The Illusion of Annabella Page 6

  “Want to do something?” Miller asks, playing with the hem of my shirt.

  I know what he wants from me, but I still can’t seem to give it to him.

  I bob my head up and down. “Yeah, let’s go somewhere . . . Do something . . . Live a little . . .”

  “But it’s raining outside.”

  “So what?” I sit up and rub my eyes. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

  Liar. Rain can do a lot of damage.

  Miller unenthusiastically looks at the window. “Actually, if you’re down for a little adventure, I might know of something we could do. You’d have to be up for anything, though. And I mean anything, Anna. None of that girly bullshit where you back out when things get sketchy. ”

  I’ve spent enough time with Miller to understand what the look in his eyes means. He wants to get into trouble, walk the line of danger. The old Anna, the good girl her parents raised, the one who worshipped her mother, would’ve run away.

  Lightning zaps across the sky, thunder grumbles, and the rain suddenly picks up, as thick as the day of the accident. The day seemed so sunny, everything so crystal clear, until the rain came and washed that life away in an instant.

  “Let’s go then.” Lightheaded and dizzy, I stagger to my feet.

  Miller places a hand on my arm to steady me. “Wait. Don’t you want to hear what we’re doing?”

  I weave around the dirty clothes on the floor. “I really don’t care.” All I know is that I want the fading numbness to return to my body, and I’ll do just about anything to get it back.

  He grins as he tosses me a hoodie. “All right. I like this side of you. Dangerous Anna,” he ponders as he taps his finger against his lips. “It has a nice ring to it.

  “It does?” I lean against the doorframe while I put the jacket on.

  “Yeah, sure.” He grins, meeting my gaze. “Let’s go.”

  On our way out, Miller grabs his car keys from the coffee table and tells Big Jay we’ll be back later. He offers me the rest of his drink before we head out, and even though I already feel woozy, I guzzle it down.

  Outside, rain puddles the pavement, the sky is darker than it was when I walked here, and the temperature has plummeted. I draw my hoodie up and move as quickly as I can toward Miller’s truck that has more rust than paint. He jogs ahead of me, his boots splashing through the puddles, and opens the door.

  I heave myself inside, close the door, then watch the rain stream down the windshield. Memories surface—the sound of metal crushing, screams, my dad looking at me as if waiting for me to tell him the truth. My gut clenches. I should have just told him.

  “You ready for this?” Miller asks as he slams the door.

  I jerk from the memories, craving whatever break lies ahead. “Yep. I’m ready for anything.”

  Miller chats on his phone with one of his buddies for half the drive, and I only pick up on fragments of his conversation. He keeps mentioning a house on Fairfield Lane, a street on the richer, more lavish side of town.

  “So, you know the other day when Big Jay and I were talking about trying to find a way to get some extra cash,” Miller says after he hangs up. “You remember Jeremy, right?” he asks, and I nod, even though I don’t. “He found out about this house on Fairfield that’s been vacant for, like, a month.”

  “So no one lives there?”

  “No, someone lives there. They’ve just been gone for a month. And they don’t even have an alarm system.” He snickers. “What a bunch of stupid fucks. Seriously.”

  I scrape at my black fingernail polish, pretending to be more blasé that I really am. “Are you planning to break in or something?”

  He flashes me a devious grin. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

  Even though I don’t like that I do, I start to grow worried. I don’t know how he got the information, but what I do know is that Miller is currently on probation for breaking and entering.

  Is that what’s going to end up happening to me? Do I care? What do I care about anymore? I vibrate with anger. How am I supposed to be the Dangerous Annabella I’m pretending to be with all these thoughts in my head?

  Shoving the thoughts from my head, I look out the window as Miller makes a turn down Fairfield Lane.

  Extravagant two and three story homes border the quiet street lined with cherry blossom trees, and the grey sky casts shadows across the perfectly landscaped yards. The scene is almost too perfect. Like I know all too well, though, nothing is perfect, and I quickly spot the flaw—the murky streams flowing through the gutters.

  I glance up at the cloudy sky as uneasiness seeps into my bones. “It’s not even dark yet. People might see us.”

  “It’ll look more suspicious if we show up at night,” he replies as he turns into a paved driveway that leads to a brick mansion.

  He parks in front of the garage and shuts off the engine. The rain has turned the yard and sidewalks into a giant puddle, completely ruining everything in its path.

  Maybe that’s where I’m headed. Perhaps I’m becoming as destructive as the rain, ruining my life, my family’s life.

  “Your truck kind of stands out,” I say, anxiously glancing at all the expensive cars parked in the nearby driveways.

  “As long as we pretend like we belong here, we’ll be fine. Besides, it’s raining so goddamn hard, you can barely see.” He rotates in the seat, raking his fingers through his blue hair. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. I know you said you were up for anything, but you always say that, and sometimes I can tell you don’t mean it.”

