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  Resurrecting Her

  A. M. Wilson

  Resurrecting Her

  Copyright 2016 by A. M. Wilson

  amwilson.net

  All Rights Reserved.

  Permission by the author must be granted before any part of this book can be used for advertising purposes. This includes the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Books by A. M. Wilson

  Standalones

  At the Risk of Forgetting

  Indisputable

  Pitch Dark

  The Revive Series

  Redesigning Fate

  Resurrecting Her

  Unleashing Sin

  His Deliverance

  I hope you have coffee and tissues.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  CHAPTER THREE

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  In my entire life, I had never been more wrong about something, or someone, than I realize I was in this moment. My hands hold the evidence that the person I once loved, trusted, even lived with, wasn’t the person I knew at all. He wasn’t even remotely the man I knew. His past was a chaos of secrets and overgrown lies that years of perfecting deception had groomed. He was an illusion.

  And I had fallen for it since the first act.

  June 3rd, 2003

  “Travis?”

  “It’s time to eat dinner.”

  “Damnit Travis, where are you?”

  Darla’s voice was a whisper on the wind as she called me back inside. But I knew she’d never find me out here.

  She wouldn’t even try.

  The leaves rustled beneath my knees as I leaned forward to yank the leathered handle upward. My switchblade pulled cleanly from the rabbit’s skull. Lifting the blade above my face, I watched the crimson blood glisten in the light of the evening sun.

  Beautiful.

  Cleaning the blade on my pant leg first, I had then thrust the sharp tip into the animal’s gut and tugged it downward. It glided smoothly through the layers of skin and fat, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

  The rabbit’s leg twitched.

  I grinned.

  Snapping the blade closed so I didn’t slice my own hand, I raised my arm above my head. A rush of power overcame me as I slammed the butt of the knife into the rabbit’s skull, crushing it.

  “Travis?”

  Fuck.

  My foster sister Claire walked toward me, shallowly huffing breaths of air. She had obviously run all the way there. Those woods were miles deep all around, and I had to have been half a mile in.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, but she didn’t come any closer. Smart girl.

  “Nothing Claire. Go away.”

  “But Darla wanted me—ˮ

  I cut her off. “I said go the fuck away!”

  “What is that?” she whispered again, and I followed her stunned gaze to the mangled rabbit behind me.

  She could tell. If she let them know what I was doing out here, I’d be sent away again. A different home, a different family, this would be the third time. I was starting to like it here. I didn’t want to be sent away again.

  I turned to her slowly, opened my knife and extended it towards her. Claire’s pretty little eyes shone with fear. But she didn’t move. Brave girl didn’t even twitch a finger.

  “Do you really want to know what I’m doing out here?” I taunted as I took a step closer. “Do you really want to see what that is?”

  She shook her head from side to side vigorously.

  “You aren’t going to tell anyone, are you Claire-bear?”

  I took another step towards her. She shook her head again. I don’t think she actually ever stopped shaking it.

  “Then Go. The. Fuck. Away.” I lunged towards her, and she bolted. She took off faster than the fucking rabbit had before I sunk my knife into its head.

  I wasn’t really going to hurt her, but I had to scare her straight.

  Damnit if she didn’t ruin my fun, though. I kicked some old dead leaves over the animal carcass before I trekked my way back to my “home.”

  “Where you been, Trav?” Darla questioned when I walked through the front door. I stopped off at the powder room to scrub the blood from my hands. There was nothing I could do about the streaks coloring my pants.

  “Woods,” I grunted. Not much for conversation.

  “I saved you a plate. It’s wrapped in the fridge.”

  “Thanks.” I took that plate from the refrigerator, some sort of dark meat and potatoes with a side of broccoli, and popped it into the microwave. I filled myself a glass of milk and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Darla didn’t leave. She plopped down at the seat across from me, her hands folded in front of her.

  Instead of lifting my fork, I stared at her, waiting for her to speak. Darla combed back her brown bangs, which had fallen into her face. Her thin, almond blue eyes remained unblinking from mine.

  I’d been here only a few weeks, and this had been my favorite home so far, but I knew Darla wouldn’t stand for my crap. I could tell by the set of her face, the kind features held sternly; the fact she had four grown, successful children of her own. You don’t raise successful kids by being a fuck up parent. Sure, maybe a few defy the odds, but the kids who make it have the parents to back them up.

  “How are you doing, Travis?” she asked, not unkindly.

  “Fine.”

  “I mean how are you adjusting?” She tried again at my singular answer.

  “I’m good,” I told her, picked up my fork, and dug in to the mashed potatoes. I was starving, and she wasn’t going away.

  “Travis.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here for you. If you need someone to talk to, or vent to, you can always come to me. You don’t have to run off and be by yourself. That’s not how things work here.” She looked as if she wanted to reach out and touch me. But she didn’t.

