“Elliot,” he starts, and I don’t move. I don’t blink. “After your mom died… after Kade’s…” He swallows. “Things weren’t… stable. For any of you. Including Grayson,” he states.
“That’s not an answer!” I say, and he takes a deep breath.
“That’s part of it,” he answers, and my jaw tightens.
“Then give me the rest.” Another pause, only longer this time. Holden steps in, and I roll my eyes. Always the savior.
“There are things kids shouldn’t have to carry. Things that—” But he stops.
“You erased it,” I say so quickly. Once again, the room fills with silence. The air becomes thick, sothick it’s suffocating, and I just want to run. “You took something from me,” I say before even realizing it left my mouth. My dad’s eyes flick to mine. Pain. Real pain. And he takes a step towards me and I take one back.
“We protected you. All of you.”
“From what?” I seethe, and there it is again. The fucking silence. I start to shake my head, taking another step back. “No,” I breathe. “You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not when it’s coming back,” I say, and they both freeze.
“What do you mean coming back?” my father asks. I hold his gaze as the next words leave my mouth.
“I didn't find that picture,” I say. “It was sent tome.” And Holden goes still as my father’s grip on my phone tightens.
“From who?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Unknown number,”
“Is that all?” Holden asks, and I hesitate, just for a second, then I shake my head, taking the phone from my father’s hand.
“The messages all disappeared, but the person said, “You forgot,” I tell them, and the room shifts. My father’s face drains, and Holden swears under his breath. Good, I’m not the only one feeling unsettled now. “If you don’t know who the girl is,” I say, watching them closely. “Then explain why someone would think I’m supposed to remember.” Yet again, no one answers, but it’s not avoidance. It's so much more than that. It’s fear. The kind that crawls under your skin and stays there. My father looks at Holden again, something passing between them. Not confusion, it’s fucking recognition, so I call them out on it. “You do know!” I spit, and Holden shakes his head.
“Elliot–” But I interrupt.
“What happened that day?” I demand, and my father’s voice comes out quieter this time.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there.” The words hit like a crack through glass and my pulse slows.
“Who wasn’t?” I ask, and my father hesitates, swallowing thickly.
“The girl.” And the room goes silent. Something in my chest shifts, because that answer is worse then knowing the full fucking story. What in the actual fuck are they hiding? And why was this little girl never supposed to be there in the first place. This shit just leads to more questions, and I don’t have the stomach for it right now.
thirty-seven
Kade Langley
Buried
I should’ve tossed my phone across the garage, smashing it, but I didn’t. I hold it in my hand staring at the picture. At us. At the kid I used to be. At the two idiots beside me and—her. My grip tightensNo. Not her. The little girl.It should just be us. But something in my chest says otherwise. Something old and buried. “This is stupid,” I mutter, going back to the punching bag. I should be hitting it. Shutting off my brain and the noise that comes with it, but I can’t. The words that came with the photo keep replaying in my mind.You forgot! You forgot! You forgot!Like a chant that won’t fucking stop. My jaw clenches. “I didn’t forget—I just…” My thoughts trail off. I buried it. I didn’t want it. I was too young to understand what was happening or why it happened or how it happened. The garage fades, not completely, but just enough for something else to bleed through. Cold air. Dirt under my shoes. The smell of wet grass and the sound of—crying, but louder—screaming.
“Make it stop,” Grayson’s voice cuts through. Sharp with anger, just younger.
“I don’t know how, just pick her up or something,” he says frantically as my chest tightens. My breathing shifts as if my body remembers before my head does. I take a step back then another.
“No,” I snap, shaking my head hard. “I’m not doing this.” But it doesn’t stop, it never stops. Once it starts, it keeps festering, forcing its way harder and faster until the little girl is in my arms. I can feel her shivering, I can smell her scent—baby powder. The weight of her is light, small, almost too fragile. She squirms then screams. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I hear my younger self say. The crying gets louder, then I hear Grayson.
“Someone is going to hear her. Shut her up,” he growls.
“No one’s coming,” Elliot snaps. “Just—do something,” he demands, then my grip tightens on my phone, forcing me back into the present. My knuckles go white, and I keep repeating, “No! No! No!” I growl. Something is wrong. Something’s about to—but the crying I hear in the back of mymind cuts off. It just stops. No fade or whimpers. Just nothing. Silence that doesn’t belong to me.
The garage snaps back into place around me. The harsh light making me squint. My chest heaves as my breath comes in short and fast. I look down at my hands and they're empty. But I can still feel it. What the fuck is happening? It’s like I’m half stuck in the memory and in the present at the same time, because why can I still feel the little girl in my arms. The weight of her small body. My gaze drops to my phone to the little girl with the shadow covering her face, and for a split second, everything shifts—not physically, but my brain fills in something that wasn’t there before. A glimpse of the eyes. Light. Too aware. Too there.
My pulse beats rapidly as I tilt my head, still studying the photo. “Who the hell are you?” I mutter because that’s the problem, the piece that doesn’t fit. We didn’t have anyone else around us growing up. It’s always been the three of us. No outsiders allowed. Not until Zoe. Then my heart drops. Is this ZowZow? No! It can’t be. My thoughts stop for a second. Because something tries to surface, not a memory though. A feeling. Something familiar. Could this be Zoe? And she’s been with us all along, but that doesn’t make any fucking sense. My phone buzzes again and I don’t want to look, but I do anyway. Same unknown number—new message.
