LOST BOY

by Ker Dukey

  “We’re friends, right?” I ask, hating myself for needing reassurance of our friendship.

  Jack seeps into my thoughts.

  “It’s okay, Liz Wiz.”

  Her mouth twists up, and she follows me back to the front of the shop. “Are you kidding? We’re best friends.” She smirks, bumping me with her hip.

  My stomach twists at her words. Best friends.

  Jack.

  Jack.

  Jack.

  “You sure you’re okay to work today?” Concern puckers her lips as she eyes me. I follow her gaze to my hand where I’m scratching at the scars there.

  My mom flickers through my mind.

  So much blood.

  Why did this have to happen today of all days? This day was already stained in blood. “Do you really think her killer is someone I know?” I find myself asking.

  “Where’s my son, cunt!”

  Her hand slips into mine, squeezing. “I hope not. Whoever did that to her was evil.”

  I knew evil. I’d been in a room with evil incarnate. He eclipsed the sun, stealing the light from my beautiful life and plunging my world into darkness. He stole everything from me. “I’m going to stick around for a little while, maybe have some food on Jeff.” She winks, releasing my hand. I have an overwhelming urge to wash her touch from my skin, but I don’t. Instead, I nod. She knows I would never ask her to stay even if I needed her to.

  Exhaustion follows me around like my shadow as I clear the last tables of the night.

  The hushed whispers about Abigail mock me the entire day. I can’t escape her death. Charlotte finally gave in and left after crowding me all damn day. Abigail was just a girl I sat next to. I didn’t even particularly like her, so getting sympathy for her death makes me feel like an attention-seeking phony.

  I restock the drink fridge, grabbing myself a soda to stop the hunger pangs. I can’t face food. The overhead bell dings despite me flipping the closed sign a few minutes ago. “We’re closed,” I call out over my shoulder.

  Silence.

  “Hello?” I poke my head around, but the place is empty. A figure moves in my peripheral, making me startle. The men’s room door closes with a soft thud, and my stomach dips. Jeff is in his office filing paperwork. I’m not entirely alone, I remind myself as I round the counter, giving a semblance of safety with the barrier between me and whoever went into the restroom. It’s probably just a student with earbuds in. I chew on my nails, waiting for them to come out.

  A minute passes. Then another. Fuck. Hurry up. I want to go home. I need to shower this day from my skin.

  Tick, tick, tick…

  Dammit.

  I slip into the back, opening Jeff’s office door with a soft nudge. “Oh god,” I cringe, pulling the door back closed. Him masturbating at his desk was the last thing I needed to see today. A shower won’t be enough to wash that away. The overhead bell dings again. I rush back out to the shop floor in time to see a shadowy figure move past the window speckled with rain. Asshole could have at least bought something.

  Untying my apron and dumping it on the counter, I check to make sure the restrooms are empty, then latch the front lock and dim the lights. Tension bubbles in my stomach as I peer out through the glass to see if anyone is still lingering.

  “Hey,” Jeff’s voice grinds into my ear, and a weird croak escapes my mouth.

  “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!” I gasp, holding a hand to my chest. “Creep much?” I scold.

  “You finished for the night?” he asks, ignoring my insult, looking around the empty shop.

  “Yeah. Just locked up.” I take a step away from him. He’s too close.

  “That yours?” He moves across the room to one of the tables I just wiped down.

  What the…?

  A black rectangular box sits on top.

  “There’s a card,” he grunts, holding up a small white envelope. “Your names on it.”

  Picking up the box, he walks back over to me, pushing it against my chest until I’m forced to take it from him. “See you tomorrow.” He smirks, waving his fingers. I suppress a gag, knowing what he just did with that hand.

  “Yeah. See ya.” I smile tightly.

  The air is frigid against my skin as I push out onto the darkened street. I should call Charlotte to come to get me, but I don’t want her making a fuss again.

  The box tucked under my arm feels like a weight dragging me down into the shadows that creep along with me as I walk home. It’s crazy how the streets you’ve walked a thousand times can become a test in survival, every sound a threat. My heart roars in my ears.

