Kissed (The Thorn Chronicles) (7 page)

I breathed in, the scent of a sweet and spicy rose filling my every pore. In spite of my forced slumber, I took control this time, needing to forget my day. My fingers caressed his face, pricked by his stubble as I drew his face toward mine.

Something changed as our lips touched. It wasn’t sweet or innocent, but raw and needy. It tasted of a dark chocolate. Our lips pressed urgently together and my head buzzed with emotion. I felt his tongue slide across my lower lip and I shivered. My hands wove into his hair and I held him close. My eyelids fluttered and I saw his face for the first time. I gasped. He opened his eyes and the warm brown met mine for only a second before he disappeared.

He was everything I’d imagined him to be. He was the brown haired boy from school.

#

Tentatively, I sat up. Along the edges of my bed, dried blood stained the sheets. It seemed impossible that my back sustained that much and the pain was gone. Facing the mirror I turned around and lifted up my shirt, not a scratch or even a red mark. I took a deep breath. Who was Kai that he could do such amazing things? On my shelf was a small sweet smelling white rose. He left a note again.

Give me one week.

Then I’ll take you away from this hell.

I promise.

-Kai

After stripping the sheets from the bed, I curled up and a dreamless sleep took me.

#

When I got home from school the next day I was surprised to see my father’s car in the driveway. He was not usually home so early.

Father sat at the table, his fists clenched and his face red. Mother sat next to him looking grim. I nodded at him, hoping to escape to my room without a scene. Surely the beating last night was sufficient. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed me by my arm and dragged me to my room. I stumbled along and knocked over the vase with the peacock feathers. The vase cracked, but my father didn’t even look back. He opened the door and shoved me in, his eyes narrow with fury.

“Tonight,” he growled, “you will stay here. The windows are locked from the outside and so is your door.”

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Why?”

Then his face split into an evil grin. “Tonight I become a true Destroyer,” he said and slammed the door. The lock clicked. What the heck was a Destroyer? This was the night that he’d talked about, the one that will make him a warrior. He was going to do something horrid to a girl. I shivered. There was nothing I could do about it.

On the way over to my bed, I tripped on something next to my dresser. I looked down. A book poked out from under the dresser. Hmm. It was pretty well stuck, but I shimmied it out. It was a large black photo album. I carried it over to my bed and sat down.

The first page had four pictures, babies. Underneath each picture was scrawled my name and a date. The handwriting was Father’s.

I turned the page. Four more pictures. This time my mother and father held me. A couple of other pictures had my grandma in them. Tears pricked at my eyes as I remembered her. A couple of pages later I was about three. My hair color was a soft brown. I’d forgotten. In one picture my mother held me, my hand grasped around a chocolate bar. On the other side of me a woman laughed. She was about the same height as my mother and shared her features. Ginny, maybe.

Four pages later I froze. It was the last picture in the book, taken on my eighth birthday.

“Naomi, what kind of cake do you want?” Daddy asked. He sat at the kitchen table cleaning out his tackle box.

“Chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

He rolled eyes and laughed. “Hear that Mom? She wants chocolate. Maybe you can put chocolate chips in the batter.”

“And M&M’s,” I chirped.

Mother didn’t acknowledge the conversation at all.

“What time will you be home?” she asked.

“About one. We’ll bring fish.”

“And a turtle. Daddy said if I caught one, I could keep it as a pet.”

Mother grimaced. She didn’t like pets.

“Have fun. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

That was the last time he took me camping. Mother did make me a chocolate cake, but it didn’t have chocolate chips or M&M’s. I’d forgotten what he was like. Before he went crazy, he was my best friend. And he’d never laid a hand on me. What had happened?

I hid the picture album between my mattresses and fell asleep. Kai didn’t come.

#

The next evening at dinner, Father looked awful. There were dark circles etched underneath his eyes and he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. Mother looked better, but she too looked tired. I shivered when I thought about what they’d done.

Dinner was roast beef sandwiches with au jus. My sandwich was missing the cheese and I wasn’t allowed to use the au jus. I snorted at the injustice. Father’s eyes snapped up to mine.

“Do you have something to say?” he asked.

