Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

Clara blinks up at me. “Honor?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh thank God. I was so worried about you. You were late. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” My voice comes out too sharp, so I try to soften it. “I’m fine, but you remember what we talked about. If there’s trouble, I won’t bring it back to the room. You have the stash of money and—”

“I’m not leaving without you,” she says fiercely.

Worry tightens my gut. If anything goes wrong at the strip club, if I don’t come back when I’m supposed to, Clara is supposed to run. Without me. But she never quite agrees to it. Sometimes she is silent while I detail the escape routes. Other times she tells me no.

I extend my hand, and she lets me pull her up. I don’t let go, instead hugging her close and breathing deep. We may not agree on everything, but I love her. She’s my sister, and I’ll never let anything happen to her. She squeezes me back, tight enough to steal my breath.

Her voice is small. “I thought you might not come back.”

It’s easy to forget that she’s only sixteen. She’s been brave through this whole thing, but she’s still a kid. She should be worrying about pop quizzes and who asks her to homecoming.

Not living in a broken-down motel, afraid of a man at the door.

My throat feels too tight to answer. But she’s counting on me to be strong, so I am. She’s the only thing keeping me together. The urge for us to run now rises up in me. Kip’s questions hit too close to home. He knows something more than he’s telling me, but it could just as easily be about the club than my past. And Ivan… well, now he’s telling me not to leave. It’s a shit time for him to take an interest.

We’ll stay, for now. “Remember, Clara. If I don’t come back twenty-four hours after I should, you need to go. Don’t ask questions. And don’t wait for me.”

She looks down. It’s not agreement, but it’s all I can get for now.

I change the subject. “Did you do your lessons today?”

She can’t go to high school, and obviously we don’t have the tutors from home, but I still insist she does her high school course work. I’m determined that she’s going to at least have the knowledge, even if she won’t have the diploma with her name on it. One day in the future, the dust will settle.

One day she’ll be able to live a regular life. I have to believe that, or all of this is for nothing. Every baring of my breasts, every touch of a stranger—for nothing.

I see you expecting the best from the men that come through there. It’s a kind of suicide, sweetheart.

“Of course. It was easy.” Clara switches on a lamp, sending a weak glow over the tattered bedspread and furniture.

“Give it to me. I’ll check it.”

She rolls her eyes and hands over the workbooks. “Yes, Mom.”

I freeze, remembering the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who was our mother. The woman Clara barely knew. A deep longing rends my chest. I know she couldn’t have helped us through this. In some ways it’s her fault we’re in this mess. But I still miss her.

Clara looks stricken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her cheeks are still gently rounded, as are her arms. I grew up like a beanpole, growing breasts late. They’re still small for a stripper. But Clara was always a bundle of joyful, chubby girl. She’s gotten slimmer as she grows into a teenager, her waist tightening, her curves turning womanly. But her eyes still sparkle like a child’s. Eventually her baby fat will fall away. She will no longer curl up like a child when she sleeps. But I want that sparkle to stay.

I’ll do anything to keep it. I already have.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m just sorry you didn’t get to know her longer.”

She takes my hand. “I am too. But I couldn’t ask for a better big sister.”

“God, you’re sweet.” And it strikes me then, with the force of an explosion, how similar she is to Kip. How open they both are. Maybe that’s why I seem to trust Kip, even when I clearly shouldn’t. Maybe that’s why I don’t want him to die.

Her smile is like his too—sad. “I love you.”

My hand tightens around hers like a vise. I can’t say it back. Haven’t been able to say the word love since the day I heard my mother cry out for the last time. There are too many other words crowding it out. Words like run and hide and don’t let them touch you.

And the biggest word of all, floating right at the surface, struggling to break free. Help.