Sinister

Chapter Thirteen

It took Leighton three days to sort through the memories. She laid, curled up under her covers, clenching her teeth as images and sounds and faces passed before her mind's eye. A dull throb had developed at the base of her skull and it showed no signs of easing up. Whenever a memory was particularly foggy, a sharp pain would stab at her temples until she could make sense of it.

Leighton's eyes were bloodshot and burning, they had been open and staring for too long but she didn't want to rest them. During the day, she could fight back the memories but when she slept her mind had free reign to show her whatever nightmares it chose.

Trevor had called twice looking for her, each time she let his call go to voicemail. Leighton couldn't imagine going back to work, not when every sound crushed her eardrums and any light that touched her retinas burned. She wasn't sure if she was going to lose her job and she wasn't sure if she cared.

Leighton pressed her knees tighter into her chest, fingers curling around the edge of her sheets while she burrowed her head further underneath her pillow. She felt his touch on her legs, his fingers dragging up the length of her thigh and testing her hips. His voice was like smog, it filled her ears and poisoned her lungs until she was choking.

"Don't you love me, Leighton?"

Leighton jerked violently, eyes flying open. She wouldn't rest. She wouldn't let her mind wander. A shiver passed over her body despite the stifling heat underneath her blankets. Sweat collected at the back of her neck but she didn't dare try to break free from her prison, not until the sun set and the house was absolutely quiet.

Tate's betrayal had come at a good time. Karen had been so enraptured with Tom's health that she hadn't even thought to call her daughter never mind physically check on her well being. Leighton was thankful for this breathing room. She could let her mother see what had happened to her, not when she had come so far, not when Tom needed her.

Leighton's stomach clenched and she let out a soft moan. Avoiding light meant that she could only eat through the night and when she tried to eat she found herself without an appetite. The last thing she had eaten―two saltine crackers and a Twizzler―she had thrown up. Because he liked Twizzlers. It had been Braden's favourite candy and as soon as she swallowed it, it began to rise back up.

Leighton's head roared at the thought of him. She groaned and wove her fingers into her hair, pulling slightly in an attempt to relieve the pressure building there. The thought of him was intrusive, like a bacteria that ate away at an entire organ before moving onto the next. She couldn't stop the thought of him, once he was in the forefront of her mind, there was no getting rid of him.

Braden Perry had been the type of person who was never content with their situation. He complained about everything, his parents, his job, his car. He was never satisfied. Everything needed to be better and Leighton remembered all the plans they made. Thinking back made her sick.

"We'll live together in a secluded neighbourhood," Braden said, squeezing her hand. They were stretched out on the couch in his parent's basement. Leighton hated the dank space but it was the only place in the house they were allowed to be alone.

Leighton smiled back at him, wriggling around to relieve the itch on her back. There was a woollen blanket draped over the back of the couch that was starting to irritate her bare shoulders. Braden was annoyed.

He reached out and pinched the exposed skin of her stomach where her shirt had risen. "Are you even listening, Leighton?" Braden asked, dark eyes trained on her face. Leighton shrunk under his gaze.

"Yes," she said, pulling at her shirt."Only us and a few neighbours."

"A few choice neighbours," Braden repeated, "No more stupid old people. I'm getting so sick of the Watersons, all they do is garden. All day long. Don't they have anything better to do?"

Leighton knew better than to disagree when Braden slipped into these moods. "I guess not." Leighton kept one eye on the clock across the room, her dad was coming for her in twenty minutes.

"We'll be married, you'll be Mrs. Perry. Or maybe we'll choose our own last name, I'd hate to be confused with my dad." Braden gave this some thought and then moved past it. "I don't want you to wear anything crazy to our wedding, just a simple, traditional gown, you know."

Leighton laughed. "It's a little early to be picking wedding gown styles, isn't it?"

Braden stilled beside her. "You don't want to marry me?"

Leighton sat up straight, heart jamming into her throat. She hated when Braden did this, played with her words, turned them against her. "That's not what I said," she protested.

