by Elen Chase
"But she wasn't his lover," I whispered. It matched what fish face had told Dan. But he was absolutely certain that wasn't the case. Jacques had just said it too: they had the wrong person.
"No, she wasn't. Drew..." Sean called my name with a serious tone of voice, "I found out a colleague from my college is working for the Colten house, and I went to talk with him this morning. His name is Spencer." Fish face. Sean must have really felt horrible for Ms. Wilson's death. I realized only by that time; he was so shocked about it that he went to meet that guy alone.
"What did he tell you?" My stomach knotted again.
"He said that she couldn't be Colten's lover, because he… was into young men. When he started working for him, he was told by an older waiter ‘you're lucky he already has somebody, or they would have asked you.’ Nobody ever saw this guy. Colten was so jealous someone could see him, that he reserved entire areas of the house just for him. Spencer suspected he was also there, at the villa…"
Another person… at the villa… I felt like throwing up.
"Drew… does this remind you of something?" Sean took something out of his pocket. "Spencer told me he found this after Colten's death, when he was ordered to go empty his rooms. The master had hidden it in a golden little box, inside one of his drawers… He's sure it belonged to him."
“I bet my mother gave it to you.”
A brilliant, red, drop-shaped earring.
“She gave me the pair, but at some point I lost one.”
An's earring.
"It took me a while to recognize it… but the three of you must have seen it countless times," said Sean. "Drew, where is he now?"
Sean's voice grew further away. I lifted my head and saw Sara avoiding my gaze, tears slowly and inexorably running on her cheeks. So Sean had told her already.
Dan, this is just a big misunderstanding, isn't it?
When we ran from the main building to the guesthouse of the villa, he seemed to know the way very well.
I told myself you just had a good memory for places.
“Ask yourself if you really want to know who he is.”
I pretended I had no idea.
“You're crying… Is it for Shallie?”
But I already knew.
“I stole everything from her.”
Deep down, I knew it.
"Life is unfair, it bends you to the breaking point, and I know that often your efforts don't bring any result. But things can change, and you can change them.”
Dan, did you know that Shallie used to tell me that?
What I was afraid of was looking into his eyes and finding out that he already knew.
That's why you ran away from me.
“I know you want to believe in me, but I don't deserve it.”
You knew it all along.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”
That I didn't want to know what you were apologizing for.
“I let her die, and that was just the beginning.”
That I didn't want to face it… a truth where you did something I could never forgive.
Chapter 61
Sean had really set his mind to go deeper into it. He never liked Dan, so I guessed a part of him enjoyed finding out that his suspicions toward him were right. He had talked with other servants of the Coltens, asking about him. Only two of them knew of his existence, but nobody ever actually saw him. They said that the master's sexual preferences were a secret, considering he had to keep up the appearances for the public opinion, so he didn’t personally go find these boys to keep him company, but he had someone he trusted do it for him. The problem was that these guys never lasted long; they all left in a week or so. Probably because the ridiculous sum of money he was giving them for a week was already enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, and also because he was one who “liked it rough,” so to speak. “The one who arrived in November”, as they were referring to Dan, was an unexpected exception. Not only he didn't leave, but he seemed to know exactly what to do to give the master what he wanted. Apparently, Colten lost his head for him. He covered him in gold and promised him to find him a good position in politics, making him his heir.
"If he brought him to the villa," said Sean, "I suspect he wanted to let him into the sect as an assistant… He has the knife, I’m sure of it."
I couldn't hear any more of that. It hurt too much.
I felt a contorting heaviness rising in my chest. I tried gasping for air, but it was like my throat was sealed by a stone and I couldn't breathe right. All the voices and the sounds around me slowly faded away, and I lost contact with reality. I let myself fall on my knees and threw up on the floor as the world was falling apart, hoping it would stop, hoping it was all a dream. Memories of the last months spent together flashed before my eyes, becoming a nightmare; his smile, his kindness, his lips, his skin, his tears. What is true? What is a lie? Is he on my side? Is he not? Is all that goes on between us real? Did I imagine it all? I was destroyed inside. Have I been used? Used for what? Played with? Why? Did he laugh at me behind my back? Was all that happened in the past months an act? Is he really so good at acting? How could he do this to me, how?
