This is wrong, so damn wrong. I am sitting here playing house with a monster. I have to find a way to be able to talk to my brother or the only way I am going to be able to sleep tonight is to drink a hell of a lot more wine than I have in this house.
Fucking prick, I think to myself as I smile back.
“Didn’t mean to upset you, babe. Now, come on. I’ll give in and sit through one of your stupid chick flicks if you forgive me.”
He looks at me with childlike eyes and on the inside I am laughing my damn ass off. If he really was Turner then he would know that I am not a chick flick kind of girl. I am a horror movie girl. I’ll humor him, though.
“I’m not in the mood for a chick flick tonight. How about we find the scariest movie we can find and watch that instead?” I lift my brows in challenge.
“Let’s go, then.” He climbs off the bed. “I’ll even be a nice husband and let you pick it out.” His voice trails behind him as he goes down the stairs.
You do that, asshole, because while I am sitting there watching it, I am going to pretend it’s me who shoots you through your black fucking soul in the end.
************
I feel nauseated and my head is pounding. I am damn near parched to death as I lay here at eleven o’clock in the damn morning. Rolling over to my side and noticing the empty spot next to me, tears prick my eyes when I think about the fact that I have slept another night without Turner.
I miss him so much. Wanting him back here with me, I let the tears fall silently. I deserve this pain I am feeling and so much more. Curling myself up in a tight ball, I cry helplessly for the man I love. My head is hurting so bad from the wine I consumed last night, but my heart hurts even more.
“Please come back to me safely,” I plead as I rub the side of the bed where he usually sleeps. “I don’t want to live my life without you, but I will as long as I know you’re alive and well.”
I’m so afraid that something has happened to him and he is never going to come back.
Making up my mind to crawl out of bed, I fling the covers off and notice that I am completely naked. I never sleep naked. My stomach rolls at the fact that Trent must have brought me to bed because the last thing I remember was passing out at the very end of the movie.
“Shit,” I mumble.
Why do you even care if he saw you naked, you filthy slut? You slept with him knowing he isn’t your husband and you loved it!
Despite the fact that my head is pounding, I jump out of bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom. Landing on my knees in front of the toilet, I vomit everything in my stomach and gag with the dry heaves even after nothing else comes up.
I shake, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I lay my head on the tile floor and thank God Trent is gone playing basketball so he doesn’t see me falling apart like this. My brother has got to be climbing out of his damn skin knowing he is playing ball with a colossal fake.
Right then it hits me.
He’s gone.
I jump up quickly and have to steady myself as a wave of dizziness hits me full force. Once I feel somewhat normal, I lift my head and look at myself in the mirror. What a fucking mess. I can’t even stand to look at myself. So, I don’t. I turn the water on and once it is hot enough for me to stand under, I get my hair washed and my body scrubbed clean in less than ten minutes.
I need to hurry. I have no clue what time he is going to be back, so I grab all my clothes and dress in a rush. I head into Turner’s closet in hopes of finding some sort of clue without Trent noticing I was in here. After several minutes of looking through every possible thing I can find, I come up empty handed. I make sure everything is back the way I found it and head toward the dresser and rummage through everything there, too.
I keep searching the entire bedroom. Nothing. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I try to think. If I wanted to hide something from someone in here, where would I put it? My eyes desperately scan the room and then suddenly stop at the picture of Turner and me on top of my dresser. Something draws me to it, my feet moving of their own accord. I brush my hand over Turner’s face before I pick it up and turn it over. When I lift the hinges on the back, I smirk when I see a small folded up piece of paper lying against the picture.
My hands tremble as I pick it up and set the frame back down on the dresser. Opening it as fast as I can, I am shocked when I see a picture placed neatly inside. It’s old and faded, and yet I can still make out that it’s a family photo. Melody is sitting on a bench holding one of the twins while a man who I have never seen before is holding the other.
Studying the man’s features, I know he must be Turner’s father as his features are so similar to both of the twins’; black hair, chiseled nose, and that very prominent square chin. Turner and Trent look so much alike I cannot tell them apart. I stare at the man who helped bring my husband into this world and wonder what he and Trent are doing and what they seem to think they will gain by destroying Turner’s life.
I set the photo down on the dresser and open the piece of paper and right there in black ink is an address and phone number that I would recognize anywhere- they’re Melody’s. The ten million dollar question is; what is Trent doing with it, and why?
After running down to the kitchen and grabbing my phone off the charger, I sprint back up the stairs and take a screenshot of the family photo and then make sure to put everything back in its proper place. I go about making the bed and brushing my teeth and applying as much makeup as I can to my face to hide the dark circles under my eyes without going overboard
Just as I am finishing up with blow-drying my hair, I hear the front door slam shut and Trent jogging up the stairs. Taking a deep, calming breath, I stroll out of the bathroom and into the bedroom just as he enters.
“How was basketball?”
I pour on the kindness.
“It was all right. Forgot how good your brother actually is, though. He kicked my ass.”
Shrugging off his drenched t-shirt and tossing it onto the floor, he comes further into the bathroom.
“He always kicks your ass. Did you forget he played ball in college?”
“No. I didn’t forget.” He slips off his shorts and tosses them onto the floor, too.
I force my gaze away from him because the sight of him makes me sick. He steps into the shower to turn it on and I wait a few minutes to make sure he’s under the spray before I speak again.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Starving but your brother said to stop over any time we want to so I don’t want to eat too much.”
“Okay.”
I close the door behind me and with my phone in my hand I have Zack’s number dialed and the phone pressed to my ear before I even hit the bottom of the stairs.
“Thank Christ,” he answers.
“Zack. I don’t have much time and I need to know what you found out yesterday?”
“Clove. First off, you have no idea how much I wanted to wrap my hands around that piece of scum’s neck and squeeze every last ounce of his breath out of him this morning. Fucker talks to me last night and this morning like he’s my best fucking friend.”
“I know exactly how you feel. I am living with him, remember? Now please give me something. Anything to help me ease my mind.”
His sudden silence is intolerably irksome.
“Zack?”
“I’m here, Clove. I need to tell you everything and I won’t do it over the phone.”
“Zack. I am hanging by a thread, here. God, do you know what I let him do to me yesterday? Do you have any idea what this is doing to me at all?” I have never had to beg my brother for anything in my entire life, but I do now. “Please, Zack?”