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  “What? Meet me? Why would you want to do that?” I cleared my dry throat.

  “For two reasons.” His mouth pulled into a sultry half-grin. “One, to see if you’re everything Tory described you to be over the years – funny, sheltered, wise beyond your years, caring and innocently modest in certain ways.”

  “And all of those things are…good?"

  “In my book, yes.”

  “And number two?” I wondered, arching an eyebrow.

  “If you looked as amazing as you do in your photographs. And believe me, although you appear stunning in them you look even more beautiful in person. Those pictures don’t do you justice,” Jensen paused. “Especially,” he continued, “your graduation photo. Your eyes didn’t appear nearly as striking and bright as they do now.”

  The left side of my mouth pulled up, half-smiling at his comment. I suppose for someone who hadn’t known me before now would sense my eyes were bright. But as I’ve witnessed for months they’ve gradually grown empty, lifeless. I stared down at my bare feet when I realized I was still in my pajamas.

  “No need to change if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Ah, you’re funny,” I said sarcastically, keeping my guard up; the one I’d been flawlessly protected by since before I could remember.

  “So,” he sighed, “are you doing anything today?”

  My schedule was relatively predictable – tan in front of the house by myself, go for a walk along the beach alone, read in the quiet – no romance – with a cup of steaming herbal tea and a biscotti, watch a movie in the dark – again, no romance – with a plate of salmon salad or talk to Tory for a bit before heading off to take a quick shower, then bed, to do the same thing tomorrow . . . in solitude. I suppose I enjoyed not having to expect a bizarre occurrence, something that could throw off the equilibrium of my daily routine. I’d gotten used to my predictable way of life.

  “I’m pretty busy,” I lied.

  I barely ever got out of the house for long periods of time except for when Tory was throwing a party. I couldn’t tolerate the noise, the random smells and all the annoying drunk people. It only reminded me of the one night I couldn’t abide remembering. But under no circumstances could I let my guard down and go anywhere with Jensen. He was a maniac-zombie craving for a taste of my brain, a Frankenstein-wanna-be with an electric chair in his basement. He was everything bad all wrapped up in one gorgeous package – the beautiful wrapping paper covering the hideous gift inside.

  “That’s too bad. I would have enjoyed taking you out tonight.”

  “Uh, sorry,” I mumbled, “I don’t date.” My heart was uncontrollably loud, the beats picking up speed.

  He smirked like he’d heard my heart's rapid pounding, too. “At all?” He seemed surprised. I nodded quickly. “Or do you not date guys you just met a minute ago?” he asked in a teasing tone, taking a step toward me. As he did so I stepped backward, an uncomfortable knot slowly forming in my stomach.

  “Hey,” Jensen said calmly, “no need to get nervous. I’m not going to hurt you.” He had a look of concern in his eyes – on his striking face – almost making me wish I hadn’t backed away. Had I looked that anxious for him to notice? “I promise.”

  Another man who promises things. Gross.

  “But promises can be broken,” I stated, thinking back to when he said he would never hurt me . . . and he did. In the cruelest way imaginable.

  “I don’t make a promise I can’t keep.” He seemed stiff.

  Ignoring his rebuttal I sauntered on with, “Promises can also be seen as another venue to lie. They’re a good way of tricking people into thinking you’re being honest just to get something from them.”

  “You don’t believe I’m being sincere?” A scowl spread across his face – an awkward observation – compared to his dazzling smile and brilliant eyes.

  “I don’t know you. So I can’t be sure if you’re sincere or not. Well…not yet.”

  A smirk appeared on his thin lips. “So you’re like one of them now, are you?”

  “One of them?” I didn’t understand what he was getting at. He smirked wordlessly. “Who’s them?” Anger was building inside me – almost as if a time bomb was ticking – and at any given moment I would explode. This was relatively surprising. I usually didn't get angry. Jensen was slowly breaking through the ice sculpture I had plastered myself in; and it was cracking with every word he spoke to get to the real me underneath . . . and rather quickly, too.

  “Them,” he answered, “meaning the girls who think they’re better than everyone else. The ones who think they know everything about everything.”

  “You think highly of me? Well thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said rolling my eyes and pushing past him to get to the bathroom down the hall.

  This was technically Tory’s summer home. Her parents, the Walt’s, were incredibly wealthy and had given the house to her as a graduation present a few summers ago along with a huge blowout graduation party. Her parents owned the house and the three acres surrounding it. When she received the house she told me we could share it. So now we do. Half of the twelve bedroom, four bathroom, two kitchen, four-car garage domain, was mine. We come here any time we’re able to get away for weeks on end.

  At first my mother was reluctant to have me live in the beach house once more after I came back last summer different. But when I brought up the idea to her just last month she practically packed my suitcase for me and pushed me out the door. It was as if everything that had happened last summer disintegrated. I didn’t mean to but I pretty much made my mom’s life a living nightmare. I was her sick child – the talk of the incredibly large and multiplying city. I knew I embarrassed her. And I would always feel horrible because of that.

