The woman long entrenched in his soul lay critically injured before his eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
"Brenda!" he shouted as he worked to free her from the toppled bookcase. "Brenda, help's on its way, okay? We're going to get you out. Just keep your focus on me, baby."
"Baby," Brenda murmured. She rested her hand on her side and then withdrew it.
The sight of her crimson-soaked hand spurred him on.
"I'm losing the baby, aren't I?" she asked.
"No," said Dylan firmly, "our baby is fine. You're both fine."
"Do you see the light, Dylan?" asked Brenda. A serene smile settled upon her face.
"I don't," he said, "and neither do you."
"You can't save us," she said. "You have to save yourself."
"There won't be any me to save if I can't save my family."
"Your family wouldn't need saving if you hadn't sprinted," yelled the voice behind Dylan.
"Shut up!" roared Dylan; though if it was to himself, or to Jim, he couldn't be sure. "Bren, I need you to turn your back and run like hell away from that light, okay? Do it for me. I - I can't - I can't li -"
"Okay," said Brenda, resting her palm against his cheek. "But if you have to choose between me and our daughter -"
"There will be no choice," said Dylan.
His next words faded in a gelid gust of wind.
An all-too-familiar gelid gust of wind.
"Shut the fucking window!" he yelled. "Now!"
"What window?" asked Brandon, who stood right beside it.
"I think he means this window," said Jim.
Neither made a move to shut it.
Dylan clung to Brenda.
"You - you gotta shut the window," he said. "Please shut the fucking window."
"Why don't you come over and shut it yourself?" asked Jim.
"Bren needs me!" said Dylan.
"My daughter needs you in tip-top shape and the longer you leave the window open, the longer it will take for you to be the person who can best care for her," said Jim.
"Brandon, shut the window!"
"Dad's right," said Brandon. "Shut it yourself. You like to be by yourself."
"I don't - I don't want to be by myself," said Dylan.
"Too late," said Brandon. "You pushed everyone away, and now my sister is hurt because of it."
"She's about to become more hurt if you don't shut the fucking window!"
Dylan shielded Brenda with his entire body as the avalanche hit.
"I loved you, Dylan," she said, "and you left. You left me like everyone always leaves you."
"I won't leave ever again," he swore. "It's you and me and our little family, until long after the clock shatters and the world is no more."
"Now is too late," said Brenda, before succumbing to the avalanche.
"Bren!" Dylan tried to dig her out. His hands bled in the raw air, but he continued digging. "No! Bren! Come back!"
"Dylan," whispered the air.
"How does it feel to destroy everyone you love?" asked Brandon.
He, too, became buried by the avalanche.
"Jim! Don't just stand there! Help me get them out!" Dylan pleaded.
"Dylan," the air said again.
"You've lost them because of your own actions, Dylan," said Jim, tossing him a beer.
The bottle shattered beside what remained of the previously vivacious Brenda.
"For - forgive me," Dylan sobbed, leaning over her. "Please forgive me. And come - come back."
"Dylan!" said the voice as the crystal chandelier crashed to the ground.
Dylan bolted upwards, taking in his surroundings through bleary eyes.
The cabin. He was in the cabin.
The night outside was clear, without an avalanche in sight.
He was shrouded in sweat, which Brenda worked to remove.
Brenda.
"You're - you're alive," he gasped, flinging himself on her.
He buried his head in her neck as Brenda soothed his back.
"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry. We've - we've lost her. Because of - because of me. I - I destroy everything."
Brenda pulled away, just enough to grasp Dylan's face in her hands. "Lost her?" asked Brenda. "We haven't lost her." Reaching for Dylan's hand, she settled both of their hands along her stomach. "See? Surfing away. Or maybe she's practicing her horseback riding skills."
Dylan shook the tears out of his eyes as he held his family close. "You're both okay?" he asked, wanting verbal confirmation despite feeling their movements for himself.
"We're fine," said Brenda. "You aren't. Want to talk about it?"
Dylan didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to ruin their perfectly lovely evening by discussing a nightmare.
Especially a nightmare that had been borne of a truth.
He had sprinted, Dylan told himself, and his family had been hurt.
He wanted, instead, to focus on their moonlit stroll through the trees, the way Brenda had become electrified during their stargazing and had shown a genuine interest as Dylan told her the stories of the stars. The s'mores they had made with Brenda's stash of Fazer bars, or how they had fallen asleep intertwined beside the cookstove.
"Are you sure you're fine?" he asked, roaming his hands over every part of Brenda. "No contractions? Concerning pain?"
"None," she said. "I did have a bit of a headache earlier, but nothing to worry about."
Dylan massaged Brenda's temples.
"How's that?" he asked.
"Better," she smiled. "Now, let me help you feel better."
