by Nicci Harris
Konnor is everything I knew Deakon would be: charismatic, charming, strong, brave, endearing. After I release him from Liz and me he’ll be able to continue to be everything I knew he would be. I soap myself up and down, standing under the faucet and watching as the water rushes down me and the soap disappears through the drain. All trace of Erik’s mistake, his touch and smell, sucked down into the pipes.
I scrunch-dry my long thick blonde hair and blanket myself in his towel. When I swing open the bathroom door, Konnor is slumped over on the bed, with his face buried in his hands, which are wrapped in white bandages. He raises his head when he hears me and then quickly stands. “Blesk, you okay?” His eyes are bloodshot and I hope he hasn’t been crying, but I think he has.
“Yes.” My heart thumps hard within my chest as he rakes my body, covered by only his towel. A chill rushes through me, and my naked legs break out in goose bumps. I like how he looks at me, like he worships me. But then his eyes dart away and he shifts in place, almost out of discomfort. That response is another reason why I don’t want him to think of me as her. He wouldn’t have avoided me a few days ago, he would have tried to hold me. But now, twenty-four hours later, he turns away from me. Does he think of me as a sister now? Did seeing Erik with me spoil me? Am I ruined for him?
“Konnor?” I mutter without moving from the doorway. He walks away from me and out of sight, not glancing up once. I grimace, get dressed quickly into the clothes Elise brought for me, and then tip toe over to meet him sitting on the couch.
He shoots up. “You okay?”
“I’m fine! Please stop acting like I’m made of glass.”
He shakes his head in confusion. “What?”
“You’re treating me differently!”
“Yeah,” he nods, “of course I am. You mean more to me than anyone else in this damn world. I am not going to look at you like you are just another girl.”
“So that is how you looked at me before?”
“No,” he exclaims. “Christ, I always looked at you different.”
“Then look at me like that again.”
He locks his jaw and speaks through gritted teeth. “I can’t. Not right now. You’re my Liz,” he gushes.
My brows tighten. “No, I’m not!”
It took me years to build some semblance of a life and bury my past, but now he wants to dig it all back up. Before I realise what I’m doing I rush towards his apartment door. I need to get away from him and process this alone.
He runs after me and slams himself against it, and his face dips to mine. “Come on, not again. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to act. I’m doing the best I can given the circumstances.”
He searches my gaze as I try desperately to avoid him, knowing his soft, beautiful eyes will further weaken my resolve. I try to stiffen my lower lip as trembles begin to take control. He clasps my jaw, tilting it until my eyes meet his. I can feel my body start to quake with repressed emotions, wanting to burst out and be free. “I know you aren’t my sister, Blesk. I’m not acting like this because that’s what I think. I’m just trying to respect you, babe, and be nice to you. That is all this is. After everything that happened yesterday… I have no idea how to act…”
We take a few moments just like we did last time, with his back to the apartment door and my hand on the door handle.
“Blesk. Do you want me to be corny?” He grins and both cheeks display those adorable dimples. “Will that make you smile again?” He forces a chuckle before saying, “You had me at cello!”
A subtle smile betrays my anguish as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, feeling so confused. I'm completely drained.
“Konnor,” my voice shakes, “I just want you to treat me like Blesk. Please.”
“Okay . . . Blesk.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Can we go back to the couch? Can you stop trying to run away from me?” He combs my hair with his fingers and gives me a feigned cocky grin. “It kinda hurts my ego.” A half-smile draws my lips out and I nod, just once.
“Blesk, talk to me, please. You must remember everything, better than I do” He pulls his fingers through my hair and stares at the strands as if they are the most beautiful creation on earth. His eyes stop on my neck and then trace my long locks as they bounce down over my décolletage. “I remember you... Blesk.” He studies my face. “You’re a duchess, ya know that? You were always beautiful, but now, you have grown into this extraordinary woman.”
I raise my hand and cup his cheek, watching as he closes his eyes and moves into my caress. “Konnor?” My voice is weak, overcome by the intensity of what I’m about to ask. “Have you had a good life?”
