Untamed

  “I don’t think she’ll listen to me.” Plus, I talked to Emery enough before all shit hit the fan that I understand she’s not fond of the home she grew up in.

  “Make her listen to you,” he presses. “Convince her that her life is at risk. Not only is she ruining the life her mother and I built for her, but the people who left her that note today are a real threat.”

  “That note today? Did she get a new one?”

  He nods, glancing at his watch. “Just after school. In fact, she should be calling to tell me at any moment.” He climbs out of the car but then ducks his head back into the cab. “Make her listen to you, Ryler.”

  “I’ll try.”

  What I really want to know, though, is how in the hell he knows Emery received a note when she hasn’t told him.

  I think of the last thing Brooks said to me. They’re watching me.

  “Change her mind, Ryler. Convince her to come home,” Doc urges. “No matter what lie it takes. Tell her she’ll get killed if she doesn’t.”

  “But isn’t her life in danger already? I mean, whoever is sending her those notes wants her dead, right?” At least, that’s what he’s been telling me.

  He angles his head to the side, muses over something, and then starts to shut the door. “The only person that’s a danger to Emery is Emery herself.”

  I lean over the console and sign, “What does that mean?”

  Without answering, he shuts the door then crosses the parking lot toward the dimly lit bar, whistling a Johnny Cash song. Only when he vanishes out of my sight does the oxygen fully return to my lungs.

  What did he mean Emery puts herself in danger? Is he simply referring to the fact that she won’t return home? Or is there something more to it than that?

  I’m kind of crazy. Did you know that? Did my father tell you? Emery said those words to me at the concert. I hadn’t thought too much about it at the time, chalked it up to her being drunk, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe her parents think she’s crazy and have somehow convinced her that she is.

  I shake the thought from my head. I’m getting off track.

  Even though it takes a lot of effort, I grab my “personal” phone from inside my boot and send Stale a text.

  Me: Brooks is in trouble. They found out about him.

  I strangle the shit out of the steering wheel while my heart rate settles. When Stale doesn’t text back, I slide the phone back into my boot and focus on driving toward home. It’s late enough that most of the stores are closed and the streets are fairly desolate. It gives me the sense that I’m alone in the city, and I let the ease of the feeling sink in, wishing I could grasp onto it.

  By the time I park the car at my apartment complex, Stale has responded to my text. I fetch it out of my boot, and the inner peace I felt while driving dissipates.

  Stale: Don’t worry about him. We got him out in time, but we had to pull him out before he could get an exact location on the warehouse.

  Me: Where is he?

  Stale: I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential.

  I’m not positive I entirely believe him. Stale knows that I spook easily, so I think he keeps a lot of stuff from me because of that. If Brooks has been caught by Donny Elderman, Stale might be worried I’ll bail if I find out.

  Me: U know they’ll find him even if he runs.

  Stale: That’s not for you to worry about. You just need to focus on the warehouse. Have you gotten anywhere with Emery?

  Through the windshield, I peer up to the third floor of the apartment at Emery’s bedroom window. I should just break down and tell her what’s really going on. Emery dislikes her father, so maybe she’d help me bring him and the man he works for down. But what if she didn’t? Even though I know her, I don’t know her, know her. Not enough to trust her with my life, anyway.

  Me: I’m still working on her. In fact, I’m going to work on her now. Talk to you later.

  Stale: Ryler, we’re running out of time. Things are getting dangerous. I know you’re a good guy, but it’s time to make a choice. Emery’s got to be the key to getting the location of the warehouse. I know she has to have an idea of where that warehouse is—I can feel it in my bones. Get her to trust you and open up to you. Make this happen. We no longer have Brooks anymore so this is all on you.

  I blow out a stressed breath as I reread through his words. Using Emery strikes me deep inside my soul. The girl is already broken enough, especially after she thinks I betrayed her and told her father. Now I’m just supposed to what? Crack her even more? I’ve been fighting against sinking to that low, and I want to continue fighting. But a tiny part of me wants to stop fighting and do whatever I have to do to get out of this double life.

  Me: Did you ever maybe consider just asking for Emery’s help? She doesn’t seem to like her father. She might be willing to give up the location without us tricking her into it.

  Stale: Emery could easily be as dangerous as anyone else in Donny’s circle. You can’t trust her like that.

  He’s right---I know that—but a voice fills the back of my head. The night of the concert it felt like I could trust her. That night felt… real. She felt… real. It felt like she opened up to me.

  Me: Fine. I’ll keep you updated.

  I shove the phone into my boot and climb out of the car. Instead of going straight up to Emery’s place, I make a quick stop at my apartment.