  As an almost-senior I've been attending classes at Brooklyn College living at home with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, which was the city Tory and I lived since birth. My mother wanted me to go to a campus close by because we couldn’t afford anything better. But when the idea arose that I should come back to the big blue beach house I neglected one simple, disastrous detail – this place was his.

  He haunted this house, these walls with his invisible presence. And he wasn’t even a prisoner in a facility. Or dead. Not that I knew of anyway. So I was always living in this constant state of fear, wondering if and when he’d return for me.

  I walked down the narrow hallway to come across my bathroom – full-size with a black and white theme. One of the best views in the house was from this bathroom. There was an oversized counter top on one end, a toilet on the other and a stand-up shower in between. Outside the big French doors across from the granite countertop was a comfy red leather chair on the balcony overlooking the beach. In the past I would go out there and read, feeling the cool summer breeze touch my skin. But today it was windy outside I saw as I watched the trees blow outside the closed window. The weather seemed odd for the end of May.

  “I don’t get what your deal is. One minute you’re barely looking at me and the next you’re glaring at me like I’m on your hit-list.” Although he was insulted by the fact that I had turned him down I could tell he loved this. The amusement in his eyes was undeniably there.

  “Totally,” I muttered. His forced words hadn’t offended me at all.

  “What’s so funny? Care to share with the class?”

  “You…” Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I thought of what to say. In a senseless way I wanted this flirtatious bantering to continue. “You come in here, unannounced, and expect me to fall head over heels for you or something!” I shouted, releasing some of my pent-up frustration – which, in context, was not directed towards Jensen, really, but more towards him. “Well I’m sorry,” I continued, “but I won’t be falling in love with anyone any time soon.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You don’t need to know.”

  “No one needs to know anything.”

  “Digging won’t get you anywhere with me.�
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  “Has anyone ever gotten anywhere with you?” I didn’t answer. “So someone has got –”

  “Can you please stop talking?”

  “I’ll stop once you tell me what happened to make you so bitter.”

  I was taken aback. “I…I’m not bitter.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “The only thing that makes sense is that something really horrible must have happened to you to make you act this way.”

  “Act what way? What are you getting at?”

  “I can see it in you…”

  “Do you always speak in riddles?” I sighed, combing out a knot in my long, thick hair with my brush.

  “Tory informed that something dreadful happened to you last year,” Jensen revealed. This was probably what he came here to find out – what had happened all those months ago.

  “She what?!” I was so infuriated I could have spit. I moaned in frustration, throwing the brush onto the counter. It bounced off and hit the floor across the bathroom. I was too enraged to pick it up.

  “But she didn’t mention what it was,” he told me, hands in a defensive pose. I breathed slowly, attempting to calm down a little. “She also mentioned you might feel a little awkward if I randomly showed up at your door. I can see she was right.”

  I snickered uncontrollably and went to retrieve the hairbrush. I put it back on the counter as I waited for the silence to subside.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it that changed you?” he asked breaking the silence.

  “I do mind,” I spat out. “I’m not telling you.” My blood boiled. “And change can be a good thing. Not all change is bad change.”

  “Never said it was.” He was calm. “I won’t pressure you to tell me. I’m merely curious.”

  “Curiosity is a disease,” I said smugly. “I don’t go around telling people about my problems.”

  “Are you afraid they’ll pity you?”

  “Excuse me? No. I just don’t feel like talking about it.”

  “Have you ever talked about it?”

  “What are you? My shrink? Are you expecting me to pay you once our session is over?”

  “Certainly not. Like I said, I’m curious.” He had one dimple on his right cheek when he smiled; his cheekbones prominent and outstanding in the way they displayed his heart shaped face. He was clean-shaven. “Curiosity isn’t necessarily a crime, Avalon.”

  “This isn’t some sort of game, okay? This is my life!” I shouted, body shaking and tears building. He stared at me blankly. “I don’t know who you are or what you want but the person you came here to meet obviously isn’t who you expected. I can see it on your face.” I tried getting my breathing under control.

  A surge of heat passed through me in a strong wave. Calmness? Rage? Nervousness? I couldn’t detect what the emotion was, not until I shoved past him once more, glancing away from his hauntingly beautiful face – which possibly could have been the one thing to keep me from leaving.

  “Hey!” he shouted, coming up from behind me. “What’s your deal? If you didn’t like me, all you had to do was say so.” The irony? I thought I was beginning to like him. And that was why I knew I had to get away and fast. “I imagined you coming off a lot sweeter.”

  “Well I’m sorry your imagination’s disappointed,” I shot back. I walked over to the room Tory had me in the previous night. “And if you think by some miracle we’re going out tonight – you are so wrong!”

  I caught a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes before slamming the wooden door in his face.

  I climbed into bed, wrapping my arms around my chest. The pain was coming back. Not the pain from him but my own personal pain – the pain that didn’t allow me to get close to anyone. It felt as if my heart was broken. Literally broken into tiny pieces. I cried like the baby I was. Tiny, streaming tears slid down my cheeks. I thought I’d cried them all out after what had happened last year. But I guess I was wrong. Did we all have an overabundance of tears in us somewhere? Did we ever run out? I was so sick of crying.

