Текст книги "Stalker "
Автор книги: Clarissa Wild
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
CHAPTER 2
PHOENIX
Age 8
“Kapoow! I’m the Phoenix and I’m going to kill you now!” I slam the action figure against the headboard, pretending it’s a giant alien ship coming to destroy the Earth. The hero Phoenix is the only one who can save the day, with his special laser gun firing from his eyes and his super strength, which can even lift the Earth.
I crawl under the sheets and leave Phoenix up, so he can walk over the edge and lift the sheets to unearth a deadly weapon; the giant human robot he’ll use to destroy the alien ship.
But then Phoenix is suddenly ripped from my hand.
“Hey!” I come up from under the sheets and see a boy running away, giggling. “Give that back!” I yell, jumping out of the creaky old bed.
The boy runs down the immense staircase of the old mansion, skipping stairs along the way, while holding my Phoenix high up in the air as if he’s proud that he stole it. He laughs and says, “Come and get it, stupid!”
I frown, grinding my teeth, and then run after him. Nobody touches my Phoenix. He’s the only toy I have. The caretakers only give us one toy each. It’s a stupid orphanage rule because there isn’t a lot of money. At least, that’s what they tell us. Sometimes I wish I had more toys to play with, or friends who don’t want to steal everything that belongs to me.
I rush after him, skipping stairs to catch up. He’s downstairs in the dining hall, trying to hide behind the other kids and use them like a shield.
“Give it back,” I growl.
“No, why would I? You don’t deserve it,” he says.
“It’s my toy. You have your own.”
“I don’t have enough,” he says, holding Phoenix with both hands, almost tearing off his head.
“Stop, you’re breaking it!”
“So what?” He pulls harder. “Are you afraid? Miles is afraihaid, Miles is afraihaid!” He’s chanting now, pissing me off so much that I want to hit him. Everybody starts laughing when they see my angry face.
“Miles is a loser!” The more he says it, the more the group joins in, and soon it’s all I hear.
I can’t take it anymore. I want my toy back, and I want them to leave me alone.
When my patience runs out, I push the kid he’s hiding behind so hard they both tumble on the floor, and then I grab the kid and punch his face repeatedly. The toy drops from his hand as he tries to block the attacks and prevent my fist from coming down, but I’m too quick.
“Fight, fight, fight!” the kids around us yell.
I keep punching and kicking, letting all my rage out on him.
“Stop!” he yells, but I pay no attention to his screams.
All I can think about is the blood pouring from his nose and the teeth flying around the room.
“Nobody. Touches. My. Toy,” I growl, hitting him in the face with each syllable.
“Please! Stop!” he begs, scratching my arms.
“I hate you!” I scream. “I hate all of you!”
I punch him so hard that my knuckles hurt, and I see red in front of my eyes. All I can think about is kicking his ass so hard that he’ll never be able to steal from me again. This is the last time that he’ll taunt me, the last time that he’ll tease me, the last time that anyone will ever try to hurt me again.
After a few minutes, the caretakers come and drag me away from him before I’m able to grab Phoenix. “What is this? How dare you assault a boy like that!”
“He stole my toy,” I say, folding my arms while staring at the toy.
“I don’t care what he did. You put your hands on him. We. Don’t. Punch. People.” She keeps tapping on my nose after each word, as if it’s supposed to impress me.
But all I can think about is killing the kid lying on the ground, bleeding, pleading for help.
The caretaker sighs roughly. “Here we go again.”
The whole room is quietly staring at me as she drags me out the door and up the stairs.
“You had to do it again, didn’t you? You just couldn’t keep your hands off him.”
“He keeps bullying me.”
“What did I just say?” she says, gazing back at me with a look that could kill. “We don’t touch other kids in here, Miles. You should know that by now. I guess it’s time for you to learn that lesson the hard way.”
She pushes me into my room. “I don’t want to hear any sound coming from here for the next few hours. Got that?”
I sit down on the bed. “But what about dinner?” I look at the clock, it’s almost six, and my stomach is growling.
She makes a face. “Bad kids don’t get food.”
And then she slams the door shut.
I run to the door, banging on it with my fists. “Wait! You can’t do that! I’m hungry!”
“Maybe you should try being friends with the kids first. Maybe then you won’t be so hungry,” she muses through the door.