Falling in a deep desperation, I lost all sense of time and space. I found myself in my bed, in our bed, asking myself how I had even gotten there, and then the very thought of being there, of the evenings spent rolling in the sheets in a needy, intense lovemaking, started haunting me, and I felt under my skin all the sensations of his touch on me. But what was pleasure, joy and excitement had turned into pain, sadness and rage. With those emotions consuming me, before I realized it, it was morning again. Again? I had the feeling I'd already seen the light of day coming from the window. How much time has passed? Days? Weeks? Or maybe not even a second, and the time got slower only in my head. But most of all, does it even matter?
Maybe I should be angry. Hate can prove itself a useful ally. Nobody can blame me for it, right? He knew of Shallie, no, he knew Shallie, he was there. All the time, I looked all over for a truth that was right by my side; and him? He watched me struggling, while helping me to get to this point. He fooled me. But why? Why? Why? Why guide me into it, why bring me so close to the truth and then abandon me when I was about to find out about him? His actions make no sense. What is his purpose? Does he have any interest in doing this? Is he using me for his own plans? I want to think that’s the case. I want to hate him. Did he watch Shallie die? Did it ever come to his mind that he could have helped her? Was he one of them? Was he an accomplice in her murder? I can’t believe it.
I hid my face in the pillow, muffling my screams. I could feel his smell on it, that smell I loved so much.
Fuck it, Dan, do you realize those people caused An's death? Did you know?
There's no way he knew it… He’s not like this, the Dan I know is not like this. But who is the Dan I know? He might have never existed in the first place. Was it guilt I saw in his tears? Or were those tears fake too? Is it all his fault? He hid everything because he had somehow a role in Shallie's death? I want to think he had; this way maybe I’ll be able to get up from this bed to react somehow. I think somebody is also telling me to react, somebody that comes to see me often. Who was it again?
As I asked myself that, I saw a plate with some food in it on my bedside table. Have I been eating at all? I don’t remember feeling any hunger or thirst. I don’t remember ever going to the toilet. I can remember only the slicing pain in my chest that makes me drown in my own tears whenever my mind goes back to him. Is this real? Is this my real life? I am probably sleeping. Somewhere outside of this hell Shallie is still alive, and we are planning to go live together after I graduate from the academy. I am going to wake up in my bed in my parents’ house, in a city where no crazy rich asshole is killing women following a fake prophecy in a book that is nothing more than literature we study at school. And Dan was never here, he’s an old friend I lost when he moved to Downtown. He was a friend, just a friend, and now he’s nothin
g. That must be the real world, and this is just a nightmare. Because he can’t be real; he couldn’t have rushed again into my life, earned my trust, made all my defenses fall, just to find out it was all a lie.
I hate being like this. I can’t let this fire consume me even more. I’m not strong enough to stand in front of what could have really happened. I feel little. I feel weak.
I found myself throwing up again, this time on the floor in the bathroom. It seemed I couldn’t reach the toilet in time. Somewhere in my head I got the idea that it wasn't the first time it was happening. I forced myself to stand up and looked at myself in the mirror; I couldn't recognize the person reflecting in it. I was pale and thin, and I found myself disgusting. I punched the mirror, which broke into a thousand pieces that cut through my skin, causing a red line of blood to roll down my arm. It had taken me probably too much strength, and I fell again on the floor on my hands and knees, tired, pain pulsing and spreading throughout my body from my injuries. Blood was flowing from the cuts that the glass pieces made on me. A lot of blood. Is it normal for all this blood to come out? I moved my eyes, looking at my body, and then I realized that a big glass fragment had pierced my left hand from side to side. Yet I didn’t feel any need to medicate it. It doesn’t hurt much compared to the pain I feel inside. That thought made me laugh hysterically. I pulled the glass piece out, observing blood spreading slowly on the tiles on the floor. It sure is a lot. Am I going to die? If I die, this will stop. All of it. I will go back to Shallie and An. I would die breaking my promise to her, but at least I’d leave behind a starting point for anybody that will come after me and will be strong enough to bring the sect to an end. Dying doesn’t seem so bad. Whether it is an end or a new beginning like many believe, it doesn't matter to me anymore.
