No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1) Read online

  “It’s becoming too hard to keep this wing of the hospital press-free. It’s only a matter of time before someone shows up in your doorway, snapping pictures,” Shea says.

  “No!” I gasp. “Oh, god, no!”

  “I’ve got it handled,” Shea says with a small smile. “It’s what I do. No one will see you leave tonight.”

  “Worry about healing, Mia,” Chris says. “We’ll worry about the rest.”

  I don’t feel assured. I look towards the door, hoping to see Dom and Kiesha outside. They aren’t there. I pull my knees to my chest again.

  “Chris … about Robert ...” Just saying the name makes me want to vomit.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asks.

  “I can’t remember.”

  “It’s okay, Mia. We’ll get through this. Focus on resting, okay?”

  “We’ll see you later, Mia,” Shea says.

  They leave. Chris almost seemed truly supportive, though Shea was more interested in bad publicity. Somehow, I feel worse.

  “These taste better than they look,” Robin says, indicating the two small cheeseburger sliders on the plate.

  “I’m too tired to eat,” I say. “Are Kiesha and Dom coming back?”

  “I don’t think so. Your father’s … people have closed down this floor.”

  I take the glass of water and sip it then gaze around at the hospital room. I can’t sleep here. I feel exposed. Maybe I can sleep in the bathroom.

  “I can stay until you fall asleep,” Robin offers.

  “Okay,” I reply.

  “You’ll get to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

  “Yeah.” Maybe Ari will spend the night at my place. I settle onto my left side, the only position that doesn’t cause me pain.

  “Mia, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did your daddy tell you that raped women can’t get pregnant?”

  Surprised, I sit up so I can see her with my good eye. Robin is frowning.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll let you rest. I should’ve have asked you that. Do you need a pain pill before you go to sleep?”

  I’m concerned but exhausted. I nod. My head, eye and ankle are all throbbing. Robin brings me one. I take it then I lay back down, but I can’t help wondering what’s bothering her. The painkillers knock me out before I can give it too much thought.

  Chapter Four

  Just past midnight, I escape the hospital into the back of one of Daddy’s cars. I don’t lower the hood on my sweatshirt until I’m seated in the backseat. Even then, I shrink away from the tinted window.

  We drive by the front of the hospital. It looks like a zoo! Press members have staked out the hospital, and there’s police tape marking off the area while cops guide traffic around the crowd. I want to go back to the hospital room and hide in the bathroom. The back of the large car feels too big.

  I’ve never liked Shea, but she knows how to do her job. She got me out of there without one single reporter figuring out how I’d be leaving.

  “Where’s Daddy?” I ask her. She’s sitting in the front passenger seat.

  “Someone on your floor leaked pictures of you. He’s currently meeting with the head of The Left Observer to keep your face out of the garbage papers in grocery store checkout stands.”

  Distraught, I pull my hood up again, more comfortable with it on, and hunch into a corner of the backseat. The drive to Daddy’s Virginia home is long and dark. I’m dozing by the time we get there, and I’m not surprised to see more paparazzi in front of the house. I tug my hood forward and hunch as flashes of cameras go off. The gate opens so slowly, but we finally make it through.

  “I can’t leave the house!” I say, near tears again.

  “Your public personality has been elevated,” Shea replies calmly. “I’m addressing it.”

  “Addressing it? To fix it?”

  “Time might fix this. Or it might not. Like celebrities that explode overnight. Some fade away, and some don’t. We’re going to put you into the speech circuit when you’re healed in a few weeks. You’ve lived through something that will make female voters relate to you and sympathize with –”

  I feel sick at her words. I block them out. My whole life, I’ve largely avoided the spotlight. My half-sister – Daddy’s favorite – loves the attention. Everyone is happy when she’s in the spotlight and I’m hiding out with Ari.

  Shea’s cell rings. She’s not on the phone long, but it’s long enough to keep her from harping at me about the speech circuit until the car stops in front of the door.