His eyes changed. That was always the first sign. Usually, his eyes were like molten chocolate, always warm and moving. But sometimes, they cooled and stilled, his gaze becoming shark like.

"What are we even doing together then Leighton?" Braden rested his hand on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh hard enough for her to jostle her leg in an attempt to dislodge his hold. "If we're not going to get married than we shouldn't date."

One of his fingernails had drawn blood from her skin. Leighton gasped, jumping up and wincing. "Braden―stop. You're hurting me."

Braden's smile twisted into something that made every nerve in Leighton's body rebel. "You hurt me," he told her, every word heavily calculated. He knew how much damage each word was going to inflict before he spoke them.

"I'm sorry," Leighton gasped. There was a war going on inside of her. One that loved Braden, remember when he had brought her ice cream, cherished the memories from when they had started dating, he had been sweet and ideal. But another, smaller side of her was beginning to revolt, beginning to scream at her every time she apologized.

But wasn't his behaviour her fault? Hadn't she provoked him? Hadn't she said the wrong thing? Looked at him the wrong way. Leaned away when he came closer. Said no when he wanted her to say yes.

"You can make it up to me," Braden cooed, fingers lifting from her thigh to cup her cheek. Without any warning he pinched her skin and drew her closer, smothering her lips with his own and biting down on her lower lip maliciously.

Leighton made a sound of protest as Braden's hand left her face, and grabbed her more intimately. It wasn't pleasant. It didn't feel the way it looked in movies. Leighton jerked her body backwards, ripping herself from his hold and smiling before he could blow up.

"Sorry," she said, "my dad will be here any second."

Braden's anger was hard for him to swallow. He took a long moment before he reached out and tugged on a strand of her long hair. "I wish you would dye it, I've only ever dated brunettes in the past."

Leighton's smile was held up by fear. "My mom wouldn't let me."

"Parents," Braden scoffed, "one day it will be just me and you."

Leighton screamed. The shrill sound combined with the desperate protest of her throat muscles was the only thing that could jolt her out of the memory. Leighton jammed her fist into her mouth as she tried to shake the lasting hold the memory had on her, the imprint of his face on her eyelids, the sound of her own fear ringing in her ears.

Leighton's eyes opened and she was startled to see that the glow underneath the blanket was no longer a burning orange, it was a pale blue. Slowly, Leighton peeled back the layers of blankets and sat up. Her head complained, throbbing as she straightened.

Tires rolled onto the driveway as Karen arrived at the house. Leighton strained to hear as Karen locked the car and began walking towards the front door. Heart jammed somewhere in her throat, Leighton laid back down and became still.

It was a good ten minutes of small noises before Karen's footsteps echoed in the stairway. Leighton had listened to her hang up her keys, boil the kettle, slip off her shoes, unravel the newspaper. The sound of Karen's wanderings around the house brought tears to Leighton's eyes. She hadn't realised how much she had missed her mother over the past few days.

The knock on Leighton's door jarred her brain so intensely, she felt pain radiating through her jaw and spine. "Leigh?" Karen called, pushing the door open slightly. Karen made a small noise as she noticed the state Leighton had left her room in.

Underneath the covers, all Leighton could see was the outline of her mother's hand before she reached for the blankets, and stripped them from her body. Leighton laid perfectly still refusing to breathe as her mother's gaze swept over her body, drawing Goosebumps to the surface of her skin.

"Leigh?" Karen reached forward and swooped her daughter's bangs off of her forehead. The movement was tiny, insignificant, but it was enough. Leighton was drowning.

Braden reached out and dragged a lazy finger across her forehead, pushing her bangs off of her face and tucking them behind her ear. Leighton stared up at the ceiling as waves of pain rolled through her body. It felt like every muscle, every bone, had been displaced.

"I love you so much, Leighton," Braden said with a soft sigh. "So much it hurts."

She swallowed, her throat staying tensed as his finger followed the line of her collarbones. For the first time, Braden seemed completely happy. Only acts of violence ever made him this blissful.

