The Contradiction of Solitude(53)

Elian let go of my arm and wrapped himself around me. Touching. Always touching. As though he couldn’t stand the air having more contact with my skin than he did.

He embraced. He enveloped. I was squeezed and contained.

His.

His.

“Amelia and Elian James,” he whispered into my hair and I smelled him. I drank him in. His pain. His misery. His open vulnerability.

“Amelia and Elian James,” I murmured, my cheek pressed against his chest. His heart thudding beneath my ear.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“I saw him, you know.”

I pulled back and looked up at my anguished man. My brows knitted together in question.

“You saw who?”

I knew.

I knew.

“Your father. My sister’s killer.”

I couldn’t inhale. Exhale. My stomach cramped and I felt ill. “You saw him?”

Elian dug his hands into my hair and tugged as he dragged them through the long, long strands. I winced. The sharp bite of hair pulled from scalp making my eyes water.

“She ran from the house. She was so angry all the time. She fought with my parents constantly. She stopped being nice to me. I thought she was just being a bitch. I told her to leave. To never come back.” He choked and heaved. He shuddered and sobbed.

I held him. I took his tears for my own.

“I chased after her. I wanted to make it right. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry. I didn’t want her to leave. I had a bad feeling…”

His body shook and I felt the wetness in my hair. I couldn’t look at him. His story was mine. We were linked in a way too horrible. A perfect, beautiful bond that would never be broken.

Because of my father.

Because of him.

He had given me so much.

He had taken almost everything.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped, my throat felt tight. Hard to breathe.

“Don’t apologize for him! Don’t you ever, ever apologize for that monster!”

Slit throats. Severed hands. Blood. Blood. Everywhere.

The buzzing. Filling my ears.

Buzz…

“And then they found her,” I finished for him.

“And then they found her,” Elian said.

No words. Just breathing. Just beating hearts. Empty. Fully. Thump. Thump. Thud.

Amelia James.

I let Elian hold me as close as he wanted to. As close as he needed to. Pulling me in. Keeping me safe. Away from the monster.

The monster was already here.

I slowly, ever so slowly, tiptoed fingers up the back of his shirt. Touching skin. Branding flesh. Pushing hard. Piercing low. Up and over the star.

The colorful, despicable star that we shared.

He shivered beneath my touch. Flinching. Recoiling. Then leaning closer. Not close enough.

“They brought her home to Pennsylvania. My father had to go to the morgue to identify her body. He didn’t recognize her face. The animals had gotten to her. He only knew it was Amelia by the bracelet she wore. A piece of guitar string with a silver pick engraved with her name. I had given it to her just the year before.”

He stopped. Then he started. Sentences. Words. Flowing free.

“I didn’t leave home right away. I felt like I was stuck in purgatory for years. But then my dad died, and I just couldn’t—”

He stopped. Teetering. Windmill arms. Trying to stay upright.

He shook. He was falling. Head over feet. Not in love. But in hate. With the blood that ran through my veins.

“I have a new story to tell you. Do you want to hear it?” He ran his fingers through my hair and I closed my eyes. Daddy had been gone a really long time. Almost three weeks.

He came home after Matty and I had gone to bed, but I heard Mommy yelling. She never yelled at him. But she was this time. Shrill. Loud. Not even trying to be quiet.

I got up and crept to the top of the stairs and listened. I wanted to scream at her to stop. She had no right to yell at Daddy! I hated her!

She was crying. Wanting to know where he had been. Why he hadn’t called. She thought something had happened to him.

Then there was a loud crack, and I gasped, covering my mouth. A small squeak and I was heard.

“Layna, what are you doing up?” And there he was. My father. His cheek was red, the shape of a handprint, but he smiled.

His secret, wonderful smile that was just for me.

Only for me.

Not for Mommy. Or Matty.

For Layna and Daddy.

Our smiles.

Our secrets.

Our stories.

“Yes, Daddy. I want to hear it,” I said softly, feeling myself sinking into sleep. Daddy was home. I was glad.

“There was a special young girl. She had love in her heart and dreams in her eyes. She had a family that cared but not enough. Not enough to keep her safe. They were more concerned with their own dreams. There own lives. They didn’t see her slowly fading away.”

“That’s so sad, Daddy.” My bottom lip quivered.

My dad kissed the top of my head and chuckled into my hair. “Is it, Layna? Do you really think that’s sad? Don’t you think it’s wonderful that because her family ignored her, she was able to find something better? Something greater? She became a star, Layna. And that’s the greatest thing a girl like her could be.”

“Can I be a star one day, Daddy?”