Through Your Eyes

by Ali Merci

  And those seeds of hope embedded in Carmen’s chest began to show signs of growing.

  50.

  All Those Broken Hearts

  When Carmen’s eyes landed on the grand staircase a few feet away from her direct line of sight, she could almost see the ghosts of the four-year-old versions of both her and Hunter.

  They were struggling to climb those steps, clinging to the banisters like it was their lifeline then those ghosts turned into their five-year-old selves, and Hunter and Carmen no longer needed to wrap their fingers around the banisters. Then they were six-year-olds, running down the stairs and chasing each other while Sophia West screamed at them to be careful.

  “Carmen?” Hunter’s tentative voice pulled Carmen out of the flashback, and the ghosts of their six-year-old bodies vaporised into thin air and the yells of her mother turned distorted, fading into the background.

  “Nothing’s changed,” Carmen murmured, feeling a physical pain in the middle of her chest as if someone was squeezing the life out of her beating heart.

  “A lot has changed.” There was a sad smile on Hunter’s face.

  “Yes,” she said. “But... it also hasn’t. Everything is right where it used to be. The walls are still the same colour and none of the fancy stuff are taken down.”

  The Rutherford family home was a mansion with no qualms about its ostentatious appearance and Carmen remembered every single holiday spent within these walls. Her mother, who was born Sophia Rutherford, had always managed to drag both Carmen and her dad here on holidays because it was an unspoken rule that the Rutherfords celebrated together as a family.

  Changing one’s surname after marriage didn’t permit her to break this rule, so even after Sophia Rutherford had become Sophia West, the tradition continued.

  It had been the least ideal place for a child, what with its fine ornaments and fancy furniture. But Carmen hadn’t been alone then. She had Hunter, and the two of them together had always found a way to survive and make the best of it.

  In a way, Carmen supposed they’d been each other’s escape—a form of liberation from their suffocating upbringing and the extravagant lifestyle.

  And when Carmen’s mother had passed, she’d broken free of the hold this place had on her. She’d found permanent liberation with her father, a few towns away. But Hunter had remained and Carmen was beginning to realise the shackles they had on him, too.

  Carmen wondered then, if perhaps in the eyes of the six-year-old Hunter, it had been her who’d abandoned him.

  “Carmen?” Hunter’s voice was calling her again.

  She tore her eyes away from the awfully large staircase, suddenly feeling like the world around her had grown infinitely large or was it that she only felt small? That she’d shrunken considerably to a mere speck of dust? Perhaps it was both.

  This place and the people that came with it always made her feel small. Unwanted. Unloved.

  And she could feel all her confidence leaving her bones through the gaps between her fingers like grains of sand. Gone was the almost eighteen-year-old who’d grown to accept the lack of belongingness. In her place was the little girl who’d spent a good part of her life wondering what she’d done wrong. