The Contradiction of Solitude (28 page)

T
he Nautical Killer.

Cain Langley.

The man responsible for every bad, awful thing in my life was also the man responsible for my only happiness.

Layna. Beautiful, enigmatic Layna was the daughter of the man who killed my sister.

Amelia James.

“Stretch your fingers, Elian. Like this.” I watched my older sister as she easily moved her fingers along the fret board. Music flying from the tips. Melody filled my ears.

I loved listening to her play. She was someone else when she picked up a guitar. She wasn’t so mean. She didn’t yell or scream. She didn’t tell my parents that she hated them. She didn’t cry and say she wished she were dead.

And she didn’t scare me with her threats to leave.

All of the tumultuous, angry things disappeared when she sat the guitar in her lap and played.

And when she played for me and tried to teach me the notes that to her were as natural as breathing, we could pretend we were content with the lives we had been given.

“I’m trying, but I don’t have freakishly long fingers,” I threw back at her, no sting.

Amelia rolled her eyes and ignored me. Forgetting to teach me. Lost in her own world.

And I was happy to let her go.

This time.

She was pulling farther and farther away. One day she’d be so far gone I would never be able to reach her.

But for now, she was here, playing her music. This moment was all we had.

I hadn’t played a guitar since I was twelve. Not a note. But I made them for
her.

For
Amelia.

Slashed throat.

Missing hands.

A face barely recognizable after weeks of decomposition.

Amelia had been left—alone—out in a field. Far, far away from our home.

On the outskirts of a tiny town in Maryland. I couldn’t remember the name.

A piece of hair. That was it.

That’s all it took to link my sister’s murder to the man who had terrorized a nation.

The Nautical Killer.

Her name was added to a list. Just another lost woman he was accused of killing.

His face, impassive, unconcerned in that courtroom, never registering the name of the girl that had broken my family’s heart.

She wasn’t a name. She wasn’t a person.

Not to him.

She was body parts severed.

She was blood spilled.

She was easy prey.

To Cain Langley she was
nothing
.

To me she was
everything
.

I didn’t want to remember.

But my mind wouldn’t let me forget.

I had seen him.

Not so much his face.

But the tattoo.

And the car that he had driven that day. The day he had taken my sister.

Far.

Far.

Away.

The star. Etched on my brain.

A part of me.

I wanted to forget.

I had to.

That’s why I ran.

Away.

But not far enough.

Fuck the universe.

Fuck fate.

Fuck whatever gods threw that beautiful, beautiful woman in my path and made me love her. She was everything I longed for. She was everything I had ever desired. She was complicated. She was a mystery. She was depth and intensity behind coal black eyes. I was drawn to her from that first day.

Of course I was.

She was the type I had always made sure to stay away from.

The type of woman I had always known, instinctually, would obliterate me. And obliterate me she had. Smashed, cracked pieces and twisted, shredded promises. She was my all.

She. Was. My.
All
.

But she could never belong to me. How could I lay claim to a soul that was connected to
him?

My head was too full, and my heart was too empty. Fading. Fading. Falling away. I was losing Elian Beyer. He was slipping into the mire, and I couldn’t catch him.

Gone. Going. Lost.

How could I be with her knowing what I did?

How could I stay away?

Knowing what I did.

I had left Layna’s house last night with no answers. No idea of how we were going to deal with this hand we were dealt. No answers. No clues.

How could I stay?

How could I leave?

The call came late as expected. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. How could I tell her about what had happened? How could I ever explain the mess I had gotten myself into? She’d be so disappointed. She’d be angry and disgusted. But I also knew that maybe, just maybe, she’d understand.

She wanted me to love.

And love I did. I loved an illusion. I loved a nightmare.

I’m Here. Always.

The text had come just as it did every night before. And I felt the comfort in her consistency. The reassurance in her affection.

But now I was faced with another day. Another lie.

“Isn’t this the weekend of your brother’s anniversary party?” George’s question came out of nowhere.

I was working. At least I think that’s what I was doing. I looked down at the wood in my hand and saw nothing. No shape. No idea of the instrument I was supposed to create.

“What?” I asked, barely hearing him.

I had come into the shop as I always did. But I talked to no one. I couldn’t. The every day life I had painstakingly created for myself was quickly becoming
not enough.

Not when my head was
elsewhere
.

“Don’t leave, Amelia. Don’t go with him,” I begged, trying to reach for her. I could see the star on his arm. It burned brighter than the sun.

I knew that when she left, she’d never come home again.

That this time was different.

George frowned. “Your brother. His ten-year wedding anniversary. You put in for the time months ago. Did the plans change? Are you not going anymore?”

