Page 93 of Riot House
“Take it up with your chief. We have our own way of doing things, Berger, and we have our own police. We've investigated the scene and deemed Mrs. Stillwater's death an accident, as a result of an unfortunate fall. You understand, Colonel Stillwater's a very well-respected man. There's no way he would have laid a finger on his wife.”
Aimée's mouth works. She can't seem to find the words she's looking for. “Your precious Colonel Stillwater raped his own daughter! What kind of man doesthat?”
“Not the kind that commands thousands in the U.S. military, Detective Berger. I'd be very careful if I were you. Repeating slanderous accusations like that can have dire consequences.”
The sergeant's hand closes around the top of my arm. He pulls me out of Aimée's grip. She reaches for me, grabbing, but it's no good. I was already far beyond her reach before these guys even showed up. She just didn't know it yet.
I don't know what happens next. The world begins to shrink in on itself, darkening around the edges. The next thing I know, I'm falling forward, legs collapsing beneath me, and the ground is rushing up to meet me.
34
ELODIE
I sawthat police report once. It was very detailed. Incensed by the way the army handled my mother's death, Detective Aimée Berger petitioned the Israeli government to try and pursue the criminal case in-country, but the whole thing turned into a political nightmare. Her hands were tied, and so she could do nothing but sit by and watch as the military swept the entire thing under the rug. My father was exonerated of any wrongdoing, I never received that rape kit, and my mother was buried without ceremony in the back of a Jewish cemetery, even though she was Catholic, in a country that had never felt like a home to her. I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral, and my father sure as hell didn't go.
I do my best not to remember any of this. Remembering only makes things more difficult. But Wren's sitting next to me, holding my gaze with steady green eyes, and he has questions. I resent that he's dredging this up. Most of all, I hate that this whole time, the guy I'm insanely attracted to has known this horrible, dirty, dark, evil secret about me that no one in the world should know.
“I thought the army police had that report destroyed,” I say. “They made sure to have all record of it expunged from the Tel Aviv police force's database. I know that for sure.”
Wren nods, picking at his fingernails; he attacks the very last chip of black nail polish that he's been wearing since the first night I met him, finally taking care of it once and for all. “They kept a copy on their own system,” he says.
“I see.”
“I can't believe they sent you back there to live with that piece of shit,” he says.
“Well. I was fourteen. And they'd decided he did nothing wrong, so where else were they going to send me?”
“What about your grandparents? Your mom's parents? Couldn't they have taken you?”
This is so futile. What good is trying to retroactively figure out a better alternative now, three years after the fact? It's all long done and dusted. “My grandfather was already dead. My grandmother had Alzheimer's. She never really understood that my mom had died. I went back to live with my father and that was all there was to it.”
“It's just so...” He flares his nostrils, his hands curling into fists. He looks like he wants to hit something really fucking hard. “Did he ever touch you again?” he growls.
“No! No, god. No. It was only that once. He never did it again. I think he was high on something when...the day that happened.”
“I've had bad trips before, and I've never raped anyone, Little E. I've never fucking killed anyone. And even if that were the case, he would have come down the next morning. What possible reason could he have had for keeping you in that fucking box for five days?”
Going back into those memories means going back into that box, and I just...I can't fucking do that. Slowly, I get up and move to the window. The sun's shining brightly outside, and everything is so green. The spring-like day contrasts so starkly with the grey, oppressive cloud that's descended over me that none of what I see on the other side of the glass feels real. “I don't know. We never spoke about it after that day. I knew that I'd wind up dead if I brought it up, and my father seemed content to pretend like nothing had even happened, so I just did what I needed to survive. He started training me into the ground after that. Every single day, he put me through the mostbrutaltraining. I couldn’t understand it at first. But then I began to see the self-loathing in his eyes. He wanted me to be able to protect myself. From him. I thinkhealways worried that…that he might do it again.”
I suck in a gasping breath, but it doesn’t help. I still feel dizzy, like I’m going to throw up. “Escaping Tel Aviv, being sent here to New Hampshire? I pretended to myself like it was an inconvenience and I resented being dragged away from my friends, but honestly...it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It might not be the healthiest coping mechanism in the world, but I want to forget that time of my life. All of it. Every single last day. So, please...I don't want to talk about it anymore. I can't. It won't help, and—”
His arms wrap around me from behind. He holds me tightly, nestling his face into the crook of my neck. “Shhh. Shhh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry. Shhh, please don't cry.”
I hadn't even realized that I was crying, but I am—desperate sobs punctuated with hiccuping gasps that echo around the hotel room. I used to lock myself in the bathroom at school during my lunch break and cry like this from time to time. I couldn't do it at home. Since he didn't have my mother to beat black and blue anymore, Colonel Stillwater had felt justified in laying into me during our morning gym sessions. Crying would have earned me the hiding of a lifetime.
“I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry,” Wren chants into my hair. “I'm sorry I brought it up. I hate that I’ve made you feel this way, I swear to fucking god.”
“Then...why bring it up at all?” I pant.
Wren sighs heavily, the sound pure frustration. He turns me around so that I'm facing him, holding my face in his hands. He makes me meet his fierce gaze. “You've been through so fucking much, and you've done it all on your own. I wanted you to know that you aren't on your own now. And I want you to know that it's been taken care of. You don't need to worry about him anymore, Elodie. He's never going to be able to hurt you again.”
“You don't know that. You can't say that. I still have months before I'm free of him, Wren.Youmight already be eighteen, but I have to wait until June.”
He shakes his head. “Calm down, E. It's okay. I swear to you. It's been taken care of.”
There's atoneto his voice. He says, 'It's been taken care of,'but he's saying something else as well. He's saying that he's done something, he's somehow taken care of my father, and he won't be able to hurt me again. A knot of panic rises in my throat. “Oh my god. What did you do, Wren?” I ask carefully.
“You knew I was a monster when you met me, Elodie. I've changed so much about myself for you because I want to be goodfor you. But thereareparts of me that won't be denied, E. That bastard was a dead man walking the moment I knew how you felt. Once I saw my own feelings reflected in your eyes, I couldn’t allow him to get away with what he did.”