  “You look tired,” Luke notes the moment I enter the apartment.

  He’s lounging on the couch with an untouched bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and “Chloroform Perfume” by From Autumn to Ashes is playing from the stereo. Violet is tangled up in his arms, both their clothes are ruffled, and their hair is sticking up in all kinds of directions.

  “Sorry,” I sign an apology. Clearly, I just interrupted a moment between the two of them.

  “No worries,” Luke replies as Violet sits up, readjusting her shirt.

  She combs her fingers through her red and black hair. “We were just…” She looks to Luke who shrugs.

  “We were getting ready to fuck,” he tells me.

  Violet swats his arm, laughing.

  “TMI,” I sign to Luke, tearing myself away from my thoughts. I cross the living room, heading for my bedroom. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

  “You’re fine,” Violet assures me as she settles onto the couch. “We should be in the bedroom, anyway.”

  “I still have to leave soon,” I sign as I walk backwards. “I’m headed up to Emery’s, anyway.”

  “Everything okay?” Luke calls out before I step down the hallway. “You look upset.”

  I give him an a-okay sign without turning around then slip into my bedroom. I immediately shed my clothes and put on a pair of clean jeans and a shirt. Lately, I’ve felt so disgusting whenever I come back from my night job. I’ve been changing and taking showers in an attempt to cleanse myself. It never works, though, and I always feel dirty and wrong. I doubt I’ll ever feel clean again until I get out of this world and get a fresh start. I just hope I live long enough to do so.

  Chapter 9

  Mad¸ Mad World

  Emery

  My mother used to whisper of drinking the poison.

  She never stated what the poison was,

  only that she craved the taste of it on her tongue.

  Poison that burns the veins, she’d say.

  Poison that corrupts the soul.

  Poison.

  Veins.

  Corrupt.

  Soul.

  I often wonder just how corrupted her scorching soul and veins are.

  Enough to drive her crazy.

  Just the right dose, and she’ll go

  mad.

  But that’s okay.

  This world is already filled with madness, anyway.

  My brother Ellis, while I loved him, was part of this madness, too.

  He’d drink the poison like it was water,

  clear liquid he needed to purify his
blood.

  This is what he truly believed.

  That poison would save him from the madness,

  the darkness of the world.

  But I’m starting to wonder if it didn’t.

  Starting to wonder if maybe it darkened him more.

  If he became like my mother,

  filled with venom that tainted his blood.

  That like my mother, he’s rotting inside.

  Rotting away.

  Never to be saved.

  Never to be seen again.

  Ellis,

  where are you?

  I feel like the answer is buried

  deep in the unbalance part of my mind.

  Once forgotten, but now surfacing

  as the poison leaves my mind.

  I feel like I see you because I know the truth.

  Feel like maybe you’re the truth trying to get set free.

  But how do I find the truth,

  when it’s hidden inside me?

  “Emery.”

  My head whips up from my notebook, and I drop my pen on the bed. I relax when I see it’s just Ellis hovering in the doorway. Well, relax as much as I can when I’m staring at what could possibly be a hallucination.

  “Why are you here this time?” I sit up on the bed, swing my legs over the edge, and plant my feet onto the carpet. “Mother’s not coming, is she?”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t I just drop by to check up on you?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

  “You’ve never done that before,” I remind him, sliding the notebook out of the way. “Usually, you come with a warning hidden in a riddle. Or to tell me to beware of Mother and Father, which I already knew. I’ve known since I was four and they strapped me to the bed for the first time, all because I dared open the front door at night.”

  “That was the same night Father took me into the basement and punished me for the first time.”

  “In the basement? I thought that was where he took the people who betrayed Elderman.”

  “He did that, too. But sometimes he would take me down there when I betrayed him.” He pauses. “Didn’t you recognize my screams?”

  “Sometimes,” I shamefully admit with my head hung low. “But it didn’t always sound like you.”

  “Sometimes I was gagged, but it was usually in the basement… In the basement.” His voice echoes at the end.

  Bile burns at the back of my throat as the image of our basement flashes through my mind, particularly the blood staining the concrete. “Ellis, I’m so sorry that that happened to you. I should have tried to help you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.” He waves me off. “You can’t change the past, Emery, but what you can do is change your future.”

  “And now it’s riddle time, right? Could you by chance tell me a riddle I could solve this time? Like why I see you here, yet every time I call back home to talk to you, Mother won’t let me speak to you. Or why she gets so angry whenever I mention you. I know she’s upset with you, but… it’s still so odd.”

