Page 38 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers

CHAPTER THIRTY

MAEREN

Pacing around my room trying not to hyperventilate, my thoughts drift to the fight with Xander.

I don’t understand why the fuck he would lie to me like that.

I told him nothing he did bothered me. I told him I wasn’t afraid, and still he lied .

One of the only two people in this world who truly care about me blatantly lied and I don’t know how to let it go.

I feel like I can’t take in enough air. I crawl into my bed and under the covers, trying to not think about how the sheets still smell like him .

I really really thought that he could have been my forever, and it turns out my forever was over in two short months.

I could see myself becoming truly happy for the first time in my life.

There was someone willing to care for me and take care of me and protect me and love me for the first time and now it’s all over.

Maybe I blew things out of proportion, maybe it really wasn’t him?

The reality is that Xander is as shitty as everyone else who’s ever fucked me over, and I can’t handle one more person trying to make me feel fucking crazy.

I can’t be crazy, I can’t be like my mother.

I can’t I can’t I can’t I chant to myself over and over as my nails tear angry red streaks from wrist to elbow.

The more I think through every interaction with Xander and compare it to every nagging feeling I’ve had over the last couple months, the less sure I become of anything.

I don’t know If I’m more angry at Xander, or at myself.

I thought my eyes were empty of tears but the dam breaks once more and I can’t hold back the river of tears flowing down my face as I cry myself to sleep.

The next four days are spent in bed after calling out of work with the excuse of having the flu.

Sage thinks I’m sick as well because I refuse to tell her what really happened.

I do not want to be responsible for someone’s murder and I know with absolute certainty that she would murder Xander if I told her how badly he had upset me.

Instead I lied and told her I saw the doctor and had meds but I did not want to risk getting her sick by having her visit me.

It wasn’t like I was dying even if it felt like I was.

She was pissed, but eventually relented if I promised to tell her as soon as I was better so she could come over, which I did begrudgingly.

I only left my bed to use the bathroom and grab small bites of food, spending the rest of my time drifting in and out of consciousness in an effort to block out the entire world while in my warm cocoon with Gracie.

Then my phone rings, once, twice, three times.

I hope to God it’s not Xander. He’s already been texting me every fucking day, I don’t need him to start calling me too.

I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my head with my pillow, trying to block out the shrill sound, not wanting to know who’s name is flashing across the screen.

The ringing stops and I finally look at the notification, it’s none other than the devil herself—my mother.

Not wanting to talk to her I let the call go to voicemail once more before my phone buzzes with an onslaught of messages.

Still better than actually talking to her.

I’m not mentally strong enough to resist her provocation at the moment, and one mean comment will send me into another spiral.

After several minutes the messages stop coming.

3:31 pm: “I see you don’t have time to answer your phone.”

3:32 pm: “Just so you know Thanksgiving is next Thursday if you would like to join us. Simon would love to have a family dinner.”

3:32 pm: “Though I’m not sure why after the last one went awfully, all thanks to you of course.”

3:34 pm: “You need to attend, I would love to have the three of us together.”

3:35 pm: “I’ll see you Thursday at five—don’t be late, and don’t embarrass me.”

Lucky me, another holiday with my mother, sure to be terrible like all of the rest. I’ve been so good about not caving to her, but this doesn’t exactly feel like surrender.

If I don’t go she’ll be on my ass for weeks but if I do go I’ll only have to suffer through a few hours with her, pretending to be cordial and like I’m not planning on it being the last time I ever see her.

The choice is obvious and I have five days to prepare.

I type out a succinct message and hit send, preparing to try and drag myself out the dark space I’m in so I don’t have to face an onslaught of questioning. Leanne can scent weaknesses from a mile away, after all.

Me: Sure, thanks for the invite. I’ll bring pie. See you Thursday.

I have four days to get my shit together and put my heartbreak aside.

I can do it. And when I get out of bed I realize I should start with fresh sheets and a shower.

Yeah, definitely a shower. My bathroom fogs up with the stream of hot water as I step inside of the bathtub.

God it feels so good. As I lather up my body with calming lavender scented soap and massage shampoo through my knotted bedhead, the sadness and brain fog of the last few days starts to melt away and wash down the drain.

When I get out and dressed in comfy clothes I work through the knots in my hair, meeting my tired reflection in the mirror.

I look like absolute shit. Ordering takeout and drinking water should do the trick.

I dial up my favorite local Chinese restaurant for delivery as I wait for my bedding to wash.

One bite into my mushroom chicken and my skin should be radiant once more.

Plopping down on my couch I turn on my TV, not willing to watch anything even remotely romantic.

I end up on a sci-fi movie, not my usual crime genre but something just a little lighter is needed right now.

A knock at my door startles me from my trance on the TV and I rush up to grab my takeout.

The college aged delivery driver flashes me a warm smile and hands me the bag of food and before running back down the stairs.

I shut the door and spread the takeout boxes on my coffee table before digging in.

I gorge myself and soon feel my eyes getting too heavy to keep open.

I startle awake to a black living room. Blinking my eyes I try to see through the darkness. I know I didn’t turn my TV off before falling asleep. Weird. Pushing myself up, I grab my phone and use the glow to light my wayas I stumble to my bedroom. I’ll worry about cleaning up in the morning.

