Unbeautiful
Page 46

 Jessica Sorensen

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If he only knew what I’ve been up to.
That the girl he knew a couple of weeks ago no longer exists.
That I’ve been erasing her.
I open my mouth to say no but then seal my lips, remembering that, in Evan’s book, no means yes.
And yes means yes.
Everything means yes if he wants it to.
Besides, right now, Taggar is in the backseat.
And, even though I hate that I do, I fear him; he’s as evil as my father.
I slip out of the car after he steals a kiss then trudge up the stairs toward my apartment on the third floor. As I fall back into the routine of my old life with Evan, my feet feel so much heavier than they did when I left my place earlier today.
I want my freedom back, the brief freedom I tasted over the last week.
I will get it back.
I need to come up with a plan. There has to be something I can say that will push Evan away from me, that’ll scare him away from ever wanting to touch me.
I consider knocking on Ryler’s door to ask him for help; but after him not showing up this afternoon, I’m not sure I should, so I pass by it and go up to my apartment.
I find a note taped to my door when I get there. A smile touches my lips as I read it. A rain check, huh? I’m definitely going to take him up on that. Maybe after I get cleaned up, I’ll go downstairs and hang out with him for a little while. I could use his company, and it’ll mean I won’t be here when Evan arrives to take me to the party.
Dropping my bags onto the floor, I walk down the hallway. It’s difficult not to run past the wooden circle, but this time I manage.
When I enter my bedroom, I open my laptop, boot it up, and go to the discussion board to check my messages.
My heart speeds up when I see a reply. Excitement bubbles through me. I might have discovered an answer to one of my mother’s secrets.
But my excitement rapidly dissolves.
“The pill you’re referring to, Unbeautiful,” I read the reply aloud, “is generally used for people who suffer from psychosis.”
Psychosis?
As in crazy?
“Don’t believe anything, Emery, not until you ask the right questions. You can’t get the right answers until then.”
I glance up from my computer at the outline of Ellis standing in my doorway.
“Open your eyes. The world is only what we believe it is. Shut your eyes, and you’re admitting that our parents are right. Don’t let them be right, Emery. Don’t give in like I did.” The outline of him begins to fade. “Help yourself so you can help me. Find me, Emery. Stop leaving yourself with questions and get some answers.”
“Wait.” I leap from my bed and dash toward him, but he disappears through my fingertips.
My gaze scans the computer, the pill, then the spot where the outline of Ellis was standing only moments ago. I think of the cuffs I had to sleep in for months, the bars on my window, my strict schedule, the pills I’ve been on for as long as I can remember, the voices I’ve heard for practically forever.
My brother’s words echo in my head.
Open your eyes. The world is only what we believe it is.
No, I’m not ready to give in just yet, to accept that I’m crazy. I’m not ready to accept that my mother was right, that I don’t belong in the real world.
There has to be more to who I am than being a pretty ornament for Evan. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it, exactly like I’m going to get to the bottom of what happened to my brother. Until I do, I have to keep this discovery my dirty little secret. No one can find out about me.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I’m startled from my thoughts by a rap on the door.
Quickly shutting off the computer, I hurry down the hallway. I don’t head for the front door, but to the sliding glass door. My gaze rolls over the parking lot.
Puddles cover the ground and rain crashes from the sky and onto the cars parked in the parking lot. In the midst of the vehicles, I search for Evan’s car, needing to know it’s not him at the door before I open it. His Cadillac is nowhere in sight, but my mouth plummets to a frown when I spot a Plymouth Barracuda underneath the carport area right in front of my building. The car is rare enough that I know who it belongs to.
“Emery, open up.” My father bangs on the door. “I need to talk to you.”
I grind my teeth together as I inch toward the door.
“Emery, I have a key, so either you can let me in, or I’ll let myself in.”
I shake my head. Of course he has a key.
I unlock the deadbolt and open the front door.
“Why are you here again?” My voice trembles, despite my bold question. I know what the man in front of me can do, have seen it too many times, and family isn’t excluded from his evil.
“Again?” he questions, lifting his hat from his head. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms. “The note on my door that was written in your handwriting.” When he maintains his puzzlement, I continue, “Thou shall not break.”
He rubs his jawline with his brows knitted. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. I didn’t leave a note, but I’m not surprised you received something like that.”
“Of course you’re not, because I know it was you. I know what your handwriting looks like, Father. I know you’ve been doing things to try to scare me back home and that you've been watching me or, at least, your men have.”
“Emery, you will not speak to me like that. If I say I didn’t write it, then I didn’t write it. But you’re right about me watching you, in a sense. Although, not how you mean it.” Thunder claps in the sky, causing us both to flinch. “Now, are you going to let me in so I can explain why I’m here?”