If Vin was the target, they could have shot him in the first thirty seconds the door was open, before I even got there, when I was still on the bed finishing my water.
"Drink the rest of your water."
It had seemed so sweet, how he wanted me to stay hydrated. But now as the words drift through my mind, they blur and distort like a song slowed down and pulled apart.
"Drink the rest of your wine."
"Finish your wine, baby."
"Let me get you some more wine."
"Drink up, Soren."
I was so tired that day. It wasn't anything different, since I'd been in a state of permanent exhaustion for years despite the fact I didn't really do anything. It was easy to explain it awayas a symptom of whatever mystery illness we were never able to diagnose. But still, when I got out of the tub that night and took that glass of water, the exhaustion came on fast.
"Youlethim in.” I accuse. “He didn't get the drop on you."
I can taste metal, feel a weight on my back, but the pieces aren't connecting.
"He was faster.” Vin’s voice is hard. “I'm so sorry baby, I never meant for you to get hurt."
There's my apology.
But it feels wrong. Something about itiswrong.
"You didn't mean for me to get hurt?"
Vin clamps his mouth shut, and I see his jaw tic once before he switches course.
"I couldn't save you, and I'm sorry about that."
"Couldn't save me fromwhat?"
I can feel it. I've been able to feel it, in my bones, in my soul, in other parts of me, from the moment I woke up in that bathtub. But I want to hear him say it.
"From the rape." His voice cracks. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."
I'm freezing, shaking, but I don't know if that's the trauma or the anger or how cold I am, like everything inside of me is frozen over.
"You couldn't?"
"I'm sorry." Vin shakes his head, and I see his eyes filled with tears, but it still doesn't feel right.
My brain is blocking the memory because it's trying to protect me. I know that. Iunderstandthat. But I need to sink inside of that memory, because something isn't adding up.
Something about that night was off from the start. What was it?
I remember falling on the stairs again, the hand that gripped my ankle and yanked me back toward him. I kicked him in theface, I think. I got away, tried to lock him out of my room. But he was stronger. He really did bust the door open, but it was whenIwas behind it, not Vin.
"I love you, baby. I'm so sorry."
Heavy breaths against my neck as he tackled me to the ground.
I tried to get away, but he got my clothes off of me.
The gun pressed against the back of my head.
And then Vin came in.