  I was glad she didn’t. Nobody had ever touched me without my permission before. She wasn’t about to be the first.

  “Mrs. Carlson—ˮ

  “Call me Darla.”

  “Darla,” I started again. “I’m fine. I just wanted to be alone.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but she said no more.

  I ate uncomfortably under her scrutiny, as she wouldn’t leave me alone. But as much as her presence was annoying me, I was also comforted. Almost half my life had passed since I had someone who actually cared for me. Now my mom lived in a fucking mental ward, and I was parentless. And this lady actually wanted to pay attention to me. The least I could do was let her sit silently if it made her feel better.

  That summer started off slowly. Darla didn’t bother me much about going off by myself, but I still noticed her watching me. And several times she tried to send her husband Mark to talk to me. I overheard them talking one night about how I needed a friend. Darla thought maybe
I’d form some type of bond with her husband, seeing as I’ve never had a father in my life before. The poor woman was sadly mistaken if she thinks I want some pretend, stand in dad.

  Mark tried to get me to play games with the other kids. He’d bring me with to hit baseballs or kick the soccer ball. He’d tried to get me to go tubing up at the lake or to even play in the water. I always said no. When the group activities didn’t work, he moved on to getting me to play with him one-on-one. He wanted to play catch or take me to the movies. He’d relieve Darla of her watch when I’d come in late for dinner and just stare at me. He tried to bring up conversations about books or cartoons or video games. Mostly, I stayed quiet.

  I think all my avoiding made him mad.

  One night, after I had wandered in particularly late, I found Mark in the living room waiting for me. He told me how I had missed dinner and Darla had taken the other kids to the weekly movie at the park, and he had to stay home with me. I wasn’t allowed to go, but that was okay by me. I didn’t like hanging out with them anyways. I was sent to my room with a sandwich for supper and early lights out.

  After I had eaten my dinner, I pulled off my shirt, put on my pajama pants, and crawled into bed. I took out my notebook I hid beneath the mattress and began to doodle to pass the time.

  I heard a knock on my door so I tossed the notebook under the bed and pretended to be asleep. The door creaked open, the light from the hallway spilling over the comforter and illuminating my face. I kept my eyes closed tightly and held perfectly still until I was sure he went away. When I heard the door close again, I let out a sigh and opened my eyes. But I was startled, because Mark didn’t go away. He was in my room, in the dark, coming closer to me.

  And now, he knew I was awake.

  Mark sat down on the edge of the bed in front of me, and I looked up at him fearfully. In the weeks since I’d come here, he’s never come into my room while I was sleeping. My brain was telling me to do something—to kick, to scream, to fight—but all I could do was lie still and watch him. He watched me. He looked…different. He lifted his hand and placed it against my belly over the top of my blanket.

  What does he want? If I lie still, will he go away?

  “You know, Travis, you’ve been getting away with an awful lot since you came to live with us. The other kids don’t act the way you do. Do you know why that is?”

  I was staring right into his eyes, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My body betrayed me and shut down.

  He continued as if he hadn’t expected an answer from me. “The other kids know what’s expected of them. They’ve been punished for misbehaving. The other kids know the consequences. But I don’t think you do. I think you need a little lesson. And you’re going to sit quietly until you learn it. If you don’t, the police are going to come and take you away. You’ve been a bad kid, Travis. I know about the knife you carry around. It’s dangerous and illegal. Would you want me to tell the police what you’ve been up to?”

  I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. How did he know about the knife? Maybe Claire told on me after all, or maybe he’s been spying on me. I don’t want the police to lock me up. I’m not a bad kid. I want my mom. So I gave my head the teensiest of shakes. The smile that spread across Mark’s face was completely disturbing.

  “Good boy. Now how about we take down these covers and get on with our lesson.”

  Chapter One

  Marlena

  The words leap off the page so quickly my eyes begin to burn as I try to catch each one and process what I’m reading. The truth. The lies. The deception behind the man I once thought of as my broken knight. The horrors of his past almost make me feel sorry for him.

  Almost.

  But as easily as my empathy ignites, the memories of the past couple weeks douse it. I can’t seem to reconcile what I ever did to deserve the kidnapping, the abuse. The hatred. In return for my heart and soul, Travis exchanged emotional pain. Maybe he was transferring his own pain onto me? I’m not a psychiatrist, and it’s likely I’ll never know.

  The pages whisper to me in the silence of the room, begging me to read more. Telling me I need to understand. My need for answers about why Travis treated me as poorly as he did nearly weighs me down, so I put the book down again. Nobody stopped me from picking it back up and opening it near the beginning. My friends didn’t stop me from reading, from indulging my curiosity. Instead, they fell into the background like the evening shadows in the room.

