by Jeyn Roberts
I spend the rest of the night at home, back in my own church, where the brick walls comfort me and keep me protected. I know I should be looking for Beth but I can’t make myself go back out there again. Here, I’m safe. No one can hurt me. Every time I go out, I risk seeing people who either want to kill me—or worse—want to help me deal with all my problems.
Why won’t they just leave me alone?
In the morning, I have to drag myself out of bed and into my gym clothes. It’s not raining today, which is a miracle in itself. I run my miles without complaint or even coherent thought. That’s the best thing about training. I can turn my brain off.
Gazer is waiting for me in the basement when I get back. I can hear him puttering around, moving some of the equipment or something from the sounds of it. I pour some coffee and head down.
“It’s good to see you’re awake this morning,” Gazer says. He’s tinkering with the ancient treadmill. His tools are out and scattered across the floor. I don’t know why he’s bothering. It hasn’t worked in ages. “I was beginning to think you’d given up on your training.”
I sit down on the table beside him. “Nope. Just needed a few days off.”
Gazer turns the screwdriver a few times and grunts as an answer. I take a drink of coffee and wait.
“Seems to me you’ve given up on a lot of things lately,” Gazer continues. “You sure there’s still nothing you want to tell me about?”
“Like what?” I say, coffee cup frozen halfway to my mouth. This is going somewhere. Gazer never repeats himself unless he already knows the answer.
Gazer gets up off the floor and tosses the screwdriver on the table beside me. Taking a rag, he cleans his hands before turning to face me. “I know about school, Faye. I know they kicked you out. What I don’t understand is why you’ve been continuing to wear that outfit for the past few weeks to deceive me.”
I look down at the floor. I should have known he’d figure this out on his own. The school probably called him the day it happened. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I say. “I know how much it meant to you that I graduate.”
“Me? How about you? Isn’t that what you wanted?” Gazer throws the rag down in disgust. “This was the one thing in the world you wanted. Or am I wrong? Was that just some ploy to make me happy?”
“No,” I say. “I did want to graduate. It’s not my fault.”
“Nothing is ever your fault.”
“It isn’t!” I jump down off the table and go over toward the punching bag. If I get the urge to hit something, I’m going to make sure I’m close enough to it. “It was because of the stupid fight at the party. It’s probably got a million hits on YouTube by now. Of course the school found out about it.”
“People can be deceiving,” Gazer says. I’m not sure if he’s talking about the kids at the party or me.
“I’m trying to fix things,” I say. “Paige. This girl at school. She’s got her father putting together some sort of legal petition. She’s trying to get me back in.”
Gazer shakes his head. “It won’t work,” he says. “We signed papers in order to get you in. A legal form. The school had a right to dismiss you without reason or warning. We agreed to it.”
“I tried, Gazer,” I say. “I really tried. You have no idea how difficult it was.”
“Not hard enough,” he says. “But you’ve had no trouble keeping yourself busy since.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I heard about Phil Sabado. I guess that doesn’t mean much anymore. You missed out on the graduation, so you decided to head straight in for the kill now, is that it? Didn’t take long at all.”
“That wasn’t me,” I shout. “That was …” I pause here. Gazer doesn’t know about Chael. No need to bring him into the equation. There’d just be too many questions I’m not willing to answer.
“You’ve changed so much, Faye,” Gazer says. “Or maybe it’s that you haven’t at all and I’m just finally seeing it for the first time. I’ve tried so hard to believe in you; I guess I was wearing blinders this whole time.”
“You’re the one who taught me to kill.”
“I taught you how to defend yourself,” Gazer says. “So let’s get to work, then.” He gets into an attack position. “Come on. This is what you want, right?”
Gazer comes at me before I even have time to respond. He goes to put his arm around my neck and I block him. But he’s too quick. His leg wraps around mine from behind and I go flying onto my back. Hard.
“Come on,” he says as he bounces up and down to keep loose. “You wanted to learn how to fight. I didn’t think that was a bad idea. You were so helpless. Giving you the power was supposed to make you stronger. Give you more confidence. Make you want to live again. But all it did was fuel your hatred. You were the one who was supposed to take that power and use it for good.”
“They took my life,” I snap. I get back onto my feet and he comes at me again. Two left jabs and then an uppercut. I block the moves easily. I throw a punch back and he gets my arm. Pulls me forward, upsetting my balance, and once again my body hits the padded floor.
“There you go again. A broken record. The only person who took your life is you, Faye. You had your second chance. You blew it.”
I get up off the floor and cross the room because I don’t know what else to do. My legs are shaking and I want to punch something so badly that my hands clench tightly into fists, digging my nails into my skin. Gazer is making me look like an idiot. He’s turning my anger against me. I can’t think properly. I’m fighting like an amateur.
“What are you going to do now?” Gazer says from behind me. “Two down, two to go. Ming and Rufus are left, right? Okay, so what happens after you kill them? Do you think things are going to be instantly fine and dandy? Is the world going to improve?” There’s a long pause. “I’m not going to help you this time. If the police come, I won’t lie to them.”
