The shadow begins to shrink in size as whatever is there moves further away from the light source and closer to the window.
Two people? Oliver and Niven, then.Oh no, I hope she is okay.
Staring for a while, I wait for the silhouettes to materialize into beings. My heart skips a beat, and the world slows around me when the figures finally come into focus. “Evelyn!” Her name erupts from my mouth with more intensity than lava emerging from a long-sense docile volcano—its cap finally bursting after several years.
I have finally found her—she is finally here... within reach.
“Thank you,” I mutter to the being on high, as I glance up at the sky, overcast and sorrowful. All at once, visions take over—each emotion, digging up its own story to match. The obvious emotion is—
Relief: relief that she is here. She is safe. Stronger than the relief I felt with the five-car pile-up incident, and gaining the knowledge that she wasn’t hurt.
Rushing up behind it came—
Depression: The depression I have been sulking in when the nights get lonely, and I didn’t know where she was or what had happened to her. Depression, like the kind that consumed all parts of my heart when I heard my mother cry after that phone call that initiated this journey in the first place.
All at once, those emotions get tossed into the wood-chipper known as—
Anger:Anger that flows like hot magma through my veins. The questions in my head are only fueling the betrayal that feeds it.
How long has she been here? Why didn’t Oliver tell me? What could he be hiding?
Standing here with these emotions, crumbling like earthquakes, rocking me clear to my center. The air around me isclosing in—suffocating me as though I were wrapped in visqueen. The bedroom door is within reach in a matter of seconds. I know it’s locked, but that doesn’t stop me. My hand is on the handle, and I start to pull down—with each denial, I respond in kind with another yank.
Frustration arises with every click against the lock. My rage grows stronger with every click of the metal, preventing me from going further. “Damn you, Oliver!” My screams pierce the air around me at a frequency barely audible to my ears. I begin throwing myself, trashing, and gyrating like an angry toddler mid-tantrum. I ram the door, using my entire body to add more momentum—much like the ginormous logs that were used in the medieval era to bombard castle gates. When that fails to produce, I revert to throwing anything and everything I can at it.
After what could have been hours, I rest my back against the wall, dazed from the excitement—my energy drained and wasted in the attempt to break free. I am fuming and confused, as my head spins, wondering why Oliver has locked me in here.
I am replaying the events of the evening, trying to figure out if there was something I missed. Now that I know my sister is here, my brain is no longer ‘clouded’ but ‘crowded’—no longer a fog but a full-on obstacle to hurl over.
Is she healthy? Did Oliver go out and find her for me, to keep me protected?
I feel sick, my body movements feel distant, a ghost of my former self. I turn on my heels… my gaze locked on the open French doors to the balcony—all falls still around me. My heartbeat breaks the silence, faint and slow—but steady.
Lifting my foot from the wood floor, I feel my heel slam back into it as I start sprinting. Running. The wind molding around mybody as my velocity increases, only to be cut short—almost careening over the banister as I skid to a stop.
I scream her name over the roaring thunder… my arm outstretched toward her sleeping face, bobbing in the window. “EVELYN!!” My tears are now one with the rain. I watch helplessly as a man I have never seen before holds her in his arms. He was a Ginger, and he looked an awful lot like Peter, with facial features to match. The only difference was that he was much younger and even taller than Peter. His muscles were prominent beneath her weight.
I take a step back, the rain still masking my tears as it joins the streams already present. Surveying my surroundings, I see the railing is a facsimile of myself—rivulets of despair intermixing with the tears from theheavens. To the left is a trellis decorated in vines, which appears sturdy as it clings to the side of the manor. I follow it with my eyes, noticing how it just barely touches the ground. I gauge the distance and decide that it is enough for me to hang from—falling a foot instead of a whole story. Impulsively, I grab the rail, straddling it… making sure my placement is perfect.
I can do this.
I repeat in my head.
Fuck. I looked down.
Why did I look down?
Blinded by my panic, I am startled by a crash of lightning… and I slip.
Chapter 21
Oliver
"Letting go is sometimes the bravest thingyou can do for those you love."
My stomach turns with the lock, knowing that when she realizes what I have just done… she may never forgive me. The ache in my heart expands as what I planned would be my last resort has grown and bloomed before me—a carnivorous plant of doom, hungry and ready to consume all Happy Endings.
I place my hand on the door, “Please forgive me, little bird. The time for me to tell you everything… will be upon us soon.” I swallow hard, “I only need you to hold on.” My fingers drag over the oak door, disembarking one after the other till they all meet at my hip.
