I’ve killed two men, yet I don’t feel sorry.
Staring at myself in the mirror as I brush out my hair, I don’t feel sorry at all. I’m empty inside, and there’s no sense of remorse; I don’t even have anger left. Nothing. I feel nothing for the man I killed tonight. I remember his wide eyes full of fear. I can feel his hands on me, pushing me away. I can feel the thud of the gun hitting my skin over and over as it crashed into him.
And yet, I feel nothing.
Even Stephan. Thinking of him makes me feel nothing at all.
The hairbrush tugs as I pull it through a knot, and I take my time to carefully brush it away.
I think I must be sick. It can’t be normal to feel nothing at all when hours ago I killed a man. My eyes drift to the mirror and I stare at the woman I’ve become. I look the same as before. The same eyes, my mother’s eyes. The same everything as months ago.
But I’m not that girl anymore. The problem is, I don’t know who I am.
Without Carter… suddenly the emotions flood back, and I have to slam the brush down on the vanity. It’s an antique piece of furniture and I stare at the weathered wood top wishing it would give me answers and take this pain away.
He told me I would always be his and it gave me a freedom. But that freedom scares me now that he left me. I don’t think he’ll ever take me back and it leaves me feeling hollow inside. There’s nothing remaining but the ache of him not loving me.
I suck in a breath, knowing I need to accept it and think about where I’ll go and who I’ll be once this week and this war are over.
All I know for certain is that I’ll be alone. And that sounds like the worst thing in the world when you’re empty inside.
I don’t want to be alone.
The knock at the bedroom door startles me and I nearly jump in my seat. “Come in,” I call out, opening the drawer to the vanity and placing the hairbrush inside.
My gaze catches the phone still sitting on the vanity. A phone that’s been silent all day and all night.
What’s the point of giving it to me if he had no intention of using it?
It works both ways. I know I could call him. But I’d rather let the tension sever what’s left between Carter and me. It’s best to let it slip away so when my time’s up here, it’ll be easier to walk away.
“You’re not in bed yet?” Addison’s soft voice carries into the room.
“Can’t sleep,” I tell her, not looking her in her eyes. I may not feel sorry for what I did, but I still don’t want Addison to know. I don’t want her to look at me and see the heartless killer I can be.
“I know the feeling,” she sighs and makes her way to my bed. Sitting on the end of it, she pulls her knees up and pushes her heels into the mattress. “I wanted to check on you,” she tells me hesitantly. Her voice is careful, considerate, but her eyes dart from her painted toenails to where I’m sitting as if she doesn’t know if what she has to say should be said.
My pulse flutters. Maybe she already knows.
“What’s up?” I ask her, refusing to let the anxiety take over. I am who I am. I’ve done what I’ve done. If she doesn’t understand that, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t take back what’s been done.
“Eli said you needed a little space earlier when I came down.” I thought I heard something outside… I decided not to sleep and just shower, but when I got out it sounded like…” She picks at the fresh polish on her nails and peeks at me. “He said you were in the shower but to give you some space because you didn’t seem like yourself?” she questions me, not trusting what Eli said to be true.
Swallowing thickly, I nod and then wet my lips. “There was an incident on the way to the corner store, but it’s okay.” I shrug my shoulders and turn back to the vanity, picking up the phone and holding it up for her to see before dropping it into my lap. “Nothing serious enough for Carter to call and reprimand me,” I huff a sarcastic response while rolling my eyes, trying to lighten the truth of what happened.
Glancing at the phone, and then meeting my gaze she asks, “So you’re all right?”
“Yeah.” My answer is easy and I’m hoping she’ll drop it.
“And you and Carter?” she asks and then adds, “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.” Her voice is stronger, louder and contains no offense whatsoever. “I know sometimes people like to keep things in.”
“I like to talk,” I tell her honestly and then feel the tug of a sad smile. “Sometimes.” My voice is low and so quiet I’m not sure she heard. “Some things I’d rather not talk about, but even still, I always like to talk about something. And when it comes to Carter…” The emotions swell in my throat, stopping the words from coming easily. “When it comes to Carter, I think maybe the best thing to talk about is how to move on from someone you love when they don’t love you.”
“I’m sorry.” The sympathy in Addison’s voice pushes the ache in my chest down to the pit of my stomach.
“It is what it is. He made mistakes, I made mistakes, but none of it matters anyway. We could never be together. Not being the people we are.” The words come out easier and clearer than I imagined they would. Addison’s expression remains soft as she searches my gaze for something. I’m not sure what.
“What’s going to happen then?” she asks me, breathing in deeply and wrapping her arms around her legs while setting her chin on her knees. Sitting feet away from her at the vanity, I wish I had an answer for her, but all I can think is, “Maybe I’ll do what my friend, Addison did once, maybe I’ll travel the world.”
With a hopeful smile and optimism in my voice, I add, “I’d like to be like her.”
