by Dea Poirier
“Shame,” he says without an ounce of empathy.
I take a step closer to him. He doesn’t move, he watches me. Another step, I need to get closer. I need to distract him, get him to trust me again.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, the lie heavy on my words. “I’ve missed us.” I close the distance.
His eyebrow perks up. It’s what he wants to hear. I know it. But there’s so much history between us, I doubt it will do anything other than serve as a distraction for a few minutes. But that’s all I need.
After
Sayid hovers over me. His long dark hair covers most of his face. But I can see the thin line of his lips. Dark bags hang beneath his eyes, and the stubble collecting on his chin seems to have grown half an inch since I last saw him. He’s close enough, the warmth of his breath hits my face, the smell of cigarettes lingers on it. He brushes the hair out of his face, panic in his eyes, searching me, evaluating me. I notice a strange bundle of long metal objects in his hand. They disappear quickly, shoved into his pocket.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a rushed, hushed voice.
I’m groggy, out of it. Mind blurred and far off. I grimace as he picks up my arms, and looks them over. I pull them from his grip and look up at him. My face is scrunched up, the light stings my eyes.
“Whose blood is this?” His eyes are wide. He’s grabs towels from the laundry bin, and paces around me. There’s a sucking sound with each step he takes on the wet floor.
For the first time I look down and notice the streams of dried blood on my arms. Shards of the broken mirror float in red pools around me. The dirty grout of the bathroom tiles stares back at me. Did I sleep in the bathroom?
“Mine?” I’m not sure. But I think I remember it being mine. Or was that a dream? The memories slip back to my mind slowly, like I’m reeling them in. One slow frame at a time. It’s impossible though, isn’t it? Otherwise, I’d be dead. Sayid wouldn’t be pacing around me, panicked. I’d be in a body bag.
“What did you do?” he asks in a pained voice as he pulls me up from the floor. “Wash your arms off, hurry.” He pushes me toward the sink.
I’m not sure why he doesn’t want me to shower, but I follow his instructions. There’s too much confusion clouding my mind for me to argue. Shards of glass crunch beneath my feet as I stumble forward. I slide, and grip the porcelain trough to steady myself. Though I scrub, the blood doesn’t come off, not easily anyway. While I try to clean myself up, he mops the floor and gathers the shards of glass. A whisper of panic crosses my mind, it slithers in, and blots out the confusion. Each time I replay last night, or what I think happened last night, the panic swells from a whisper to a roar.
“Let’s go,” he says as the last of the evidence swirls and is swallowed by the drain. His hand grips my shirt, and leads me to the door.
My heart beats furiously and cold sweat clings to my neck. I’m still disoriented as I follow him across the dew-covered lawn, I stumble a few times, even though there’s nothing in the way, it’s my thoughts I trip over. The orange branches pull at my shirt as we plunge into the cover. I waiver on my feet, and take branches to the face more times than I’d like to admit. Once there’s nothing around us but branches and tiny green oranges, Sayid throws the bloody towels onto the ground.
“Strip,” he demands, pointing to the pile.
I shake my head. Heat slaps my cheeks, and I know I’m blushing. “Your clothes are covered in blood, take them off.” He grabs my shirt. “I’ll get you clean ones.” He promises.
I pull my shirt off, followed by my pants and throw them onto the pile.
His eyes appraise me, “Blood soaked through to your underwear too.”
I sigh, and pull them off, and toss them on top.
He squirts something on the pile, strikes a match, and throws it. The pile is consumed by flames in seconds. He leads me further into the trees, away from the smoke, nearly to the back edge of the orange orchard. Once we’re far enough from the fire, he drops my arm. My hands fall automatically, to cover myself.
“Stay here, I’m going to get you clothes.” Dominic’s words are slow, and careful, like he doesn’t expect me to understand them. He looks me in the eyes, and waits for me to nod before he leaves.
