Page 17 of Tied

Next to me, Zac orders a bagel and coffee, then turns to me. “Well?” he prods, gently breaking into my thoughts.

He came down this weekend just to see me. I appreciate his effort. I know it’s a hassle for him to visit me since he lives in thecity, but it breaks the monotony of my days. Usually he takes me out of Merryfield and Anna joins us and, for a few hours, I feel like a normal person and less of a freak. Zac always tries hard to treat me like I’m just his sister and not some kind of victim. He’s never condescending, never full of pity, and he never acts like he’s in a rush to get away from me. He was even nice enough to hang my Christmas tree photographs on the wall next to my bed this morning so I can look at them every day.

“Um…” I look at him for help while the young guy behind the counter waits with a bored expression on his face. Behind us, the line is getting restless. The pressure becomes even more unbearable, but Zac seems unconcerned, and I’m grateful for his patience. Decisions aren’t easy for me. For years, all I was given was bread, water, dry cereal, Fruit Roll-Ups, little boxes of juice, trail mix, and an occasional apple, cookie, or cupcake used as a bribe.

“Do you want the cupcake? Be a good girl, then. Bend over and don’t scream or fight and I’ll let you have the cupcake.”

I’m ashamed to admit that, some days, I wanted that cupcake so bad that I bent over and bit my tongue until it bled to keep from screaming as he touched me. I always regretted it later, when the sweet icing was burning in my stomach, the appeal of the treat long gone.

“Holly?”

I shake my head and force out a breath. Those memories always sicken me, but no one needs to hear them. No one needs to know how they continue to torment me. The bad man is dead, and I have my prince to thank—if I can ever find him.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I apologize a lot because it makes everything feel better, like saying everything is “great.” I recite what Feather always gets for me. “A blueberry muffin and a vanilla latte withskim milk.” I have no idea if I like anything else, and I’m embarrassed to ask him to describe everything on the menu to me.

“Okay.” Zac grins, his left dimple making an appearance. “Why don’t you go grab us a table, and I’ll bring it over.”

Nodding, I head for a small table by the windows, avoiding eye contact with the other customers, and settle into one of the wooden chairs to wait for Zac.

“You should talk to someone about that,” a female voice says, and I turn to see a girl at the next table pointing at my arm. “I used to cut and burn, too. You can get help. Self-harm isn’t the answer.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I pull my sweater sleeves down to my palms and push my hair back over my shoulder. “Thank you,” I say as politely as I can. “But I didn’t do it to myself.”

With wide eyes, she shakes her head, sending her short, black bob bouncing around her shoulders. “Girl, that’s even worse. Don’t let some asshole hurt you. I been there, too.”

Zac sets the tray of food in front of me, looking from me to the girl as if he’s waiting for an introduction.

“Didhedo that to you?” The girl shoots him a look that could melt ice.

“Do what?” Zac asks, his brow creasing.

“Put them cigarette burn marks all over her arms. That’s what.”

The look of surprise and hurt on his handsome face makes my chest hurt, and I struggle to breathe. I want to run to the car, to my backpack in the back seat of Zac’s car. He always lets me bring it if he takes me somewhere as long as I leave it in the car.

“No,” I reply. “He’s my brother. He would never hurt me.”

“What’s going on?” Zac demands, his defenses rising.

“Nothing, Zac.” I glance back at the girl, wishing she would just go away and mind her own business. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

Her eyebrow rises. “You sure about that?”

The couple at the table next to us lean close to each other, their eyes darting over at us as they whisper. About me, most likely.

“Yes, I’m positive. Thank you.” I force my millionth fake smile.

Suddenly her face changes, going from suspicion to shock to pity. “Holy shit.” She lowers her voice to an excited whisper. “You’re that girl who was found in the hole out in the woods, aren’t you? You’re little Holly Daniels. I read about you.”

I meet her eyes and put on my best look of defiant confidence. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”There. I did it. I deflected her. I don’t owe anyone anything.I focus all my attention on removing the paper from my muffin as she gets up and walks away, mumbling to herself about assholes and denial.

“What was that all about?” Zac still looks confused.

I shrug, wanting to move on and not make this outing any more uncomfortable than it already is. Since I was found, my family has had to deal with this kind of attention from random, nosy people in both public and private ways. I was mostly shielded from it, being at Merryfield, and I wonder if that’s part of the reason my parents sent me there. Not just for the therapy, but to also hide me away.

“She saw the burn scars on my arms and thought I was hurting myself or had a boyfriend that was hurting me, I guess.” I sigh. “Then she recognized me.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head. “People just don’t know boundaries sometimes.”

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