“They don’t want to be friends with me. None of them do. They only want to tease me.”
“Maybe it isn’t them. Maybe it’s you,” she sneers. “No wonder your parents left you here.” She clears her throat, and then I hear her clicking heels as she walks down the stairs, leaving me upstairs all by myself.
My fingers scratch the wood as I sink to the floor. I try to think of happy things, but I come up empty. There’s nothing happy about this place, and I don’t remember a single day when I wasn’t in here.
Alone in my room, without a toy to play with and only the ticking clock as company, I waste away the hours of the day until I’m left wishing I wasn’t alive at all.
***
A few months later …
I ran away. I didn’t know what else to do after the kids pushed me down the stairs and the staff didn’t even bat an eye. I have nowhere to go, but I don’t want to go back there. I hate that place and everyone who lives or works there.
Nobody understands me.
My finger twirls through the grass and I rip it out of the ground and let it fly away with the wind. It’s so peaceful here in the middle of nowhere near this lonely road. Nothing for a few miles … all the world to myself. Love it.
This place is quickly turning into my favorite hiding spot. I don’t have to sit somewhere in a cramped, stinky corner to avoid being caught. I can just sit out in the open without anyone seeing me here.
But then a car suddenly zooms up at the end of the horizon, and I watch it come into view. Placing my hand over my eyes to block out the sun, I try to look inside as it passes by. I don’t see much, apart from two adults in the front… except for one little girl sitting in the back of the car, gazing at me with her bright eyes. She has the face of an angel.
And then it disappears just as quickly as it came, driving down that lonely road.
For a moment, I just enjoy the breeze, wondering who those people were and if I’ll ever have parents just like her.
Oh well, I’ll find out soon enough. Time to get back. They’re probably wrecking the whole place in search of me now. Or they haven’t even noticed I’m gone. Either way, I know they’ll be pissed.
So, I grab my bike and drive off onto the long and lonely road back to where I came from.
***
An hour later…
I’m sitting on the couch in the meeting room, waiting for someone to approach me, but all the potential parents give me the stink eye. I guess it’s because of the cuts and bruises on my face from getting in a fight again. I can’t help it; the kids here just won’t stop annoying me. It’s like they enjoy getting all up my back or something.
The caretaker comes up to me and gives me a side look. “Why aren’t you talking with them?”
“Well, I can’t just go up to them, can I?” I say.
“No, but you can at least present yourself a little more … appealing,” she says, clearing her throat. She always does that when she disapproves of me, so I hear it all day long.
“Try to put a little more effort into this, will you?” she says. “I don’t want you to be stuck here forever.”
I nod as she walks away to meet other potential parents with a fake smile on her face. What she actually meant was that she wants to get rid of me as quickly as possible because I’m a nuisance to this place, but she’ll never say that to my face. It was bad enough that she actually mentioned my parents to me, even though I don’t remember anything about them.
I guess that’s life. People just screw you over until you screw them back.
That’s my motto from now on, anyway.
With my hands folded on my lap, dangling my legs off the couch, I look at all the other kids talking with their potential parents, wishing someone was interested in me … enough to see past the layers of anger.
Sometimes, I wish I could be like those other kids. Happy. Normal. But I’m not, and I don’t know why. Every day, all I can think of is how to be smarter than someone else is. How to outwit them. How to win a fight. How to find someone’s weakness and use it to my advantage. I’m always so angry, and I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because of who my parents are.
Or maybe it’s because of what they aren’t.
Who knows? Nobody can tell, not even me.
I can tell one thing, though. Even if they don’t pick me now, one day I will make it out this place, and I will show everyone that I am worth it.
***
Present
The rain pounds down on my head as I push the shovel into the earth and dig deeper. The hole has become quite deep, enough for me to hide my body underground. In this obscure corner, behind the facility, I work to create a hole large enough to fit a few people … and to bring them to the other side of the fence.
It’s not too much longer now, only a few more weeks. Maybe months. But we’re getting there. It’s only a matter of time, and I have plenty.
Sweat drips from my forehead as I shovel away while DeLuca is on the lookout. He’s in front to make sure that nobody comes through this narrow gap behind the building. One of the officers has been bribed to keep quiet about our business here. That might be surprising to someone unfamiliar with prison politics, but like anyone else, even guards can be persuaded to turn a blind eye. As long as he doesn’t know what we’re doing and keeps everyone else away, he’ll be paid.