  I lay there for a few hours thinking about my life – how I let myself get to this point. Yes, he had caused this ongoing problem within me. But I could control it – I could stop it whenever I wanted. It was going to be difficult and I wasn’t going to like it – considering acting this way was the norm – but that was what I was going to have to do. And if I ever wanted a chance at being happy again I was going to have to start now. Or I could lose my true self forever.

  THREE.

  I was ninety-nine percent positive I was going insane.

  …The other one percent was in favor of the theory that I already was.

  I was in the beach house alone and afraid. He had come back. He of all people came back. And we were in the same room – my room – the one he’d violated me in all those months ago. The one I hadn’t stepped into since that night.

  “What do you want?” I forced the shaken words out. I was in disbelief I was actually speaking to him.

  “You know what I want,” his voice echoed strangely, shaking the walls around me – angry green eyes glared at me from across the room. Something wasn’t right and not just the fact that he was here confronting me after all this time.

  “Please,” I shook as he somehow ended up in front of me cupping my face with both hands. His rough thumb traced my lower lip. I was trembling.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, kissing my neck forcefully. I closed my eyelids and tried to breathe. When I opened them he lifted his head. It was no longer him.

  It was Jensen.

  That’s when I woke up – a bead of sweat dripping from my forehead. I sat up as I waited for my heart to slow down. Tears slid down my tired face.

  Since the night of July Fourth I had dreams like this – facing him. And then he’d try to kill me in multiple heart-stopping ways. But this one was different, besides the fact it wasn’t nearly as bad as the others. Jensen had been involved now. In a crazy, menacing way it soothed me.

  The sun was shining through the ivory curtains. The heat touched my back, calming my nerves with every ray. I concentrated on breathing and convincing myself that it was only a dream, Avalon. It was only a dream . . . .

  I stretched, threw on a pair of old sweats, then walked down the hall to the bathroom. Today was a new day and I had to talk to Tory. It felt like I hadn’t spoken with her, let alone seen her in days. I shuddered, thinking about Tory leaving, abandoning me – alone, lost and afraid. She was my family, practically blood. And if anything ever happened to her I didn’t know what I’d do. After brushing my teeth and washing my face I descended the large staircase overlooking a marble floor and plush black velvet couches; large pictures of succulents and lush peonies hanging overhead.

  Luckily Tory’s parents had allowed us to decorate the home to our liking. Any time we wanted to change something about it we did so, grateful that the Walt’s still let us use their Platinum whenever we wished. Upon request we had cleaners come by twice a week to tidy up the place and maintain the growing shrubbery outside. We had our own personal shoppers as well. If we couldn’t make the shopping trip we would write down what we wanted – size, color, style – anything, and our personal shoppers would gladly get whatever our little hearts desired. I rarely ever needed a personal shopper. But it was a luxury. And we were spoiled – especially Tory, who’d been taking advantage of this since the day she received the house.

  Tory was sitting on a high-back chair in her Moroccan-themed kitchen. She was reading a magazine; wearing a pair of navy blue sweatpants and gray t-shirt with her short bleached blonde hair in a high ponytail. Her neon pink painted nails shone under the large crystal chandelier overhead. She wasn’t wearing any makeup – an unusual look for her. She was always so put-together.

  “Hey Tory,” I yawned, taking a seat across from her. “You look cute today.” In fact she looked better as a natural beauty - without the fifty pounds of makeup on her face. I told her that many ti
mes but she refused to listen to me.

  “Thanks,” she muttered in a tired voice. She half-smiled, flipping through the magazine, looking down. “How’d you sleep?” No eye contact whatsoever.

  “Fine, thanks,” I fibbed. I couldn’t let her know about the disturbing dream I’d had . . . again. She didn’t know about those. No one did. People would think I was nuts.

  “That’s good.”

  “Thanks for helping me out the other night,” I said, referring to when she’d brought me into the house. “And also for the lip-gloss. I love it.” I’d been in my room the entire day yesterday – sulking – so I didn’t have the chance to thank her then.

  “What are friends for?” She turned the page, staring at her horoscope. She was a big believer in Astronomy and science – lived for the stars and Universe above.

  I looked around the room observing how neat and tidy things were. After the party our cleaning crew must have showed up – just like every other time – to take care of the multitude of imperfections I was sure occurred the other night.

  “How was your chat with Jensen yesterday?” she asked suddenly, taking a sip of tea from a vintage mug she’d acquired on a vacation in Paris two years ago.

  My breath caught in my throat. I hoped he hadn’t told her anything. “Fine,” I said nonchalantly, “why do you ask?”

  “’Cause he left here looking…upset.”

  “Really? Why?” I had my suspicions as to why that could be.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed. “He looked…weird. Like not himself.” She quickly flipped through the magazine, not glancing at the bizarre, quirky and ridiculous celebrity gossip she always loved reading about.

  “That’s strange.” I recalled our heated discussion. Tory’s expression hadn’t changed since I entered the room. “Hey, are you alright?” I’d been so caught up in myself these past few months, I barely knew what was going on with my best friend – something I wasn’t proud of in the slightest. In fact I was pretty ashamed of how I’d been acting – like a zombie.