"I'm so glad we shared that, together, don't you think?"

Leighton wanted to cry but if she did, Braden would lose his mind. Instead she nodded, turning her face away from his as she sniffled. Pain was all she felt. Pain and hot betrayal. It wasn't his betrayal that stung her, it was her own. How could she have let her body be so defiled? How could she have let herself be so degraded?

Braden's fingers closed around her wrist. He drew her hand towards him, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist and nipping the skin there. Leighton's stomach heaved and it took a few deep breaths to calm it.

"You're so quiet," Braden commented, "are you tired?"

Leighton forced herself to speak. "Yes." Her voice was nothing but a croak. Unshed tears seemed to be lodged in her throat. He didn't notice.

Instead, Braden snuggled into her shoulder, nose skimming her skin while his hair flopped over his face, hiding his cold eyes. His warm breath fanned over her bare skin, sparking controversial feelings in her chest.

She had made him happy. But at what price?

"I feel so much closer to you now," Braden mumbled against the curve of her shoulder. His hold on her waist tightened. "I can't ever imagine letting you go."

Something cold gripped her heart. Leighton tried to pull away from him but pain spiked and she was forced into stillness. Braden lifted up his head, eyes sleepy but still suspicious.

"Is something wrong?" Braden pressed.

Leighton shook her head. She was going out with a star athlete, beloved student council member, unofficial popularity king. How could anything be wrong? She was with the guy almost every girl wanted. He had chosen her. How could that be wrong?

It was wrong.

Leighton retreated into herself, closing her eyes as her whole body revolted. What had she done? What had he done? Why had it gone so far? Why hadn't he listened? Why hadn't she been louder?

"Leave," Braden hissed, nudging her.

Leighton's eyes flew open, she was startled. "What?"

"Leave," Braden repeated, "I don't want you to stay here if you're going to make me miserable." Leighton looked into his eyes for a long while, trying to decipher what he meant. Apparently he meant what he said. "Do I have to fucking repeat myself like a broken record?"

Leighton flinched when he nudged her again. Slowly, she lifted herself onto her elbows and then to her hands. She had to move slowly because pain was rippling outwards from her very core.

"Fuck, you move slow," Braden groaned, rolling over and stuffing his face into his pillow.

Leighton swallowed tears. "I don't have a ride."

"Walk," Braden answered.

"Brad―"

"Will you quit whining?" Braden shouted, turning to her. "You could have stayed here but you were no fun so now you have to leave, okay? So get your fucking clothes on and get out of my house."

Leighton's whole body shook as she grabbed her underwear and pulled it on, eyes watering when she noticed Braden had snapped one of the straps on her bra. It had been her favourite one.

Braden's face was contorted with anger when he spoke next. "I'm serious, Leighton, get the hell out of here. I'm in a bad mood now and I don't want to see your face."

"I'm getting dressed," Leighton mumbled, reaching for her jeans.

"Go," Braden shouted. When she didn't move he yelled louder. "GO!"

Leighton jumped and grabbed her things, cradling them to her chest as she scampered up the stairs, bashing her shin on one of the steps as she fled the basement. The tears came as soon as she was out of the house. Braden's parents weren't home but that didn't make any of that less embarrassing.

Leighton ran to the side of Braden's house, ducking behind the gate door as she pulled on her clothes. She'd rather run the risk of being seen by Braden's elderly neighbours than be caught loitering in his house.

Leighton hiccupped as the sobs started to strangle her. Pulling on her jeans was painful, every movement took effort and each stab of pain fell and triggered another, like dominoes.

Leighton limped home, arms crossed over her chest to support her broken bra. The worst part of that day was going home and lying to her parents. Lying to her lighthearted dad. To her worried mother.

Yes, she was fine.

She had a great time with Braden.

They made plans to see a movie next week.

Leighton played it off well, her smile was flawless, her cheeks were round. But when she made it upstairs she collapsed on the floor beside her bed. She didn't deserve the comfort. Not after that. She wouldn't forgive herself. She couldn't.

