by Lily White
His hand was attached to a demon I had no chance to forget. So you can imagine why I wanted it off my lips.
Noah pulled away from me, carefully, slowly, so damn hesitantly that I swore he’d lunge forward again. I didn’t scream immediately. I knew better. A stupid girl would get herself killed in this chair if she didn’t behave and play the game. And hell, maybe that’s what my plan should have been, to push and prod at him until he had no choice but to finish the slaughter.
Rolling my sore neck over equally sore shoulders, I steadied myself enough to pretend I wasn’t rattling the bars of my cage from the inside out.
“What happens if I scream? Just curious.”
The corner of his lips twitched and for a flash of a second, there and then gone, I saw the boy who had grown up next door to me. It stung, that peek. More than I wanted to admit.
“Son of a bitch. Twenty-two years and you’re still as aggravating as I remember.”
Our eyes met, held each other as the years sped past. Childhood friends turned lovers turned enemies, the unfairness of it all a slap to the face. It was a constant montage in my head, never ending, never fading, the flickering borders scrawled with a thousand scripted questions.
“I’m just trying to figure out how long I have until you kill me like you did my entire family.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I looked away, focused my eyes on a wilting bouquet of flowers in a glass vase. The leaves had shriveled and the colorful petals decayed, a few having escaped the buds to flutter to the table. It only made the memories rush back faster.
“I didn’t kill anybody,” he said, breaking my concentration on a thing of beauty that was starting to rot. “And I would have told you that if you’d given me a minute to explain.”
My head snapped his direction.
“Oh yeah? Then who did? Who waltzed into my house and killed them, Noah? You had a chance to explain. You had a lawyer who could have written your explanation all over the courtroom walls, but all I got out of you was silence.”
He stilled in place, warning written in narrowed eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the curl of his cruel hands.
“I don’t know.”
A sound escaped me, half croaking laugh, half snort.
“That’s convenient.”
He stepped forward, reached out to me, but then snapped his hand back like he couldn’t trust himself.
“Don’t you remember anything, Ensley? Any detail of that night or the week leading up to it? One goddamned thing?”
“Shouldn’t you be in prison?” I shouted, breaking the promise I’d made to him only a few minutes before. “How are you even standing here?”
Silence again, his gaze searching my face with so much sorrow behind it that I felt every pang in his chest, the same toxin in his veins running through mine because it had always been that way between us.
If you go, I go... He’d said that to me every time I confessed I wanted to die. Noah was the only reason I didn’t. I had to fight the thought back, shield myself from what it would do if I allowed it to seep through me like acid.
Stepping away, he scrubbed two hands down his face, frustration a low growl rattling the ribs in his chest. He spun on me, his blue eyes peering out from behind work worn fingers, beautiful lips speaking against his palms.
“We’ll get to that.”
His hands dropped limp to his sides, the weight of our problems resting like a thousand pounds of steaming hot garbage nestled over his weary shoulders.
Garbage because it came from us.
Garbage because that’s what my life had been.
My throat hurt from screaming and I eyed the sweet tea that had been left on the table beside me.
“Can I ask for a favor?”
Noah tracked my line of sight and laughed softly.
“How can you be sure I haven’t poisoned it?”
Lifting my eyes, I answered, “Are you really so sure I’d care?”
Only he would understand how serious I was.
“Still there, huh? Still dreaming? I’m a little shocked you’ve made it this long.”
“If I go, you go, remember?”
The words struck him with the force of a speeding bus. He flinched, the spoken reminder hurting him just like the memory hurt me every time I held that gun.
“What would you care? I killed your family, remember?”
I smiled and knew damn well that last comment was sarcasm on his part. It didn’t matter, I’d accept it as the confession he never gave me.
“I wanted you to suffer, Noah. Locked up and behind bars for as many years as they would keep you. Far be it from me to pull the trigger and give you an excuse to follow.”
Where I’d expected him to scoff or yell, threaten me or storm off on angry, volatile steps, Noah simply stared at me instead, an expression on his face he had no right to give.
Seconds ticked by like marching ants, and I counted them in my head. I’d reached seventeen before Noah’s voice broke my concentration, so soft it was disturbing.
“I would have followed. Even after everything - that night, the trial, your testimony against me - I would have found a way if I learned you’d finally had enough. If you go, I go, Ensley. That has always been true.”
His words tore through me like claws, shredding open my skin to reveal all the ugliness inside me. It wasn’t that he needed to look very hard. He knew what lingered beneath the surface, knew all the horrible words written on my soul, all the secrets that lay buried.
In the end, we’re all just roadmaps of thoughts and emotions, memories and forgotten wishes. Our jagged edges are softened only by the masks we wear to disguise our truth.
That truth, when revealed, is always monstrous.
Noah didn’t need to dig very deeply to discover what he’d known all along.
I was weak. I was miserable. I was abused.
But I was also one of the strongest people that walked this Earth because I’d managed to keep breathing despite it.
I hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. Not yet.
But there was always tomorrow, wasn’t there?
