Page 103

Then the hollowness comes. I would have to return to these hallways every night, with Kieran’s careful eyes and obscure intentions.

I didn’t want to.

I want to be back in that room with the low light, curled beside a fire, listening to Christian talk. It’s a new thing, I find—wanting that. He holds such stories even within the limited words this world allows, and when he speaks his truths, he looks at me like he’s checking whether I understand, and I always do, and in that exchange, it feels more like the idea of home.

Moving to stand at the window, I study the moon. This strange orb of light that always seems to linger right above me. It’s never sitting in the horizon or behind canopies, just always in sight.

I press my forehead to the cold glass. There’s only one way to address the truth of how I’ve arrived here and that is through Sara’s writings—my writings.

Turning back to the bed, I open the book’s cover. The pages fall apart near the middle, like an invisible hand holding it still. Across the spread is: WELCOME BACK MARISA WREN.

My breath stutters.

The truth is always going to be closer than you think.

Then hairline cracks begin spreading outward from each letter like ice under a pick and I am pulled from the room and downwards into darkness.

PART II

The Catharsis of Marisa Wren

Demons lurk in the past as much as they do in the present. Often, when the darkness overcomes the light, we must go backward in order to move forward. The labyrinth welcomes you, one only needs to open their eyes.

THIRTY-SEVEN

November 2002

We sat beneath a towering oak, its limbs groaning under the weight of its years. Ash lay with his head in my lap, talking animatedly about everything that would come after graduation. I wanted to peek behind the curtain of the man he was growing into. But Ash refused to allow me into his darkness. So, I acquiesced; my darkness had been enough for both of us.

That following year we were both headed to Archmouth—only by coincidence, I’d told myself. I wanted to study English Literature. Maybe an author? I had asked myself. Definitely an academic.

Did it matter that Kane would be there too? Perhaps. But it was also where my father had studied when no other school would accept him for who he was.

“What is your family doing for the Christmas break?” Ash asked on that unseasonably warm November day, tossing his worn butterfly knife from side to side. I laughed. He rolled over; kind eyes fixed on me. I felt like his entire world. I wanted to bottle it, siphon it out, and sprinkle it all over me.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Do you want to spend the break with us?”

Ash had become a fixture in our home, his comedic personality sealed into its stoned walls. He was an isolated boy even though he lived with his father and stepmother. Both were distant figures of his life. Easily he was left to drift into other people’s lives. I couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

He traced invisible letters along my leg and I threaded my fingers through his hair. His sun-kissed skin had gone pale beneath the winter’s sky; our summer had slipped away long ago.

“I’d spend every moment with you, little bird,” he said.

“What if you forget me one day?” I joked. Pestering him with silly questions, was my favorite pastime. He had always taken them in jest.

“You and I—” He had pointed to the tree we leaned against. “You are the tree, and I’m simply the vines that tangle themselves around you. Forever intertwined, and always chasing.”

I kissed his cold lips and he smiled into it.

He pulled back quickly and said, “hey, remember that I have to teach you self-defense before we leave this place.”

The final bell for the school day had ended on this particular day. I remembered it clearly because it would be a moment that I would remember for years to come. Ash was already waiting when Chloe and I approached.

“There’s my girl.” He pulled me into a hug.

I asked myself, what were we, exactly? We’d never named it, just followed the current of our attraction. He never rushed me, never demanded more. Did I love him? It was there, quiet and kindling.

“Ash, we just saw each other,” I said, helplessly pulled into his orbit.