‘You sick fuck,’ Christian whispered, right before he grabbed Darren by the front of his shirt and threw him across the room.
His back turned to me, Christian went after Darren, no doubt to continue to wail on him until he passed out. But that job had already been completed for him. Darren’s head bent at an unnatural angle; across the desk he’d landed on. His eyes remained open, unseeing, and yet at the same time staring right at me.
You did ask, Death whispered to me, right before I collapsed.
18
present day
My mind kept shifting back and forth, recalling the article that Lawrence had published which detailed Darren’s murder, Christian’s trail, but mostly described my unnatural relationship with my foster brother and basically painted me as my foster parent’s whore.
I wasn’t ashamed about what went down. I stood by that fact even if it had taken me a while to get there. I’d done nothing wrong that night besides defend myself. But I knew people would still attempt to twist what Darren had forced me to do and turn it into something to be humiliating. I knew they’d focus on the pictures, and my relationship with Christian, rather than the fight that had eventually led to Darren’s death.
Emerson, Gi, and the AA Team, they’d all know about it now. What would they think? How would the school react? NRHS wasn’t exactly the type of public school that had kids attending with parole officers, ankle monitors and the same chance percentage of you getting stabbed or pregnant as it was for you to graduate at the end of high school – and my old schools where I’d been kicked out because of the scandal had been.
You don’t need to think about them anymore, I told myself. You’re not going back there.
But as soon as I stopped thinking about Emerson and NRHS, my mind took me back to the reason my panic attack had been triggered in the first place. That night coursed through my mind like I was experiencing it in real time, then began to pick up a pace to the months that followed, the trial and Christian’s sentence.
We’d remained positive the first month of the trial. It took longer than we would have thought. Though we both had shitty histories, we’d never actually had any lengthy legal trials before; we didn’t really know how it worked. But Darren’s murder had been partially self-defence, partially committed in my defence…
It was only when the verdict was cast, taking into account Christian’s juvie record from back when he was fourteen, that I realised Christian had never had a positive expectation of what the outcome might be. He’d just wanted to keep me in his life that little bit longer. Because if it was a guilty verdict, and he had to go to jail, Christian had told me he never wanted to see me again. He thought that version of life was better: the one where I forgot about him and moved on, rather than hung onto a half-relationship and put everything on hold. Because by the time he got out, my life would already be well on its way, choices made, bridges crossed, and he’d only be just beginning.
Since calls only went one way – I knew I’d never hear from him, even as I shouted at him in the courtroom that he had to keep me in his life, that this wasn’t the end. He never called. But that didn’t stop me from writing to him every time I moved places or Jennings and Rayan keeping him updated on my life. And I knew they had done, because whilst Christian wouldn’t talk to me – they would. Or at least they did.
I’d never visited him before, but I’d gotten Ali to apply for me to become an approved visitor. Since she was a hacker, it hadn’t been too difficult for her, even if it was a government system she was breaking into. It was under my fake ID since I needed to be able to visit without a guardian. Though I wasn’t immediate family, I was given full visiting rights, unrestricted. I had to hope in the two years since then, the list hadn’t been revised.
Luckily, Friday was one of the only days open to visits. By the time I’d driven non-stop, I was twenty minutes early from when I’d be allowed to visit. I didn’t know how it worked, whether I needed to have called ahead first and let them know I would be visiting. I certainly knew that Christian wouldn’t be expecting me.
They searched Emerson’s car before I even got into the place. I had to wonder whether there was anything illegal in there, but they came out with nothing. Then, when I got into the actual building, they searched my person, too.
I’d left everything behind; Emerson’s car keys were the only thing I had on me. That, and my fake ID. My phone was still in the car; I’d switched it off as soon as I’d stopped panicking and seen the thousand unread texts and missed calls. I wouldn’t need to turn it back on again. I should have ditched it out the window on the interstate, but then I’d have no way of contacting Ali tonight to find somewhere to stay. Probably best I didn’t throw it, then.
Eventually, after being searched, and my ID checked against the approved visiting list, I assumed I’d been deemed safe enough to visit one of their inmates.
I walked down more concrete corridors, other visitors with me, and was led to where I would get to see Christian.
Instead of the long row of stalls you saw on TV – the glass partition in the middle, two phones: one for him, one for me – the room was open. Vending machines to the side, several tables with numerous chairs. Guards were positioned on the exit and entrance where we came from; there were signs on the walls about all the things that were prohibited and CCTV blinking in the corner, watching us.
I sat at one of the empty tables I was led to by a guard, watching the people around me. Some hugged as they said hello, their heads bent together in quick conversation like they couldn’t waste a second. Some had more leisurely visits, and they chatted like this was an everyday thing – which I realised it probably was.
It was strange, but not unexpected. When Christian had been going through the trial, I’d read up on everything about visiting someone in prison. Even when I’d had my hopes up and he’d made his promises I’d never believed he was serious about cutting me out of his life if he got jail time. I thought, at worst, he would get the four years that Darren had once threated him with; that was the general sentence for voluntary manslaughter. Four years was basically just a college education. I could wait that time for him. Easy. But it hadn’t gone down that way.
