The Life You Stole

by Ann, Jewel E.

Rubbing her quivering lips together, her eyes swept across the room, pausing on things like photos and Franz’s books in a neat pile on the coffee table. “So …” She drew in another shaky breath, sliding her sad eyes to me. “You’re leaving us.”

  “I … I …” Shaking my head, I searched for words to explain what she walked in on minutes earlier. Whiskey mingled in my veins, calming me, distorting reality. Taunting my judgment. “I think it’s best.”

  I never imagined she’d be there, but I deserved to see her face—pure anger and complete disappointment. Once again, I had failed her. Being forced to face her felt like the proper reckoning—retribution for my sins.

  “Then do it!” She clenched her jaw and fisted her hands at her sides. “But let’s be clear—” One of her fisted hands moved to cover her mouth as her words broke into pieces. “Y-you don’t love me. That…” she nodded toward the gun “…is n-not love. And I will spend the rest of my l-life knowing you didn’t truly l-love me.” Evie shoved her feet back into her boots and stood at the door with her back to me, her shoulders shaking as she held back more sobs. “And … you don’t love Franz and Anya either.” She drew in a shaky breath. “But … I do. I choose them.” She ran out the door without a final glance at me.

  Evelyn

  I drove to the shop and shut off my car lights, leaving the engine idling with the heat on. And I did the only thing I could do to keep from falling apart beyond repair. I called my mom.

  “Can you keep a secret?” I whispered after the beep to leave a message—feeling numb like it wasn’t real. Not my life. Not my husband. Not my reality.

  I told her everything. How I lived in fear of my husband dying from some otherworldly phenomenon and how I knew he was cheating on me before he ever said the words. I told her everything … but I didn’t tell her it was Lila. Nor did I mention I may have seen my husband for the last time in this life.

  I think she knew.

  “I love you, Mom. I miss you. And if you don’t have any connections to help my situation, don’t feel bad. I’ll figure something out. Just the possibility that you’re listening is enough. Today I miss you more…” the next round of emotions burned my eyes “…than I have in all the months you’ve been gone. Today I j-just really n-need my mom.”

  Shutting off the engine, I traipsed through the snow to my shop. The streetlight filtered through the front window. The many herbal scents filled me with the familiar.

  My comfort zone.

  My haven.

  I locked the shop door behind me, leaving the lights off while I just … stood in the middle of shelves and displays. How could I go back there?

  How could he say that to me?

  How could he take his own life in the middle of our home, where the kids could’ve seen their father’s brains and blood scattered everywhere?

  “I hate you,” I whispered to his soul in case he already pulled the trigger.

  “I hate you for offering me a chair in that fucking cafe!” I pushed over a display, sending products crashing to the floor. “I hate you for asking me to marry you!” Another display took the brunt of my wrath. “I hate your oatmeal.”

  Crash!

  “I hate having coffee with you!”

  Bang! Crash!

  I shoved everything from two more shelves.

  “I hate when you sing in the shower!”

  Crash! Crash! Crash!

  “I hate you for saving Lila and TOUCHING her!”

  Bang! Crash!

  With nothing left on any of the shelves, I fell to my knees and buried my face in my hands. And I just … cried. “I … hate … you …”

  Eventually, I picked myself up off the ground and made it back to my car. I couldn’t go home, so I made the insane decision to drive back to Denver. At that moment, sanity felt like an unreachable state of mine. After all, my husband was probably dead, slumped over our kitchen table—whiskey still clutched in his left hand.

  Not my life. Not my husband.

  I didn’t remember the curves, the times my car nearly slid off the road, or the slew of snow plows I encountered on the long drive. By the time I arrived at nearly two in the morning, I just knew that I needed Lila to explain how we got there. How she could throw away a lifelong friendship to feel my husband touch her?

  Being a permanent approved guest, the guard opened the gate as soon as he saw my face when I rolled down the window. I pounded on the front door over and over and incessantly pressed the doorbell. The light over the door turned on just as Graham opened the door, half asleep in his signature pajama bottoms but no shirt.

