by Brown, Tara
At first, I hadn’t minded. I was angry at Paige for not worrying about how I was getting home from New York and ditching me for Horatio. But one day of being annoyed turned into a second day of feeling lonely. By the third day I was going out of my mind, a place I suspected I would be all week.
My brother’s cruel description of me wandered about in my head, tormenting me.
My stare lowered, catching the small scar on my wrist in my peripheral.
It taunted me.
I turned my hand over and rubbed the spot on my pajama pants, pushing the painful words away.
In the rain and wind, I saw a dark figure walking from a parked car in the large circular driveway below. My father was coming in the direction of the back stairs, near where I was.
Deciding I wasn’t speaking to him either, I got up and hurried to my bedroom, closing the door. I sat on my bed and curled up, staring at the ceiling.
I was lost in thought, unaware of how much time had passed before a knock at the door startled me.
The door opened slowly.
“O?” Laertes spoke faintly, bringing instant worry with his gentle voice as he entered. “Are you sleeping?” Regardless of how he actually felt about me, he had been trying to patch things up every chance he got.
I turned over, cringing when I saw him. His words stuck with me, vernacular knives stabbing in.
“Did Mother come to see you?”
I scoffed. “Why? Did you give her more reasons to shout at me?”
“You gave her those reasons yourself. You snuck off to New York like a child,” he snapped back.
“Just leave!” I rolled back over. I hated him.
“Lucas has left the city,” he blurted, baiting me. But I didn’t bite, because I knew the truth.
My stare focused on the window where the rain was hitting. This was how Laertes would patch our friendship, as he always did. Not with an apology but with something I wanted. Eventually, he’d win, and I’d start talking, and the fight would be water under the bridge. But not this time.
“Father said that he went to a center to get some help for his grief. He’s struggling with the deaths.” He sat on the bed next to me. “I just wondered if he said anything to you about it.”
“Why would he? He’s your friend.” I didn’t soften my tone at all.
“You and he are—”
“Nothing, Laertes. We’re nothing. Nothing happened. I tried to tell you that, but you’re so fucking headstrong and stubborn, you never believe anything.” I sat up, unleashing hungry rage. “I went to the club with Paige, and she ditched me. He gave me a ride home.”
“The embrace at the edge of the driveway.” His eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“Two drunk people. I’d been mean to him in the car, I was apologizing because his dad just died, idiot. End of file!” I pointed at the door. “Now get out!”
He parted his lips to defend his thoughts, but I snarled.
Groaning, he got up and left, defeated yet again. He didn’t know I’d heard him and would think I was unreasonable. I needed Paige. I needed to leave here. I needed a plan.
My stomach twisted, both with hunger, since my mother was starving me on purpose to punish me, and nerves. Was I ready to leave and never come back? Because that was what I would be looking at. Never coming home.
I was angry, so the decision felt easy. Quietly, I got up and snuck out of the bedroom and down the vast hallway leading to the great open area where the stairs were. The four wings of the mansion were connected by the considerable square balcony overlooking the massive double staircase.
My mother’s parlor, where my phone was likely being held hostage, as originality was not her strong suit, was off to the left of the stairs. Kitty-corner to the hallway leading to mine and Laertes’ rooms. She wasn’t often in her parlor, but rather out doing her many societal obligations, so I hoped to find it empty.
A noise behind me on the stairs caught me off guard, and I ducked into one of the linen rooms where guest bedding and towels were kept. The guest rooms were in this wing as well. Footsteps, I recognized walked past the doorway, making my body clench. It was ridiculous to fear such a thing as being discovered in the linen room; my mother wouldn’t have come in here to save her life. I doubted she even knew what was in here. Her sharp footsteps passed the doorway and clicked on down the hall. She was on the phone, talking to someone though she walked alone.
“Are you certain?” Mother questioned. The response was trapped inside the phone, making me curious about the person on the other side.
Her voice trailed off as she got further down the hall.
With a body full of pins and needles and anxiety tensing my major organs, I snuck from the room, holding my breath as I crept down the hall.
Her voice got louder as I got closer, listening as sharply as I could.
“This is dreadful. When?” my mother asked softly.
Again, no one answered her.
What was dreadful?
I paused outside the doorway, eavesdropping from behind a large plant in the corner of the wide hallway leading to the guest rooms.
“Yes, well, I suppose I’ll have to. Thank you.” She placed something down, and her heels clicked on the floor. I turned to run into the room nearest me before she came in my direction, but she didn’t. She clacked around the parlor, not leaving but pacing instead. She was worried or upset.
What was dreadful?
The curiosity ate at me almost as much as the fear of being caught listening in. Mother stopped pacing and moved something around before continuing again.
She didn’t call anyone or talk.
I decided to abandon this foolishness before it ended badly for me, but another set of footsteps in the hallway floor behind me made me jump. I ducked into a small guest room and hid behind the wall with the door opened so I might hear the interaction.
“You rang?” my brother asked drolly as he entered her parlor.
“Something’s happened.” My mother’s voice was soft and cold.
