by Nicci Harris
This unfortunate event was what caused us all to go back to the hill, to say goodbye to Liz, and finally have closure. We each wrote her a little goodbye letter, and after we read them aloud we swore that from that day forward, we would let her go forever and move on. My mum was all about therapeutic closure, and that was what we had, a closing to her chapter. I was kneeling on the wet grass at the foot of her tree as we read our last goodbyes and cried.
Erik found it hard to understand why we were saying goodbye indefinitely and why we needed to create a new life without her past. Liz was his first sibling, his first responsibility. After reading his letter aloud through tears, he ripped it up and let the breeze scatter his words across the world. Those words could never be lost to the wind, though. We both remember them as clearly as the day he said them.
Dear Liz,
Do you remember the first time you cried, and I cuddled you? The first time I cradled you in my arms and cried with you? You wouldn’t stop apologising. I couldn’t understand why you were sorry for crying. From then on, I would cry whenever you cried. Because you should know that it is okay. It is okay to cry, Liz. My crying meant you could cry as much as you wanted to. I am sorry I couldn’t save you. I am sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I am sorry you had to cry alone for so long. You will never ever have to cry alone again.
Erik
My father always wanted a daughter. My parents tried and tried for years. No one could love a little girl with more selflessness than that man could. Although it was never his fault, he blamed himself for not being able to control events that were uncontrollable. My father’s letter remains in Liz’s box, buried beneath her tree.
Liz,
When you became a part of my life, my life became worth something. I became a father to a little girl. A girl who needed me more than I thought someone could possibly ever be needed. Being needed by you has made me worthy of life. I thought I knew what love was, but there is nothing in this world, or in death, that makes me feel anything close to what your love makes me feel. You loved me when I was a bad father, when I failed at work, when I failed as a husband. What I ever did to deserve you as a daughter, I will never know.
The first time you told me you loved me, was the first day I ever cried. Do you remember it? You had lost control of your little bike and it was racing down a hill. I could hear you screaming. I still wake up sweating some nights thinking about that sound. I was helpless. I couldn’t help my little girl, couldn’t protect her, couldn’t find her, and that was my number one priority: to protect my little girl. I had failed.
When I finally found you, you were grazed and bleeding. You were such a brave little thing, there was not a tear to be seen. Your little pink bike pants were ruined, your helmet was cracked, and you looked at me with such disappointment in yourself that my heart broke. I cuddled you ’til you told me to stop and I cried. I cried because the thought of you hurting was more painful than anything else I had ever experienced before. When I cried, you told me you loved me. So, I cried again. Your love is worth more to me than all the love in the world. You were such a beautiful, gentle soul, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Liz. I was too late to protect you. It won’t happen again.
Daddy
My mother was a saint. She never asked for anything in return for her lessons and love. A little bit of the world’s beauty died when she did. My mother held me in her arms that day we said goodbye to Liz at the foot of her tree. My back was to her and she held me against her chest and kissed the top of my head. No one understood why we had to do this more than her. My mother's letter is in Liz's box also.
Liz,
People say there are no words to describe the love a mother feels for her child. I tend to disagree. There are many. The real issue is that these beautiful, lavish, emotive words are far too often used in vain. The words I would use to describe my love for you are: unparalleled, unbounded, unbreakable, unconditional, immersive, miraculous, invigorating, immeasurable, FOREVER.
My love for you is unparalleled to anything I have ever felt or ever will. My love for you is unbounded and limitless, and it grows every second. My love for you is unbreakable, indestructible, and invincible. My love for you is unconditional, of your actions, or words. My love for you is immersive; it controls and seizes my soul and heart wholly. My love for you is miraculous, and it was born in pain and heartache and flourished into a presence of undeterminable beauty. My love for you is invigorating; it makes me want to be the person you think I am; it makes me want to be a better person. My love for you is immeasurable, and it holds too much weight and too much strength. My love for you, little girl, is forever. Forever and ever. I love you.
Mum xo
Then there was my letter.
To Liz,
Goodbye, Liz.
Blesk.
Today I broke my promise. I came back. I swore I never would and never intended to. But I didn’t come back for Liz, though. I came back for him. And because I didn’t know where else to go.
I hold my breath while I brush the leaves off the hatch and swing it open. It flies back, pent-up with over a decade of concealment, releasing years of dust and eerie darkness, sucking in fresh air to mingle with its demons. For a few moments I only look down. I know what walking down those steps will do to me. The numbness has already set in.
As my feet take me down without consent, I’m surprised when I need to duck my head as I cross the threshold. It’s quiet. The room is windowless. Except for the big barred cage in the corner, it is empty. The deafening silence is suddenly filled with ringing, and it takes me a few moments to realise it’s my phone.
“Elise?” My own voice sounds foreign.
“Oh. My. God. Blesk! Where are you? Everyone is so worried. Jaxon and Konnor have been all over campus looking for you, and then when you didn’t come home . . . It’s 6:00 a.m. Where did you sleep last night?”
“On the train.” Although I hold the phone pressed tightly to my ear, her voice sounds so distant. It’s this box under the ground. It seems to separate everything inside it from everything outside. I take a seat on the fifth step—my favourite one. The concrete is cold on my thighs, but it isn’t the literal cold that has me shivering.
“On a train? What do you mean? Where are you?” She sounds panicked.
“Ummm.” I try to snap myself out of my trance. “Konnor was looking for me?”
“Oh my god, Blesk, seriously? Of course he was looking for you. He lost it. You just ran off. He looked for you everywhere, like a mental patient. He got really drunk and ended up knocking himself out when he fell over. Jaxon is with him now. Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”
I gasp and cover my mouth, thinking of Konnor passed out on the floor. “I’m sorry.” The words are not enough. They never will be.
“Sorry?” Poor Elise sounds so strange and confused. “We don’t care. Please just tell me you’re safe. When will you be home?”
“Erik is coming to get me.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Jaxon.” Elise pauses for a long time, and f or a few moments we listen to each other breathing hard. “Blesk?”
“Yes?” I whimper.
“What’s going on? You walked away with Konnor and then ran off. Did he do something? Did he hurt you?”
I draw a sharp breath in and release it slowly. “No, Konnor didn’t do anything. Maybe one day I'll explain, but not today.”
“One day? So, it’s something bad, hey? Okay, I’m not gonna pressure you to tell me anything. I will be there for you, though. Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”
“That sounds really good, Elise.” I know my voice is unconvincing, but I really mean every word of that sentence.
“I’m small, but I’m scrappy. I’d kick Konnor’s arse if he hurt you!”
“It wasn’t anything Konnor did.”
“When will I see you?”
A small sigh escapes me. “I don’t know, maybe tomorrow.”
“Seriously
? Don’t shut me out. I know I’m a new friend, but I don’t care. I want to be there for you.”
“Tomorrow. I promise, tomorrow,” I state with more conviction.
Elise sighs, and then tries to lighten the mood with her Yoda impression. “Best friend Elise has.”
“Best friend Blesk has,” I say, hanging up the phone and curling up on the step to wait for Erik.
✽✽✽
“Blesk?” I hear Erik’s voice spill down the stairs. The time that’s passed is vague, however, I’m almost certain I haven’t moved. For him to be here already, it must have been at least five hours since I spoke to him. I check my phone: 10:38 a.m.
“Shit, Blesk, I told you not to go in.” The scratch of the dirt rubbing between his shoes and the steps grows nearer. Before I even raise my head from the cold concrete he has me in his arms.
“I’m okay,” I say, as I’m pulled protectively into his chest, his hand stroking the back of my head. He smells like home, and is warm and nurturing in his movements, rocking me back and forth. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh,” he hushes me. “Don’t, Blesk, it’s fine. I don’t understand why you’re back here, but it’s fine."
