by Iris RIvers
Said feelings drove him mad. He rarely held grudges, but something about this tasted different. Something about Lara’s union with the cult who had slit his parents’ throats tore the maturity from his chest and replaced it with an urge for vengeance.
In order to fulfill that desire, Kai found himself calling the only man he knew could help.
“Detective Murphy?”
“Hi, Kai,” he answered. “How are you?”
“Listen,” Kai said, pacing his bedroom, “I’ve found some things.”
“Things?”
“Someone,” he clarified. “Someone in Lithe.”
LARA HAD FALLEN INTO a pit of her own despair, the thickness of her duvet a heavy blanket sewn by sweat and tears, by blood and misery. She felt sticky—soiled. Lara didn’t check for the time, but the golden sun pouring from the small cracks of her blinds told her it was past noon.
When she had woken up that morning—her nightmares flashing and tormenting—she hadn’t got out of bed; she hadn’t moved to brush her teeth; she’d simply lain still, pulling the duvet to her chin and letting the heaviness weigh her down.
It seemed to Lara that as one day ended and another began, another would only begin a moment later, and then she was trapped again—in a cycle of endless hours and agonizing minutes. Days slipped by in miserable quickness but also in forlorn slowness. Both unbearable; both worse than the other.
Lara swallowed her thick saliva, the dryness and dehydration coating her throat nearly painful. She eyed a water bottle sitting on her nightstand, the cap already off. If I could move, she thought, just an inch...
But she couldn’t find it in herself to extend her arm.
Lara wasn’t sure what had caused such misery. Kai? Lithe? Her mother? All of the pains she had endured seemed to have coalesced into one single cloud of melancholia and regret—a blackened accretion that hovered above her pained mind, sprinkling things she couldn’t quite understand into her ears.
From beside her stained pillow, Lara’s phone vibrated. She wasn’t sure if she would grab it—she had been ignoring each message that lit up her phone long enough to feel comfortable with complete social isolation—but, slowly, she decided to do it. To open her phone.
Notifications flooded the screen—texts and missed calls alike—from the girls and from Dunne. They all said variations of the same thing:
Where are you? Answer me. From Ana.
Are you okay? Please let me know. I’m worried about you. From Evelyn.
Lara played her latest voicemail. Dunne’s angered voice hammered through the speaker, asking where she was and why she hadn’t been responding. She threatened to kick Lara out of the recital if she missed another rehearsal, much to Lara’s surprise.
She supposed she should have felt apprehensive, fearful for her role. Instead, though, she felt nothing. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but, as she shut her heavy eyes, she bathed in the feeling, let the familiarity wash her down and take her conscious with it.
October 2017
THE BELL WAS MANY THINGS.
For one, it was old—so old that it took a piercing strength to get it to chime. Specks of gold and shimmer freckled against its now rusting color, a reminder of what the bell had once been. The words solitude is a curse—engraved in Latin—circled the edges. The shadows around the letters made it clear that it had been sculpted many years before, and Evelyn wondered whose hand had been fierce enough to carve such delicacy.
It was also a refuge for the lost and the broken; for the girls who had been thrown out and ruined, soiled by the ineptitude and baseness of the New York population. Beside the bell, the girls were hidden and, for the first time, free from the cruel species society liked to call men.
And, finally, it was the signal of something more—something more becoming than blood and vengeance. It was the single sound a man heard as he shut his eyes, as he shuddered in his final breath. The bell’s chime was that of a wolf’s howl: ominous and foreboding.
Sitting across from the ancient bell, Evelyn looked to the girls surrounding her—all different faces of equity and courage. They had become family to Evelyn—something she’d never expected to have. It was October but, after three months of meetings with the girls of Lithe, it felt as if the month should have been later, as if they had known each other longer.
There were innocent parts in Evelyn’s mind that told her she didn’t belong here, yet there were also the corrupted parts that told her the exact opposite. They whispered against the back of Evelyn’s skull like a thief hiding from moonlight, and as they caressed her in her sleep and drove her limbs during the day, Evelyn had begun to question her sense of morality.
