What Nobody Else Sees

chapter eighteen

Callie gazed out the window, the darkness creeping in. Max sat at her feet in the living room. Her eyes were heavy. She pulled the quilt tighter around her body, ready to give in to sleep.

"Can we talk for a second?" Sam asked, walking in from the hallway and sitting beside her on the couch.

She sighed heavily. Just when the tiredness was overpowering the paranoia.

"Sure," she found herself saying, rubbing her eyes.

Sam placed his hands on his knees, looking at the rug. He tapped his foot quickly. "Look. I was gone for a long time. I missed a lot of things. Ruth leaving, your marriage, whatever happened with Donna, all of it. I'm really sorry about that," he said, his voice louder than necessary.

"It's fine, Sam, everything is fine now," she said, growing weary of this conversation.

"The point is, I'm here, Callie. So, if you want to talk or something..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Callie shook her head, looking down at the floor. "No. Thank you, though."

He stared at her for a moment, eagle eyes watching her face. She kept her head turned down. In a few seconds, he would decide there was nothing he could do, and he would go off to the guest bedroom, leaving Callie all alone in this dark room. Peter's eyes would watch her from pictures, and the cross on the wall would burn. She had seen this before.

"Alright," he sighed, "I'm going off to bed. Come get me if you need anything."

She nodded at him, and he left.

The door shut behind him with a click of finality. Callie sat down on the couch, hunching her shoulders together. She wrung her hands together. The world was so big, and she was so small. Everyone was loud, and she was nearly silent.

This is why Peter abused you. You weren't enough.

She covered her ears as though it would make her screaming thoughts quiet down. For a moment, it seemed to work. Curled into herself, she could almost pretend that none of this was real. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Please," she whispered. "Please make this all stop."

Instead of an answer to her prayer, the phone rang.

Callie jumped, looking around in bewilderment. Slowly, she walked to the phone, steadying her breathing. She picked it up and leaned against the wall. "Hello?"

"Callie? Is Peter not home?"

The phone nearly fell from her hands. She wasn't ready. She was not ready for this.

"Hey, Hollis, um, no. He's not home, not...not yet. But I'm sure he will be soon, it's no big deal. Shouldn't you be celebrating right now?" Her breath caught with every pause, beads of sweat on the back of her neck.

In a steady, firm voice, Hollis responded. "I can slip away for a few minutes to talk to you."

Callie laughed nervously. "Really, you don't have to do that-,"

"It's no problem. Mark said he hasn't been home since Friday night?"

Biting back a groan, Callie sank to the floor. "He left for the bar at around six, and I haven't seen or heard from him since. If he's not back by tomorrow morning, I'm going to the station to report him missing."

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, so Callie could only assume she had said the right thing. "Ok. Will you be alright by yourself tonight?"

Those minor details can stand out so much.

"I'll be fine, just like I have been all weekend." It came out more frustrated than Callie had hoped. She cringed, hating how much emotion had slipped out in that one sentence. She was supposed to be calm and easy-going, not irritable and short-tempered.

Did the perfect, angelic housewife die with Peter?

She grabbed the phone cord, twisting it around her hand until it hurt. "I'm sorry that I snapped," she mumbled.

"That's alright," Hollis responded. She was so calm, so forgiving, it made Callie want to scream. "I'll save you a slice of cake."

Blinking back tears, she nodded, even though Hollis couldn't see it. "Ok, thanks."

"Hopefully you won't have to come to the station tomorrow, but..."

"I'll see you then," Callie finished softly.

Placing the phone back to its original spot, Callie buried her face in her hands. It had been hard to lie to everyone, ridiculously hard, but Hollis would be the hardest. She would be working the investigation. It wouldn't be something that Callie could just lie her way out of, she would have to keep up appearances too.

The night of her fight with Donna, Hollis was her first call. The times when Peter left Callie alone for days, she spent a night at Hollis's. It was always Hollis, because she had promised to never abandon Callie, and for some reason, Callie believed her. With all of her trust issues, she somehow trusted Hollis to the ends of the earth.

She told you to be careful, to tell her if something was wrong, and you didn't listen. All of this could've been avoided if you had just listened to her.

She knew. She knew.

Callie closed her eyes tight, counting to three. Peter was dead, there was nothing she could do about it now. All she could do was lie, and survive, and fight for her life. She had been doing it for years, she could do it for a little longer.

The floors were covered in blood, but it didn't feel so wrong.

Shadows followed her through the house as she walked to her bedroom. Why fear them if they wouldn't leave? Might as well grow acquainted with them. She opened the bedroom door, flipping on the lights. There were eyes watching her, scolding and furious.

Callie slipped out of her dress and put on pajamas.

Have no fear, he dealt out enough of it.

She walked to the mirror, dragging a makeup wipe down her face. Losing the makeup made her feel so vulnerable, it was like losing a protective layer of herself. It kept her safe, private, hidden away. It claimed to cover up blemishes and imperfections, but that wasn't Callie's biggest concern. For her, it had other things to cover up.

Peter liked the more natural makeup, but he was also the reason that she had to wear more.

We don't have that problem anymore, now do we?

There was just something about it. Something so freeing, relieving. No one would ever hurt her again, never take advantage of her again, never hit her again. It didn't feel real, to let go of it all. Losing Peter was painful, but if freedom was the cost...

Sinner!

Murderer!

Liar!

She turned off the lights and tucked herself into the bed, falling asleep easily.