Zoey

Chapter 2: Forget Everything

After dropping Brody off with Finley, with the promise that I would see both of them later tonight, I’m now in my car on my way back home. I still have the top down and I’m savoring the feel of the wind on my skin. As I pull into the driveway I change my mind and pull back out, driving around to the servant driveway and parking back there. After I put my top back up I climb out and see a car I don't recognize. Hurrying into the house through the kitchen entrance I see the vehicles owner.

“Mahina! When did you get here?” I shout the words out before I’m even in lunging distance, hurrying to give the woman a hug.

“My God, Zoey, you’re all grown up! Look at that—you’re taller than me! I remember when you were five and proclaimed that you would never get to be as tall as me—that you’d be doomed to be short your whole life. Lord but you were an adorable child! So how are you doing? You look a little tired, but other then that you’re as beautiful as I always knew you would be.”

“I am tired—I was up late and out early. Apparently I did something to lessen Mother and Father’s image and they were on a rampage that I narrowly missed. Hey, Nalanie, has Zander been through here yet?”

The cook looks up from the fruits she is cutting up and placing in containers for snacking. “No, he hasn’t gotten home yet. He has soccer practice today I believe. Why? The two of you usually don’t hang out or anything.”

“Yes, well besides the fact that last year the entire school with the exception of my friends and maybe two of his had an epiphany and realized we were siblings we have very little in common. He doesn’t want to get mixed in with my reputation.”

“And what kind of reputation would that be, Zoey?” Mahina questions, one brow raised.

“Hey, I didn’t earn the reputation—it was bestowed upon me by someone in Zander’s crowd. But just so you know, a lot of the kids around school think I’m easy. Hell, I’ve only dated one guy my entire life. Sure, I hang out with a lot of guys, but that doesn’t make a person easy. It's because of one guy—the one I dated. He ruined the whole scene for me. We dated for about a year and he had me totally duped, thinking he loved me and everything so I slept with him. Well, he broke up with me and told the whole school how fast I was. And of course the girls believe it because they're jealous that I can hang out with the guys and not have to be all girly.”

“What do you do when you hang out with them?”

“Well, today I went to the beach with Finley and his friend Brody showed up later. But they aren’t your average guys, if you catch my drift. Most of the time I do what the guys do. I’ll help them work on cars, play video games, I go to the park and play ultimate Frisbee and basketball, football, you name it.”

“So you’re still a tom boy? I knew you’d never grow out of it. Are your parents treating you any better?”

“No—are you kidding? They hate me for some reason beyond me—I finally gave up on trying to make them happy.” I grab one of Nalanie’s containers—one full of watermelon balls—and dash out of her reach as takes up a spatula to smack me with. I laugh as she chases me around the kitchen as I open the container and eat a watermelon ball.

“Zoey, those are supposed to be for a fruit salad for your parents to take with them to the Tsuno’s!”

“Just tell them their good-for-nothing daughter ate them all. You can’t handle me any more then they can—just tell them that. I’ll take the fall—I’m going to get hell anyway.” This is my family—at least the one that I care about. The system of servants around the house and property—the gardeners, the chef (Nalanie), the maids, Mother and Father’s driver—all of these people raised me in some way and led me toward the correct path. If it had been up to my parents rearing, I would be dead or a runaway delinquent by now. I sit down at the table with Mahina and place the container of watermelon on the table, glancing over at Nalanie as I toss another piece in my mouth with my fingers. I’ll fill the container back up when I’m done, and she knows it. I would never do anything to endanger any of their jobs. Ever since what happened with Mahina I’m extra careful with what I say about or to my parent's employees. Mahina was my nanny when I was young, and she was around so much that I started calling her ‘Mahina-mama’ and I cried when I saw my parents—I had no idea who they were. So my mother fired Mahina, saying she was “turning me against my parents.”—as if that would take any work—and “just because she couldn’t have kids didn’t mean she was free to take other peoples.”

“So how long are you visiting Palos Verdes, Mahina?”

“I head back to Honolulu in two days. I came over here to visit some family, so of course I had to stop by here.” I smile at her and she stands up. “Well, I have to get going—I’m going out to eat with my sister and her family.”

“Didn’t she just have a baby?”

“Yeah, three months ago. You should visit her, you know. Well, I’ll see you later Zoey, Nalanie.” I give her another big hug and walk her to the door, watching her leave. After that I walk to the fridge and pull out the watermelon and replace what I ate.

“Nalanie, you said this was for my parents to take to the Tsunos, right?”

“Yeah—can’t stand those people.”

“Neither can I.” I spit on the watermelon and replace the lid.

“Zoey, you’re horrible.” Her smile gives her away and I know my special watermelon will be going with my parents.