“The results are in,” said a girl retreating from the shadows of the room. The dimensions of the tower were odd in many ways. There seemed to be more corners than Evelyn could count, more windows with broken panels and scratched glass, and every time Evelyn walked inside she felt as if the walls had shifted and molded into an entirely different structure, kneeling to the calls of Lithe and commencing at the chimes of the bell.
“Is the voting completed?” asked another girl, her nails bitten to the quick. Evelyn searched her memories for a name. Evelyn knew she was a freshman—she’d seen her once at orientation. Ari, maybe. Or was it Ana?
“Patience is a virtue, Ana,” said Bella, the same girl who had coerced her into becoming a member of Lithe that strange, incomprehensible night.
Ana. That was her name.
Ana frowned. “Nothing about us is virtuous.” A few girls beside her snickered, bumping shoulders with Ana elatedly. Evelyn could recognize two of them—Irene and Sienna.
Another leader, named Juli, cleared her throat. She held a piece of parchment in her hand, undoubtedly displaying the results of the votes. “Do you all want to know,” she said, “or would you rather continue laughing?”
The room silenced immediately. Evelyn could hear the thudding of her heart drum against her steady chest, could feel her palms slick with sweat. She was anxious, a feeling she knew like a close friend. Evelyn had been struggling with anxiety for entirely too long a time, but this worry seemed to be monumental. Different.
“Right then,” Juli said, eyes tracing the paper she held. “Our first huntress is Kayla.”
A surprised shriek sounded beside Evelyn. A few girls applauded quietly, but most remained motionless, their faces stricken with trepidation.
Juli locked eyes with Kayla, who blushed, and then passed the paper to Bella, who took it with gracious fingers. Bella looked down at the writing, her gaze nonchalant. “Lowri,” was all she said. The girl in question gasped in fright, her red hair cascading around her shoulders like rotting fire.
Evelyn looked over her features, making out star-shaped freckles that lined her body. Her eyes were chestnut and doe-like, her limbs pale and sickly.
Lowri was not fit to be a leader—not in Evelyn’s mind.
Bella didn’t give Lowri time to react any further. She passed the note to the last leader—Ayesha—and dipped her head.
Ayesha didn’t look down at the paper, only scanned the room to find Evelyn’s gaze, and said, “Evelyn is our last huntress.”
Evelyn bit her lip to prevent a smile. The girls looked to her, surprised at her monotonous reaction. Instead of expressing her excitement, she lifted her chin—a sign of both appreciation and determination—and nodded.
Bella smiled, her lips smeared with a vicious red. “Let the hunt begin.”
December 2019
LARA AWOKE MUCH LATER. Her bedroom was dark, lit up by the slender moonlight and the piercing stars. Her phone was ringing, she realized, and the buzzing had begun to enrage Lara’s timid mind. She lifted it from the bed, her hand shaking from the weight.
Evelyn. She was calling. With a sigh, Lara answered the call, shutting her eyes against the hum of a fan. She attempted to speak, but her voice was but a whisper. She cleared her throat against the dryness. “Hello?”
“I’m
outside,” said Evelyn, her voice painfully strong.
“What?” Lara asked, her mind foggy against the quiet of her room.
“Please come out.” Evelyn’s voice was soft.
“You’re at my door?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Now come open it. It’s cold.”
Lara contemplated shutting off her phone, ignoring Evelyn’s pleas for another week and hiding beneath the dingy covers of her bed, yet something in Evelyn’s voice had convinced her—perhaps it was the pleading, or perhaps it was the fact that she had come at all. It was the action of a friend, and at a time like this, Lara wanted—needed—the joyous harmony of Evelyn’s presence.
So, with sticky clothes and unbrushed hair, Lara decided to succumb to the wants of her friend and open the door.
“What are you doing here?” Lara said as she pulled open the door, looking down at the small backpack Evelyn carried in her right hand. She was shaking, Lara realized, which made her pull the door open further, letting her into the warmth.
