What happens now?
What do I do now?
I heard a door open and shut—I heard a lot of things. But again, I didn’t move.
3:29 a.m.
“Amelia.”
For the first time since I’d lay down, my eyes shifted from the clock to him. He stepped in from the doorway, dressed only in his boxers. Where his clothes had gone I wasn’t sure. He came over slowly, and I was grateful for that for some reason. Lying down to the right of me, he rolled over on his side, blocking my view of the clock and forcing me to stare into his eyes.
“You. Did. Nothing. Wrong,” he asserted clearly, so clearly I almost wanted to believe him.
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
“Amelia, you did nothing wrong,” he repeated. “If you’d called the police, they would have taken you in. You would have gone through a public trial and been ridiculed and torn apart by every TV personality, radio host, and blogger. Your career would be over. But in the end, you’d be found not guilty. They’d say it was self-defense. So I see no reason for you to go through all of that. I find you not guilty and refuse to let this destroy you.”
“H—ow…” my voice cracked and it took me a second to get the words out. “How do you know? You weren’t even here.”
“Because I know you,” he said, smiling as he placed his hand on my waist. “Amelia, you are not just a good person—you’re a beautiful one. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be so distraught right now. You need to know you are not a murderer. You are a woman who fought back and won. There is no shame in that.”
“She was my mother,” I said, stumbling over the past tense.
“That never gave her the right to abuse you.”
For some reason, that one statement was like a light bulb being switched on in my mind. I would never have to hide from her again. I would never cry because of her again. I was free. Slowly, all the guilt, anger, sadness—everything—just faded into the background, and my tears stopped.
I only had one question.
“What happens now?”
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. I copied him. It was like he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Noah, I need to know,” I pleaded.
“Austin and I came up with a plan.”
Austin? “What?” I sat up immediately. “You told Austin?”
“Amelia, do you trust me?” he asked softly.
“Always.” I didn’t even have to think about that.
Taking my hand, he kissed the back of it. “Then know that I trust Austin. Both him and my brother.”
“Your brother? Noah, how many people—”
“Just Austin and Bo,” he replied, sitting up and resting against the headboard. “Do you remember when I got emancipated from Frank? I was fifteen, and Austin became my manager.”
I would never forget. He had never been so happy in all the time we had been together. That year was amazing.
“You told me your dad was taking all of your money.” Which didn’t surprise me at all.
“He was,” he replied, frowning as he opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. I didn’t bother fighting him this time when he lit it up. “But Frank had been stealing from me all my life. I could have left earlier, but I never did because of my half brother, Bo. I didn’t want to abandon him, not after his mother did. She just left him, but we couldn’t blame her. A person can only take so many beatings from Frank. With her gone, he tried to beat on Bo, but each time he did, I would I put myself in the hospital. Stupid things like breaking my arm or leg.”
“Noah…” Back then, he had told me he had gotten hurt trying to do stunts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughed, cupping my face. “I wasn’t doing it out of depression or anything. I did it to teach Frank a lesson. After those two times, he never laid a hand on Bo again. I was his ATM, and each time I got hurt, he lost money. There is nothing Frank hated more than that. We had a plan. When Bo turned eighteen, I’d get emancipated and we’d leave. But since I was child star, and those accidents didn’t line up with my film schedule, children's services got involved. The person working my case was Austin Kugelman. Not only did he figure it out, but he knew everything about Frank—what he did to us, what he was involved in, and what he had done Austin covered up as much of it as he could. He told me that the only way to survive in this world is to be important. He wanted me as far away from Frank as possible and actually made it happen. He even set up Bo, but he told us to keep our distance from each other.”
“Why?” He’d never told me anything about his family life. I knew him. But anything beyond that, he always told me not to worry about. Now, everything was spilling out of him like he was in confession.
“Because Austin knew something I didn’t want to accept.” He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out from his nose. “Bo is a failure. He is a second-rate version of Frank, and if it weren’t for me, he’d stealing cars or slinging dope for a living. If we were together, he’d just be another anchor around my neck.”
It was harsh, and he looked so heartbroken to admit it.
“You know what was worse?” he whispered, dropping his head. “The moment I moved out, when I didn’t have to think about them, I was grateful. For the first time, my family wasn’t my burden.”
“But because of me … of Esther … you still have to deal with Frank.” He was only free for a year. After that, our parents’ sins had ruined us.
“Yes,” he admitted, and that guilt started to creep back up. “But it was still different. I was no longer just his doormat. I couldn’t do much, but I could protect you.”
“You protect me. Then who protects you?” I didn’t want to be his burden, either.
“You do,” he replied with a look on his face that said he didn’t understand how I could ask that. “Between you and Austin, no one else has ever had my back.”
“And Bo? The fact that you called him means you trust him, right?”
He shook his head. “It means I know he will get rid of the body without asking any questions.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of this Noah. He was the same and yet so different … no, not different—100 percent himself now, with no reservations. “You’re telling me this now because …?”
“The realization that the world is fucked-up place. And no matter what you do, you can’t change it. I’ve had it since I was seven, and I can see it in you now. I couldn’t tell this to the old Amelia.”
The light bulb in my head kept getting brighter. I couldn’t deny anything he said, and worst of all, none of it bothered me.
“When you realize it’s a ruthless world, all you can do is be ruthless in return,” he whispered softly, blowing out smoke. “There was no going back, Amelia. We can cover this up, but it doesn’t matter, if you can’t move on from it.”
Reaching over to him, I took the cigarette from between his lips and placed it between mine, copying his actions and taking a long drag off it.
“Ahh! Fuck!” I coughed, my throat burning. Being the asshole he was, he laughed at me.
“You’re cute,” he said, taking the cigarette, though I almost threw it at him. I was still trying to breathe.
“That was so much cooler in my head,” I muttered, lying down beside him. He wrapped his arm around my waist and only then did I realize I was naked. But I didn’t care. There were no secrets between us anymore.
“Try and get some rest. We have to be up in two hours,” he whispered, and I couldn’t help but snicker. Confused, he glanced down at me.
“What?” He questioned.
“In two hours, we will be acting as Blair and Damon, criminals and lovers … does art imitate life, or does life imitate art?”
The corner of his lip turned up, and he put his cigarette out on the drawers. Rolling on top of me, he pinned both of my hands down at the sides of my head. His face hovered so closely to mine that every breath he breathed, I took in.
“Don’t you know, Amelia,” his eyes dropped to my lips, “everybody is a sinner.”