Her glacial blue eyes ripple with tears as the door frame takes the weight of her body. She pulls the sleeves of her gray hoodie…Wait. I squint my eyes, and goosebumps lick their way over my skin when I recognize the fabric hanging off her small frame. It’s mine,she kept it.
Goddamn, this girl.
She curls the cotton over her knuckles, then her left hand wraps around her right tricep as she holds on to herself protectively.
Words are like swirling smoke. Dissipation, evaporation, non-existent.
So, I move, with optimism in each step, toward the one girl Ineverwanted to leave.
Chase had led me around the base of a ginormous set of wrought-iron stairs before sewing our path down multiple hallways. We descended little landings of black marble tiles and worked our way through various shaped rooms, though one in particular stood out to me. A large matte black grand piano sat in the middle of an open glass oval-shaped box, and the transparent ceiling sat so high, offering a view of tonight's star filled midnight sky.
It was beautiful.
The full moon's glow strobed through the open panels of glass, highlighting the dark walls perfectly.
“This is something else, Chase.” My voice is quiet as I keep my head reclined. I’m spinning, taking in the beauty above me slowly.
Chase’s head is tilted back too, joining me among the glittering shadows of the night.
I drop my chin when he doesn’t reply, and he quickly meets my gaze with a clipped nod.
What is your story?I wonder. I know he has one, one that harbors a shredded voice.I can hear it.
Chase runs his tattooed hands back through his hair, a rattled breath expanding through the walls of his chest, then he jerks his head toward the opposite end of the room. “Come on.”
He pinches his bottom lip, and I notice a slight tremble in his fingers, but I keep the recognition to myself. He’s battling something, a tomb of relentless demons. I have to remind myself that it’s none of my business.
I follow Chase down a glass-paneled hallway that mirrors a long tunnel, looking right out onto a raised manicured lawn. There are deep crimson plants and a dark pool highlighted only by the moon, along with the glimmering fireflies of the city in the distance.
“Wow.” I don’t realize I’ve voiced my astonishment until Chase chuckles at my side.
Music is loud, filtering out of the large black painted doors at the end of the tunnel, and before I can allow myself to move toward it, a hand grasps onto my wrist gently, pulling me to a pause. I’m a few feet in front of Chase when I spin around, my hair whipping over my shoulder with the movement. I meet his brown eyes, those golden flecks among the shadows standing out brightly. The pattering fists of the organ in my chest start to flutter a little harder when Chase jerks his head toward the doors and skims his lips with his thumb.
“He was different with you, you know.”
A shiver mounts my body, its unrelenting force dotting over my skin in violent goosebumps.
Silence fills the tunnel, snatching the air from around us.
I was different with him, too.
Multiple beats pass before Chase steps closer and pulls me in for a hug. I voluntarily wrap my arms around his waist while he tugs me into his warm chest. His hand comes to the back of my head where he makes his way down to the base of my neck, curling his fingers around me. The tiny hairs on my nape standon end as I hold on to him tighter. I don’t know why I feel so much comfort in Chase’s arms. Is it because I met him when I met Harlen?Is it because I found some sort of hope in him too?
His words are whispered so quietly, falling over me. “Seeing you like that-” His voice breaks and he pauses, taking a sharp breath, and I feel a tear escape my eye.
I wasn’t prepared for this.
Chase continues, “It killed me.” He drops his chin and pushes his trembling lips to the top of my head before squeezing my neck and stepping back. “You were one of the lucky ones, Cherry,” he says, taking another step backward before slipping his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans and turning around, walking away.
I watch him disappear when I whisper, “I wish I hadn’t been.”
Because truthfully, the memories of what I live through every day are bone-shattering.
You can hide the pain, but you will never subdue the ache.
When Harlen’s deep blue eyes meet mine, all I see is desperation.
The kind that feels like a battle for life–one laced with apology, guilt, hurt, and pure, unadulterated anger.
