But the sunlight devours me
And burns my hands,
Singeing me to dust.
Chapter 5
Ayden
Last night was going okay until Lyric mentioned that we’d eventually have to tell our parents we’re dating. I never really thought about it too much, but once she pointed it out, I realized she was right. One day, they’ll find out about us, and I’ll have to face my unworthiness. Deep down, I’ve always known her parents weren’t going to be thrilled about the messed up guy next door dating their cheery, upbeat daughter. I was ruined the moment I was chained up in that house. Those days spent locked under that roof changed me, fucked me up, poisoned my skin with marks that will never go away.
To top off the declining night, I ended up sleepwalking to the front lawn, which was not only terrifying as hell, but also extremely dangerous, all things considering.
I have no memory of what happened until the point when Lyric woke me up, yet the moment Lila and Ethan return home the next afternoon, they expect me to recount the details to them.
After Kale, Everson, and Fiona are set up at the table, doing their homework, the three of us sit down in the living room with cups of coffee and cookies because Lila believes sugar eases tense situations.
“I really can’t tell you too much about what happened.” I pick at a loose thread in the knee of my jeans. “All I can remember is waking up and seeing Lyric.”
Lyric, poor Lyric.
Worried out of her mind
As she stared into my eyes
And tried to read what was hidden in my mind.
What would she see if she broke through the lock?
What I witnessed all those days I was trapped in the dark?
I wish she never had to see that side of me.
Wish. Wish. Wish.
Wish I could be the guy she deserves,
The one who touches her with everything,
Gives her everything,
Could give her undying love.
“What about the car?” Lila brings the brim of a coffee mug to her mouth and sips. She’s been pretending to be calm, but under the surface, I can tell she’s frightened about the ordeal.
“I didn’t really notice it.” I stuff the rest of the cookie into my mouth then wipe my hands off. “Lyric did.”
“Lyric said you were staring at it.” Ethan threads his fingers through Lila’s to comfort her. “And then it drove away the moment you got into the house.”
“If that’s what she said, then I’m sure it happened that way.” I lift my shoulder and shrug, unsure of what they want me to say. “I swear, if I knew more, I’d tell you, but I’m just as confused as you.” And terrified out of my mind.
I’ll never admit that aloud, though, because then they’ll only worry about me more.
I’ve lived with the Gregorys for over two years now, and they’re some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Always wanting to keep me safe. Always trying to protect me.
“We know you’d tell us if you could remember,” Lila says, setting the cup of coffee down on the table. “I just think what we really want to make sure of is that you’re okay. I know it’s got to be hard, being stalked by these people and always worrying if . . .” She smashes her lips together as she emotionally tears up.
The clock ticks in the background. Out the window, the sun is shining across the clear blue sky, cars zip up and down the street. A neighbor is shouting at a dog, and a lady with bright red hair is strolling down the sidewalk. Her hair reminds me of blood and almost throws me back into a memory of when I ran into that house. I almost let the images through, because I want to help my sister, want to remember who the people were that took us. But my body constricts, forcing the images to fade away.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say other than I’m fine.” I blink my attention away from the window, pick up my cup of coffee, and gulp down the hot drink.
“Okay.” Lila casts a glance at Ethan. “Still, it has to be really, really stressful, especially when we don’t know if they’re going to show up again.”
She seems fairly adamant about pointing out the danger of the situation, and I’m not sure why. She knows I understand, so there has to be some other reason.
“Ethan and I worry about you,” she continues. “After the note and the car being out there last night, we think it might be a good idea if you aren’t alone very much.”
“Haven’t I been doing that already?” I ask. “Especially after getting that note the other day and then talking to the detective.”
“Yes, but . . .” She glances at Ethan again. “We just want to make sure you understand the importance of you following the rules and being safe.”
“Yeah, I understand the rules. Have for a while.” I glance back and forth between them. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve kept stuff from me in order to try to protect me from the harsh reality.
“We’re not keeping anything from you.” Ethan leans forward in the seat and rests his elbows on his knees. “We just want to make sure you’re being safe, and you’re taking care of yourself mentally. We think you’ve been a little too quiet these last couple of months.”
“I’ve always been quiet.” Where are they going with this?
“We know that, but it seems like, ever since you found out about your sister, you’ve been even quieter.”
