Forever Blue (26 page)

Chapter Forty Two

Ruben - the previous year

It was raining. Ever since that night, it always rained. I didn't know if it was only in my mind, but it felt real. After another evening when sleep evaded me, I hopped in the Fairlane and drove. There was something cathartic about driving Judah's car, a unique form of punishment that I knew I deserved. I found myself perched on the barrier, looking over the water on the corner of Stone's Throw Road which followed the lake and ran close to the edge of the cliff. It was the only place I could think to go when repeatedly drawing the images in my head no longer worked. I didn't look behind me at the grass, or the ditch that I knew dipped on the other side of the road. I think she wanted me there. I never used to like being alone, but ever since that night, being around other people was too much effort. I felt like I had to hide and I was tired of hiding. Watching the drops fall onto the water was comforting. They were unaware of my thoughts, unaware of the turmoil of my life. They did what they were supposed to. They fell.

With the thoughts battling in my mind and the cold, lifeless fingers crawling their way through the grass at my feet, I called the one person who knew the truth. The one person I could turn to. He didn't answer the first time, so I hung up and immediately dialled again.

He answered gruffly. "What?"

"She's here," I whispered down the phone. The hand inched closer, and I wanted to move away, but I was frozen in my actions, unsure where to turn, unsure what was real.

"Whatever you're on about, Ruben, I don't care," Judah said.

"Please," I whispered, scared that if I raised my voice I would wake her. "I need you, Judah. I'm seeing things. It isn't right. Come get me. I need to confess. It's the only way to escape."

Judah was silent on the other end of the phone and I thought he'd hung up. "Where are you?" he asked finally.

"At the lake."

I dropped my phone in the dirt and her fingers crawled towards it hungrily. She was awake. "What do you want?" I hissed.

Her nails, caked in mud, dug into the ground as she pulled herself closer. Blood ran down her arm. She twisted herself around to look up at me, her mouth forming words that floated through the air as though it were water, and came out muffled and distorted. I blinked and shook my head, afraid that I had fallen asleep, but I hadn't. At least, I don't think I had. And this time, when her mouth formed the words, I heard them.

"It must be you." Her voice was savage, as though her throat was torn. It was guttural and harsh. And it scared me.

"What do you want?" I said again. Only, this time, it came out more like a plea.

"It must be you," she said again.

"What must be me?" I asked as the desperation began to pulsate as panic. "It must be me that killed you?" I stood from my perch on the railing and paced the ground beside where she lay. "Do you want to hear me admit it? Is that what you need to hear?"

She just stared at me through unblinking, dead eyes.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted into the rain.

But she just lay there. Rain fell on her face and nestled in her hair, but her eyes never left mine. "It must be you," she said again.

"It must be me, what?" I shouted. "Me who dies?" I twisted the cap off the bottle of twenty-year-old bourbon I had stolen from Dad's liquor cabinet and brought it to my lips, but I couldn't drink. I was afraid if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from falling asleep, and I knew she would be waiting in my dreams. She was always waiting. And she was far more terrifying when I was asleep.

As I looked into those eyes locked on mine, I finally knew what she wanted. Me.

"You want me dead? You want me to be like you?" I walked to the edge of the cliff, threw my arms out wide and tipped my head back to the sky. "Here!" I shouted. "Here I am. Do what you want."

I closed my eyes and waited for the shove to come. I was sure that was what she wanted. She wanted to kill me, just like I killed her. But the push never came, and I turned back to her, still lying in the dirt, staring at me with those cruel eyes.

"It must be you." It was a whisper this time, but it still caught in her throat and came out fleshly and ragged.

"It must be me," I repeated.

"It must be you," she said again, but it was almost gentle this time.

I hung my head and looked at her deathly-pale arm lying on the ground. I knew what she wanted, and I knew why she wouldn't do it. It must be me. If she did it, it wouldn't work. I wouldn't be free of her.

I finally knew why it must be me.

Chapter Forty Three

Lennon

If Grams was surprised to wake to three teenagers leaning over her bed, she didn't show it. She sat up and reached for the lemonade bottle, taking a big swig. "Questions?" she said, lifting her pencil-thin eyebrows.

"Could Ruben have been haunted too?" I asked.

