Sever

by Jesse Grey

  “Emmy is your family?” Alex said.

  “Was my family.”

  “Why was?”

  “Emmy went missing, that’s why.”

  “Missing?” Abram’s voice rose an octave. “For how long?”

  “About twenty years.” Reyna sighed again, her hands slightly shaking at the situation. “My brother and I are from Hanover origi-nally, which is how he met Emmy. They were married just over a year before she went missing. We looked for years and years. She just…vanished. The police told us she was gone, probably dead.” Reyna sniffled while Abram and Alex quietly listened on.

  “What would have caused her to up and leave without a trace, if she isn’t dead?” Alex wondered sternly, lightly shaking his head, mentally searching for a reason behind Emmy Walker fleeing from her life.

  “Because of what happened right when she left, because of the—” Reyna cut herself off as something dawned on her, something that she previously hadn’t even thought could be apparent.

  “Because of what, Reyna?” Abram asked, hanging off of her in-complete sentence.

  “It’s one of you, isn’t it?” The couple looked at each other franti-cally, Reyna seeing the action and standing up from her chair. “Oh my God, it is.”

  “Reyna, we don’t know what you’re talking about. Honestly. You were about to say something.” Alex stood up then too, Abram mir-roring the move as well.

  “I’ve said too much.” Reyna shook her head. “Forget we met here today and everything we discussed. I have to go.”

  She turned to leave, but Abram’s words halted her. “But what about Emmy Walker?”

  “Emmy Walker is dead!” Reyna screeched, whipping back to face them with tears staining her olive skin. “I suggest you learn to face that truth.”

  Reyna Walker heatedly fled The Bistro and the inquiring nature of the two young men that were trying so hard to stir up her past baggage. Once she was gone, Abram eyed Alex with heavy doubt.

  “She’s hiding something, something huge.” he nodded. “Reyna knows something more.”

  “Abe.”

  “She was just about to tell us something, but our conversation triggered something she knows, Alex!”

  “Abe!”

  The shrieking of his name brought his monologue to an abrupt end, causing him to stare at his boyfriend expectantly. “What?”

  “She said Emmy Walker is dead.” he neared Abram then, so that no one could hear the next words to exit his mouth. “What if she’s been traceable back to Sumner this whole time?”

  “What are you saying?” Abram questioned.

  “Maybe she does know more, maybe there is a bigger connection between Emmy and Sumner,” he said positively. “But what if she’s dead, has been dead, because Sumner got her to go to Armor Falls Cemetery the night he attacked us?”

  “No…” Abram gasped, staring into the depths of Alex’s hazel eyes, the weight of his words crushing any other response from his mouth.

  “Abe, what if that night we killed Emmy Walker?”

  Bridge was very close to being wasted. It was only about an hour since school had ended. He and his friends hadn’t had any other clas-ses together or any opportunities for Alex and Abram to explain how their meet up had gone, so they had gotten together after school let out to retell the events that had transpired at The Bistro. And that’s when everything went to hell. Abram brought up everything that had happened, which was already majorly confusing, but then Alex had opened his mouth. Even the thought of Emmy Walker being the woman they had accidentally killed and buried in the woods was too much for Bridge to take in. Knowing that he personally could have killed their greatest lead caused him too much boiling self-turmoil.

  And that’s why he was getting drunk at a bar on the far end of town, putting his fake ID to further good use to hide his true feel-ings. His feelings for Ben, for Paige possibly being their stalker, which he still hadn’t told his friends about. And now, his feelings about murdering someone, someone with a name now. A family.

  He was tenderly sipping on his tequila sunrise, minding his own aggravating thoughts, when a really attractive guy sauntered up to the bar where he was sitting.

  “Can I get a shot of Patron, anejo, please?” The guy slapped down his ID on the counter as the bartender strode over.