  “Evelyn?” He squinted his eyes, scratching his head.

  “Where’s Lila?” I brushed past him.

  “She’s not here. What’s wrong?”

  Before I reached the stairs, I turned back to him as he shut the front door. “Where is she?”

  “We had a fight. She left.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “Where did she go? What happened to your face?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he shrugged. “Lila happened to my face.”

  “What? No. She wouldn’t do that. Where is she, Graham? How can you not know? What was the fight about?”

  I felt like ten cups of coffee at the end of a marathon. The chill of a cold shower when I needed ten hours of sleep. Nothing felt right.

  Everything … everything was wrong.

  Graham deflated on a long sigh and averted his gaze to the white and gray marble floor between us. “I found out she had an affair.”

  “With who?” I whispered.

  One slow inch at a time, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “I think you know that answer.”

  I swallowed that added dose of reality; it hurt going down that time almost as much as it did when Ronin confessed it. And it stirred up more emotions. “How did this happen?” I said on a tiny sob as my vision blurred behind more tears.

  Graham closed the distance between us and hugged me, resting his cheek on my head. “I don’t know. I just … don’t know.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “Not true.” He kissed my forehead. “You can have your pick of bedrooms. Even mine. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  I pulled away and shook my head. “I need to be alone.”

  “Of course. Come on.” He took my hand and led me up the stairs. “You probably don’t want to sleep in Lila’s room. It’s been cleaned, including the sheets. But you could grab something to wear from her closet.”

  “Night,” I barely managed that one word.

  As I started to pull away from him, he tightened his grip. I glanced down at his hand squeezing mine before meeting his gaze.

  “We’ll get through this. Together. I’m always here for you.”

  I tried to form a smile, but my face refused to cooperate. Widows didn’t smile. After he released my hand, I headed toward Lila’s room and Graham padded his bare feet in the other direction.

  Turning on the light, I shut and locked Lila’s bedroom door. Everything was in its place. The bedding crisp and void of a single wrinkle. Vacuum lines in the carpet like it had recently been cleaned. Even fresh flowers in a vase on her nightstand. It didn’t look like the room of a woman who physically abused her husband and left without a word.

  Too tired to look for something to sleep in, I tossed the three-deep layer of pillows from her bed and tugged down the comforter and sheets that the housekeeper tucked into each side military-style. As I started to climb into her bed, my gaze snagged on something barely peeking out from under the mattress. Lifting the edge of the mattress, I pulled out a black leather-bound book.

  A journal.

  I opened it and quickly flipped through the pages, not reading a single word. Lila loved journaling when we were younger. Organizing her thoughts helped her deal with so much grief. Setting it on the nightstand, I clicked the light remote and buried myself under the covers.

  It took one … one single second for reality to hit.
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  It was real. It was my life. That man with the gun was my husband.

  “Roe …” I whispered closing my eyes. “Why did you leave me?” My heart ached so much; I knew it would never beat the same way again.

  Would Franz and Anya ever forgive me for not saving him? I hoped so. Maybe one day I would explain what happened to him, how he tried to be a superhero, and how he discovered he wasn’t immortal. How I discovered I couldn’t rescue him anymore because he was destroying me.

  Franz and Anya. I thought only of them in the final seconds before I turned and left Ronin alone in the kitchen. They needed me. I saved the very best of my husband, the very best of me because I chose them.

  After tossing and turning, rubbing my aching chest, and wiping tears all over the pillow, I sat up, unable to breathe well. Flipping on the light again, I crossed my legs and practiced slowing my breathing, taking in long breaths and letting them out slowly. Glancing over at the nightstand, I stared at the journal for a few seconds.

  Yes. Reading her journal felt like a violation of her privacy. I never read her journals when we were younger. But she crossed a line with Ronin. Her privacy no longer meant that much to me.