My mind blanked, and I let myself fall on the hard, cold floor. I closed my eyes, too tired to think, too tired to live. In the darkness a sudden realization came to my mind: Dan will remain in this world. He will, right? Will he stay alive? What will he do? Finally, he will be alone. Alone with his lies, alone with his remorse, alone with his pain. He built around himself a wall made of deception and suffering. No matter how many people will get close to him, nobody can reach him. Nobody. Maybe that’s what he deserves, or maybe that’s what he wants. I could never know; I know nothing about him. I don't know who he is, I don't know what he thinks.
The only thing I know, is how precious the mirage I had of him is. It might be fake, but it's special. It's part of me. It's in my flesh, it's what keeps me living. That will end soon, though; I’m dying. And the Dan that's sweet, caring, reliable, stubborn, irritating and absolutely adorable will die with me; what will be left behind of him when I'm gone? Lies and death.
My eyes opened. I don't want this.
An unknown energy arose from somewhere inside of me, and I suddenly felt the urge to get up and scream. I don't want everything to disappear. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to abandon that Dan. He is everything to me. What I know of him may all be a lie, but still, it's everything to me. I want him back. I want my Dan back. And if he never existed, I want him to tell that to my face. I can't die now. I want to live. I want to get back to him.
I was losing a lot of blood and felt dizzy. That’s when I saw on my wrist a deep cut that wasn't there before. Did I do this myself? When? My head was spinning and I found myself incredibly sleepy. No, not now… I don't want to die. I'm scared, terrified. I want to see him. I want to see him again. I cried desperately, and finally I began to feel a strong pain all over my body, which miraculously kept me awake. My wrist, my hands, and my legs hurt so much. I'm still alive. I dragged myself out of the bathroom, to the living room, then I rushed to the front door, drops of blood falling on the floor with every step. I got out and heard voices getting closer from the stairs; I screamed for help, as my vision blurred and I lost consciousness. I don't want to die… I want to see him again. Those were the last thoughts that came to my mind before falling in a dark, deep sleep.
◆◆◆
"I should have never left him alone!" I heard a girl crying, far away from me. My eyelids were heavy; I couldn't seem to open my eyes.
"Nobody thought he would do such a thing. Don't blame yourself," another familiar voice was saying in a comforting tone of voice. It was Chloe.
"He hasn’t been himself since that day, since he left..." replied Sara, still in tears. "He spends all day in bed crying. Even if I talk to him and he replies, I can tell he's not really here."
"I'm so sorry," I said, but only a cracked whisper would come out. I finally managed to open my eyes, and beside me there were Sara, Chloe and Sean, looking dead worried for me.
"I'll call the doctor," said Chloe, and she ran off to another room.
"Drew, do you recognize me?" Sara asked me.
"Sara..." I tried to lift my hand up to her, to dry her tears, but a flash of pain stopped me. I looked up and realized I had an I.V. connected to my veins. The door of the room opened, and the old lady came in with a doctor, who visited me and asked me several questions.
"Do you know where we are?"
"No." I wasn't home or at Sara's place. It was a bright room with traditional furniture I couldn't recognize.
"What day is it today?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
"I broke the mirror… then my head blanked… when I came to, I was like this."
"Does it happen often? That your head blanks."
"… I don't know." I was way too confused.
"It's alright, your conditions seem stable now," said the doctor with a smile of courtesy. "Madam, may I have a word with you?" he asked the old lady, and they left the room.
