Roar

by Cage, Aria

  I can’t believe he is comparing her to a mutt. Though, once upon a time, Connor was a veterinarian, so I get it. I’m actually glad he went there instead of the horrible story of his life. He lost his wife and daughter to a home invasion. In one night they invaded everything dear in his life and after tracking the monsters down and killing them, he shared a cell with me. I would have done the same.

  I know all this; he told me years ago. My mind still betrays me by thinking of it. I’m just not ready to go there with Charlie in mind; my heart just isn’t ready to face all Charlie has already gone through.

  “Connor, I will assure her to trust you. She’ll be a while in that office, and it’s not like you have to take her across state; you’re just coming across town.”

  “You ever taken a feral cat in a car?”

  “Will you stop with the animal analogies? You’re freaking me out.”

  “I don’t know any other way. I’m better with animals than humans.”

  I laugh, because it’s funny and the truth. “You’re fine with me.”

  “You’re the biggest animal of all.” He throws his arms up in the air in a huff. For a few seconds we both freeze before we burst out laughing.

  Jake comes out of the work shed, his brows high. “There’s a crew waiting outside the house. Tanner and I are about to leave. Would you like us to start without you?”

  I would love them to, but I’d never ask them to clean blood up without getting my hands dirty first. “No. I’ll be just a minute. Tell them to wait for me.” I look back at Connor, “She will be fine; just don’t refer to her as a feral cat, or she might think you are crazy. I’m going to say goodbye to her now. Wait for my call, okay.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  “I keep telling you not to call me that,” I call over my shoulder as my boots beat across the dusty yard to the office.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Jesus, the day he actually calls me Nathan, I might just pass out. I take the steps to the office three at a time and open the door. I must have scared Charlie, because she jumps in her seat and drops the phone.

  “Oh my God, hold on, I dropped the phone,” she calls to the floor giving me the stink eye. I chuckle, feeling just a little bad for scaring her. “Mr. Millard, are you still there?”

  I grab my handheld CB and kiss her forehead. “Mr. Millard, could you hold on a second? Thank you.” She frowns at me, and then the CB in my hand. “Where are you going?”

  “I have an errand to run that might take an hour, maybe a little more. If you need anything, Connor is out there working in the yard; he’s a good guy, he will look after you. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  She nods, “I have a couple more things to organize anyway.” I kiss her then watch her for a second as she returns to her call before I leave and head for the truck.

  Yep, we are going to make it. I feel it in my bones.

  All the way across town, all I can think about is her face when she walks into find the new paint job that goes all the way to the ceiling. When I arrive at the house, there are three of our trucks out front, and a group of guys standing with Nona and Davey on the front lawn. I pull up, pumped to begin. This isn’t just for Charlie, but me, too. If this is going to be our home, we need to make sure we scrub the past from its foundations.

  I kiss Nona on the cheek for the second time this morning; I’d seen her on our way out of the sheriff’s station earlier on. Everything is taking its toll on her. I hate that. “You need some rest. Go back inside with Davey.”

  “You need a woman’s touch and your Nona’s help.” She slaps me lightly on the cheek, and I smile.

  “How about you let me clean the mess up, and then I’ll call for you? I really don’t want you to see all that again when you don’t need to. Davey doesn’t, either.”

  She glances over to my brother, he’s animatedly speaking with Jake, Miles, and Bobby.

  “You’re right. Davey and I will go make some biscuits and iced tea for you boys.”

  “You do that. Make them ginger, I like them best.”

  She pecks my cheek this time and nods. “I know they are, son.”

  Nona takes Davey up to the house and as soon as the screen door slaps closes, I clap my hands. “Well, boys, let’s do this. I will clean up the blood. You can start painting in the other rooms.”

  “We’re all in, boss,” Miles calls.

  “Great. Let’s get this done before she gets here, and for the hundredth time, stop calling me boss.”