“I’m going to go upstairs and clean my room—I told Lynette not to bother with it. Then I think I’ll take a nap. See you later, Nala.”

“See you Zoey,” the older woman waves me up the stairs.

I trudge up to my room and open the door. Sighing as I see that the room is more of a mess after my parents were in it than before, I get to work picking up my clothes and smelling them to see if they’re clean or if they need to be washed. I fold what smells okay and put the things that are questionable into the hamper. Once the floor is clear of the dirty clothes I turn to putting the clean clothes back where they belong. When that mess is done I straighten and leave my room in search of dusting spray which I find and return to my room to polish my furniture. When that is done I finish it off by Swiffering the hardwood floor. With that, my room is as clean as it will ever get and I flop down on the tangle of sheets and blankets that I call my bed to take a well deserved nap.

I’m awakened by my cell phone ringing, and I fall out of bed and crawl over to my desk to grab it.

“Hello?” I yawn into the mouthpiece.

“Zoey?”

“That’s my name—who is this?”

“This is Hogan—I’m calling to see if you still want to go to that party?”

I wake up the rest of the way. “Oh, yeah, of course! What time?”

“It starts at eleven—two hours from now. Where do you live?”

“Do you know where Rolling Hills is?”

“Yeah, I know the area—you live there?”

“Yes I do.”

“Wow! That place is—”

“I know. So why don't you just pick me up from the Starbucks on Crenshaw Boulevard—you know where that is?"

“I think so. I'll pick you up there at around eleven?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see ya.” I hang up and crawl back over to my bed. I still have an hour to rest. Before falling back to sleep I call Finley and fill him in on the meeting spot and time and he promises that he and Brody will be there. After that I set my alarm and doze off.

My alarm rings and I search the covers for my phone for a few minutes before coming up successful. I climb out of bed and walk over to my dresser, pulling out two boy beater tanks, a red with a lighter red pattern on it and a grey, a pair of Lucky jeans, and a brown leather belt. I take the clothes with me to my bathroom where I shower and clean all of the salt water out of my hair. When I get out I put on my underwear and dry my hair, tying a black silk scarf on like a headband to hold my bangs back, the ends trailing down to my shoulders from under my hair in the back. Then I throw the clothes that I picked out on and jog back into my room to find a pair of shoes. I come up with a pair of black and white striped kitten heels with red accent stitching and a red heel after ten minutes of looking. I pull the shoes on and grab a vintage red leather handbag that I got when I went to New York City, throwing my cell phone and wallet in and grabbing my keys out of the tray on my table. I jog down the stairs and out to my car, heading for Starbucks. When I get there, Finley and Brody are waiting already, sitting in Finley’s car. I park and get out, locking my car as I take a seat in the back of Finley’s Prius. Within two minutes, a Jeep Wrangler pulls into the parking lot and stops by my Mercedes. Hogan steps out of the car and I hop out of Finley’s car and rush over to him.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Sure—my friends are going to follow.” He nods and I jump into his Jeep and we’re on our way. About twenty minutes later we arrive out front of a house overflowing with people. After Hogan parks we go inside. I glance behind me to make sure Finley and Brody are coming and get a smile in return from Fin. Once inside, I lose sight of them in the teeming mass of bodies.

Music pounds from speakers in a large room—I guess the living room—that has been transformed into a dance floor. I pull Hogan into the swarm of flailing and grinding body parts and begin to dance with him. I keep it up for about two hours, losing sight of Hogan as partners switch every song or so. The whole while I have been downing drinks and I’m beginning to feel the effects of the liquor as I stumble a little off the ‘dance floor’. Somebody hands me another cup and I forget that I should be careful. I forget that I should never drink from my cup once I put it down. I’m having such a good time I forget everything. And just as I’m sure that I’ve even forgotten my name, I feel somebody put their arm around my shoulders and lead me out back. I follow like a docile puppy, my vision blurred. My mind throws names at me—Finley, Brody, Hogan—this arm has to belong to one of those people. So I go along and soon we reach…well, I’m not really sure. But I can’t hear the music anymore. Just as I look around and notice that nobody is around the arm across my shoulders lets loose and calloused hands push me to the ground.

“Hey! Wha tha hell are yuu doin?” An arm pins my wrists above my head and I feel a body on top of mine, tearing at my clothes, hurting me, violating me, scarring me. I scream for help and get some cloth shoved into my mouth. I struggle—I really do, but there’s only so much a person can do against someone twice their size, and me shit faced. I kick and scratch the hand that holds me with my nails. I fight with everything I have, but it’s no use. I have no control in this situation. He rips my shirt up over my face and I feel the buttons on my pants popping off. I cry and plead around the lump in my mouth. No use. No use. It’s no use, there’s no escaping. My mind numbs my body and then pushes out a side door. It’s like I’m watching this happen to somebody else—somebody that just looks like me. I feel nothing, I know nothing.

