We could’ve hated each other, chosen division at the estate and the compound and every moment after. I saw it so clearly—the choices. I thought I had none, that I’d been completely stripped of will. But it was a choice to search for the light among all that darkness, and it was a choice I had to make every single second of every single fucking day. No one was going to hand it to any of us. We had to fight for it, and we did, and we would. The devils weren’t all dead, but they were burning, and fire was a ravenous thing, especially in the hands of the harmed.
I held Rafe’s hand as we drove to the airport, Henry playing with his toys in the backseat. I turned on the radio, pressing through the channels until a familiar tune floated through the speakers. It was the same song I danced with Alex to, slow and haunting. It was sad, but it was hopeful, and I was glad that it had found its way back to me. It sounded like home. I let my cheek turn against the seat, drifting my gaze over Rafe. He looked over, catching me staring, and his lips curled with a small smile. I matched it with ease, and he held my hand tighter before we turned back to the road ahead with long, heavy breaths.
The great escape. Finally. Cheers.
?Arden?
VOICEMAIL 5:Kane, we’ve left the states. I won’t say where just in case, but I hope that when you listen to this—and I’m choosing to believe that there will be a when—you’ll call me, and I can give you the address. I miss you. Every day. So fucking much. I feel guilty for the happiness I’ve felt these last few weeks, making a home with Rafe and Henry, knowing that you’re out there and might be suffering. I hope you can forgive me. I promise you that we’re still looking…Please be okay, and if you’re not, tell us where you are. Show us you’re alive and we will come for you, Kane. I love you. Mick says I can’t keep leaving so many voicemails though or the inbox will fill up soon. So…just know that just because we aren’t calling doesn’t mean we’ve given up on you, okay?
In other news, an anonymous source leaked my confessions to the press. Rafe and I both think it was Officer Morris. I don’t know if you’ve had access to the news, but it’s all they play now—my voice. It’s…terrifying. But the manhunt seems to have shifted. We’re still wanted, but the world is really, trulylooking into S.I.N. now. They’ll go underground, I imagine, which worries me even more about you. S.I.N. was brazen enough in their evil in broad daylight. It’s killing me thinking about what they will do in the shadows. I’m not stupid enough to think the syndicate will just disband, but Mickey did say that there hasn’t been anymore raids on Raven orphanages. They’ve gone…quiet. I think we both know that silence isn’t an ending, and I just hope you’re not being dragged into that silence with them. I hope you’re fighting Kane, really giving them hell.
I’m doing that a lot, aren’t I? Hoping? It doesn’t feel like such a scary thing to do, and I’m grateful for that. Without hope, I would tell myself you’re dead, and I refuse that, Kane. I know you’re alive. I can feel it, and I’m here. Rafe and I are always here. Anyway, I’ve got to go now. We have the funeral for Monty and Grace today. Maybe…maybe you’ll be there? Please be there.
VOICEMAIL 11:Six months, Kane. Where are you? I…got a job. It’s nothing glamorous, but it pays the bills and doesn’t involve lighting people on fire. Wish I could say I wasn’t disappointed, but I’m not sure that conditioning will leave me in this lifetime. I’m doing work for the Ravens on the side, helping Henry make some friends, and taking both him and Rafe to specialists. Rafe still can’t sign well, and it’s taking everything in me not to hunt down the bastard who did that to him. Although honestly, Kane, Mickey mentioned when wefirst broke you guys out that he thought Rafe had done it to himself, and…I think he may have been right. It sickens me that he would’ve felt that way about himself—like he wasn’t worth having the ability to speak. I try to talk to him about it, but you know how he is. I started pushing him to type things out on the laptop Mickey sent us, and I think that’s helping him a lot. Seeing a therapist is a no-go. We obviously can’t waltz in and tell them, “Hi, yeah, we’ve murdered a lot in the past and aren’t sure how to cope.” [Shaky laughter] Can you imagine the look on that therapist’s face?
God, Kane…this is hard. The house we have is small. I mean, Mickey offered us some of Alex’s wealth, but I really want to do this on our own. We never got that chance, and Rafe is on the same page. I just didn’t realize how hard normal was, how maddening it can feel at times. I catch myself in the mirror every now and then, look at my clean clothes and my washed hair, and…how I don’t have any bruises anymore…and I feel so fake. In some ways, it’s like putting on my Doll paint again, trying not to remember the things that happened behind closed doors. Eventually, I hope that will go away, that pit in my stomach of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it all to just be ripped away.