Addison’s smile is less than joyous as she replies, “I heard she did that because she was afraid.” Her lips pull down and she bites down on her bottom lip. “I ran away, Aria. I ran because I couldn’t face what was left here.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No,” she answers in a quick breath and seems to struggle to say something else, so I push her to speak her mind. “Whatever you’re thinking,” I tell her, “you don’t have to hide it from me. I won’t judge you.”
“I don’t regret it, because it all brought me back here and brought me back to Daniel.” Her voice cracks and she looks away, back to the closed door of the bedroom.
“So, you and Daniel?” I ask her and keep my weak smile in place, no matter how my gut churns. She’s going back to him and I’m going to be alone.
“I love him, Ria,” she tells me softly, not realizing how she’s pulling at every emotion inside of me.
“I know you do,” I somehow, some way, speak the truth without letting on how much pain my heart is in. I’ll lose Carter because I’m not the woman he needs. And I’ll lose Addison because Daniel will never let her go and she’ll never let him go either. Even if that means she’ll turn a blind eye to the things he does.
As if reading my mind, she tells me, “I don’t agree with what he does sometimes, but I know he has his reasons. And I’m so sorry, Aria,” she apologizes, and I cut her off, waving my hand in the air recklessly.
“Stop it. Don’t apologize. You get it now, don’t you?” I ask her, feeling winded by the question. By the idea that with her answer, she still may not understand this complicated mess of pain and love that Carter and I make together.
“I don’t agree with it,” she tells me with sad eyes, but she doesn’t deny that she understands why.
“You don’t have to,” I tell her and then wipe the sleep from my eyes. “It’s weird, but it makes me feel better knowing you understand. Even if it’s still not…” Right. Right is the word I nearly say, but it can’t be the correct word. Because I don’t care how wrong what we had was, it was right for me. It was right for me.
And I refuse to call what we had wrong.
“Does it upset you that I still love Daniel?” she asks me, and I shake my head no.
“If I were you, I’d love him too. He’ll fight for you till the day he dies.” I almost get choked up, knowing Daniel would do just that. While Carter won’t even tell me he loves me. It shouldn’t matter to me as much as it does. But not hearing those words from him… it’s killed a part of me that I don’t think will ever breathe again.
A yawn creeps up and the exhaustion and weight from everything that happened today, every loss, every failure, makes me crave sleep.
I could sleep forever if sleep would take away this pain.
“I didn’t mean to get into all that,” Addie tells me, moving off the bed and brushing her hair to the side. She runs her fingers through her hair as she tells me, “I didn’t sleep earlier, and I was wondering if you had that vial?”
Getting up from the vanity, I leave the phone on the worn wood top and make my way to the dresser. It’s so quiet tonight, it’s only as I open up the dresser drawer and hear the pull that I realize I can’t hear the crickets. There have been crickets the last two nights, so loud that I had to pretend they were singing me a lullaby in order to sleep.
With the vial in my one hand, I shut the drawer with a hard thud and peek out of the window.
“It’s so dark tonight, isn’t it?” I ask Addison, the thin curtain grazing my fingers before I pull it back and face her.
“It is. Maybe tomorrow we’ll see the stars,” she says with a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Sweet dreams.” The words slip from me as I pass the vial to her and she tells me goodnight.
As she leaves me alone in the quiet, dark room, I can’t help but feel like it’s the last night I’ll tell her goodnight. Something inside of me, something that chills every inch of me is certain of it.
The covers rustle as I pull them back and climb into bed. I pull them closer to me, all the way up to my neck and stare at the glass knob on the door praying sleep will take me, but the nerves inside of me crawl in my stomach, in a slinking way that makes me feel sick and no matter how tightly I hold the covers, I’m freezing cold. My toes especially.
I almost get up to put socks on, almost. But I can’t. A childish fear and feeling deep in my soul wants me to stay right where I am and I listen to that fear, I obey it.
Until my tired eyes burn and the darkness slips in.
Just as I close my eyes, feeling the respite of sleep flow over every inch of me, I think I hear the door open, but when I open my eyes, it’s closed. There’s no one here.
It’s only the darkness and quietness… the signs of loneliness that lie with me tonight.
The screams from Addison rip me from my dreamless sleep. My heart pounds against my ribcage as I hear her scream again.
The clock on the dresser blinks at me; hours have passed, and I must have fallen asleep.
My legs feel heavy as I fight with the covers to move fast enough, to get out and go to Addie.
Heaving in a breath I make it halfway to the door before it bursts open. Addie’s eyes are wide, her face pale and her hair a messy halo around her head.
“Aria,” she cries out my name, pulling me hard into her, so hard it knocks what little breath is in my lungs out of me, but the way she trembles, the way her nails dig into me, I know something’s wrong.
“He was here,” she whispers in a voice drenched in terror. “I felt him,” she whimpers, pulling away from me to close my bedroom door.
As she backs away from me, she almost bumps into me and startles when I carefully take her hand.
Her fear is contagious, and I struggle to remain calm but without any idea of what she’s talking about, I have to ask her, “Who? Who was here?”