  Praises for her new husband filled the first part of her journal. I didn’t care to read every word, every detail about their life—some details were about their sex life. I skipped ahead. She expressed frustration with her role as First Lady. I could have predicted that. Skipping ahead again, I read a few opening lines of another entry, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop because I couldn’t believe the words on the page.

  I feel so stupid. So blind. So trapped.

  He manipulates me. It’s not rough sex. It’s not a physical need. At least … not anymore. I blindly fell for his excuses because he hurt me during sex. He justifies it. He makes me feel like my orgasm rights any sort of wrongs. It always leaves me confused because I love Graham. I love our intimacy, and sometimes I love the intensity, even when a little pain is the price to pay for pleasure. My desire to please him blinds me.

  Today, everything changed. It’s not a fetish or a preference. It’s a sickness. Only a sick man breaks his wife’s nose because she playfully grabbed his phone when he wouldn’t give her his attention. I wanted him to notice me, my new white dress. Now, that white dress is in the trash, covered in blood.

  “Oh my god …” I whispered as my tears fell to the pages. It didn’t stop. So much detail. I remembered her broken nose. It was shortly after I found out I was pregnant with Franz.

  Ronin … I feel so responsible. I should have died on that mountain. I wanted to die. Why did he try to save me? I didn’t want to be saved. How am I still here? …

  “Lila …” I whispered. It wasn’t an accident that day. She went in the wrong direction on purpose. My friend. How did I not see it?

  The bruises are getting hard to hide …

  Graham called me Evelyn during sex …

  I thought about ending my life today, but I don’t want to add to Evelyn’s stress. Her mom is not well. She needs me …

  My biggest dream became my worst nightmare when the pregnancy test came back positive …

  I can’t even breathe. I told Graham about the baby. He said I had to get rid of it. I said no. He got rid of the baby. The bleeding stopped two days ago, but I still have the bruises. He was right. We can’t have children.

  It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Ronin wasn’t dead. And Graham didn’t kill his own child. Things like that only happened in horror movies. Only fictional characters could be that monstrous.

  It just … wasn’t real.

  Pages. So many pages of awful, gruesome, heartbreaking detail.

  Ronin hugged me and he said it made his pain go away. It made mine go away too …

  I had to find an excuse for my bruises … so now I have leukemia.

  “Jesus …” My hand flew to my mouth. I could barely read the words through my tears. It wasn’t real. I pleaded with any god who would listen to me, begging for it to not be real.

  Evie told me Graham gave her the Clean Art building. He loves her. I wonder if he ever loved me …

  Ronin needed me again today. It feels incredible to be needed. Evelyn is so lucky …

  Graham has sex with me when I don’t want it. That’s rape. I think. I’m not sure. I don’t think his sick mind understands what he’s doing, and I don’t know how to help him …

  I just want to die …

  I shaved my head to look the part of a leukemia patient. Graham hit me. He thinks I’m ugly now. How did this happen to me? …

  Ronin made me feel beautiful today. I felt something for him I should not feel. I think it did something to him. He felt tortured when he felt my desire for him. I can’t imagine what it must be like to feel two people at once. Nothing happened. We love Evelyn.

  I sobbed thinking of what I always told Graham. We love Lila more.

  The pages were never ending, the revelations dizzying.

  I walked in on Graham masturbating to a video of him and Evie having sex. It shattered me. There are no real words to describe my level of brokenness. The complete desolate feeling of betrayal by the person I loved more than anyone in this world.

  “What? No. No, no, no …” My jaw hung in the air. Lies. What was wrong with her? It suddenly made me question everything I’d read up to that point.