  There’s a few cheers and a lot of murmuring as we enter the house, until we are in the living room; that’s when all is silent. The room is musty and still laced with a tang of rust; it reeks of death that we all smell and feel.

  I’m actually not the first one to move, it’s one of the lads, Jake, who steps forward and grabs the dust sheet that’s stained in a red-brown. He drags it across the floor, rolls it up, and stuffs it in a large plastic bag as the rest of us watch in silence. It’s when he ties the bag up and walks past me that I move with him and watch as he throws the bag out on the lawn. He turns back to me with empty hands and, all of a sudden, I feel lighter. He didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect any of them to deal with the death, but he stepped in like a friend instead of just an employee.

  I hold my hand out to Jake, and he shakes it. I owe him one.

  We both head back into the house, and I grab a bucket and head for the sink. I told them earlier it was too dangerous for them to actually clean the blood, even with gloves, so I need to do this part while they all work around me.

  The boys have some rock music pumping away, filling the void. Their avid voices prove that they enjoy the song, especially when Miles bellows out a solo.

  I try to sing along and ignore the fact I have been scrubbing for the forty minutes, refreshing buckets of soapy water after bucket of soapy water. Still, the blood and the smell are thickly soaked into the floor. The guys have made a first coat on this room, the dining room, and kitchen, when I decide I need to stretch my back and go for a walk through the house.

  I don’t know what I’m doing until I get to the one room I shouldn’t enter. In the corner is a hole in the floor where the carpet has been pulled back, and the floorboards have been lifted. My feet take me there slowly; I’m like a zombie from fear of what I might find still in there. That’s where Charlie found the videos and the gun, and since she told Noel as much, I assume he removed any other evidence.

  I stand before it, my head hanging as I bore into the hole that held our past secrets for years. I really wasn’t expecting to find anything; I thought that Noel would take it all. I was wrong.

  Dropping to my knees, I reach into the dark hole; it is cooler in there, like another dimension, or maybe it’s stained with sin. My fingers wrap around the smooth photo frame and pull it free of its prison. I have to rub a small amount of dust from the glass before I realize what I’m looking at. There’s a beautiful woman that, at first glance, I think is Charlie, only it isn’t. Charlie was the baby in the arms of her mother, so sweet, so protected, so innocent.

  She would want this. I put it to the side and reach in again for the last item in the hole—an old biscuit tin. I don’t understand why this is still here. Have they not been through here?

  I’m scared to open it. Scared that whatever I find in there will take everything away. I fall back off my knees to my butt and will my shaking fingers to stop, but they shake anyway. I peel at the seal of the tin and after a little force it pops, the sound lost in the loud beat of drums to another rock ballad. My breath shakes as hard as my hands when I pull out a lock of Charlie’s soft hair. I hold it like it’s a delicate bird before placing it back in the tin. I then take the photo of her and me sleeping in her bed and will myself not to crush it. Her father must have come and taken it while we slept.

  Was this a one-time deal?

  What a fucking ridiculous thought.

  A rage is building in me so violent, I’m sweating as I re
ach for the next item—a key. It’s small, and yet, in a psychosomatic sense, the heaviest thing I have ever held in my hand. How is it possible that such a small piece of smooth metal, that isn’t even uniquely cut and could fit at least a third of the population’s cash boxes, feel so significant.

  I know it’s not the key, it’s what it signifies—more secrets, more heartbreak, more nightmares kept hidden from us, about us. I can’t let anyone find it; I can’t let her find it. I need to find it before it’s all too late.

  I’m not myself as I throw his items out of the closet, bang against the walls inside, wondering if he had a secret room of horrors, where he would stash his cash box and other incriminating things. Then I went to his bed, ripping the bedding apart; nothing. I storm from the room and the house, heading for the truck. I didn’t see the guys stop what they were doing. I didn’t notice someone turn the stereo off. I grabbed a sledgehammer from the bed of the truck and I took it into his room, and began my search in the floor boards. He hid one box under the boards, why not another, right?

