Dark Moon

by Victoria Wakefield

  I hugged her back tightly, acutely aware that this was the last time I would ever see Maryanne. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “I’ll be okay,” I assured her, tears brimming in my eyes.

  Interpreting my display of emotion as the results of my fragile mental state, she said, “I’ll get wine for a girls’ night. Whatever you want to do tonight. We can bitch about men, watch a movie, stuff our faces with pizza or Chinese food…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Thanks for everything,” I said sincerely.

  Maryanne gave me a funny look. “You don’t have to thank me.”

  I nodded, afraid that if I spoke I would start crying. No more tears. Tears are for weak people. I had to be strong to pull this off.

  Once Maryanne was out the door I sprung into action, taking one last inventory of everything that was mine in our dorm room. I was tempted to pack more stuff in the duffel bag I’d used when moving here, but it would look weird if I left the building with my life’s belongings on my shoulder. And besides, what the fuck did I really need to survive? Not the mounds of clothes I’d bought to impress Michael.

  Confident that I had everything I wanted to take with me, I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. I had just gotten outside when my phone rang. I jumped at the familiar sound. Calm down. I had to get my nerves under control.

  Half expecting it to be my mother again, I rifled through my purse and pulled out my phone. It was Maryanne. I couldn’t talk to her. I’d already said my goodbyes; before I could second-guess myself I clicked decline on the call.

  It’s for the best, I rationalized. The letter will give her a reason to understand why I left.

  I had just reached my car when my phone rang again. What the fuck? Maryanne’s smiling face was once again on my display. She was supposed to be in class. What if something was wrong?

  I told myself not to think about it. Her life was her own responsibility now.

  But when my phone rang for a third time as I was just starting my car, I couldn’t pretend that everything was okay, that she was simply calling to chat. Something horrible must have happened. What if Maryanne had been in an awful accident and someone was using her phone to get in touch with her best friend, with me?

  “Hello?” I said, my heart racing.

  At first I couldn’t tell if it was Maryanne on the other end. All I could hear was the screaming and sobbing.

  “Hello? Who is this?” I kept repeating helplessly.

  Finally I made out some of the words between the garbled, hysterical crying. “He’s dead!” Maryanne was repeating it over and over, like a mantra.

  “Please!” I said helplessly. “Maryanne, please, I can’t understand you. What’s happened? Where are you?”

  “It’s Damon,” she sobbed. “He’s dead.”

  Chapter 31

  I sped to Damon’s apartment, my mind whirling. I had tried to get details from Maryanne, but she wasn’t making any sense. All I could ascertain is that she had found him dead in the kitchen.

  Even though there was no rational reason, I felt massively guilty. What if somehow, I had willed him to die? I’d even confessed to Michael that I wished Damon was dead sometimes. Fuck, I wished it all of the time.

  This isn’t like moving objects with your mind. But as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I was terrified that I had something to do with this. What if that was my special dark power? Knock humans dead with my sheer hatred for them.

  I shuddered. I wouldn’t do that – even if it were possible. And it’s not, I told myself firmly.

  But it wasn’t just the nagging fear that I was involved in Damon’s death that was making me feel guilty. I had to admit that hearing he was dead, despite the fact that Maryanne was devastated, despite the fact that a human life was now gone, I felt…relieved. I wouldn’t say I was happy, but I sure as shit wasn’t sad.

  As quickly as Damon had waltzed back into my life, now he was gone – forever. There would never be any running, hiding – not from him, at least. How could I not feel like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of my shoulders?

  In his twisted mind our week since reconnecting had been a rekindling of a five year old romance. Even if I had run, he wouldn’t have stopped until he found me again.

  And then I started to get angry. Why was I beating myself up over some douchebag’s death? I didn’t have to leave now. He had tried – and failed – to ruin my life. Yes, it was a blessing in disguise – and I felt almost certain that I had nothing to do with.