"Leighton!" Karen's voice was sharpened by hysterics, drilling into Leighton's mind like a thousand sewing needles, gouging their way to the centre of her mind and staying lodged there.

Leighton's eyes peeled open and she recoiled away from her mother's form, retreating to the other side of the mattress and bringing her knees to her chest before resting her forehead on them. She needed the pain to stop.

"Leighton?" Karen's voice shook and Leighton's stomach started to erode from the guilt. Hadn't she promised herself to pretend for her mother? Hadn't she already made it clear that one ailing family member was enough? Tom needed Karen, Leighton would live.

"I'm fine," Leighton spat, voice savage. She tried to reign in her emotions but the feelings that memory had dredged to the surface lingered.

Karen fingers shook as she sat on the corner of Leighton's bed. "You're not fine."

Leighton felt the threads of control slowly start to unravel. Her breath came in shorter gasps, her eyes stung, her tongue was dry. She was fine, wasn't she? They were just memories. Nothings of the past. So why did she feel like they were monsters, rearing their ugly heads and sinking their fangs into her mind?

"Tom needs you," Leighton said, "you need to focus on him."

Karen's eyes filled with tears, making her eyes resemble the ocean even more. Karen moved closer, hands reaching for her daughter. Tentatively, Leighton leaned into her touch. Karen sighed and trailed her hand down Leighton's hair.

"Tom's okay. He just needs to cut back on the cheeseburgers and fries. You, Leighton, you are my baby. You are the only one I need to worry about, do you understand? Never feel guilty for my attention, it's yours, it's always been yours."

Leighton couldn't stop herself from crying. "I'm not strong anymore, mom." How much had she accomplished in the last month? How far had she moved on? How much had she handled? And now, she was a mess, confined to her bed and lifeless.

Karen couldn't keep the tears out of her voice. "Why do you say that, Leigh?"

"I can't handle it," Leighton agonized. "All the memories of what happened. Everything he did to me. Everything I let him do to me. Oh God, what I did to myself."

Karen's arms were like steel around her daughter, supporting her in the relentless way mothers were supposed to. Karen had always been there for her. When her dad bailed, crippled by the shame and stress of having a ruined daughter, Karen had embraced her, kissed her head, wiped her cheeks.

"You never deserved anything that happened to you, Leigh, nothing. What was done to you was evil, manipulative, and not your fault. Do you understand?" Leighton closed her eyes and leaned into her mother's shoulder.

His eyes flashed behind hers. Don't you love me, Leighton?

And she had, she had loved him so much. Enough to turn a blind eye to everything wicked he did, enough to keep on forgiving every time he hurt her, enough to shoulder the blame for his misbehaviour.

"I need to be alone," Leighton whispered, fingers clutching onto her mother's hospital scrubs. She smelt so strongly of hand sanitizer and latex. Over the years the smell became comforting.

Karen pressed her lips to Leighton's forehead, a gesture that brought up no bad memories. Braden had never been gentle enough for such an action. After a moment, Karen pushed herself up and left the room.

Leighton laid in darkness, awake for the rest of the night. Karen brought her breakfast in the morning but she couldn't handle anymore than a few scoops of scrambled eggs. Karen watched her every move anxiously and called in sick to work.

Never in her life had Leighton tried so hard to shake the feeling of despair. Despite her mother's words from the night before she couldn't be responsible for dragging her mother out of the bliss recent months had created for her. For a time, Karen had been loved by a strong man, her daughter had stumbled out of her crazy stage, her job had been smooth. But now Leighton was a ripple in that stillness.

"Is that all you can eat?" Karen asked lightly. Leighton nodded and laid back down, rolling away from her mother and tucking her knees to her chest. When she heard the rattle of pills, she closed her eyes.

"I don't want them," Leighton mumbled.

Karen shook a couple onto her palm and held them out to her daughter. "Please." Leighton turned, meeting her mother's eyes and wavering under the intensity of her desperation. She swallowed the pills without water.

