Chapter 20.

Curious, Confronting Conversations.

XxX

APOV

I felt the blood drain out of my face, as the full force of Mallick's words sunk in.

Lawrence Gordon? Again? Really? Damn, I thought giddily, he really had crap timing! Trust him to ruin a guy's day with his creepy letter-writing-shit. It wasn't fair. Really, it wasn't. Lawrence (even though Mallick was here, it was painful to bring up his name- even thinking it attacked a wound that was still raw, a wound that hadn't quite healed over just yet), had made it pretty damn clear that he never wanted to speak to me again, so what the hell was up with this creepy letter shit?

Mallick's eyes were wide with sympathy, and quickly, he took my hand. I didn't realise that my whole body was shaking until his touch calmed me. I guessed I was too busy grappling with my past relationship with Lawrence to really notice.

"Adam-"

"What does it say?" I croaked. Mallick's face was engraved with concern.

"Adam, I really don't think I should-"

I deliberately stared deep into Mallick's eyes. How did I not notice how deep and blue they were? Unlike his father's, whose eyes reminded me of chips of ice, Mallick's were more like the ocean- awesome, in other words. But, awesome eyes or not, I couldn't dwell on that fact right now. "Please, Mallick. Tell me what it says."

Mallick exhaled noisily. I could tell right away that he didn't like to do this. "I'll read it out for you, okay? But I still don't like this…"

"Please just read it," I snapped. He sighed, defeated for the moment.

"'Adam- out of rehab, I see. Finally, you're going to do something worthwhile with your life. I'll be watching, to ensure that you make the right choices. L.G.'"

It took me a few moments for Mallick's- well, Lawrence's- words to sink in.

"Jesus!" I exploded. "Doesn't he know that I've had enough of this shit?!"

The pressure on my hand increased. I looked down, to see Mallick's fingers squeezing mine all the more tightly. His awesome blue eyes were riddled with sympathy, and anger- but I knew that his anger wasn't directed at me. He brought his other hand to mine, and began rubbing the top of my hand gently with his available thumb.

It was kind of…relaxing.

"I know," Mallick said softly, "I know."

Suddenly, it was impossible to be angry at him. "Thank you," I whispered honestly, and put my free hand over both of his. "Thanks, Mallick."

"What for?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"For putting up with my shit. I mean, you don't have to, and yet you do…"

A strange little smile tugged at his mouth, and it wasn't happy at all. In fact, it was kind of bitter. Full of self-loathing, even.

"Believe it or not, Adam, I've had to deal with a lot of fucked-up shit in my time. Hell, you can throw me everything you've got, and I could handle it."

Though his words were undoubtedly (a word I had learnt from him as well) meant to be comforting, they had the opposite effect: they chilled me to my very core.

Well. Mallick knew just about all of my gory details, and hadn't been scared off, so…what had happened to him that was so bad?

I wanted to know, so I could get rid of this shitty fake smile and bring back the one that made him so damn hot to begin with.

Hell, I hated bitter, paranoid Mallick. I wanted the man who I was dating back, not this other guy.

"Do you remember the deal I made you ages ago?" I asked, still keeping my hand on top of our other hands. I wouldn't let him escape. Mallick, I loved the guy to bits, but whenever he thought about his past and what had happened to him, he effectively became a shut-in. I didn't like or want that, so I figured, the sooner we talked about this, the better.

Shit. What was I thinking? It seemed like I had gleamed something from Bobby Dagen, after all. Damn that stupid therapist.

Mallick raised an eyebrow. "Deal?" he asked quietly.

"That's right." I leaned in close, closing the gap between us. He squirmed, looking slightly uncomfortable. "'I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours?'"

MPOV

Shit.

I'd forgotten about that.

I mean, it was like it'd happened years ago, not…well, in reality, it wasn't even a month or so ago. Now, normally, I never kept promises (given that I'd even made some back in the days when I was a drug addict and was- who am I kidding?- am still afraid of my own shadow, but this was Adam. He…was my boyfriend, and really special to me. I didn't want to lose him.

But this…speaking about this was something different entirely. Although rehab, and meeting Adam, had certainly helped, I still was nowhere near ready enough to delve into the horrors of my past. At least, I didn't think so.

I stared into my lap. "I already told you," I mumbled. Well, I kind of had. More like outlining what had happened, but still…

"Mallick, I was strung up like a ham in some godforsaken bathroom. I was electrocuted. I was shot in the shoulder. I had to lie there for three damn days, wondering if I'd ever make it out, and hoping against hope that I wasn't going to die. Please tell me, Mallick. I need to know. And I'm pretty damn sure you need to get this off your chest, whatever it is."