Not by me, of course. Oh no, if I had any money, which is fucking hard in this place, I still wouldn’t give it to some pigs. No, the company I work for pays him each week to keep his mouth shut and help us out. I suppose it’s because they want to ensure their assets are being taken care of. That and the fact I can’t kill for them while I’m in here is incentive enough for them to want me to break out.
I’m perfectly fine with that, of course. I’ll abuse any help I can get. Besides, it’s not like they’d leave DeLuca in this hellhole, so they’ve got two inactive people now … that’s no good for business.
Not that I care. I just want to get the fuck out of this place. I could give two shits about the company. Really, all I care about is the cash they send me after a completed job. I don’t care about any of them, except for maybe DeLuca … or maybe not. Like I give a fuck.
I don’t remember ever giving a fuck.
All I know is using and abusing people to my heart’s content. That’s what I know, that’s what I’m good at, and so I’ll stick to that. Keeps me sane.
When I’m done for the day, we place the rectangular plank on top of the hole and place the new grass on top, making it look like we recently maintained the yard. It’s a good cover for a place nobody looks at; plus, all the other guards think we’re keeping the yard clean and fresh. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
I’m working to get the hell out of this place, so I can finally have my revenge. Nobody tries to outwit me, and if they do, I’ll make sure they are punished for it. That woman, Vanessa Starr … she thinks she can beat me at my own game, but she hasn’t seen me at my best yet. She showed her cards, and now it’s time to show mine. When it comes to power, I come out on top. I’ll make sure to pay her a visit when I get out of this place. It’ll be too late before she ever sees me coming.
CHAPTER 3
VANESSA
Age 9
Running around with the other girls, playing a game of catch, I notice the boy sitting in the grass. He’s in the same spot where he always sits during the break, doing something all by himself. Every time I look at him, I wonder why he doesn’t try to make any friends. Maybe he doesn’t like games. Or maybe he’s afraid. I don’t know.
None of the other kids wants to come near him. They say his parents didn’t want him and that he’s dangerous because the orphanage he lived in kicked him out. I think it’s all lies because everyone else is afraid. But I’m not.
Somehow, that one day, I stop playing catch and decide to go over to him. I wonder if he’s really who they say he is. Maybe I’m just interested to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye. I want to give everyone a chance, even if others don’t.
I go and stand behind him, watching him play with the ants on the ground. He has a magnifying glass in his hand, but instead of just looking at them, he’s trying to burn them.
I kneel down beside him, and then he notices me. He almost falls to the side but manages to catch himself, his eyes widening when he looks at me.
“Hi,” I say, chuckling. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. It’s just me.”
“What do you want?” he asks, as if it’s a genuine question.
I don’t understand it. Does he think I want something from him? He must be expecting people only to talk to him if they want something from him. Poor boy.
“Nothing. I just want to know what you’re doing.” I give him a genuine smile, and he just gazes at me with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.
Then he starts prodding the ants with his fingers, crushing some of them in the process.
“You know, it’s much more fun if you let them live,” I say after a while.
He stops burning and smashing them and turns his head to me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to show him, like he wouldn’t even know how. I rub my lips together, trying to figure out what to do. Then I spot a caterpillar walking up a leaf, and I lean forward to grab it.
“See this little one?”
He nods, biting his lip.
“Well, if you let it live, it’ll transform into a beautiful butterfly.”
“Oh …” he says. Didn’t he know that? Maybe he just doesn’t pay attention in class. I wish I could do that sometimes … not pay attention without being punished.
I smile at him and place the caterpillar in his hands. “Give it a name.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Why?”
“It’s your pet now. You have to take care of it.” I laugh. “You have a responsibility now. You have to keep it alive. Otherwise, you’ll never see what it’ll turn out to be.”
“But you just said it would be a butterfly.”
“Yeah, but they’re all different. No one butterfly is the same. And if you don’t make sure he lives, you’ll never know what he’ll look like.” I wink.
“Oh … right.”
He looks at it up close, like it’s something weird. It’s just a bug, but I guess he’s only used to killing them instead of just watching them. No wonder the other kids are scared of him.
I pick up a leaf and hold it close to the caterpillar. “They need air and a leaf, of course. That’s what they eat.”
