Читать книгу Thrive - Mary Borsellino - Страница 10

After that there's nothing to do but wait for the other shoe to drop. Olivia wakes up, night after night, frozen in terror and drenched in her own clammy sweat. She's never needed a lot of sleep, but even so it's not long before her parents notice the shadows under her eyes and the way she jumps in frightened surprise whenever anyone speaks to her.

They think it's post-traumatic stress. Olivia feels like the worst kind of jackass, because she wishes they were right. She knows post-traumatic stress is a big awful gross thing that ruins the lives of the people who have it, but it seems so much cleaner and simpler than this secret she's carrying. Trauma would be hers to work through and overcome, but the question of whether she'll be caught out as aiding and abetting a masker — the wilful facilitation of a crime — is not in her control. It'll happen, or it won't. All Olivia can do is wait.

After a while the waiting, the terror, fades and shifts and settles in for the long-term. The worry doesn't go away. It insinuates itself into the normal routine of emotions that Olivia has every day, like being bored or tired or lonely. She's always waiting, until she hardly notices the wait at all.

The main thing that's left of her initial fear is a sense of things being unfinished between her and Hannah. Olivia can't forget her, can't put the whole experience into the past. It doesn't feel over yet, and if nobody ever finds out what Olivia did, it never will be.

For all that her parents talk about the importance of closure, Olivia doesn't mind the thought that things will never be properly finished between her and Hannah. It feels like there's still some connection between them, a part of each other they'll carry into their separate futures.

As time goes on, it's easier to talk about things. Eventually, Olivia is brave enough to raise the topic with her mother.

'Those security guys, the ones that rescued me… they were really good at their jobs.'

'Yes, darling, your father hired the best in the business. We wanted to be as sure as sure can be that we'd get you back safe and sound.'

'But...' Olivia frowns. 'If they were as expensive as all that, why not just pay the ransom and get me back that way?'

'That's not how things are done,' her mother answers stiffly. 'You know that.'

Knowing and understanding are different things, but Olivia thinks that saying so would cause trouble. Arguing with her parents never does any good.

'You missed your birthday while you were away,' her mother says, like Olivia's been at school camp or on holiday. 'We should have a party.'

'I don't have any hair,' Olivia reminds her. Olivia doesn't care about that, but she knows her mother does.

'We can buy you a good wig. Real hair,' her mother assures her.

'I don't want a wig.'

'Don't be difficult, sweetheart.' The words have a scolding edge, but then her mother's expression softens. 'Oh, my little darling,' she says, hugging Olivia close. 'Better to lose your hair than an earlobe or a finger, at least.'

Olivia misses Hannah.