“We just want you to know how sorry we are that this is happening,” Lila adds, her eyes welled up with tears. “I know it’s got to be hard, especially after what happened to your brother.”
I flex my fingers as my hands begin to tremble.
My brother, gone forever.
Gone, gone, gone.
Just like my sister might be.
After we all miraculously made it out of the house alive, only one of us might survive.
Or maybe none, depending on the outcome.
It isn’t like I haven’t ever thought about it—that the Soulless Mileas could get ahold of me again—I’ve worried about it every hour of every day for the last four years. The note increased the fear, though, and made the idea very real.
“We just want you to know that we’re here for you if you ever need anything.” Lila stands up, crosses the room, and takes a seat beside me. “We love you, Ayden. If you need anything at all, you can let us know, and we’ll do whatever’s in our power to make it happen.”
It’s a nice offer, but what I want isn’t in their power—a normal life with my sister and without the painful reminder of the past branded on my flesh.
Then a couple of ideas strike me from out of nowhere, ideas I’ve contemplated before but have been too afraid to ask.
“There actually might a couple of things you can do for me.” I sit up straighter in the chair. “Could you ask the detective if I can read the letter my sister wrote? I want to know what’s on there.”
Lila’s expression fills with remorse. “I’m not sure they’ll agree to that, seeing as how it’s evidence.” She places a hand on my back, a motherly gesture, but still, the contact causes me to tense.
“Could you at least ask?” I ask, one step away from begging her. “It can’t hurt to ask, right? And maybe it could help me figure out what I’m getting into since she wrote the note right after she was kidnapped.”
“If that’s what you need, then I guess I can ask.” A deep frown etches her face, and worry lines crease the corners of her eyes.
Knowing Lila, she’s probably worried how I’ll react to reading the letter, hence the hesitancy. It isn’t for her to decide, though. I need to know what’s in the note my sister was forced to write and mail to the police while she’s being held captive somewhere by people who are skeletons of human beings and once tried to drain our souls dry.
“Thanks.” I scratch at my side, preparing to ask my next question. “I also want to get the tattoo on my side covered up . . . the one they put on me.”
It’s a big step just asking for it, but I’ve wanted the tattoo removed forever. The only thing stopping me has been my fear of being touched during the inking and of tumbling into a memory. I want to believe I have the hidden strength to do it, though.
Lila glances at Ethan. “What do you think?”
“I actually like the idea of getting rid of it.” He digs his phone from his pocket. “I have a buddy who owns a tattoo parlor down near my store. He does good work. I could take you in to see what it would take to get it covered up.”
“Thanks. That’d be great.”
I know it won’t solve my problems, but the idea of having the tattoo gone gives me the strangest sense of peace.
A taste of freedom
From the bleeding ink
Staining my skin
Like the blood on their hands.
Gone, gone, gone,
The ink is fading away.
Maybe after it’s erased,
I can finally feel like I was actually saved.
After Lila and Ethan agree to my requests, I collect the car keys to head to my therapy appointment.
“You’re just going straight there, right?” Lila checks while walking me to the door.
I shake my head as I grab my jacket from the coatrack. “Yeah, I don’t have band practice tonight.” Throwing a wave over my shoulder, I open the door and step outside beneath the clouds.
“You’ll call me when you get there, right?” Lila asks, following me outside. “And text the therapist to come walk you in if no one’s around?”
“Yeah, I know the drill.” I stop at the end of the walkway, studying her. She has her arms folded tightly around her, and her gaze is continuously inspecting the houses across the street. Odd. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” She smiles stiffly. “I was just making sure that car wasn’t out here. Lyric said it was a black, newer model, right?”
“I think so.” I eye her warily, not believing her story. “But you do realize that description fits every other car in this neighborhood.”
She sighs. “I know. I really wish she could have gotten a better look at it.”
Raindrops start to fall from the sky, and I pull my hood over my head. “It could have been someone going to work.”
“Yeah, it could have,” she replies, seeming doubtful. Her eyes rise to the stormy sky, and she shields her hair from the rain with her arm. “Anyway, you get going. I’m going to be here all day, so if you need anything at all, then call.”
Nodding, I jog up the driveway toward the black, newer BMW, which kind of proves my point about the car. With everything that’s happened, though, I can’t blame them for being concerned. I just wish I wasn’t such a burden, always causing stress and worry.