“Where have you been?” Evelyn exclaimed, dropping the bag onto Lara’s floor. “I’ve been calling you, texting you relentlessly!”
“I was going through some things,” Lara explained. “I needed space and—”
Evelyn silenced her with a hug; a tight, suffocating hug that startled Lara. Lara’s arms remained at her sides; she was unsure what to do with them. Wrap them around Evelyn’s torso? Pat her on the back? She decided on the former, squeezing Evelyn lightly then, after a moment, strengthening her grip.
“I missed you,” whispered Evelyn, her head resting atop Lara’s shoulder. Her voice was a mere whisper, barely heard in the noises of the city outside.
Lara was silent for a moment, the confession rattling the depths of her mind. No one had ever missed her before. Not her father—not in the way a parent should miss their child—and certainly not her mother. She couldn’t help but wonder if Kai missed her. The thought was comical: there was nothing to miss. There never had been.
Tracing the material of Evelyn’s shirt, Lara forced Kai back to the hidden parts of her mind. “I think I missed you too.”
Evelyn pulled out of the hug, laughing. “You think?”
“I don’t know,” Lara said, shrugging. “I’ve never done this. I’ve never had a friend.”
Evelyn smiled, and Lara felt a surge of emotion bloom inside her chest. “That’s okay, I’ll be your first.”
Your first.
“Are you hungry?” Lara asked awkwardly. She headed to the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door. Empty, as usual. She turned around, shutting the door. “Pizza?”
Evelyn smiled.
THE PIZZA ARRIVED ABOUT forty-five minutes later. The pair carried its box and two paper cups of water to Lara’s couch, giggling at some joke Lara had made. Neither could remember what it was.
“This is so good,” said Evelyn as she held a slice above her open mouth, dropping it slowly down onto her tongue. Lara agreed silently, biting off the melting cheese from her own slice.
“So,” Evelyn started, “what have you been doing alone all this time?”
“Sitting in bed. Moping around my living room,” answered Lara. “The usual.”
“The girls missed you.”
Lara scoffed. “I doubt that. I ruined things for them. For you.”
“Despite your beliefs,” Evelyn said, taking a sip of water. “you haven’t. We’ve all messed up.” She looked down at her cup. “Some worse than others.”
Lara observed her downcast eyes, her face painted with guilt. “What did you do?”
Evelyn shot her head up. “Me?”
“You said everyone has messed up. That includes you.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “it happened a long time ago.”
“What did?”
“Something I did to Lowri.” Evelyn looked up at the ceiling.
“Lowri? Lithe Lowri?” Lara pushed.
“Can you think of any other Lowri?” Evelyn asked. “That damned hair,” she muttered, her breath low.
“Will you tell me?” Lara questioned, her own voice a small whisper.
Evelyn looked to Lara, her eyes soft and promising. “One day, I’ll tell you everything—just not today.”
Lara nodded, not pushing her any further.
Evelyn’s phone beeped. She reached into her bag, pulling a phone covered by a pale blue case from a pocket. A few moments later, she smiled at her screen. It was a smile Lara had never seen before—a smile that, Lara suspected, only one person could create.
“Who is it?” Lara asked, staring at Evelyn’s beaming face.
She looked up from her phone. “It’s—” She broke off. “I haven’t told you about him before.” Before Lara could say anything, Evelyn straightened her back, her eyes gleaming with recognition and pride. “His name is Will, and he’s my best friend.”
“Best friend?”
“The bestest friend I’ve ever had.”
Lara found herself smiling at Evelyn’s admission, but still, she couldn’t help but yearn for such a relationship.
As if Evelyn had heard Lara’s thoughts, she took her hand and squeezed it. “You’re my best friend too, you know.”
“I barely know you,” she said, looking down at their joined hands.
“And?” Evelyn said. “You still are.”
Lara shrugged. “Will seems like a different type of friend.”