  The second my fingertips release contact it’s like an invisible thread is broken. The sounds of voices return to my ears, and I remember I’m not alone.

  I look up from the journal in time to see Elias exchange a nod with Sin. Whatever he’s communicating, Sin receives and quietly exits the apartment without another word. I shiver and curl into Elias’s side, Travis’s penned voice still haunting me.

  “Lunch is ready,” Shelby says, prompting us to join her at the table. We sit together quietly, and no one speaks of the leather bound notebook, but I can’t get its image out of my head.

  Half of me says let it go. Why do I care about the past of someone who hurt me so badly? But the other half is curious, demanding answers for my suffering.

  The bread feels gritty against my tongue as I try to eat lunch. From the corner of my eye, I catch Shelby watching me with a look of concern. I give her a small smile and focus on eating the sandwich she kindly prepared.

  Elias’s warm hand lands on my knee, and I startle, almost dropping my food to my plate.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I take in the look of concern on his face, and then look away. When will the pitying looks stop? I know I haven’t exactly been holding my own, but each day I’ve been stronger than the last.

  “Yeah.” I smile. “I’m fine. How are you doing? Your home has been invaded. Sorry about that.”

  He captures my chin and pulls me in for a soft kiss. His lips press against mine, reminding me of every kiss before this and each one to follow. “I’d take much more than a few extra bodies in my house if it means keeping you close and keeping you safe. Besides, Shelby and Sin are my friends. The only one who comes with you is DJ, and he hasn’t been much of a bother.”

  “I heard that.”

  We all laugh at DJ, who somehow managed to lighten the brittle mood.

  “Hey, Elias?” My tentative voice pulls him from a conversation with DJ, and he looks to me questioningly. “Are we still going to talk? Um, all of us?”

  He and Shelby exchange a glance that has me ready to explode. “Will you all quit looking at each other every time I speak and giving me varying looks of pity and just answer my questions? I know I haven’t been acting like someone who can handle much, but I’m fine. Nothing has changed from getting that package to now, and I still want to talk. Only if you stop treating me like I’m about to break.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. We’re waiting for Sin to get back and then we’ll talk. Nothing has changed.”

  “Sin’s back. Let’s talk.” His voice booms through the kitchen as he walks through the apartment door with Detective Nelson following behind.

  “What is Detective Nelson doing here?” I ask Elias, who’s rising from his chair to greet the two men. Grabbing our plates, I take those to the sink and try to listen to their conversation.

  …I’ll bag it. Take it in as evidence.

  …Sin said she read a few pages?

  …Is she coping okay? Do you need another sedative?

  …Keep an eye on her.

  The sound of glass shattering causes everyone to turn and stare at me. The plate I was rinsing cracked and shattered under my grip. Anger wells up inside of me as I repeat the words again and again in my head.

  I’m so weak.

  So fucking weak!

  My hands curl into fists, and the pain in my palm hardly registers through the anger rushing through me. Warm blood trickles down my forearm. “A sedative?”
I ask in a deadly calm voice. “You’ve been drugging me?”

  “Marlee—ˮ

  “How dare you?” The trembling starts in my arms and ricochets throughout my body as a cold shiver sweeps through me from head to toe. “Why would you drug me? Without telling me?”

  “Babe.” Shelby’s attempt is a soft coo.

  Forget them and their gentleness and their pity and their cooing.

  “Don’t. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. Don’t be my friend here, Shel. This entire time, you three have done nothing but keep secrets from me and lie to me. Every time I think I’m about to get answers, I find out more lies.”

  Detective Nelson looks entirely too bored with this conversation.

  “And let me guess,” I continue, speaking directly to him. “You knew all about it. You know all about everything. You probably gave them the sedative, right? Instead of taking me back to my own doctor for a legal prescription, you just let them drug me up with whatever it is you all have your hands on. Am I right?”

  “Girl, you were screaming in your sleep.” Sin cuts me off with a look of challenge in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Screaming. Thrashing. Crying and choking. It was a goddamned nightmare in a nightmare.”

  “I don’t understand. I haven’t had a nightmare since I was released from the hospital.”

  “You did,” Sin says. “Just the one. We only sedated you just the once.”

  “Well that was one time too many.” The venom in my voice isn’t hard to miss.

  “I disagree when nobody can come within ten feet of you without you nearly killing yourself trying to get away. It was for your own safety,” he fires back.

  “It was for your convenience.” I scrub my forehead in frustration, and the wet warmth surprises me. The blood from my hand ends up smeared on my face.

  “For fuck’s sake. Come here, girl.” Sin’s large stride eats up the space between us, and he maneuvers me towards the sink. Even after everything, his huge hands bring a comfort I’m unaccustomed to. He’s not Elias, but there’s a new trust building between Sin and me that makes me feel safe.