I want to enjoy this so badly. I want to enjoy Rafe and Henry, and I want to keep getting the reports from Mick on how many kids have been rescued every day. I want to…forget, Kane. But we never will, will we? [Shuffling] [Clearing of throat] Yeah, baby, I’m in here! [More shuffling] You want to say hi to Uncle Kane? Just tap right here a few times. [Tapping] [Chuckling] Good job. Now go wash your hands for dinner. Don’t—don’t give me those eyes, Henry Creed! Get your butt to the sink…[Faint water running] [Shuffling] [Sigh] Sorry, Kane. The kid’s a handful. I see so much of all of us in him. Thorne and Leah, too. He’s definitely a Creed. I can’t wait for you to see himlike this. He’s coming out of his shell, healing so much, and his smile, Kane. Fuck. It’s hard for me not to cry every time he smiles, because I can’t help thinking about how we couldn’t but he can. We did that. We gave him that. You gave him that. You, Kane…I have to go. Rafe just texted that dinner’s ready. I love you. I hope you’re safe.
VOICEMAIL 13:Kane? Pick up pick up pick up—fuck. Mick said the phone went online for a few minutes. I thought maybe…Kane, please. [Quiet crying] I hate that I don’t know how to save you, and what’s worse is I know you think you don’t deserve saving but you do. If you’re doing this on purpose, keeping us in the dark, just know that I’ll murder you, by the way. With hugs. I’m trying to tone down the killing thing. It isn’t going so well. I may or may not have threatened to burn the bitchy mom at Henry’s soccer practice. I’ve got crazy mom rep now thanks to that, but really are we surprised? I think it would be more surprising if any of us were completely sane. [Choked laughter]
I can’t remember if I told you before but I gave Thorne and Alex my lighter. An attempt to start fresh, I guess, but the need hasn’t gone away, not knowing that there’s still kids being hurt out there. Mickey sends me things to do, boring things. Paperwork, Kane. Fucking paperwork. I’m their best explosive technician and arsonist, and they’re chaining me to a desk. [A long, heavy exhale] Anyway, I miss you. I love you. Comehome and if you can’t, just keep breathing. Breathe, Kane, you hear me? Just breathe. There’s always a way out. Always. Keep searching. We’re searching too.
VOICEMAIL 20:Hey, sweetheart…No, that sounds weird. I thought I’d try it out. Give my nickname back to you. I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws, Kane. We’ve got nothing. A year and three months since you disappeared and…nothing. The anniversary of it really rocked us. In some ways, I think it’s taken us out more than the anniversaries of Thorne and Leah. At least with them, we know they’re at peace…Rafe says he’s okay, but I can tell he’s not. Neither of us are. We’re putting on a front for Henry, but he’s smart as hell. He knows when we’re off, and he knows it’s about you. [Long pause] [Sniffling] Some good news? Maybe you need that.
Rafe’s hands are healing nicely, and we got Henry’s vision checked. He’s got glasses now, able to take in ASL better with Rafe. Turns out the kid can see about as much as me, and I’ve only got one good eye. He calls you Uncle Kane though. We took him to a doctor for his throat, and he can talk now, always asking us questions about who you are and why you never come around. He still signs too, for Rafe, which is so incredibly heartwarming to see. The damage was new enough to his throat that they were able to help him. I had hope that maybe they could do the same for Rafe, but he suffered his injury so long ago that there wasn’t much they could do exceptgive him some pain medication. Other than that, they’re doing okay. Taking it one day at a time. Happy is an uphill battle but it feels like a battle worth fighting for.
I’m…a little bit of a mess. I keep telling myself I just need time, but I won’t lie to you—it’s really fucking hard. I…Please don’t hate me for this…Part of me wishes you were dead. Fuck. I know. I suck. I just hate knowing you could be with S.I.N. It makes me physically ill if I think too long about it. I’ve had to distract myself more and more, which only makes me feel even guiltier, but…My hands are tied. I feel as if I’m mourning you without mourning. It’s this reckless stasis, and it isn’t something I can keep doing. I’ll keep looking, keep calling—you know I will—but…Kane, I hope you know I regret it. The warehouse. I keep thinking that if I’d been in that cage with you, if Rafe had, then maybe you’d be here with us now. Monty and Grace were capable. I know they were, but I never should’ve left you down there.
[Large inhale] And Kane? If you shot them, Monty and Grace, I want you to know that we would never shame you for that. Your face was fucked. There’s no way you could’ve known it was them or an enemy. You reacted in self-defense, and even Monty and Grace would’ve understood that. It’s the only thing I can think of—a reason why maybe you don’t feel like you’re worthy enough to come stay with us—but you are worthy, Kane. You’re worthy of love, of redemption, and we would shower you with both until you could see it yourself. Just give us that chance. Please. I’m so sorry. [Sobbing] I love you.