Leighton felt the two aspirin worm their way down her throat, catching slightly. She coughed and rubbed the column of her neck, wishing she had water to chase them with. Before she could cap the lid on the bottle, someone knocked into her shoulder, scattering the pills along the hallway.

"What an addict," some kid chortled. Leighton rolled her eyes, didn't they know these pills were over the counter?

Leighton bent down to pick them up, fingers shaking as she pinched the blue pills between them. She felt a foot on her back and cried out as she was pressed into the ground.

"What do you think you were doing telling lies about Braden? Because you slutted around we don't have anyone to play left wing."

Leighton rolled out of the way, standing before anyone could approach her. "It's none of your business."

The boy lifted his lips, pushing them closer to his flat nose. "Yes it is. Braden's my best friend, he shouldn't be punished because he dated a skank." The boy watched her face with malice and Leighton started to understand why they were friends.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled, not wanting to start anything major. They had already drew a good number of eyes in the hallway. Among the onlookers Leighton spotted Bethany. The girl made no attempt to come to her aid.

The boy crushed the aspirin under his sneaker. "Whatever Braden did or didn't do, I hope you're ruined." His shoulder jostled hers once more as he made his exit. Leighton turned and fled, making her escape.

"―talking on the phone and we both think it would be a good idea if you took some time away from St. Hope and spent some time with your father."

Leighton shook her head slightly, reality beginning to filter through the flashback. "What? Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

Karen sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "I think I'm hurting you more than I'm helping you, Leigh, and I want you to get better. But maybe this time you need a change of scenery, maybe you need to go somewhere you won't be reminded constantly about what happened."

"You want to send me to Dad?" Leighton asked. She wasn't sure if she had spoken the words, the idea was too surreal. Leighton hadn't spoken to her father since he packed up to date a woman he met online. He was in Wyoming and she was here. He never tried to bridge that distance and neither had she.

Karen looked guilty. "Yes, I mean, no. I don't want to ship you out there, Leigh, I'm not trying to get rid of you, I just thought it would be a good idea."

"Well it isn't," Leighton said, jumping up and heading towards her closet.

"Leigh," Karen sighed.

Leighton flicked through her clothes, memories sprouting. She remembered now why she didn't own any form fitting clothes. Braden only wanted her to wear items that hugged her skin. He wanted to know people admired her figure, it made him want her more.

Leighton shuddered as she grabbed a clean t-shirt. "There's no point for me to see dad, he's nothing to me anymore and besides, he has his own family now."

"You're still his family," Karen contended, "he still loves you."

Leighton's eyes burned. "He was ashamed of me."

"Leigh―"

Leighton held up a hand before pressing her fingers to her forehead. She had to be smart about it. "Sorry, no. I just―I don't want to leave you. You're my support. Things are tough right now but they're going to get better." For good measure, Leighton lifted the edges of her mouth in what she hoped was a good imitation of a smile.

Karen tilted her head to the side, her frowning exaggerating the lines on her face. "I wish I was one of those clueless mothers who could believe every word that came from your mouth." Leighton let the charade fall. "Because I do want to believe you. I do. But I know you'll tell me anything to let you stay."

"Don't make me go," Leighton blurted.

Karen grimaced. "I'll tell your father you're busy with work."

Leighton breathed out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Karen got up, grabbing Leighton's untouched meal and pausing to plant her hand on the top of Leighton's head. "We are going to see Dr. Rook." Leighton held her mother's gaze, feeling her resolve harden.

Karen was a builder, she made the best out of every situation, she was constantly reinforcing all the walls that kept her daughter together. Braden was different. He could only destroy. But this time Leighton wouldn't let herself be torn down.

"Let's see, kid, you want to press sexual assault and abuse charges against Braden Perry?" Officer McGuinty was the only person in the police station that hadn't tried to burn her ears with their gossip or rest a pitying gaze on her skin.

Leighton nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. Leighton had spent weeks toying with the idea. It hadn't become a possibility until Braden had refused to let her break off their relationship. The first time he struck her, she told her mother. There was no excusing that sort of violence, it wasn't birthed from a place of love.

