Silenced

by Leddy Harper

  “W–what are you talking about?” I hadn’t kept up with anything since I left Baltimore. I had no idea what Josh had been doing, so Dalton’s apology threw me for a loop. “What do you mean by the things he’s capable of?”

  “He wasn’t always good to you, and I never stepped in. I feel horrible for letting him speak to you the way he did. I just thought he was trying to sound good in front of other people. I assumed you never would’ve stayed with him if he truly treated you that way. So I’m sorry.”

  “You called me to say that? It’s fine, Dalton. Nothing to apologize for. I’m okay.”

  “Well, at least now you won’t have to worry about hearing from him.”

  “What does that mean?” My heart skipped a beat.

  He sighed, and I swear his pauses lasted for eons. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what? Stop talking in circles and please just tell me.”

  “He, um…he’s gone. He’s dead.”

  “What? How? When?”

  “It happened a few days ago…that’s why I thought you might’ve heard.”

  “No. I left Baltimore. I’ve been in Tennessee and haven’t kept up with him. How? How did he die?” My words came out so fast I didn’t think he’d understand me, but I couldn’t slow it down. I couldn’t slow down my breathing or my heartbeat.

  “He was stabbed to death in—”

  “Stabbed?” A harsh ringing only I could hear pierced my ears. I grew lightheaded and had a hard time pulling in enough oxygen to clear the haze surrounding me. “You said this happened a few days ago?”

  “Yeah. Three days ago.”

  I couldn’t stop the train my thoughts had hijacked. All I could think about was Killian. How he’d been gone. How I hadn’t seen him or heard from him. For over a week. How he’d come back two days ago. One day after Josh was stabbed. To death.

  It couldn’t be.

  It couldn’t be.

  My phone fell to my lap, the call disconnected, and I bent over the steering wheel to catch my breath. I needed to put things into perspective. I needed to believe Killian wouldn’t have done something like this. But he would. He had. The other two men who’d broken into his home when he was a child were…dead. Murdered. And Killian had admitted to being the one who ended their lives.

  I flew into action without an ounce of thought as to what I would do. I had no idea of the words I’d use—if any. I wanted answers, but I also didn’t think I’d be able to hear it come from Killian. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle knowing the truth.

  When I’d gotten into my car before the phone call, I knew I had a decision to make, and I was prepared to make it. I was prepared to accept Killian for who he was, despite some of the things he’d done, because I could understand—on some basic human level—why he felt it was necessary. But now…now there was no way. There was no excuse for what he did. None.

  My decision had been made.

  And it wasn’t the one that would lead to him being a father to my child.

  I stomped up the front steps and stormed into the house. The front door had been left wide open, as well as all the windows on the first floor. The only sound filling the empty space was banging, maybe a hammer and a nail. Adrenaline drove me to the back of the house where I found Killian nailing a piece of wood to the wall.

  He was shirtless with only a pair of jeans slung low on his hips, a tool belt hanging from the waistband. His tattoos were on full display and a sheen of sweat clung to his bare skin, reflecting off the light through the window at his side. Had this been any other day, any time other than moments after Dalton’s call, I would’ve been in a puddle at his feet. But it wasn’t. I’d known the truth, and there wasn’t a thing he or his hard body could do to break me down.

  When I came to stand behind him, leaving six or seven feet of space between us, he turned around to face me. His eyes bore into mine—confusion and relief swirling around in the pale-green color. But he didn’t speak. He stood there, frozen in time, reminding me so much of the man I’d seen in the gym that first night.

  “So do you feel better now? You feel like you got your revenge? Found your voice?” My words shook with the tears threatening to spill down my face. They were a mixture of anger and sadness. I was pissed at him for so much, but mostly for what he did to Josh after I’d made it very clear how I felt about what he did to the other two. And then I was sad. Because I felt as if I’d completely lost the image of who I’d always seen him as. He was no longer the man of my dreams. The one I thought I’d love for the rest of my life. That man was gone. He’d left me standing alone in my back yard over five years ago and never returned.

  Killian nodded and blinked a few times, clearly confused by my reaction to him.

  “Why?” I cried. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Wait.” He stepped forward, causing me to take a step back. Over and over again until I met a wall and couldn’t retreat any farther. He stopped an arm’s length away and furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Josh! You think I wouldn’t find out? Did you really believe I’d never know what you did?”

  “Rylee,” he whispered my name and shook his head. “I thought you’d be happy about that. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “You thought I wanted you to kill him?” I shouted with tears streaking my face.

  “Kill him? No. I didn’t kill him.”

  “Then what did you do? What are you talking about?”

  He huffed and hung his head, running his fingers through his hair. A few strands fell forward and swayed against his heavy breathing. When he looked back up, into my eyes, I saw something, but I had no idea what. To me, it seemed like pride. But that didn’t make much sense to me.