I only come back to my body when it’s all over—when the offending weight on top of me rolls off and disappears. My swollen wrist and hand reaches down and pulls my shirt down as best it can. It hurts. I touch my mouth and pull my hand away to see blood. I spit out the cloth in my mouth and see that it is a monogrammed handkerchief. Lifting my lower body up slow, I pull my panties back up, but I can’t deal with the pain that shoots through me when I try to pull my pants up as well. When I try to sit up I feel an intense shock go through me that knocks me back. The pain is too great. I look down to see several cuts across my body—my arms and chest and abdomen. I lay back and cry. Nobody will ever find me here—I don’t even know where I am. I just know that I need to keep this handkerchief in my hand and stay still. Sobs quake my battered bones and my wrist—I think it’s broken. My voice is hoarse from my attempts to scream through the handkerchief and comes out croaking when I wail my torture to the distant stars above. I drift into a catatonic state, my eyes glazed over, seeping salty tears and unblinking as they stare at the Phoenix constellation as it sets and then the sky turns colors and the horizon lights up.

After some amount of time that I don’t know and will never know, a face interrupts my view of the sky. I think I know this face, but my mind just isn’t working. Short graying hair falls around the face and inquiring brown eyes study me. They kneel down by me.

“Honey, what happened to you?” The woman reaches out and lightly runs a finger over my wrist and notices the disarray of my clothes. “I found something!” she shouts to someone…I can’t think, and I’m starting to feel my appendages again. She leans over me and takes hold of my shoulder to lift me. I try to struggle, but my abdomen, my very essence aches.

“Don’t touch me!” I try to be forceful, but it comes out as a cracking whisper as two other people, two men, come rushing in my direction.

“Oh, God!” one exclaims as they see me. I recognize him—Brother! No, that’s not right…

“Brody…brother…” He leans over me and reaches for my wrist, grazing his fingers over it.

“What was that, sweetheart? You stay still. Do you know who did this to you? I’ll beat the shit out of them if you do!”

“Right now we need an ambulance. Phil, go back up to the house and call an ambulance for her. Mark, stay calm.”

“Finley?” my voice cracks again, so the woman leans closer to me.

“No, my name is Kallista, sweetheart. Stay still, okay? You’ll be okay—we’re going to take you to the hospital and they’ll fix you up.”

“My stomach hurts—I can’t move. Can’t you make it go away? Why aren’t I stronger? Why wasn’t I stronger? Finley? Why couldn’t I fight back?” My body pushes my mind back out the side door and I go numb, looking in from the outside again, and yet still through my eyes. I’m detached from my physical self. Kallista reaches out and pulls my shirt up a little, getting a look of horror on her face as she sees the cuts, and for the first time she realizes the violence I survived—I can see it on her face.

“I’m sure you gave him hell, sweetie. You are strong—you’re still alive.” The one they called Mark says this. I close my eyes for the first time in what feels like days and slip away.

A pressure on my abdomen brings me back and I scream as best I can, my eyes bursting open to stare at a shocked paramedic. The guy tries to calm me, but I don’t want him touching me. Nobody is supposed to touch me. I try to tell them so—I don’t want them anywhere near me—except Finley and Brody. Where are they? A woman in the same uniform as the man crouches down by me.

“Honey, your friends aren’t here, but the people who found you are and are very worried about you. Now listen, we have to stop the bleeding and get you on a stretcher. We aren’t going to touch you in any way that won’t help you. Is that okay?” I whimper and try to turn my head to the side, but the woman stops me. “No honey, you can’t move. We don’t know where all you’re hurt.”

“How did they find me?” It takes me a while to get it out—my throat is raw.

“They said they were out for a walk, trying to find their dog. They found you instead. You’re a very lucky girl—very lucky to be alive.” They put a neck brace on me and splint my swollen wrist before transferring me to a stretcher.

“Honey, what’s your name? Who are your parents? Is there anyone we should call?” The voice echoes in my head and my vision swims.

“My parents are—going...t'kill me.”

“Honey I’m sure they’ll be glad you’re alive.”

“No they won’t. They would rather me be dead then have to deal with me. They hate me.” My vision gets blurred again and I feel them move my body. I scream and shortly after that I feel a needle prick my arm, and I slip away.

Author’s Notes: Hey, rough stuff. This is why it is rated R, just in case you haven’t figured that out. So...write reviews if you want, good or bad, just make it constructive criticism please.