Seven
R I V E R
I’VE ALWAYS HEARD THAT when a ghost is nearby, you feel an impenetrable cold so strong, it soaks into your bones. And when one passes through you, it’s like inhaling ice.
The house is quiet.
There must be spirits playing dress-up with my body.
I know he’s here.
“Ryan?” I call.
What’s the point in dragging it out? The anticipation is killing me. Adrenaline thumps inside of me, and I’m ashamed to admit my hands are shaking a little. Bilby greets me from his perch on the couch, meowing quietly, followed up by a yawn. I walk over, petting his grey fur and trying my best to distract myself from the impending confrontation.
“Right here,” he says quietly. I jump, causing Bilby to jump and run from the couch. My distraction worked too well—I wasn’t expecting his voice to come from behind me. I turn and see him standing in the foyer.
I’m too startled to say anything. He takes a step forward, and I take a limp back. My hip still
hurts.
“Where have you been?” he asks darkly.
“Hanging out with Amelia.” He quirks a brow.
“Then why did Amelia say she hasn’t seen you in a week?”
He talked to her? Fuck.
Another step towards me. “Are you cheating on me?”
I shake my head, my heart racing. “No, of course not.”
“Then why the fuck are you lying to me?” he growls through his teeth, the look on his face starting to look more and more like a demon’s.
“I don’t know. Because I’m mad at you.”
His eyes widen in surprise for half a second before they narrow into thin slits. A derisive laugh trickles through his teeth.
“Mad at me? I’ve done nothing but take care of you this whole relationship. You have everything you could ask for. I’ve loved you and cared for you. I’ve only treated you how you deserved. If I’ve had to teach you a lesson when you get out of line, then that’s not my fucking fault,” he spits. Literally, too. Spittle flies out of his mouth as his anger increases.
“Do I not have free will, Ryan?”
He rears back. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t need your permission to live my life. If I want to go get a donut and take a walk in the park, then I’m fucking allowed to.”
His hand whips out so quickly, I don’t even see it coming. The sharp pain explodes across my
cheek. I cry out, clutching a hand to my stinging flesh. I don’t even know why I’m shocked. Anger fills my body so potently, I’m convinced my blood evaporated into wisps of smoke.
I do better. My fist flies forward and clashes with his cheek. His head jerks to the side from the force and immediately pain flares throughout my hand. It feels like I broke it.
We both freeze. Guess I’m more like my mother than I thought. That girl from the club comes hurdling back. The fearless girl who used to dance with slimy men and break their noses when they got too comfortable. The girl who refused to take shit from any man.
Where’d she go?
The only thing that moves is our heavily pumping chests. Slowly, he looks over at me. Several emotions play across his eyes. Shock and fury are prominent, but there’s another emotion swirling
around that I can’t name.
“Why did you do that?” he asks darkly.
“Because you deserved it,” I breathe, feeling a tad invigorated.
“Do you feel better?”
“Only if it means you’ll stop laying your hands on me. You’re supposed to make me feel good, not hurt me.”
He sucks in his bottom lip, that unnamed emotion coming to the forefront. It almost seems calculating, but I can’t be sure. And to my surprise, he nods his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I need a thesaurus. How many words are there for the word surprise? I feel every one of them like each synonym is a different emotion.
“You… you’re sorry?” I ask, my brow bunching into a deep V. Whiplash. That’s the best word to describe how I feel.
He nods and touches his hand to his cheek. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I narrow my eyes, skeptical of his behavior. His whole face transforms. His eyes softening, and his face relaxing. He looks genuinely sorry. Despite my best efforts, I feel myself softening, too.
“Then why did you do that?”
Shame clouds his eyes when he looks my way. “I just get so worried about you. So many men have taken advantage of you, and I’m terrified someone will come along and try to do that. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are, River. I can’t keep the monsters away if you show them what they can take from you.”
I bite my lip, and I feel just a little ashamed myself.
“I—I can tell you where I go, and I won’t dress so provocatively. But I need you to stop hitting me.”
He comes to me in a rush, but not with anger this time. This time, it’s nothing but love in his eyes. He curls his strong arms around me tightly and brings me close, nose to nose.
“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I won’t hit you anymore. I get so frustrated because you don’t understand how men think, and I do. I just need you to listen to me, okay? I need to know where you are and what you’re doing. And I need to make sure your body is covered properly so men don’t try to steal you away.”
I nod, and we both deflate in each other’s arms.
Mako was wrong. Ryan doesn’t want to own my body. He just wants to protect me. Keep me safe.
And no one has ever done that for me before.