“I don’t want you to lie,” I say. “I want them to catch me.”
“So they’ll arrest you? Give you a death sentence? Then you can head off to that hell you’re positive awaits you?”
I whirl around, my fists rising up to my face. Defensive mode. “Stop trying to make my thoughts stupid.”
“I don’t have to do that,” Gazer says. He comes at me a third time and I manage to get out of his grasp and avoid the floor. I can hear the whoosh of his arm as it barely misses my face. Concentrate, girl! Don’t let him get under your skin. That’s how they beat you.
Gazer comes in hard again but finally I catch a lucky break. I catch his arm in mid punch and jump out of the way, bringing him along with me. He goes down to his knees and I bring up my leg to kick. But I stop at the last second as I’m trained to do. If this were a real fight, I’d finish him off.
But this isn’t real, right?
Gazer gets up off his knees and goes over to the table and sits down. Picks up my coffee cup and looks to see what’s inside. Taking a long drink, he puts it back down on the table. He’s breathing heavily. “I killed the man that murdered my wife and child.”
“What?”
“I killed him. After I left the force. I hunted him down. It was a calculated move on my part. I was obsessed with finding him. It took me two years.”
“You never told me about this,” I say.
“It’s not something I wanted you to hear,” he says. “But you’re ready now, even if you won’t listen. Killing him didn’t change anything. My wife and daughter were still dead. Shooting him didn’t make the pain go away. It didn’t remove the memories. It gave me no satisfaction. Revenge is only revenge and nothing else. Listen to one who’s been there, Faye. You’re never going to find the peace you’re looking for if you go down this road.”
“I’m not you.”
“No, you’re not. Did you ever wonder why I took you in, Faye? Why I spent all
these years training you to defend yourself? Some people might find that weird. They’d probably call me a creepy old man if they really knew what goes on here.”
“No, they wouldn’t.”
“Sure they would. I’ve made you a killer.” Gazer rests his arms on the table. “I can still remember all those years ago. You were so small and fragile. You begged me to help you grow stronger. All I wanted to do was protect you. I thought if I taught you to defend yourself, you’d never feel frightened again. You want to know why I keep saying you’re not ready?”
I shrug.
“A warrior must accept forgiveness for his enemy before he can truly become a warrior. It’s as simple as that.”
“I guess I’m not that simple.”
I turn and head for the stairs before Gazer can respond. I don’t stop till I’m up in my room and I’ve slammed the door for good measure. I lie down on the bed, sweating heavily, but I barely notice. I stay there for a long time, listening to my heart beating wildly in my ears.
I’m not Gazer.
I’m not Chael.
My actions are going to be my own.
I’m so tired of everyone telling me what to do.
I spend the afternoon searching for Beth.
She’s hasn’t checked back in at the center and Ramona is still worried about her. But ten new Heam addicts have arrived in the past few days and the counselor is running around in a panic so I don’t stay long.
Beth isn’t at her house. She hasn’t been around since the night I found her in the alley. Her mother stands at the doorway, refusing to let me in and only giving curt answers to my questions. I get the opinion that she doesn’t care much one way or another if Beth comes back home.
Joshua hasn’t seen her either. He’s been out searching every day. He’s called the hospitals but has had no luck. He’s even checked with the police twice. He’s terrified. He suggests we team up but I point out that if we’re separate, we can cover more ground.
It scares me that Beth hasn’t even tried to contact Joshua but I don’t say that to him. He still has hope.
It’s around dinnertime when I reach the townhouse. The lights are on and I stand outside for about ten minutes before I finally get the courage to go up and knock. It’s a strange sensation, like having to ask to attend your own birthday party.
I can hear someone running over to answer. She flings open the door without even bothering to look through the peephole. Not a smart idea in this area.
The girl in front of me looks to be about four years old. Her hair is long and brown. She smiles at me instantly, full of trust, showing me a set of tiny pearled teeth. She’s wearing a shirt with a faded picture of a white stallion. I’ll bet she’s never seen a real horse before either.
“Hello,” she says, and her voice is instantly familiar. She sounds just like me. My heart tightens in my chest.
“Is your mother home?” I ask.
“Sure, hold on.” She escapes back into the house, hollering at the top of her lungs. “MOM! THERE’S SOMEONE HERE TO SEE YOU.”
“How many times have I told you not to open the door to strangers?” a voice shouts back at her.
I wait.
The woman who comes to the door is wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her hair is in a tired ponytail. Several strands have escaped and frame her slender face. She pauses when she sees me. If this were a cartoon, her jaw would come unhinged and drop to the floor.
“Faye.”
“Hi … Mom.”
There is an uncomfortable pause as we stare at each other. There are a million thoughts running around my brain but I can’t find a way to express any of them. How do you respond to someone you haven’t seen in six years? It’s not like I can reach out and throw my arms around her in a welcome-home hug. She’s not going to invite me in for hot chocolate and tell me how my bedroom is exactly the way I left it.