"Knowing you're both fine is already helping me feel better."
"Dylan, you kept screaming Brandon's and my names. Plus saying something about a window."
"You have too much goin' on to be worrying about me."
"Well, you're the father of my daughter, my best friend, and the man who just woke up beside me in a complete terror, so of course I'm going to worry about you."
"You're thirty weeks pregnant," said Dylan. "You don't need this kind of stress."
"It's K2, isn't it?" asked Brenda. "Your nightmare? The window? Was it about K2?"
"Partially." Heaving a sigh, Dylan kissed the top of Brenda's head and pressed his back against the edge of the sofa.
"You said it haunts you in your sleep," said Brenda. "Like the train does me."
"It does," said Dylan. "So does the train."
"Let's go." Brenda began to use the sofa to raise herself off of the floor.
"Go where?" asked Dylan as he helped her up. "Home?"
"Not at this time of night," said Brenda. "Strip down to your boxers and meet me outside," she ordered.
Dylan's eyebrows raised at the sudden shift.
"What are you up to?" he asked.
Brenda removed her clothing until only her lingerie remained.
Dylan drank in her figure, transfixed on the curves he swore weren't there before their sleep.
Her navel, he noticed, had begun to turn outward.
Brenda slipped into her shoes.
"Meet me outside," she repeated, closing the cabin door behind her.
Grappling with the hook of his jeans, Dylan cursed snaps and zippers alike.
He ran out the door, slowing down only when he saw her.
"Took you long enough," she said.
"Zipper was stuck," he muttered, entranced by Brenda's half-concealed, half-revealed form under a sliver of moon that cast more shadow than light. "Why are you standing by the lake?"
"We both want to stop screaming, for her. Right?" asked Brenda.
"Right," said Dylan.
"Then we need to scream until we can't scream anymore." Brenda waded into the lake.
"Bren, get outta there!" said Dylan. "The water's gotta be freezing."
"Actually, it feels quite nice," said Brenda as she treaded water.
Tilting her head back, she yelled up at the night sky.
"I'm terrified I'll be stuck on the train forever!"
Dylan nearly told Brenda she wouldn't be, until he realized why she had waded into the water.
He followed her.
"Now your turn," said Brenda. "You don't have to tell me about K2, if you don't want to. You don't have to tell anyone, not even your therapist. But the memory of K2 terrifies you. It claws at you and tells you things, doesn't it?"
"Spot-on," said Dylan, gaping at Brenda.
"The train does that to me," she said. "It tells me if I hadn't gone on the tour, or if I'd left early like Cindy said I wanted to, I'd still have my memories and my friends would still be alive. That if I'd stayed in London, with you, my emotions would be more stable."
Dylan stopped himself from comforting Brenda, recognizing that they had both been bottling blame inside that needed to be freed before they could move on.
"Did you lose friends?" asked Brenda. "On K2?" she added before Dylan had the chance to think she meant the train.
"I did," said Dylan. He closed his eyes, allowing the forbidden memories to fill him. "Wilhelm. Ronnie. Zach's leg. Your ring."
"My ring?" asked Brenda.
Dylan opened his eyes. "Your ring," he breathed out. "I'd - I'd found the perfect ring for you, at a little shop in the village. It - I - I don't know where it went."
"Were we engaged, then?" asked Brenda.
"We should've been," said Dylan. "We would've been. I'd - I'd planned to propose around your birthday. Shane and Zahur were going to help me surprise you with a trip."
He had tracked down the home of Brenda's great-grandfather, in Ireland's County Kilkenny, and had planned to bring her there.
As with most of his plans, their trip had fallen through.
"But my birthday's in November," said Brenda. "And our fight was in October."
"I was ready to marry you, Bren." Dylan laced his hand through hers.
"What changed?" she asked.
"Didn't think you'd say yes to an addict," he said. "I tried to get it under control, at first, on my own. Then I just stopped trying."
"We must've been intensely in love if you were considering marrying me," said Brenda.
"We were."
"Was I ready to marry you?"
"I don't know. We hadn't really talked about it. I kinda got the impression that you were waiting to see if we'd last before bringing it up, and I didn't want to pressure you in case you thought I was still grieving."
Brenda again shouted at the sky, this time telling it she didn't know whether she was capable of falling in love again.
It pained Dylan for Brenda to think that.
"I'll be here when you figure it out," he said.
"I've shouted twice," she said. "Now you have to shout."
"It won't stress you out?"
"It'll stress me out more if you don't shout."
As a precaution, Dylan put more space between them before following Brenda's example.
He did not release her hand, even when he was barely holding on.
"I fear I'll destroy everyone I love, the way my father did!" he hollered at the sky. "I'm fucking terrified of ending up like him!"
"There," said Brenda. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Felt kinda good," Dylan admitted.