  I slammed and slammed, crashed and splintered my way through his floor, until there wasn’t much left, and then I went for the air ducts. This place was and always will be a poison to us; I see that now. The best thing I could have done, was to smash it to smithereens. I could smash this whole house and I think she would forgive me. I could demolish it and build her the dream home we envisioned up under our tree. We could have that dream if we destroyed this shell of fears and demons.

  I don’t know what possessed me. No, that’s a lie. I know what possessed me to start swinging the hammer at everything in sight. I was going to bring this place down, and with it, bring us a proper fresh start. She would be proud, and she will love me for it. I can finally be her hero.

  My chest hurts, my shoulders hurt and I’m drenched within minutes when I feel a tourniquet around my whole body so tight, it’s hard to breath.

  “Boss, stop. You gotta settle down before you hurt yourself.”

  Why are they stopping me? Don’t they want me to be happy, to bring her happiness? I won’t have them stop me from giving her peace. I fight against the hold on me, the restraints against her happiness. I fight so hard, until I’m crushed to the floor and the rush of yelling and cusses fill my ears against the rush of my blood pounding in my bound body.

  “Boss, you gotta stop!” I don’t know who’s pleading with me. I hear words from everyone. As I start to come back from the red rage and devastation of what I can’t do for the woman I love. It takes four burly men, who’ve seen more fights in their time than most, to bring me back to reality and that knowledge. Once I stop fighting, so do they, and soon enough the weight begins to lift and it gets easier to breathe. That is until I see the damage I’ve done around the room.

  This place will never let us go. We need to let it go.

  “Boys, call Connor and tell him to bring Charlie here. Miles, go get the Dumbo.”

  I’m going to free us both forever.

  PAUL’S FUNERAL WILL BE in two days. Nate and Sheriff Noel thought I should leave the arrangements for the state because he didn’t deserve anything more, but I couldn’t do that. If he had family, I would have left it for them, but he didn’t. Paul was alone, just like me; he grew up without love, so never understood how to properly. I’m not saying that’s an excuse, but I understand it. A funeral is me placing closure on my story with him; it is as much for Paul as it is for me.

  My bank account is active once more, and I have more funds due to Paul’s investments. I had no idea about those until Mr. Millard told me. Everything that was once Paul’s went to me. I now had enough funds behind me that I could buy a new house, make a new home from walls that didn’t hold a bloody history as mine did. I’m so excited by this, that I had actually started searching the real estate in the area on the web when the door burst open again.

  “Jesus, Nate. Stop—” That’s not Nathan.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Connor. Nathan should have told you about me, right?”

  “He did, you just startled me.”

  “Sorry. Nathan wants me to bring you to the house.”

  That wasn’t the plan. “I thought he was going to come and get me himself.”

  “Would you like to give him a call? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  Now I feel terrible, worse than terrible. These guys have come here for a fresh start where they aren’t judged for the past mistakes. They work hard at making a new life for themselves so other will look at them for the person they are now, and not who they once were in a moment of weakness or circumstance. We are all victims to circumstances in some way. I could very well be one of them had I killed Paul, like I planned.

  Nate would be disappointed in me if he knew how much I’ve taken what we have been through for granted.

  “Let’s get a move on then, Connor,” I say with a smile to try and right the tension I made. “Wouldn’t want to keep the man waiting, would we?”

  Connor sighs in relief, but I can tell he isn’t all too comfortable with me, and I don’t blame him; I’m a risk. I haven’t been the stable member of the community that people could trust. I guess I’m getting my just desserts.

  I follow him from the office, squinting against the sun, kicking orange dust into the air. Today would be a great day for a swim at the lake, like we did as kids. I actually can’t wait to do some of the normal stuff with Nate. We have been surrounded in so much drama, it would be nice to have some normality to our relationship. Come to think of it… we never had normality. There has always been something dark shadowing us, haunting our futures. For the first time in my life, I think and feel like we are free to love in the warmth of our dreams.