  “Mia, to-” Shea starts.

  I open the car door to dash into the front of the house. I’ve seen pics of my sister making out with her fiancé in front of the house in newspapers; I know the paparazzi can still see us. Paul, the butler, opens the door and I hurry in, not relaxing until I’m in the middle of the grand foyer.

  “Mia!” Shea follows. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, we’re having a press conference.”

  “I don’t care about Daddy’s schedule!” I shout at her. I peel off my hoodie and sling it over the banister of the marble staircase as I go as fast as my stiff ankle will let me towards my room.

  “Mia, you are going to give a statement to the press!”

  Her words stop me. The vision of me in the mirror flashes back.

  “Your daddy’s … negotiations failed with the paper. The only way to take the steam out of this is to strike first. Your daddy wants to release the pictures from the hospital in the morning, and for you to give a statement. It’s a brilliant –”

  “Where the fuck is he, Shea?” I scream at her. “My own daddy wouldn’t come to see me in the hospital! I was raped and beaten, and he can’t come to the hospital? If I was Molly, he would’ve been there a second after I got there!”

  I haven’t taken my evening painkillers, and my body is killing me. I start crying again, making my eye and head hurt more. Shea is staring at me in surprise. I hobble up the stairs and to my room then slam the door.

  It’s dark. The dark terrifies me. I panic and claw at the wall, trying to find the light switch. I feel sick again and sink to my knees, crying too hard to turn on the light. Huddled against the wall, I sense the lights go on.

  “Omigod! It was impossible to get through those idiots out front.”

  Ari’s voice makes me look up. Her eyes widen as she looks at me. She’s dressed meticulously as usual, her red hair and green eyes standing out from her flawless skin. I always envied her and her ability to wear whatever she wants and look awesome. Her amber perfume envelopes me before she reaches me.

  “Oh, Mia,” she breathes and sits down beside me.

  I throw my arms around her and sob. My best friend since we were five, Ari and I keep each other sane as we try to hide from our ambitious fathers. She’s been there for me more than anyone.

  Ari cries, too, and we sit on the floor, hugging, until I’m too tired to cry anymore. We hold each other the way we did on Halloweens when we were little and afraid the monsters would get is.

  “No one would tell me what happened,” she says at last. “Shea finally did downstairs. She said … Mia, is it true?”

  I nod. For once, I’m grateful to Shea for calling Ari.

  “It’s my fault for not being there!”

  “No, Ari,” I say and wipe my good eye. “You didn’t do this.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if I was there!”

  “They might’ve hurt us both.”

  “No, Mia, we would’ve been okay.”

  “I love you, Ari,” I say. I pull away from her and giggle at the sight of her smeared eye make-up, red nose and bloodshot eyes. “You’re the only one who cares.”

  “This is gonna be hard to cover up with makeup,” Ari says, touching my black eye. “Did the police catch who did this?”

  “No.”

  “Well they will.”

  “No, they won’t,” I say. “Ari, I think I know who it is but
…”

  “Who? You knew him?” she demands. “Omigod, it wasn’t someone we go to school with, was it?”

  “No. Ari, I can’t remember much. There were two. One I can’t remember at all. The other …” I think again about what Chris said.

  “Who, Mia?”

  I can’t say it.

  Mia gasps suddenly and leans away. She pulls out her phone. I wonder what she’s doing. Ari spends a minute clicking and swiping. Finally, she holds out her phone. My chest tightens. I take her phone with shaking hands. I remember the picture I sent her, the one I took when Robert went to get my first drink. His back is to me, his head turned so that I can see his profile as he talks to …

  Madison.

  I drop the phone. I want to throw it outside my room, far, far away from me.

  “You called him Robert,” Mia says. “You do know him, don’t you?”

  “Chris … Chris says I have to go to court. It’ll be on TV. I can’t … remember everything, Ari. What if … what if …I ruin Daddy’s life? It’s Robert Connor.”