After he disappears, I look down at my arms. The fuzzy memories of last night flood into my mind again. They’re so clear now, I know they’re real. They have to be. I’d cut deep gashes, but not so much as a scratch remains. My arms are pristine, no cuts, no scars. Sayid finds me in the dirt, sitting on my feet, still surveying my arms.
“What are you doing?” He squints, head tilted, as he looks at me.
I look up at him, carefully taking the shirt he holds out.
“There aren’t any scars.” The words are nearly a question. “How is this possible?” There has to be an explanation, something logical that I just haven’t considered.
I slip the shirt on, then the jeans. I’m unsteady on my feet, as uneven as my thoughts.
“So you did try...” he trails off, not even looking at me.
I give the slightest, quickest of nods. Guilt gathers inside me, it feels like an anchor threatening to pull me under. My head lulls forward as I lean into one of the trees. The scent of oranges envelope me as the branches scrape my skin.
“Why?” he asks, anger taints his voice.
I shake my head, and cross my arms. “It’s all too much. Olivia, my sister, my mom. I’ve lost them all.” My eyes burn as tears stain my cheeks. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. It’s too much, it’s too hard.”
He kicks the toe of his shoe into the ground. When he looks back at me, his brown eyes aren’t friendly, welcoming, like they usually are. It feels like I’m withering beneath his stare.
“I told you I didn’t want to lose you again. How can you be so selfish?”
My fists are balled at my side, and my temple throbs. “This isn’t about you. And I’m sorry that it was selfish that I couldn’t take it anymore.”
He crosses his arms and looks off into the trees. Anger flares inside me, and I have half a mind to yell at him. But instead, I look at my feet and cross my arms.
He looks down for a long time, his teeth against his lip, almost chewing it. The space between us disappears, as he steps closer to me. I feel his eyes on me, I meet them. The deep pools of brown are so sharp, so intense, I feel them stare straight through me. My eyes focus on his lips. My heart picks up into a gallop. Deep down, I know what I want. It’s something that I haven’t wanted since Olivia. But the feeling is stronger, sharper. My head swims, and I lean against a tree for support.
“Please,” he pleads. “Please, don’t do it again. I know it’s hard that you lost them. But you still have me. I’m still here.” He brings his hand up, and I hold my breath, until the hand rests on my shoulder. Then he leans in and hugs me. Though I know it’s meant to comfort me, I want more, but I know I don’t deserve him. When he lets go, a wave of guilt crashes hard into me, and I can’t look at him. After what I did, are we ever going to be the same? Will he ever even kiss me again? We’re silent for a long time, the tension grows between us, but I’m sure only I can feel it.
Guilt twists my insides. I can barely keep myself up, I’m slumped against a tree. I’m too drained to fill the void between us with words. I’m uncomfortable beside him, wishing we were closer, but I’m not brave enough to close the gap. I know I shouldn’t close the gap. After this, he’s not going to be able to forgive me. He’s not going to want me.
“Wanna go watch the newbies come in?” he offers.
“Yeah, I guess.” A distraction would serve me well. I flick my cigarette to the ground and follow him. Part of me knows he’s asking me along to keep an eye on me, but I don’t care. It’s probably best I’m not alone. So far, I haven’t seen any new students come in, I’m ready for some entertainment, maybe it will take my mind off…everything.
We work our way through the trees, I drag my fingers across the branches. Fallen o
ranges squish beneath my feet. When we reach the office, there’s already a line waiting to see the newbies. We fall behind the line of spectators, and watch them file off the bus. The first two kids look so young, I’m surprised they were sent here at all. They can’t be older than eleven.
“Is it me, or do they just keep getting younger and younger?” Sayid asks.
A brunette and a blond file off next. Followed by a halo of curly red hair that’s hauntingly familiar. His eyes lock on mine, like he was searching for me, expecting me. I’d recognize his smile anywhere, it lights up his face.
“Do you know him?” Sayid asks me and flashes me a look. There are other questions in his eyes, but for now, he doesn’t ask them.