  When I arrived at Damon’s apartment, I felt like I was in a cop show. The entire complex had been roped off with yellow DO NOT CROSS tape. Police officers were milling around, telling the small throng of people to stay back.

  My eyes scanned the crowd for Maryanne. Finally, I spotted her. She was sitting on the curb on the other side of the narrow street, her face buried in her hands. I rushed over to her, throwing my arms around her.

  I could feel her sobbing. I squeezed tighter, wanting to make the pain go away. Maryanne pulled back and looked up at me. Her face was red and blotchy, streaked with mascara and eyeliner, and her beautiful blue eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

  She was in shock, devastated. “What happened?” I managed to choke out.

  “I don’t know!” Maryanne wailed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her tears. At least she wasn’t hysterical anymore – no, now she just looked numb with shock.

  “He – I,” Maryanne started, then leaned forward and vomited onto the asphalt. I vaguely realized that some had splashed onto my shoe and pants leg, but I didn’t care.

  She sat back up, wiping her mouth, and tried again. “I came to see him. Oh, Lana, I should have stayed with him last night!” Fresh tears were welling up in her eyes. “If I’d been here, I could have called 911, could have done something. Maybe,” she paused, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Maryanne, I can guarantee you this is absolutely in no way your fault.” Although I can’t say the same for me.

  “They aren’t saying how he died.” Maryanne shuddered. “I – I didn’t even realize he was dead. He didn’t answer when I knocked so I let myself in. And there he was! Sprawled out on the kitchen floor. It almost looked like he was asleep. I leaned down and started shaking him. At first I thought maybe he had too much to drink, because he wasn’t moving, but Damon isn’t – wasn’t – a big drinker. That’s when I panicked.” Maryanne voice was shaking uncontrollably. She stopped speaking, began inhaling and exhaling rapidly.

  “Maryanne!” I said in alarm, rubbing my hand along her back. But her breathing just kept getting more and more labored. She was having a full-blown panic attack, and I had no idea what the fuck to do.

  I watched helplessly as Maryanne gasped for air. “Does she take any medication that you know of?” I swung around, sure I had imagined the familiar voice. “Michael!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  Ignoring my question, Michael sat down on the other side of Maryanne. “Maryanne, I have something that will help you, but I need to know if you’ve taken anything today,” he said gently, placing his arm around her, trying to comfort her. Maryanne shook her head between the gasps.

  “Concentrate on slowing down your breaths,” he instructed. “Then you can take this; it will make you feel better, I promise.”

  I could tell Maryanne was focused on his soft, calming voice. Slowly, the shallow breaths became longer, not as labored. Maryanne’s beet-red face started to fade to pink. Michael held out a pill and a water bottle. “Take it,” he said.

  Without questioning what “it” was, Maryanne did as she was told. Then she buried her face back in her hands, not looking at or speaking to either of us.

  “What did you give her?” I asked in a low voice.

  “Xanax. It will stop the panic attack.”

  “Is it legal?”

  Michael grinned wryly. “If you have a prescription.”

  “Why’ve you got it?
” I hissed.

  “Because ever since we broke-up I’ve been a complete basket case, barely functioning. My colleague wrote me a script for it.” Michael paused. I looked away, studying my hands. “Anyway,” he continued, “what happened?” He eyed Maryanne. “Maybe we could go talk somewhere else.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” I said immediately.

  “We’ll go just over there. You can watch her,” Michael promised.

  Reluctantly, I climbed to my feet and we walked away from Maryanne so that we could still see her, but she was out of earshot.

  “I don’t know much,” I said. It was weird standing there talking to Michael, as though we were both concerned friends of Maryanne and not ex-lovers. Thoughts of sex with Michael flashed through my mind, but I pushed them away.

  “But Damon’s really dead?” Michael questioned.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “But before you say anything, just because I said I wished he was dead doesn’t mean I actually meant it,” I said defensively.

