Trespassing

Ava's POV

Making the decision of moving out was easy-peasy, making good on it... was another. A much harder one.

Since I'd heard my parents going at each others throats I hadn't returned home. Now, I was standing against Trip's rebuilt purring machine. Like he'd promised I'd been the first person who he'd taken for a ride, and I had to say, I liked this Porsche.

Too bad Thomas brought us here. To my house.

"I can go in if you want. You don't have to do this on your own, Ava."

"Believe me when I say doing this alone is the last thing I want—but if you go in chances are, my father won't let you get out alive." He'd probably see Trip as a thief. Stealing me away. "Stay here and keep the engine running, just in case we need to make a dash."

Thomas was smiling before my lips pecked his.

"If you need anything..."

"You're right outside. I know." I finished tracing his jaw, before scampering off to my porch.

After getting myself inside, I looked around expecting to find furniture overturned, walls damaged and pipes sticking out. Of course my house looked orderly as usual, no trace that anyone had exchanged bitter words.

"Ava!" My father's voice carried from the living room.

I walked there knowing they were both home. Their cars were both outside, like the day I'd caught them fighting.

"Where have you been? I've been calling you nonstop! You didn't answer any of them—"

"I know," I mumbled.

Dad arched a pushy eyebrow, "You know? That's the only thing you have to say? Do you know how worried I was—we were?"

I could see he was red with anger. Maybe from concern, but that wouldn't detour me from my mission. I'd come here for one reason only. To say goodbye.

"Where's mom?" I asked bluntly, dropping my bag on the couch.

Dad played the ignoring-card.

"Were you with that rich kid?" I didn't know if he was talking about Valerie or Thomas. "Do you know all the rumors around him—what have you been doing Ava? Drinking, smoking—"

"His name is Thomas." I cut off with a chilled tone. "And he doesn't do that." Not around me, anyway. "And even if he did, you should know me better than that. I'm not easily influenced." That had always been Mia's thing.

Massaging the space between his eyes, my father let out a long breath.

"Where's mom?" I asked again. "I need to talk to both of you."

Peeking at me, dad frowned. "Please don't tell me you're pregnant."

I jerked a step, "God—dad!"

"What? What do you want me to think? Thomas isn't exactly a chastity saint, now is he?"

Don't talk about things you don't know. I wanted to say. But if I said it, I'd have to explain.

I was glad to hear mom coming down. Our yelling had probably lured her out of hiding.

"Honey!" She threw her arms around me. I wanted to shake her and the stench of pricey perfume.

"I'm fine. Let go of me, please." I tried being polite, not wanting to start this off the wrong way.

Though, there was no easy way of beginning this conversation.

My mom looked like I'd just punched her. I wished. Looking at her now, I only saw the person who'd made me become a shadow of the true person I was. Mia 2.0.

"I need to talk to you guys. It's something serious... You should sit, maybe." I said, unsureness pouring out.

They didn't eye each other like they usually did. They didn't even stand a foot apart—more like they went to the extremes of the room. They were stewing.

"I heard you the other day—about how you kissed another woman, dad. I was coming in through the kitchen—I heard. So don't even try denying it." I rushed when their eyes exploded and mouths opened. "That's why I left, why I didn't come home. I had no idea how to face you or how to talk about it..."

I breathed a soft sigh, feeling myself getting closer to the crunchy-part of it all.

"Honey..."

"I've been thinking about my life a lot—not just these few days. The last couple of months and... and I don't like it. I don't like who I am when I'm here—at this house, with you guys. I become someone I'm not—I become my sister." My mother straightened. "I hate it—I feel miserable all the time."

"Ava what are you—"

I shook my head, pressing my lips shut.

"How can you be so stupid?" I yelled at my mother, scaring her. "Did you actually think I liked being a model? I always hated popularity! I never showed interest in clothing—not until Mia died! And I did because you fought all the time—you ruined my life. Both of you!" I pointed a finger at my father. "You said the same things to mom the other day... but how could you...? How could you stand idly by knowing I hated who she was turning me into and not do a thing to stop it—to stop her?"

"I think you should calm down." My mother was getting up. I took a step. "Ava—"

"You think it's my fault Mia is dead? Well, you know what? Maybe it is. But maybe if you'd loved me half as much as you'd loved her—" my voice shook with raw anger. "I wouldn't have lied, I wouldn't have needed you to come and watch the stupid play!" I threw my arms out, a hand accidentally knocked over a vase—it clattered down, shattering.