  Concluding that the man’s ID wasn’t fragulent, the bartender gave him a curt nod. The man took his seat at the bar, giving Bridge the chance to really look at him. His dark brown hair, which he kept relatively short, was slicked back effortlessly. He had brooding, bright brown eyes that dressed perfectly with his earth tone ensemble of a dark khaki shirt and black jeans, pairing it all with a dark brown leather jacket that mimicked his hair along with his mahogany boots. And Bridge couldn’t stop staring at the guy’s intricate hand tattoos. The back of his hands were each inked by a different flower, and his fingers were engraved with peculiar symbols.

  And the stranger must have noticed his stares, because he smirked at Bridge and simply said, “Planets.”

  Bridge took a little longer to react, probably due to the tequila sunrise vibrating against his veins. At least, that’s where he decided to place his blame.

  “I’m sorry?” He spat out, putting down his drinking glass, and gazing into the dangerous eyes of the mysterious stranger.

  He chuckled. “My hands.” The sexy stranger strummed his fin-gers on the bar’s counter, giving Bridge a sloppy, and pretty striking, smile. “The flowers are larkspur and lilac, but the symbols at the base of my fingers, they’re the symbols for all the planets excluding Earth because, who are we kidding, Earth is boring.”

  Laughing in harmony, Bridge just shook his head at the man. “You’re really deep, aren’t you? Clearly you know your way around Tumblr.”

  “I know you’re not old enough to drink legally.” A dead-pan look soared across the surface of Bridge’s skin. The guy just cackled to himself. “Don’t worry, dude. I won’t tell.” He leaned into the small bubble separating them and whispered, practically purred, into his ear. “My ID is fake too.”

  When the man pulled back, Bridge bore the brightest sneer on his face. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The man looked over at him, tilting his head into a question. “So, what caused you to crave tequila so badly? Boyfriend give you trouble?”

  Tossing back another gulp of his tequila sunrise, Bridge gave him a side-eye glare full of pondering poison. “What makes you think I’m gay?” Bridge gestured toward him, the guy shooting another anejo shot. “Are you?”

  He shrugged. “What happened with the boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” Bridge sighed between breaths, quickly ordering himself a third tequila sunrise. The bartender sat down his drink as Bridge continued. “Which is the smallest of all my problems.”

  “Ahh, damaged goods.” The man nodded. “Me too, if it makes you feel better.”

  “Damaged goods is a bad thing.” Bridge chuckled.

  “But at least it’s never boring, like Earth is to the other planets.” The man raised his now refilled shot glass, angling the glass toward Bridge’s own drink. “To damaged goods.”

  “To damaged goods.” he laughed harder.

  They clinked their glasses and sucked down the respective liba-tions until their glasses were empty. The man gasped in refreshment, gazing over at Bridge, winking. “Us damaged goods need to stick together.” He stood up from his barstool, leaning over to once again utter hushed words into Bridge’s awaiting ears. “Do more damage with me in the bathroom.”

  The handsome guy left Bridge with a familiar stirring within himself, ordering a quick shot as the man receded from his view and took a sharp turn down the hallway where the bathrooms resided. Using the last of his money he had saved from jobs over the summer, Bridge threw down a wad of bills before he threw back the shot quickly, standing up afterwards to saunter down the hall to the bath-rooms. And when he threw open the bathroom door to the men’s room, he was attacked by the ma
n’s mouth upon his entry. The pair made out fiercely as they made their way across the empty men’s bathroom to find a stall. The sexy stranger ripped off his pants as Bridge did the same, grinning as he faced the man’s now bare rear end, allowing Bridge to forget his worries with a really hot tatted up guy that was giving him such an opportunity to lose himself entirely. And maybe, just maybe, he could put aside the incriminating thoughts rotating within his frame like a Category 4 storm.

  “Alex, can you get the door?”

  The obnoxious doorbell combined with his mother’s pleading led him to the door, anticipating the excuse Bridge was sure to have for being late, considering that he was the only one that had yet to ar-rive.

  An hour had passed since the last person arrived for the massive dinner party at the Llewellyn household that Celia had asked Ade-laide to throw together, and that guest had been Celia herself. All of his friends were in attendance, including all of their parents, upon Celia’s request. Sterling and Straton had also been invited, but both declined, which Alex had figured would happen. They were once so close to Blanche. He could only imagine how they were handling her brutal murder, especially with both of them still being questioned ruthlessly by Dagger.