“No,” I mumbled and kept my head down. If I could just keep my mouth shut I’d be out of here soon. But, if I kept pushing limits I might end up dead before rescue came.

“Father has something to tell you,” said Mother.

“The wedding will be tomorrow.”

My heart tightened. I should run. How far could I make it before they found me and murdered me? They wouldn’t expect me to run so I’d get a few minutes head start. But then I thought of Kai and the fact that I did want to live. If I could just make it through a few more days, rescue would come and I’d be safe. But could he rescue me from Dwayne? Could I find a way to postpone the wedding? Tomorrow was too early.

I’d hesitated too long. Both Father and Mother were watching me carefully. If I ran now, I’d be caught before I made it to the front door.

Father must’ve read my thoughts because he grabbed my arm and dragged me to my room. He shoved me in and I felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Tomorrow will be your wedding,” he said and he slammed the door.

“No,” I cried, running to the door and slamming it with my fists. “No, no, no, no.” I continued pounding. And then the sobs came. Sobs for the sheer unfairness of everything. I sank to the floor letting my head bump against the door. Time was up. Tomorrow I would be in Dwayne’s house, sharing his bed. Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed, not wanting to spend the night with the stench.

Kai would be too late. No one could save me now. What would I do? Not that I wanted to do anything now anyway. Death was obviously in my future, the sooner the better. If only it could be here instead of with that foul Dwayne.

I looked over my room, knowing that tonight would be the end of it. The evidence of my father’s fury two nights ago was everywhere. A hole gaped in the wall, marring the sky blue shade my mother had painted it years ago. My antique chairs lay in splinters on the floor by my window. My dressers sat on opposite walls untouched. My eyes fell on the rose Kai left that night. It mocked me with its hope. My life was over.

I tried to sleep. Visions of Dwayne, my father, and Ruth swirled in my head. Eventually the waking nightmares turned into blurred images and I fell asleep. Again Kai failed to show up. Where was he?

#

My stomach filled with dread. Today I would marry Dwayne.

No, I would not. I would fight my curse with the same courage Ruth had for standing up to her father. What could I do? I listened at my door. Nothing. No sounds of Mother cooking or Father rummaging around in his office. Escape. I needed to escape. Well, not escape, that would be impossible, but how could I make it harder for them to get to me?

My dresser sat on the far wall. I eyed it. It looked heavy but possible. I planted myself on the opposite side of the dresser and pushed. Instead of the dresser moving, my stocking feet slid on the hardwood floor, and I landed on my knees.
Come on girl, Ruth would want you to fight
. I dug a pair of shoes out of my closet and put them on. The dresser was still too heavy. I shimmied out the drawers and placed them on my bed. The dresser moved easily then. I pushed it over to the door watching with glee as it left huge gashes in the floor. Happy with its new location, I replaced all the drawers. They would have a hard time opening the door with that in front of it.

My other dresser wasn’t as heavy, but I still had to remove all the drawers. I shoved it up against the first one. Then I heaved the mattresses off of my bed and pushed the bed in front of the dressers. I sat down on my bed, breathing hard. I turned and eyed my handy work. It would take them hours to work through that mess.

Then the door handle jiggled and a fist pounded on the door. I finally vomited up everything I ate the day before. Panic overwhelmed me. I crawled to my closet, climbed on top of shoes and old clothes. My face obscured by long denim skirts, I shut the door and waited.

Time moves slowly when you are scared. I sat shaking in the small closet. Silently, I pulled skirts and shirts off the hangers and covered myself in them, leaving only my face visible so I could breathe. If they can’t find me, will they leave and give me time to escape? I listened carefully for the door to the closet to move. Nothing but lots of banging out in the hallway. Voices, both male and female, floated around. Muffled though, so I couldn’t understand what was said. Then I heard the creak and whine of my window opening.

How could I have forgotten about the window?

“Who locks their windows from the outside?” A female voice, cold and unfamiliar.

“A psycho. The more we find, the weirder this gets.” A male voice, again unknown.

Then, suddenly, the closet door opened. I blinked in the bright light. A shadowed shape crouched down.

“Naomi—?”

I nodded.

“I’m Detective Jensen. Why don’t you come with me?

