec has gouged into my side. I bite on my lip and taste the copper blood trickle on my tongue.

Words reach me. “You make me do this, Zephyr. You just couldn't love me enough to keep Slice's tongue out of your mouth, could you?”

The gravel of sound shakes free from my tongue, harsh as sandpaper. “Get out!” My skull explodes with pain. “Get out!”

His hands are on my arms then, propping me up. “I'm so sorry. . . .”

Blackness.

Then I'm in his arms, my head on his lap. “Talk to me, Zephyr. . . .”

Blackness washing.

“I love you so much.” His voice strangled with fear.

I rock.

He's rocking me.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, but I have to protect you. We planned a life together, Zephyr. You can't give it away to another guy.”

A deeper blackness.

I surrender.

Welcoming the way it swallows me and the pain all at once.

But there's a girl inside, too long silent. She wants a fight.

She raises my hand to my head and tries to press away the sharp ache, but it only makes me cry out in pain.

“Zephyr, let me help you.”

“Leave. Now.” My voice and her voice combine in a groan. Then she says, “I'll call the police.”

And I am proud of her, a light of strength in this darkness.

Alec laughs, but looks confused. “It's me, Alec. Your future. Remember? What do you need the cops for?”

Her strength begins to leave me and I fear her absence. “Get. Out. Now.”

He stands, stumbles back unsteady. “I'll let you get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow.” And he walks out the door.

As if we've just ended a normal date.

As if I am not broken.

As if he has not shattered me.

I listen to the fridge hum for a thousand years. Shame drenches me. I am slick with stupidity. For throwing away my future for Alec.

I struggle to stand, carefully carrying the fireworks of pain. It takes too long to make it to my room, using the wall for support. Tears drain off my cheeks, a wet trail.

I shimmy out of my dress, hating it as it slides to my ankles. I burrow into a T-shirt and crawl into bed, every movement grueling.

I close my eyes and catalog my injuries. My skull. Ribs. Places others can't see. He was precise, and I am glad for the careful placement of my wreckages. So I don't need to show the world my shame.

I wake to the smell of bacon and panic. Is Mom home? Is there blood on the cabinets? The night crashes back to me with too much clarity. I press my fingers to the golf ball pounding under my scalp.

Then Lizzie's voice.

So close.

“Zee, it's me. “I made you some food.”

Her kind tone coaxes me to sit upright. I find I am in my room, surrounded by the familiar. Photos on my wall. My record player. Clothes. Lizzie.

And a tray on my bureau, with eggs and bacon and a small bowl of yogurt.

The smells turn my stomach as bits of Alec crash into my head. I reach for the water on my bedside table.

Lizzie leans in. “Just take it slow.”

I take a sip and rest against my pillows. My side yelps.

“How bad is it?” Lizzie asks.

“It hurts.” A squeak.

A song rises from the kitchen. Cee Lo. Faint, but Cee Lo.
I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love and I'm like, Fuck You!

Lizzie gives a guilty shrug. “I couldn't resist.”

My phone. Still in the pocket of my jacket. Is my jacket still in a heap on the kitchen floor? The way I was?

Lizzie strokes my leg. “Alec could have really hurt you, Zephyr.”

“He did hurt me.”

“You know what I mean.”

I do.

“Do you remember what happened?”

I remember too much. “How did you know to come?”

“When you didn't text me, I called Slice. He said you'd left.”

The wedding. The kiss. Alec waiting in Mom's car.

“Do you remember me coming over?”

I remember falling to the floor, Alec begging me to forgive him. I remember blacking out and coming to. And blacking out. “I remember something cold, and hearing your voice.”

“I wanted to call the police, Zee, but you wouldn't let me. I still think we should.”

“No,” I say quickly.

The phone rings again. Alec.

Lizzie stands, paces. “Don't let him get away with this, Zephyr.” She tucks back a string of her pixie white hair. “He beat you, Zee. For no reason.”

“Not no reason.”

A scoff. “Please don't tell me you think he was justified.”

“No. Of course not. But I kissed Gregg. Alec saw us.”

“I don't care if he saw you and Slice having sex. Nothing gives him the right to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, Lizzie. It's just—”

“Please be careful how you finish that sentence.”

The tears start now. Full and round, pooling in the corners of my eyes. The thoughts that tortured me all last night as I slipped in and out of awareness. “Shouldn't I have seen this coming? What is wrong with me that I let this happen? He was supposed to be perfect. I loved him, Lizzie. I gave him everything.”

He reaches out to me again, my phone singing in the background.

Lizzie kneels at my bedside. “There is
nothing
wrong with you, Zephyr, and he's far from perfect. He's the asshole here, not you.”

I pull my covers tight around my chest. “I can't have anyone know.”

“You can't be silent about this, Zee.”

“But I can't tell anyone, either. Then they'll know that I'm the idiot who fell for the wrong guy, and that I let him take too much. I can't, Lizzie. It's been hard enough admitting that to you and my parents; I can't have the school knowing.” Tears conquer me. “Don't make me do that. I won't survive the shame.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. This isn't on you.” She stands quiet, thinking. “What's going to happen when you see him in school?”

“I don't know.”

“How are you going to explain the fact that you can barely walk?”

I pull a tissue from the box, wipe my face. “I don't know.”

Lizzie sighs out a long breath. “You're sure you were clear with him? That it's totally over?”

I swallow hard. “Yes. Of course. That's why he's pissed.”

“Is there any way he thinks you'll forgive him again?”

Again.

It is a word.

An accusation.

My failure.

“No way.”

“Okay, I'll stay quiet. I won't say anything until you're ready.” She collapses into my desk chair, taps the top of the Boston College catalog. “You can recover from this, you know.”

I thought I could, but now? “Can I?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and the muscles around my ribs shriek. I push onto my feet. Lizzie half stands to help me, her arms extended, but I wave her away. I slip one foot in front of the other, my spine realigning, my muscles stretching into this newly reordered skin.

Lizzie follows me as I amble to the kitchen and swallow hard against every wrong decision I've made. Alec's constant calling is a soundtrack to my bad choices. I bend to my jacket, stroke its sleeve. When Cee Lo calls to me so close, I jump. As if the phone discharged an electric shock. Under my skin, scorching my bones. I pull out the phone, my thumb hovering over the irony of the word “accept.”