His eyes flutter open, and they fall softly on my face again. “I’ve had an awesome life. And it’s about to get better.”
Before we left the cell yesterday, I had retrieved the box we’d hidden under the stairs thirteen years ago. An old fishing tackle box filled with letters and drawings, stories, songs and notes from our four years together. I grab his hand and pull him down onto the rug so that our legs are crossed in front of us and our knees are touching.
“These are your memories,” I say. Konnor watches, stone-faced, as I gently place the box in his lap, as if its significance could somehow weigh him down and hurt him. He exhales, and his eyes narrow with concentration as he opens the box. My head starts to spin when I see its contents, and our shared memories wash over me like waves. He touches the multi-coloured pieces of paper with his fingers, and I’m overwhelmed with too many feelings at once.
He picks one up. “Should I read it?”
“Only if you want,” I mutter softly. He unfolds one and peers the text, a small smile playing on his lips. My hand flies to my mouth when begins to read it aloud.
“‘Deakon: D is for dream, E is for Everything, A is for Armour, K is for King, O is for Oath, N is for New.’” His face brightens and he chuckles to himself. “Kids, hey?” Strangely enough, I laugh, too. “Did you write that or did I?”
“Liz did when she was five” I murmur.
He unfolds another piece of paper. “It’s a song.”
Konnor’s reads the words aloud, his voice shaking.
One day
Verse One
The merry-go-round will spin, her hair will swirl like a mill.
The grass gets caught in his socks as he rolls down the hill.
The sunshine stays all night, they’ll live in emotional light.
The boy won’t let them fight, they’ll forever be alright,
Chorus
One day could be one day away.
One day isn’t that far away but just sure isn’t today.
Certainly not this, certainly not now, certainly not this way.
Verse Two
When they dance together, he holds her and never lets go,
When they sing together, he’s proud to put her on show,
The sunshine will warm his morns with her lips and kisses,
The boy will support her bow, make sure she never misses,
Chorus
One day could be one day away.
One day isn’t that far away but just sure isn’t today.
Certainly not this, certainly not now, certainly not this way.
Verse Three
They will yell from the hill their voices will fill the air,
They will promise with their special index-finger swear,
That one day.
The sunshine will smile, on a new day, that day, one day.
The new boy will glow, on a new day, that day, one day.
Chorus
One day could be one day away.
One day isn’t that far away but just sure isn’t today.
Certainly not this, certainly not now, certainly not this way.
But Maybe one day.
After he reads the last sentence, he holds the sheet to his heart and shuts his eyes, letting out a sigh. I place my hand on his and allow the recollection of those memories, and that promise never fulfilled, to play in
our minds. When he opens his eyes again, they are glistening with emotion. “Wow,” he breathes. “There is no way I wrote that.” He looks sad and happy, if an expression can be both. “Blesk, you’re a genius… how old were you when you wrote that?”
“Liz was eight.”
He puts his hand on my knee and strokes my leg tenderly. “Does it have a melody?”
I give him a shy nod as a little tear rushes from the corner of my eye. “Yes.”
He smiles at me sweetly and wipes the tear from my cheek. “Play it for me one day.”
“Okay.” He hands me a folded sheet, but I push it back towards him. “No, they’re yours.”
“They’re ours,” he states and gestures for me to take it.
I unwrap the letter with shaky hands, and swallow hard at the sight of a crayon-drawn rainbow cake with six candles. I flip the page over, displaying the image to him. “You drew this for her, for her birthday. She didn’t get a cake that year. She didn’t get a cake most years.”
His brows weave slightly. “Please stop talking about yourself in third person.”
“That isn’t me anymore, Konnor. Please, this is hard enough.”
“Well, I feel like him, especially with you here, the way we were together.” He strokes my hair and runs a finger along my jaw. “I remember some things.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember everything about you. I remember certain days, specially the days you didn’t visit me. And I remember the last day. I could never forget that day, Blesk."