Grams scoffed. "Women are usually more sensitive to these sorts of things than men, it would be highly unlikely. Unless—" She paused, her eyes glazing over and retreating to a place we couldn't follow. I shook her gently, willing her back, and her eyes focussed and snapped on me.

"Unless," I prompted. There was a part of me hoping that if Ruben had been haunted too, it would change the outcome, and somehow he would become the victim in all this, not the villain that he was in Grams' eyes.

"Unless he killed someone," Grams said bluntly. A slow, sinister smile spread across her face as she looked at the expression on mine. "He did, didn't he?"

"It was an accident," Judah said quietly.

"And who are you?" Grams asked.

"His brother," I answered for him.

Grams reached over and plucked a cigarette from the packet lying by her bed. As Cara's eyes lit up, Grams offered one to her and Cara took it between her lips and leaned over so Grams could light it.

"It's not even legal for her to smoke, Grams," I said, letting out a sigh.

Grams looked at me and blinked once. "The girl clearly smokes. I can see it in her eyes. Her decision had been made long before I offered her one." She drew another cigarette from the packet, lit it and inhaled a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Much better," she said. "Now, you're his brother?" She turned to Judah.

"Twin," he confirmed.

Grams' lips turned down in surprise as she peered at him. "There were stories," she said. Grams' usually blunt, to the point words, were missing and it seemed she wanted to talk around the situation, increasing my frustration. "Where is he now?"

Everyone turned to me. "I haven't seen him since you attacked him."

Grams sniggered. "You're such a drama queen, Lennon. I would hardly call what I did an attack. And I think he got his own back." She lay back in her bed, the cigarette in her fingers spiralling smoke into the air. It joined the smoke from Cara's cigarette and hovered above us as a thin cloud. "There was one man who was haunted by the man he accidently shot. Terrible thing, it was.

He was a hunter, you know, deer and the like, and he was out with a friend when they decided to separate to cover more ground. In the dim light, what he thought was a deer turned out to be his friend. He was sedated when he came into the home, but I overheard the nurses talking and apparently he was convinced that his dead friend was hunting him. No one believed him, of course, and only two weeks after he arrived they found him dead in his room. Gunshot to the head. No one heard a thing and they never found the weapon. And the strangest thing of all was his cousin turned up months later, claiming she could see her dead cousin. It was as though the ability transferred to her. The poor thing was terrified." Grams adjusted herself on the bed and stubbed out her cigarette. "It doesn't happen for everyone like it did for us, Lennon. For us it was gentle. We didn't know what they were, and by the time we did, we had already formed a bond. Some people are in terror from the start, knowing they're seeing things they shouldn't."

"But doesn't that mean that he is different?" I asked, desperate for any reason to believe that Ruben wasn't a threat, even though deep down I knew it was true.

"Different? Yes," Grams confirmed. "It means that he will know what he is doing to you. It means that you won't have much time left. You must do it soon. When is the anniversary of his death?"

"Tomorrow night," Judah said, locking eyes with me.

"Well, I suggest you get a crack on," Grams said, as plainly as someone suggesting we were late for a movie, not plotting someone's death, if you could call it that, considering he was already dead. "From what I can gather, it works the best on the anniversary of their death. They are weaker, less able to fight back."

"I'll do it," Judah said, stepping closer to Grams' bed. "Lennon isn't well, she isn't strong enough with him around, and I was with him the first time."

Grams shook her head. "It must be Lennon. It can only be Lennon. She must kill him in the same manner he first died."

"But what if she gets trapped down there too? What if she isn't strong enough to swim to the surface?" Judah protested.

"It must be by her hand or it will not work," Grams said calmly.

"Excuse me," Cara interrupted. "But I feel I need to be the voice of reason here. Has it not occurred to you that perhaps Lennon should see a head doctor or something first? You know, before she drives herself off a cliff?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Grams asked sharply.

Cara shrugged. "Just thought it might be worth mentioning, considering you are suggesting that your own granddaughter drive over a cliff for the sole reason of getting rid of someone, who, on all accounts, only exists in her head."