"Now you go again," said Brenda.
Dylan shared his fear of losing everyone he loved, whether through catastrophic events, his choice to leave, or their choice to abandon him.
"Did you think I had abandoned you when I left for that tour?" asked Brenda.
Dylan said he hadn't, adding that he had been more concerned she would leave when she returned.
"I read something, in my diary," she said.
"What'd you read?" he asked.
"Why didn't you tell me I broke up with you and hurt you after we had a pregnancy scare?" she asked.
"I didn't want you to think that it came anywhere close to how much I hurt you," said Dylan.
"It doesn't have to be a competition," said Brenda. "I read about how broken you seemed and how terrible I felt for hurting you."
"You did what you had to do," said Dylan. "Just as you did in London."
Brenda swam closer.
"Was me breaking up with you the reason you crushed your ribs?" she asked.
"That was more about my father," said Dylan. "I was so angry with him."
"Why were you angry with him?" asked Brenda.
Dylan swung her towards him, until she was comfortably in his arms.
"I was angry that he'd gotten himself thrown in prison right at a time when I could've really used a parent to help me through my first major heartache," he said.
"I was your first major heartache?"
"You were my first major relationship, Bren. The first girl I ever got serious about. The first time I knew what love was."
"Were you my first, too?"
Dylan maneuvered Brenda onto his lap.
"Not to sound cocky," he said, "but I was your first everything. With one exception."
"One exception?"
"I wasn't your first kiss, or the first guy you liked."
"That's two exceptions."
"But I was your first boyfriend. First love. First guy you slept with. And the only guy who's gotten my baby in your belly." Dylan bit his lip. "Did I say too much?" he asked.
"No," said Brenda. "You said just enough."
"I also might be the only guy who's ever destroyed you," Dylan felt the need to add.
"I read that, too."
"You - you read it?" Telling Brenda about their senior year had hurt her enough. For her to read it herself, in her own words, Dylan thought would be the end of them. "Do you - do you want me to go back to California?" he coughed out.
"Why, do you want to go back?" asked Brenda.
"I just figured…"
"You figured I'd yell at you like I did the night Clare found me."
"I'm sure you had some choice words for me in that diary."
"Dylan, did Steve tell you I hugged him?"
That threw Dylan off course.
"Ah, no; he didn't."
"Dylan, before you came, the only person I let myself be hugged by was Brandon. And even Brandon couldn't hug me for long increments. But you - since the moment you embraced me the day we re-met, I don't have a limit with you. Even when I was angry with you and wouldn't let you near, I'd still let you find little ways to touch me. Yes, you did things to hurt me in our past, and I did things to hurt you. But you've also provided me with the most comfort I've felt since my accident. I mean, I'm sitting on your lap, in my wet lingerie, and I'm not scared."
"If you want me to peel off that lingerie and satisfy any cravings -" Dylan began.
"I can't be with you until I know if I'm capable of loving you the way the girl in the diary loved you," said Brenda. "The way the girl in your play loves Tiberius. She ran to Tiberius' side when he was injured and," Brenda stopped, "so did the girl in the diary. Your play; it's about us?"
Dylan had begun to wonder if Brenda would ever figure it out.
"I'm Tatiana?" she asked.
"Every Tiberius needs a Tatiana," said Dylan.
"Tatiana's in love with Tiberius," said Brenda. "The girl in the diary was in love with you."
"How about the girl in front of me?" asked Dylan. "How does she feel?"
"She loves you," said Brenda. "She knows that much. But is it the right kind of love? The kind spoken about in diary entries and plays? That's what I can't figure out."
"And you think Luca will help you figure it out."
It wasn't a question; merely a statement, one that hardly held any meaning since Dylan was fixed on Brenda's words.
She had told him she loved him.
They had gone from apathy, to friendship, to anger, to acquaintance, back to friendship and now, Brenda had admitted her love for him.
That she didn't know what kind of love she felt for him barely had Dylan bothered.
The woman he loved knew she loved him and therefore, he had conquered her barriers.
"I don't live with Luca," said Brenda. "I don't have an intimacy with him that you and I have. I don't feel half as close to Luca as I do to you. But how do I know that I'm not just grateful to you about all the ways you've taken care of me? The girl in the diary; she was unsure about her decision. She acted out of fear. That uncertainty, that fear; it hurt you and it hurt her. I don't want to hurt either of us. I want to be sure and right now, I can't be."
"I understand."
He did; somewhat.
"You're already giving me plenty," he added as he swam them out of the lake. "You're giving me the chance to be a father, and that's the greatest thing anyone's ever done for me."
Dylan asked Brenda to tell him more details about when she had learnt of their impending parenthood.
"It was during one of my many tests," she said. "They had me pee in a cup, for another reason entirely. I'd felt nauseous earlier that morning, but I figured that was to be expected after waking up from an injury such as mine."