My mom glared open mouthed at the million pieces on the floor. I glanced at them, too, before meeting their eyes

"I'm not your picture-perfect golden girl. I'm not quiet and easily influenced—I'm not Mia! I don't want to be a model—I want to attend College, get a degree in photography or landscaping! I want to live my own life." I pushed my hair away, seeing through tearful eyes.

I hadn't been expecting my mother to jump forward, completely red with fury.

"You should've died instead of your sister—" I'd never seen my father lose it. Until now. He slapped my mother so hard her head snapped and she ended up losing her footing, catching herself on the couch.

His eyes were strictly fixed on hers, rage swimming near the brims. It consoled me somewhat knowing that at least one of them loved me—enough to want me alive.

"It's a good thing I'm leaving then."

Dad blinked, shifting his gaze towards me.

"What do you mean you're leaving, Ava?" His tone was shaking, like our family's true colors were too much of a mess for him to bare.

Sniffing, I said, "I'm moving out. That's what I came here to tell you."

When mom let her hand fall from her cheek, I saw dad's hand print and felt avenged.

"Where..." her voice faded when my father cut her off.

"Where are you going, honey?"

I shook off the endearment.

"Thomas and I are moving in together—I know that you probably think it's stupid, that you don't care, but I love him. He's made me happier in three months than you ever did in eighteen years—and not because of money. Thomas has always been there when I needed him, he wanted to know the real me. Something neither of you ever bothered with." Edging to the stairs, I mumbled, "I'll be picking up my stuff throughout the week. There's nothing you can say to change my mind," I smiled wryly to myself. "I'm a legal adult now, you have no control over me."

I never thought I'd be packing up my clothes—the ones I liked—to leave my house. I'd never expected my mother to admit she'd loved Mia, but never me. I'd never expected... so many things. As I trudged down the stairs with a traveling case, dad was waiting near the door.

He stared at me with a worn face, making him look older twenty years.

"Ava, please..."

"Thomas is waiting for me outside." I said unlocking the front door, stepping onto the porch—then stopped. "Dad?" I turned. His eyes looked hopeful. "I can't say I don't blame you, that would be a lie, but for all it's worth... I hope you get divorced soon—that you can be happy."

His hand reached to touch my arm, I bit my lip and he dropped it.

"You're right. I shouldn't have let her do that to you, I was just so desperate to make it work..." I nodded. I'd been the same way. "It was selfish of me. I know that now and to see how much pain this has caused you, I... I really hope one day you can forgive me, Ava."

Without a nod or a word to spare, I set course for Trip's car.

Thomas slid off the hood as soon as he saw me. Cupping my face, he tilted his head.

"Get me out of here." His sapphire gaze looked over my shoulder, where my father was still standing on the porch. "Thomas," I begged silently. "Let's go."

He wanted to know what happened. I would tell him, just not here. I wasn't about to have a major breakdown in the middle of the street. He took me to the passenger's seat and stuffed my case in the car's mallet.

There was no talking, no music as we drove away from the place I'd always called home. I pressed my head to the window, closing my eyes, focusing on the good things. It was easier when the best thing in my life laced our fingers.

***

Trip's POV

I'd woken up with Ava's arms fiercely wrapped around me. Sadly, I'd had to disentangle myself from her, carefully so she wouldn't wake up. She'd had such a peaceful expression on, no one would say she'd cried in my arms all night long.

I wanted to kill two people. Both of them were mothers. Mine and hers.

Gabriel told me to repress my violent tendencies, that I was about to get control of my life back, but I'd only believe it when that damned DVD was torched.

I drummed my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Why was he always late?

A knock later, I rolled down the window. Gabriel's hair was a complete mess like he'd just gotten up or hadn't gone to bed at all. What caught my attention was the piece of paper he was waving at me.

"Lookie what I got for you?" I snatched it.

It was a fairly long combination of numbers. One I would've never guessed.

"Remind me how you got this?" Sometimes Gabriel managed to leave me speechless.

He knew this was one of those times and grinned.

"I have my ways." I gave a look. His baby-blues rolled. "Well," he leaned forward. "The other day I searched your mother's home office. I found no combination—I even logged into the computers? Nothing. You know how my dad has a safe in his room?" I nodded. "Well, he always says that's the only combination he has written down—"

"Because it's long."

