Canary by Tijan
Carrie
Raize had two items to handle. One, we paid cash for another truck. Second, we went shopping for me.
Jake had bought everything Raize asked him to—food and supplies like toothpaste and toothbrushes, hand soap, towels, sleeping bags, blankets, a fan, the basics for staying at an empty house for a while.
But as far as purchasing clothes for me, he hadn’t done so great. He’d bought me a pair of socks.
So that’s how I found myself at the local Target with Raize carrying one of those hand-held baskets. I was in the dressing room, eyeing what he’d handed off to me.
I took the jeans, size four. I eyed the sweatshirts and tops he’d also handed me. “Why am I trying these on?” I asked him through the door. “These are just basic clothes that I can eyeball whether they’ll fit or not.”
“Can you fit them?”
“Yeah.” I tossed one of the pairs of jeans away, scooped up the rest, and went back out.
Raize stood as an older woman and a young girl came around the corner. “Oh!” The older woman looked like a young grandmother, her hair brushed back to reveal diamond earrings. The earrings got my attention first because they were classy. The granddaughter had the same blonde hair, same face and eyes. She wore a diamond necklace, and they both had their arms full of clothes. I was guessing the pink halter top wasn’t for the grandma.
Interest filled their eyes as they stared at Raize.
There was that reaction to him again. I didn’t understand it.
Raize’s gaze cooled, and I was hoping he wouldn’t call the grandma a skank cokewhore.
He stepped back, his hand went to the small of my back, and he murmured, “Excuse us.”
“Oh papacito!” The older woman made a show of fanning herself. The younger one giggled and sent me a look of approval.
He was a killer. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t they instinctively fear him? They should.
They were stupid. Ignorant.
Raize was dripping in so much blood, he had no soul anymore. I railed at them silently, screaming inside my head. Why couldn’t they feel that from him?
I stiffened, and Raize shot me a look, his hand pressing more firmly against my back. But neither of us said a word.
I walked briskly out of there, but not before pain sliced through me as a memory flashed before my eyes.
I was standing in a clothing store’s dressing room.
I was bored. I wanted to leave, but I had a book in my hand. I gripped that book tighter and tighter.
“What do you think, Friend?” She winked at me. Friend. It was our ‘code.’
The dressing room door swung open, and my sister came out, her hands on her hips, and struck a modeling pose—
No!
I would not let myself remember. If I did… I couldn’t.
Acid filled my mouth, but I swallowed it, shoving it down, down, so far down that I wondered how deep my tunnel went. Beyond my soul, beyond my body, all the way down into hell, that’s how far it went.
I moved left, following the aisle, but Raize shifted and pulled me into the underwear and bra section. We were alone.
He stepped in, crowding me with a hand on my hip, holding me in place. “What’s your problem?” His breath teased my neck and ear.
I couldn’t suppress a shiver, but he didn’t move back, and I didn’t step away. “Nothing.”
He pulled me against him, my side pressed to his chest. His fingers held my chin, and he angled his head to inspect my face. “What just happened in your head?”
“Nothing.”
He knew I was lying. My mouth was so tight, my teeth were grinding so hard that my entire face hurt.
“Stop.” He nodded to my mouth. “That’ll give you a migraine.”
“Like you care.” I snorted before I could stop myself.
Raize released me, stepping away. “No, but you will when you’re doubled over, puking in the bathroom. You’ll be vulnerable when Cavers might be around.”
God. I gritted my teeth again.
He drenched me in boiling water with that reminder. Never be vulnerable. I’d forgotten. At some point, with Jake asking me personal questions and Raize acting like he gave a damn—I’d started to soften. I could never do that either.
I was like that grandma and her granddaughter. I was being stupid, reckless, forgetting who Raize really was.
I pulled away, and knowing he’d steered me here because these were the last items we needed, I reached out and grabbed whatever was hanging in front of me. A pack of underwear, two sports bras. Some socks. We were good to go now. In the basket were two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a sweatshirt, and now my underclothes.
Raize was still studying me, but when was he not?
He nodded and started for the front of the store.
I followed, not saying a word.
He took one detour, putting a pair of sneakers and sandals into the basket, and then we went to check out. Once everything was rung up, Raize pulled out cash to pay. He paused, reaching out to snag a pair of sunglasses. He added that to the pile.
Raize handed all of the bags to me, walking ahead of me once again.
I frowned, staring at the sunglasses. He’d added those for me, and I looked up as he pulled his own out and slipped them on his face.
“What do you think, sis?”
I rocked backward, the memory picking back up.
I couldn’t shove it down, and I was helpless to stop as it played out in my mind.
I looked up, seeing my sister in jeans that were skintight and a top that wasn’t a top. It was a bikini. She grinned at me, wiggling her hips as she did a slow circle. The tattoo was new on her side, so it was still bandaged.
I hated seeing that tattoo. It was his claim on her, like she was his property.
But before I could tell my sister she looked beautiful, because she always did—she was popular for a reason at school—he spoke up. “Those pants make you look fat. Pick something else.”
My sister’s smile fell flat and she swallowed. “Right.” She hung her head and went back into the dressing room. The door shut quietly, a slow click, and I hated that almost as much as I hated him. My sister never shut a door slowly, carefully. She rushed through life with a zest that was annoying at times. She was a force.
The way that door shut? There was no force there.
He was taking that from her.
I didn’t let myself look at him. If I did, I was going to smack him in the head with my book, and I wouldn’t stop.
A tear slid down my face as the parking lot swam into focus.
I should’ve looked at my sister’s boyfriend. I should’ve smacked him with the book, and I should’ve kept going until he was dead.
I hadn’t wanted to go to jail.
What a silly notion now.
