(2014) Deep Inside

by Jack Parker

  He blinked. "What?"

  "With Melan, piss head." She blew another bubble.

  He was taken aback. "Nothing."

  Val raised an eyebrow. "Oh please, Jack. It is so obvious that you dig her."

  He didn't understand what she was getting at. "And?"

  "Exactly," she replied, as if he had given her affirmation to some special theory.

  "Exactly what?"

  Val rolled her eyes. "First you fuck up a Melan's relationship with Damien, and then you try to shove me out of the picture because you don't want to have any of her friends getting in your way. You've already managed to play that with Kel, Jack, but I'm not that easy to get rid of."

  He blinked.

  What the hell?

  He found his voice. "What happened," he began. "Was Damien's fault, not mine. He's the one who cheated on her and went off with Kel."

  "Oh, please, Jack. If you hadn't gone and stuck your ass into stuff that wasn't even your business, I could have gotten them back together again," she bit.

  "And how did you propose to do that?" He eyed her with disdain. "Having it off with her boyfriend isn't exactly what I'd class as brilliant tactics."

  Val's expression remained placid. "I was getting information off of him and he came onto me."

  "If you were innocent –" He stopped swinging his legs. "You wouldn't be so desperate to get the blame on me and you wouldn't be so uptight about the subject."

  Val folded her legs and blew one, big bubble. It popped. "I'm not going to let you mess with her, Harlton. You just wait."

  He opened his mouth to reply, but found that he was lost for words. Melan chose that moment to return, a tray of drinks in hand.

  She smiled, lightly. "What did you guys talk about?"

  Jack was about to reply, but Val cut him off. "Nothing special." She shot Jack a pointed look. "We were just talking about Kel."

  Melan's face darkened. "Oh." She sat down and took her drink, then leaned back in her seat.

  Val opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a soft ringing in her purse. She pulled out her mobile.

  "Hello? Yeah...Okay." She switched her phone off and stood up. "I'm really sorry, Melan, but I got to go. I'll see you later."

  Jack wanted to jump up and down with relief, but he kept to his seat.

  Melan nodded. "Bye."

  Val waved and left. Jack sighed and leaned back in his seat, then cast his gaze towards Melan. "She's scary."

  Melan grinned. "When you're on her bad side, yeah."

  "Then I guess I'm on her bad side."

  She took a sip of her drink. "She doesn't forgive easily."

  "I've noticed."

  An awkward silence ensued. Jack fiddled with his cocktail stick. He looked to Melan. She was focused on her drink.

  Here it goes.

  "Melan –"

  "Yeah?"

  She was fiddling with her cocktail stick now, too.

  "That ball was pretty boring and I was thinking –" He sounded like something off of one of those cheap soaps. "Do you want to go somewhere sometime?"

  Melan blinked and looked up from her drink. She tugged at one of her plaits. He wasn't sure whether that was a good sign or not.

  "I'd totally understand if you don't want to," he added.

  Her expression brightened. "I'd love to."

  He swung his legs beneath the table. "Okay."

  "Okay," she imitated.

  Jack grinned, as did she. Things were finally beginning to look up.

  * * *

  Lia slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against the frame. She cast her gaze towards the clock; it was only eight am. She pulled off her shoes and made her way into the kitchen, then poured herself a glass of water.

  Lia leaned against the sink and drank it, slowly. The water cooled her head and washed out her throat. She felt relaxed. Her gaze strayed over the kitchen; it looked so empty.

  She shoved the glass back into the sink, then proceeded in washing it. There was no one else there to do so, she realized with a pang. There never would be anyone else. Lia washed her hands, the cold water numbing her fingertips.

  She closed the tap and made her way to the other side of the kitchen. She began to dry her hands, then stopped. A note was pinned against the refrigerator. Her chest tightened as she pulled it off and began to read.

  They haven't shown up yet and I realized that I don't have all of the ingredients. I'm going out to the shop to get the remaining stuff, so I'll probably be back by the time you are but I thought I'd write this note just in case. I'm so kind, you see. I'll see you then.

  Lacey

  PS. The eggs still live! Wahahaha!

  The note dampened, tears seeping through the paper and blotting out the ink. She pinned it back against the fridge and took in a few deep breaths, trying to stop the tears as they fell.

  Lia leaned against the sink, breathing heavily. A phone rang in the distance. She held a hand to her head and massaged her temples. The tears had stopped by now and the phone continued to ring. She made her way into the main room and picked it up. She fumbled with the receiver, then brought it to her ear.

  "Hello?"

  "It's Jude." The voice on the other end was cold, impassive. This was the last thing that she needed.

  "Jude, fuck off."

  "What the hell have you been saying to Carmon?"

  The blankness was replaced, slowly, anger welling up in her chest. "Go. Away."

