Shattered (LOST #3)(54)

“SARAH?” IT WAS her dad’s voice, seeming to come from a distance away. “Sarah, you’ve got to see the surprise I’ve got for you.”

Part of Sarah knew that the scene wasn’t real. It wasn’t a nightmare, either, not really. It was a memory and she was trapped. Trapped . . .

Sarah glanced up toward the stop of the stairs. “I’m down here, Dad!”

She saw the burlap sack, waiting in the corner. Frowning, she moved closer to it.

“Sarah, you’re not supposed to be down here.”

She whirled around even as her heart raced in her chest. “Dad! You scared me.”

He didn’t smile at her. His dark eyes glinted. “I’ve told you before . . . you don’t need to be afraid. It’s the rest of the world—”

“—that has to be afraid.” He told her that line so many times. But it wasn’t like she was some big, bad beast. She was Sarah Jacobs, cheerleader wannabe. “Dad, I think a pipe broke and got your bag wet. That smell is terrible!”

He moved forward. “That’s one of your presents. Though I was going to show it to you later. After your friends left.”

Her present was in that stinky bag?

Her dad turned on another light and the bulb shone down on that bag. The bag wasn’t just wet. Those stains on it were so dark in color.

“I heard about the trouble you had at school.” His lips thinned. “Your counselor called me . . . told me all about that boy . . .”

Her cheeks burned. “It’s nothing, Dad. I can handle him.”

“He has a history of picking on other kids. Bullying them. He’s older, he should know better.”

“I can handle him,” she said again.

Her dad smiled. “You don’t have to.”

Then he opened the bag for her.

Sarah screamed because Ryan . . . Ryan Klein was in that bag! Ryan’s eyes were closed. His face was ashen, and his throat had been cut . . . from ear to ear. A macabre smile that split open his neck.

Her screams wouldn’t stop. Because Ryan couldn’t be in that bag. This couldn’t be happening! This couldn’t be real!

She slapped her hand over her mouth. The nausea and the fear were rising. Sarah couldn’t stop herself.

She vomited. Again and again.

Her father pulled back her hair. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Happy birthday.”

Sarah jerked away from him. She grabbed the bag. “Ryan? Ryan!” He . . . fell out.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “He’s just a boy, Daddy.” A boy who’d said something mean. Ryan was just a boy, and . . .

Sarah looked up at her father.

He was smiling at her.

Ryan was a boy, a dead boy, and her father was a monster.

A monster.

“NO!” SARAH JERKED up in bed, sweat covering her, her heart racing too fast in her chest. Her fingers had a death grip on the covers and—

She wasn’t alone.

It was dark in the room, but she heard the squeak of wood. He was there, coming from the bathroom, coming toward her.

“Bad dream?” Jax asked as he slid into the bed and pulled her close to him. He had to feel the frantic thud of her heartbeat. That beat seemed to be shaking her whole body.

“N-Not a dream,” she managed to say. Her eyes squeezed closed, but she could still see Ryan Klein’s face. She’d never been able to forget that sight. “I wish it had been.” Because dreams couldn’t hurt you. Reality could.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Sarah flinched. “No, don’t!” She tried to jerk away from him because . . . her dad had kissed her temple. After she’d found Ryan, he’d kissed her temple and thought that she’d understand why he’d killed the boy. Her father had thought that she’d be just like him.

“Sarah.” Jax said her name so softly. “Look at me, Sarah.”

She forced her eyes to open. He’d turned on the bedside lamp, and a warm pool of light spilled onto the bed.

“I’m here. Not anyone from your past. Me.”

He didn’t get it. Sometimes, she felt like her past was always with her, no matter where she went or what she did. Like a chain, dragging her back to hell.

“The past doesn’t matter.”

She shook her head. They both knew that was a lie. “You want LOST to find your family. They matter, Jax. Where we come from, where we’ve been, it always matters.” She looked into his eyes, knowing that he had to understand that truth.

“Do you think your past matters, even a little bit, to me?”

He sounded as if he meant those words. But he didn’t know all that she’d done. Not many did.

“What do you want from me?” Sarah asked him as she shook her head. Their attraction had been instant and undeniable. The sex between them was hot enough to incinerate but . . . what was Jax looking for? Why was he risking his life, protecting her? “Tell me,” she said, the words torn from her. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“Don’t you know it yet? I want everything.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have very much to give.” He should know that. The physical connection they had—that was more than she’d given to men in the past. She’d hooked up, but always slipped away before dawn. Always slipped away . . .