“I noticed the mirror,” he says quietly. I stiffen before pulling back.
“Ryan, I am so, so sor—”
“Shh,” he whispers, cutting me off. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me back into him.
“It’s okay. I get it. I already had someone come in and replace it.”
Emotion builds up inside my chest. Namely relief. I didn’t want him to hit me again because I broke his mirror. I bite my lip. “You sure you’re not mad?”
“No, baby, I’m not mad. I love you so much, River,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.
“I can’t lose you. I can’t live without you.”
Tears burn my eyes. Not from sadness, but from happiness. I feel on top of the world now. I feel like we’re finally moving in the direction we need to be. It feels like we’re healing.
“I love you, too.”
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispers into my ear, nipping my ear. Shivers run through my spine. I’m nodding my head before I even realize it.
His lips touch mine in a gentle kiss. It’s sweet, and soothing. Slowly, he increases the pressure until it turns hungry. He scoops me in my arms and carries me up to our bedroom, never letting his lips stray from mine.
The second my feet touch the cool wood flooring next to our bed, he’s peeling my clothes from my body. Hot kisses trail from my lips down to my neck. They pause at my breast, and wet heat envelops my nipple.
My head drops back as pleasure washes over me.
This right here, is what makes me feel loved.
I can get used to this.
“I THINK I MIGHT be pregnant.”
I choke on my iced coffee, inhaling some of it through my nose while the rest flies out of my mouth in a perfect arch. Good thing class is over and we’re walking towards her car. If we were in
the cafeteria, I would kill her.
“Wow. That was disgusting.”
I laugh, partially from disbelief. I wipe my mouth and nose with my hand, trying to clean up as best as I can. Great, now I’ll be sticky.
“That was your fault. Are you fucking with me?”
“No,” Amelia sighs wearily.
“Why do you think you’re pregnant?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Because I’ve been really horny lately.”
I look at her incredulously. “That’s it? You’ve been horny?”
“No, I also threw up at the smell of bacon. Twice.”
“Oh my God, you’re definitely pregnant. No one throws up at the smell of bacon.”
“Right?” she says, her eyes wide.
“Are you happy?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m fucking terrified.”
I laugh and pull her into a tight hug. “Well, I’m happy for you, babe. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
I’m beyond happy for her. Maybe one day, it’ll be Ryan and I having a baby, too. Our babies can be best friends.
She beams and hugs me back. “Thank you. I can’t do this without you, though, okay? I’m probably going to cry a lot. I already cried when I was watching one of those dance competition shows. Bawled like a fucking baby.”
I laugh and let her go. “I think I always cry during those shows. They’re just so fucking good that the only thing I can do is cry.”
She slumps her shoulders in relief. “Oh, good, I’m glad I’m not the only one. I was just going to use pregnancy as my excuse.”
“Yeah, I usually use my period as an excuse, it’s okay.”
We giggle the rest of the walk to her car. She’s already coming up with wild ass baby names like Jupiter and Italea, pronounced i-tall-ee-uh.
I wonder what Ryan would want to name our kids.
“YOU SEEM BETTER.”
Why does my body melt every time I hear his fucking voice? I don’t want my body to melt. I want it to turn to solid, unmeltable stone. Hearing his voice feels like injecting heroin. But just because heroin feels good, doesn’t mean it’s not capable of killing you. Mako is bad for me. He’s just like Alison—another pretty face sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong and trying to sabotage my relationship. For whatever reason, they can’t stand to see Ryan happy.
Mako stands there like a god, dressed in black pants again with a sage green shirt that makes his
eyes pop out.
He needs to go away.
“Can you stop stalking me?”
A brow raises at my harsh tone. I don’t care, though. For a second, I almost fell for his shit. I regret every single moment from the library. Talking to him, telling him all my dirty secrets about my past life. Things that Ryan doesn’t even know yet.
That was three weeks ago now, and it makes me feel dirty. Like I cheated. In a sense, I suppose I did. I still haven’t confessed to Ryan about that day, and I never will. That’ll be something I take with me to the grave.
Especially because he’d be the one to send me there if he found out.
And I’m glad I didn’t say anything, either, or that night might’ve gone differently. Ryan made love to me and doted on me all night. Never asked for anything in return, though I was more than happy to return the favor anyway. And ever since, we’ve been perfect.
We’ve come home to each other in high spirits, laughed and joked, had at-home movie nights where we fed each other popcorn, and ending in a pillow fights and making love. He’s spoiled me, cuddled me, ran me candlelit baths, and expressed his vulnerable feelings towards me. We’ve both opened up more to each other, and he actually listened when I told him about Shallow Hill and the men there. No judgement, and only sympathy and understanding.