Erik holds me against him, and I begin to cry.
“Thank you." My shoulders tremble, and his embrace tightens in response.
As my tears fall onto his chest and soak his shirt, he begins to cry, too. My heart aches for every bit of sorrow I cause him. He loves me. I’m never going to be worthy of it. Although I think he loved her more. I pull away from him and look up into his reddened eyes that look both sleepless and in anguish. His cheeks are flushed and wet, like mine.
I’m sorry, Erik.
“I love you.” I hold his stare and he holds mine. “I’m sorry to put you through this again.”
“Blesk, why are you here?” His brows knit into a serious line.
I look up at him through pools of tears. “It’s Konnor.”
His arms around my back stiffen unnervingly. He grips my hips and pulls me away so that he can inspect my face, scrutinise it even.
“What about Konnor?” The depth of the creases between his furrowed brows, and the tightness of his grip on my hips, caution me. I subtly try to shake him off, but his fingers are unforgiving. His eyes seem to dilate, filling with nothing but black. “I know you spent the night with him,” he hisses, a different tone for him to use with me.
“So, we went out on a date,” I say, defiantly.
A callous look tightens his face. “Oh. Right. A date.”
“Why are you doing this now?” I ask. “Please don’t do this now.”
“I hate that guy.” He cups my face with his hands. “He’s a total dickhead.”
I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me. “Erik don’t do this now. Not here.”
“What did the dickhead do to make you go off the deep end?” His eyes make me squirm.
We’ve been here before. On Erik’s eighteenth birthday we had a big party at our house. It was a humble affair in many ways. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but Erik always had a lot of friends. There was one of his acquaintances, Max Butcher, who always seemed to be at the crux of every disturbance. Max ran with a dangerous crowd, and it was no secret that he was involved in less-than-legal endeavours. It was always imperative to keep Max Butcher happy, as he had three brothers all just as popular, with just as much charm, but with the command of a nasty crowd.
Max wasn’t a bad guy; he just wasn’t used to people saying no to him or telling him what to do. Max showed an interest in me that night, and I wasn’t going to be the first girl to say no to Max Butcher. I was young and he was gorgeous. When Erik caught us making out on my bed, he went ballistic. He lunged, throwing his fist into Max’s jaw. Max grunted. Then he stood, towering at six foot four inches and laid Erik out across the carpet where he kicked him over and over until Erik stopped moving.
Max left Erik bleeding, went downstairs, and resumed drinking all of our alcohol. Once again, my silly immature actions had taken a toll on someone I love. I knew what would happen. I get people hurt. Erik has never been okay with a single guy I’ve shown interest in. Although there are other reasons for his possessiveness, but I try to lock those away, and I do. That is until moments like this.
“Erik, don’t,” I plead.
He leans into my ear, and as his breath slides down my neck I shudder. “Tell me what he did to you, Blesk.”
I pull away from him again, but he moves his hands down to grip my arms sturdily in front of him. “Let me go! What’s gotten into you?”
My breathing feels strained. He keeps me captive next to his chest. “Blesk,” he hisses. “I spent last night with Pembie.”
My eyes widen. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been saying to him. “Erik, whatever—”
“Shut up for a second,” he snaps. “She was really upset. She told me she found you in his apartment. And that you spent last night with him as well.” I keep tugging gently away from him, but he seems to be moving in closer and closer to me.
As his cheek touches mine, he purrs, “Has he been inside you, Blesk?” The chill in his tone all but stops my heart. I whimper and try more forcefully to get away from him, tugging and pulling, but his fingers just sink deeper into my skin. “I swear to God, Blesk, if you let that dickhead inside you, I’m going to lose my shit.”
Struggling in his grasp as I desperately fight back tears, I begin to beg, “Erik, don’t talk to me like that… please.”