"Brandon was there, right?" asked Dylan. "When you woke up?"
"He must've flown in sometime during the three days I was out. There was a flicker of a second when I couldn't think of his name, but then when he started speaking to me, I knew that was my brother. I knew that was Brandon. And I knew as long as he was there, I could handle anything the tests threw my way."
Brenda told Dylan about the pamphlets covering her different options.
"I didn't need different options," she said. "I knew exactly what I was going to do, so I ran to literally the only person I knew who could help me do it."
"And now we've ten weeks to go," said Dylan fondly.
"Less, if she's early."
"More, if she's as late as her mama always is."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, they made a whole timezone just for you, Bren."
"They don't make timezones just for one person, Dyl."
"If I wanted to, I could buy you your own timezone."
"Well, now you're just trying to make me laugh."
"And it's working."
He walked them back into the cabin, drying off Brenda as best he could before watching her again nod off.
He didn't try to sleep, but somehow, sleep found him.
They woke just before the sunrise, with Brenda hurrying them out the door so they could see it in all its glory above the moss-covered cliffs.
Dylan held her in front of him as Brenda commented on each color swirling through the sky.
"Is this the first sunrise we've watched together?" asked Brenda.
"It isn't," said Dylan, "but it is the first sunrise we've seen over cliffs. Also the first sunrise the three of us have seen together."
That seemed to satisfy Brenda.
She suggested they spend the day exploring Helsinki and other nearby locales. Unwilling to end their time alone, Dylan agreed, and called David to cover the shop for the day.
"Silver's dealing with something," said Steve, who had picked up David's phone. "I'll cover the store."
"Thanks, but no thanks," said Dylan. "I'll just ask Bren for a raincheck."
"I'm perfectly capable of handling the store," said Steve.
"Your shift at the Pit says otherwise."
"I did run a successful newspaper, you know."
"Co-run a small newspaper."
"The woman you want to be your wife is asking to hang out with you for the day, and you're gonna turn her down because you're worried about me running things?"
Dylan looked over at Brenda reading her diary in the car.
"Don't burn the place down," said Dylan before returning to Brenda's side.
"Is David going into the shop?" asked Brenda.
"Steve is," said Dylan.
"I hope you got that insurance I told you about," said Brenda.
"We did," said Dylan. "Anything interesting in there?"
"You went to Hawaii and I imagined you a lot while you were gone."
"Funny." Dylan started the car. "I did the same thing."
They ferried out to Suomenlinna, holding hands the entire time they walked the old eighteenth century sea fortress.
When Brenda's body called for a rest, they returned to Helsinki to stroll through the city's museums and galleries.
They stopped in a small café, where Brenda asked Dylan to describe the moment he knew he could love her.
Then the moment he knew he did.
"I knew when we sat outside Silver's grandparents' place and started discussing our future grandchildren that if I had any, they'd be yours," said Dylan. "Pretty scary thought at sixteen, to be thinking that far ahead. Realized then how deep I was."
"Grandchildren?" asked Brenda.
"Well, we are a step closer," said Dylan.
"Not even out of the womb and we're already talking about our daughter's children," said Brenda.
Dylan kept himself from bringing up the other children he knew Brenda would give him.
"She doesn't get to have kids until she's forty," said Dylan. "Gonna be a long wait, Grandma."
We'll have a bunch of kids to keep us busy in the meantime, thought Dylan.
"Should we have waited until we were forty?" asked Brenda.
"We aren't her," said Dylan.
"Double standards," said Brenda.
"Alright, when she gets to be our age, we'll reassess."
"No running background checks on her prom date."
"Can't promise Brandon won't," said Dylan.
He directed Brenda into a cellular shop, where he insisted on purchasing a new mobile for her.
She didn't need to have it turned on all the time, said Dylan, as he knew that the strident ring could be jarring for Brenda.
"But if you want to come into the city on your own, then you've got to have it on you to call us in case of emergency," said Dylan.
Brenda allowed him to purchase the phone, though she insisted that she would reimburse him with her wages.
"What's Val's number?" she asked.
"Should I text it to you?" asked Dylan.
"I don't think the first text I get from you on this phone should be another girl's number," Brenda teased.
Dylan spoke the number aloud.
"Done," said Brenda. "I asked her if she has Kai's number."
"I have that," said Dylan.
"You have Kai's number?"
"It's not top-secret or anything. We were working on some stuff together."
"Then can you ask him for Clare's number?"
Dylan spoke that number aloud, too.
"Can I assume the reason you have Clare's number has to do with me?" asked Brenda.
"You've assumed correctly," he said. "Should I delete it?"
"No reason to. I just didn't expect you to have her number."