He’s a whole new man, and I’ve never been more in love.
“I want you to leave me alone,” I continue. “Despite what you think you know about me, I’m happy with Ryan.”
Mako purses his lips, and something akin to disappointment flashes in his eyes. It’s gone before I can tell for sure.
“Did he whisper sweet nothings to you all night, and promise to never hurt you again?”
I bristle at his condescending words. A visceral anger is thrumming through me again. Someone shouldn’t be able to make me so angry so quickly. Clearly, that’s a sign. How could I think to listen to someone who does nothing but piss me off? Mako doesn’t have my best interest at heart, he only cares about satisfying his own. Which is doing everything in his power to make sure Ryan is suffering.
“You don’t know anything,” I hiss, my eyes flaring with undisguised hate.
“I know more than he does.” I flinch, my eyes widening in shock.
“Did you just throw everything I told you back in my face?”
“No. I’m just stating facts,” he responds dryly. His face is a blank mask. No emotion shines through his eyes.
I take a step towards him. “The only thing you care about is getting back at Ryan. I don’t know what the hell he’s ever done to deserve your hatred, but don’t bring that shit to my doorstep. I don’t care what you think you know, you’re wrong.”
Mako just stares, something akin to shock registering on his face.
“Is that what he told you? That I hate him?”
I slash a hand through the air, cutting off anything else he has to say. “I’m done talking to you.
Leave me alone, Mako. Or I’ll tell Ryan you’re following me,” I threaten.
He laughs. Actually fucking laughs.
“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says around a grin. His face lights up with a cold and merciless amusement at the threat. It makes me feel cold.
I walk away. There’s no point in responding. He got the message loud and fucking clear.
“I SEE YOU’RE STILL a piece of shit,” I observe dryly.
Barbie snarls from before me, her greasy black hair hanging in stringy clumps. She smells fucking horrid. Like a shit stain and expired milk.
“Fuck off, River.”
“Do you have rent?” I ask in place of a smart response.
Be superior, River. Though I could walk in with five-day old clothes and without a shower for even longer, and I’d still accomplish that small feat.
She reaches into the pocket of her stained, hole-riddled sweatpants and angrily slaps crumpled dirty bills on the table. Her palm catches a syringe. It pops up, twirls in the air and topples back on the table. The tinkling lets me know it rolled off the table and onto the floor. She doesn’t bother picking it up.
And that’s why I’ll never walk through this house barefoot.
Or touch that fucking table.
Good thing I came prepared. I pull a rubber glove out of my pocket, stretch it on and pick up the bills. I drop them in a plastic Ziploc baggie.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Quit acting like this isn’t where you come from, you pretentious bitch,” she spits. Her eyes are dilated, and she can’t stop clenching her jaw. I’m not even insulted.
How can I be when she’s where she is, and I’m where I am?
Her words haven’t hurt me in a very long time.
“How I haven’t contracted an STD is beyond me, and I’m not about to test that luck.”
I don’t bother counting the bills. They’ll all be there. They always are when I make my threats.
She goes off to find a way out, no one will take her, and she comes scurrying back to the house with a pocket full of dirty money.
The front door thumps loudly against the wall. Someone just walked in like they own the house.
And there’s only one person who would dare.
Billy.
Barbie and I both freeze in place, and for a brief moment, we share a connection of mutual terror. Barbie visibly gulps, and I try my best to relax my shoulders.
If Billy decides he wants more from me, I won’t be able to hide his marks. Ryan will never forgive me. He’ll leave me in a heartbeat if he saw another man’s bruises on my body. And he’ll probably create more if he finds out another man has been inside my body.
Shit.
My bones rattle and a cold sweat bloom across the back of my neck when Billy enters the kitchen. Barbie turns to greet him, a fake smile plastered on her decrepit face.
He’s impeccably dressed, as usual. Slick graying blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes and a strong jaw.
He used to be handsome in his younger years. Back then, he was a young gang member, born and raised in the slums, dressed like Barbie, but had women falling at his feet. Until he had a run-in with a thug, and they cut his face up.
Those scars crisscrossing his nose, eyes and mouth make him look utterly terrifying. And the dark, blank look in his eyes certainly doesn’t help matters. Billy’s the type of man you see on the streets and instantly turn to walk the opposite direction. He’s incredibly intimidating, with a permanent psychotic gleam in his eyes that warn any passerby that he’d wrap his massive hands around your skull and crush it until it pops. And enjoy it too.