  Sure enough, Bridge’s face was the one hidden behind the house’s mahogany ornate opening, wearing a huge lopsided grin that was twisting his face into an effervescent parody of his usual self.

  “I know, I’m late.”

  Alex wrinkled his nose at the friend standing in front of him. “You’re freaking me out. Why are you smiling so much?”

  Bridge smirked. “I was at a bar across town and this guy—”

  “Whoa,” Alex threw a hand up swiftly. “Sorry I asked. Just get in here.”

  He joined Alex inside the lush, modern stylings of the Llewellyn residence, heading into the living room where everyone was relaxing with mouthwatering hors d'oeuvres, save that for Adelaide and Ethan, who were putting the finishing touches on dinner.

  “Bridge,” Celia, who was hanging off the side of the entryway, beamed down at the young man with an eerie, faraway look in her eyes. Almost like her thoughts were somewhere else, somewhere vastly opposed to their current setting and it were affecting her stay within the realm of reality. “It’s good to see you again.”

  He just gave her a nod and the smile that still shined through brightly on his face. “Yeah, you too, Mrs. Shadows.”

  “Oh, I just remembered,” Alex wore an expression of pure forget-fulness, throwing his eyes at Bridge. “I needed to ask you a question about our calc homework.” He gave Celia a shake of his head. “Ex-cuse us, Mrs. Shadows.”

  “Of course, dear.” Celia smiled as they began their walk from the sophisticated woman and to a different part of the house.

  “You seriously have a question about calculus? Because you should know by now that I’m a lost cause on the subject of arithmetic.”

  “I know, I’ve seen your grades from the last quiz.” He sneered at his less mathematically inclined friend. “But would you rather have stuck around and cut up with Sumner’s stepmother?”

  “Good point.”

  Alex led them into the downstairs bedroom, which was the Llewellyn guest room, where their friends had decided to use as their reclusive hangout. While their parents and the others were out in the living room, Abram and Mercer were talking amongst themselves in a room free from listeners when they made their way inside.

  “Finally.” Mercer scoffed at the sight of Bridge as he strutted in with Alex, stepping away from Abram. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, after we all talked about Emmy Walker…” Abram engi-neered, but their friend shook their concerns with the same action with his head.

  “I’m fine. Well, maybe not fine exactly, but I’m alright. I will be.”

  “Well, if you ever need to talk—”

  “I know, Merce.” Bridge cheered, his face visualizing the joy over his friend’s mawkishness. “Anyway, anyone know why Celia is rounding everyone up like cattle?”

  “No idea. Not even Mom knows. Or if she does, she’s not letting on.” The only Llewellyn family member in the room spoke squarely to his friends.

  “And the others?”

  “Our sisters haven’t asked any more questions if that’s what you’re trying to segue to.” Abram nodded.

  “Neither has Kirby.” Mercer added.

  “Alright.” Bridge rolled his shoulders, using the tension in his tendons to signify a shift in their priorities. “How long till we find out, because I’m still feeling the subtle pangs of tequila and Daddy’s hungry.”

  Adelaide announced that dinner was ready just as the friends cackled at Bridge’s comment. Everyone piled into the dining room, making as much room as they could with as many people that were gathered around the adequately massive Llewellyn dining room ta-ble.

  Time skewed as everyone dug into their food, most of them ea-ger to sustain their ravenous appetites. Once everyone had at least some food in their stomachs, Celia clinked her wine glass to halt all conversation, cleared her throat, and stood up from her chair be-tween Adelaide and November. Everyone granted her their atten-tion, set to hear her clarification for this dinner.

  “By now, I’m sure all of you know that I orchestrated this little get together. Hendrick was going to be here, but he had one final meeting.” Celia reconstructed her stance by leaning more to the right. “The reason both Hendrick and I wanted to get all of you in one place, is because he’s come to the decision, after the heinous act in which Blanche Baxxen lost her life, to close Arclan Asylum for good.”

