“This is not the city,” I whispered, narrowing my eyes at the new scene sleeping quietly beyond the windshield. A crack ran the length of the glass, and moonlight glinted from the fracture.
Aniello pressed a kiss to my head and then shut the engine off. Instead of waiting for him to open my door, I slipped out on his side. I didn’t want to wait. Even though the area seemed peaceful, it was different. I knew what kind of dangers hid on the streets of New York. I had no fucking clue what hid in the woods that surrounded us.
“What?” I whispered, bumping my shoulder into his when I noticed his grin.
“You were afraid of the woods the first time we came,” he said. “You’re afraid again.”
“Uncertain,” I said. “There are things bigger than me out there. Things with an advantage because I can’t see in the dark. Things with big teeth and big claws. Dangerous things.”
“No more dangerous than me,” he said, placing a kiss on my knuckles.
Even though I knew he was probably right, I was glad when we made it inside of the cabin and he locked the door behind us. The darkness was deep, too thick to see through, but after a minute or two, Aniello lit a few lanterns and placed them around so I could see. He stood close to the door, giving me space, while I took in the place.
It wasn’t big. From what I could tell, it consisted of a kitchen that was open to the living room, and beyond that were two rooms. Probably one bedroom and one bathroom. A small loft was above, but I couldn’t see what was beyond the wood railing.
Even though it was small, and a little claustrophobic without many windows to open it up, the details brought it to life, starting with the rocking chairs on the porch. The long wooden beams on the ceiling. The old stone fireplace. The steps carved out of wood that led to the loft.
It would have been idyllic, almost perfect, with a few throw blankets, a few pictures, even some furniture. Personal touches that made a house a home. At one time, this place had had it. I knew this because I could see traces of what had been lying at my feet.
The place seemed to have been ransacked.
Glass was shattered all over the floor, along with porcelain dishes in chunks and small pieces. What seemed like a beautiful leather sofa was torn up. Fluff took up the spaces glass and other things didn’t. There was probably more destruction that I was missing, but the lanterns didn’t give off that much light.
If the walls were not made of solid wood, those would have probably been destroyed too.
What kind of monster would destroy a place like this? Even though it was in the middle of nowhere, the place itself was special. A place to call home. A safe place. A haven. The woods might have seemed scary in the night, but come morning, I had a feeling the view was going to be spectacular.
“Did an animal do this?” I said, turning to face Aniello. “If so, what kind? Because it had to be a big one.”
“Me,” he said simply. “I am the animal that did this.”
“Why?”
Such a simple word that held such a heavy weight in this world we existed in. I could probably count how many times I’d used it on my hands. It was dangerous, almost forbidden, to ask questions. But I no longer belonged to the organization. I belonged to this relationship. That meant the rules were going to be much, much different. I was no longer living for a poisonous vow, but one that I hoped gave me the elixir to life.
After a minute, Aniello moved toward me and offered me his hand. I took it as he said, “come,” in Italian and led me toward one of the two rooms. He hesitated outside of the door, and it brought back memories of all the times he’d done it before.
“If this is going to answer all my questions…I have to know,” I whispered. “I have to.”
“I have you again,” he said.
He didn’t have to say anything else. I understood what he’d meant. He had this much of me, and that was good enough for him, but it wasn’t good enough for me. Even if I had to struggle to find my way back again, I had to know. I had to sit with the ghost and make peace with it, if only for a short time. Because in that moment, I realized something I never had before.
That ghost was me.
It wasn’t only my memories that had died, but a part of me that seemed to hold my entire life together. My gravity.
“I’m not me,” I said. “I’m not whole. I can feel it. Something is…missing. A vital part of me. Give me this, Niello. Only you can. Please.”
“My wife,” he said. “I can remember every fucking thing that comes across my eyes. I can remember the number of cockroaches that climbed the walls of the boat I was on when I was coming to America. But my wife,my wife, can’t fucking remember what’s behind this door. If she does, and it’s too much for her mind, I might lose her. As final as death.”
This weakness, or death, in my mind caused him pain. I could feel it as well as I could feel his skin next to mine. But I couldn’t save him, or us, from this. And if he couldn’t give this to me, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever be able to recover.
Hisgood enoughwas not nearly enough for me.
Barely living was not living.
I couldn’t seem to stop living for the ghost, for the buried memories, so these bones, my flesh and blood, could take shape in my body and move on.