  Pushing through the entry doors of our building, I sigh in relief at the click locking them in place behind me. I take the stairs two at a time. The front door gives way without my key. “What have I said about locking the door?” I groan, kicking off my shoes.

  Charlotte is sitting on the couch, looking across to the apartment building opposite and into the window of our neighbor. I dump the box on the small dining table made out of a chipped flea market find and two odd chairs brought from each of our childhood rooms.

  “What’s that?” Charlotte queries, her head swiveling to the box.

  “I don’t know.” I frown. “It was left for me tonight.” I drum my fingers on the box. This piques her interest. She moves across the room to where I’m standing, holding the envelope with my name scrawled across it.

  “Open it,” she urges, snatching it from my hands and tearing into it, my focus is on the black box. I pull at the black ribbon, feeling my heart picking up speed.

  “There’s nothing on the card,” Charlotte grumbles, handing it to me. I flip it over. It’s a blank piece of card. “What’s in the box?” She leans her head against my arm. Dropping the card down, I pry the lid off and stare down at a single black rose. “Wow. That’s kinda creepy.” She shivers, moving back to the couch.

  Tears leak from my eyes as I look down into the hole they lowered my mom’s coffin into. My hand jerks forward, dropping the single black rose upon it.

  Reaching into the box, I pick up the rose, then drop it with a hiss when a stabbing prick punctures the pad of my thumb. Blood blooms from the small hole, the crimson tear dripping to the table, staining the discarded card.

  Blood, blood, blood. So much blood. Mama…

  “I’m going to shower,” I murmur, sucking my thumb into my mouth.

  “Who sent you that?” Charlottes calls out to my retreating form. Ignoring her, I grab my phone and type a message to my aunt. Thanks for the flower.

  She probably thought she was doing something nice, but she only magnified old wounds.

  The over bath shower grinds to life, creaking like branches of an old tree.

  Hotter water splutters before raining down, washing the day down the drain. Nothing can clean me of my stained past, though. It just plays on repeat in my mind. My heart is as black as leaves on that rose.

  Collapsing onto my mattress, I don’t even bother with clothes. I lay there looking up at the white ceiling, begging for the night to take me into its embrace.

  My cell phone beeps with a text message. My limbs feel heavy, eyes weighted, succumbing to sleep.

  What flower?

  Five

  Groaning from above wakes me from a troubled dream. It’s a man’s tone, gluttonous, pleasurable. My cheeks heat as I stare up at the ceiling. Who are you?

  Pushing the covers away, I tiptoe to the vent and place my ear against it. I’m intruding, but I’m transfixed. An ache pools in my lower stomach. Pulsing between my thighs. Heavy panting clouds my head. Is that him or me? Everything is so clear, like I’m at his bedroom door being invited in. Is he alone up there, or is there a woman beneath him while he pushes into her body?

  “Lizzy!” Charlotte shouts through my door, banging her fist on the wood panel, making me cuss. Guilty.

  “Yeah! I’m coming!” I call back. Feet pound across the ceiling, drawing my eyes up. She ruined the moment f
or us both, pal.

  Charlotte looks exasperated when I pull my door open. “Here,” she grunts, shoving her phone at me. “Your aunt,” she mouths, rolling her eyes. She saunters away in the direction of the kitchen.

  Pursing my lips, I rub a hand over the back of my neck, why is my aunt calling her? “Hello?” My voice is still heady.

  “Lizzy, thank god. Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

  Searching for the small space, I don’t see my cell phone. “I didn’t hear it.”

  “I just saw on the news they found a body—a student at your school.”

  “They did?” I sigh, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear while pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

  “Have you been watching the news?”

  “No,” I tell her honestly. She lives and breathes the news, so afraid of the world outside her front door.

  “I’m worried,” she murmurs.

  A cold shiver moves up my body. Me too. “I have to get ready for work.”

  “Don’t walk anywhere alone, Lizzy.”

