In the morning, I slapped on my attempt at normalcy and made it to the kitchen before Hanna. I just needed to be busy. I’d learned a long time ago that being busy was the key to survival.
The gold of the sun was just starting to tinge the horizon when I finished with the coffee and juice and looked around for something more to do.
“Good morning.”
I whipped around. Alec was standing in the doorway, half hidden in shadow.
“I’d like to apologize for yesterday,” he said.
I only looked at him, my expression carefully impassive.
“I was rude,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been short. You have every reason to be frustrated with me.”
I said nothing.
“It’s just that much of what’s happening is very…delicate.”
I only nodded. Did he think I was too stupid to get it? Or maybe too weak to handle it?
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I promise I’m working on it.”
“I know.”
He hesitated then took a step back. His expression was difficult to read with all the shadows. “I hope your day is pleasant.” He walked out the front door.
I turned to try to find something to do, but I only stared at the pitcher of orange juice on the counter.
“Good morning,” Hanna said as she walked in.
I broke from my motionlessness. Hanna seemed to worry about me the most when I stared into space. “Good morning.”
“Was that Alec’s voice I heard?”
I nodded.
“Did he have any of that?” She motioned toward the juice.
“Um, no. He seemed to be in a hurry.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He doesn’t want to eat, and his secretary says he’s also been skipping lunch.”
I saw an opportunity to ask a question in the hopes she wouldn’t understand the thoughts behind it. With an amused expression, I asked, “Woman trouble?”
“I don’t think so. He’s never really told me much about that, but I don’t think he’s dated in a while.” She sighed. “A long while.” She opened the freezer door.
I tried to sound somewhat uninterested as I focused on cleaning the juicer. “Really?” She had to be wrong. Surely, he saw many women, but just never brought any of them home.
She set some bacon on the counter. “Yes, well, I’ve learned not to ask.”
He wasn’t the type to share about his love life with anyone, especially the woman who was essentially his mother. Of course. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking by asking her; it wasn’t any of my business anyway.
After breakfast, I went up to my room to try to find something to do. I needed something, anything. My drawing book was almost full, and the paper was so small it wasn’t worth the effort anymore. Then I remembered—he’d said the desk was stocked. Maybe that meant more than just the fancy pencils. I opened a couple drawers and found one that was filled with paper and drawing books. I took one out and opened it. Paper of a decent size. Maybe that would do the trick.
I grabbed my little pencil and headed downstairs, intending to disappear out back.
“She’s not happy.” Hanna’s voice was coming from the kitchen. “She tries to pretend, but it’s getting worse.”
“I know,” Alec said.
Halfway through the living room, I stopped.
Hanna went on tentatively. “Maybe she needs to get out. You’re obviously concerned for her safety, but...surely, she would be safe if...you took her out.”
Please stop, Hanna.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He sounded aggravated.
“The danger can’t be that bad,” she said.
He didn’t respond.
“Just lunch, and you could take her to—”
“No.” Then he cooled his tone. “She shouldn’t be seen right now.”
“I just thought it would be good for her.”
He was quiet.
“If she can’t go out,” she said, “maybe you could take her for a walk on the beach or something.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“It’s just that you’re the head of the household and all, and she knows that. If you talked with her more, she might feel more comfortable, more secure.” Then she added in a quieter voice, “And she’s so pretty.”
A pause. His voice was tight, not quite concealing his anger. “I’m not attracted to her.”
“Oh. I just thought…”
His tone was hard. “Please don’t bring this up again.” His footsteps, as if he was turning to walk away from her.
Quickly, I continued through the living room and out the back door. Then I disappeared into the trees.
I walked, and kept walking. The ground was soft under my feet, and the low ferns brushed against my jeans. The trees seemed to welcome me, pull me into their shadow.
Maybe the repetitive motion of walking would help numb me.
But it didn’t. There was too much to numb. Everything crawling around inside my head was too powerful.
Finally, I stopped and sat on a low rock about ten feet from the edge of the cliffs. I didn’t open the notebook but only stared, first at the brush all around and then out to the ocean. The waves annoyed me.
Fists and jaw clenched, I tried to force myself not to feel anything. When that didn’t work, at least not well enough, I latched on to one emotion to try to drown out the rest. Anger. I wanted to hate him. I hated that he was beautiful. I hated that he made me respect him. I hated that he made me want him so damn much.
So what if he didn’t find me attractive? It didn’t matter. I didn’t want him, anyway.
But I couldn’t pull off a lie that big.
I hated, beyond reason, that he made me love him.
I didn’t want love. I didn’t even really want the companionship of other people. I was fine by myself. I survived, and that was all that mattered.
But now he’d made me want something more.
I hate him.
The more I tried to force myself to believe it, though, the less I did.
And then I was at the edge of the cliff, hurling the notebook.
I screamed.
My voice echoed over the ocean like a rock skipping across the surface then drowning far from the shore. Standing at the very edge of the cold, hard rock, I felt as if I could fill the entire open space in front of me with my voice, with my tightly compacted wants. My insides felt tight, my ribs about to burst from my chest from the pressure of want building, piling, and then being squished into an inadequate space. I’d barely eaten in days, but I felt full. No more could possibly fit. All those desires spilled from my lips in one scream. Everything I’d ever wanted filled the space and then evaporated in the ocean air. The water lapped as if chewing, devouring.
My scream garbled into raspy nothingness.
I made myself step back from the edge. My legs gave out.
A noise. I couldn’t register it. I stared at the dirt and weeds under my hands. It grew louder—footsteps and plants being shuffled, someone running.
“Adriane.” Alec stepped out from beyond the trees.