Grams grunted. "Just because you don't see something, doesn't mean it isn't real. And believe me, this is all too real. Let me tell you what her life will be like if she doesn't do this. First of all, it will be brief. All her energy will drain away until she is just a shadow of the girl she used to be. Her dreams will enter her reality until she can no longer tell what is real and what is only seen by her. Her affection for him will turn to hate. She will loathe him. But she won't be able to get rid of him." Grams looked at me. "It's happened already, hasn't it? You've already had a taste of fear, just the faintest flicker of resentment, but it's there. You know what I'm saying is true. That will be your world until your last breath. I saw it first-hand. I lived it. You must do this."

Cara held up her hands in defeat, but I could still see the doubt in her expression. I didn't blame her. I was confused enough, and I saw Ruben. But Grams' words scared me because I knew them to be true.

It felt strange making the plan, discussing it in the same manner as one might plan a trip to the city. When it was over, I noticed Cara had left her jacket lying on Grams' bed. I ran out to the carpark to find her and Judah sitting in his car, the engine idling loudly.

"So we're just going to take the word of a girl who claims she can see your dead brother, and an old lady who hasn't been allowed out in public alone for something like thirty years?" Cara said.

"She thinks my dead brother is haunting her. I feel like I owe it to him." Judah stared at his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. "I couldn't help him, but maybe I can help her."

Cara twisted in her seat to face him, turning her back to where I was standing just outside the sliding doors. "By helping her do the same thing he did? Drive off a cliff?"

"Maybe that's what it will take for her to get better. If I had just listened to Ruben, if I had made an effort to believe him, then maybe he'd still be here." He loosened his grip on the wheel and ran his fingers lovingly over the dashboard. "This old girl has caused me more grief than she's worth, anyway." He ran his fingers down the smooth panels. "Too many bad memories. She belongs at the bottom of the lake."

I cleared my throat and Cara whipped around in her seat, guilt flashing over her features.

"I know you don't think I should do this," I said.

"You're right. I don't," she replied. "I think it's insane. But then again, if this is all in your head, then maybe the only way to cure you is for you to truly think that he is gone. If this is what it takes, then I guess it's your decision."

"I'm going to be there," Judah said, leaning over Cara to talk to me. "I'll be waiting. I'll drag you to the surface if I have to."

"Fine." Cara sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll be there too, even if it is only to make sure this insanity isn't the death of you."

I waved goodbye and turned to find Ruben by my side. I was used to his silent approach, but because of the recent topic of conversation, I was startled.

"Walk with me?" he asked. The sadness had returned to his eyes, marring them with rain clouds.

Chapter Forty Four

Judah - the previous year

Ruben's voice was desperate and strange. It sounded nothing like him. I looked at the phone in my hand, hoping that somehow it would tell me where he was. The lake was big. There were so many places he could be. The keys to my Fairlane were gone, so I popped my head into Ruben's room, looking for his. The bed hadn't been slept in, the curtains were open, letting in the wind and rain, and his keys were hung neatly on the rack. I grabbed them and ran down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet. Dad was away on business and Mum had had so many glasses of wine, she would have slept through an earthquake.

Ruben's car was the opposite of mine. It was modern and quiet and had heated seats. It beeped repeatedly as I backed close to the little wall surrounding the fountain, then sped down the driveway, the beam of the headlights cutting through the trees.

I don't know how I knew where to look. Maybe it was that twin intuition that people kept insisting we must share, or maybe it was merely because it was where 'it' had happened, but I pulled up beside the Fairlane and jumped into the passenger's seat. Ruben's fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his eyes focussed on the lake, hair in disarray and clothes soaking wet.

"I couldn't stay out there," he mumbled, without looking at me. "She was there."

"Ruben," I said, reaching across and touching his hand. He shied away from me, startled, eyes wild and hair plastered to his face. "Where have you been?" His clothes were drenched and his fingers were darkened with what looked like charcoal. "Where have you been?" I asked again.

He wouldn't look at me. He just stared out the window, through the streaks of rain and out over the lake. The scent of alcohol was heavy in the air.

"I can't get her out of my mind," he whispered. "No matter how hard I try, I just can't get her out of my head."

"Who?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Lana," he whispered reverently. "She's here. She's always here, watching me, judging me." He looked at me then, and a jolt of fear bolted through me at the vacant look in his eyes. "She's waiting for me. It won't be right until I'm like her."

"Stop it," I said, pulling his hands off the steering wheel.