  His words piss me off. I don’t like that he’s right. That he can see that side of me. See the good girl I used to be.

  I’m not her anymore! I can’t be!

  All riled up, I stretch my arm toward the door handle. Grinning, Miller hops out into the rain as the sky booms and the rain quickens. Ignoring my mother’s voice inside my head, telling me this is wrong, I follow Miller up the driveway, staggering from left to right as the liquid concoction I drank earlier sloshes around in my brain.

  Squeezing between the garage and the house, we sneak around to the back door. Miller jiggles the doorknob, but it’s locked.

  “Stand back,” he says as he shucks off his jacket and wraps it around his fist.

  I briefly contemplate running away, just disappearing into the rain. Push through the pain and run across the grass, keep going until my limbs ache and give out on me. But then Miller’s fist slams through the window, and my chance at backing out shatters like the glass.

  Shooting me an excited look from over his shoulder, he snakes his arm through the broken window, flips the lock, and pushes open the door. I hold my breath, waiting for an alarm to go off. When it doesn’t, I’m disappointed, but fear backing out. What does that say about me if I back out? How will Miller see me? Will he still want to be with me? If I don’t have him to hang around with, then what does that leave me? With nowhere to escape to anymore.

  We enter the house, stepping into a massive kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. My head swirls with confusion as we wander into the home. I lose track of time the deeper we go, the alcohol I drank blurring my mind even more. I can’t figure out who I am. How I got here. How to get out or if I even want to. It’s not like I actually need to steal anything. Still, I pick up a crystal swan figurine off one of the shelves, stuff it into my pocket, then head through the foyer and up the winding staircase, like a lost little girl drifting through a meaningless life with no direction.

  Hanging on the wall on the second floor is a large portrait of a family of four sitting on a beach, smiling in the sunshine. They all look so happy. There’s a similar picture of my family back at my house. We appear happy. Do they realize life isn’t all sunshine?

  As some of the numbness evaporates from my body, anger ignites like thunder and lightning. Trembling with rage, I snatch the picture from the wall and chuck it as hard as I can at the bottom of the stairway. Gl
ass shatters all over the marble floor like raindrops. I want to forget about all of it. The lies. The pain. The anger I always feel toward her. Why can’t I just forget?

  Miller runs back to the stairs, panting heavily and looking scared out of his damn mind. “What the hell was that?”

  “A picture fell off the wall,” I lie, gripping onto the banister as I battle to calm the fuck down.

  Miller glances from me to the broken picture at bottom of the stairs and opens his mouth to say something. But the sound of sirens cuts him off.

  “Shit. We have to go.” He pushes by me, bumping me into the wall, and sprints down the stairway.

  “I can’t move that fast,” I hiss in a panic, dragging my leg along with me like the useless limb it is.

  By the time I’ve made it two steps down the stairway, he’s already to the foyer.

  He skids to a halt in front of the door, his gaze darting between the flashing lights out the window and me. “I’m sorry,” he says in a panic, then takes off, leaving me to fend for myself.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am, as if I’ve regressed back into that naïve girl who believed that pots of gold really are at the end of rainbows—that all people are good. That danced around her room and dreamt of kissing her crush at her birthday party.

  Having no other choice, I pick up the pace, but by the time I make it to the bottom of the stairs, the front door swings opens.

  With the wind howling behind him, an officer barrels inside with a gun in his hand and his eyes locked on me. “Put your hands up,” he orders.

  I do what he says and put my hands in the air. I wait to be cuffed, knowing I should be afraid—that that’s how I’m supposed to feel. But through the alcohol still swimming in my veins, I can’t feel the fear.

  Can’t feel anything at all.

  Chapter Five

  No More Tears

  Miller got caught anyway, and we both end up being hauled down the driveway by officers.

  Hands cuffed behind his back and jeans covered in mud, he’s forced toward one of the three police cars parked out front. Neighbors have gathered to watch the scene. I wonder if any of them know me, if they’ve ever seen me in town at holiday gatherings in the park.

  “I’m so sorry, Anna. I just didn’t know what to do,” Miller pleads with me as an officer guides him into the backseat.

  I concentrate on the raindrops streaming down the glass until the officer drives toward town. I know I’m in a ton of trouble, way more than I ever have been.

  I spend the next two hours trying to figure out how I feel about what happened. I want to feel indifferent, but under the sea of numbness, I still care that I’m ruining what’s left of my life and putting more stress on Loki. He’s always been a great big brother and like my father, he doesn’t deserve to be treated like crap.

  When Loki shows up at the police station to pick me up, he’s wavering between disappointment and anger. He hardly says more than three words during the drive home and only acknowledges my existence when he parks the truck and shuts the headlights off.

  His jaw is set tight as he strangles the steering wheel. “I have no idea what the heck to say to you,” he says quietly.

