Unraveling You 02 Raveling You (4 page)

“Who is that?” Lyric suddenly asks.

I track her gaze to a man wearing a tracksuit with a dog on a leash. He’s slowly walking down the sidewalk with his attention on my house, specifically focusing on the second story, right on my bedroom window.

“I don’t know. He’s probably just some neighbor wondering why we have a half-deflated Santa near the front door of the house.”

My thoughts laugh at me, whisper another story, remind me that it was my neighbors who took me into their home and broke my brother as well as my sister and me.

Sharp objects, have you forgotten?

All those days forced into restraints.

All the blood spilled across the carpet.

The stench of rust hanging in the air.

Trust. Trust. Trust.

How can you still be so naïve?

Lyric looks at me with concern. “Yeah, I guess so … but he’s not even looking at the front door. And I think I saw him earlier, too, and he looked like he was staring at your window.”

I squint through the darkness to get a better look at him: middle-aged, going bald, a beer gut, and what looks like a scar on his jawline. For a brief moment, I pause, trying to connect the guy to my past. But my effort is worthless. The people who kidnapped me are buried in the darkest parts of my mind along with the memories of what they did to me.

“He looks like almost every other guy who lives on the street.” My inner voice laughs at me again. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Even I don’t sound that convinced by my words, though.

“Maybe.” Lyric sounds doubtful. “Ay, I don’t want you to be upset with me for bringing it up, but… I was thinking about how those detectives said that maybe Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan should keep an extra eye on you until they can figure out who was behind…” She anxiously waits for me to say something. When I don’t, she tacks on, “Maybe we should mention something to them, just in case.”

My eyes wander back to the man and I realize the he’s looking right at us. I instantly stumble back into the shadows and pull Lyric with me. Then I position myself in front of Lyric to protect her from being seen.

“Do you think he can see us?” Lyric whispers, fisting the bottom of my shirt as she peers over my shoulder.

“Not now.” My body convulses with spasms as her knuckles graze my lower back, but she doesn’t appear to notice, too preoccupied by the man. “But I’m sure he did before we ducked back here.”

I observe the man from around the corner of the garage. He continues to stare in our direction, before finally fixing his attention back on my house. Then with a jerk on the dog leash, he scurries down the sidewalk toward the end of the block and out of sight.

 “That was weird.” Lyric steps around me, the absence of her warmth leaving me oddly cold inside. “We should definitely mention it to Aunt Lila.”

“Yeah, I guess we should. If you think so, anyway.” When I face her, she scowls at me. “What?”

“Not you guess,” she scolds. “You
will
tell her, or
I
will. I don’t care if it’s nothing. After … what happened, I’m not going to risk it, risk something happening to you.”

“There’s no use arguing with you, is there?”

“Nope. Not about this.”

“All right. When we get home from band practice, I’ll make sure to bring it up to Lila. Only for you, though. I’m not worried.”

Liar, liar,

all the time.

Worry dances in your mind,

round and round,

a broken record.

A song stuck on repeat,

singing through veins

as you lie restlessly in bed.

Liar, liar,

all the time.

Always worrying they’ll return,

and death will burn your skin again.

A few minutes later, when we’re satisfied the man isn’t going to return, we pile into Lyric’s dad’s 1969 Chevelle since the Challenger her dad bought her a little over a month ago is nowhere near ready to drive yet. Then we buckle up, turn on the radio, and Lyric slams the gas pedal down. The tires squeal as she backs down the driveway and onto the road.

“If you’re not careful, one of these days, someone is going to call the cops on you about your driving,” I tease as I relax back in the seat. Just being with her gives me a little bit of inner peace sometimes.

“If it happens, it happens.” She cranks the wheel and fishtails the car onto the main road with an up-shift. “I mean, what are my parents going to do, get mad at me? My mother’s gotten more tickets than I can count.”

“True.” I pick up the iPod from the dock and start browsing through the songs. “But they could—”

My phone vibrates from inside my pocket. I fish it out and swipe my finger over the screen to read the text message.

Lila: We need to talk about something important when you get home.

Me: Okay. What’s it about?