"Do I have to?" I asked miserably. Why couldn't the two of us share a happy life without all this bullshit? Like, I was growing tiresome of all of this.

Yet…I couldn't shake the feeling that Adam was right. I really did need to talk about this. I mean, I'd already spoken about it to Joyce Dagen, strictly because she was my counsellor, and she had said that the more often I talked about it, the easier it would be. When I'd told her about it, I'd ended up in tears.

I didn't want to cry in front of Adam. I really didn't. But the weight of what had happened was pressing down on my shoulders, and it felt like actual physical weight, and to be honest, if what Joyce said was true, then I couldn't wait to get rid of it.

Adam glared at me sternly with those big brown eyes of his. "Do I look like someone to be messed with? Yes."

I sighed, and fidgeted uncomfortably. "I just don't want you to leave once you hear this,"" I whispered sullenly, still casting my eyes downwards. How did today suddenly turn so shitty?

Adam leaned forward, and gently pressed his lips against my forehead. I shivered involuntarily. "I'm not going to leave you, Mallick," he whispered. "I'm not a total douche."

"You're not a douche at all," I countered shakily. He grinned at me.

"Nice to know someone thinks so. Come on, Mallick, spill." It wasn't a request. It was- an order. My expression may have been miserable, but I was kind of glowing inside. Adam was so bossy!

I took a deep breath. "Okay, but you're not going to like it," I warned. He shrugged and kept his eyes trained on me. I opened my mouth, tried to speak, but I couldn't find the right words. It was as if a huge lump had formed in my throat, and suddenly I couldn't swallow- or breathe.

All I could think of was the pain, terror, and embarrassment, as the people held me down in an alleyway, stuffing my mouth with a dirty rag so I couldn't scream, and then…

…They started unbuttoning my shirt.

"No," I moaned, and tried to pull my hands out from Adam, but he wasn't having any of that. His grip grew tighter. It wasn't painful, yet it was firm enough to jolt me out of the haze, the haze that burned…

"Mallick. Stay with me here."

"I'm trying," I stuttered, and shivered. I didn't want to tell Adam this- it was too freaking horrible. But a deal was a deal, and I could hardly lie to Adam, could I? If he wasn't my boyfriend, then maybe, but…

Screw it. We'd been through too much together, and after all, Adam HAD been shot in the shoulder.

Plus, I was positive he wouldn't tell anyone.

The next time I opened my mouth, it all came out, in one big, hurried gush:

"You know how my father's a lawyer, right? Well, a few years ago, he convicted three individuals of drug trafficking, assault, and generally being a public nuisance. They were fairly well-off people, and they put up quite a fight. It was a huge accomplishment that Dad could get them locked away, because there was hardly any evidence, and Dad likes to go with his head, you know? He gets 'feelings' about certain people. Anyway, they were pissed off about that. Really pissed off. And you know how they thought they'd get back at Zachary Scott? They went after me."

Adam's eyes went wide, and he looked like he was going to say something, but there was no stopping the flow once it'd started. I rushed on, my words jumbling together, eager to get rid of this weight once and for all:

"They jumped me in an alleyway. They hit me, called me names. Two of them held me down, while the other…well, he…prepared me. Undressed me, I mean. My shirt and my pants. And then he…he tried to rape me."

I burst into tears. Adam put his arm around me, warm and comforting and everything I needed right about now. He didn't say anything, but I could tell that he was mad. Not at me- at the men who had done this to me, most likely. But still, getting this all off my chest felt good and was opening a wound at the same time. The places where they'd grabbed me stung and burned, as if they were still touching me. And yet, Adam was here.

"That's fucking horrible," he said hollowly. He was very pale. I was sure that I looked a hundred times worse.

I nodded weakly, and, despite the lump in my throat returning, I continued:

"One of them laughed at my would-be rapist, and called him a queer. That pissed him off, and he punched him in the face. Then the other one suggested they mark me for life, as a warning to my asshole father, and…they brought out the matches." I shuddered. I was reliving every moment as I spoke, and I could recall all too well the smell of the gasoline. "They soaked my arm in gasoline. They meant to do most of my body. But they were clumsy. Most of it went on the ground, but when they lit the match…my arm caught the full force of gasoline-fuelled fire. Someone heard me screaming through the rag, and them laughing, and the police were called. They ran away before I could actually see them, and y that time, I was too preoccupied with making sure I didn't lose my arm."

My skin had bubbled, and my stomach churned uneasily as I remembered what that had smelled like- burning bacon. Since that night, I'd never eaten bacon again.