He nodded, "And because you want to keep something really locked up." Gabriel's grin flattered. "When I didn't found a thing, I figured I should move onto the next thing. Clarissa." Mom's assistant. She knew everything—and I meant everything. "Giselle trusts her, so she had to know the combo—but we both know her memory is worse than a patient with Alzheimer. She had to have it down somewhere."

He paused, drawing in a breath.

"Yesterday night I swung by Lovet, caught her when she was leaving and... huh... Well, let's say I played the right cards to get us to her place." My face paled. "It's not as bad as it sounds—"

"You had sex with her?"

"It was the only way I found to search her apartment!" He hissed. "And again, not that bad."

My face scrunched, "Fine, but spare me details."

"Whatever. After she fell a sleep I looked everywhere—I hit jackpot on her phone, though. Can you believe she had it on the memos app? Bet your mom would kill her if she knew." Definitely.

I stared at the long list of numbers then at my best friend. This was it, I was one step away from getting the DVD.

"Thank you."

"That's why I do it, to hear you thanking me." I mock-laughed. "Seriously, though. I'm glad you have this chance to end it."

"Me too." I stuffed the paper in my jacket. "You'll swing by the house soon? Ava's there on her own. I think Valerie was going over, but... I really don't want her to be alone right now."

"Yeah, I'll swing over." Gabe lingered a minute longer. "Does she know you're meeting Catherine today—that you're getting the DVD?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't want to bother her. What happened with her parents yesterday... It took a toll on her. I'm just getting this over with before Catherine has a change of heart."

"I hear ya'."

I watched Gabriel walk into his house, then started the engine, driving for Lovet.

I was near Lovet's door, waiting for Catherine to show up. Every fiber in my body clenched when I thought about being alone with her—in a I-want-to-strangle-her way.

I finally saw her climbing out of a BMW, from the passenger's side. She'd leaned over before coming out, though. Faintly, I caught sight of a guy with dark hair. He drove off after a few seconds.

"I've been waiting forever." I snapped.

Catherine smoothed a hand down her mini-skirt.

"Sorry," was all she said. "You might want to put on a nicer face. We're here to accomplish something—not looking to get caught."

"How would my face get us caught?"

"Because if you get caught in your mother's apartment you need a good excuse." I perked my eyebrow following her through the long hall of nude art. "Say you're setting up a surprise," she whispered, smiling at a passing girl. "That will work. But put on a good face."

We poured into an elevator and I pressed my mother's apartment floor, followed by the key code so it would take me there.

"You're going to keep watch?" She nodded. "Great."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't trust you, Catherine. I think that's pretty clear."

She scowled, "Yeah, but I'm helping you, aren't I? So listen. Your mother's safe is in the apartment's study room. There are only two things hanging on those walls, one is a painting, the other is a mirror. What we want is behind the mirror." I gave a brief nod, my stomach tensing with anxiety. "I'll be outside her CEO office—" the level before her apartment. "In case she shows up. Giselle always stops the office before going up to the apartment."

"It's creepy that you know my mother's routine so well."

Catherine smiled and I couldn't help but steal a glance at her lips.

"I've been working with her for a while, and she's a creature of habit. It's easy."

Cath left before me, staying on the CEO floor. I shifted uncomfortably. The words 'study', 'mirror' and 'DVD' kept playing over. I thought about what was riding on this break in.

My whole future.

Yale was out of the picture. Columbia had become my knew choice, and the way Ava was getting her grades up she'd be able to get in by the end of senior year, too. I was going to have my first job, I was going to move in with Ava—

The doors parted, revealing the apartment's hall.

I wasted no time making a run for the study room. I got it wrong the first time, I wasn't used to this place. Had probably come up here three times in all my life. When I finally found it, the door was closed. I prayed that it wasn't locked.

Trying the knob, I let out a relieved sigh.

The inside looked spacious and sophisticated. Art sculptures, a carpet that cost more than the apartment I'd bought—all rich and cold. Like my mom. I wasn't impressed that she kept a safe behind a mirror. After all, she'd spent all her life hiding behind looks.

Her vanity knew no end.

Walking over to the medium sized mirror, I lowered it to the floor. The safe was digital, all I had to do was punch in the combo and I'd be out. Punching in the numbers Gabe got me, I felt my back work up some sweat.

The door clicked open.