A chilly wind swept across the room and tickled my arm, making the small hairs stand on end. I shivered but managed to hold my breath, waiting for my mother's next words. But she didn’t speak.
He did.
“Oh my God.” His tone struck a chord in my heart. “Are you sure? I have to call Horatio. This is impossible.” Laertes sounded terrified or devastated, I couldn’t tell which. “Oh my God. What a tragedy.”
Tragedy?
Was Lucas dead?
Or another of the Jacobis?
My heart raced until my mother spoke, “Where is Ophelia? We have to tell her.”
“In her room. Let me. I’ll call Horatio first.”
Not able to stay to hear anymore, I turned and hurried to my room before they saw me. I closed the door and jumped onto my bed, holding my ragged breath and fighting the head spins from lack of calories.
I didn’t have time to get my heartbeat under control before Laertes knocked while opening the door. “We need to talk,” he whispered harshly as he closed the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked rudely, pretending I didn’t know anything.
His eyes should have been a dead giveaway. They were wide with shock and watery. “There’s been an accident, I’m afraid. Paige is—”
My head filled with noise, white noise, and my ears refused to hear anything else.
His lips moved, and his hands mimed something, a tale of tragedy and hurt. He wept. He actually cried.
But I covered my ears, curling into a small ball. I rocked back and forth, my eyes closed.
Not Paige.
The scent of lilacs wafted into the room as if they’d followed him in.
No.
Paige was there, she was with me.
This was a lie.
A trick.
Our mother had done something, put Laertes up to this. Had they known I was listening in and acted that scene out for my benefit?
But even as I wa
s convinced, I knew my brother. He hated our mother nearly as much as I did, and while he could be unkind, he would never be this cruel.
Which left one option.
Our mother had tricked him as well, and he believed what he was saying.
He continued to speak, sitting on the bed with me, scooping me up into his arms, and bringing me to his lap. He cradled my body as if I were a child again and he sobbed.
The white noise abandoned me, leaving me open to it all, and no matter how hard I pressed my ears shut, his words found their way in.
“Drunk driving.”
“The bridge across the Hermes River.”
“Body found.”
“Funeral is Monday.”
“So sorry.”
My hands balled so tightly that my skin burned where the nails dug in. I wished for death. Not to kill myself, but for the angels of mercy to come and end this.
The lilacs in the air tormented me, getting stronger.
The smell was so intense I pushed myself away from Laertes, struggling from his arms and running from the room. I bolted across the open hallway, down the stairs, and through the main foyer. Voices called as I flung open the front door and escaped out into the rain.
It was warm and rough, beating down on me as I made my way along the lengthy drive to the guard gate. I didn’t bother with the people screaming in the background. Or the throbbing in my feet as they slapped on the wet concrete.
I had a single destination.
Paige’s house.
This was a lie.
It was a mistake.
It was a scheme made up by my mother.
She’d said she would separate us.
“Ophelia!” a voice was closer than I expected and my arm was snatched, spinning me while the world tumbled. Laertes again scooped me up. His grip dug in, biting my skin.
He wrapped himself around me, shielding me from the savage rain pelting us.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“She can’t be dead. This is Mother, she’s done something. She faked her death to torment me.”
“O”—he paused, pulling back and shaking his head—“I called Horatio and spoke to his mom. He saw her. He stayed with Paige’s parents as they ID’d her. Paige is dead. Her family is crushed. Apparently, Horatio tried to jump off the bridge last night. He’s being held overnight for monitoring.”
All his words fell on me at once.
Flattening me.
“It is real. And I know you’re hurting. I would do anything to change this.” The severity and pain in his expression sank all hope. There was truth and certainty in his words. Swords of honesty stabbing into me.
I collapsed into him, unable to cry but sobbing all the same.
The rain washed down my cheeks, making tears.
But they couldn’t soothe the sting in my throat where real tears were lodged.
The reality that Paige was gone was the hardest moment I’d ever faced.
The loss was too significant.
Too great.
There was no compass to guide me, telling me how to feel.
I was lost.
Paige had been the compass.
Chapter 4
Staring out the window had become something of a pastime for me. I watched the shadows move along the wall and windowsill as the sun moved across the sky.
People entered the room. They spoke, some touched my arm gently as if to see if I was awake or had fallen asleep sitting upright. They begged me to eat or drink. But I didn’t budge. I waited.
When the sun set and the sky began to show stars, I inhaled deeply, coming out of my trance.
It was time.
My legs wobbled a little from sitting for so long, and my arches ached bearing weight for the first time in hours as I crept across my room. Silently, I opened the door and listened.
No one stirred.
In the dark, I made my way to the parlor, closing the doors when I was inside. I didn’t bother turning on lights. I knew the area well enough from sneaking out. I could maneuver through here without moonlight, which there was very little of.
I got to my mother’s desk and sat in her large, comfy office chair. The smell of lilacs was there again, joined by a cool breeze. The tiny hairs on my arms lifted as I tried not to be nervous, but I felt her, I felt Paige in the air around me. The wind nudged me as if telling me to go on.
