I heard the words to the song, playing quietly in the car while he paused to listen. Something about a broken wing.
“I’m over on Longengate Boulevard. I’ll meet you there in ten.”
Izzy’s body clung tighter to mine as Rod got back into the car and lit another cigar.
“Good news, girls. We’re all set. We’re going to go over and see my friend, Dink.”
“Why?” Izzy asked in a frightened rasp.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re just going to take some photos.”
I relaxed a little. Photos? Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Even at ten, I knew Izzy and I were pretty. People told my mother all the time how pretty we were. Maybe they wanted to put us in a catalogue or something. A lady at a campground once told our mother she should put us in magazines.
After the first initial meeting with Dink, it’s sort of a blur. Neither one of them hurt us. Not by touching us anyway. Not really. The only time one of them touched us was to pose us in different positions or move our legs out. We just did it, because we didn’t know what else to do. We let them take our clothes off and became the product of child-pornography.
Rod didn’t lie to us though. As soon as he was finished with the photo shoot, he took us to McDonald’s, got us an ice-cream cone, and dropped us off at the front of the hotel with a fifty-dollar bill and the hotel key.
“Thanks for your time, ladies. Thank your crack-whore momma, too. Just don’t tell her our secret, okay?” he asked while using a gun-finger to point at Izzy and then me. The imaginary gunshot was enough to scare any little girl.
At least we got the hotel for the night, and a good meal. Our mother slept, passed out naked on the bed. I covered her up and tossed the used condom into the trash with a hotel pen. Izzy removed the band from her arm and brushed dark hair from her face.
My mom stirred and turned to her side. “Mmm, my Clydes. I love you, my pretties,” she slurred. And then she was out.
Izzy and I never spoke of our photo shoot. We didn’t have to. I knew how she felt, and she knew how I felt. We were twins. We felt everything the other one did. I’m pretty sure it had been that way since before birth. My mom told us that every time she laid us down together, we either held hands or locked elbows. That’s what we did on the other bed. Izzy and I stared at the television, elbows locked, internally processing what had happened to us.
Izzy and I never told our mother, we never spoke of it, and I have no idea what became of the pictures. I suppose they’re still out there somewhere. Probably somewhere on the internet now, but I’d never seen them. I didn’t want to see them. I was an adult. They wouldn’t look like me now, anyway.
~~
My eyes opened to the dark room. A heavy lump swelled in my chest and heavy emotions washed through me, like I wanted to cry. My heart hurt for both little girls. I knew that had happened to me. I knew that it had happened to Izzy, but why that? Why did I keep putting pieces together that hurt, that made me sad, and made me miss my mom and Izzy? Why couldn’t I remember who I was now? This day. Not years ago.
I got up and walked to the bathroom, trying to compartmentalize my new memory, the one I didn’t want to remember. The thought to try to go back to sleep wasn’t there. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted something else. I just didn’t know what.
I strolled out to the kitchen, poured a glass of apple juice, and made my way to the breezeway. Sultry air filled my lungs. I moved to the far end and sat on the concrete wall, overlooking a breathtaking view. The moon was bright and shined off the deep sea. If I could describe a mood, it was that night. Nothing stirred. Nothing but the roar of the distant ocean and the soft breeze.
And the sound of a sob. I don’t even know where it came from. It swelled in my chest and spilled over.
“Gabriella,” I heard in a quiet tone from behind me.
I snorted and shook my head. “Go away, Paxton. Leave me alone.”
If only it was that easy. I sucked in a deep breath while he closed the distance between us, and then I held the air in my lungs.
Paxton wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Why are you crying?”
I snorted again. “You’re a fucking idiot. Anybody ever tell you that?”
Paxton spun me around to face him, but it wasn’t the anger I’d expected. His hands held my face, forcing me to look at him. I did, but I didn’t really see him. I saw a dark silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are. I can’t handle this. I just want things to go back to the way they were before you took off to God knows where.”
“Is that what you really want, Pax? You want me to be that person? Your person?”
“It’s what you agreed to. We had a deal, and you’re fucking it all up,” Paxton said out of desperation. His thumb brushed a tear from my eye and his lips kissed mine.
“I have a feeling you’ve never known me. You know nothing about me.”
Paxton sighed and dropped his hands. His arms crossed and he looked to his bare feet. “That’s the way it was supposed to be. That was the deal. I never wanted to know you. Not until now.”
“What does that mean, Paxton?”
“Come in here. I want to show you something.”
Paxton took my hand and I followed, feeling so overwhelmed. So lost, and broken.
Chapter Twelve
Paxton unlocked his office door and I looked around. Nope. Nothing. Not one thing felt familiar.
“Sit,” he ordered.
I sat in Paxton’s leather chair and he reached around me. Every room in the house came alive. I had been on camera ever since I’d met him.
“Look at the difference in you. This footage was taken the day before your accident.”
I watched with outrage, shock, and confusion. One second I felt raped, and the next puzzled. It was me. I was in the kitchen, dressed, hair done, makeup on, and breakfast on the table. The microwave said six-thirty, and I could tell by the brewing coffee and the darkness behind the doors that it was morning.
Paxton walked in, carrying work boots. After setting them to the floor, he strolled over and kissed me. A pang of anger shot through my chest when I watched him hold my jaw and say something. Something out of anger.
“I can’t hear it,” I said. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know a typical day. The life of Gabriella Pierce—pre-accident.
“You don’t need to hear it. That’s not my point. Just watch,” Paxton said. His arm went over me again and he sped up the feed and turned up the volume. “Listen how you talk to the girls here,” he said as the video moved ahead to breakfast with Rowan and Ophelia.”
“Rowan, sit up straight. Eat your breakfast,” I said from the island.
A fight broke out from nowhere. Ophelia used her napkin and she screamed. The look on my face was always the same. It never changed. Not from happy to sad, or angry to scared. Nothing. I was emotionless.
My expression never even changed when Paxton entered the kitchen. He settled the fight in a split second. Both girls sat up and ate.
“Can you do anything to help out around here?” Paxton said through the speakers, lips on mine.
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “How could I do anything when you didn’t even give me time?”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Gabriella. Look.” Paxton switched to another folder. A couple of days ago. I remembered that day. Both girls were sitting on the bar stools, eating apple slices. Ophelia took a slice from Rowans plate and licked it. Rowan did the same to hers, but Ophelia screamed a shrill, extremely long, ear-piercing scream.