I'd staggered away from the fireball in the alleyway, still screaming through my rag, jeans hanging at my knees, shirt unbuttoned all the way- and eventually I found a puddle of water. Since the storm had been the night before, it was fairly large, and I stupidly shoved my arm into it. It kind of helped, but it also forced me to look at what had become of what had once been a fully functional, perfectly ordinary arm.

It was blackened and dead-looking.

I remembered not being to stop screaming.

I shuddered. It had been terrible. I had been in no Jigsaw trap, but still…

Adam shivered along with me. "I don't believe it," he said suddenly.

"I…what?" I choked. Did he think I was making this up?

Adam stared at me, his big brown eyes furious. "I can't believe someone would do that to you! They're fucking assholes!" His voice got louder and louder by the second. I winced. Hopefully Dad wouldn't come home to hear this. "You didn't do anything to them!"

And I saw Adam for who he really was.

He wanted to protect me.

And that was probably the best thing I had ever seen. Seeing him jacked up like that, fierce and protective…well, I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel kind of special. No-one, not even the man who was supposed to be my father, had reacted as violently as Adam had just done.

As I stared at him in a kind of wonder, he leapt to his feet. "I wish I knew who they were," he rumbled. "I'd bash the shit out of them!"

I grabbed hold of his sleeve, and gently pulled him back down to earth. "I never saw their faces," I said quietly. "Otherwise they'd be in jail by now. Dad'd make sure of it."

Adam glared at me. "He shouldn't have let things get to that point in the first place, Mallick. I mean, I still can't believe what they did to you…"

Now that it was off my chest, I felt like a huge weight had been taken off of me. It…felt great. I mean, there was no escaping the fact that my arm had been burnt to a crisp, and I'd taken drugs because of that traumatic experience, but telling someone who actually cared…felt great.

Yeah.

I could get used to telling Adam this kind of stuff.

"So you're not mad at me?" I asked softly, doing my best to avoid his eyes.

Adam smiled at me. "Why the hell would I be mad at you? This isn't your fault."

And then he pulled me into his arms, and all worries about Lawrence, and the three faceless figures all went away for a while.

XxX

This was the first dinner I'd had with my father for a long time. Our table had the capacity to seat fourteen, but with the three of us sitting there, it kind of looked empty.

Not that that mattered. I had Adam beside me, and my father across from us, filling the room with his booming voice. "So when do you think you'll start university again, Mallick?" he asked me. I glanced over at Adam for help, but he was busy stuffing his face- typical Adam.

I smirked. "Not too sure, Dad. I kind of thought I'd hang at home for a while."

"No time like the present," he boomed, and took another swig of wine. I frowned. Dad only ever touched alcohol when he was really happy…or upset. Did something happen? "You should start as soon as you can."

"I don't even know what I'd study," I protested. Adam continued to inhale pork dumplings like he'd never had them before. Then again, maybe he never had. I doubted he'd had much choice of food aside from two-minute noodles back in that dump he'd lived in, with that Ivan asshole as his landlord.

"You always did well at school," Dad persisted. "I'm sure you could study maths, or something."

I scowled. "I hate maths."

Adam looked sideways at me. "Are you sulking, Mallick?" he asked me teasingly.

I widened my eyes in mock alarm. "Me? Never." Ironic, considering what we'd been taking about not two hours ago, but Dad wasn't to know that.

If I had my way, Dad wasn't going to know anything that was happening between me and Adam, because if he did, I had a feeling he wouldn't be happy.

XxX

Later that night, when Adam was snoring next door, I was doing my best to fall asleep, but it wasn't working- I was too full of energy. I hadn't the faintest idea why; I'd been sleeping like a baby, up until an hour ago.

It….something just felt wrong about tonight. Like…someone was watching me.

Or my house.

I eased out of bed, and padded over to the window for want of a better look. I discovered a nice surprise when I peeled back the curtains- Dad had installed a balcony for me! Nice.

Feeling like a ninja, I crept out onto the balcony, and peered into the street below. Dad had deliberately picked a street where majority of the residents were modest, semi-rich elderly people. I think our neighbours were in their seventies, or very close to it.

Suddenly, there was a flash of movement down below. I leaned over the edge of the balcony as far as I dared. My eyes widened.

There was a person. Dressed entirely in black. I would have thought it was Jigsaw himself, except Jigsaw wasn't a woman. He also didn't wear a balaclava.

I was also pretty damn sure that Jigsaw didn't carry envelopes in one hand.

As I watched, the woman bent, and left the envelope on our front doorstep. Then she turned, and fled into the night.

I was left hanging. Literally.

Who the hell WAS that?!