  “Woah,” Michael said, reaching out to touch my arm. I felt my body warm up. I had to focus. It didn’t matter that I was still insanely attracted to Michael. I always would be, but I would never have him again, so it didn’t matter. And besides, this was about Maryanne.

  “I didn’t think you had anything to do with this,” Michael said in a low voice.

  “How did you even know to come here?” I asked wearily.

  He motioned to the vans and camera crews. “I saw the story,” he said. “I recognized the name and drove straight over.”

  “That was sweet of you,” I replied, not looking him in the eye.

  “Look, Lana,” he started, then paused.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Yeah? If this is about Saturday, then save it. I got the message, loud and clear. Why are you here? Maryanne is my friend, not yours,” I said pointedly.

  “For fuck’s sake, if you’d just let me talk! I was going to come find you today, even before I knew this had happened.”

  “Me?” I asked in surprise. “Why? So you could tell me what a liar I am again?”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Michael said. “I was upset.”

  “I have to get back to Maryanne.” I was dying to know why Michael had wanted to see me, but I wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook yet. He had dismissed me, not even entertained the notion that I could have been telling the truth. And even though I hadn’t let myself think about it, I was hurt.

  “She’ll be okay for another minute. I need to talk to you. And we can see her from here,” Michael reminded me. “She hasn’t moved. The medicine will make her feel better, at least numb the pain. It kicks in pretty quickly.”

  Maryanne did seem to be planted on the curb.

  “Okay, so why were you coming to see me?” I asked again.

  “Because I know you were planning on leaving today,” he said bluntly. “Disappearing. For good.”

  “How?” I demanded. There was no point in denying it. I obviously couldn’t, wouldn’t leave Maryanne in this state. And now that Damon was dead, what would I be running from?

  “Your mother – Sabrina – came to visit me.”

  I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. Everything started to go dark, like a movie that fades to black at the end. Waves were crashing in my ears.

  “Lana! Lana!” I could hear my name but it sounded far away.

  And then I couldn’t hear or see anything as I lost consciousness.

  Chapter 32

  When I came to, it took me a minute to understand where I was, what I was looking at. I was on my back, under a tree. I squinted as the sunlight peeked through one of the swaying branches.

  “You’re awake!”

  I turned my head to see where the sound was coming from. Michael was sitting next to me, a worried expression on his face.

  “What happened?” I asked, struggling to sit up, but my head still felt light, and I fell back to the ground. All at once the memories of the last few hours flooded my mind. “Maryanne!” I said in a panic.

  “Relax,” Michael said gently. “She’s right over there, a few feet away from us.”

  “How long was I out for?” I asked him.

  “Only a few minutes,” he assured me. “But you gave me quite the scare.”

  “I’m in shock,” I admitted. “These last few days have been hell. And now, finding out that Damon is dead and you’ve met Sabrina…” My voice trailed off. “I didn’t even know if she was still alive.”

  “I can’t understand it, either,” Michael said. “But what I’ve been trying to tell you is that I know you didn’t lie to me.”

  “Really?” I looked at him in surprise.

  “Really,” he confirmed. Michael reached out and ran his fingers along my cheek. He was looking at me the way he used to look at me – when everything was right with the world, before Damon tried to sabotage it all.

  “Sabrina showed me the tape. She also showed me other things.” Michael paused. “She can move stuff with her mind, like what you were trying to do.”

  “I’m so confused,” I mumbled.

  “Let me start at the beginning,” Michael said. “I got home Monday night from work and she was in my apartment. At first I thought it was you; the resemblance is uncanny. I tried to call out, but I couldn’t speak. It was then that I realized I was frozen.”

  “Frozen?” I echoed in confusion.

  “Immobilized. However you want to put it. She told me who she was immediately. Said that she has been watching out for her daughter – you – ever since she gave you away. Sabrina knew that you had confessed your secret. She told me I had just blown the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was furious that I hadn’t believed you.”

