Page 5 of Unlocked

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. I don’t know how you are so calm talking about all of this.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “So, you’re happy? You’re really in love?” I ask, needing to hear her answer in person. The two of us have always been able to know when the other isn’t being completely truthful. Not that either of us makes it a habit to lie, but sometimes you say things to your friend to keep them from worrying.

“Yes,” Marley declares, her face glowing with the truthfulness of her answer. I shake my head, trying to understand how my independent friend has allowed a man to take over her life so completely. The old Marley would never let a man tell her she couldn’t leave the house without an escort.

Reaching the top of the stairs, we turn to the left, and she leads me down the hall. We are just about half way down when we come to the elevator she’d mentioned when we were downstairs. The door opens and a man in a wheelchair rolls out into the hallway. “Hey, baby girl.” The man’s deep voice callsas we reach him. He reaches out, taking Marley’s hand, pulling her onto his lap. I can feel my face heat at their PDA. He gives her a quick kiss before turning to me. “Hello, Shelby. I’m Luke Robertson. Welcome to our home. I’m glad you could join us,” the man says, holding out his hand to shake mine. I oblige him, taking in his appearance. He has short black hair with a trimmed beard and mustache so similar to Bo’s that I’m taken aback for a second. When our hands meet, there isn’t any hint of the type of reaction my body had to Bo. I’m a little disappointed. Not that I want to be attracted to Marley’s man, but I’d hoped my body’s reaction to Bo was because it had been so long since I’m been around an overly attractive man and not to the man himself. Luke is very handsome as well, but no sparks. What does this mean in regards to Bo? Why does he have such an effect on me?

“Thank you, Luke. I’m happy to be here,” I reply. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.” He nods before turning to Marley who is still in his lap. He kisses her again, and I have to turn away at the raw passion in their kiss, even though I can tell they are both holding back, since I’m standing right there. Lord, what their kisses must be like in private! I hear Marley giggling. I glance at her to see she’s laughing at me. I realize then that I’m fanning myself, which only adds to my embarrassment.

“Sorry, Shelby,” Marley says, but I can tell she isn’t one bit sorry. “We tend to forget ourselves sometimes.” She looks at Luke with such deep adoration it’s almost painful to see. I just wave her off as if it isn’t a big deal. “Come on let me show you our room,” Marley says as she slides out of Luke’s lap, and we continue down the hall to a room at the end.

We enter the massive room, and I’m taken aback at the beauty of it. A huge king-sized bed is in the center of the far wall. There is an adaptor that I assume helps Luke transfer from his chair to the bed. The wall past the bed is all glass, giving aspectacular view of the ocean. Long gauzy white curtains hang at either end.

“This is our room,” Marley informs me as she walks over to show me the view from the balcony. “All of the bedrooms have a balcony with a view of the ocean. The house is a long L-shape so each room faces the ocean except for the room on the opposite end. It has a side view of the ocean.” I take it all in, speechless at the splendor before me. “Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms and figure out where Bo put your things.” I nod absently, following her. Luke seems to have gone back downstairs.

We exit Marley’s room and peek inside rooms as we make our way down the hall. All the rooms are gorgeous, decorated in nautical themes that seem masculine. On the third room, we look into, I see my belongings sitting beside the bed. It’s a well-lite, beautiful room with a gorgeous view of the ocean from the small balcony just outside a set of French doors. The room has a manly feel. The bed has a Navy-blue comforter with a couple of throw pillows of the same shade of blue. The walls are a pale gray with a dark gray carpet.

“Here’s the bathroom.” Marley flips on the light. I step inside to see a marble sink on the wall with the door. The scent hits me right away causing a shiver to run from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Bo Robertson’s scent. It had filled my nose on the drive from the airport and has just reinforced its residence when I inhaled. Is this Bo’s room? If so, why did he put my things in here? I need to ask Marley about this, but first I take in the rest of the room.