Officer McGuinty grumbled something to himself and rubbed his shaved head as he read over her file. "You want a restraining order too?" The officer behind McGuinty made an off sound and rolled his eyes before spitting into a garbage can.

His gaze burned her in her chair. "Yes."

The officer behind McGuinty was scrawny with reddish blonde hair and a sneer. "Are you sure you two didn't just have some fun you now regret? Because that isn't assault, missy, it's poor judgement."

Leighton's entire face flushed, the blush chasing down her neck and arms. McGuinty's face twisted as he turned to glare at the officer. "The only poor judgement in this office is what you just said, Mason, you need to get the hell out. We help people here, we don't judge 'em."

Mason's mouth was gaping. "I was just―"

"Out," McGuinty barked, looking pointedly at the door. Mason left with a cuss word.

Leighton looked at the officer, finding a soft gaze under the rough exterior. He offered her a tiny smile. "I've got a daughter."

"You have decency," she replied.

McGuinty just smiled.

"Perhaps we should try changing your prescription?" Leighton blinked as her eyes readjusted on Dr. Rook. The woman was smiling, brown skin clear of any blemishes despite her age.

"No," Leighton protested, "I don't want to change anything."

Dr. Rook frowned, eyes scanning her clipboard. "Your lapses in memory are a cause for worry, Leighton. We moved past this particular stage over a year ago. How long have you been stuck back in that time in your life?"

Leighton couldn't tell her the truth. At least now she knew that Dr. Rook could be trusted. She remembered the hours she had spent in the office now, eyes scanning the walls, memorizing the pictures and their positions. Leighton remembered telling the woman everything as her fingers worried over a loose string on the armrest of her chair.

"I don't want to blot out the memories anymore," Leighton told Dr. Rook, "I don't want to wash them away with medication and breathing exercises. I want to embrace them and then I want to move past them, completely."

Dr. Rook was patient. "I think you're underestimating your illness."

Leighton shook her head, "The only thing that's making me ill is not being able to accept what happened to me. For the past two years I've lived in those moments, I breathed them in so many time they're stuck in my lungs. I need fresh air but I can't do that until I cough up what's stuck in my throat." Leighton had no interest in becoming a zombie again and that was what the concoction of pills turned her into.

Dr. Rook leaned back in her chair, taking off her reading glasses and folding them neatly in her hands. "What would you like me to do to help?"

Leighton took a deep breath. "When you first met me, what was I like?"

If Dr. Rook was surprised by the question, she didn't let Leighton know. "You were very distressed, always jumping, very skittish. Your mind constantly wandered, you held your body in a defensive manner, you were combative. At times, protective of your trauma."

"And now?" Leighton asked, pushing down emotion. "What am I now?"

Dr. Rook tilted her chin upwards, her eyes assessing her patient. "Resilient. You've had setbacks, traumas, injuries, but you always turned the next corner. Always fought to get better."

Leighton's eyes slid closed as a sense of déjà vu crept over her. She had heard that before, hadn't she? When she had spoken to Tate so long ago. When he told her why he singled her out. Because you fight for life, Tate had said, It's what drew me to you.

"I worry though, Leighton. I worry that the progress you've made is a result of wishing to be normal and not the product of actual improvement. When I first met you, you had strong symptoms of delusion. I wonder now if you are just as self-deluded as you were then."

Leighton couldn't say anything in reply because Dr. Rook was right. Her recent progress hadn't been made by her own will, it only happened because she no longer held her memories.

"This isn't the type of battle you fight solo, Leighton," Dr. Rook reminded her. "If you truly want to get better you need to find adequate support, someone who understands completely. Someone who can help you deal with the trauma, if that is what you wish to do."

Leighton nodded, minds pulling pieces together slowly. The only person who understood was Tate. He had seen all of her memories first hand, felt what she felt. But he was the person who had condemned her to relive everything.

"How do I beat it?"

Dr. Rook leaned forward, eyes large and believing. "Take control."