Evelyn bit her lip. “Yeah, he is. He’s...” Blood rushed to the pale of her cheeks. “He’s just Will. My Will.”
“Like family?”
Evelyn pulled her hand away from Lara’s touch. “Yes,” she whispered. “Like a brother.”
“Okay. Tell me about him then,” Lara said. “I mean, not that I care. Or am interested.”
“Do you pretend to have no feelings around everyone you know?” Evelyn asked.
Lara squinted. “I don’t pretend. I feel nothing.”
Evelyn giggled, and then they were there, in Lara’s one-bedroom apartment, hiding under blankets like little kids, Evelyn telling stories about Will’s piano and Lara listening as though she could hear his tunes flood into the solitude of her apartment. They shared the same breath, their laughs mingling within the humidity of their closeness, and when they drifted to sleep, Evelyn snuggled against Lara’s back and held her close, knowing, if she were to let go, Lara would try to hide again.
Evelyn’s second best friend, and Lara’s first.
Lara would not hide—she would not run. Not again.
CHAPTER TWO
“But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.” ––Margaret Atwood
Kai stood at the center of his living room, redecorating his apartment.
He wanted new—he wanted different—and his apartment, the same one he’d decorated just months before, was leaking normality. He had ripped all his old posters down and hung up new ones; images ranging from Tokyo to antique movie illustrations flashed against the bare walls. A new magnet—reading Fuck Capitalism—was stuck to his fridge.
Kai’s laptop chimed from his coffee table. He ran over and answered the call.
A pixelated version of his mother appeared on the screen. “Hi, Mom,” he said, settling into the couch behind him. “Long time no talk.”
“And whose fault is that?” his mom scolded, though her tone rang with humor. “You never call anymore.”
“I know,” Kai said. “School has been...” Vehement. Erratic. Kai thought of Lara. Bloody. “Busy,” he finished.
“Busy with what? The recital?”
Kai nodded.
“Are rehearsals going well?”
No. “Yeah.” Kai nodded again.
“And the investigation?” his mother prompted. “How’s that going? Have you found anything useful?”
Kai thought of his last meeting with Farrow, when she’d introduced h
im to Clarke. He thought of the name that’d been circling around his head—locking him to his own thoughts and apathy.
Lithe. Kai’s mind drowned in the girl who had betrayed him, who had ripped his heart from his chest. Lara. The blades of his heart. The destruction of his life.
Kai should’ve told his mother everything, should’ve ardently said that he was getting closer, closer than before. Instead, he suddenly said, “No. Farrow, the investigator, has shown me some things but nothing of importance. Honestly, the entire thing feels like a dead end. I think I’m just wasting my time.”
“Really?” she sighed. “I thought she’d be helpful.”
Kai said nothing. Then, a moment later: “Have you heard from Kaden?” He had been relentlessly asking his parents the same question and, every time, it had been the same, disappointing response. This time, however, his mother quirked her lips.
“Actually, I have. I was meaning to tell yo—”
“What?” Kai jumped from the couch. “Seriously? When?”
“Yesterday,” his mother answered. “She called me.”
“She didn’t call me,” Kai accused, feeling both hurt and conflicted.
“It was only for a few minutes,” his mother tried to console him. “Just a brief update on how she’s doing.”
“Well?” Kai prompted. “How is she?”
“She’s doing good. College, or uni as she likes to call it, is going really great. She’s made some friends too.”
Kai smiled slightly. Friends. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her with a friend.
“Okay,” Kai exhaled. “That’s good. I should call her.”
His mother smiled, her teeth pearling in the frame. “Yeah, I think you should.” She paused. “She may still need time though. Don’t be upset if she doesn’t pick up.”
“I know,” Kai said solemnly.
He missed his sister; he missed his best friend. Baker had quickly filled that spot—he knew that their connection was a solid one, one he hoped would last a lifetime—but still, the relationship he had with Kaden was different. No one—despite the love and appreciation they gave Kai—would fill the gaping hole Kaden had left in his life.