Unhinge
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t sob.
I didn’t breathe.
I just curled up into a ball and stared at the other side of the room. I felt so much pain. It wouldn’t stop at me. If I let it go it would attack everyone else. So I held it deep inside me.
—
Another day passed.
And then another. I ate very little and slept even less. Renee and my mother called. I told them I was fine. The doorbell was constantly ringing. I never answered it. Sometimes there was pounding that never ended.
My eyes kept fluttering open and shut. I would get only two to three hours of sleep and then it was dark again.
This routine lasted for days.
“What am I going to do?” I asked Evelyn.
Lately I had been talking to her a lot. She never replied, but this time she cried.
I sat upright and crawled across the floor until my face was level with Evelyn’s. Then she blinked at me, looking me straight in the face.
Her arms moved, reaching out toward me. Fingers spread.
She wanted me to hold her. And a slow smile spread across my face. When I picked her up she rested her head against my chest. For the first time in days I felt happy. Complete.
The longer I held her, the more solid my heartbeat became. I could hear it beating in tune with this beautiful baby.
Evelyn. My beautiful baby Evelyn.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. This was my baby. I never lost her to begin with.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I whispered gently.
She stared up at me with her beautiful blue eyes. I cradled her for the rest of the night. A few times I dozed off but it was never for long. I couldn’t stop staring at her.
My daughter.
Early in the morning, before the sun was up, Evelyn started to fuss. I went downstairs and made her a bottle. In the quiet of the house I fed her, feeling better than ever.
This routine spanned the next few days. I was on cloud nine. Everything was clicking into place. The sharp, aching pain in my chest started to fade. I could breathe without gasping.
I felt important.
Needed.
Loved.
And that’s the best feeling in the world.
Then one day, the doorbell rang. I didn’t know what day it was. Time was starting to blend together and I didn’t care.
I opened the door. “Renee!” I greeted her with a smile.
She stared at me with visible shock. “Hi.” When she saw Evelyn in my arms, her smile faded. Fast.
“Come in.” I opened the door wider. “Come in. Meet Evelyn.”
She stepped inside but kept her distance. “Who is this?”
“My daughter,” I said proudly.
“Your daughter,” she repeated.
I glanced over at her. “Yes,” I said again slowly.
Renee dropped her purse and stared at me with wide eyes. She looked nervous and terrified.
“What’s wrong?” I held Evelyn tighter. “You’re scaring me.”
She didn’t reply, just grabbed my shoulders, her grip impossibly tight. “We need to get you out of this house.”
“I’m fine. I have Evelyn.”
“Right you have Evelyn. But don’t you want Evelyn to see the outdoors?”
I hesitated and stared down at Evelyn. “I don’t know….”
“Well, I do.” Renee looped her arm through mine and tried to drag me out the door. I stubbornly stayed put.
“I can’t leave,” I said. “Evelyn needs her car seat.”
Renee sighed. “Okay. Let’s get her in her car seat.”
“I need to pack her diaper bag.”
Renee smiled wanly. “Sure. You do all that stuff.”
I hurried around the house, gathering everything I would need. In the front closet was the car seat. I pulled it out and very gently buckled in Evelyn. She momentarily cried at not being held. I smiled and kissed her cheek.
“All right,” Renee said, her voice surprisingly high. “Are you ready to go?”
I stood up and lifted Evelyn’s car seat. “Yep.”
When I stepped outside, I immediately wanted to go back inside. I could feel someone’s eyes on me, watching every step I took. I looked around in paranoia and hurried to the car, strapping Evelyn in and double-checking to make sure she was okay.
I slammed the car door and hurriedly got in the front seat. Before I buckled up, I twisted around to check on Evelyn again.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Renee backed out of the driveway. “I want to show you this place that I found. I think you’ll really like it.”
“What’s it called?”
When the car was in drive she answered me, looking at me very solemnly. “Fairfax. I think you’ll like it.”
November 2015
Last memory. Last moment.
Last everything.
This is my finish line. But there’s no celebration.
The truth that I’ve spent days and months suppressing slams into me as hard as it can. I fall to my knees as a guttural cry escapes my mouth. “Oh God, oh God,” I moan. “My baby.”
In my arms is Evelyn. Finally, I see her for what she is. Just a plastic baby doll with lifeless eyes and a perpetual smile on her face.
Abruptly, I drop the baby to the floor and watch her fall.
This doll is not my daughter. The one that belonged to me was killed. I lift my head. All because of this man.
Everything inside me aches. It’s impossible to breathe without clutching my chest. Hunched over, I close my eyes. I want to scream the pain out of my body, but it’s futile; if anything the agony just multiplies.
“Stop screaming.” Wes is pacing, staring at me with a blank look.
It’s all too much. Sinclair is beside me. I’m in such a state of shock, I can’t move.
I think I’m paralyzed.
“Stop screaming, stop screaming, stop fucking screaming!” Wes rushes toward me and I shrink backward until my back slams into the wall.
