Who knew Bear would have the best poker face of us all.
I love that we got to spend some quality time with Bear, even if the day has been a long one. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time out of the house, at least not in the last… ohh… twelve years. I’m exhausted, muscles burning from the extra exertion, and I’m ready for bed. So, taking Mik’s lead, I head for my room and the comfort it brings.
The guys follow suit shortly after, the closing of doors echoing through the hall. Even in the silence of night, the house feels alive again. Like someone has breathed air back into its walls. There’s happiness and laughter, and we’ve stopped tip-toeing around each other, avoiding conversations or uncomfortable topics.
As I lay between my sheets and pull the comforter up to my chin, I can’t help the smile that grows on my face. For the first time in too long, I’m genuinely happy. She’s home, we’re together, and we can finally live our lives as we were supposed to. With thoughts of Mik floating through my head, it takes no time to drift into unconsciousness.
The chill being pumped into the room by the air conditioner should have me shaking like a leaf, but all I can feel is heat. My body thrums with an anger that boils my blood and warms every cell within me. Anger at myself, at the situation, at technology as a whole.
I graduated top of my class from M.I.T. I have god damn bachelor’s degrees in everything from cyber-security to computer programming. My IQ is 128 for fuck sakes! So tell me how in the hell can I not find one single girl.
I refuse to believe she’s dead. There’s no way they took her just to put an end to her life somewhere else. I’ve got to be missing something, some trace, some place I haven’t thought to look yet. Addison can’t be just… gone! She can’t!
“Fuuuuuuuuuucccckkkk!” I scream at the wall, throwing my computer off the desk, but it does little to make the pain go away. With a sweeping motion, I toss everything off the top of the table, flip it over, and cry out once again. It’s a visceral and throat scraping noise, bouncing off the sound-proofed walls and hitting me over and over again. The anger is alive, like a volcano ready to spew, and I can no longer hold it in.
We failed her. I failed her.
We’re still failing her, even now. We’re her friends, the other pieces of her soul, and we didn’t protect her. I’m supposed to be able to find her, to bring her home and back to safety. And in the last seven years I haven’t even been able to do that.
The rage contorts, giving way to agony as I sob while sliding down the corner of the wall. Pulling my knees to my chest, my head hangs against them in defeat. It’sbeen literal years of watching, hunting. Looking through every camera feed I can get my hands on, and mining through endless data and I’m not even a smidge closer than the day she went missing.
I can’t do this any more. What use am I when I can’t even make progress on this. Maybe they would be better off, able to do something productive without me coming up all the time with no news.
With my head still on my knees, I turn it to the side, glancing at the broken glass and shattered electronics. It would be so simple, quiet, none of them would even know until everything was gone.
Reaching forward, the glass shard feels cold to the touch as I turn it over in my hand. The reflective coating catches glimpses of my broken soul and shattered hope as they show through my eyes. The numbness has begun to take over, pulling all the anger, hate, and sorrow out of me and leaving a gaping shell that used to be Kade Daniels.
Who would really care if one more light goes out?
The door creaks, as the remainder of my emotions bleed from my heart. Max’s head popping into the space through the narrow opening. His eyes go wide as he takes in the state of the room, and me in the corner, collapsed into myself—glass in hand and detached gaze.
He pads his way over, not saying a word as he sits beside me on the floor. There are no questions asked, no promises made. He doesn’t prod, just simply reaches over and takes the broken computer screen from my fingers. When I look at him, he meets my eyes and simply shrugs his shoulders, before placing his hand on my knee. A subtle gesture to let me know he hears me, and he’s here.
I wake, dripping in sweat and choking on air. The nightmare lingers, vivid in nature and still fresh to think about. Memories of a time when the world felt like it was crashing down on top of me. When everything felt too large, too hard.
Throwing off the covers, I head for the bathroom. Beads of cooled sweat line my forehead and neck, sticking to my skin like an unwelcome shroud. My heart is vibrating, my breathing ragged as I try to shake off the lasting effects of the dream. After pressing a cold, damp cloth to my face, I lean against the counter, my handsgripping the edge like it’s a lifeline. Contemplating what may have brought that day back to the forefront of my thoughts.
No one knows how close I really came to giving up that afternoon. Not my brothers, not my family. After years of searching, self-doubt had finally won out over reason, and my mind dove into the inevitable spiral. I was consumed with “what if’s”, and already figuring out which way would be the cleanest.
I never told my parents how bad my depression got when Addison was first taken. The dark thoughts that loomed overhead like a constant storm cloud. Feeling like I was a burden for just existing, a bother because I was breathing. It didn’t matter what was said to me in that time, my thoughts were always shaded with a darkness I could never really repress.
Couple that with my already distinguished anxiety and you had the perfect ball of self-torment. Afraid to be left out and forgotten, but too exhausted to actually attend anything.
My brothers were the only people I saw, save for my family, the only people I would even let get close enough to matter. I knew on some level they were aware of my downfall, but when you’re going through your own as well, there’s only so much you can do to help others without drowning yourself.
On the day everything came to a violent explosion of repressed emotions, I was ready and willing to just end it all. End the constant suffering and suffocation I felt from not succeeding. The voices in my head with their quiet torment, reminding me how I wasn’t able to help her. I couldn’t take it anymore, and if Max had not come in when he did….
In the moment, suicide seemed like the reasonable option—like the only option. Now I see how diluted that reasoning really is, how wrong my brain had been at that time. To think that disappearing quietly would fix or solve the problems that had me in a chokehold. After that day, after Max’s quiet support lent me the strength I needed, I sought help. I spoke to my parents, the doctors, my brothers and with the help of therapy and medication, the phantoms that once controlled me have been silenced.
To this day, I still don’t know what had brought Max into the computer room or why he didn’t freak out when he saw me like that. But I’ll forever owe him for saving my life.
“I should’ve bought him a damn fruit basket,” I mumble to myself, pushing off the sink and leaving the bathroom.
My throat is as dry as the fucking Sahara after that limp down memory lane, and I doubt I’ll be able to crash again quickly. So, instead of heading back to bed, I hook a ninety degree turn and head for the door. I’ll get a glass of water and maybe sit on the patio for a while. Allow my head some time to clear the last remnants before attempting to sleep again.
I’m padding through the dark, careful not to make too much sound and wake everyone else. As I make it to the bottom of the stairs, a large shadow catches my attention. My eyes adjust to the lack of light, providing me with a better view and I see what looks like a suitcase and a backpack sitting by the front door.
Have they been sitting there all night?