More guilt slithers up my back. I know exactly why he remembers the days I didn’t visit.
It was my fault he was forgetting in the first place.
We both jump at the sound of a phone ringing. Konnor retrieves the cordless handset from its station on the kitchen bench.
“Hello?” He turns to face me and leans on the counter, crossing his ankles in front of him. “I’m okay… Yes, that’s fine, send her up.”
Please don’t be, Pembie.
He smiles at me with the kind of love in his eyes that I’m not ready to accept—the kind I may never be able to accept. “Thanks, Adolf.”
I stand up. “I have to make a few calls.”
“To who?” he asks, putting the phone down.
I gulp because I know he won’t approve. “The hospital.”
“Fuck that!”
“Konnor, he’s my brother.”
“No, he isn’t! Blesk, what the hell? He was…” He growls and strides over to me, running both hands down my arms and gripping my hands when he reaches me. His eyes narrow and cut into mine. “Has this happened before?”
Yes.
Ashamed, I stare at the floor evasively. “No, not like that.”
His lip twitches, and his eyes turn to slits. “Like… how?” he demands.
He’s furious.
A knock breaks through the tangible intensity around us, and I wave his hands off, needing some space.
What will Konnor think of me if he knew I let Erik have my body for all those years? Konnor couldn’t possibly understand how much I owe Erik for all those nights he listened to me cry and was my only comfort, for every nightmare that followed finding me bleeding out in the bathtub. He still gets them. He was only twelve when he found me. Konnor’s eyebrows furrow, and he appears equally as pained as he does livid. Whoever’s outside knocks again.
“This conversation is not over,” he mutters before walking over to unlatch the chain.
Elise bounces in with a paper bag. “Donuts?” She forces a beaming smile, but the worry in her eyes is undeniable.
“Please come in,” Konnor jokes as she shoves past him.
She rushes over to me, and we embrace tightly. She rests her head on my shoulder as we revel in the comfort of each other. I hear Konnor moving across the apartment, but my eyes are shut tight.
Elise murmurs cautiously in my ear, “Wanna go out to talk?”
I open my eyes and look at Konnor’s face. “No, we can talk here.”
Elise releases me and waves the bag in her hand. “Donuts?”
“Do you want a drink, Elise?” Konnor appears almost sheepish as he collects a tumbler and a bottle of liquor from the kitchen cabinet.
Elise frowns at him. “It’s nine a.m., Konnor.”
“Yep, it sure is.” He gestures towards the couch, and adds, “Take a seat.” Elise moves to the sofa and sits down, glaring at Konnor as he tilts the glass to his lips.
“Konnor, what the hell happened yesterday?” Elise asks.
Konnor shifts his feet, and murmurs before answering. “Elise, I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He lowers his head and shakes it slowly. “I have… I don’t know what else to say.”
“What happened?” She looks questioningly at him. “Please, I had to take two showers last night. I was completely covered in blood. I deserve to know.” Her voice is steady, given the situation, but I can tell she is struggling to remain calm. Konnor paces over to console her, but she steps back and puts her hands up. His face falls deeply affected by her reaction.
He grips his nape and drags his fingers through his hair with a low growl. “Elise…I’m so sorry. I’m not a dangerous guy.”
“Really?” she says dubiously. “Yep, okay. I believe you, it’s just, you weren’t the one holding Erik’s face together.” Konnor winces, then turns to me for support.
My breath lodges in my throat, and my legs give way. I sink onto the couch. “Elise…” I choke on the words, because they are hard to articulate. Harder to hear, I imagine. I cast Konnor a quick pleading glance, asking him with my eyes to tell her because I can’t get the words out.
He inhales for courage. “Erik was hurting Blesk.”
She flashes her wide-eyed gaze to me. “Hurting you how?”
I don’t want to say it. God, no, I don’t want to hear it either.