  "You always think that you're the only one who's suffering when something goes wrong but you're wrong, Lia. I –he, we're just as human as you and we knew her just as well. Her death hurt us just as much as it hurt you –" The word, death, it cut. "And Carmon –"

  "Leave me alone," she screeched. She didn't want to –– correction, she didn't need to–– hear this. Why didn't he understand that she knew it wasn't Carmon's fault; she knew it wasn't anyone's fault, but she needed to put the blame on someone because somewhere, something inside of her told her it was her fault and if she hadn't gone out the night before, then she could have helped Lacey out and she would be the one dead instead. She wished that she could be the one who was dead.

  "I'm not going to leave you alone. You're always taking out your anger on him –you're always taking out everything on him and one day he won't be there anymore and then, fuck all, I'll pray every night that every inch of you burns in hell until all that's left is ashes, you bitch."

  The phone was shaking as she trembled with rage. "Fuck. You." She hung up, then bent down and wrenched the chord from its socket.

  Lia slumped down onto the sofa, her whole body still trembling. She dug her head into her hands and cried. Somewhere, wavering on the edge of her consciousness, she heard a door open, then close.

  Cal looked to her, then disconnected the phone. "I'm guessing someone bad phoned."

  She nodded, feebly, her whole body wracked with sobs. Cal stood there, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. He twirled his phone between his fingers and waited.

  Lia leaned back into the sofa and took in a deep breath. "I'm okay now." She wiped her cheeks.

  He shrugged. "I don't mind, but –" He stopped twirling the phone. "Michael phoned and he wants us there, now. But you don't have to go if you don't want to. I can tell him to piss off."

  Lia shook her head. Lacey was dead, Jude hated her and Carmon probably hated her, too. Her missions were all she had left, and she couldn't let that go. She needed normalcy, solidity –she needed something that was the same as it had always been so that she could forget everything and just focus on that one thing and pretend it was all okay.

  If she forgot, if she focused, then it would all be okay.

  Cal seemed to watch her for a few moments, contemplating something. He made his way to the exit and stood there, waiting.

  "You don't have to go," he reiterated.

  Lia stood up and made her way towards him, then wiped her eyes again. "I'm fine."

  And with
that she left, Cal in tow.

  Michael leaned back into his chair and regarded them placidly. "You messed up last time, again."

  Lia scuffed the floorboards with the sole of her trainer and watched the dust collect, then scatter. "I know."

  Everyone knew it had been a Cadlian and they were sure to link it to the Rebels. After all, whenever something went wrong the same people were always responsible, right?

  "This one is your last chance."

  Michael tossed her the folder; Cal caught it. "She's not in the state –"

  "I'm fine," she said, coldly. She wanted, she needed, the stability.

  Cal seemed to get the message. "It's your choice." His tone was placid.

  Lia bit her bottom lip. "I want to do it."

  Michael cut in, his voice calm. "Your mission –" He leaned back in his seat. "Assassinate J. Harlton, Head of Sector four, LAFFAT."

  Lia nodded. It was her last chance and this time, this time there would be no mistakes.

  CHAPTER 17

  Lia twisted her fork in the spaghetti, idly, only half conscious of her action. The distant beat of voices echoed through the room, soft voices which blurred and repeated the same words, the same tune, over and over again. It was like this every day.

  "But Aaron's dad –"

  "I'm not Aaron's dad." Dominic's tone was final.

  A hand lay on his shoulder, followed by a softer, milder voice. "Dominic –"

  "No, Lessandra, we give him far too many liberties and he needs to understand where to draw the line."

  "I'm twelve years old." His voice escaped in a growl.

  Lia continued to twist the fork, watching as the spaghetti coiled then dropped back into the plate. The storm was coming.

  Dominic raised his eyebrows. "Then start acting like it."

  Lia winced. The condescension was barely there, but there nonetheless. Jack hated that tone of voice.

  The storm broke. A clattering of knives and forks, then he shoved forward his half-empty plate. It collided with the jug, sending it toppling over and crashing onto the polished tiles.

  Shattering glass, a screech, silence, then pandemonium.

  Dominic shot up and rammed his fist onto the table. "What the –"

  "Don't talk to me! I don't want to hear you. I hate you. I hate your fucking guts and I wish you'd just die and rot and I hate you. I want to just kill you, all of you, and I hate you so much!"

  Lia winced. Why was Jack being so horrible? He had no right to say any of that. Anyway, killing was wrong.

  "Go. To. Your. Room. Now." Dominic's voice was cold.

  Jack cast him a look, a bare, scathing look, then turned with a flourish and marched up the steps, making sure that each footstep pounded and echoed through the room. Dominic slumped back into his chair, then took a glass of water and cast his gaze towards Lia.