  “Wow,” I breathed, trying to take it all in.

  “Sabrina said you were planning on leaving for good. When she put the video on, she finally released her hold on me, let me move, let me speak. I asked how she knew all of this, if she had been spying on us. She assured me that she hadn’t. She said I wouldn’t understand how it was possible to see things without physically seeing them.”

  “Like a psychic ability,” I whispered.

  “Yes. She warned me that I had better find you, because if I let you leave I’d never see you again. It sounded so crazy, but I couldn’t ignore what I was seeing. I watched her move things without touching them. I think she wanted to prove that you had the potential to do it, too, because you’re her daughter.” Michael paused. “Lana, I’m so sorry I doubted you.” His voice was thick with emotion.

  “You weren’t to know,” I said. “It would sound insane to any normal person.”

  “When I heard that Damon was dead, I couldn’t help but think Sabrina might have had something to do with it,” Michael said grimly. “She stressed that she would do anything – absolutely anything – to ensure your happiness and your safety.”

  “And Damon was threatening both of those things.” My mind was reeling. Could my mother, who had spent so many years fighting the darkness, really be capable of murder?

  “I know you need to get back to Maryanne,” Michael said. “It was selfish of me to lay all of this on you while you’re trying to help her cope with Damon’s death, but I had to tell you. I had to know that I hadn’t lost you for good by acting like a pigheaded, colossal idiot.” Michael looked at me shyly.

  “Of course you haven’t.” My voice cracked. I could never hate Michael, even if I put every ounce of my energy into doing so.

  I struggled to sit up. “I’ve got to at least try and comfort Maryanne,” I said.

  “You two should stay with me tonight,” Michael immediately replied. “If that’s okay, of course,” he quickly added.

  “Of course.” I knew that it was completely inappropriate but I found myself grinning anyway.

  Michael helped me to my feet and we walked back over to Maryanne. She looked up when she heard us approaching.

  “Oh, Michael, you’re here,”
she said in a dazed voice.

  Michael and I glanced at each other. She didn’t remember him talking to her earlier, giving her the Xanax. “Why don’t you and Lana come back to my apartment?” he suggested.

  “I have to stay here,” she tried to protest.

  Michael shook his head. “For what?” he asked gently. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

  “I have to stay,” she repeated. “They told me that I need to come to the station for questioning.” She gulped. “Since I’m the one who found the body, called 911.”

  “Then you need a lawyer,” Michael said.

  Maryanne and I looked at him in confusion. “But I didn’t do anything!” Maryanne wailed.

  “Right, but if the cops think you did, they’ll question you for hours, try to break you, try to trip you up on minute details,” Michael explained. “I know someone. A friend of my family’s. Ira Gold. Let me call him.”

  Michael stepped away. “Do you really think I need a lawyer?” Maryanne asked shrilly.

  “Yes, we’ve watched enough Dateline. Michael is right,” I agreed.

  “So are you two back together? Why is he here?” Maryanne’s brow was furrowed in confusion. She looked dazed – a combination of Xanax and shock, most likely.

  “He saw it on the news,” I said, not answering her first question. I got to my feet and held out a hand for Maryanne to get up, too. She placed her palm, which was icy cold, in mine and I pulled her up.

  “Ira will come with you when you talk to the cops,” Michael said, walking back over to us.

  “It’s going to look like I have something to hide,” Maryanne protested.

  “Just trust me,” Michael said. “Let’s leave, and if someone tries to stop you, I’ll do the talking.”

  We had only walked a few feet away when one of the cops called, “Wait a minute!” and came jogging over. “Miss, we need you to come to the station for questioning. You can’t leave.”

  “Do you have an arrest warrant?” Michael cut in.

  “Well, no,” the officer admitted.

  “Then she’s not coming to the station right now. Can’t you see she’s in shock? Her lawyer will be here tomorrow; she’ll come in to give a statement then,” Michael said. His voice was confident, unwavering.