  “Oh.” Ari’s face grows pensive. She understands the politics better than I ever have. “But he hurt you. Your dad has to help you, even if the Connors are the Connors.”

  “I can’t go to court, Ari. I just want this all to go away. I’m so tired.”

  Ari looks troubled then smiles at me. “If you change your mind, we always have the pic.” She puts her phone away. She hugs me again.

  “Shea’s making me do a press conference in the morning.”

  “You look awful.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m staying with you tonight. I’ll fix you up in the morning. You know how good I am at that.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m so glad Shea called you.”

  “She didn’t. The police did. Shea didn’t want to let me in the house tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Some officer called me this morning. Said you asked him to.”

  I’m quiet. I vaguely remember asking Kiesha and Dom to call Ari. I guess I’m not surprised Shea didn’t call Ari, but I am surprised Dom remembered. And grateful. I start to wonder if grandpa sent someone who looked like him as my guardian angel.

  “Come on. You need some sleep before the press conference.” Ari pulls away and stands. She helps me to my feet. I limp to my bed and sit heavily. Ari goes to one of my two walk-in closets and returns with a clean t-shirt and pajama boxers.

  I smile as she sets them beside me. With her help, I struggle into my sleeping clothes and hobble to the door, locking it. She’s brought an overnight bag and retrieves it from the doorway then heads to the bathroom.

  “Ari!” I call. She always leaves the bathroom door open.

  “Yeah!”

  “Will you promise not to tell about … you know. Robert? It’s my fault for skipping the fundraiser.”

  “Mia, I really think – “

  “Promise me. Please.”

  Mia moves into the doorway of the bathroom and looks at me, toothbrush jutting from her mouth.

  “Please,” I say again. “I just want it to go away.”

  “Okay, Mia,” she says around the toothbrush.

  “Can you bring me a glass of water for my meds?”

  “Sure!”

  I sigh. I’m so happy Ari is here. I don’t know how I can spend the night alone again. Ari finishes up in the bathroom then turns off the lights. I start to panic, and she runs to turn on one of the closet lights.

  Exhausted, I take my pain meds and lay down. Ari climbs into my bed with me, like we did when we were little. I stare at the closet light until I fall asleep.

  Chapter Five

  Ari puts the finishing touches on my make-up. I look awful, but she’s managed to tone down the black-blue of my eye and cheek, make my hair look flawless, and even picked out my clothes. I’m wearing a cream sweater and khaki slacks. My wrapped ankle is hidden away in camel colored boots.

  She’s wearing some of my clothes, and seeing her in my favorite green blouse makes me smile. She’s always so put together; the fact she forgot her own clothing is a sign of how worried she was to come over. More worried than Daddy, mom, my half-siblings. My bestie really is the only one who cares for me.

  “Don’t!” Mia warns. “No crying until after the press conference! You’ll smear your mascara!”

  I swallow my tears and nod. I test my ankle by walking a few steps. No matter how much it hurts, I wouldn’t dream of wearing shoes that looked bad.

  “I really hate Shea right now,” I tell Ari.

  “Me, too. But I’m going with you. I’ll be right there. I don’t care what she says.”

  There’s a knock at my door. Ari opens it, and Chris is there. He’s in a suit today and wearing his silver-rimmed glasses. I cross my arms. He looks me over. I stare at him, puzzled. I have no idea why he’s so involved in this, especially since I said I wasn’t going to court.

  “Shea has your speech prepared. You want to go over it first?” he asks.

  “I guess.” I limp to the door and follow him. He trots down the stairs to the foyer, where two men with earpieces wait. They resemble the Secret Service escorts Daddy gets abroad.

  I’m about to ask where the conference will take place when Shea slips through the front door, followed by the flashes of tons of cameras. Ari and I exchange a look. Who has a press conference on their front porch?

  “You’ve seen Molly give speeches,” Shea says, handing me a one-page speech in a leather frame. “Keep it short and be yourself. I will be there to answer questions. The press has already received summaries of the medical records and photos.”