Brenda sent another text, and then closed her phone.
"I asked Clare to check on the shop if she gets a chance," said Brenda. "She doesn't need to know David's not there."
"Sneaky," said Dylan.
"They're stubborn," said Brenda. "They need a bit of a push."
"Your mum's decided to take up matchmaking," Dylan told Brenda's dress. "Think we should buy her an office for her to meet with her clientele?"
"It's not matchmaking," said Brenda. "Steve and Clare clearly have something they need to talk about and neither want to take that step, so I'm just helping them along. Plus this way, our shop will still be intact when we get back."
"You're just so helpful," said Dylan.
"If I really wanted to matchmake, I'd call up this D'Shawn person Donna likes and tell him Donna likes him." Brenda opened her phone. "You don't happen to have D-Shawn's -"
"Nope," said Dylan. "Think I have Noah's number in here somewhere, if you want to break up with him for Donna."
"I forgot about Noah," said Brenda.
"Not hard to do," said Dylan.
"Would I like him? Val, Don, and Kel all have."
"He's not your type. Plus, he stole your room."
"He stole my room?"
"Okay, technically he took Val's room, but it was your room first."
"Maybe I should call him up and demand he get out of our room," said Brenda.
"Or we could grab a room." Dylan stopped them in front of a luxury hotel. "Should we try for a second night, Bren? It'll be easier to get to the studio tomorrow."
"I doubt our experience here is going to be half as amazing as at the cabin," said Brenda.
"Only one way to find out," said Dylan, tugging Brenda into the ornately designed hotel.
Then tried a few more hotels, until they found one that had the vacancy to accept a spur-of-the-moment reservation.
Dylan hadn't been able to trade on his money or his name to book a room in the hotels that had claimed full occupancy.
He found he rather liked learning that some businesses couldn't be bribed.
"Sorry it's not a five-star," he told Brenda. "You deserve all the five-stars."
"I don't care about that," said Brenda, slipping off her shoes. "Right now, all I need is a good soak in the tub before we go out again."
"We're going out again?" asked Dylan as he helped Brenda out of her dress.
"This time, I'm surprising you," said Brenda.
Dylan watched her walk off.
Just before Brenda entered the bathroom, she let her bra fall to the floor.
It was the first time since London that Brenda had felt comfortable enough to display her unobscured breasts in front of Dylan.
Her unobscured breasts that seemed to have doubled two or more cup sizes than he had known them to be, full of the milk that their child would feed off of.
Dylan lowered himself to the bed, weakened knees and all.
If Brenda trusted Dylan enough to bare her breasts in front of him outside of the tub, then surely Brenda had begun to figure out exactly how she felt about him.
Even if she didn't realize it.
Sayonara, König.
xx
The man she had yet to successfully kick out of her heart lay writhing before her eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
"David!" she yelled, trying to dart between him and the gun her mother had trained on him.
Valerie, however, could not move a muscle.
"David!" she called again. "Abby! Drop the gun!"
"It's because of you the man I loved, married, and had children with is dead," said Abby Malone in a deadpan, her blonde hair held together in a tight ponytail. "My Victor was a wonderful man, until you came along."
"No," said Val. "No. He - he deserved it. He took my youth. My innocence." She sent a frantic look in David's direction. "David, get out of here!"
"I'm not leaving you alone with her," said David.
"I can handle this," said Val.
"Val, she's holding a gun, and you still believe you're the one who killed your father?" asked David.
"You could have been born ugly." Abby looked over Valerie with a distasteful, repugnant expression. "You drew Victor to you. Your beauty, your flirtation, your seduction. It drew him in."
"Shut up," said David. "Your husband was a monster."
"My husband fell victim to our daughter," said Abby. "It wasn't the first, and it won't be the last man to fall victim to Valerie's machinations."
"I know what this is," said Val. "You aren't my mother. You're me. You're all the things I told myself every time Victor would touch me. Everything I tell myself when I'm crawling through the dark and can't find a life preserver around for miles."
"David; he can't be seduced by me," Abby continued. "I can't draw him in, the way you can. But why should your David live when my Victor is dead?"
"He's - he's not my David," said Val, hoping that fact alone would deter her mother.
"Oh, but he is your David," said Abby. "And rest assured, Valerie, if David continues to dig into the death of your father; well," Abby sneered, "you'll destroy another person you love. Or claim to love. As you destroyed my husband."
"I didn't destroy Victor," Valerie insisted. "He tried to destroy me."
"Haven't you ever wondered why everyone leaves you?" asked Abby. "It's because you push them past their breaking points, Valerie Eugenia. Anyone who tries to help you loses interest. Anyone else, you destroy. You were a mistake. I should've never brought you into this world. Our lives would have been much better without you in them."
"Don't listen to her, Val!" said David.