  “I went to the police,” he admitted and waited for my response, which I didn’t give him. “Elise and I went to the authorities in New Hope. I told them everything. I told them about the night my parents were murdered—everything they’d asked me when I was a kid but I wasn’t able to tell them. I gave them Josh’s name and turned him in.”

  “B–but…he’s dead. Josh is dead.”

  Killian nodded and bit his lip. “Yeah, but I didn’t kill him.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I told you. I turned him in. They went to him and asked him a few questions, and he confessed. He admitted to killing my parents and attacking me. I didn’t think he would, but he did. He died in prison—one of the other inmates stabbed him. Rylee…no matter what you may think of me, what I’ve done to make you hate me, I’m not that kind of person. I never would’ve killed him no matter how badly I’d wanted to.”

  “But…you were gone. You weren’t here. And he died. Where were you?”

  “I had to go back to New Hope for his sentencing.”

  I was so confused, and the more answers he had, the worse it got. Nothing made sense, yet at the same time, it was completely clear. I felt like I was stuck in a dense fog, trying to find my way out, getting lost over and over again. “What about the others? You killed them.”

  He shook his head and took a step back. “You’re right. I have their blood on my hands. But it’s not what you think. I’m not innocent. But I’m not a monster, either.” He paused, more than likely to see if I’d stop him. When I didn’t speak up or move, he continued. “I tracked them down after I left here. In my head, they got away with destroying my family and stole my childhood. I wanted to see what kind of life they had. I wanted to show them my face and let them know what they had done to me. I needed them to see—as adults—the chaos their actions had left behind.

  “Jameson wasn’t easy to find. He was a junkie. Addicted to heroin. But I eventually located him. I sat with him in his living room—which was in this nasty, rundown apartment building occupied by other lowlifes and junkies. He was high, fucked out of his mind, but he knew who I was. I couldn’t understand too much of what he said, but it was enough to know he didn’t walk away clean. He didn’t leave my house tha
t night and go on with his life.”

  “That doesn’t explain how he died, and why you say you have his blood on your hands.”

  “Jameson was the kid who stood back that night. He was the one who didn’t stop the others. When Josh came after me, all Jameson did was stand there and beg Josh not to kill me. But he didn’t stop it. Jameson didn’t turn his friends in or do the right thing. So when he stuck the needle into his vein, I didn’t do anything to stop him. I sat back and watched, exactly what he did to me. I knew he was high. I knew he was already on something, but I didn’t stop him from injecting that shit into himself. And when his life faded away, I didn’t call for help. I didn’t do anything other than sit there and watch him die.”

  Tears came on so fast I couldn’t see beyond them. His silhouette was nothing but a blur. “What about the other one? What happened with him? What did you do to him? He was stabbed, Killian! Nineteen times! Just like your father. That’s not a coincidence.”

  “No…it’s not.”

  Thirty

  Killian

  She practically begged for me to lie to her. To tell her I had nothing to do with either death. That I was the man she always thought me to be. But I couldn’t give her that comfort. I refused to stand there and lie to her while looking into her tear-filled eyes.

  The truth gutted me.

  But it was all I had to give.

  “When I found him—Lance, the one who’d stabbed my dad—I didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t an addict like Jameson. In fact, he wore business suits and lived in a nice house. He had a good job and seemed to have done well for himself. It pissed me off, because that was the image I’d had in my head all those years. He’d ruined my life and then went on to live in the lap of luxury. I hated him. But I never went there to kill him.”

  “Then what did you go there for?”

  “To show my face. To speak to him. Let him hear it all from my mouth so he would have to live with the sound of it for the rest of his life. I wanted him to see my pain. Hear it. Feel it. But I didn’t want to kill him—well, obviously I wanted to, but I never would have. What had happened with Jameson was bad enough. It made me feel dirty, like I was no better than they were. But I continued to try to justify it to myself. Jameson was a junkie, ending his own life.”

  I stepped away even farther, needing the space in order to tell her the truth.

  “I’d followed him to a strip club several times. Each time was the same as the last. He’d sit against the far wall and drink water. I never once saw him drink anything with alcohol in it. Each night, one of the strippers would go to him, he’d pull her to the back, and then he’d return about ten minutes later. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he went back there to do. But one night, he didn’t return to his seat. So I went after him, wondering where they’d gone. There was an exit at the end of the hallway he’d disappeared down, so I went out the front and snuck around the side of the building. It was dark, but there was just enough light to see where I was going. Between the moon and the dim, flickering bulbs off the top of the building, I was able to see enough. Like the stripper on the dirty ground with her arms wrapped around her legs. And the man propped against the brick wall, hunched over with his limp dick hanging out of his pants.”

  Rylee gasped but didn’t say anything. I gave her a moment before continuing.

  “The woman was hysterical, her makeup was smeared all over her face, her mascara running down her cheeks. She just kept repeating it wasn’t her fault, that he’d attacked her. That’s when I saw the knife sticking out of his neck. I told her to run, and once she was gone, I took the knife and stabbed him eighteen more times. I didn’t even think about it. The only thing I saw was a horrible man who’d killed my dad and then attacked this innocent woman in an alley. All I could think of was the number of times he slid his knife into my father’s chest. It wasn’t until I’d reached the number eighteen that I even realized what I’d done.”