Shoving that thought aside, I allowed anger to creep in. How fucking dare he?
Noah had lost the right to know me the second he killed my family.
“I need you to walk away,” I said, my eyes closing as my wrists shook against the ropes that bound me in place. Something slithered inside me, dark and disgusting, memories rolling from its wide-open mouth that I couldn’t allow to escape.
My voice climbed until it was an enraged bellow so loud it shook the walls. “Get the fuck away from me.”
Melinda came rushing in at the sound, pacing behind Noah, unsure what to do. Quietly, she called his name, but it didn’t cause him to look away from me. Not at first. Not until he could pull himself back together enough to remember we weren’t teenagers anymore.
Cursing beneath his breath, Noah stormed from the room, his boots clomping heavy against wooden floors, a door opening and slamming in the distance.
I was exhausted, my mind struggling to understand how I ended up in this place. It was the feeling of free falling. That spiral inside yourself when an elevator drops too fast or you’re shoved off a rock toward clear water. I needed to steady myself again. Needed the only thing that would make sense to me now.
“Hey, Melinda. What time is it?”
Melinda turned to look at me, her eyes blinking once then twice, hands fluttering in front of her chest and to her sides before she glanced at her watch and answered. “Six thirteen. Why?”
One hour and thirteen minutes into the sixth two hour block.
If I were at home, I’d be cooking dinner. I’d have seventeen minutes to finish.
CHAPTER SIX
ENSLEY
September 21, 1991
The moment I heard the horn blow, I launched myself from the couch, tiny arms attaching to my legs from which I carefully kicked myself away. The kids kn
ew what that sound meant, that booming call that shook the windows of every house on the block. But they didn’t feel the same rush of need, the same relief that, for a few days at least, everything would be okay.
I was halfway out the door when my momma yelled at my back, her voice thick with jealousy, “Go ahead and run to him, Ensley. He’ll be gone before you know it.”
Screw her and her stupid comments. Momma was only mad because she would have to play a good mother for the next week...maybe longer if I could convince Daddy to stay.
Slamming the door behind me, I beamed at the massive rig parked outside the house. Sun glimmered off the chrome smoke stacks, a tangle of wires and cords curling in a mess over the stunted bed like snakes.
Without its trailer, Daddy’s truck looked like something a child would draw with a handful of crayons, silly in size and shape, but the colors could take the breath away. Deep reds and a vibrant blue stripe, the words Bennett Hauling written in fancy letters that ran down the side.
Daddy climbed down as soon as he saw me, a broad smile on his face as he crouched to catch me in his arms. I ran as fast as my feet could go, across that porch, down the rickety stairs, across the weed and dirt lawn, launching myself against him as soon as I was within reach.
I was a mess of arms and legs, crawling up him like a monkey. His chest shook with a deep belly laugh as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Ensley, my girl, I’ve missed you so much.” He held me at the shoulders and tilted me away from him. “Have you grown? Stand down on your feet, and let me see.”
Placed on my feet, I let Daddy measure me. He held a hand over my head that he compared to where it hit his hip, as if my growth chart was on him and not a doorframe.
“Definitely grown.” He knelt down, our eyes at the same level. “I seem to remember somebody had a birthday. Did your mom get you something nice?”
I nodded, lying.
It wasn’t like I could tell him the truth. When Daddy was home, Momma pretended to be the perfect wife and mother. She doted on the kids, took care of them, made sure I got to school on time and never yelled. He would stay longer when she was like that. But if I told him the truth, if I told him what my life was like while he was on the road, they’d fight as soon as he walked in the door, and he’d leave again...and I would be alone to deal with her.
It was a hard lesson to learn when I was younger. I’ve been lying to him since I was six.
A large hand ruffled my hair, his grey eyes staring straight into mine.
“That’s good. I’m sorry I missed it again, Ens. Maybe next year, huh? You know how it is-“
“Daddy needs to work to pay the bills,” I parroted the same words he said to me every time he came home.
“That’s right.”
He grabbed my hand, pushed up to his full height and was tugging me along when a voice called out down the sidewalk.
“Nice truck. Can I look inside it?”
My head snapped right to see Noah running up to us, excitement written in a smile that stretched his cheeks, two dimples digging deep into the skin. It was instantaneous, the urge to shoo him away so I could have my father all to myself. It wasn’t like he’d waited months to see him.
Daddy released my hand, his shoulders rolling as his chest pushed out with pride. He loved talking about his truck, was always happy to show people what it looked like on the inside.
“Sure can. But first you need to tell me your name, young man.”
Noah stopped so fast he almost tipped forward on his toes, those big blue eyes casting a quick look my way before reaching up to my father’s height.
“Noah.”
“Sorry, son, but you’ll need to do better than that. When a man introduces himself, he does so with a full name.”
“Noah Mason Carter.” The words rolled together into one with as fast as he spoke.
“That’s better.”
Tapping me on the shoulder, Daddy told me to hang on for a few seconds while he gave Noah a look at the truck. I watched with jealous eyes as he lifted Noah to the steps and opened the door. He kept a protective arm slung over the opening as Noah crawled around the interior asking about the different buttons and knobs. He let Noah blow the horn, and I jumped back at the sound.
