We Told Six Lies(73)

“You went away,” I say. “And I’m the reason you’re not here anymore.”

The train flies by, and as the wind slaps against my face, I stand and watch the cars race past.

I try and count them, but I’m too dizzy. The world is going much too fast.

When it finally stops, I look down at where my brother’s body lies.

But it’s gone.

Of course it is gone, because it was never there to begin with. Not for a long, long time. I forgot his birthday. I remembered most things about him, but not his birthday. If I didn’t know it, then he couldn’t have known it either.

So many lies have been told since I met Molly, but the first of them, the last of them, was the one I told myself.

I know what I am capable of now.

I know I will not be the hero in this story.

I will not wear a cape and rush in to save Molly in the end.

No, I am the one who has taken her.

I am capable of anything, really.

If I killed my own brother, what would I do to a girl who planned to betray me?

My head snaps up.

I know where Molly is.

I know where I took her.





THEN


I remember a day with you, Molly.

Do you remember it, too? It’s one of many, not a particularly exciting day. We went to the train tracks, and I was surprised you wanted to go to my spot, because you always wanted to go to the park instead.

We sat on the tracks, and you seemed to be waiting for something.

“Do you ever think about things too much?” you asked as rain drizzled over your shoulders.

“Yeah,” I said.

You nodded and looked down the tracks again.

“I get sad sometimes,” you admitted quietly, and I could tell it was probably the hardest thing you’d ever said aloud.

“I know.”

You looked at me, surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

You smiled then. “No, you don’t, because I never get sad. I was just playing.”

I studied your face until your smile faded away.

“Sometimes I just hate myself,” you confessed.

I took your hand, but you wouldn’t look at me. You kept looking into the distance, waiting for something, and a wave of uneasiness crept over me.

“Hey, let’s get out of here,” I said to you.

But you shook your head, and tears filled your eyes.

“Molly, get up,” I ordered.

When you didn’t move, I grabbed you and hauled you into my arms. You wrapped your legs around me and kissed me and kissed me and took my mind and my heart straight into your mouth.

You bit my bottom lip hard enough that I pulled back, and I saw that you were smiling again. You just needed reminding that I was here, I guess. That you weren’t alone. You were always saying that—don’t ever let me go.

I used to think you meant to never break up with you, no matter how crazy you acted.

But now I think you might have meant something else.

You were looking for a way out, weren’t you, Molly?

On the other side of the world.

Or on the other side of this life.





MOLLY


Molly took the first step into the water, and Blue followed her out.

Blue gasped. Molly cinched her eyes shut against the sound, and then took another step. He matched her progression, but with each step, he gripped her hand tighter.

“I’m scared,” Molly said, because it was true. Oh God, how it was true.

She had to do this.

This was her only chance at surviving him.

And so she hauled her dress higher with her left hand and held firm to him with her right and took another step and then another. When the black water licked at her chest and his waist, she said it again. “It’s time to take it off.” After a moment, she added, “I won’t back out as long as you don’t.”

He lifted a hand to his mask and paused.

“Together,” Molly said as her teeth chattered.

Her body was numb in the frigid water, her shuddering breath filled with heart-pounding fear. Already, they’d been in the water too long. Much, much too long.

Blue released her hand and raised both to his mask.

Then, as the moon slipped closer, Blue removed his disguise.

“I knew it was you,” Molly whispered, but still, she could hardly believe it.

She dropped her head and released a muffled cry. Then, remembering what had to be done, she raised her eyes and reached for his hand in the water.

He raised a surprised eyebrow at her touch, like he was shocked she’d still touch him after seeing his face.

But she’d known all along, in a way.

She just wasn’t sure until this very moment.

“I don’t know which name to call you now,” she said.

Instead of responding, he kissed her.

And she let him. In fact, she may have kissed him back. She may have.

It was the least she could do, she thought, since she was about to kill him.





NOW


When I was a kid, we used to go to a lake house. I remember it because that’s where I killed my brother. It’s a perfect place to hide a kidnapped girl. Or a body. I can’t remember the address, though. How is that possible if I’d already taken her there?