Chapter 23: Confessions

Annabel's POV

It's funny, I suppose, that when I lay there, shaking and sobbing in Billie's arms on the train tracks, feeling him stroke my hair and press his lips in pain against my head, against any part of my face which I allowed him to see, it's funny that I let him. I never let anyone hold me like that. At least after the accident. At least after Cassie. 

Cassie. My guts twisted, sorrow beyond anything I had ever felt wracking every inch of me. Before, part of me had been fighting his warm embrace, but upon the flash of her face, pale and looking almost like she was sleeping, but not quite, I collapsed into him. 

I hated him. I hated him for this. I hated what he had said and I hated what he had done. Oh god I had missed him, I had missed his stupidly messy hair and his kind eyes and his crooked smile and his strong grip, as if he was holding me over an abyss, perhaps he was, and I missed his smell. Cigarettes, metal from the strings of his guitar and lilacs, the flowers that were clustered all around the tracks at Christie Road.

"I hate you." My voice was empty, it sounded hoarse and I could barely recognise it. 

His grip tightened.

"I know. I hate you too."

I was just a shuddering mess then, the tears ebbing. He pulled me further onto his lap, cradling me like a child, rocking back and forth. Sense was starting to crawl into the warmth and melancholy that surrounded me, and I thought for a moment to break his hold, but as his fingers dug further into my skin I could tell he was shaking too. I was too exhausted. I curled myself against his chest, listening to the hammering beat of his heart. 

He looked at me then. Guilt glazed every feature of his face. That damned beautiful face. He knew I just wanted to sleep. But I knew he wouldn't let me; he needed answers.

Would I give them to him? I had never spoken a word of any of it before. Would I to him? Was he entitled? Did I want to?

I began to sit up, wiping my stained face clumsily, attempting to climb out of the cocoon of his limbs around me. I wobbled, and he reestablished his hold on me. I brushed his hands away, they fell effortlessly. I ended up next to him, not looking at him, not looking at anything really, except perhaps the refinery smog curl into the night.

"Jeremy, he didn't give you that mark did he?" Billie's voice was so quiet, and I could feel his eyes on me, although I willed myself not to look.

"No. He gave me others, but never that bad. Jeremy... he's an asshole, a fucking asshole, but he's not a psychopath."

His stare intensified. 

"Who did?"

I closed my eyes. There he was. An image of perfection and of cruelty. A glorious nightmare.

"Holden Clifferson."

A weight felt like it had been lifted off my chest after I had said his name. Everything came flooding back like a tsunami in its wake. The ashy blonde hair. The sharp jaw, charmed smile, golden skin. Grey eyes. Hard as steel. Cold as ice. They never flinched, not even once.

I opened my eyes. Billie was watching, waiting.

"Once my dad died my mom was in shock. She needed support, she was vulnerable I suppose. She married Jeremy a few months later. He was alright then, smiled a lot, used to buy me books and records. We moved into their apartment in New York, my mom, my sister Cassie and me."

He seemed to open his mouth to question, but I just continued in a rush of rawness and hurt.

"My sister Cassandra is 3 years older than me, meaning she was 16 when we moved. We met our new stepbrother for the first time; he hadn't been at the wedding. He was 18, his name was Holden and he was very handsome, he was also very charming and we all liked him immediately. I remember when we were sitting at the table that first night for dinner and Jeremy and my mom were recounting  their honeymoon. There were a couple guests over too, work friends or whatever. I remember watching Holden and Cassie talk quietly, and how she would blush and smile every time he laughed at her joke or complimented her. I remember how she fidgeted in her chair, like she was excited, when he leaned to whisper things in her ear. I also remember something strange in his eyes. You see, it was always his eyes which gave him away. He looked like he was a lion looking at a wounded gazelle."

I took a breath, barely pausing. I had never told a hint of any of it before. I knew now that I couldn't stop.

"My sister was beautiful. She had long, dark hair, like your hair colour, and she had the sharp cheeks of my dad and big blue eyes. Jeremy commented that it was cute that they had perhaps developed a liking for each other. It was a good sign for him and mom that everything was going well. Holden's mother had died when he was  little, by suicide.