I launched my hand inside, hitting some money, precious necklaces and whatever else women wore—but no DVD. Gritting my teeth, I cursed Catherine. She'd lied—but why would she? What did this bring her?

Getting past my blind confusion, I noticed something strange. On one of the safe walls. I reached for the peeling paper, pulling it back and watched as a boxed DVD tumbled out.

Fuck. Catherine hadn't lied.

"What do you want to talk about that made you wait outside my office?"

Shit—I scurried for the DVD, stashing it in my back pocket. I closed the safe and nearly dropped the mirror when I was putting it back on.

"Oh, it's a personal matter." That was Catherine.

My mother and her were coming this way. Damn it. If that bitch had sold me out...

I couldn't think about that now. I needed to hide somewhere. Where...

I ran to a closet at the end of the room. Parting the doors, I wedged myself in, closing them. I never felt so happy about large closets with plenty of coats to hide me, as right now. I could see the outside through small slits the doors had. Helped me breathe, too.

They walked in and I saw Catherine looking around—she sighed and smiled the next second, sitting in front of my mother's desk. Mom took her million dollar chair.

While they talked—Catherine was telling her about the great offer from GUCCI—I felt my pocket. It was there. The thing that could ruin my life. What I was most ashamed of in the whole world.

I could destroy it—

"You're going to turn down the offer."

The back of Cath's head cocked.

"No, I really won't be doing that. It's Gucci. You don't get an opportunity like that everyday." She countered with a light scoff. "My contract has a clause saying I can quit if this job is failing me in anyway, well, by my standards it is. Besides, there were only two more months left."

My mother didn't look like a happy camper.

"I see," she mumbled, joining her hands, easing her chin on top of them. "You're engaged to Daniel Taylor, aren't you?"

"I... How did you know that?" That was the first time I heard Catherine hesitate.

"I make sure to keep track of my investments wherever they go. I know what they do, who they are with—you understand." My mom was a megalomaniac control-freak.

I heard the bitterness in Catherine's tone, "My love life is none of your business. No one's personal life is."

I watched as my mother slowly rose from her chair. Posture fine as ever.

"What happened Catherine? I thought you and I were alike. We set our sights on something and we got it, no matter who we had to screw over in the process." I didn't miss a faint smile as she said it, and couldn't help but feel sick.

Catherine said nothing but her shoulders stiffened.

"Daniel works in a very busy street, doesn't he? He even has to walk under a construction sight when he goes home...?"

I frowned. What was my mother getting at? It couldn't be—

"It would be horrible if he... suffered an accident."

My fucking God. She'd just made a threat to someone's life.

"You're blackmailing me into staying? You can't do this again—"

"I can. It worked the first time, didn't it? You were a young aspiring model, very beautiful and full of talent. And I needed someone ambitious to carry out an idea." My insides throbbed knowing where this was heading. "I said I'd fire you if you didn't play out the whole bondage-scene with my son." She shrugged. "You picked the right choice then. And I'm sure you'll—"

"No," Catherine cut her off, snatching her bag off the table. "I'm not falling for this scheme again. I'm going to quit working for you and take the job at Gucci. You and I are finished."

The heat inside the fur closet was suffocating, so when I saw Catherine walking for the door, I felt like I could do a fucking happy-dance. But that's when an audible click halted her steps.

My eyes were drawn to my mother.

Shit.

A sizable gun was being held Cath's way. A million questions flew through my mind. Was the safety on? Was it loaded? Was it real? Could my mother be capable of shooting a person?

I knew zero about guns. But even less about my mom. I'd never known she'd given Catherine an ultimatum. Screw me or lose her dream job. It didn't excuse what Cath did, but it was fucked up.

"You're insane..." I heard Catherine breathe.

My mother motioned her away from the door and she went. The straight face she had on scared me more than anything else. I couldn't tell what she'd do. I heard her talking, telling Catherine she worked for her and the only way she'd stop was if she were dead.

I couldn't believe this. I knew my mom was a little out there—but this?

Not sure why, I reached for my cell phone. Calling the police would be sending her to jail. That should've been my instinct—this woman had ruined my life, she was threatening to kill a person.

But I called someone else.

"Thomas? I'm in a meeting right now, can this—"

"Dad," I whispered so softly I didn't think he'd hear. Or maybe it was too loud and mom would know I was hiding. "Dad... mom she's... she's..."

There was noise on the other end, sounded like lots of people were there.