"Drew, we are at Mama's place now," Sara told me. "Today is August 22."
"Wha— " More than a month. How could I waste so much time? What if something happened to him in the meantime? "Is Dan… do you know if he's alright?"
As I asked that, Sara and Sean gave me a surprised look. Probably because before that moment, simply hearing his name would cause me an emotional breakdown.
"In a message Domme got on his watchpad, David Jacques said they had retrieved the knife… but nothing else," said Sean, turning his face away from me.
"So he went to them… that's good, as long as he's fine," I said, partially relieved. They have no reason to hurt him, right? If he gave them the knife back…
"Drew… " Sara was looking at me as if I had gone crazy.
"I want him back," I said, dead serious. I couldn't waste any more time.
"Despite all he did to you?" Sean asked me.
"I'll never know what he did unless I take him back."
"Do you want to forgive him?" he asked.
"It's not even about forgiving him… I just can't live, leaving things like this."
"What about the sect then?" Sara asked me.
"There's still time until the 10th of September… Have you found out if the location is really the graveyard?"
"Yes," said Chloe, coming back from the other room, "there's really an atomic shelter down there, like we thought."
"This might be all useless," said Sean, "or a trap. He might have told them everything about us."
"If he did, why are we still alive, Sean?" Chloe told him.
"He could decide to betray us and tell them anytime!" he said, angry. "That guy is a ticking time bomb."
"You're right," I said. "That's exactly why I'm bringing him back."
"Drew, are you sure that's what you really want?" Sara seemed truly concerned about my conditions.
"I'm sure," I reassured her. "Even if you give up on him… even if the whole world gives up on him, I won't let him go."
Sean came closer to me and shook my shoulders. "Drew, you’re speaking out of desperation. Try to clear your head!"
"No, Sean… this is just how much I love him." Just putting it into words made me feel a lot better.
Chapter 62.a
&
nbsp; Winter that year was unbearably cold. Lying on an armchair next to the window, I watched small gray snowflakes fall down the white sky in silence. Regardless of the hot coffee I was drinking and the gown I had on, cold shivers ran throughout my body, as if blood was about to freeze in my veins. I wrapped myself in the blanket that was covering my legs, leaving only my arms, meant to hold my coffee cup, out of my shell.
"I'm sorry, I need to take your temperature," the maid told me, a gentle smile on her lips. She was a former nurse, and she had been taking care of me since I had first gotten there, three months before. "It's getting higher again. Should I bring you something to eat before the medicine?"
"I'm not hungry," I said, turning my head back toward the window. The snowflakes were getting bigger and falling faster.
"The master sent some flowers for you."
"Throw them away."
"You don't even want to take a look at them?" she asked. I slowly turned my head toward her.
"Will you get in trouble if he comes here and doesn't find them?" She sadly smiled at me, saying nothing. "Put them on the bedside table." She did as I said, brought me the medicine and began to clean up the room.
"Do you like snow?" she asked me after a while.
"No," my breath was unsteady and words came out in a sort of tired whisper, "it's cold, makes visibility worse and just causes troubles for people who have to work."
"Ha-ha, I see… I guess you're right. I just thought you liked it, since you've been staring at it so intensely."
"I do like the way it falls down, slowly covering everything... It reminds me of how dust moves."
"Dust?"
"It's my very first memory. Sitting in the corner of the living room, I'd watch the dust shine against the light coming in from the window." Silently. Silence was what I liked the most. My mother and her husband used to fight every single day, and since I can remember, I'd always heard their screams; maybe that's why I enjoyed silence so much and was scared of sudden noises instead. I was often woken up by a slamming door and loud voices. Even though I felt like crying when it happened, I soon figured out that it would only bring the screams closer to me, so I learned to do it in silence... to keep the scary yelling away from me. Slowly, I closed myself in what my psychologist once defined as a glass jar. I heard everything, but no reaction would come out of me. I don't know what I was thinking, or even if I was thinking at all.