☆☆☆ Chapter 41 ☆☆☆

Talk

I didn't know where to put my hands, and they were getting awfully clammy. Sweat was inevitable, all over. Never in a million years would I have ever thought that a talk with Teresa would make me feel this way. Maybe it was 'cuz of the why rather than the act itself. Maybe, just maybe.

After a second or two, the knob turned. I met her gaze, and quickly looked away. I wanted to leave.

"Ane," she said, almost to herself. It felt like a whisper, but had an immeasurable form of power hidden beneath it. It was strange. "You're── you're here. You're actually here." Her hands hurried over to my cheeks. Using them, she lifted my head, bringing them closer to her face. She looked into my eyes as one would to a lying child, and saw the truth in them. "Ane," she said once more to herself, before squeezing me tight with a hug. "It's good to see you again, however faint it may be."

"Good to see me out of a state of limbo?" I choked out. She pursed her lips and nodded at that.

"It was so sudden. One moment you were at the hotel, and the next, you weren't. When I saw you again, you were so out of it. But... but who wouldn't be, after someone points a gun to your face like that? Who knows what would've happened if Roger wasn't around to call for help. I just... I just wished you had talked to Dr. Connor at least."

Huh, so that's what Roger and Daniel told Teresa. Glad that it's at the very least a half-truth.

"It's not like it's an instinct of mine to talk to others like that. It's a given that I wouldn't even open up to a therapist," I mumbled. "You should know that, out of all people; I never spoke a word 'bout him... and neither did you. Nobody knew. Until now, that is."

Her eyes widened; almost popped out of their sockets, before briefly looking behind to ask her roommate for some privacy. As the roommate respectfully walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, Teresa sat me on her bed, filling her chest with air.

"Ane," she began, biting the insides of her cheeks. "What do you mean by that?"

"I... I told Daniel earlier."

"Everything?"

"Everything," I said, nodding. A sigh came out of her, but that was it. Silence pitched in, the type that could have easily taken over the rest of my stay, but I didn't want that. It would only make me more nervous. "Teresa, why haven't you gone to a therapist, if you're so willing to take your own drug for someone to help you? Why didn't you tell Mom and Dad?"

"I don't know," my sister eventually replied, swallowing hard. "Opening up is hard, even if someone wants to, Ane, which is why I'm genuinely surprised. You opened up. I thought I would be the first to do that."

"Me... me too."

"How do you feel? Are you alright? How does Daniel feel?" I shrugged in response, pinching my legs a bit. My heart felt heavy. I'm sure Teresa's felt the same. Daniel's, too. "Ane, do you plan on telling Mom and Dad?"

To this day, they have no idea. No idea 'bout our whereabouts for the eight days of hell that summer allowed to exist. No idea 'bout him. No idea 'bout anything. Those eight days of our absence, Mom and Dad called the police and reported us missing. They cried and cried. They were so, so very scared. We came back, spoke to no one but ourselves, Teresa and I. No one, not a single soul 'bout what had happened. No idea 'bout anything, our parents had. They were "clueless," but wary. So, so very wary, scared. They still are.

They will never understand why Teresa dropped med school. They will never understand why I lost all hope for my future. They just think we could brush what had happened aside, and move on with our lives, in the blink of an eye. Telling 'em won't make a difference, right?

They will never understand. They will blame me.

"I... I don't know, maybe," I forced myself to say as my nails dug deep into my thighs. Teresa winced at that, and it made me fix my throat, to think a little more on what I said. "I was thinkin' if, y'know, we could do it together."

"Jesus, Ane. Since when have you considered me into things?" My feet stared up at me, from the floor. So did my flats, and the fingernails now lined with faint, fresh blood. I shrugged again, but this time, I felt my shoulders try to resist. I was hunching over too much. "Will... will we have to go to the police now?"

"Ane, I swear to you, I'm going to find that bastard, dead or alive. You won't ever fear for your life after that, ever again. Anything for you, Ane."

"Daniel's taking care of the police' side of things."

"How?"

" ... Anything for you, Ane."

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Roger? The actual police? ... Joel? Hilery? Jade? He had plenty of options. Sick, but true.

Teresa threw herself on the bed, and rested her hands on her stomach. I heard her heavy breathing, felt the heaviness of her heart and soul. My breathing, my heart, my soul, mirrored hers. And more. I felt the urge to tear out my heart and let it bleed out with my tears again, but shoved those feelings down, deep. One day, I hope they cease to exist. I didn't want to do that; cry for myself in such a self-destructive state. Never again. I didn't want anything to hold me back from any possibility of happiness. I wanted to be fine. We wanted to be fine, Teresa and I. Not just me, yes.

There was this heavy, suffocating stench in the air, painful and as dark as tar, coming in from the corners of every single wall surrounding us, that completely ignored those feelings. Its taste left me bitter and nauseated, but I knew what it was; it was me. Me, myself, and I. From the looks of it, Teresa was going through the same thing. She was facing herself. She, herself, and her. Her eyes were driven to the brink of madness. Her lips quivered. Her entire body shivered from a cold of the mind. We were one and the same.