Every part of me wants to rush for the door again and never come back. Konnor is seated beside me before I realise he had even moved, and his arms quickly envelop my shoulders. He seems to read me like a book. “Duchess,” he whispers, nuzzling into my hair. “It’s okay.” I nod and his warmth filters through to me, settling my nerves.
“Guys, what is going on?” Elise asks.
“Erik raped Blesk,” he states, squeezing me closer to his chest.
Yep, harder to hear.
“He what?” She glides over to us and hugs my waist from behind, so I am enclosed in a Konnor and Elise sandwich. I feel her and Konnor grip each other’s arms and rub them affectionately, and that small action affects my heart so profoundly. For a while, we all just cuddle, with their arms holding me between them and my head against Konnor’s firm chest. In this moment, I have the urge to tell Elise everything, to share my story, our story. I’ve never wanted to tell anyone, ever. The fabric from Konnor’s shirt brushes my chin as I peer up at his expression. His eyes are shut, engrossed in the feeling of me in his arms, so I take a few seconds to enjoy the smell and sight of him.
“Konnor?” I whisper. A flutter fills my chest when his lovely green eyes open and find mine staring up at him. “I want to tell Elise.”
He nods and smiles once before saying, “So do I.”
“So do I,” Elise says jokingly.
“Blesk and I . . . we know each other. Like, from when we were children.”
Elise frowns. “Okkkkkaaaaaay?”
“I don’t remember a lot, because I was lied to all the time.” Elise sits opposite me with a donut in her hand and an anxious look on her face. He fills up his glass and walks to sit beside me, grasping my knee with his strong, tender hand. At no point in time did I ever want to tell anyone my story, his story. My father, my mother, Erik, they already knew. I should find comfort in having someone to share it with. But I don't. Sharing this story, sharing my past, means accepting it. I don’t want to do that. I did terrible things, and one day I will have to stare into his striking green eyes and watch as they reflect loathing back at me.
He sculls back the contents of his glass and clears his throat. “Dutch courage.” He feigns a chuckle, and then says, “I was taken from my parents when I was five.”
Elise blinks at him. “You were kidnapped?”
“Yeah. I don’t actually remember the night it happened, and I’m not sure if most of the things I do remember are actually my memories, or if they are from reading articles or hearing stories from other people. The last few years are a bit clearer. Obviously, I was older. The first few years are nearly completely lost. That place you saw yesterday . . .” He pauses and takes a moment to gaze upon my face. “I was locked in there for a while.”
“How long?” Elise hesitates on the question.
“A long time,” Konnor sighs. “Four years.”
Elise gasps, her hand flying up to cover the noise escaping. A little whimper breaks from me, and he squeezes my knee tighter, soothingly. Our story is a nightmare, the worst kind. I watch Elisa watching Konnor intently.
“My brain was always foggy, is foggy, from the lack of sun, vitamin D, I don’t know what it was, but I was sick, I don’t remember specifics. Liz…”
He was never sick.
I shudder in response to the name I’d fought to forget, and almost had until recently. He stops talking and stares at me, brushing a rogue blonde tendril off my shoulder. “You okay, Duchess?”
Although that pet name is sweet, I know he’s just avoiding calling me Blesk. “It’s not your name,” he’d said. Well if the alternative is Liz, then Duchess it is. I choke down the huge knot that has slowly been expanding in my throat.
“Yes, I’m okay,” I finally say. Elise’s anxious eyes bounce between Konnor and me.
With a heavy sigh, Konnor continues, “It was Blesk’s biological father who took me. Liz and I were both so young and really only knew what we were told, believing things we shouldn’t and imagining things that never happened.
I find it hard to separate my fantasies and dreams from reality. Liz was younger than me and used to bring me meals. She was my maid, my best friend, and then she was my everything. She still is. Once her was caught, he never told the police why he took me. He just pleaded guilty and there was little-to-no trial at all. After I was found I was put up for adoption, because my biological dad thought it’d be better for me to get a fresh start, and my biological mum had died a few years earlier. It was all over The District news for years, so it was decided that a new name and family would probably be for the best.”