Right in front of the door is a toilet closet. Walking between the sink and shower stall, I step further into the room. A large garden tub with jets sits in a corner flanked by windows from about waist high to the ceiling. I’m standing in front of the shower stall that is just past the toilet closet door. It’s a largeshower with multiple shower heads. There’s a man’s bodywash on the shelf in the shower. Now is the time to ask.

“Does Bo live here with his brother?” I ask Marley as I exit the bathroom.

“No, but the guys do stay here often,” Marley informs me. “Especially since all the crap that went down with me. This is the room Bo usually stays in. I’m not sure why he put your things in here,” she says with a frown. “I guess he figures he can bunk with one of the others if they decide to stay over.” I nod thoughtfully. I suppose that makes sense. It is nice that he is giving up his room not wanting to make one of his brother’s give up their room. I’m suddenly hit with the fatigue that’s been chasing me for days.

“Do you mind if I take a short nap?” I ask Marley when she’s finished my tour of the upstairs. “I haven’t slept well in a couple of nights, and I’m worn out.” Marley turns to me with concern in her eyes.

“Is everything okay? You aren’t sick, are you?” I shake my head.

“Nothing is wrong. Just nerves about traveling,” I assure her, though the partial lie tastes bad on my tongue. She gives me an assessing look. I hold my gaze, praying she doesn’t call me out on my half-truth. Traveling does make me nervous, but the real reason I haven’t been sleeping is the nightmares that have begun to plague me again. Despite many hours and thousands of dollars spent in therapy and on medications, I still suffer with nightmares from my childhood from time to time. The littlest of things can trigger them. Sometimes I don’t even know what causes them to return. It’s frustrating, to say the least. Staying in my friend’s home, it will be embarrassing if I wake the whole house with my wailing. Of all times for them to return, I haven’t had one in over a year this time.Why now?

“Um, Marley?” I call out as she’s about to leave my room. She turns to face me. “I really don’t mind getting a hotel room. Iknow you have a lot of family coming to stay. It’s not a hardship for me to get a room somewhere.” Marley glowers at me, her lips pursing.

“Shelby, we’ve already had this argument when I called to invite you,” Marley reminds me. “You aren’t staying in a hotel. We have plenty of room so stop worrying, okay?” I concede, but I don’t like it. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my nightmares a secret if I stay here. Marley knows about my dad, that he didn’t treat me well, but I haven’t been truthful with her about how bad it had been or how much all of that still affects me.

When I had first began therapy and had begun getting better, I had been ashamed to admit when I had a relapse, so as far as Marley knows, I’ve been over all of that for more than ten years. I should be honest with her so she won’t be alarmed if I freak out, but I’m so ashamed of my issues. I’m hoping it won’t be a problem. I brought my sleep aid with me, and I fully intend to take my medication every night before bed. I had slacked off recently, thinking that I was finally cured, but I should have known better. Hopefully, if I start taking it again, I will get back on track without disturbing anyone here.

I head into the bathroom and wash my face before changing into a sleep set. I crawl into the large bed and pull the covers over my head. I set my alarm for two hours. If I sleep longer than that, I won’t be able to sleep tonight, and it will increase the chances I’ll have a nightmare. I just need a quick nap so I don’t fall asleep while helping Marley pick out flowers for her wedding. I snuggle into the very comfortable bed, Bo’s scent surrounding me. I’ll never fall asleep smelling him like this, I think to myself, but it doesn’t take long before I’m out like a light.

“Shelby!”my father yells from the living room as he slams the front door, waking me from the deep sleep I’ve fallen into. I cringe, knowing what’s coming next. I look at my window wondering if I have enough time to get out it before he makes his way into my room. The pounding on my bedroom door lets me know my time is running out. Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I leap from my bed, but before I can open the window he kicks in the door, splinters of wood flying into my room, pelting my back.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Dad bellows, stalking toward me. “Don’t think you’re getting out of what’s coming. I’ve been trying to catch you for three damn days.” It’s true. I’ve been avoiding my father at all costs. It’s been close to a week since he assaulted me last. I’m sure to some that would be a weird thing for me to say, but it’s been this way my whole life.