And then, a few weeks into us moving, I began to hear footsteps at night. Into Cassie's bedroom. Then they stopped, as if hovering by the threshold, just inside the room, then they went back the way they had came. I knew it was him, deep down I knew it was him. My sister was a deep sleeper then; I doubt she would have even noticed him there, watching her. It was then that I could start to hear conversations. At first, they were friendly enough, I could hear giggling and then everything would stop and I was certain that they were kissing. When I asked her about it Cassie said that it didn't concern me and then she'd give me an eager grin. She told me not to tell mom or Jeremy. I didn't.

But then the conversations turned, angrier. I was the only one who could hear them because Jeremy and mom slept on the level above and both are bad snorers so they always wore earplugs. He began to snarl and I could hear his voice in a way that I never thought could belong to a face as pretty as his. One night I could hear a scuffle and then the bed creak. 

In the daylight he seemed unchanged as to when we first knew him, quick-witted and good humoured. Cassie's face is what changed. It seemed hollow. I didn't really grasp what was going on completely. I asked her about it a few times but then I went quiet when she just told me to shut up, and then burst into tears."

I took a steadying breath, knowing what was to come. I felt Billie grasp my hand. His calloused fingers, gripping and lacing through mine calmed me. I continued.

"And then one night she just didn't come home from school. She had gone to a party and didn't get back until the next morning. But that night is when he came into my bedroom..."

The grip on my hand tightened.

"He told me that Cassie was a slut and that he had warned her that this would happen if she thought of telling or running off. He picked me up easily out of the bed. Jeremy and mom were out, but that didn't matter because I was too petrified to make any noise, I choked on my own breath and my body was still. I was literally frozen with fear. He pushed me against the wall. His eyes were so cold. He pulled out a knife, one of those switchblades, and held it right by neck. Then trailed it down to here..." I marked it with my finger, right over the scar, "...and then he began to cut me. I screamed then, and one hand went straight over my mouth. The knife never went very deep, just in spirals in that one little spot. Quiet sweetheart, hold still and it won't hurt. It hurt anyway. 

My sister came back and had seen what had been done. She cut off all her hair, and then she left with him, one night, and never came back. It was so he couldn't hurt me again. And then a few days ago they found her body, in a flat in New York. She was pregnant. They're still looking for him. Jeremy and mom found out what had happened after I told them about what he had done, the night Cassie and Holden disappared. Jeremy blamed himself, and then took the guilt out on us. Mom went into a lockdown. And here we are, here we are in Rodeo, California, my sister in the ground because of me."

I wiped the tears from my face, the ones that I hadn't even noticed were falling. Billie said nothing. I knew he couldn't. I felt his arm wrap around me, gently pulling me back to the warmth of his chest. I sighed. Everything felt so light. Now I just wanted to sleep.

The last thing I could comprehend before I fell into the merciful oblivion was a soft, melodic voice...

"Picture yourself in a boat on a riverWith tangerine trees and marmalade skiesSomebody calls you, you answer quite slowlyA girl with kaleidoscope eyes...."

I woke in the darkness in an unfamiliar bed. It smelt like weed, that was the first thing I could understand. I then realised I couldn't move, I was held into place, and I felt the most at peace than I had for years. There was a weight on the top of my head, and upon waking up further I concluded that it was a chin. A giddiness swept through me as I realised who was my apparent bed-mate. I felt something dark and wet and angry in the back of my mind to do with him, but I couldn't dwell on it long. A rumble that was his low voice shook around me.

"I'm sorry."

He seemed to be awake, which lead me to believe that he hadn't slept. I peered up at him, his face hard and wracked with sympathy and shame.

"No more tonight, please." I whispered back, and before I could comprehend myself a hand came to trace his face, gently titling his chin down to me. I hovered for a moment, his lips fractions from mine, his eyes heavy-lidded and eyebrows furrowed with conflict. But the turmoil soon gave way as his eyes closed and he closed the marginal distance, his lips soft and slow against mine. My heart fluttered, finally at ease with itself. Butterfly light kisses on my nose, then my forehead, before he pulled me close once more. 

I heard his breathing level out and deepen, and within minutes we both lost ourselves to sleep. 

A/N thanks for reading!