“Hmm … but where do we keep it?” he asks, putting it down on the leaf I gave him.
I mull that over for a second then take in a breath. “Oh, I know! Hold on.”
I jump up, clapping my hands to clean off the dirt, and run back inside the building, leaving the boy behind. I quickly run to the teacher whom I know has a couple of jars stashed in the supplies.
“Miss, can I get a jar so we can keep a bug?” I ask her with my cute voice.
“Of course, honey!” She takes one out and hands it to me. “Here you go. Now remember, they need air, so make sure you don’t cover up the holes in the lid.”
“Will do,” I say, running toward the door.
“Oh, and make sure you give them fresh plants!”
“Thank you!” I yell as I run out and back to the boy.
He has a wide smile on his face the moment he sees me, which surprises me. He’s not as scary as the other kids think. I think he just doesn’t know better, but I can help with that.
“Look,” I say, putting the jar down. I grab the leaf with the caterpillar and place it inside, closing the lid. “Now you can carry him around wherever you go.”
He picks up the jar and holds it up to gaze through it with one eye closed.
“You still haven’t named him, though,” I say.
He looks up at me with a bright smile on his face. “Miles the Second.”
“Miles the Second?” I chuckle a little.
“Yeah, Miles the Second.” He taps on the glass, probably scaring the little bug to death.
I muffle another laugh. He’s adorable. “I love it.”
“You do?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Hey … I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Miles.”
“Oh …” I blush. No wonder. It now makes sense that he named his bug that way.
“What’s yours?” he asks.
I hold out my hand. “I’m Vanessa.”
***
Age 10
With my legs dangling over the edge of the small wall near the playground, I sit and do my homework. The wind is blowing my dark brown hair in front of my eyes, so I have to slide it behind my ears every other second. Only after a few minutes do I notice Miles sitting in the grass only a few feet away. He’s on his knees with a magnifying glass in his hand, watching something on the ground. I watch him from my corner, curious to see if he’ll still burn them or not. I don’t know how long he’s been there or why, but I guess we both just like being in each other’s vicinity.
However, my parents told me to pay attention to my homework, and if I don’t have it all done by the time I get home, I’m sure I’ll get scolded. I don’t want them to be angry, so I’d best not get distracted.
I try to focus on my books instead of the boy, but then other kids flock around Miles.
“Hey, whatcha doing?” a redheaded kid says.
“Nothing …” Miles answers.
The kid frowns. “Yeah, you are.” He kicks the dirt. “You’re looking at the ants.”
The other kids are laughing. “Ants? Why? Is he that bored?”
“I’m not bored,” the boy says.
The other one folds his arms. “Oh, what then? Checking up if they’re okay?” He pretends to wipe a tear away, and then suddenly stomps his foot on the ground right where Miles was looking at. “Too late! Now they’re dead!”
All the kids burst out into laughter. “He’s stupid. So lame!”
“I’m not lame.” Miles looks up at them, and a certain glare in his eyes makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Suddenly, the redheaded kid punches Miles right in the face.
I close my book and place it on the edge of the wall before jumping down. “Leave him alone!”
The kids now turn their attention to me. “Oh, yeah? And what’s it to you?”
I come and stand between them and Miles and hold up my arms. “You want to hit him? You’ll have to go through me.”
“I’m not afraid of a girl …” the kid growls.
“You’re going to hit a girl?” the kids behind him say.
“Yeah, why not?” he says.
“You can’t do that!” they all say.
He takes a deep breath and sighs, looking me straight in the eye as if he wants to scare me away. But I’m not scared of any bully, and nobody threatens Miles.
“Let’s go,” he suddenly says, and he turns and walks away with the other kids.
I blow out a sigh of relief, closing my eyes for a second to calm myself down.
“Why did you do that?” Miles asks after a while.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Because they were bullying you.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t bullying you.”
“I don’t care. You’re my friend. Friends protect each other.”
“Friend?” he repeats, as if he can’t believe it.
“Yeah …” I smile and grab his hand, pulling him up from the ground. “Friends.”
He holds my hand, not letting go, even though he’s already standing up. It feels warm and … weird. I quickly let go of his hand.
“I have to go home,” I say.
“Why?” he asks. “Now?”
“Yeah, my parents want me to be home by a certain time,” I say as I grab my books and stuff them in my backpack.