  “I won’t. Don’t worry so much. I’ll call you later.” She knows I’m lying. I won’t call her. Padding to the kitchen, I drop the phone on the counter.

  “Coffee?” Charlotte offers. My focus goes straight to the black box still on our table. “You were moaning in your sleep again last night, calling out for some guy Jack,” she announces.

  The color drains from my face.

  Not noticing my state, she points upwards and says, “I think we have a new neighbor.”

  “Sounds like it,” I muse, taking the box and pushing it into the trash. “I could hear his cellphone ringing in my room like the ceiling was made of paper,” I add, ignoring her quirked brow at the box protruding from the lid.

  “The vent in your room goes into that apartment. This building used to be one big gun shop. It was converted into apartments by the new owner. You can’t fart without the neighbors hearing it.” She shrugs, peeling a banana. “Why do you think I didn’t take that room?” She winks, biting around a mouthful.

  “Did someone say coffee?” a man calls out from Charlotte’s room.

  My eyes dart in the direction. “What the hell?”

  “No,” Charlotte calls back. “Time to leave.”

  “Who’s the guy?” I mouth, hating random men are in the apartment without me knowing. Blood blossoms on the pad of my thumb from me subconsciously picking at the small scab.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so hit up Tinder.” She smirks. When I can’t sleep, I go for a run or watch TV. Am I normal—or is she?

  “Have you heard any more about the murder?” I ask her, flipping on the TV, searching for the news channel, squeezing my thumb so she doesn’t see the blood.

  “Nope. Been busy,” she emphasizes, gesturing the half-eaten banana to her vagina. I’ve known Charlotte for around two years, so I know she needs her beauty and worth validated by men.

  Footfalls overhead draw our gazes upward. The door closing sounds from above, and we both narrow our eyes at our front door. She beats me to our peephole, and I want to shove her out of the way, demanding I get to see who it is since I’ve been thinking about them when I’m in bed. Lonely.

  “Can’t see his face.” His. Why does the confirmation make my stomach dip? I take her spot once she gives it up, but only see a glimpse of a hat as he disappears down the stairs.

  “Maybe we should get him a plant,” Charlotte ponders, handing me a mug of coffee.

  “Since when have you been neighborly?” I scoff, going back to the TV, thinking about poor Mrs. Briggs who lives downstairs. Charlotte likes to torment her by talking filth in her presence. I chew on my cuticles as I nervously wait for anything about yesterday to be announced.

  “Being nosey isn’t neighborly.” She tips the mug to her lips and takes a sip. Tinder Guy breezes in with my towel wrapped around his waist like he’s a tenant here.

  “You can go now,” Charlotte pipes up, pouring herself more coffee.

  He snorts an un-amused laugh, then grabs a jacket from the couch and slings the wet towel from around his waist at me before waltzing back down the hall. I brush it away from me, shuddering. He returns a minute later, buttoning his jeans. The atmosphere is thick. One day, she’ll invite the wrong person over and we’ll both end up dead. Mama. A mirage of the news articles I keep on the crimes of Jack’s father flicker through my mind like a sideshow. Two women murdered! That monster will forever torment me.

  “Next time, just swipe left,” Tinder spits at Charlotte. She saunters over to the front door, opening it. “I don’t do next times.” She slams the door behind him, making me flinch.

  “Why be so hostile? You just had intercourse with that guy, then treat him like he peed in your cereal.”

  “Intercourse?” She cackles. “Are you ninety? We fucked, Liz. He should have left last night. He’s outstayed his welcome. I’m going to take a bath,” she announces, and then I’m alone, waiting anxiously for the news to mention anything about Abigail, but it doesn’t. I find myself fidgety, pacing, sitting, pacing, sitting.

  The problem with having no drapes on the windows is you always feel like you’re being watched. An eerie shiver runs through my blood as I study the window to see if our neighbor is home. She’s usually finished work by now and is making a fuss of her cats. She has two. The window watching works both ways. I’m a daydreamer. I can gaze into her apartment without even realizing I’m doing it until she’s staring back at me.