Christian would have open visiting rights. He had no past record for substance abuse, dealing, no affiliation with gangs, he wasn’t a violent person or a danger to society. His juvie record had been enough to persuade the judge to a harsher sentence, but wasn’t any indication that he wouldn’t play by the visiting rules here. There wasn’t any reason the prison had to restrict him to closed visitation. It would almost make our conversation normal. Only we were here. And we couldn’t touch. And there was nothing normal about it.
More time passed and Christian hadn’t come. I noticed a few of the guys in inmate uniforms looking at me curiously. I didn’t move under their gaze. Whatever most guys had done to get in prison, I’d lived through. The idea of getting shivved wasn’t appealing, but I’d already been stabbed and shot; it wasn’t like they’d be giving me a new experience.
How would Christian know that I was here to visit him? Would someone have to find him and notify him? Could he decline to come see me if they did?
The last contact I’d had with Christian had been posting the letter, right before I left Brianna, telling him where I was moving to and what shit I’d landed myself in that time. And that wasn’t even contact, was it?
Jennings said Christian read all my letters, he knew because he’d trip Christian up in conversation, mentioning something he’d only know if he had done, but it’d been over a year since I talked to either Jennings or Rayan.
They were great guys, loyal and Christian’s best friends, but as much as they visited him, they’d moved on. And I wasn’t anything to them. Their best mate’s ex. Not even that since we’d never labelled what we were to each other.
When I’d still gone to high school with them, all throughout the trail, it had been easy to talk. We were a united front. The only
ones on Christian’s side. But then they graduated, and their lives took a different direction to mine. We caught up when they went to visit him, and they’d check in on me occasionally asking how the new foster house was going, the mechanics job. It had lasted a while: that periphery friendship. Not exactly friends, but more than acquaintances. It probably helped I’d chilled with them a lot when me and Christian used to go around to Rayan’s place after school.
The last time I’d spoken to them was in the hospital. They’d come to visit me after I’d been stabbed. I knew they’d done it because it was what Christian would have wanted them to do. They’d looked concerned. Like: the verdict getting called and Christian wasn’t getting off, type of concerned. In that moment, once again laid up in a hospital bed, I had this stupid epiphany.
Christian had cut me loose because he thought he was a dead end for me. I was a dead end for everyone. Literally. Everyone who met me, everyone who got close – I led them straight to Death. And even when Death couldn’t claim their life, he took some semblance of it. Death had taken Christian from me in a whole different way. He was the living dead. Alive, but merely existing. A sub-version of life restricted by four walls and bars.
I always avoided friendships before because the foster system told me I couldn’t trust anyone. And I always kept people at arm’s length because of Death – but that wasn’t good enough. I needed full-on no-contact for Death not to get involved. I had to accept that being alone was the only way I could exist in this world.
So, I cut Rayan and Jennings loose. I said I was moving districts, and that it would probably be hard for me to keep in contact with them. Told them I was alright, just a few stitches and laughed that I’d had worse. Christian had never told them about the extent of my history with hospitals and danger, but they’d always known I’d seen some shit in my lifetime. I couldn’t tell whether they believed me, but when I moved to Brianna’s place, over an hours’ drive away from them, we never spoke again.
What had they told Christian? Had they used the same excuses? Had he bought them? Did he wonder why I still wrote to him, even when I couldn’t talk to anyone else. Did he bother to read those letters anymore, from the girl in his past who put him behind bars because Death couldn’t let her go? Had the years turned what we’d had into resentment?
This was stupid. Coming here. I didn’t need to see Christian to know why I needed to leave Emerson and the AA Team behind. I knew that all on my own. Christian probably hated me now after the past couple of years, knowing my stupidity had gotten him into this mess. I should leave now. Save myself the embarrassing wait for someone who was never going to come and see me.
I’d call Ali and ask her if she had somewhere that could put me up for the night and plan my next move. I was about to get up, thoughts of running once more in my head, when he walked through the doors. And every thought about leaving guttered from my mind.
The first thing I noticed was the hair. It sounded ridiculous. I’d not seen Christian for two years and his hair was the first thing that I noticed. But it was the most obvious difference. Christian had always kept his hair short when we lived together, barely more than stubble when he went to the barbers, then fuzz that grew out into something that resembled hair before he shaved it all off again. Now, it was a manbun on top of his head. A few strands fell about his face. He looked like some unruly pirate.
And just like that, every bad feeling – all those clawing emotions that felt like they were going to drag me under – disappeared. I might have come here for a reminder of why I needed to run, but all I could think of was: he’s here. It’s Christian. He’s here, and he’s alive and he’s in front of me.
I was grinning by the time we sat opposite each other.
‘What?’ Christian asked, crossing his arms across his chest, like I’d only spoken to him yesterday.
His biceps were thicker than the last time I’d seen him. He’d filled out more in general. His shoulders were wider, his chest looked bigger. He was only twenty, still not even legal to drink, but he looked like a man.
