The Contradiction of Solitude(82)

My head was fuzzy. My breathing was labored. Painful. Survival was becoming difficult.

I should call Layna. I wanted her. I needed to see her.

We had so much to talk about.

But maybe it was good that we give it time.

To leave the words where they lay. In the dust and the grime. On the floor of that dilapidated old house where Layna lost her childhood. Her innocence.

Layna.

We can be broken together.

Maybe together, our pieces would make us whole.

I looked for my phone and then remembered that I had thrown it against the wall last night.

My jaw was stiff as though I had been grinding my teeth all night. I thought about going to find Layna. To drive to her apartment.

I couldn’t. I realized my car wasn’t even outside.

I vaguely remembered Layna bringing me back. In her car. After leaving mine at her apartment. But things from last night were so blurry. So hard to see.

It was best to wait anyway.

For her to come to me.

If she came to me.

What would I do if she didn’t?

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked round my dismal house. Dirty. Untidy. I hadn’t touched a thing inside in weeks. I had slept. I had eaten. I had wandered through the rooms unseeing.

I had been spending a lot of time in the company of phantoms.

And Layna.

I made myself a sandwich. It had been days since I had last eaten.

When I was finished I went out to the quarry and sat on the beach. I stared out at the murky, still water.

And I waited.

For Layna.

For Amelia.

I waited.

On pins and needs, I stayed.

Hoping she would find me.

Terrified she would find me.





“Are you going to leave me here?” Elian asked.

I had driven back to my apartment once we were back in Brecken Forest and had taken Elian home in my car.

I pulled up in front of his house—out in the middle of nowhere—and watched him get out. He was unsteady on his feet. I should have helped him inside.

But I wanted to get out of there.

I needed some distance.

From Elian.

From everything.

“Will you come back?” he asked and I wasn’t sure whether he spoke to me or his dead sister. The sister I had seen my father kill. The sister who called him every single night on his silent phone.

Would I come back?

Of course I’d come back.

But I had things to do first.

Important things.

“I’ll see you soon,” I said. Then I watched him wander towards his house and through the door. Closing himself inside.

It was time to pack.

The leaving was about to begin.

I had done this many times before. It was nothing new to fill the boxes. To tape them shut. To load them in my car and drive away. To a new place. A new life.

A new purpose.

However, things had changed.

Elian.

He was the point of all of it.

When I had searched for him, I had a plan. A very clear one.

Ingratiate myself into his world.

Get to know him.

Let him know me.

The parts that he wanted to see.

And then he would love me.

They always did.

There had been others before. There would be others after. None of them had mattered.

Elian was different.

It was because of her.

Amelia.

“Help me!” she screamed. Her green, green eyes pleaded with me. Amelia. Poor, poor Amelia.

She was mine.

Daddy had gotten her just for me.

Something had happened on the way to the end. Something that in all my planning, I hadn’t anticipated.

Love.

Or what I assumed was the elusive, indefinable feeling.

I had nothing really to compare it to.

Nothing healthy anyway.

I fell for the liar with the dancing green eyes. He had filled a corner of my lonely heart.

For a while.

But then he changed. He started to unravel. The game had altered and became something else.

I found him at his weakest. But he wanted to be strong. For me he would be everything.

Anything.

But he could only fail.

Because in the end, our hearts would never be enough.

I let myself into my apartment. My home for another few hours. I was happy to leave.

I dropped my purse on the counter in the kitchen and got myself a drink of water. I thought about Elian. What he was doing.

What would I find when I went back?

Would he be ready?

Was I?

I felt a familiar sort of longing in my gut and the buzzing in my ears.

Buzz…

“Layna, dear, are you in here?”

Mrs. Statham had bad timing.

“In here, Mrs. Statham,” I called out. No way to avoid it. She had to be dealt with. She wasn’t a bad sort. She just wasn’t someone who had any lasting impression.

She would be forgotten. Just like all the others that had come and gone. Secondary. Intermittent. Temporary.

“I brought you some more cookies.” The old lady stopped and looked at the boxes on the coffee table. She frowned. “Are you moving?”

I tried not to snap at her. I had to maintain the fa?ade to the very end.

“Yes, Mrs. Statham. I’ve decided to move home.” Almost the truth. Just barely.