Lila remains on the front porch, watching me back onto the road and steer toward the main street.
I make the drive toward the therapist’s office across town with the radio up, listening to one of the playlists Lyric made for me. Being in the car alone always makes me edgy, and I’m always checking in my rearview mirror for some sign someone is tailing me.
Today, I swear a massive maroon SUV with tinted windows matches my every turn and lane change. But right as I start to panic, the vehicle veers down a side road.
Breathing easily, I flip on the blinker at the next road and take a right, driving into a rundown neighborhood located a few miles away from my therapist’s office.
A light drizzle of rain sprinkles from the clouds as I park the car in front of the house that was the last address listed for Sadie.
The house is boarded up and painted with jagged circular symbols that match the tattoo on my ribs. The home resembles most of the surrounding structures on the street, so the entire area is extremely creepy. In a strange way, the place reminds me of the home I grew up in and how damn lucky I am to be living where I am now.
I know it isn’t the best thing to be here, but I can’t help myself. Something about the place terrifies me yet draws me to it.
I’ve been making the detour for the last month. Every time I stop by, I contemplate going inside and looking around in the hope that I get a better understanding of what Sadie went through while she was living here. But I’ve never gotten the balls to even get out of the car.
I remain in the car, staring at the peeling paint, wondering if it was put there after Sadie was kidnapped or if they did it beforehand. The detective said our cases are similar, and they stalked her first before taking her, but I still don’t know exactly how it happened.
I don’t know
Anything
About her
Other than my heart aches for her.
A year younger than me, Sadie should be a junior in high school, having fun, going to parties like I used to before I got put on lockdown. I haven’t seen her since we were removed from that house four years ago, and I don’t know what her life has been like since then. Looking at the home to the side of me, I’m guessing it hasn’t been great.
I gawk at the house for ten minutes straight before I put the car in drive and start to pull away.
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whisper to Sadie from across the room.
“How? You’re tied up, too,” she cries through the darkness, her voice weak.
Chains, chains, chains bite at my flesh.
Peel back the skin, reveal what’s inside.
Look at me raw, see the truth in my eyes.
“I don’t know how, but I will, Sadie. I swear.”
Broken promises,
Cracked and ruptured.
Left behind,
Like dust on the floor.
I’m sorry I lied.
I slam on the brakes and strangle the steering wheel as the memory crawls under my skin. Fueled with the need to see what’s hidden in the house, to understand just how badly I let my sister down, I shove the car back into park, fling the door open, and climb out.
Raindrops splatter across my face and drip from my hair as I hike up the lopsided driveway. When I reach the side door of the house, I glance around to make sure no one is around before opening it.
The smell of mold and rot engulfs my nostrils as I step over the threshold and inside what looks like a kitchen. The floorboards groan under my boots as I inch my way into the darkness.
Sticking my hand into my pocket, I remove my phone and turn on the flashlight app to get a better look around.
The cupboards are hanging crooked on the walls, the countertops are torn up, and shards of glass cover the floor.
I carefully maneuver my way through the kitchen and into the living room, the atmosphere growing darker as the outside world slips away from me. To my right is a stairway, but most of the steps are missing. I veer in the opposite direction toward a closed door tucked behind a raised wall. Painted across the wall are words that are way too familiar: Running away is like running in circles. You can’t escape once we’ve found your soul, and soon, you’ll end up back in the same place.
A cold shiver courses through me. I heard those words whispered during the weeks I was trapped.
Panicking, I turn away, but stop mid-turn.
No. I need to go through with this.
Wheeling back around, I inch toward the door, noticing an S carved in the wood right above the doorknob.
No, not Sadie.
My phone buzzes a few times, but I ignore it, needing to go through with this. I wrap my fingers around the metal knob and, with a deep breath, push open the door.
The stench of the room smothers the air from my lungs, heavy and weighted like death. I cough, covering my mouth with my arm as I glance around the small room with caved in walls and a rotting floor. In the middle of the mess is the metal frame of a bed. I can almost picture my sister sitting on it day in and day out, waiting to be saved, but no one ever shows up, and soon she’s taken away to a far worse life than even this.
Tears sting my eyes. I know it isn’t a memory, but thinking about what she must h
ave gone through—is still going through—aches deep inside me like searing hot metal against my bones.