Now he runs a drug empire and is filthy rich. The cash in his wallet drips with blood and tears from all the people he killed to obtain it.
“Well, hey, suga,” Barbie sings—rather loudly might I add. Her nervous energy is palpable. Any
minute now, she’s going to have a bad trip and there’s not one cell in my body that feels bad for her. “I didn’t know you were stoppin’ by today.”
“Since when am I required to announce my arrival?” he inquires, his voice devoid of emotion.
I’ve seen Billy in all kinds of different states of emotion, but I’ve known him my entire life, been around him more than my nightmares are capable of keeping up with. It takes a lot to make him stray from his calm and eerily quiet state.
I swallow thickly and meet his frightening eyes. The dark pools found mine from the moment he stepped in the kitchen. They haven’t strayed once.
She laughs, another nervous sound. “You’re right.”
Silence. Filled with his expectations and dark promises.
“Hey, Billy,” I greet finally, my own voice softer than I’d like. It shames me that he still has this effect on me. I’d love nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself and let him know he doesn’t scare me. But my soul is also very attached to its vessel.
He slowly walks over to me, his polished heels clicking on the filthy floor. The contrast between the two almost doesn’t compute in my brain. The image looks tremendously off. Such nice shoes shouldn’t be walking on a floor so disgusting.
I’m focusing on his shoes so I don’t have to think about why he’s walking towards me. I’m thinking about how there’s guck caked in the cracks of the tiles, instead of how he’s stopped in front of me and waiting for me to lift my eyes.
I’m thinking about how I’m about to lose my relationship tonight, and maybe even my life.
He lifts his hands towards me and it takes everything in me not to flinch away. Slowly, his finger catches my chin, causing shivers to run down my spine. Barbie shifts in my peripheral, nervous. That makes me nervous.
My chin rises. Our eyes meet. Anger’s infused in his eyes. My breath escapes me.
“You’re a ghost,” he says softly.
My mouth dries, and I fight to swallow.
“You were born and raised here. You were one of us, once upon a time. And now you act like you’re too good for us.” Despite my best efforts, my lip trembles. God, does it tremble.
His fingers tighten around my jaw, and all I can do is whisper pleadingly, “Billy…”
“Ghost,” he whispers.
My face slams into the table before I can brace myself.
Pain explodes in the side of my head. The only silver-lining is my face was turned enough that it didn’t break my nose.
So much for not touching the fucking table.
Keeping my head pinned to the table, he leans in closer. The unforgiving surface has my eyes widening with unconcealed pain. Tears prick my eyes and threaten to leak. I don’t want to show weakness. I don’t want to, but Billy has a special way of drawing it out of you anyway.
Barbie backs up a few steps, unease etched in her wrinkles.
“Where have you been?” he whispers, his tone deceptively calm. There’s a torch lit inside his bloodstream. Billy’s pissed.
Anger bursts inside of me. I’ve gotten out of this goddamn hellhole. Why the fuck do I come back? Why did I buy this stupid ass house, and why do I continue to hold it over my mother? For revenge? I was lying to Mako and myself when I said that.
Shallow Hill is ingrained in my bones, and bones won’t survive without the marrow.
“Hell is not a home, Billy,” I grit out. “It’s only a place I come to visit.”
“It is home,” he barks, his voice echoing as the reins on his temper start to slip. “You’re stained, River. This place is a stain on our soul, and it won’t ever come out.”
I’m breathing heavily now. Partly from fear, partly from anger. It’s not smart to talk back to Billy.
“Did you try?” I challenge, squeezing my eyes shut in pain when he presses my head down further. So badly, I want to cry out. I’m toppling on the precipice of letting go of my pride and dignity.
I don’t want to show weakness. I don’t want to.
“Yes,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “And then I realized I was only lying to myself. The joke of a life I attempted to live was a façade. Just like yours.”
Finally, god, finally, he releases me. I scramble away from the table as fast as I can, tipping my chair over in the process, dignity be damned. The chair clatters to the tile obnoxiously, the loud sound mimicking the sound of mine and Barbie’s fear.
Barbie’s tripping. Literally. She’s high off Lord knows what, and the fear is messing with her high. Wide, dilated pupils jump between Billy and me. Her breathing is heavy, and her hands tremble.
Pretty soon she’ll start clawing at her own skin, desperate to get out of her own body. The fear is a potent and inescapable.
I don’t assume it’s for my benefit. She’s only scared he’ll turn his anger on her when he’s done
with me.
And he will.
He absolutely will.