  A crash of quietness fell on them like a sheet of rain falling from a suddenly open cloud. No one spoke right away, but when someone did, the speaker was Athena Wheaton.

  “Why haven’t I been told about this? I’m an employee.”

  “That’s why Hendrick was supposed to be here.” Celia nodded. “He wanted to tell you himself.”

  “What’s going to happen to the building?” Clay asked.

  “And what about the patients?” Steven pondered.

  Celia opened her mouth to respond, her jaw slightly jerking as everyone heard the front door of the Llewellyn residence swing on its hinges in a burst of kinetic action. The motion to move didn’t rustle any of them to check out the malevolent disturbance, mainly due to the culprit being Hendrick Shadows. He stuck his salt and pepper contrasted head into the dining room, his eyes finding Ethan and Adelaide as they stood up from the heads of the dining room table.

  “I’m so sorry about just barreling in here,” Hendrick spoke in be-tween gaspy intakes, his lungs grabbing at a chance for chaste breaths. “I was trying to get here before Celia broke the news.”

  At that admission, Celia stepped closer to her husband, her eye-brows arching up at him in mock question marks. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Not anymore.” he smiled.

  “Hendrick, what’s happening?” Araec leapt at the question, beat-ing everyone else to it.

  “Arclan isn’t closing.”

  All the adults and teenagers present felt the tense prickling sensa-tion of confusion combust over them like an alcoholic rain.

  “How?” Adelaide asked.

  “Ever since I’ve come to this decision, I’ve been trying to come up with one last effort, one last option before I completely gave in.” Hendrick halted his decree, his eyes falling over the faces of everyone there. “We all know that...that my son—” he stopped himself once more, tears singeing the rims of his eyes as he felt the full typhoon of his emotions whirling at the helm of his core. “That Sumner proba-bly is the one behind Blanche’s murder. And that thought is consum-ing me.”

  “Hendrick,” Celia’s tone was full of sympathy and concern for her husband’s well-being and state of mind.

  But he just shook his head at his worrisome wife. Everyone just kept staring at him, waiting for more words to spew forth from Hendrick’s mouth, the audience craving his jagged barbs of infor-matio
n.

  “But, despite my personal turmoil, I couldn’t let my father’s lega-cy die without expunging all of my choices. So, I agreed to meet with someone looking to make an investment, someone willing and able to breathe new life into my father’s mission of helping those who couldn’t help themselves, no matter their backgrounds or reasons. And that someone is saving Arclan, coming in and helping run it with fresh eyes and new ideas for the safety of our patients and our staff. And if it’s alright, I’d like to introduce the savior of Arclan Asy-lum.”

  No one felt abrasive enough to object, so Hendrick called around the corner, beckoning someone to reveal themselves.

  A vibrant middle-aged woman with soft fair skin stepped into the dining room, a chic nude hued trench coat that looked right off the runway hiding her fit frame, her nude top and black pants snugging her body perfectly. Her hair was completely grey, almost silver because it had been dyed the lighter hue from her natural dark color. Her dark, looming eyes scanned over all of them, silently calculating all of them with excruciating intent that none of them were quite sure of.

  The woman was trailed by a young man, presumably her son, judging by their shared likeness. His brown hair was slicked back, perfectly highlighting the savory chocolate eyes they both donned. His outfit oddly mirrored the woman’s, a khaki shirt paired with his deep brown leather jacket and black jeans. And his hands were cov-ered in tattoos.

  But Bridge didn’t get to call out his hot bar hook-up because Kir-by and Athena almost broke their chairs as they ascended to their feet. The woman and her son too felt their irises expand once they rolled over the mother and daughter duo.

  “Maxima?”

  “Salem?”

  The grey-haired vixen, Maxima, remained silent, too stunned to speak and her jaw open in awe as she gawked at them. But her son, Salem, couldn’t keep himself as contained as his mother.

  “Kirby?”

  In a few gasps and exasperated sounds of astonishment, Kirby ran over to him as he did the same. They collided right behind a standing Ethan, arms wrapping around familiar and seemingly forgotten bodies.