  “My god!” Ari exclaimed. “Why?”

  “It’s a long story,” Shea says. “

  “You didn’t give them pictures of her naked?” Ari looks horrified.

  “We were selective and honest.”

  Shea didn’t say no. My face is hot. I want to die.

  “This is it, Mia,” Chris says to me. “The best way to put out a fire is to stop it before it spreads. We’re a step ahead of the press. You being brave enough to face them should snuff the rumors.”

  “If we do this right, the press will lose interest and move onto the next thing,” Shea added. “Any questions about the speech?”

  I haven’t even looked at it. I start to read it with my good eye and instantly feel a headache coming on. I don’t get far it before Shea interrupts me again.

  “When you step outside, walk to the microphones. Give a greeting of your choice then read what’s on the paper. Thank them and let me talk. Got it?”

  It sounds easy, and if Molly can do this, I can. Then, everyone will leave me alone, and I can stay in my room for the rest of my life.

  “Ari’s going with me,” I tell Shea.

  “You say nothing,” Shea instructed Ari.

  Ari rolls her eyes at Shea, and I am privately cheering her on as Shea’s cool look turns pissed. Shea loves to be in control, and Ari loves to buck people like her.

  “It’s nine. Let’s go,” Chris says.

  He signals the two beefy men, who open the doors and walk out onto the porch. They take up positions on either side of the bank of microphones on the top stair. There’s nowhere to set my speech, no podium, just the microphones. Standing on my ankle that long is going to hurt.

  The moment I step into the doorway, I freeze up. Molly makes this look easy, but I’m baffled by the amount of people. The crowd extends from my house to the gate a quarter mile away. There’s a lull in the talk as people see me, and I’m blinded by flashbulbs. Ari nudges me. I take my first step and focus on the microphones, my destination. It seems like a long trip when I’m limping, and there’s silence aside from the clicks and flashes of cameras.

  I look up when I reach the microphones, stunned again by the amount of people in my front yard. Ari crowds me. I can hear she’s breathing as fast as I am. The masses on my front lawn wait, and I look down quickly at my speech.

&nb
sp; “Hello,” I start awkwardly. “I’m … I’m Mia Abbottt-Renou. This is my friend, Ari.”

  I look at her, and she’s pale. For once, I don’t think she knows what to say or do, either. She takes my hand, and I squeeze hers.

  “Read,” Shea prompts me quietly from somewhere behind me.

  I look down. It’s strangely quiet for being so crowded.

  “’The night before last, I went through something no woman should go through,’” I read. “’Summaries of what happened have been provided to you. At this time, I’m not … I’m not ready to talk about it publically. I ask that you give me and my family privacy during this time period. But I want to stress that hundreds of thousands of women a year go through what I did. As an advocate for women’s rights, my father condemns acts of violence against women and is dedicated to bringing those who commit domestic abuse and rape and other forms of v…violence to justice. I am cooperating fully with the police to identify them.” I stop, throat tightening at the lies. “I would also like to … issue an apology to my father, my mother and my siblings for my …” I can’t believe I’m saying the words, like a puppet. I pause. Ari squeezes my hand. “… for my actions. As you will find in the summaries, I was … drunk. I am not of legal drinking age …”

  I can’t finish this crap. No one in their right mind could say the rest out loud. Something about being partially responsible for what happened.

  “I’m sorry for that,” I say. I look up. The lights of police cars blocking off the road remind me of something I know I should say. “Finally, I want to thank the policemen … police officers who saved me. Their names are Dom and Kiesha.”

  “Do you know their last names?” someone shouts to me.

  “Um, no. Dom sounds like a Brooklyn taxi driver, and Kiesha wears ruby lipstick,” I answer.

  A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd, and my face feels hot. I see the pictures in the hand of one of the reporters at the front of the crowd. It’s of the bruise across my back.

  It hits me that everyone in front of me can see what I looked like when I got to the hospital. Daddy gave them my most intimate, terrifying moment. It makes me want to throw up.