  He offered her a smile. "I wish he could be more like you. You would never dream of killing us, would you, Lia?" He joked.

  She liked it when her father complimented her and he usually always did after one of his arguments with Jack. She wanted to say something that would make him happier and compliment her more. Compliments made her feel good about herself and she needed that; she needed to feel good about herself.

  "Killing is wrong. I would never kill anyone."

  Dominic grinned. She had passed the test. Lia grinned with him, then he turned to Lessandra who was mopping up the glass. "We're going to have to watch ourselves with that one, Lessie. In five years time he'll probably be an axe murderer with a price on his head –"

  "Dominic!" Lessandra was indignant.

  "I wouldn't put it past him. But this one –" He pulled Lia towards him and ruffled her hair. "She wouldn't hurt a fly, would you, Lia?"

  Lia nodded. "What Jack said was really horrible. Just because he's angry he shouldn't say that sort of stuff."

  Killing was wrong. Anyway, Jack got angry way too easy. He needed to learn to control his temper.

  "See, Lessie, even Lia agrees with me."

  Lessandra sighed. "You two –" She gesticulated, searching for the right words, then shook her head. "Lia, come down here and help me tidy this up."

  Lia stood up and made for the kitchen, bringing a dustpan and brush. She proceeded to clean the tiles.

  Her father was right; she would never hurt a fly. But as for Jack…They would have to watch him as he grew older. Right now he was only twelve, so it didn't really matter, but at the rate he was going –by the time he reached the peak of his teens – there was no telling what he could get up to.

  What if he did actually kill anyone?

  Lia suppressed a shudder.

  If he did, she would never forgive him. That was for sure.

  * * *

  Sun light poured through the corridor, dancing over the tiles and giving them a pale, opalescent glow. It was a band of light, streaming out behind him and cutting a path to his destination. He looked to the door and gulped, then knocked.

  "One moment!" A voice sang from the other end. He heard shuffling and something fell over, then some more shuffling and the rattling of a key.

  The door was slid open and Melan peered out, a tumble of golden-brown hair curtaining her face. She smiled. "Give me a minute." She left the door ajar.

  He nodded complacently, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie and twisting it over his fingers.

  A few moments passed. Melan came back to the door and peered out at him, a single figure stood in the middle of a corridor, fiddling with his hoodie like a fumbling child. She rolled her eyes and he noticed her reappearance.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "You're such an idiot, Jack." He blinked, obviously unsure as to how he should answer. She continued. "I left the door open so that you could sit in the main room while I got some stuff sorted. I can't exactly leave you standing out there in the corridor."

  Jack nodded. "Okay."

  He followed her into her main room and lingered by the door. The room was elegant, yet casual. A sky blue carpet clung to the floor and, like all of the main rooms in the building, a television set sat in the middle before a sofa. Jack sat down and waited for her to get ready.

  Leaning back, he drew in a sigh. His chest tightened, nervousness welling up in his stomach and bubbling through his veins. Eyes rested on the chimney piece, a stark white upon which sat a small photo in a wooden frame. He squinted, peering at it and trying to make out the figures. One of them looked like Melan, then another Cadlian who looked slightly older and an older man and lady. He guessed they were her parents.

  She reentered. "Ready."

  He indicated the photograph. "Are those your parents?"

  Melan followed his gaze and made her way to the chimney piece. She picked up the photo and traced her thumb over it. "Yeah." Her face adopted a wistful smile. "They live down South. It's really pretty there, but –" She shrugged. "That's only if you live in the right areas."

  "And do they?"

  "With the money I send them, yes they do. Without my support they wouldn't be able to survive."

  Jack nodded, his curiosity peaked. "What about your brother?" He indicated the boy in the picture.

  Something blazed in Melan's eyes, then it was suppressed and she answered with a smile. "He found a girlfriend, got married and we haven't heard of him since."

  Something flickered, then died, and he was left with a sense of remorse. A cloud passed through the air, cutting through the particles and making the room seem hot, stifling. He felt the discomfort and was desperate to say something, but the awkwardness remained.

  Melan broke the silence; as if nothing had been said on the subject, she chirped, "Shall we go now?"

  Jack smiled, a light, neutral smile, and nodded.

  They left.

  The clouds dissipated and stark white light poured out from the hollow crack, illuminating the wet band of landscape. Grass appeared yellow beneath wavering light and Lia ran her hands over its surface, tearing out a f
ew strands and placing them deftly between her palms.

  She held one out towards the sky, watched it glow and tore at the creases, slowly. The lake appeared crystal, glimmering and glittering beneath pooling light. Her gaze ran over the icy barrier. Something whipped through the sky, a glint of gray, then descended and cut into the water beneath, shattering the layer of glass and sending hundreds of shards into the air in one rampant motion.