I gasp when he pulls me up into his arms, picks me up and cradles me against his chest. He walks me down to the bottom of the chamber. “Erik!” I scream at him. “Put me down!” Then my back hits the floor, and the unforgiving surface knocks the wind from me. He covers my mouth with his hand and I try to scream but can’t, and he’s coming down on top of me, crushing his body against mine, holding me captive below him. I can hardly breathe.
Tears drip down my cheeks. I blink through them and try to search the man on top of me for a glimpse of my brother.
“Shhhhhhh.” His brown eyes drill holes into mine. “Blesk, I’m not going to hurt you. God, I love you. You know this. I would do anything for you. I have. But I know you won’t listen to me unless you feel this again. How good this feels.”
My eyes are so wide they are almost protruding my face, and I want to scream so much, but I still can’t. He uses his hips to force my legs apart, kneading his pelvis into me, and the sudden taste and heat of bile fills my throat. I clasp my eyes shut, not wanting to see his face, not wanting to see the chilling look in his eyes.
He nuzzles into the crook of my neck and slides his tongue up the column of my throat, his breath slithering over me. A shudder snakes up my spine. I begin to sob.
“Blesk, see how good this feels. Please don’t cry, Bebe.” His hands are everywhere. All over my chest, squeezing me. Running down my thigh. His pelvis is rocking into me, his erection pushing hard between my legs. “God, no one else gets me this hard. Ever...”
My hands scrabble against the floor at my sides, digging my nails into the concrete until they hurt. “See, it’s you and me. It will always be you and me.”
My dress is lifted around my waist and the only thing separating me from him is my underwear. I feel his groan vibrate through my chest and wish away this moment, trying with absolute desperation to sink into oblivion.
“Don’t you remember how good this was? The first time we did this. How close it made us? Best friends. Lovers. I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen anymore, Blesk. The thought of Konnor touching you… Fucking hell, it’s driven me out of my goddamn mind. I’ve been going crazy. And I know now that I just need to make you remember.” He licks a tear from my cheek. “Please don’t cry, Bebe.”
I can feel him through my knickers, hard and aroused, and I just want to cry out stop. The word doesn’t actually come out, it’s blocked by his hand, but it’s there in my thoughts and on my tongue.
&nbs
p; “I’m the only person whose been inside you, right?”
I nod frantically.
“Good.”
When he unbuttons his jeans and shifts his weight to pull them down, my mind fades out, leaving him with my body. I can see the old lightbulb hanging loosely from the ceiling swinging back and forth . . . or maybe I am. It’s dark down here. Although I’ve spent many hours here, I’ve never looked at the ceiling from flat on my back before. But my hero boy must have, every night for years. I’ve never slept here. It has all these cracks running through the concrete like veins through skin. It may give way at any moment. I don’t think that would be a bad thing.
Not long after my sixteenth birthday, Erik woke me up from a nightmare just as he had many times before. He used to cry while I cried. He loved me so much that my anguish was torturing him. Some nights he wouldn’t sleep at all. He would stay by my side until I was silent and motionless. He told me that he watched me sleep so many nights that he knew by the expression on my face as I slipped into slumber whether I would sleep soundly or be tormented with memories of my past.
The first night it happened, I let him. I remember waking up to his fingers tracing my cheek and throat, tickling a gentle line down to where my breasts rose and fell. His eyes were rolling lovingly over my face as I batted my lashes back from sleep. I took comfort in his touch. Then, he changed our relationship forever. He’d told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world and that he’d felt things for me he knew he shouldn’t, wanted to do things to me he knew were wrong.
He’d said it felt like someone had their fists around his heart, squeezing it to the point of pain. He told me that his love for me corrupted his mind, and then he begged me to share one night with him as just a girl and a boy, one night when we weren’t adopted siblings. I never said yes. I never said no. I just let him touch me until he was done. I remember the pressure between my thighs, the cramp and sting of his first invasion. He thanked me over and over and over again while he moved inside me. He thanked me for easing the pain in his chest.