“Tyler,” she tells me and then tears leak from her eyes. She doesn’t blink, she stares at me, willing me to believe her as the tears freefall and cradle her cheeks. “Tyler… it felt so real. He was there, Aria. I felt him.”
Goosebumps travel over every inch of me and the same coldness that pricked the back of my neck when I saw the king of wands lingers there once again.
“Tyler?” I question her, knowing Tyler’s the fifth Cross brother. The youngest. The one who died.
“It was so real,” she tells me as she grabs my wrists hard. Too hard. Although it hurts, I don’t pull away; I can’t. “He’s angry,” she says, and her words are hoarse and hushed. The intense look in her eyes refuses to let me feel anything but the sincerity and desperation in her words.
Rushing her words, she tells me, “At first, he only held me and I swear I felt him. I could feel him holding me so tightly.” She releases me to cover her eyes as she falls to her knees crying harder and harder, but she doesn’t stop telling me what happened.
“He held me and told me he still loves me. He said it’s okay to love Daniel. He still loves me, and he’ll stay with me. But Aria,” she finally looks back up to me, with red-rimmed eyes, “he’s angry we left. He was never mad. Tyler never got angry and he said we need to go back. He grabbed my arms. He made me promise.” She gasps for breath as she grips her own arms, still on her knees and shaking with fear.
My own legs are weak as I lower myself to her eye level. My knees hit the cold hardwood floor. Gripping her shoulders softly, I wait for her to look me in the eyes.
“It was a dream,” I tell her, and she shakes her head.
“It was so real.”
“The drug,” I try to tell her, but she shakes her head harder, her hair viciously flailing around her shoulders.
“He told me to tell you something.” Blinking away the tears, she sniffles and tells me, “He said to hold him as tight as you can, or he’ll die.” My blood turns to ice as I stare into her eyes.
I remember the terror I had. It was only a dream.
It’s only a dream. But I don’t know how to convince her.
“He told me to leave and I have to,” she tells me in a whisper of a breath. “I have to go back.” The remorse in the air between us is palpable. And my heart sinks lower.
I don’t say a word, I only grip her close to me, squeezing her until the sound of the bedroom door flinging open startles both of us.
My stomach’s still in my throat when I see Eli in the doorway, his figure black and silhouetted by the light from the hall.
“I heard screaming and came up to your room,” he breathes heavily and then steps in, a look of relief settling over his face. “When I got there, it was empty. You scared the shit out of me, Addison,” Eli’s accent is thick as he runs his hand over his face, sleep and worry both evident in his bloodshot eyes.
Addison doesn’t let go of me, she doesn’t move. All she does is look up at him in silence.
“Are you all right?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no.
Her voice croaks when she starts to tell him but then looks at me, “I want to go…”
She holds my gaze and I offer her a small smile, squeezing her hand and sitting back on my heels to tell her, “Go.”
“What’s going on?” Eli asks and Addison hugs me tight. The tears don’t stop when she whispers, “Come with me please.”
The idea of going back to Carter…
“He doesn’t love me,” is all I can tell her, feeling the last petal wither and die inside of me. “There’s nothing for me there.”
Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. Even as Eli walks closer to us, towering over us and waiting for an answer.
“Tomorrow,” she whispers and then hugs me one last time. I can feel her tears on my shoulder and I promise myself to remember this. We’ll share a friendship forever, even if we never see each other again.
She breaks the hug before I’m ready to let go, standing and smoothing her nightgown out before wiping the tears under her eyes.
Rubbing her arm and looking sheepish, she tells Eli, “I don’t want to sleep.”
She walks past him before he can say anything else, slipping into the yellow light pouring from the doorway and going right rather than left, heading to the kitchen, away from her bedroom.
“Is she okay?” Eli asks me in a tone suggesting he truly needs to know; he’s genuinely concerned for her.
I feel the ache deep in my body as I stand up on shaky legs, still cold, still tired, and in the depths of my bones, scared. I don’t like what terrors that drug brings.
Hold him as tight as you can, or he’ll die.
A chill flows over my skin and I look Eli in the eyes to tell him, “She just had a nightmare. It was only a nightmare.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment and I peek over my shoulder to check the time, it’s past three and I just want a few hours of sleep.
“You should stay with her,” I offer him, wanting to be alone and his forehead pinches with a question he doesn’t voice.
He stands there a second longer than I’d like, so I look to the door pointedly and then back to him.
“I can never get a good read on you,” Eli says and almost turns from me to leave, but I stop him.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know where you stand and that makes you…”
“It makes me what?” I press him to continue, although there’s a threat in the way I say it. The days of him protecting me are few. I know where I’ll stand when my father’s dead. He’s not my friend. I’m smart enough to know that.
“It makes you dangerous. It makes me not trust you because I don’t know who you stand for or against.”
“I stand for a lot of people. The only ones I stand against are the ones who get in my way.” Walking him to the door, I look him in the eyes and tell him, “Remember that,” before closing the door and trying to shake off the sick, empty feeling that grows inside of me.