VOICEMAIL 32:Kane, Rafe is here. I’m going to interpret for him…Hi, brother. I miss you. I’m sorry I haven’t left a voicemail before. Our girl’s a bit of a phone hog—hey! [Laughter] Yes, yes, I’ll keep interpreting for you. Calm down. [A sigh]
This is Rafe again: It’s almost two years now, Kane. Henry has a birthday party this weekend. His seventh. We…we want his Uncle Kane there. I think we both know deep down that if you had this phone, you would’ve answered by now, and we also know that the voicemail box is getting close to full. So in case this is the last we get to leave, I want you to know that we’re happy, Kane. We found a way to live through it…the grief. It might not be the most perfect or miraculous life of healing, but it’s a life. We still look for you everywhere we go. Just the other day, we swear we saw you when we went to pick up Henry from school. Arden shouted your name, but it wasn’t you. The phone comes back online for a few minutes here and there, enough that we know someone has it, that maybe it’s you and maybe you’re listening.
Kane, fuck the past, fuck it all, just…come home. Come to Henry’s birthday party. Please. Let us know if you can hear us, because we will not let you go, Kane, not unless there’s a fucking body. Answer. Pick up the goddamn phone and answer. [Annoyed exhale] Sorry, the threat was me, not Rafe. He wants you to know that you can take your time, but honestly that’s bullshit. If you’re listening, if you’re fucking alive, you better beat that party, Kane Creed, or I will take my pent up pyro rage and spend it all on you. Don’t test me. I’m a mamma bear now, and you’re making my baby bear incredibly sad because Henry knows too, Kane. He knows when he’s been left, we all do, and I won’t stand for—INBOX FULL.
?Arden?
Henry’s seventh birthday unfolded in the backyard. A crooked banner stretched between the fence and the old willow tree, the letters sagging where the string dipped too low. Folding tables sat uneven in the grass, legs propped with rocks, paper tablecloths snapping in the breeze. Balloons bobbed and tugged at their strings, a few already half-deflated. The cake waited on the picnic table in the shade, blue frosting softening at the edge. I was everywhere at once. Plates tucked under one arm, knife in my hand, circling kids and food and chaos. “Don’t touch it yet,” I warned, which meant absolutely nothing.
Heath touched my arm as I scrambled past her. “Arden, relax. The kids are having fun. Just take it in for a moment.”
“Nope!” I hollered, already on the other side of the yard.
Mickey hovered near the grill and the drinks, intercepting spills and cooking burgers to order. Matthias crouched with Henry and a group of Raven children, helping him tear into a gift with exaggerated seriousness.
Rafe stayed close without hovering, a steady presence at my shoulder. Every so often his hand brushed my lower back as he passed. He’d been giving me strange looks all day. I was sure it was my frazzled appearance, but after the mishap of nearly setting our house on fire last year baking Henry’s cake, I was determined for our son to have a party where his pyro mom didn’t ruin it.
“Cake!” I announced finally, slicing pieces that were absolutely too big. Henry bounced in place. When I knelt to hand him his plate, he threw his arms around my neck without warning, sticky hands and all.
“This is the best birthday ever, mom,” he whispered into my good ear. His throat was healing so well, and speech therapy was going even better.
My throat tightened. I kissed his hair and sent him off, watching him run back to the others, frosting already smeared across his mouth. I straightened—and realized the yard had gone quiet. I frowned, my eyes darting around at the sight of way too many large smiles directed toward me. I glanced down at my dress, thinking that was it, maybe? It was one of the first I bought for myself, but it took me months before I put it on. Dresses just carried so many bad memories, but I wanted to make better ones now. I wiped my sweaty palms down over the flowing skirts, chuckling nervously. “It’s not that weird, is it?” I asked, my nerves increasing when I noticed Heath was wiping tears from her cheeks.
The kids were clustered at the far end now, Matthias telling them to be quiet, and Mickey had stepped back from the grill, chuckling at my distraught expression. “Turn around, bella,” he said, gesturing with his tongs.
Swallowing, my heart in my throat, I slowly turned, everything in me warming at the sight of Rafe. He was smiling, his cheeks pink as he waited patiently on one knee in the grass. My brainwent blank until he pulled out a small velvet box and held it out, his scarred but healed hands steady. He looked up at me, eyes intent, vulnerable.I know this is mostly superficial at this point, beautiful, but I made you a promise once that I’d put a ring on that finger when we were between hells.He took a steadying breath as I swayed unevenly.Whether there is another hell or whether we’ve finally made it to a place of peace, I know there’s no one else I want to experience it with, to wear my ring, and to be my wife.He took a large breath, his eyes tracing over my face.I am so in love with you, Arden, and I want it all with you. I want to raise Henry together, and I want to keep making our house a home, and I just want to keep being with you. Boring, maybe, but boring sounds really fucking great. With you, I feel safe. With you, I'm healing. I…didn't think that would be possible. You've given me so much hope, and I want to give that back to you, for however long I can.