My thoughts turn sour as dread spreads through me. A bad feeling prickles at the back of my mind; the tingle of a memory lingers there, but I can’t grasp it. My eyes narrow and my mouth goes dry.
“Used to be a friend back home, Dominic.” I reply. I haven’t talked to Dominic since before everything happened with Olivia. Since then he’s appeared in my nightmares, and never as the friend I remember—it’s like he’s stalking my dreams. Olivia’s words creep into my mind, there’s something wrong with him. According to Eden, Dominic was stalking her.,
If he’s here I know it’s not good news. But why would he be here at all? Rage smolders just beneath the surface as I think of my sister. My missing sister. What did he do to her? He was following her, he must have had something to do with it.
Despite the handcuffs, Dom gives me a little half wave. I don’t wave back, a mind heavy with questions paralyzes me.
Sayid eyes me, “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say a little too quickly. I realize my fists are balled at my sides. I unclench my hands and cross my arms as I debate how to get Dominic alone. Something warns me that he’s dangerous. But my sister is more important than anything he could do to me. He knows something about where she is. He must. She was terrified of him.
I wait outside with the others while the new kids get searched. Hot afternoon sun beats down on me, even the brick wall behind me radiates warmth. Everything in Florida is always hot, sticky and wet—like you’re trapped inside a sponge. The procession of scared, searched and shaken souls march out. They work their way through the grounds, and disappear into their cottages.
Sayid and his friends hover outside the office as they wait for the lunch bell to ring. Consumed by a million questions, I can’t find an excuse to leave. Sayid eyes me like he knows something is up.
“Asher, my boy!” his words are so sharp they practically snap.
“What are you doing here?” my words edge on accusatory.
“I couldn’t just leave you in here all alone, now could I?” he asks with a sly grin.
“What did you do to get here?” I look at him, trying to read his face for clues.
“You know,” he laughs and shrugs, “does it really matter? I mean it’s no worse than what you’re here for.”
That’s not comforting. The creeping feeling claws its way back to the pit of my stomach.
“So, what’s the deal with this place? No fences? How do they keep anyone here?” he asks looking around like he can see the boundaries of the place, despite them being acres away, buried in the forest. Something tells me he’s been here before. A strong feeling of déjà vu crashes into me.
Though I want to dig into him, I wait to pummel him with questions. I can’t do it here.
I keep my voice impossibly calm. “We’re in the middle of 1400 acres of nothing, around that is swamps, even if you make it through that, congratulations you managed to escape into the middle of nowhere. They also love to hunt kids down with bloodhounds. They leave with dogs, sometimes you hear shots in the woods, most of the time they don’t come back with the kid.” I explain.
He smirks. “Sounds like that could be a fun game.”
My eyes scour Dominic for a sign that it’s a joke. But he doesn’t so much as chuckle. It’d be a fun game to be hunted down by bloodhounds in the woods? To be killed by guards? This Dominic is nothing like the friend I had back home. This Dominic is a stranger.
He rolls his eyes at me, “You’re content going along with the rest of the world, aren’t you? You’ll never dig your heels in, never cause a fuss.”
“I don’t like change,” I say as I grit my teeth. There isn’t a reason to fight, if I fight I know where I’ll end up. I know what will happen to me, and it’s worse than death.
Stay calm. Get him alone.
“Clearly,” he says with finality. “What’s the stance on smoking?”
“Not allowed, but not really enforced. If you smoke behind buildings, or in the orange trees, you’ll be fine.” I gesture toward the trees.
He smiles, but by the look on his face, I can tell it’s not genuine. “Glad you’ve gotten so accustomed.” Sarcasm drips from each word. He runs a hand through his hair, the red curls fall for a moment, then spring back.
I look away from him, toward Sayid. He’s talking to Gordon. Gordon’s arms are flailing while Sayid’s arms are up in surrender, looking like he’s calming Gordon down, or trying at least.