As I clamber into bed and under the covers, I hear a rustle from somewhere in my room.

It must be Gracie, so I click my tongue at her a few times to get her attention, hoping she’ll jump up and cuddle me.

She doesn’t though, clearly choosing to ignore me, so I snuggle into my duvet and close my eyes.

I’m nearly asleep when I feel a soft brush against the side of my face.

Gracie’s tail, guess she decided to come to bed after all.

I reach out to push her tail away and instead grasp something firm.

A hand. It’s a fucking hand. My breath locks in my chest for a moment before I scream and kick out, scrambling across the mattress and trying to untangle myself from the covers.

Hands continue to reach for me and I make contact with my attacker’s body, eliciting a grunt from him as I continue to flail and kick my legs.

My mind whirls as I think of what to do next.

My phone is on my nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, so I can’t call for help.

The only thing I can do besides try to get away is scream and hope a neighbor hears me and calls the cops.

It’s the middle of the night though, so the odds aren’t good.

I try anyways and belt out as loud as I can, “ Help me, help me, somebody help me! ”

The attacker climbs further up onto the bed after me, not bothered by my screaming, and I scramble back, jumping off the bed and blindly feeling around on my nightstand for anything I can use to incapacitate them.

I find purchase with my bedside lamp, not enough to do serious damage but enough to provide some distraction so I can get away.

I pick the lamp up and swing it when my attacker seems close, making contact with some part of him, as he grunts and mumbles out ‘fucking bitch’ . I use that opening to run out of my room and through the front door, not stopping to look back and see if I’m being chased.

My screams continue as I plead for someone to help me as I race down the flight of stairs. A bottom floor neighbor opens their door and peaks their head out, looking worried as they take me in.

I run to them and shove my way inside. “Please, please call the cops. He’s attacking me, someone is in my apartment and was trying to attack me,” I sob.

My neighbor looks stunned now, but he locks his door behind us and dials nine-one-one, telling the operator someone was just attacked in his apartment building.

I sink to the floor once dispatch is on the way and breakdown, sobbing uncontrollably. My neighbor tries to calm me and offers me water, and I greedily choke it down. My throat raw and burning from my pleading screams.

Police sirens sound a few minutes later and there’s a knock at the door before two officers are let in.

They sit down next to me on the couch and introduce themselves, Bradford and Thomas, before asking me what happened.

I hysterically recount the entire harrowing encounter for them, trying to not choke on my words.

“Okay, ma’am. We’ve got all of that written down—” A beep from Bradford’s radio cuts off his words as he listens to the distorted voice coming through. “Roger, I’ll let her know, thanks.”

“Let me know what?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“Two additional officers searched your apartment and the entire perimeter of the building. No one was found. We can swab your apartment for prints, but if the assailant isn’t already in the system, or if they wore gloves, we won’t be able to make any arrest.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” What else is there to say?

“It would help if you can give us a detailed description of what they look like, now I know you said it was dark, but can you remember anything of importance that might help us identify them? Or do you know of anyone who would do something like this?”

I feel so fucking defeated right now, and it makes me cry harder. “No, uh it was completely dark. It was a man, maybe just under six foot? Not very large. I’m sorry that’s all I can tell you. I don’t know who they are, or who they could be.”

The officer nods and hands me a card with his contact info on it. “Well, if you can think of anything else please let me know. The area is secure and we will have patrol out tonight as an extra precaution. Make sure to lock your doors too, as the other officer’s said there wasn’t any forced entry.”

“Okay, thank you,” I swallow. “Wait. I called before about someone leaving me notes, pictures of myself, and flowers. What if this is related? Like a stalker?”

“It’s hard to tell, but it could be. I’ll look for your previous report, and if we find any links we will let you know. It’s probably best you not stay alone for the rest of the night. Is there anyone we can call for you before we leave?” Thomas asks as both officers stand up.

“N-no. I don’t think so. Could you just bring me my phone? It was left in my bedroom and I don’t want to go back in there right now.”

Officer Thomas nods and heads into the hall, grabbing my phone from an officer who I assume took part in the search. He hands it to me as he says, “Take care now, and don’t hesitate to call us again if needed.”

I nod and with that the officers depart.

“Soooo…” A voice brings me from the trance I’m in and I remember where I am. In my neighbor’s apartment. I look up at the blonde I’ve literally never met before and mortification sweeps over me.

“Oh, my God. I am so so sorry. I’ll call someone to come get me, is that okay? Or I can just leave now if you want me to. God I am so sorry.”

“I can wait for you to get help. Really it’s no problem at all, no need to apologize . . . Maeren, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Trent.” He offers a warm smile and sits down on the floor across from me.

Staring at my phone and thinking of who to call I suddenly feel like a bucket of ice water has been poured over me.

Because Xander said he wasn’t the one leaving me notes and flowers and whatever else.

He swore he wasn’t lying, and he obviously isn’t the one who just broke in. He has to be telling the truth.

I have a sudden feeling that whoever is the one following me and leaving me tokens is the same person who broke in. I want to throw up. I’ve never felt more unsafe in my life.

My mind is made up instantly and I dial Xander’s number. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, I have an emergency, and we need to talk. Can you come pick me up?”