Plans I had made months ago were completely insignificant now. It seemed ridiculous to continue to live this life of no substance.

What was the point?

What was the purpose?

It wasn’t real. No matter how easily I played the part. Who cared if people thought I had a brother? And happily married parents? And a childhood spent delivering newspapers and playing high school football?

Who was Elian Beyer?

He was nobody.

“Uh. I’m not sure.” I was fumbling. I was hesitant. My stories couldn’t keep up with the fallacy.

I got to my feet, grabbing my almost empty pack of cigarettes. “I need a smoke.” George’s frown deepened. Tate was watching but pretending like he wasn’t. I stared him down, letting him know that I
saw
. Stan and Nathan stayed busy, heads down.

Margie never bothered to look my way anymore.

It was just as well.

Their opinion was no longer something I cared about.

I didn’t care.

“Well, just let me know by the end of the day. If you’re not going away, I could use you in the shop,” George said but I had already started walking away. Outside. Away.

No one followed. No one joined me.

I was alone.

I lit my cigarette and walked down the narrow alleyway towards the front of the building. I stood on the sidewalk, staring across the street toward The Lion and the Rose Bookshop. I knew she was inside. Somewhere.

I knew her schedule. Had it memorized. Her whereabouts weren’t a mystery.

But everything else was.

I had spent years looking for that indescribable thing that would make all the pain worth it. I had thought living my version of a normal life was it.

It really wasn’t.

Was it Layna?

I knew the answer deep inside.

Of course it was.

I thought I had been trying to forget. Perhaps I was only trying to remember. Being with Layna made it easy to recall the things I had shoved deep, deep down. Into the darkest recesses. Into the shadows.

“Hold my hands, Elian. I’m going to spin you around,” Amelia laughed, linking fingers. Pulling me to my feet.

I was just a boy but I knew what love felt like.

It was this.

My sister.

“Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies.”

“Ashes. Ashes. We all fall…”

“Down!” Amelia cried, yanking on my hands. We crashed. We toppled. We fell.

Into a heap on the ground. Laughing. Singing.

Together.

“Elian, dude, can I talk to you for a minute?” Tate walked down the alleyway towards me and pulled a cigar out of his front pocket.

I turned back to look across the street. Towards Layna. Towards the monster that called to me.

“Again, Amelia! Again!” I squealed. My tired, seven year old arms held out for her to take.

“Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies…”

Sun. Cloudless skies. Young and true.

I smiled. Full of honesty.

Simple memories making me shine.

“We’re worried about you, man,” Tate said, sucking on his cigar. The brown tobacco leaves wet with his saliva.

“You’re worried,” I said dully, pulling on the cigarette. Smoking to the filter.

“Yeah, you’ve been completely AWOL for weeks. You never come by anymore. When you’re here, you don’t talk to anyone. What’s up? I know I can be a bit of a dickhead, but you can talk to me, man. We’re friends.”

Friends.

Lies.

“Sure,” I muttered, the cigarette still smoldered but the smoke was gone.

“Is it Layna? Are you two having problems?” Tate asked.

Problems?

All we had were
problems
.

“I’m going away, Elian. I’m leaving and never coming back.”

I stared at my sister and saw a stranger. I didn’t know this girl with her angry face and hateful words.

I had lost her a long time ago.

“Then leave, Amelia. Just stop making everyone miserable,” I yelled. Not caring. I didn’t care at all. I was twelve. Time together was infinite. Ending wasn’t possible.

Amelia looked shocked. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away. Smearing them on her fingertips. Crushing them dead.

“Fine, I will! He’s promised me a new life! A better one! He’s going to make me a star!” she screeched, and I just wanted her to stop.

Ring around a rosy…

We weren’t children anymore. Our pockets weren’t full of posies.

“Don’t talk about her,” I warned. Meaning it. I hated the sound of Layna’s name on his lips.

“That’s what I’m saying, dude. You’re—
weird—
about her. I’ve never seen you like this before. And I’ve known you for a long time.”

No he hadn’t. He hadn’t known me nearly long enough.

“You don’t know me at all, Tate,” I said, being the most honest I had ever been with him.

Tate looked stricken. Like he didn’t know what to say. I should feel bad. I should feel horrible. And I knew the guilt would come.

It always did. I felt it for a thousand different things. Some more deserving than others.

And I didn’t want to hurt the people I had called friends.

“I’m his daughter. He’s my father. We are one and the same.” Layna’s eyes, sad and resigned.

Father. Daughter. The same.

They weren’t. I knew that. I could see how much she didn’t want that to be true.

The star. Burning in my mind. The last time that I saw Amelia.