"You destroyed Brenda just by knowing her," Abby went on. "You destroyed Brandon when you were determined to destroy his relationship with Kelly. Do you honestly believe Brandon has forgiven you for that? Or Brenda has forgiven you for sleeping with Dylan? Your sluttish inclinations destroy everyone."
"I am not a slut just because I like casual sex," said Val.
"If that were true, you would not have needed to test yourself for HIV," said Abby. "You would not have slept with the photographer immediately after David broke up with you. You would not have slept with my fiancé."
"I'm not listening." Valerie raised her hands to her ears. "People try to destroy me. You. Victor. Johnny. But you can't. I can't be destroyed. My twins can't be destroyed, especially not by me."
"You can't," Abby agreed. "Brenda can. Brandon can. You'll hurt them, Valerie; time and time again. It's all you know how to do: hurt people. As you have hurt David, who can be destroyed and will be destroyed, by your hand. Bye bye, Little Silver," Abby added as she pulled the trigger.
Val screamed.
"Valerie, honey!" she heard in the rush of satin that darted through her door.
"Dave - David," Valerie trembled. "He's - he's dead. I kil - I killed him. Like I - like I killed Victor."
She crumpled into Cindy's arms.
"Call David," Val thought she heard.
"What does Val mean?" asked Brandon. "Mom, I thought Mr. Malone committed suicide?"
"Valerie's had a nightmare," said Cindy. "She's only repeating what she saw happen in her sleep."
Valerie repeated David's name, over and over again on a loop until she wore herself out with her crying.
She awoke in the strong hours of daylight to her head not resting on a pillow, but rather on a rumpled T-shirt that used to be part of her wardrobe.
Valerie slowly extracted herself.
"Hey." David looked over Valerie with ample concern. "Rough night, huh?"
"What are you doing here?" she asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.
"I usually come here," David reminded her. "Almost daily, in fact."
"Don't be a smart ass," said Val. "You know I meant very well what you're doing, holding me in my bed."
"Cindy called me," he said. "About two o'clock in the morning. Said you kept crying my name. I rushed over here. You haven't let me go since. Seemed to think I'd died, or something?"
"I appreciate you coming over, but this doesn't change anyth -"
"Your nightmares are back, aren't they?" David cut in.
"Tenfold," Val sighed. "Fiftyfold, last night."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Everyone has enough going on themselves. Brandon's set on taking care of Brenda, when he's not trying to become a workaholic. Dylan and Brenda are working through their own traumas. Steve; he's got something going on, too. And you; you made it clear when you broke up with me that you don't want to be dragged into my problems."
"Val, you're so fixed on what I said then that you don't realize all my actions since have told you otherwise."
"David, I need you to stop looking into my father's death. Okay? Just accept that I killed him."
"Was that what your nightmare was about?" Undeterred, David smoothed down Valerie's hair.
She loved it when he did that.
She couldn't love it.
She couldn't love anything about him.
"Stop that," she said, swatting his hand away.
"You liked when I did that this morning," said David.
"This morning, I was barely awake to comprehend anything you did," said Val.
"Give me one good reason why I should stop looking into that monster's death when I know you've taken on the blame of something you didn't do," said David.
"Because it'll destroy you," said Val. "I'll - I'll destroy you. If Abby - if she killed Victor, then she could be capable of anything."
"You're afraid Abby will hurt me?"
"That's a bit cocky."
"You're afraid Abby will hurt me," David repeated.
"My family hurts everyone, David. If you get too deep into this, you could be next."
"So you're admitting you do care about me," David grinned.
"Of course you'd jump to that conclusion when I'm trying to save your fucking life," grumbled Val. She tried to not dwell on how David's grin managed to get to her every time.
"A life you want us to spend together," said David.
"Whatever," said Val. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't follow."
She hoped the steam would calm her rocketing thoughts, the fears that threatened to paralyze her.
After everything Victor had done to her, everything he had put her through, Val didn't care who had killed him.
But did she want to be a cold-blooded killer?
That, she didn't have an answer for.
She turned to see David standing behind her.
"What part of don't follow is so hard for you to grasp?" asked Val.
"I won't follow you in, but after how I found you earlier, you'll have to excuse me if I'm not willing to let you be alone anytime soon," said David.
"I'm used to the nightmares," said Val.
"Do you normally wake up, screaming my name?" asked David.
He had her there.
Valerie decided that if David was going to insist in standing in her bathroom, Val would act as if he wasn't there.
Maintaining eye contact with David, she slid down first her silk panties, and then her lace bra.
She saw the lust in David's eyes; the want and desire she felt herself.
But she wouldn't give into it.
"Don't know how you ever thought you could successfully pull off a fake pregnancy," said David as he continued to stare at her.