  “Mother never let us speak to each other before you left. You know that. And that’s not why I came tonight. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” He scans me over, as if checking for visible wounds. He won’t see them no matter how hard he looks. Most of my scars are internal, except for the one on my back inflicted by my father. “I had a bad feeling something was about to happen to you.”

  “If you’re not real, how is it possible for you to have a bad feeling?” I wonder, nervously wringing my hands on my lap. “For a hallucination, you seem to know a lot. Maybe it’s me that knows stuff… Are you my subconscious trying to tell me stuff I already know?”

  “How do you know that I’m not real?” he questions with speculation.

  “I have no idea.” I rub my eyes exhaustedly. “It seems like you shouldn’t be, though. You’re basically a ghost.”

  “You look tired,” he observes, changing the subject. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

  “Sort of. I never seem to be able to fall asleep until almost morning, and by then the day has already begun again.” I glance out the window with a sigh.

  It’s past ten o’clock at night, and the sky is a sheet of darkness splashed with glimmering stars. I’m in my pajamas; boxer shorts and a tank top. My long, brown hair is piled on top of my head, and my face is makeup free. I could blame my appearance on it being late, but it’s really because I’ve had zero energy to do anything since Evan left my place. Not only did he break me down and strip me of every ounce of energy, but the note has been weighing heavily on my mind. So far, I’ve received three.

  Thou shall break.

  We’re watching you, Emery. You’ve been a bad, bad girl, and now you’re going to pay.

  We know what you did.

  I haven’t told my father about the last one, and I’m unsure if I’m going to since I’m still not positive he isn’t the one sending me them. Although the handwriting doesn’t always resemble his; he could easily be hiring one of his minions to write them.

  “You should tell him,” Ellis says abruptly.

  “Tell who what?” I ask, redirecting my attention to him.

  “You should tell the guy who’s always over—the one who can’t speak—about the letter on the doorstep.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. “Ryler?”

  I press my hand to my aching chest. It hurts to think about Ryler, a maddening pain, an invisible wound rubbed with salt. The words he wrote about me they fit my life so much. I desperately want him to show up and fix my wilting life. He never did, though, and it isn’t his job to do so, anyway. His job is to obey my father.

  I want to cry just thinking about it. Cry. Cry. Cry. All the time. Cry because now I’m stuck with Evan who kisses and touches me. Bruises and breaks me. He even broke my bracelet today. Out of fear of my mother finding out again, I secured it to my wrist with a twist tie, but I have no idea what’s going to happen to me when she finds out. Part of me terrifyingly doesn’t care. With each day, I’m becoming more careless, and I have a feeling that it’ll eventually be the death of me.

  “I have to tell you something.” Ellis straightens from the doorway, crosses the room, and stops a few steps away from me.

  “Will it be something I can understand?” I tip my chin back to look up at him. “Or a puzzle for me to solve?”

  He smiles, but his expression carries a trace of pain. “I don’t have to speak in riddles anymore. You can understand me better now.”

  “Why? What’s changed? Is it because I’m no longer taking the medication? Did it all finally leave my system and all the crazy is allowing me to fully communicate with you?”

  He sighs and sits down on the foot of the bed, leaving a mattress length between us. “Your medication is part of the reason things are getting clearer—your mind is getting clear. And because of that—because you’re starting to remember—I’m finally finding peace in my life.”

  He looks utterly miserable. I want to reach out and hug him. I’m afraid to do so, though. Afraid my arms will slip right through him. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I’m saying,” he sucks in a gradual breath, “that I found my peace in life because soon I won’t be suffering. I almost feel,” his eyes drift to the ceiling, “free.”

  Free. Unlike you are now.

  Images surface, thick and heavy like dirt.

  Ellis can’t breathe.

  “How can I help you?” I ask, scooting closer to him. “Tell me what to do.”

  “All you can do is remember what is and what will never be.” When his gaze meets mine again, he shifts his weight and extends a hand toward me, but then he notices the ghostliness of his fingers and draws back. “And now I’m going to say goodbye and warn you to get out of Laramie and go some place safe. Some place where you can really hide and never be hurt again.”

  My eyes flick to the fresh bruises on my arms then to the open
door of the bedroom. “Is someone coming to get me? The person who left the envelope on my doorstep?”

  “Yes, they are. And very soon.” He sighs, his silhouette flickering. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you from what’s coming. I’m just hoping you’ll finally get peace in your life, too. That you’ll let go of the things you couldn’t control and stop blaming yourself. Let go, Emery. Please, let me go. Don’t continue to torture yourself with things you have no control over.”