  “Me either,” I mumble as I stare up at the stars. Oddly enough, after all the rain, the night sky is crystal clear, the calm after the storm.

  If only that were true in life.

  He scowls at me. “Do you realize how much trouble you’re in? God, you’re going to have to go to court, and since this isn’t you’re first time getting into trouble, they’re not going to go easy on you.” He shakes his head, puffing out a frustrated breath. “You’re grounded.”

  “Okay.” My simple response seems to rile him up more, which wasn’t my intention.

  “I’m being serious. No going out unless it’s to therapy. And no more hanging out with Miller.” He grits his teeth. “I know he played a huge part in this, even if you won’t admit it.”

  I bite my tongue until I taste blood, but silence has nothing to do with Miller. I’m not even sure how I feel about him now. Never really did. He was supposed to be an escape from my life, the opposite of the kind, caring boys that I used to want to spend time with. I knew who he was when I met him, that chivalry wasn’t his thing. When he bailed to save his own ass, he was only being himself, which is more than I can say about me.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” Loki asks, growing even more frustrated when my lips remained fused. I want to say something, but I can’t figure out what the right thing is. Right and wrong? Do I even know the difference anymore? “Goddammit. I can’t take this anymore.” Jerking the keys out of the ignition, he shoves open the door.

  I feel bad for upsetting him, but I also feel so hollow. Empty. Dead inside, rotting like corpse.

  I silently wait for him to get out of the car. Knowing Loki, he’ll storm into the house and lock himself in his room until he cools off. Maybe by tomorrow, I can figure out something to say.

  But he pauses before getting out, throwing me for a loop.

  “I hate to say this, because I know how much it hurts you when I bring up Mom and Dad,” he mutters with his back to me, “but they’d be so disappointed in you.” His final words before he storms into the house.

  Sorrow, rage, remorse, and so much more clips through my shield of numbness, and pain engulfs me. He’s right. If my parents were alive, they’d be so disappointed in me, and as much as I hate that it does, their opinion matters a lot—even my mom’s.

  No longer wanting to feel the aching sadness, I punch the side of my leg until the muscles are sore, until physical pain overpowers the emotional pain. Then I get out of the car and drag my leg behind me as I head up the driveway.

  As I near the back door, a muffled voice catches my attention. It’s past midnight and the rest of the neighborhood is fast asleep. More curious than I want to be, I grip onto the railing and crane my neck to peer into the new neighbor’s yard.

  Someone is sitting on the porch beneath the deck light, talking on the phone. The voice is low, baritone, and doesn’t belong to Tammy or Luca.

  “Look, you can’t call here anymore,” he says in a low tone. “I know. I know. But that was the deal—that’s why we moved here.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and lowers his head. “Fine. I’ll send you more money, but I have to go now. Please don’t call here anymore.”

  He hangs up and stares at the road with his phone clutched in his hands. Moments later, his body starts to shake as he sobs.

  About two months ago, I caught Loki doing something similar. It was late at night and I was trying to sneak out of the house when I saw Loki crying on the back deck. He didn’t know I was standing in the shadows, spying on him. I haven’t really cried since the accident and seeing Loki so openly emotional like that made me uncomfortable, more with myself than anything, because I can’t seem to cry anymore, let myself feel the pain. It’s been so long since I let it all out that I wonder if maybe my tears are broken.

  I figured he was crying over our parents, but I found out the next morning that his girlfriend of three years dumped him, said she couldn’t handle his new, complicated life.

  “What a bitch,” Alexis growled when Loki told us Camila would no longer be coming around.

  “I’m so sorry.” Zhara gave him a big hug.

  Even Nikoli offered a few words. “I didn’t like her that much, anyway.”

  Even though I witnessed his pain, I said nothing. I felt bad for him and the old Anna would have opened her heart and tried to console him. But this Anna, the one rotting away in her life with one good leg and a bunch of lies, couldn’t figure out how to do that without falling apart, too.

  When the neighbor’s crying fades, I go inside, forcing myself to forget what I heard and saw.

  Chapter Six

  Invisible Girl

  Ever since the accident, whenever I wake up, I can’t remember anything I dreamt. Sometimes I wonder where my mind goes
when my eyelids lower, especially because Zhara insists that I scream almost every night. Sometimes I wonder if I relive the accident or maybe I dream of perfect first kisses and dancing on stage, stuff that can’t carry a spot in my life anymore.

  I spend the next two days and nights lounging in bed, stirring in my own filth and dreaming of nothing. I reek of dirty sweat, my hair is matted to my forehead, and my leg hurts more than it usually does.

  On Tuesday, Loki forces me to get out of bed and go to school. Not bothering to take a shower, I brush my hair into a messy bun, pull on a hoodie, and go out to the kitchen where I pop two pain pills before heading to truck where the rest of the Baker clan is waiting impatiently for me.