  Connor opens the truck door for me, I thank him before hopping in and watching as he follows onto the driver’s side. No matter how much I try, it still feels uncomfortable and I think that might actually be normal. It’s actually exciting to feel all these normal feelings and welcome them. I feel like a newborn in a world that’s ready for my life to begin, and I love it.

  The only way I will be able to get past the uncomfortable feeling that strangers have, is to no longer be strangers. For the first time, I will be opening myself up to get to know a stranger, to know what happens to him past the point of the immediate, which is what I have conditioned myself to over the years of nursing.

  “Connor, tell me if I’m being intrusive here, because I’m not very good at this, okay?”

  He starts the truck up and looks at me, his eyes kind. “You and me both.”

  Ha, I guess so. “I have the social skills of an ex-con.” I gasp right after the words vomit from my mouth. “I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive of me.”

  Connor chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. You’re doing fine.”

  I’m too scared now, my mouth and brain aren’t communicating and I’m screwing up this whole “conversation, getting to know someone” thing.

  “Look, Charlie. Can I call you that?”

  I nod.

  He smiles larger and nods before putting the truck in gear, and slowly leaving the yard. “The thing is, I see the ex-con in you, so it doesn’t surprise me that you find it hard to make conversation.”

  “I’m an ex-con?”

  “What I mean is, you have been a prisoner of sorts for a very long time. There are traits we all show that are like neon lights. I thought of you as a wounded animal before, and I don’t doubt you once were. But now that you’re free from your, excuse me for being blunt, abuser”—I cringe at the word and he busies himself with his driving as he continues, and I listen intently. “You’re now free from that. The thing is, an abused animal will be flighty, not trusting anyone, and maybe lash out. I think you were very close to that. But now, you are in the ex-con stage.”

  There’s a pregnant silence between us as I think through the knowledge Connor is sharing with me. I feel like he is an uncle, twice removed or something, tryi
ng to pass on his years of wisdom. It’s a privilege, and I listen intently because there’s something that’s reaching deep in my soul and urging it to open up.

  “An ex-con will never really shake what’s happened to him to get him in prison, and then the time he spends there, but once free he or she learns and relishes in the smaller things in life that were denied to them once. The normal become the most precious commodity to life. Unfortunately, with this freedom, comes small things that make it hard for us to blend and make normal conversation.” He winks and smiles. “Not all of us come out so well; these difficulties make it hard to move on in life, and they fall into old habits. I don’t want you to fall into old habits, Charlie. I can see you have been through more than many put together, but you’re a fighter, Nathan is a fighter and together I know you will get through it if you don’t give up trying for the normal.”

  I don’t know when it happened, but I have tears trailing into the corner of my smile, the saltiness dipping into my mouth, alerting me that I am leaking. I swipe at my cheeks with the warmest feeling inside me for Connor, for Nate, and my future built on striving for normal.

  “Connor, when we pull over, I’m going to hug you.”

  He glances at me and smiles. “Fine, but don’t be making a habit of that, or we might start rumors.”

  “But that’s normal. Aren’t we striving for normal?”

  We both chuckle and actually begin to make small talk for the last few minutes of the drive, right up until we take the corner and see three trucks and one big, monstrous crane looking machine with a weird ball hanging from the long arm. In bold, bright, yellow writing, the word Dumbo is written just above Shaw Construction.

  “Oh. My. God!” I breathe.

  “Holy shit.” Connor slows right down as we take in the information our eyes are conveying. “Charlie, did I mention that ex-cons also might jump to conclusions for the worst?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Give Nathan a chance to explain.” He pulls to the curb behind the last of the trucks. I prepare my body to race up and find Nate, ask him to explain what he thinks he is doing, but my body isn’t listening. I slide from my seat and don’t even shut the door as I stroll and gaze at the machine I’m sure is there to demolish my man-made-hell.