My father is an abusive drunk. My mother does her best to protect me, but she works two jobs to keep the bills paid and food in the house. She’s rarely at home, so it’s up to me to keep myself safe from him when he’s on a drunken tirade. I’ve fucked up today. I’ve made sure to leave every day before he gets home and, for the last week, to stay out every night until I’m sure he has passed out. I was just so tired today from lack of sleep that when I got home from school, I laid down on my bed to read my homework assignment and fell asleep.

My hands fly up to protect my head as he comes at me. He grabs me by my long blonde hair with his left hand, wrenching my head violently to the side. His right hand curled into a fist connects with my face, causing flashes of color before my eyes.The sight would actually be pretty if it weren’t accompanied by an almost unbearable pain in my cheek.

“You, fat, lazy cunt!” he yells as he punches me, repeatedly. “Why isn’t there any supper cooked for me? I’ve been out all day looking for work without any luck, and what have you done? Huh? Nothing that’s what!” His rancid alcohol breath chokes me as he goes on and on while he pounds out his anger on me. It isn’t my fault he can’t find work around here. He’s the one who gave himself a bad reputation by getting drunk on the job and getting into fist fights with his bosses. It’s a small town; word gets around. No one wants to put up with his sorry ass and the drama that follows in his wake.

Thankfully he’s too drunk to last very long at physical exertion, but long enough to leave me battered and bruised. Thinking he’s worn himself out, I take in a painful breath. He may have broken a rib or two this time. I wait for him to release me, but he doesn’t. Still gripping me by the hair he begins to drag me from my room. No! God, no! Not again!

“No, Daddy!” I plead. “Please don’t. I’ll cook, Daddy. I will.” He ignores my pleas as he drags me to the stairs. I know what he’s going to do, and it’s my worst nightmare. He’s going to chain me up in the basement, in the dark. It’s been months since he last managed to get me down there. He has a harder time fighting me since I’ve gotten older and much bigger.

I’m not a skinny girl by any means. Mom says it’s genetics as she’s on the heavier side herself. Personally I think it’s from all the stress we are both under living with a narcistic asshole. Stress hormones can cause weight gain, and mom and her side of the family use food as an expression of love. The combination has led to me being severely overweight. I can’t count the number of times mom has made me brownies, cookies, or a cake whenever daddy beats the shit out of her or me. It’s herway of making me feel better. It usually does, temporarily, but the extra weight just makes my life harder to endure.

Not only does Daddy berate me for my size, but the kids at school make fun of me, and I struggle to fit into the desks. I can’t find cute clothes like the thinner girls, so I have a harder time fitting in. I just want to fade into the background. Sometimes I think about running away, but I don’t know where I’d go. I’d tried once to escape to my grandmother’s home, my mom’s mom, but Daddy had come and gotten me. He’d threatened to hurt Nannie if she hid me again, so I haven’t tried that anymore.

On my darker days, I’ve contemplated suicide, but that would be letting him win. I REFUSE to let him win. So here I am at seventeen years old being dragged down into the dark, damp basement to be chained and left in the small cellar room, until Mom realizes I haven’t been to school or work. One time, I was here for almost a week and knocking on death’s door from lack of water before she found me. Thankfully we’d had a pipe leaking near where I had been chained. I’d managed to stay alive by licking water from the stone wall as it had dripped down from the pipe. I had been severely dehydrated when she found me, and I had spent three days in the hospital.

Mom had lied to the doctor, telling him I’d had a stomach bug for several days before she brought me in. The doctor had questioned the abraded skin on my wrists, but she’d told him I had a habit of leaving my ponytail holders on my wrists. It was a lame excuse, but since I didn’t counter her answers, the doctor didn’t ask any more questions. Mom and I have system, now. If she doesn’t see me between her shifts, she will text. If I don’t respond, she checks the basement.

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