He cocks his head. “Can I come with you?”
My lips part, but I have no idea how to say this without it coming across as rude. “No, I’m sorry.” I start walking and wave at him. “I’ll see you later!”
I couldn’t tell him the truth. My parents don’t allow any friends to come into the house … let alone those they don’t know personally. And they’d definitely not accept Miles. He’s too … strange for them. He has different habits, likes odd stuff, and he dresses like a chump. No way would they want him in their house.
The sun is already setting, so I have to get home quick, before my mother gets angry with me. She probably already is, since I’m not home five minutes before time. And my homework isn’t even finished yet … oh, god. Just the thought of coming back without it completed gives me the creeps. I hope she’s in a good mood today.
As I run down the road like a mad girl, not looking where I’m going, I bump into someone so hard I fall backwards onto the ground. “Ow!”
My backpack only softened part of the landing, but my butt still hurts. When I look up to see what’s blocking my path, my eyes widen and my jaw drops.
It’s the redheaded kid.
“Think you could get away with that?” he says, grinding his teeth. “Think again.”
“What do you want?” I ask, as I try to get up.
However, he places his foot forward. “Don’t get up or else …”
“Or else what?” I say, frowning. “You’re going to bully me, too?”
“Nobody gets in my way.” He points at his chest.
Then he attempts to hit me. I hold my hands in front of my face, expecting the blow to hurt. Suddenly, a loud roar emerges from behind a tree, and Miles comes rushing out. Where did he come from, all of the sudden, and why? Was he following me?
I don’t know what’s going on, but what I see terrifies me. It all happens in a flash. Miles hitting the redhead on the jaw, making him stumble backward. Miles punching his stomach so hard, the kid bends over and pukes. Miles shoves him until he falls to the ground and then jumps on him, punching him in the face.
“Don’t. Touch. My. Friend.”
He punches and punches, until the kid is bleeding from his mouth and nose. I scramble up to stare at them in horror as he keeps hitting, even after the kid is out cold.
Everything feels like a blur, until an older lady comes running toward us. “Stop!”
She takes out her cell phone and dials a number, I think it’s 9-1-1. Then she pulls Miles off the kid. “Stop it!”
I cover my mouth in shock from seeing the kid lying there in a pool of his own blood. Tears well up in my eyes as I look at Miles, whose face is completely red from anger and whose clothes are bloodstained. But the thing that strikes me the most is his eyes … those eyes, so dark, so violent … stone cold. Like the eyes of a killer.
***
Present
I chug back the tequila shot; the burn in my throat is a tiny distraction from my thoughts. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I should be long over him, and yet he keeps drifting back into my mind. That day when he beat up those bullies wasn’t the last time he’d lash out the way he did. So vicious and without remorse … I knew that day there was something about that boy, something different from anyone I’d ever known. He was cruel and unrelenting, like a beast without a leash.
And, to this day, I still wonder why he followed me. Was it curiosity that drove him to chase me? Or was it some kind of primal instinct, like he knew they were going to attack me instead? Was he there to protect me?
I don’t have the answers because I was too afraid to ask him about that day. I wasn’t even allowed to think about it, let alone him. My parents were pissed that I even attempted to be friends with him. I remember it like it was yesterday, the moment that the ambulance came to pick up the boy and I had to explain the whole ordeal to my parents. I had to tell my mother why there was blood on my shirt … and I had to tell her that I’d failed her. I hadn’t come home in time. I hadn’t finished my homework. I was hanging around with dangerous kids. At least, that’s what she called him. She called him many things, none of them positive, to make sure that I would never look at him the same way.
Because of him, I was punished. My parents sent me to my room with no toys, no friends, and nothing to do. For a week, they didn’t allow me to go out, except for school. All because I tried to be friends with that boy.
I guess it didn’t pay to be nice. To be kind. To try to make the world a little better.
It still doesn’t pay.
“Hit me up,” I say, beckoning the bartender to give me another drink.
“You sure?” he asks, frowning, as he dries a glass. “You’ve already had five.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
I give him my charming smile, which makes him put down the glass and pour me another drink. So easily manipulated. Like a puppet on strings. It always comes easy to me because I know how to use my best assets. That’s what my parents taught me to do, so I’d be successful. Or at least successful at finding a husband and manipulating my way through life. God, I’ve lied so many times just to get what I want that I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.