After pulling Noah out, he set him on the sidewalk and closed the truck door, both of them walking toward me while talking about the truck. I didn’t mind. Noah wasn’t all that bad. For the past few weeks, he followed me home and had become a kinda sorta friend. He even tripped that nasty Josie Buckland for making fun of my clothes. She hasn’t said a word since and Noah didn’t get in trouble for her busted lip.
“So, Ensley, you didn’t tell me you had a new friend.” Daddy’s mouth curled at the corner as he turned to Noah, a fake official voice deepening his tone. “What are your intentions with my daughter, son?”
Noah’s cheeks burned red, his eyes unblinking. He stammered over a few nonsense sounds, a nervous tongue unable to form words. I rolled my eyes and helped him out.
“He’s just a friend, Daddy. He lives next door.”
Grey eyes darted my way, my father’s hair the same color as mine. I looked more like him than I did my mother, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.
“The boy next door, huh?”
He chuckled, shook his head.
“Well, it’s good to have friends, Ensley, as long as you two respect one another.”
I shot a look at Noah. He stared back at me looking terrified to say or do the wrong thing.
Daddy’s expression softened. He glanced at our house and I saw the humor drain from his face.
“Guess we should get inside and see your mother.”
He was never happy to see her. I thought that was why he stayed away so much.
We said goodbye to Noah and climbed up the porch steps, Daddy mumbling something about needing to fix them before leading me inside.
Momma stood with my sisters and brother surrounding her, a picture perfect mother and wife.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ensley
Present
I dream of my father often.
In most, we were driving down some long road far from where I lived. Up high like we were, you could see for miles, the road wavering like water in the distance. There would always be some country song blasting, his strong hand gripping the wheel, his eyes covered by sunglasses as we rolled forward, just us.
Beside us, the landscape would change from dream to dream: dry land scorched and arid from the red heat of the sun, dots of oddly shaped trees, black silhouettes against a rolling haze of orange and yellow would change into lush forests of verdant green, the ground soft with swampy mud and patches of tall grass where frogs would sing and the noses of gators would peek out, their deep croak a warning that an ambush predator lingered.
Then suddenly we were in a bustling city, the sky reflected in tall, mirrored buildings, faceless people wandering who made you feel a little less alone. It changed again and we were zigzagging over a mountain road, a thin strip of serpent concrete carved across rising spires where animals foraged and the peaks were covered in ice so thick, it looked like ice cream topping a cone.
It didn’t make sense to me where the imagery came from. Daddy never took me on any of his cross-country trips, but I think it was another fantasy of mine. I’d beg and beg on the days he would leave, just toss me up in the truck and we’d be gone, but he always shook his head, a deep voice telling me that I needed to be in school and stay home to help Momma.
I hated that woman even more than myself, had wished her dead more times than I could count. But she just kept living and yelling and whacking me upside the head, each year growing more evil with age.
Daddy could never protect me from her. The only person who ever tried was Noah.
“Wake up.” A light slap against my cheek, my joints revolting, muscles stiff and aching, the corners of my mouth on fire from the gag tied too snug over my face.
F
or a moment, I couldn’t open my eyes, the snapping sound not there. An alarm didn’t blast, and I wouldn’t have the first ten minutes I desperately needed. I was someone else, obviously, a woman returned to earlier years, an angry, sad and hopeless teenager whose eyes would pull apart slowly.
Noah came into view, a blurry shape I remembered from so many mornings that I didn’t see the older man with rough skin and hard muscle, or the scowl that stained his lips. I saw a boy hovering above me, his hand gentle on my cheek and a smile that would fade as the years crawled forward because my monster infected him too.
“Ensley, hey,” another light tap, “wake up, we need to talk.”
Kinda hard to talk with the gag in my mouth...
I chuckled at the thought.
It wasn’t funny.
Delirium will do that to you.
My eyes struggled to focus, a few seconds or even minutes passing before I had a clearer picture of the person in front of me, the prisoner who was in the wrong place and had stolen me from a library parking lot. How had he even known where to find me in the first place?
“We’re leaving here in a few hours,” he said, blue eyes flicking back and forth as he searched my face. “And we need to set some ground rules so this trip isn’t as miserable as it can be. I’d hate to have to drive around with you in the trunk.”
Rolling my eyes, I mumbled behind the gag, prodding him to remove the damn thing or else this would be a boring, one-sided conversation.
Still angry that he’d left me in this chair all night, I was afraid of the moment he would stand me up. My body was revolting already from being stuck in place for God knows how many hours.
Catching the mumbled hint, Noah tugged the gag loose, his fingertips brushing my cheeks as he pulled it away and tossed it.
“Better?”
It wasn’t. The open air burned where the cloth had chafed my skin, my jaw locked in place so hard that I had to stretch against the pain to ask my first question.
“What time is it?”
Noah’s brows tugged together, but he left the room for a second, came back and answered, “Eight fifty-two.”