"I would've found a way," said Val, purposely wiggling her ass in David's face. "If you're so starved for sex, I bet there's a girl or two at the club who'd be willing to give you some."
"She says as if she doesn't look over every time I'm even near another girl not named Brenda or Kelly," said David.
"What'd you say?" hollered Valerie. "Can't hear you over the shower!"
"You can have all the sex you want, Val, with any guy you want it with, but don't stand there and act like all I ever wanted from you was sex."
"That's all anyone ever wants from me," Val mumbled into the steam. "And they know I'm willing to give it."
True to his word, David stuck close to Valerie's side.
Val consequently flirted with any man who drew near.
She had learnt to weaponize flirtation from an early age.
Wasn't that what Victor had told her when Valerie had cried that he was hurting her?
That she had brought it on herself, because of her flirtatious behavior.
Valerie had believed that lie for years.
Occasionally, in the moments when she felt particularly depressed, she still believed it.
"I know what you're doing," said David.
"Oh you do, do you?" asked Valerie.
"It's your MO, Val. Turn on the charm with other guys, hoping to piss me off enough that I'll go away. Too bad for you it isn't gonna work."
"Hey, if you want to see your ex flirt with other people, then be my guest."
"Most exes wouldn't wake up terrified they killed their ex," said David.
"Nightmares don't mean anything," said Val.
"Might want to tell that to Cindy, then."
"What?" Halting in her tracks, Valerie pretended a store window had caught her attention.
"You told Brandon and Cindy that you killed Victor," said David.
Val watched her reflection become ashen in a television screen the store had placed in the window.
"You - you told them it was part of the nightmare, right?" she asked.
"I didn't tell them anything," said David.
"Why not?" asked Val. "You told Kelly."
"I didn't tell Kelly you think you killed your father."
"Oh no, you just told Kelly all about poor wittle Val being sexually abused."
"Val, you need to talk to someone about this."
"I have talked to someone about this, and he went straight to his sister."
"So you're just gonna keep letting the fear control you? Letting the nightmares terrorize you?"
"I don't want to talk to a fucking therapist, David."
"Maybe you don't need to."
"Should I take out an ad, then? Hire a skywriter? Tell the whole world?"
"I mean, maybe you should consider talking to Cindy about it. You should've seen how she looked this morning, Val. Like both of her daughters were hurting, and she was helpless to stop the pain for either of them."
Valerie was tempted to tell Cindy.
But Cindy had, once upon a time, asked Abby to be one of her bridesmaids. Victor had been one of Jim's groomsmen.
There wasn't any way Cindy would consider Valerie's version to be the truth.
Adults never believed her stories.
"Feeling better?" Cindy asked as David and Valerie returned to the house.
"I'll be in the other room, if you need me," said David with a rub of Valerie's shoulder.
"He's sweet on you," Cindy noted as David left.
"He's just confused," said Val. "Has been ever since last spring."
"What happened last spring?" asked Cindy.
"Nothing," said Val. "Are you cooking?" she asked.
"Brandon's busy working on articles and Brenda called to say she and Dylan are out again tonight. I figured I'd busy myself by preparing some dinners."
"Looks like enough for a week," said Val. "Did you ever consider opening a restaurant or catering company, Aunt Cindy?"
"Sometimes, cooking for one's family is like owning a restaurant, Valerie."
"Just saying." Valerie ladled up some of Cindy's sauce and slurped it up. "Damn. That's five-star Michelin right there. Hope you're making lasagna. Bren's been trying to make it lately, but she doesn't have it quite down yet."
"She's getting there," said Cindy. "That baked ziti gave me a run for my money."
"Maybe Bren will let you teach her," said Val.
"Do you think so?" Cindy tried to keep her face expressionless, but Valerie saw the hope breaking through.
"How are you doing, Aunt Cindy?" she asked. "I'm sure Bren won't be cautious of you forever."
"Oh, you don't need to worry about me," said Cindy.
"We're family, aren't we? I thought families worry about each other."
Most families, Val silently added.
"It's just hard watching my family fall apart and knowing I could've done something about it if I'd put my foot down years ago," said Cindy.
"You didn't know about Jim's threat."
"I didn't know about the specifics, but I could tell something was going on with Dylan. I let my anger take over, let it blind me from realizing why Dylan stiffened every time he stood near Jim that year."
"Dylan was a teenage boy and Jim was the father of the girl he had snuck around with. You couldn't have known, Aunt Cindy."
"Rationally, I do understand that, but I feel like I let Iris down. And I hate that if it hadn't been for Brenda's accident, I may have never known what Jim did."
Valerie brought Cindy in for an embrace.
"I shouldn't be telling you these things," said Cindy. "You're too young to be hearing about the problems of a marriage."
"My father didn't think so," Valerie muttered without thinking.