He jerked his head my way. "Don't you get it?" he whispered hoarsely. "I can't. I tried and I can't. She wants me to be like her." His foot pressed down on the accelerator and the engine revved. "What happened to us, Judah? We used to be everything to each other. What happened? I needed you and you weren't there." Then his eyes hardened and he clutched the wheel tighter. "Get out," he ordered.

"But you called me." A ball of dread twisted at the foreign expression passing over him. "You wanted me here. I wasn't there for you before, but I'm here now. I'm listening now." I noted the bottle of bourbon rolling about the floor, the cap twisted on unevenly and its contents dripping.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked quietly.

"It's too late now," he said.

"No, it's not." I tried to tear his hands away from the steering wheel, but he gripped tighter.

"It's the only way, Judah. You'll be able to tell the truth, tell everyone that I killed Lana, not you. Cara will forgive you, everyone will know the truth, everything will be right again." He smiled sadly. "You've got to get out now, Judah. I'm sorry I called you here but I just needed to tell someone I was sorry. I figured that person should be you."

"It's okay. We can sort this out, Ruben. You just need to sleep. You just need to clear your head from all this. We can work it out together. The drink has affected your mind. You're not thinking straight."

Ruben laughed an empty laugh. "I didn't touch it." He reached down and picked up the bottle. "Care to share one with me, brother?"

I ripped the bottle from his hands and took a large gulp, hoping that somehow it would clear the thoughts in my mind.

"It's time to get out now, Judah," he said again. "You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving you. Can't you see what I've done for you? What I've let people believe in order to save you?"

"But you can't save me. Nothing can." Ruben looked down at the gear stick and shifted it into first. "It's time to get out now, Judah."

"No."

Ruben stared at the steering wheel. "You don't see her hands?" he asked. "They're no longer covered in blood, mine are."

"Ruben please," I urged.

The engine revved loudly. "Last chance," he yelled above the roar.

I shook my head. "I thought you wanted to confess," I said, desperately clutching at any line of reasoning I could. "I'll go with you. We'll confess together, you and me. Together. Brothers. Twins."

Ruben planted his foot down on the accelerator and the car lurched into motion, straight towards the cliff. The gravel spat behind the tyres and the acceleration threw me back against my seat. "It's okay," Ruben yelled, as the edge of the cliff neared closer. "Think of it as a baptism. We will come up clean."

"Ruben, stop!" I yelled. I reached across and wrenched the wheel to the side, steering our path away from the barrier arms that protected the cliffs.

Ruben jerked it back. "It's the only way to make her stop."

The car swerved towards the edge as we fought over the wheel. But it was too late. I couldn't stop him.

Time stood still as we lurched through the barrier and sailed through the air, weightless and airborne. Ruben smiled even as my hands were fighting for the steering wheel which no longer controlled the car. We jerked forward. My head smashed into the dash. The car plunged into the water. It poured through the cracks and soaked my feet. Ruben sat calmly as it rose to our knees.

"We've got to get out." I reached across and fumbled with his seatbelt, but Ruben covered my hand and shook his head.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"Ruben!" I shouted, mindlessly wiping the blood away from my head while winding down the window to ready my escape. "We've got to get out, now! Roll down your window!" I ordered.

The water reached the open windows and began to flood the car, but I still couldn't get his seatbelt to unhook. He sat still and silent as the water level rose. He watched me struggle. We locked eyes as the water passed our chins, our mouths, our noses, and my vision of Ruben blurred as we plunged underwater. Still, I struggled. I wrestled with the belt that had him trapped until I was able to free him, but he wouldn't move. He sat with little pockets of air trapped under his nose and eyelashes and stared at me blankly. I clambered out the window and rose to the surface, gulping in air before diving back down into the murky depths. By this time, the car was resting on the bottom of the lake. My lungs screamed, but I forced my way down further and further until I could reach him through the window. His eyes were open and his body bobbed in the water, his head bumping against the roof of the car. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him out the window. He got caught halfway and I had to let go and swim to the surface for another gasp of air. The rain belted down as I gulped another breath and dove back under the water. Ruben's hand stretched towards me, his eyes finally flashing panic as I fought my way down to him. He knew what he had done, but it was too late. The panic left his eyes to be replaced with a dull, blank stare. Eventually, I pulled his body to the surface and fought my way to the shore, dragging him behind me. I beat on his chest and breathed air into his lungs, but it was too late.

Ruben was dead.