  He raped me again. I let him. I bit his face. His bitter blood tasted like a tiny bit of revenge. Then he nearly suffocated me with a pillow. Why did he stop? …

  I want to die … We agreed I would die …

  Ronin needed me today. I needed him too. I wore a pretty dress with my best lingerie underneath it. I wonder what Evelyn wore to seduce Graham? I guess nothing lasts forever. Not even lifelong friends …

  I felt him at my back, turned on, begging me to stop. I couldn’t stop. And if he’d known about Graham and his wife, he wouldn’t have wanted me to stop. I take away his pain. All of it …

  His hand on my breast …

  Sliding between my legs …

  He took off his shirt …

  Kept on his pants …

  I hated the material between us. I wanted to feel him inside of me, but he couldn’t go that far …

  We held each other for hours …

  When I awoke he was gone …

  We hurt Evelyn. And maybe she deserved it. But it felt awful. I am awful …

  I want to die …

  Tossing the journal aside, I ran to the bathroom and heaved in the toilet, a cold sweat beading along my brow, my heart racing so fast it felt ready to explode through my chest.

  After rinsing my mouth, I wobbled on unsteady legs back to the bed. Sitting on the edge, I stared at the journal, unsure if I could read another word.

  But … I had to keep going. If Ronin took his life because of the words in that journal, I owed it to myself and to him to read every last word.

  Graham beat me within an inch of my life. I’m blind in one eye. My jaw is certainly broken. And I lost a tooth. But I don’t even care about my condition. He told me the woman in the sex video was not Evelyn …

  Not. Evelyn …

  She will never forgive me. What I did was unforgivable. I hate Graham for lying to me. Still, I hate me more …

  Today I will reunite with my mom and dad …

  “NO!” I covered my mouth quickly to hide my complete breakdown, dropping the journal on the floor. I grabbed a pillow and cried, sobbed, nearly died in that moment. What if? What if Lila and Ronin were both gone? How could I live in that kind of world? How could I be a good mom if the people who loved me the most in the world were gone?

  I scooted off the bed onto my knees and picked up the journal with shaky hands and tiny sobs racking my whole body.

  It’s time …

  A special note to my very best friend, my true other half, my sister, my family, my life—Evelyn. If you’re reading this, I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for the accident, for Ronin, for not
being what Graham needed me to be. I don’t blame him for loving you. You are everything good about life. Please find it in your heart to forgive Ronin. Today … I will set him free. He will truly be yours again in every way. I love you, Evie. I’ll give your mom a hug, and we’ll look forward to seeing you again someday. But take your time. This life of yours is nothing to be rushed. Live it. Love without regret. But please … please … forgive.

  Forever your favorite lesbian lover, Lila <3

  My body shook violently as I muffled my sobs with my hand over my mouth. I let Graham into my life, and he destroyed everything.

  Blank pages followed her final entry to me. Until … the very end. On the last two pages there was a list: Reasons for Bruises.

  “Oh my god …” I cried more, blurring her long list of … lies. All the things she told people to explain her bruises. Some of them were crossed off, like tripping and dislocating her shoulder and fracturing her wrist. A tennis ball breaking her nose. A bookend falling on her face. Self-defense class injuries. Leukemia …

  Before I could deal with my grief and sort it from my anger, Graham knocked on the door. “Are you okay? I thought I heard you yell just a minute ago.”

  I stood, fueled by pure rage. When I opened the door, Graham didn’t get one word out before I smacked his face so hard I felt the burn clear up to my shoulder.

  “What the fuck, Evelyn?” He covered his cheek as I stormed past him, hugging the journal to my chest.

  He deserved to be arrested. To go to prison. I couldn’t let him get away with it.

  “Stop! Where are you going?” He chased me down the hallway and grabbed my arm, spinning me back around.

  “LET GO OF ME!” I screamed, hoping his security people outside would hear me.

  Graham instantly released me and held up his hand, confusion lining his forehead. “Okay. Okay. Just tell me what I did?”

  “You killed Ronin! You murdered Lila! You killed your own child! You raped her and beat her, you SICK FUCK!” I cried even through my anger.

  “That’s not what happened.” He shook his head. “Ronin fucked her in my library. I can show you the tape. Then you’ll know. We married the wrong people, Evelyn. It’s you … it’s always been you.”