Sinclair holds out a hand. “Wes, let’s talk calmly.”
“I’m calm,” he says and smiles as though we’re all having a small get-together. “I’m perfectly calm. But she”—he points an accusing finger at me—“isn’t. And now I can’t think straight.”
I thought that things couldn’t possibly get worse. The loss of my child was enough to send me spiraling downward. Even now I fight the urge not to retreat from the memories and ignore them altogether.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, my voice choking on the words.
Sinclair steps forward. “Victoria, listen to me—”
Wes stops pacing and turns his attention to Sinclair, the tip of the knifepoint right at his chest. My blood turns cold.
“Why is the sky blue? Why do we need oxygen to live? You could drive yourself crazy trying to find out all the answers but just know this: It had to happen. Yet you can’t seem to realize that. All you choose to see is that I’m the villain. Everyone needs to have a villain in their life, don’t they? A person they can dump all their problems on. And you…” He shakes his head, as if he’s disappointed in me. “You look like the victim. You relish playing the victim role because as long as you have someone to blame then you never have to look at yourself and what you’ve done.” There’s anticipation in his eyes, as if he’s saved the best for last. “Let me tell you the truth.”
May 2015
You can treat the world one of two ways: as your friend or opponent.
Go down the path of the first and you’re doomed. You’ll say things like, “That’s the way life is.” Or my favorite: “Chin up, pal. Next time will be better.”
But there’s no next time and by the time you realize that, you’re already gone.
I’ve taken the path less chosen. The one people are afraid to take. But life is one giant game of chess and the world is my opponent. Every move and choice has a motive behind it. My guard is never down.
Yo
u learn so much going down this road. And soon, life will start to admire you. It’ll give you hints here and there and it’s your job to pick each one and collect them like rocks.
I’ve learned so much from life: when to smile. How to engage and what to say at just the right time. It’s also showed me that you never strike back when you are hurt.
You wait.
Through that wait a seed of patience grows, takes root. It calms you down, tells you to watch and wait, when all you want to do is react. The urge to grab hold of your opponent’s pain and throw out their strength. But patience tells you to wait; you don’t want your opponent to become suspicious.
You let them live life completely unaware that the whole time you’re tracking everything they’re doing. You’ll learn all there is to know about them.
Soon…soon it’s time to strike.
And your anger? Oh, it’s there. But you don’t use it yet. So you mold it, twisting it this way and that, knowing that the longer you hold it back the more furious it gets.
Don’t worry, it will all work out in the end.
When all is said and done, when you let your pain free, it will hit your opponent so forcefully that their life will drain away, like blood from a wound.
And Victoria’s life was all around me.
It covered my hands, streaked the floor, and dirtied the countertops. On one white cabinet was a streak of her fingertips, dragging down, down, down. But this wasn’t how I wanted it to play out. Plan A—my best-laid plan. The one that I’d spent years crafting was down the fucking drain and now I needed to go with Plan B.
Very slowly I stood up and reminded myself that Victoria and I would have a great life together. I knew the second I saw her, walking down the street, so sweet and distracted, that there was nothing in the world that would keep me from her. Including a moment like this.
I loved her. She was this beautiful doll who was so open and composed, but held so much back.
It was fascinating.
My beautiful doll was much more cunning than I ever thought. It’s as though she had risen to the occasion and showed me just how perfect she was for me.
I picked up the knife. Without a second thought I swiftly swiped it across my forearm, watching with a satisfied smile as dark red freely flowed down my arm and trickled onto the floor.
I cut my other forearm. The pool of blood started to pick up and on my knees I moved, making sure that her blood was mixed with mine.
Just as I predicted, the cops were close. I could hear the faint but growing sound of sirens.
I stood up and let the knife fall to the floor. Blood was splattered across the kitchen cabinets, oven door. A few drops had managed to make it onto the counter. Not a drop was on the divorce papers.
It was an impressive scene. I could have stared at it all day long.
Reluctantly, I hurried toward the doorway and dragged my fingertips down the wall. I slammed my palm against the other wall, watching as crimson stained the white walls. Then I ran into the mudroom, toward the back door. I made sure to keep it open. Not all the way, just slightly cracked. Before I grabbed Victoria’s shoes and took off my own.
Her blood trailed across the deck and down the steps. With the rain pouring down, it was slowly disappearing, turning into a soft red and trickling off the side of the deck.
I hoped she lived; we were just getting started.
I ran across the lawn and jumped the fence, surrounded by trees and overgrown grass. The sirens grew closer and I kept running. They wouldn’t search for me, at least not right now, and when they did, I would be hiding right underneath their noses.
Adrenaline coursed through me so strong I felt unstoppable. I barely felt the ground beneath my feet, or the branches and wet grass.
The cold rain beat down on my face. I smiled and picked up the pace. Not too far ahead I saw the outline of the abandoned factory. My legs started to ache but I pushed forward. The closer I got the more I could see the graffiti on the red brick. A handful of windows were boarded up but most were broken, with shards of glass hanging on to the windowpanes. The factory was fenced in with a lock on the gates.