I promised myself I’d remain calm if I chose to do this. I would not blame her for anything. I would not fight.
Mom drops the dish towel on the side table and opens the storm door. She steps outside instead of inviting me in. The little girl comes running up behind her but she shoos her back in. “Mommy needs to talk to the lady alone,” she mutters. “Go finish drying the dishes.”
“Who is she?”
“Nobody. Now go!”
“Awwwww.” But the girl listens and disappears into the house.
Alone at last.
My mother stares at me, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed tightly. She doesn’t even bother to blink. Her gaze shoots straight through me.
“I never knew I had a sister,” I say. “What’s her name?”
There’s a pause where she’s obviously deciding whether to tell me or not. “Sophie,” Mom finally says.
“She’s beautiful.”
Mom nods. “What are you doing here, Faye?”
No “How are you?” “Where are you staying?” “How have you been?” Mom never was one for small talk.
“Just wanted to see you,” I say. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has.” She looks me up and down. “You look well.”
“Thanks.”
She sits down on the steps and motions that I should sit beside her. So I join her on the cold cement and we stay that way for a few minutes.
“You look really good,” she finally says. “I’m sorry, but I never expected to see you again. I thought you were dead.”
“By all odds I should be,” I say.
“Where are you staying?”
“With Gazer. The man who rescued me. He adopted me. You must remember. You signed the papers.”
She nods. “That was a long time ago.”
“Six years.”
“So much has happened since then.” She sighs and I can see how the years have caught up. There are new lines creasing her forehead and in the corners of her eyes. And her hair is turning gray now.
My mother is growing old.
“Sophie’s father is dead,” she says. “Work accident three years ago. So it’s just her and me. She doesn’t know about you. I didn’t know how to tell her. So if it’s okay with you, I’d rather leave it alone right now.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t.
“I did everything I could,” she says. “I’m sorry but you have to realize how scared I was. When you came to the house with the scars … I was still on probation because of your father. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I’m not here looking for closure,” I say. “You don’t have to say anything or apologize. There is no amount of sorry that can take it back.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. “I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“If you hadn’t done something so stupid in the first place.”
“I just wanted to see you one last time,” I say as I stand up. “I’m happy that I have a sister.” I look back at the house and I can see that Sophie is watching us through the window. She’s the princess in the tower, with the same secondhand clothing that I used to wear. I see that my mother is wearing running shoes with holes in the toes and that her shirt has been washed so many times it’s almost transparent.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the thousand dollars that Trevor gave me for the fight all those weeks ago. I hold it out to her.
“What’s this?”
“Help,” I say. “Take it.”
“No.” She stands up. Her eyes dart back and forth on the street to make sure no one dangerous is watching.
“It’s not illegal,” I say. “I earned it fairly from a job. If you don’t take it, I will go inside and give it to Sophie. Buy her some new clothes. I guess I was wrong when I said I wanted nothing. Consider this my closure.”
She finally holds out her hand and I press the money firm
ly into her palm. Her fingers shakily close around it.
“Love her,” I say. “Even if she screws up.”
I turn and head off into the night.
I walk and I walk. There’s nowhere to go.
When I see the sirens, I know instantly what they mean. I have no idea how I know—I just do. I start to run, closing the gap between me and the red flashing lights.
One ambulance at the end of the street. A police car beside it. The officer is talking on the radio. He doesn’t even notice me as I approach.
I remember this alley.
I turn the corner and head toward the medics. They’re not rushing. They’ve got their equipment, but bringing it out was a wasted effort. The only necessary item is the stretcher but they’re not using it yet. They must be waiting for the green light because they’re standing around talking to each other. One of them lights a cigarette and spits in the gutter. The other wrinkles his nose and comments on the stench of urine.
“Gonna smell like crap all night now,” he says.
The alley stretches out before me. I first met Beth here. She was hunched in the corner with Joshua between the metal Dumpsters and the wall. I almost missed them because they were so well hidden. I remember how they were huddled together, secretive gutter rats, trying to survive the pain of living. Searching for heaven.
“Hey!” One of the medics notices me. I ignore him and push my way past and in between the Dumpsters.
The child in front of me is curled up in a small ball. In her hands is the small empty vial that once held strawberry-flavored poison.
She’s so pale.
Beth lies with her back against the brick wall. She’s only wearing a thin shirt but she’s not feeling the bitter cold.
Her lips are blue. Just like her eyes that stare out into nothing but darkness.
Nineteen
“Hey! You can’t be here.” One of the ambulance attendants tries to grab my arm but I shake him off.
“I know her,” I say. “She’s a friend.”
Kneeling down on the cold cement, I’m thankful that it’s not raining, because that would be too much déjà vu for me to handle. It was pouring the first night and Beth’s eyelashes were wet and shiny.