I grow anxious that perhaps she found out I met with a hacker tonight. I haven’t been punished very much by the Gregorys—I’ve tried to stay out of trouble as much as possible ever since they adopted me. I’m guessing with something as severe as illegal hacking, their relaxed approach at parenting would disappear.

Lila: I really just want to talk to you about it when you get home, not on the phone.

Me: Okay. I’ll be home in a few hours. Can you at least tell me if I need to be worried?

Lila: No, no need to be worried.

I start to put my phone away when another text comes through.

Lila: I don’t want you to worry all night, and knowing you, you will. It’s about the police. They want to talk to you again about your brother. Please don’t panic. I’m sure it’s nothing.

I probably should respond to her message, at least to tell her I’m okay, but I can’t think of what to say.

“Everything okay?” Lyric asks.

I concentrate on the song list again. “Yeah, of course.”

She watches me instead of the road. “Who was that text from?”

“Lila. She just wanted to let me know she needs to talk to me about some stuff when I get home.”

“Are you sure that’s all she wanted?”

I nod, unable to look her in the eyes, knowing she’ll see right through my lie.

Liar, liar, alone in the dark,

Hide the truth from your heart.

Lock your soul in a box.

Melt the key.

Set the box on fire.

And burn in into oblivion.

Let the ashes scatter the ground.

And never utter a sound.

Liar, liar, alone in the dark.

Lyric’s chest rises and falls, as if she’s struggling to breathe. “If you don’t want to tell me, then that’s fine. But just say so. Don’t lie to me, please.”

God, I’m the biggest asshole ever. I really am.

“The police want to talk to me.” The words are difficult to say.

Her gaze glides to mine and her grip tightens on the wheel. “When do they want to talk to you? Tonight?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so, but Lila didn’t say.”

“Are you… Are you going to be okay? I mean, with talking to them.”

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “I guess it depends on what they want to talk about. She said something about my brother, but I’m not sure if it’s details about his death or my”—I swallow hard—“memories.”

I think I already know for sure, though. Lila warned me the morning after we learned the news of my brother’s death that the police may want my help in solving his murder by remembering what happened those weeks we spent with our captors. They believe if I can remember than maybe I can help identify them.

If that’s what they want me to do… Well, I’m not sure I can handle it. I locked up the memories for a reason.

Dying flesh.

Ruptured heart.

Scars searing.

Flaming soul.

The touch of death

burns through my skin

and strikes at my bones.

Resuscitated and revived,

but not without sacrifice.

Close up my mind.

Forget what I saw.

What I heard.

What was done to me.

Remember and give up my soul.

Remember and submit to the pain.

Remember and wither away

into nothing.

Lyric

It’s been two days since I saw the strange man hanging out in front of Ayden’s house, and I’ve been working on a drawing of the guy just in case it’s needed. I don’t know why, but I have the strangest feeling that the man was more than a just a neighbor passing by.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping the last couple of nights because of the man. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in the tracksuit with his dog. The twisted part is that his outfit sometimes transforms into a cloak and the dog shifts into a scythe, and I’m suddenly staring at the Grim Reaper.

No more horror movies for me for a while.

I debate whether or not to tell Ayden about my dream. In the past, he’d have found it amusing, but with everything going on, I doubt he would anymore. He still hasn’t spoken to the police, nor does he know when he’s going to, only that it’ll be someday this week.

My family and all the Gregorys get together every year to decorate the tree. After we’re done, we’ll all go over to my house and do the same thing. It’s a strange little tradition that started during my first Christmas ever. Back then, though, Uncle Ethan and Aunt Lila hadn’t adopted any children yet.

The massive tree Ayden and I picked out sits in the center of the Gregory’s living room, trimmed and decorated with shiny silver and red balls that glimmer against the glow of the flames burning in the fireplace. Our parents are drinking eggnog in the kitchen and have already exceeded the tipsy point. Kale is eating popcorn and watching a Christmas movie while Fiona and Everson fight over who gets to put the star on the tree. Ayden and I sit in front of the computer doing a little research on his brother, ignoring the commotion going on.