With shaky hands and a rapidly beating heart, I listened to the sound of my own ragged breath as I pulled open the first drawer. I felt inside with my fingers, touching items I could name by the feel.
Notebook. Pens. Phone charger. Small—
A sound made me pause.
My breath stopped as I listened.
It was a chattering or a rattle.
“Hello?” I whispered, wholly terrified as the sound became louder.
My mind raced with rational reasons this might be happening, but there were none. It had to be Paige. I was alone in this room, there was no doubt.
I rose from the chair and walked to the noise, the exact opposite thing I imagined I would have done in this situation.
The dark room and the cool breeze with the rattling sound were overwhelming, but I moved closer, feeling with my hand, terrified of what I might find.
The noise was coming from Mother’s sitting area. A coffee table, matching side tables, and two leather sofas. I couldn’t imagine what was rattling from that corner. Fortunately, the smallest bit of light shone in there from the security lights around the outside of the house.
One of the side tables was moving, vibrating.
Holding my breath, I sat on the leather sofa next to it, watching in the tiny bit of light as it shook.
Then it stopped.
The lilac scent was overwhelming, but the breeze in the air was paused. I stared at the drawer on the small table.
It popped open making me jump back.
Something in the drawer began to move.
Biting my lip, I forced myself to move closer. A light shone from the drawer.
My heart sped.
The sound stopped again.
As I leaned in, I saw my phone powering on.
I exhaled and reached for it, worried the drawer might snap shut.
But it didn’t.
The wind stopped. The lilac was barely there. My phone was at ten percent.
I entered my password and watched as the screen lit up more.
Eighty-five messages.
I tapped my messenger, seeing fourteen were from her, Paige.
I opened her profile, my face tightening with agony as I read the messages.
What do you mean you’re with Lucas!!!!
I’m going to kill Horatio. He’s going to fucking die. I was still in the bar when you sent this. I didn’t know you left, then Horatio said you were feeling sick and going home with the guards. I was mad you left without saying goodbye. I thought you were pissed about Horatio being there.
OMG
My heart ached, of course she hadn’t known I was with Lucas.
I’m sorry. Don’t be pissed at me. I hate it when you’re mad at me.
O!!! Stop being a grudge holder.
Come on.
She sent a selfie after that, pouting lips and worried stare.
What do you want, blood? I said sorry. O!!!!!!!!
Okay, real talk, did your mom steal your phone as punishment for you going into the city? Mrs. Agard, is this you? Are you reading my texts?
Ophelia Juliet Agard, you answer me now!!!!
OKAY FINE!
The next message was time stamped eight hours later.
Can we be done fighting now? I hate it when you’re mad.
You’re killing me with the silent treatment, this is savage. And immature. You’re being a dick.
The final message was a video time-stamped six hours later.
My heart was in a vice, but I pressed “play,” ever the sucker for punishment.
“O, okay, it was a shitt
y thing to do. I didn’t mean to invite Horatio. It sort of just happened. And I didn’t think in a million years he would bring Lucas since his dad's wake was that day.”
She took a drag off her smoke and paused.
“I think I might love him, Horatio, and I made a stupid choice, and I’m the worst friend ever. But I’ve been giving this some thought, and you have to forgive me for two reasons: One, I’m your best friend in the whole world. That means no matter what happens, you have to love me. We’re chosen family. And two, you ditched me that night you hooked up with Lucas, and I had to walk for six hours to get back to civilization from the docks. Because unlike you spoiled shits, I don’t have drivers. It took me eight hours to get home. So we’re even. I really am sorry, and I hope you didn’t bang him because I super don’t want to start this shit all over again. I love you.”
The video ended and I began to cry. I clung to the phone, sobbing silently. I couldn’t get a full breath of air. My broken heart had to have been bleeding out, drowning me.
I curled into a ball, clinging to the phone. The last piece of her.
The lilac whispered in but it wasn’t like before. This time the scent was soft and the breeze delicate.
“I’m so-so-sorry, Paige,” I sniffled.
The wind stayed with me, and I accidentally fell asleep in my mother’s parlor.
I woke to the sound of someone getting angry. Voices snapping and shouting at one another.
It took a moment for me to realize where I was.
I wiped the drool from my face and tucked the phone into my pocket as I sat up. I blinked a couple of times, listening to the sounds of my mother and father discussing something angrily.
It wasn’t anything new, but I worried I might be the subject of discussion.
Had they found me in here sleeping?
The phone in my pocket suggested otherwise.
The voices moved away, suggesting they were going downstairs but continuing to shout at one another.
Panic motivated my steps as I hurried out of the parlor and down the hallway, glancing about for guards or other members of the staff, people Mother controlled. When I got to the stairs, I gripped the railing tightly, listening across the grand foyer for my parents and which direction they’d gone. But the house was now silent. I worried my father might know about New York. I hurried through the hall to the staff stairwell and rushed down it, remaining on high alert for noises.