Page 98 of Forever and Other Lies

The first week, she hurt everywhere. Her wrists were still chafed from being too tightly bound. Her mind wouldn’t shut down, and the fear wouldn’t go away. She felt frightened and so very alone, even when her friends were with her.

She woke up gasping every night. It was always the same dream, taking her back to that dark, cold root cellar. ‘It’s too late, Jayna. Way too late.’ Sonny’s distorted voice and twisted evil face kept replaying. In her dream, Sonny grabbed her arm and sunk the lethal syringe into her vein just as Derek raced down the stairs. Too late, way too late. Derek screamed that he loved her. Finally! But he was too late.

The bittersweet feeling tinged with absolute terror clung to her throughout the day, and the vivid dream waited for her to fall asleep each night.

She was recovering physically from the ordeal, but her emotional wounds still felt raw. And her heart? Well, it was shattered. The truth was, Derek did love her. Just not enough to force him to face his own demons and find a way past them.

While he stood at the end of her hospital bed, she had studied him. She watched as he twisted his hands together, staring at his feet. She’d zoned in on the tight line of his mouth and the heartbreak in his eyes once he made eye contact and finally spoke. “I’m not trustworthy. I don’t deserve forgiveness or love. I break everything I touch.”

Even though he had made up with his twin, he still felt immense guilt. He still felt like that young boy who could never live up to the expectations of everyone around him. He felt unworthy and was still putting up walls and pushing people away. He was still pushing her away.

He’d never let her in.

She drew in an unsteady breath, rapidly blinking away the unwanted memory, wishing there was a way to permanently erase it. Erase not only Sonny from her thoughts, but Derek as well. Twice she’d let herself believe in him. Twice he’d proven she couldn’t. If only she could hate him. That would make it easier to move past him.

The doorbell chimed, and she jumped, her heart racing. She stared at the foyer and the burning acid of fear creeped up her throat. Opening the front door was difficult. PTSD was the diagnosis the psychiatrist had given her. No surprise.

On shaky legs, she walked into the front hall. A state-of-the-art alarm system had been installed, along with the best deadbolt on the market. She stared at the camera that displayed the front porch. Her mother stood there, elegant in a tailored suit.

Unbolting the lock, Jayna pulled open the door. “Hi.”

She stepped aside. Catherine Sutton walked in, her Manolo Blahniks clicking against the hardwood floor. The cloyingly strong scent of Chanel No. 5 overpowered the small space.

“Jayna, darling, how are you?”

Jayna sucked in a deep breath of fresh air before closing the door. “I’m fine.”

“Well, isn’t this…quaint,” her mother spoke the last word with distaste. Her eyes swept into the living room, lingering on the mismatched furniture and rustic salvaged pieces.

“Thank you,” Jayna replied, ignoring the insult. “I’m very happy here. It feels like home.” She omitted that it felt like the first home she’d ever known. Until Sonny had smashed his way in and ... No, she didn’t want to think about it.

Her mother gave a tight-lipped smile. “If you say so. But I must say that I envisioned something more sophisticated for you. Have you blown through your trust fund? Do you need more money?”

“I’ve barely touched it,” Jayna replied. “Come on in, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Catherine glanced around, finally settling on the couch. “I wanted to see how you were doing after that awful experience.”

After that awful experience, as her mother had put it, Jayna was done wasting time and pretending. She was done with small talk and avoiding difficult discussions. She sat down opposite her mother and studied her face. It had obviously been touched up by a skilled plastic surgeon. Not a single line was present. Rather than give Catherine an ageless look, it gave her an emotionless appearance. It suited her.

“Why didn’t you spend more time with me when I was growing up?” she asked instead of answering her mother’s question. Jayna asked the very question she had been pondering right before her mother had rung the doorbell. “Was I so unlovable?”

Her mother looked taken aback. Or at least Jayna thought she did. It was hard to tell, as her forehead didn’t move. “Jayna, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Her voice raised. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me, all alone in that big house with only hired help to care for me? You and Dad were always traveling, always too busy. Why was I never enough to make you stay?”

Catherine let out a long sigh. “Jayna, darling, you had everything you needed. The best nannies, a beautiful home. Anything you wanted, you were given. We gave you the very best life.”

“The best life?” Jayna’s eyes filled with tears. “Having my parents around when I needed them would have been the best life. I needed you, Mom. Not a nanny.”

Her mother met her gaze, her eyes softening. “I did my best. My own parents were always gone, too. I grew up in boarding schools. We just raised you the same way your father and I were raised. I thought you understood that.”

Jayna shook her head, her voice cracking. “I didn’t. I felt abandoned. And terrified to let anyone close. Terrified, they will leave me too.” Like Derek had. “I needed my parents’ love and attention, not possessions.”

Catherine sighed. “I didn’t realize you felt this way. I thought we had given you a wonderful life.”

Jayna wiped away her tears. “I need you to acknowledge that you hurt me. That you weren’t there when I needed you the most.”

“I’m sorry, Jayna, truly I am. I wish I could go back and change things. But I’m here now. If you’ll let me, I would like to help.”

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