He’d been so reluctant to even speak his brother’s name that I was honestly surprised when he brought out the computer and said he wanted to look up stuff on him. But I wasn’t about to ask him, too concerned I’d hit a nerve.

“I still don’t get why we’re looking this stuff up.” I skim read the paragraph on the computer screen. “Everything we’ve found out about your brother’s case online is the same stuff the police have told you, right?”

“Yeah, but it seems like there’s something else,” Ayden mumbles, clicking the mouse on the Page Back arrow. “Like why would he even go so close to the house in the first place. It doesn’t make any sense. Either he had to be kidnapped or his body was placed there for a reason.” His voice cracks and he quickly clears it.

“Maybe he was just there revisiting his past… Did he have amnesia like you?” I rest my chin on his shoulder then immediately regret it when his muscles constrict.

“Not that I know of.” Ayden taps a few keys. “But I didn’t really see him after we were taken out of the house. We went straight to the hospital and placed in the system not too long after.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, unsure why I feel the urge to apologize over something that has nothing to do with me.

“Sorry for what… it wasn’t you’re fault.” He twists around, causing my chin to fall off his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be apologizing for anything.” He sketches a finger across my cheekbone.

An evanescent contact of skin to skin, but my body still flushes with heat. I lick my lips—I don’t even know why. It’s not like I’m about to kiss him in the living room in front of everyone.

His breath hitches in his throat. “Maybe we should—”

“Hey, it’s my turn to put the star on the tree!” Fiona shouts, causing Ayden and I to blink. She plants her hands on her hips and glares at Everson. “You did it last year.”

“Liar. You did it last year.” Everson is holding the silvery star and reaches his arm up high. Fiona, being on the short side, jumps to get it, but misses by at least a foot.

 “Everson! Give me that star.” Fiona moves to tackle Everson and he dodges out of the way, laughing.

“Everson, you did put the star up last year,” Ayden intervenes without looking away from me. “Give the star to Fiona.”

Everson curses under his breath, shoves the star at Fiona, and stomps toward the doorway. “Whatever. She’s too short anyway. She’ll never get it up there.”

“I will, too!” Fiona shouts after him, glancing from the star to the tip of the tree.

Ayden sighs, sets the computer down on the coffee table, and gets up from the sofa. “I’ll go get you a stool,” he tells Fiona. “Hang on.”

After he leaves the room, Fiona reels around and faces me with a haughty bob of her head. “So, what are you guys doing on the computer anyway? Just seeing what was up with Ayden’s brother.”

“Sort of.”

“Well, you’re not going to find anything on the computer,” she says, chipping at a chunk of glitter on the base of the star. “Ayden’s just going to have to remember.”

Fiona’s always been on the strange side, so I don’t put too much thought into what she said. Instead I reach across the sofa to steal a handful of popcorn from the bag on Kale’s lap because I’m starving. With how tipsy the adults are, I’m guessing this night is going to end with takeout.

Kale’s eyes instantly pop wide as I bump his leg on my way back to the side of the sofa.

“Whoops. Sorry.” Curious to why he looks so terrified, I add, “You okay?”

He mutters a “yes” then tosses the bag onto the table and bolts out of the room like it’s on fire.

“What was that about?” I stuff a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.

Fiona shrugs. “He’s just weird. Like Ayden. We all are really.” She ravels a strand of her long hair around her finger as she gazes at the lights flashing on the tree. “I’ve always kind of wondered if Lila and Ethan did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?” Ayden inquires as he enters the room carrying a stool, along with two cans of soda.

“If Lila and Ethan purposefully adopted weirdoes.” When Ayden places the stool in front of the tree, Fiona climbs on and stretches her arm toward the top. With a slight sway of her balance, she gets the star on then jumps backwards off the stool. “There. Look at how pretty it is.” She admires the tree with a tip of her head.

Ayden returns to his place beside me, but doesn’t pick his computer up. He hands one of the cans of soda to me then pops the tab on the other. “I think I’m getting tired of researching.”

I tap my finger on top of the can before opening it up. “We can take a break, if that’s what you need.” I take a swig of soda, the fizz tickling my nose. “Anything you want to do in particular?”