A half hour later, I found myself wrapped in a blanket sitting at my kitchen table with Detective Jensen. Her sharp blue eyes took in everything, from the cracked linoleum to creaking chairs. Four or five other official looking men hurried around the house, taking pictures and putting things in boxes. The detective didn’t say much. She just sat with me and barked orders to her cohorts. After a while, another woman showed up.

She had faded brown hair and an age-worn business suit. Her eyes were tired and haunted. When she spoke, every sentence ended with a sigh.

“Naomi, I’m Andrea, your social worker,” she sighed.

I smiled but didn’t respond. My position was precarious. I was fairly certain my parents had been arrested for whatever they did to that girl, but I had no idea what else had happened. Nor, did I know what they intended to do with me. And until I understood that, silence was my best option.

Andrea waited for a long minute then started speaking again.

“We’ve found you a place to stay that isn’t a group home.” Sigh. Pause.

I didn’t take the bait.

“Which is a miracle in itself. You are lucky you have good friends who return calls.”

Ruth? My heart quickened.

“We don’t have time today to fill out all the paperwork, but the family will bring you to Fayetteville tomorrow to make sure everything is in order.” Sigh.

Now was the time to speak. “May I gather a few of my things? And I’d like to visit my roses before I leave.”

She nodded. And yawned.

Her black flats slapped the floor as she walked out of the room. I waited until I heard the front door slam, and then slunk down the hall. I paused in front of my father’s office. This was Grandma’s room before she died. Since then, this was the one room my mother never touched, the door often locked. Today the door had been torn off of its hinges and the majority of the room’s contents taken. Left on the wall, though, was evidence of my father’s obsession. Hundreds of newspapers articles, from floor to ceiling, all proclaiming one sin or another that America would pay for in blood; homosexuality, abortion, gambling, pornography, and any race that was not pure white. I grimaced at a picture of a dismembered baby and paused at the article next to it. The glossy paper must’ve been torn from a magazine, instead of a newspaper.

In the center of the picture sat a young man. He hugged his knees to his chest with hands that had painted black nails. His entire outfit was nearly all black, from the chunky boots to the half ripped t-shirt. I leaned closer to the picture. He had thick eyeliner and his hair stuck up in four-inch spikes, tipped with violet. I peeled the picture off of the wall, the picture of a boy who defined rebellion. The kind that I could never pull off.

I folded the article carefully and slid it into a pocket. The detectives managed a path into my room, but it still wasn’t easy to get a few things out of my dresser. I packed a small suitcase and found my old tennis shoes, the ones I hid the money from Ginny in. I shoved the money in my sock, wanting it close to me in case I needed to escape, then I hurried out to my flowers.

Inside the greenhouse, the pale Colette’s hung low, reaching for me, wanting attention. I pushed them away and walked past my Child’s play, Pascali, and the Angel Face Rose Tree I had started. Past the hybrid teas and china roses and straight to my spicy roses. I stuck my nose in the soft bloom of a Double Delight. Inhaling, I hoped to smell the familiar scent of Kai, but was met with disappointment instead. Although close, it was not the same. I reached over and pulled down a pink Elle. Nope, not the same, but I was getting closer. A bright red Dragon’s Eye peeked out from behind the Daphne. Again I stuck my nose in it, but the scent was too soft. Wrong.

The horn honked. My poor flowers. While I headed off to my new home, my French Lace would wilt and die. Along with my Marys, Medallions, and other roses Grandma and I had spent years nursing. The brilliant pinks, purples, and reds would all become a dull brown in a matter of weeks. So much death. All my friends.

I didn’t hide my tears as I shut the passenger door, unsure of why I was crying. It could’ve been because I hated what my parents had done, or the fear of the real world, but most likely I cried because my flowers were going to die. Andrea gave me a look of pity but didn’t say anything. Dust billowed as the car crunched along the familiar dirt road. The car moved slowly, as if reluctant to take me away from my home, but that may have been because Andrea didn’t want to damage her shiny new Cadillac. At the corner of Riverside and Big River Road she stopped and doubled checked her GPS. I knew she wanted to turn right, find that solid paved surface again, but the GPS clearly pointed her straight, no end to the dusty road. She grimaced and continued driving.