I made a sharp right, running along the length of the huge building until I finally saw a gray Ford Taurus that had seen better days, carefully hidden from plain sight. I grabbed the key tucked above the tire and popped the trunk. My duffel bag sat where I’d stored it hours ago.
As I quickly changed, I thought of what was going on at the house. I could picture it vividly: Two or three cops were probably there by now. Probably an ambulance, its lights creating a kaleidoscope of colors. The property would be roped with yellow police tape. They’d call for more backup. Victoria had probably arrived at the hospital, if she hadn’t died on the side of the road, that is. A cop would be there shortly to talk to her.
Police would start searching the area. Neighbors would begin to filter out of their houses, curious to see what was going on. Word would slowly spread and by tomorrow afternoon, reporters, journalists, camera crews, and photographers would be camped outside the house. The beautiful Bellamy Road home would have the attention it deserves.
I smiled to myself as I tossed my bloodied clothes in the duffel bag and put it back into the trunk.
The car door slammed behind me. The engine came to life and I pulled out onto the road. This, out of everything, was the crucial moment. I had to blend in—look like I was an innocent resident just minding his own business.
Reflexively, my hands tightened on the wheel. My eyes kept flicking between the road and the rearview mirror for anything suspicious. But there was nothing. The drive went smoothly and soon I was driving past Fairfax. Very few lights were on inside. The parking lot was practically empty, save for the nurses working the night shift, their cars all parked next to one another.
A mile later I slowed down and made a right onto a gravel road.
Water was starting to fill the potholes that peppered the uneven road. Trees flanked me on both sides and all too quickly the gravel gave way to plain dirt, with only a strip of dirty tire tracks shining in front of me. I’d been on this path so many times I turned the lights off. It was a jarring drive; the potholes were getting deeper by the second and the trees became farther apart before they gave way to reveal a small cabin. It was buried in the middle of the forest and no one knew about it.
I loved it that way. It was my oasis.
My home.
A bolt of lightning flashed, momentarily revealing the porch in front of me. Alice stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, back hunched as if she were ready to fold in on herself.
The second I got out of the car she ran down the steps. “Where have you been?”
“Where do you think I was?” I said over my shoulder and grabbed the duffel bag from the trunk.
Next to the cabin was a dinky shed that looked one wind gust away from collapsing. I walked toward it. Alice followed behind me. Her nervous energy lingered all around her. If she was going to be like this all night she could just leave right now. She’d only mess things up for me.
“It shouldn’t have taken this long,” she fretted.
“Plan A is out of the picture.”
“What happened?”
“What happened is even better than I could’ve hoped for,” I said over my shoulder.
“I really think that—”
Quickly I turned around. “We don’t have enough time to sit and chat. Go wait inside. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Just go.”
Finally, Alice turned on her heels and walked back toward the cabin. I pulled out a set of keys from my back pocket and quickly located the smallest one. Not even the strong smell of the rain could compete with what poured out of the shed. Anyone else would’ve made a face, covered their nose with their hands. Some might vomit.
I did none of the above. I walked forward and stared down at the two bodies. They looked so peaceful, almost as if they
were sleeping. Funny how just hours ago they were both walking around, still assuming that they had all the time in the world. But everyone is placed on this earth for a short amount of time. Surely they knew that.
I dropped my bag onto the ground and stared at the girl thoughtfully. She told me her name. I don’t remember it. And does it really even matter?
She was my second doll—a prop if there ever was one.
But my prop was useless now.
I turned my attention to the male body. I crossed my arms and grinned. This body was extremely important. I savored every moment stealing his life away.
Behind me the door creaked open. I turned just as Alice stepped into the doorway. Sure, I could hide the body. I could block her from the sight and tell her to get the fuck out. Or I could get this over with and show her my plan. Her eyes adjusted to the dark. She walked forward and looked beyond me. It was only a matter of seconds until she reacted. She screamed so loudly my ears started to ring.
“Can you not be so dramatic?” I asked. Already she was getting on my nerves.
She took a step forward and pointed a shaky hand toward the bodies. “What did you do?”
“Will you relax?” I turned back around and brushed back strands of the woman’s hair. It was so dark, so shiny. Just like Victoria’s. “She’s still alive. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with her.”
“I don’t care about the woman!” Alice yelled. She pointed to the man. “I care about him!”
“You can care about him until you’re blue in the face, but it won’t change a thing. He’s dead,” I said bluntly.
Alice was shaking. Tears streamed down her face. She looked at me with fear. But for what reason? I was her son. And I was making everything right.
“He was your brother,” she whispered brokenly. “Your twin.”
I stood up and wiped the dirt off on my jeans. “We weren’t raised together.”
If she stopped crying long enough, she might actually hear what I was saying. What’s more annoying than emotions? Tears. They’re just annoying and pointless.
She hurried forward and loomed over Wes’s dead body. She reached out to touch him but at the last second pulled away.