“You should probably go get your work assignment,” I say, so that I can get him away from my friends, so I can get him alone.
“I already got mine.” He grins.
“What’d you get?”
“Waste disposal.” A twisted smile curves his lips.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He steps closer to Sayid and Gordon. “Let’s go see your friends.” There’s something menacing behind his words.
I’m tempted to step between him and Sayid, but Gordon storms off when Dominic tries to break into the conversation. Sayid is chewing on his thumbnail when I get close. I’m not sure why he bothers, all his nails are chewed down to nubs. He’s stiff, arms crossed, looking after Gordon when we get close.
“Hey,” I say, trying to get his attention.
He nods, but doesn’t speak.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long moment, then his eyes fall on Dominic. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk in front of him. “Cameron is missing,” Sayid finally says.
“What?” He isn’t the runaway type, he’s only got a few months left. He’s got a pregnant girlfriend, he’s the type to go straight. “Do they have any—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “He’s just gone. He didn’t say anything to anyone.” A pack of cigarettes appears in his hand. He glares at Dominic, then disappears behind the building.
For a few minutes, I stare after him, torn. Every part of me wants to follow. I want to be with Sayid. One of his friends is missing, I should be there to support him. Though I’m not sure where we currently stand, seeing him through this should be more important.
Dominic has me weighted to the spot. I feel torn between the answers I need and being there for Sayid. The answers are more pressing. My intuition tells me Dominic knows where my sister is, and I’m going to find out, even if it kills me.
“I’ve got to get to work detail.” I edge away, in the direction of the stables, hoping that he’ll follow me. There are answers I need from Dominic before I can give my attention to Sayid.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, without skipping a beat.
Good.
My head is bowed as I work my way to the stables. Ginger nudges me as soon as I’m close enough, I pat her head gently. I swear, for a moment, I think I catch her glaring at Dominic. He leans against the wood, and watches me as I clean.
“So, how were things after I left?” I ask as I try not to give myself away.
He shrugs. “Stupid.”
I’m going to have to be more direct. “Have you seen Eden?”
His eyes tighten and his lips twist. He has.
“I really miss her, it’s been forever since I saw her,” I add. My last question might have been too direct.
“You know your sister hates me. So I haven’t exactly sought he
r out.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it. He scans the tree line. He’s a fucking liar.
I open my mouth, but a horn cuts across the campus. The choir of bloodhounds rise. I turn my head to look toward the sound. A group of seven guards head toward the stables. My knees shake, and I swallow hard. When I look back toward Dominic, he’s gone.
After
While the guards search the woods for Cameron, I head to my appointment with Dr. Lennox. Though I try to shut off the frustration of the last appointment, I’m on edge, uncomfortable when I get inside.
Don’t trust him. He thinks you’re a killer.
But it doesn’t matter if I trust him. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. He’s no better than anyone else here. He doesn’t care what happens to us. All the matters are the answers I need, and he’s the only way I can get them.
Dr. Lennox waits for me, sitting in one of the arm chairs with a notepad in his lap. He’s wearing a gray suit with a light plaid pattern. Beside him on the small glass table is a glass filled with amber liquid.
“Hello, Asher,” he says as I fall backward on the couch.
We exchange small talk before he finally asks, “How are you doing today?”
“Not so good,” I admit.
His eyebrows pull together, and he looks down his long crooked nose at me. “Oh?”
I’m not here to talk to him. I’m not here to heal, or to feel better. He sits in this room with his plants and his cigarettes while the rest of us disappear or die. My thoughts are bitter, acidic. There are a million pointed questions I want to ask him, but I swallow them down. The memories of the boys trapped in the back of the hospital is raw in my mind.
If you tell him too much, that could be you.
“Can we try another regression?” I hate to admit, today I’m hoping for answers about Dominic more than Olivia.
His eyes tighten, and I know he wants to argue. To deny me. But he doesn’t. Instead he shakes his head slightly and lights a cigarette.
“Lay back, we’ll get started.”