Tabula Rasa(24)

“I... yes, I saw the tags in the clothes I wore there.” At the park.

“Good.” He indicated the chair. “Fill some shopping carts.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Well you aren’t wearing my clothes. And you aren’t going naked. What were you planning to wear?”

I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t thought about much of anything. It was all too hard and overwhelming. It would have been bad enough trying to reintegrate into the world and get my life back if Trevor had held me captive like he had with my memories intact. But without anything solid to rely on, it was even worse. I was just surviving minute to minute and trying desperately not to think about anything, trying to make the inside of my mind as empty and silent as my surroundings had been most of the trip with Shannon.

Maybe I’d been lying to myself about going crazy from the silence. I was really going crazy from how relieved I was to have it. Running water and silence. The motherf*cking lottery.

“Shop.” He sat in a chair next to mine so he could watch me. I barely had time to marvel at the continued existence of the Internet.

“I-I don’t know what to get or how much. How will I pay you back?”

“I don’t need you to pay me back. I need you to look like a normal person in my house and not a kidnap victim. Decide on a new hair color and style also. I’ve got to get stuff for that. And we’ll get you colored contacts. No high heels. Every picture they showed of you on the news was in something nice enough to wear heels. People probably imagine you a little taller than you are. Flats only.”

I looked through the sites he’d picked out. It was all nice stuff. “So I’m going to leave the house and see other people?” I asked.

“At some point.”

“You aren’t worried I’ll say something? I thought that was the whole reason you didn’t give me a choice about coming with you?”

“I said you couldn’t be free range. I didn’t say you’d never see other people. You saw what happened at the castle. Do I seem in any way traumatized by it?”

I shook my head. I’d tried and failed multiple times during the trip to his house to not think about how matter-of-factly Trevor’s killing and disposal had been carried out.

“I don’t mind a body count. Don’t put me in a situation to make one or to make you part of it, and you have nothing to worry about. Deal?”

Sure. Nothing to worry about. But I nodded quickly and went back to looking at the sites.

Something else occurred to me suddenly. The ever-looming feminine protection quandary. “I... I need some... some toiletries,” I mumbled. That was the most tactful way I could put it.

Shannon studied me for a moment. “You mean tampons.” Off my shocked expression he said, “Don’t look so surprised. I was raised by a woman, not by wolves. My dad went on a lot of tampon runs when I was growing up. I’ll take care of it. Just write down anything that will help me out in that department. They have a lot of options out there—probably a lot more now than when I was a kid.” He opened a drawer and took out a notepad and pen and put it beside me on the desk.

“Thank you.” I was so ridiculously grateful that not only had I not had to explain to him what I meant, but that he hadn’t made me feel awkward or dirty. It was so strange—yet in hindsight made so much weird sense—that I’d hidden the entire thing from Trevor, unwilling to bring it up under almost any circumstance, yet, I’d somehow been able to tell Shannon, however subtly. Why did I trust this guy when there seemed no rational reason for me to?

“Shannon?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me home with you? Why didn’t you just kill me back there?” Probably not the best question to ask a guy like this, but I had to know what had been going through his head. Why not just keep things neat and tidy if he didn’t mind such ugliness?

“I don’t know.”

It was a far less comforting answer than I’d been hoping for. I had a feeling that the amount of emotion and empathy I’d seen on his face when he’d discovered me with Trevor was about the most he’d ever shown. Somehow, despite knowing he’d been traveling with others that night, I imagined him as a person who lived completely alone.

But I was wrong about that. A fluffy white cat sauntered into the room. She jumped up on Shannon’s lap and started to purr, giving me a disdainful glare as if to say, Bitch, no way am I sharing him with you. I worried the cat might scratch my eyes out while I slept.

“What’s her name?”

Shannon just stared at me for a moment, completely baffled. “She doesn’t have one.”

“How can you have a cat without a name? Is she new?”

“No.” He stroked the back of her neck, and she pressed harder against his hand. “I’ve had her for a long time.”

“How old is she?”

“I don’t know. We could cut her open and count the rings.”

I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

I couldn’t believe it didn’t occur to him just how f*cking weird it was to have a pet in your house that you chose not to give a name to.

“If she doesn’t have a name, then what do you call her?”

“I don’t need to call her anything. She comes to me on her own when she’s ready. We communicate just fine. She doesn’t have a name for me.” The words were almost defensive, but he didn’t sound defensive when he delivered them. It was more like he was just rattling off a list of logical facts that should be obvious to any thinking person.