‘Your hair looks like shit,’ I told him.
‘You’re one to talk,’ he told me. ‘I’ve seen better hair in the communal shower drains,’ he deadpanned. Then, a slight smile broke across his face. Barely more than a glint in his eye. ‘What are you doing here, sweetheart?’
I couldn’t stop staring. He was here. Christian was here in front of me. He stared back. I realised I hadn’t answered him. I shrugged. I didn’t want to answer that question. What could I say? The vampire I was starting to have feelings for defended me and it made me realise all the times Emerson had looked out for me in the past and reminded me of you and you know better than anyone that me having any sort of feelings for someone was a death sentence – or a life sentence, in your case.
‘If you didn’t really expect me to visit, you wouldn’t have allowed me to be on your approved visitor list.’
Christian grunted. ‘To be fair, I wasn’t given much of a choice. Jennings gave me the details along with his when I had to put him down. He said if I didn’t add those, too, I’d be sorry.’
‘That’s it? That’s all it took?’
‘He might have brought up a few things from the past I owed him for.’ Christian uncrossed his arms and tapped his thumb absentmindedly on the edge of the table. ‘Why are you here now? What’s going on?’
So Christian. Straight to the point, no bullshit. Just like when he’d met me, and we went from strangers to friends in an instant. He didn’t wait around.
‘Do they still visit: Rayan and Jennings?’ I asked instead.
Christian narrowed his eyes. He pursed his lips before answering. He knew I was avoiding. ‘Sure. Not as often. Once a month. But they send me books. I think I’ve read more than you now.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. I hadn’t read much lately.
I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I couldn’t so I held my hands in fists. Christian noticed the gesture, and the new white scarring across my hands from the motorcycle crash.
‘More scars… Death’s not done with you yet, then?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Never.’
‘They told me about when you got stabbed – visiting you in the hospital…’
‘These weren’t from then,’ I said, wiggling my fingers. ‘I crashed my bike a couple months ago.’
‘You weren’t wearing protection?’ Christian asked, annoyed.
‘Of course I was. The speed cut through it.’
‘You never mentioned a bike crash,’ Christian said.
‘So, you do read my letters.’
Christian grunted again. ‘I told you: I read a lot more than you do these days.’
We stared at each other for a long period of time. The silence didn’t feel wasted or forced. It was like how it used to be between us. When he was waiting for me to open up and I was waiting for him to shift the topic onto something else. We were both stubborn. But like how it was before, I cracked first.
‘You look good,’ I said, cutting off that feeling of nostalgia growing deep in my bones. ‘I was kidding about the hair. Overall, you look… good. Big.’
That, at least, cut Christian from staring me out. He cracked a smile. ‘I know,’ Christian said. ‘There’s not a lot to do to get outside in the yard other than work out, you know? I miss using my hands. Weights are something to keep me busy.’
Part of why Christian had loved being a mechanic so much had been that he could physically fix things. It didn’t mean a future in an office job and a cubicle, fixing metaphorical shit or making cash he never saw. He could see a problem made from physical parts and work that problem out with his hands until he had the solution.
‘You don’t look so bad yourself, sweetheart.’
‘I look like absolute shit.’
I knew I did, too. I didn’t exactly expect to look like a model after a panic attack and driving none stop.
Christian mock groaned. ‘Urgh, don’t tell me that. I hav
en’t seen a woman in two years. I don’t need to know that there’s a version of you who’s hotter than this.’
‘Suck it up, big boy.’
‘Liv,’ Christian’s voice turned seriously. ‘Why are you here?’
‘You mean because you made me promise I’d never come visit you and said you never wanted to see or hear from me again?’ I snapped back, avoiding.
‘Yes. Exactly that. Why are you here?’
‘I stole a friend’s car and was going to head to New York, but I forgot my wallet so I couldn’t get gas and you were closer.’
Christian grunted.
It sounded like a ridiculous lie, that’s why I admitted to it. But Christian could always tell when I was lying, or when I was putting something off. It half made me think that he was lamia, and like Emerson could read emotions, but I knew that wasn’t it. It was just what came about of knowing someone for years.
‘A friend?’ Christian asked instead. ‘I heard you’d sworn all those off.’
Ah. I guess Rayan and Jennings had told him about that last goodbye, then.
‘Against my better judgement.’
‘Swearing them off, or having one now?’
‘Having a friend now.’
‘Of course,’ Christian said, crossing his arms again.
I stayed quiet, afraid that if I started talking, I would never stop. Where would I even begin with the mess I’d gotten myself into?
I could never open up to Christian about the vampire side of my recent history – not about the strange preternatural senses I’d been experiencing or my vision dreams, but he would understand what I meant when I said I worried Death would come after Emerson and my new friends. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been selfish. Even after everything that happened with him, I hadn’t learnt my lesson. Instead, had been on the verge of putting five people in Death’s crosshairs.
‘In case you’re worried opening up to me might give me back the “friend” title, just know I’ve become a sort of… confessional priest since I’ve been incarcerated. Really found my place in being the sounding board to many a prisoner.’
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