  “You ever going to tell me about this Jack?” Charlotte asks from out of nowhere, drawing my attention to her. She’s dressed now and slipping on her shoes.

  “Maybe someday.” I don’t know if that’s a lie or not. I don’t want to share him with anyone. He’s my lost boy.

  Sweat beads over my forehead. The heat trapped beneath my hoodie makes my skin feel like it’s on fire. I run, picking up speed. My lungs burn with each inhale of breath. I push myself until my chest wheezes and my head becomes nothing but a buzzing sound. The world around me fades before coming back at full speed.

  Breathe.

  “Damn, I can barely keep up with you now,” Stephan huffs, coming to a stop beside me. I’ve been running since I was eleven, trying to outrun the past. I craved the solitude of it. “Shit, you look pale. Here, have some of my water.” He frowns.

  Taking what he offers, I gulp down the water. The cold liquid pours into my empty stomach, causing pain.

  “Want to get something to eat?” I ask, not remembering the last time I consumed anything substantial.

  “Sure. You want to change first?” We’re both in running gear, dripping in sweat.

  “Meet at Marley’s in thirty?” I offer.

  Forty minutes later, I’m sitting across from Stephan in one of the booths staring at a short menu I know back to back without having to look at it.

  “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere else? There isn’t really food here.” He scrunches his nose, looking at what’s on offer.

  “I like it here,” I lie. I just hate anything unfamiliar and I’ve been anxious since hearing about Abigail, sensing eyes on me when there are none. Shadows creep from the corners of every space, keeping me on edge. There’s a constant feeling of someone standing too close, a breath on the back of my neck.

  “What happened?” Stephan grasps my hand, stroking his thumb over my crescent moon. I hadn’t noticed I’d been scratching at the scars again. My skin burns from his touch. I gently pull back, not wanting to offend him.

  “Nothing.” I pull the sleeve of my sweater down to cover them. “I think I’m just going to have a pastry. What about you?”

  His gaze is penetrating, eyes burning into my own, burrowing beneath the lies I tell him, trying to smash through my façade to get at the broken pieces underneath. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” His tone is as sharp as a knife cutting through the space between us.

  “Should we get something to go? I forgot I haven’t done any studyi
ng for class.” He knows I’m just making excuses to bail.

  A couple silent beats pass, then he’s scooting out of the booth. “Sure. I’ll come back to your place and study with you.” Fail.

  We order coffee and cakes to go. When I tell Charlotte we’re heading to the apartment to study, she makes a crude gesture, shoving her finger through a doughnut. “Cut it out. What are you, nine?” I snap, flames burning my cheeks.

  Opening the door for me, I step around Stephan and nearly spill my coffee on a guy entering. His scent hits me with a shift of the wind, making my heart skip. Petrichor. I inhale the sweet, earthy tone from the first rain of summer. “I’m sorry,” I croak, tracing up the tall planes of his body, my gaze clashing with intense vivid green eyes. A wave of adrenaline races through my blood, making my pulse jump wildly in my neck. We’re frozen in a moment.

  “Liz?” Stephan clears his throat. Green Eyes moves past me without a word, disappearing inside. I feel the cold more than I should when I step onto the street. I try to catch another glimpse of him through the window, but only see Charlotte serving someone else. Turning my head to look toward the back of the shop, I jolt, bumping into Stephan. The man is standing in the middle of the shop staring out at me. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful in my entire life. Scruff covers half his face—and it works for him. Thick lashes complement his compellingly vivid eyes. High cheekbones covered in olive skin.

  “You’re acting weirder than usual.” Stephan nudges me, a light tone to his voice as we walk back to my apartment. I inhale a deep breath, feeling a little winded.

  “Is that possible?” I jest, finally having to pull my gaze from the shop as we pass by it. “I’m usually pretty weird,” I admit. I feel lighter when he chuckles, nodding his head in agreement.

  Grabbing some plates, I dish out the desserts and carry them over to the couch. Stephan stares out the window to the building opposite. There’s only maybe six feet from our window to the woman’s across the divide.