"What are you saying, son? I can't hear you very well."

Swallowing, I forced my eyes to lock on mom. Then I pressed into my cell.

"Mom is holding a gun at a person."

Such a long stretch of silence went by I thought the call had fallen through.

"Are you joking? This isn't funny if—"

"No!" I hissed, cringing immediately. "No..." I whispered. "I know it sounds nuts but... it's true. She's pointing a gun at Catherine—a model and—"

"Where are you?"

"The apartment above Lovet's CEO office."

"Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?" His voice was fast, and whispers in the back were replaced with shouts and traffic sounds. "Thomas?"

"No. I... She doesn't know I'm here—I'm hiding in the closet." That probably sounded cowardly as hell. "I—"

"Okay, okay—that's good. Don't let her know you're there."

I backed up further into the coats, watching through the slits as my mother smiled with that cold edge of hers. A shiver crawled up my spine.

"Dad," I murmured. "What if she shoots Catherine?"

"You stay inside the closet you hear me? Your mother isn't stable, Thomas."

"Could've fooled me..."

"No, you don't understand. Remember when she had that breakdown?"

I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see.

"Yes."

"Well, the shrink that examined her said she could be prone to others like it—or worse. She hasn't had a meltdown in a while but... but if she's confronted with a situation she can't control..."

She'd freak. And she couldn't control Catherine's free will, so mom was using drastic measures.

"I'm heading there now, don't get out of the closet—"

A bang and shrill rang through the room. Catherine fell close by the door. Blood stained her leg. She was alive, though.

"Call an ambulance."

"Thomas—"

I stuffed my phone in a pocket.

I had a hero-complex. That had to be it. I bust outside the hot closet sending my mother jumping three-feet high.

"Thomas?"

I ignored her, dropping by Catherine. My hands pressed down on the bullet wound, she screamed.

"You shot her!" I yelled above Cath's yelps. "You're a crazy nut-job, you know that?"

Mom looked between us, then at the closet.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was ice, like she wasn't talking to her own flesh and blood.

"Do you really think that matters? You shot her, mom. You shot a person—she could die!" Warm blood kept rising from the leg injury. I couldn't stare down into Catherine's autumn-leafy eyes.

What if she died?

"You never come here—what were you doing?"

"Nothing!" I yelled. "Call an ambulance—"

My mother came closer with a calculating stare, something I knew was never good, "Who knows you're here?"

Something told me not to say.

"Thomas," she said in warning. "Get up."

"What...?" I asked dumbfounded.

"You heard me. Get up—get out." Her impassive glare was on Catherine. "Move."

She was going to kill her. No matter how much I hated Catherine for what she'd done two years ago, I didn't want her dead.

"Mom," I got up, hands held up. Bloody hands. "Don't kill her. She has a right to move on with her life, you can't control everything—"

She ignored me pointing the gun down to where Catherine was. In a beat, I tackled her like any guy who'd played Lacrosse would. Fast and rough.

Something teared into me, though. I wasn't sure if it hurt more than the car crash. Shoulder throbbing, I rolled off, glaring shakily at the ceiling. My heart was pounding so hard... it made my ears ring.

Something thudded on the carpet. Something metallic.

What I saw next, was my mother's face stricken with disbelief—

"My God... Giselle, what did you do?"

"I... I didn't mean to! He tackled me—the gun went off..."

"What about the girl? Did it go off as well—good lord." I breathed sharply when someone touched me below the shoulder—where the bullet was. "Thomas?"

It took me more than I'd like, to see it was my father kneeling beside me. His eyes were all over the place, unlike his hands, they were pressing my burning wound.

"Son, can you hear me?" The panic in his voice told me to answer. I'd never heard my father so scared—or scared for that matter.

"...yes..."

He smiled grimly with relief.

"Okay, that's good. Paramedics are on their way—hang on, alright?" He looked up, delivering my mother a freezing glare.

"It was a mistake—"

"You shot our son." He growled. "You are crazy, and I'll make sure you never get close to him again—or anyone."

I'd never heard my parents argue. They mutually ignored each other or just weren't together. This was different... My eyes fluttered when more people came into the room—people wearing dark jackets.

They asked questions, poked around and took my father away. Somewhere my mother's yells echoed but I didn't care—everything turned spotty when I was moved. The sharp pain sung higher.

Cold air smacked my face, then I was moving. A siren going off every second.