“Here you go.” The bartender slides the drink across the bar, which I catch and hold up.
However, right before I chug it up, someone clears his throat next to me, so I turn my head. I didn’t notice anyone sitting down, but the man in the seat next to me looks rather scary with his hoodie and his tattooed hands. I swallow away the lump in my throat as I gaze at him, wondering who he is and what he’s doing here. He just gives me this vibe that I can’t shake off, like I’m in danger or something … and he’s the cause behind it.
Or I’m just flipping out over nothing.
I throw back the last drink and throw down a few bills. “See you later,” I say, as I get off my stool, waving at the bartender as I leave the joint.
The cold air washing over me isn’t enough to quell my fear. I feel watched. Followed. Hunted. Everywhere I go, I think people are out to get me. I don’t even know who they are or what they want. Maybe that dude was just there to grab a drink like me, but with his hoodie and tattoos, he looked scary, so I fled the scene because of him. How pathetic. And yet I keep walking. Keep running away from the truth that I’m in deep shit.
The kind of deep shit that gets people killed.
And the worst part of it all is that I knew it was going to happen. I knew I had it coming for me, and I did it anyway. I did something horrible, and someday, I’ll have to pay the price. I’m just waiting for him to come for my head … Phoenix Sullivan, the guy I put in jail.
If only that was the sole thing I did to him.
I sigh as I walk back to my car and direct my driver to take me home. I’m so glad none of the fans saw me here, so I could have a drink at my favorite bar in peace. I really needed that, especially after what happened the day after my birthday. When I rub my face, I can still feel the bruise, even though the mark is no longer there … I’ll always feel it burn a hole into my heart.
When I get home, I wobble a little as I walk in the door. “Hey.”
Arthur just waves and glances at me, and then he returns his attention to the phone. “No, I told you it wasn’t for today.”
I don’t remember ever getting home and him not being on the phone. It’s like he doesn’t live anymore. Ever since he took over Phillip’s company, the one he makes all the movies with, things have been going downhill. He spends more time on the company than he can manage, and the two of us have no alone time. It’s like he’s wasting away in that company … I hate it. It makes me wish Phillip were still alive, just so he could be CEO again instead of Arthur. But that would also mean Phillip was still my husband, and I’d never be able to live with Arthur the way I do now.
I’ll admit that I always preferred Arthur to Phillip. I’m a bitch for not being sad over Phillip’s death, but that’s the way it is. Phillip was a cheating bastard, who couldn’t be loved by anyone but himself. Now, I’m together with Arthur, which is much better. Although, I’m not quite sure that this is what I wanted all along. I just kind of rolled into it.
I walk to him and wrap my arms around his neck, whispering sweet words into his ear. “Let’s go to bed, honey.” The words are a bit of a slur. After all those drinks, I feel a bit tipsy and ready for some much-needed action.
But Arthur pulls himself from my embrace and shoves my hands away. “Not now.”
I reach for his phone, trying to steal it away from him. “C’mon, you’ve been on that phone for far too long. I can tell. Come with me. You need to relax.”
He pries my fingers off and turns around with a deathly stare in his eyes. “I said no.”
I frown. “Well, excuse me for trying.”
“You can see that I’m busy.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Too busy to love your girl.” I sigh and take my heels off. “Just like every other day.”
He sighs out loud as he puts his fingers on the phone so nobody will hear him except me. “Vanessa … really? Do we have to do this now? I have no time for this.”
“I know,” I say, giving him a fake smile. “You never have time.”
“If this is about the other day, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up another day.”
“That’s what you always say.” I turn around and take the first step up the stairs. “But it never comes true.”
“Stop making everything about us,” he says.
“I wish you’d care more about our relationship.”
“I do,” he says. “Can we finish this conversation another time? This is important.”
“I know. Everything is more important.”
I sigh, glancing at him. He’s already turned around again and the phone is against his ear. “What has happened to us?” I whisper, but I know he won’t hear it.
I don’t mind that he doesn’t. Even if he did, it wouldn’t get through to him anyway. Not even if I shouted in his ears. The man has become blind to affection, just like his brother. Sometimes I wonder if we’re going down the same, dangerous path.
It’s happened before.
It only takes a snap of the fingers to repeat the same mistakes.
No matter what we do, this path always ends in death.
