Page 15 of Unwrapping Deviance

Even now as he fists the denim, the war behind his hungry eyes is unmistakable as he peels them off me and chucks it towards the foot of the bed. I let my thighs slip open so he can see the damp stain he — and his brother —have created and I know he sees it when he sucks in a loud breath.

Touch me,I beg silently.

But Daniel is the epitome of control.

I know he won’t even before he jerks back. The sheets are yanked around me and he’s practically racing to the door.

CHAPTER FOUR

MIRA

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The world is a black void when my eyes spring open several hours later, my nightmare a rabid dog on my heels into reality. Each one is a slideshow of events spanning back years, a decade ago on a bright, sunny afternoon when Dad packed my bags and took me away. The sounds of my mother’s howls as police officers and children services had to restrain her from grabbing me.

I didn’t know at seven that Mom had a severe addiction to pain medication and alcohol. When I came home to her passed out on the sofa, I assumed she was sleeping. When there was nothing for supper, I didn’t think it was strange to just make a sandwich on my own. It was normal — to me.

But the school didn’t think so. They were concerned by my hygiene, my lack of lunch, my waiting outside the school for hours for someone to pick me up. They didn’t understand we were fine.

But that year had been a storm of meetings, of learning my mother was banned from ever seeing me again, of getting packed up and shipped off to another province to live with a man I didn’t know but grew to love. I met Sophie who lived down the street and for a time, everything was okay. I had clean, new clothes. There was food in the fridge not covered in mold. I had a friend.

Mom became a memory, a hazy dream quickly fading with every passing year. I only knew her through infrequent cards and phone calls Dad shouldn’t have allowed but would pretend he didn’t know about because they made me happy. We didn’treconnect until I was sixteen and she called to tell me she’d been sober a whole year. Had an apartment, a job. Our relationship picked up, becoming regular texts and phone calls. She was still not allowed to see me in person, but we both agreed I would be eighteen soon and no one could stop us. It was our little joke.

She told me about Daniel, the angel who saved her and brought me back to her. She talked about him with such love and devotion that I felt like I knew him before I ever set eyes on him.

Then she got the diagnosis.

She was fine one day and given a year the next. I begged Dad to let me see her, that the courts didn’t have to know, but it was too risky. No one cared that she had turned her whole life around or that she was dying.

Then, as if the universe was a sick Genie granting my wish, Dad died. Sophie died. Kalen died. And suddenly, I was free to see my mom who was in the process of dying.

The courts had no problem shucking me off to live with a woman they deemed unfit the month before when I was already so close to turning eighteen anyway.

But at night when I’m too weak to keep my walls up, I know it’s my fault I’m alone. I made it happen. I caused the deaths of everyone I loved because I wasn’t getting what I wanted. I manifested this curse, and, in my dreams, I get to watch each of them die one by one in order before it flips and I’m holding Daniel as he takes his last breath.

The terror is always enough to jolt me awake gasping for air, face hot with tears. My fingers are always claws already reaching for him in the dark.

In the beginning, after Mom died, Daniel would always reach back. For a month, he slept in a chair next to my bed. He was there with the first whimper, strong arms a secure hook pulling me back together.

He didn’t start falling asleep in my bed until I’d already turned eighteen and I’d wake to him there, lean body a perfect spoon around mine, a protective blanket keeping all the demons at bay. He’d show up in the night and just stay until we both dozed off.

He may have married my mom on paper, he may have been her best friend first, but he’s my best friend now. He’s my whole world. I can’t lose him. It would destroy me.

Yet the universe loves taunting me, reminding me that I made this happen. That it’s only a matter of time.

Trembling, I shove back the blankets and slide off the mattress. The boards groan beneath my weight as I tiptoe to the bathroom.

Murky, yellow light spills over the sink, toilet and tub. It casts a dull halo across the brown, plastic linoleum. It sticks a little to my feet as I pad over to the sink.

It takes all of ten minutes to wash the tears crusted to my cheeks, brush my teeth and knots from my hair, and switch to my sleeping t-shirt — a knee length piece in soft, blush pink.

I glare at my stupid reflection in the mirror, at the stupid girl with the selfish heart. She stares back with the same disgust, and I wonder — not for the first time — what the hell my purpose is. Why did everyone else die and not me? Why am I still here?

Sophie loved fashion. She could put together an outfit using a toothpick and a scarf. She was brilliant and talented, and I’m still pissed that she betrayed me, but she deserved to live.

Dad was brilliant. He could fix anything with a screwdriver and a paperclip. He was sweet, kind, and patient. He loved me when I was a terror. When I was throwing fits to see Mom that had the police coming to our door. He had every right to hand me off to the system, but he never even raised his voice. He’d tell me we’d work through it together and we eventually did.

Mom ... Mom was a different story. We had a bond even when we were apart. As I got older, I realized she had a sickness that she needed to get help for. I still loved her. Right to the end. But she pulled her life together. She was doing her best.

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