We held onto each other, whispering to ourselves that everything was gonna be alright, that we now had each other, that we were on common ground.

That all we had to do was talk.

☆☆☆

It's crazy how living in a palace for months shy of a year has changed the way I look at the home Teresa and I had wasted away in as shut-ins. We have come over many times to visit and sleep over, but today the house in front of us had a different feel to it, maybe 'cuz... maybe because there's a reason today for coming over; a nerve-wracking one. Where I once believed lived nothing but sad, pushy parents and a god-awful whore of a sister that always annoyed the crap out of me with her bitching and moaning, I now saw nothing but a small, cozy old home with memories filled with the gentle warmth that had ceased to exist when I met him. That man truly tore me apart, from the inside out. Nothing felt the same after him. Until now, of course, because there's hope now.

All I had to do was talk.

The concrete walls were painted with a sandy, peachy color that was starting to fade in a couple of corners here and there. The roof, still very much alive and kicking, was slightly caved in. The smell of freshly cut grass and damp earth creeped up my nose, and only got stronger as I followed the stone path that led to the front door. There were a couple of open windows that welcomed the hot, humid wind from outside, and with every step that Teresa and I took, the louder the whirring of a fan was heard, as well as the heated yapping of a sportscaster detailing a live baseball game from a radio station.

Mom and Dad were definitely there. No other family or guests, just them. It's a normal Saturday for them.

When we got to the door, Teresa quickly stuffed her key into the keyhole, turned it, and rushed herself inside, so as not to give us the time to freak out over what we were gonna drop on our parents.

"Mom! Daddo! It's Ane and I," Teresa pushed herself to say, looking straight ahead to the kitchen. The sportscaster, right then and there, howled a 'home run' for Dad's favorite team, and Dad howled along. Mom followed right behind with the howling. Miles away from the real game, they clapped and cheered as if they were on its first-row seats. "We're here, as promised."

"C'mon, c'mon ova already, an' give ya old man a hug!" Dad exclaimed, his voice oh-so-very merry and taking over the room. It hid his many years' worth of worry over us for today. It's a Saturday. Baseball's on the radio and in his head. His favorite team's playing, too. "Missed y'all! What's goin' on, ghostin' on us like dat for a month? I swear it's dat white boy, dat rich-boy be takin' our girls, Akos!"

"Bruno stop mockin' me or imma give ya somethin' to cry 'bout, ain't nobody gon' talk 'round me like dat 'less theys tryna fight," Mom warned, her playful tone mingling with her angry one. I could see the curving of her lips, the merry shaking of her head, the jabbing of Dad's chest with two fingers, and the slow rolling of her eyes, without having to be there face-to-face. She always does that on Saturdays. Baseball's on the radio and in her head. Not her favorite team this time, but baseball is baseball. "Food been ready, come an' get it," Mom added. "We been waitin' for ages. Y'all said three o'clock. It's five── five! Y'all gonna have to warm it up now── "

"Akos, sweetheart, I don't mean to mock you. I just can't help it, it's adorable. You should know, we've been through this for years. I mean no harm. The girls grew up knowing this too, right girls? C'mon, it's fun, it's interesting! Go and blame the ghetto streets of where you grew up or something if you're really angry, baby. Where was it── Brooklyn? Philly? Compton? Haha, sorry, sorry, I'm messing with you now. I know it's Greenville, up there in the New of Yorks, how would I not? I love you baby~! Oh, hey, hey girls, what's the matter? Come on over already and give me a hug── oh! Oh! Did you hear that? Collin stole third base, shit!"

"A'ight, dat's good. Let 'em win, your team sucks now. It ain't never comin' back from Dwight's injury an' y'know it. Miami Beavers ain't makin' it to the World Series this year. The south ain't the shit no more without 'im."

"Your beloved New York Brankees ain't makin' it either, sweetheart."

"Stop playin' Bruno. Y'betta stop it or imma slap you, jus' watch me, 'sweetheart'... oh! Oh shit! Collin's out!"

"A-HA! Let's go Beavers, let's go!"

Teresa and I turned to each other with the most nervous of faces, knowing fully well of what we had to do; of what we had agreed to do, but scared nevertheless. We had no clue on how they were going to take it. Who knows if they would even understand why we kept quiet, why we never sought for help.

"Teresa! Imani!" Mom exclaimed. "What's takin' so long? Close the door already an' get ya bum-asses ova here."

Teresa and I nodded to each other with the most nervous of faces, scared shitless. It's a Saturday. Baseball's on the radio and in their heads. It's the one merry day of the week for them. We breathed in deep, and clenched our fists briefly. We were ready, but so not ready.

I shut the door behind us, and swallowed. I swallowed hard. Real hard.

All we had to do was talk, and tear apart their merry Saturday.