"What?" asked Cindy as she pulled away.
"I said, I'm twenty-three," Val covered.
"That's not what you said, Valerie."
Val reached behind her to hold on to the edge of the counter for strength.
"My father; he, uh, he used to tell me all about his marital problems with my mom."
"I didn't know Victor and Abby had marital problems," said Cindy.
"Not in Minnesota," said Valerie. "When we moved to Buffalo, they had loads of them, and I used to hear all about it when Dad - when he -"
She shook her head and plastered on a smile.
"I'm sure your family will make it through this," said Val as she began to walk away.
"Valerie," Cindy called behind her back, "did you fall off a trampoline when you were twelve?"
Valerie turned around.
"What?" she asked.
"The summer we visited," said Cindy. "When you were twelve. You kids had been swimming for hours that day, and Brenda mentioned to me about a bruise she had noticed on your upper back. I mentioned it to Abby, who said you had fallen off a trampoline at your gymnastics camp."
Valerie felt cornered.
"I never fell off a trampoline," she said.
Cindy gestured for Valerie to join her at the table.
"Valerie, when I told you you could tell me anything, I meant it. Anything you tell me can stay between us."
"I - I can't," said Val, on the verge of breaking down and telling Cindy everything.
"Does your mother know what it is you are unwilling to share?" asked Cindy.
"Yes," said Valerie in a squeak. "She - she blames me."
Cindy came over to put her arms around Valerie.
"I will never blame you," she said.
"Even though," and here, Valerie spoke in the voice of a frightened child, "even though Daddy blamed me, too? Because I - because I was born pretty?"
"Oh, Valerie," Cindy said, as she cried with Val. "Brenda was also born pretty, and if Jim had pulled that with her, he would have been jailed the very same night."
"Daddy said - he said he took the drugs because of me," said Val. "Because I lured him to the brink. That I - that I showed too much skin. But when I - when I covered up, when I showed less, he said my face still - still drew him in." Valerie ducked her face into Cindy's jacket. "I tried, Aunt Cindy. I tried to be ugly. It didn't - it didn't work."
"Your father was a sick man, Valerie," said Cindy. "It doesn't matter how attractive someone is, how unattractive someone is, or how they dress. No one should ever go through that. If I'd had any idea, any at all, Jim and I would have gotten you far away from there."
"He's dead, Aunt Cindy. My father is long dead, and I still can't get away from there. I don't think I ever will." Valerie shuddered against Cindy. "Especially when I - when I'm the one who killed him."
Cindy gasped.
"We were told Victor committed suicide," said Cindy, drawing Valerie slightly away to get a good look at her.
"He didn't," said Val. "I killed him. I wanted him dead, and I made it happen."
"You killed Victor?" asked Cindy.
"She didn't," Val heard David say. "Abby did. And I'm getting closer to proving it."
"Leave it alone, David!" shouted Val. "If wishes could kill, I would've killed Victor a thousand times over."
"Wishes can't kill," said David. "And neither did she," he added to Cindy.
"I just - I just want it over," said Val.
Cindy, still reeling from learning about Victor's murder, looked at David.
"You think Abby killed her husband?" asked Cindy.
"I'm certain of it," said David. "Do you think she's capable?"
"She's capable of handling herself with a gun," said Cindy. "I know that much."
"I've - I've never seen my mother near a gun," said Val.
"I have," said Cindy. The color had drained from her skin.
"Excuse me?" asked David and Val, in unison.
"I told Abby - I told Abby to put it down," said Cindy.
Valerie stood as Cindy did, just before Cindy teetered into the arms of Steve.
"What's going on?" he asked through his alarm.
"Cindy," said Val in shock, "has secrets of her own."
"Involving Val's mother," said David.
"And a gun," they chorused.
"Last time I'm offering to cover the store," said Steve.
He and David helped Cindy to the guest room, for her to rest there until Brandon returned.
From where, neither man knew.
Nor did Valerie, who sat there and blamed herself for Cindy's state of mind.
Perhaps she should have listened to her gut and never said a thing.
Kept it all inside.
As her parents had taught her to do from the moment she had entered their lives.
Malones didn't show weakness, they had told her as three-year-old Valerie blubbered over a scratched knee brought on by hightailing from a neighbor's vicious rabbit.
I'm a piss-poor excuse for a Malone, thought Val, and my weakness has destroyed Cindy.
Perhaps she did indeed destroy everyone she loved, the way her wretched father had.
Perhaps Valerie couldn't be saved from the demons that consumed her, for anyone who tried to save her evidently became consumed themselves.
And she was tired of having to constantly save herself.
-x
Sources: Google, the websites for Astrid Wild and BabyCenter.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation. I had literally finished this chapter right before I saw your review from the previous one. Talk about timing!)
Thanks a million! x