I drove up to remote areas in the high hills were the city lights couldn’t touch, trying to find the small cluster he had shown me. There I would pretend I was with him because if people really could earn a place in the stars, he certainly would have made it. But those moments only brought infinitesimal amount of relief because the dark hole quickly sucked them in, reminding me he was gone.
I had gotten lucky for a few weeks when Stacey took her annual Bahamas trip with her family because then I was free to sink into a dispirited nothingness, too physically drained from bawling hysterically to focus on the emptiness in me. By the time she got back I was arid and though it still hurt, I was done crying and I was done feeling sorry for myself; it was time to function again. I picked up as many shifts as I could to keep myself distracted but without classes I had too much free time. I needed a hobby, so I found a local archery range and there I found liberation with every arrow released from my fingers. The determination to be better and improve my accuracy slowly began to build a narrow bridge over the gap inside me, keeping me from falling, and so I found a way to live with it. I had even mastered the art of plastering fake smiles and feigning bubbly talks and though I am certain Stacey never did quite believe nothing happened, we eventually got on to being how we use to.
I thought of him constantly, I could still feel the sensation of his touch, and the luminous eyes and crooked smile stood out bright against a dull canvas but the adventure became an echo, fading slightly with each replay, feeling more and more like a dream with only the ache to remind me of the reality. I knew he was with me, living on in my heart, but once I was gone he would be too and nobody else would ever speak his name or know of his story. He would fade out as though he never existed and the thought made the hole grow, becoming too wide for the bridge I had built to stay intact… but I knew how to fix it. I would write of it. The work might never be published and even if it was, it would only be seen as a fictional tale or that I had simply lost my mind but still his name would be read, his story would be told, and he would be remembered by someone. He deserved that.
The madness of it consumed me and my free time became spent at the computer desk typing away. The story was easy to tell, but there would never be words bright enough to paint him; it would only be a shadow of what he really was but shade or not, there in my writing he existed once again, and I felt myself being swept back into it almost as if I had crawled right back through the portal.
I spooned a bite of strawberry yogurt into my mouth, patiently waiting for my computer to power up, hands itching to get on the keyboard, inspired by the sermon at church. I clicked open my document and began, words flowing through me as my fingers rapidly moved across the keyboard trying to keep up, but at that same moment a dark etching caught my eye. I glanced at my bracelet then rubbed my eyes. Either the computer screen had impaired my vision or insanity had truly taken me because not only did it seem that my bracelet was changing texture, going from smooth to rough, but I could have sworn I saw a small inscription being etched into it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I opened them once more but when I did the etching was still magically happening before me: Ego vobiscum sum … I am with you. The Latin inscription! My heart was exploding, filling the void and the pressure stopped me from moving as I stared mesmerized at the inscription. Could it really be him? But I had seen him at his last breath. This was cruel, it was sick, I was just finally becoming somewhat normal and here it was taking me back to the edge of lunacy, but then at the end of the inscription there was a drawing: a bird.
No… a raven.
I jumped up and flung open my closet door to the backpack that I hadn’t touched since my final and dug through the pictures finding the one of the frame, but it was still empty. It was still a blank picture of a stone with a hilt-less sword.
Nothing had changed.
I sighed sinking to the floor, but I felt a strange magnetic pull—a calling—and I knew I had lost my mind; I knew Mr. Riley would have me committed, but I had to go. I just had to. The pull was too strong. I threw the burgundy dress into the backpack, grabbed the emerald that lay safe and untouched in my jewelry box, and I bolted out of my room.
“Where are you going?” Stacey called, panic-stricken from the couch as she sat up immediately.
“On a hot date,” I called, grinning to myself as I ran out the door, down the three flights of stairs, and through the parking lot to my car.
*****
I pushed open the museum doors, thankful Mr. Riley wasn’t at the front and that it was Melissa. She looked at me oddly, and I flashed my best fake grin.
“Hi Melissa,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Mr. Riley said I could have another look in the storage units. He said to just go back there.”
She looked at me; twisting her mouth to the side. “Mr. Riley doesn’t want anyone back there…” she started.
“No, he said it was fine,” I pushed. “He has some things that belong to my grandfather.” She shrugged her shoulders, and I was either a much better actress than I thought or she was far too lazy to care enough to even question it. I went with the later.
I rushed down to the familiar aisle B4, my heart thumping painfully in my chest sending tremors to every part of my body, and I saw the tattered red curtain. I pulled it back, revealing the same scene from my photograph; the empty field with a large boulder and just like before my bracelet began to glow wonderful swirls of green and purple. My heart soared, this was happening; it was finally time. I took a deep breath and opened the backpack, grasping the small cool emerald tightly between my fingers. Slowly I looked up…
And it was opening.
Epilogue
The beautiful young girl dressed in strange garments lay motionless on the grass. Slowly her conscious mind caught up to her body, as her big blue eyes fluttered open. She lithely jumped to her feet, face exhilarated and full of joy, as she glanced around the open field.
She called out the raven’s name…
…but it wasn’t him who answered…
Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) Page 32