  “Was he…was he…?

  “Yes,” I said to spare her from finishing her question. “He was already dead before I got there. It was a small pocket knife, but big enough that when she stuck it in his neck, he bled out. He didn’t have a chance by the time I got back there. He was already gone.”

  “So you just left? You fucking stabbed a man—dead or not—and just left?”

  I nodded, not even having an excuse for my actions. “I found out later that the woman was stopped a few blocks away. She was covered in blood, and someone had called the cops. When they started their investigation, other women from other clubs came forward, claiming he’d done the same thing to them.”

  “Then how come no one did anything about it?”

  “One woman did. She’d called the cops on him, but nothing was ever done about it. I guess the others were too scared or strung out to say anything.” I sighed and leaned against the wall. “I know a thing or two about not coming forward with information about a crime. I can’t blame them for not talking.”

  Rylee glanced at her feet and twisted her hands in front of her. “So, about Josh. You turned him in? And he confessed?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think anything would be done about it since so much time had passed, but Elise promised me that if I came forward, I’d feel vindicated. That if I said something, told the authorities about what he’d done, I’d find some semblance of peace again. But that didn’t happen. I didn’t feel better when he was arrested or when he pled guilty in front of a judge.”

  I crossed the room and took her hands in mine, urging her to look at me.

  “I didn’t feel better until I stood in front of that same judge, in front of a roomful of people, and told my story. That’s when I felt vindicated. That’s when I was no longer silenced. At his sentencing, telling everyone the things he did, what he said, the scars and nightmares I’ve lived with ever since then…that’s when I found my voice.”

  More tears cascaded down her cheeks, except these weren’t formed by sorrow or anger. Her brows no longer pinched and her eyes didn’t squint. They were round and soft. Full of contentment and peace. Pride. Love.

  For the first time since she kicked me out of her apartment, I started to believe I had a fighting chance. I’d bought a house, worked night and day to fix it up, sent her gifts and letters in the hopes she’d forgive me. But not once did I allow myself to believe it could happen until this moment. This very second.

  “How did you do all that without the cops knowing you were there when the other two died? How did you not get in trouble for that? I don’t understand. Didn’t Josh say anything? Didn’t he try to turn you in?” Her voice was so soft, barely a whisper.

  I shook my head. “They were already closed cases. Their names did come up when I gave my statement, but no one ever questioned anything. And I guess Josh didn’t feel it necessary to do or say anything about it. I found out he suffered from delusional paranoia. He’d been medicated, and had gone off and on his meds several times.”

  “He told me his mom suffered the same thing.”

  “His dad was there. He spoke after I did. I thought he’d ask for leniency, which he kind of did, but not the way I’d expected him to. He told the judge Josh was safer in custody—to himself and to others. He was sentenced to life, but while they were getting ready to transport him to a different correctional facility, one of the other inmates got to him.” I tilted my head and asked, “You thought I killed him?”

  “Well, yeah. I’m not saying what you did to the other guys is all right, but it’s not at all what I thought. I thought you…killed them.” It was clearly difficult for her to admit that. “It’s a hard pill to swallow, Killian. Like, how can I be okay with you murdering them, but hate Josh for what he did? If I hate him for stealing the life of another, shouldn’t I feel the same about anyone doing it? I love you, and that will never change. No matter what you did or didn’t do, I will always love you. But sometimes, love has nothing to do with acceptance.”

  “I don’t think I know what
you’re saying.”

  She sighed and glanced at the ceiling for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “I’ve always hated seeing the parents of murderers come to their defense. I understand love. I understand how blind and stupid it can be. But to say the love you have for someone holds more weight than the love of a victim’s family…that’s just ignorant.”

  “I understand.” My heart sank. I could barely breathe. What she said made sense. It was real, raw, and honest. It was the truth. I turned around, because I couldn’t bear to see her walk away.

  I couldn’t watch her give up on me.

  It was hard enough hearing it.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday. It’s an ultrasound, so we’ll get to see the baby. Would you like to go?” Her words were soft, yet firm, no hint of them shaking with fear or rejection. If anything, they were surrounded by hope.

  I spun around so fast I almost got whiplash. “You…you want me to go with you?”

  Her smile brightened the entire room. “Yeah. A baby is a new beginning, right? What better way to start it off than with pictures of the life we created? I want you there. I don’t know what’ll happen between us or where things go from here, but I do know I don’t want to do this without you.”

  “Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.” It’d been so long since I’d felt any level of joy, so what ran through me right then practically made me high. It made me believe my darkest days were behind me.

  I just had to continue with what I was doing.

  Building us a life with my bare hands.

  Loving her every single day, and reminding her of it.

  And like the night waits for the moon, I’d wait for her.

  Thirty-One

  Rylee

  I’d been nervous for days.