“Want to go get your guitar?” he asks. “Then we can go upstairs and play for a little while.”

I grin a goofy grin. “You know the way to my heart, Shy Boy.” He really, really does.

I just wish I knew the way to his.

The next morning as I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the sun begins to rise and warm up my room, I try to think of a good present to get Ayden, one that will cheer him up.  Last Christmas I got him a signed album, but this year I want to get him something special. Something that will make him smile like he made me do yesterday when we’d spent over four hours last night jamming out to our favorite songs. It was a nice. I wish we could do that more often.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Lyric, I need to talk to you,” my mother says through the door with another soft rap. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah, you can come in.” I sit up in bed and stretch out my arms as she opens the door and enters.

She’s sporting a holey pair of jeans and a faded black shirt splattered with neon pink, yellow, and green paint. Her auburn hair is pulled up, and her phone is clutched in her hand.

“Man, since when did you become an early bird? You know that’s a sign of getting old,” I joke, glancing at the clock on my nightstand.

She smiles tiredly. “I have to get some pieces done for the art show in a few weeks. And I’ve been up all night, so technically, that doesn’t make me an early bird.”

I plant my feet onto the floor. “Nope, it just makes you a crack-head.”

She sighs her
oh Lyric
sigh.

“What?” I ask innocently. “Too early for jokes?”

“Or too late.” She sighs again. “Lila and Ethan had to take Ayden to the police station this morning, so you’re going to have to drive yourself to school today. And you need to take Kale with you.”

“Oh.” I fight back a frown. Ayden and I always ride to school together, and we stop by this little coffeehouse that has the best cappuccinos ever. Usually, he drives us in one of the Gregorys’ cars, although my parents occasionally allow me to borrow one of theirs when they’re feeling particularly awesome. It’s our morning ritual and I love it, just like I love seeing him. “Do you know when he’ll be back? I mean, will he be at school at all today?”

“I’m not sure. They weren’t sure how long they’d be there.”

“Do you know why they’re there? What they wanted to talk to Ayden about?”

“I didn’t ask.” She sits down on the bed beside me. “I figure it’s really none of my business unless Lila wants to talk to me about it.” Her stern expression presses that it should be none of my business, either, unless Ayden wants to talk about it with me.

Sometimes I feel like she knows more about Ayden than I do. I’ve overheard Lila whispering stuff about his past to my mom. I’m not sure what since they either shoo me away or leave the room themselves when they noticed I’m listening, and prying it out of my mother was impossible.

“I’m his best friend.” I pick at a loose string on the hem of my pajama shorts. “He should want to talk to me about it, but he never seems to want to.”

She pats my leg. “Unfortunately that’s not how it always works. Sometimes even best friends need to keep stuff from each other. At least until they’re ready to talk about it.”

“Did you keep stuff from Dad? I mean, back when you were best friends.”

Traces of remorse haunt her eyes. “There was a lot of stuff I didn’t tell him. I kept more from him than I wish I would have.”

I hug my knee to my chest. “Then why did you do it?”

She shrugs, uncomfortable. “I was afraid of what I would feel if I said stuff aloud. Afraid that your dad wouldn’t love me anymore if I told him everything about me.”

I rest my chin on my knee. “Just what kind of secrets did you have, Mom? You sound super sketchy right now.”

She shrugs again and her eyes well up. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s in the past is in the past.” Sucking back the tears, she stands up. “You can drive my car to school if you want to, but you’ll have to gas it up.” She starts to leave, dabbing her eyes with her fingertips.

“Mom, wait.” I spring from the bed and hurry over to her. “I’m not sure if I need to tell you this, but it kind of feels like I should, since I’m worried Ayden himself might not tell Lila or Ethan.”

I quickly tell her about the guy standing outside the house, giving her the details of what he looked like, and giving her the sketch I drew of guy the night I first saw him. I omit that Ayden snuck out for a while, not wanting to get him in trouble. He still hasn’t confessed what he was doing and I’ve given up on trying to get the information out of him. For now anyway.

“I’m glad you told me,” my mother says when I’m finished. “I’ll make sure to mention it to Lila. She’ll want to know about it.”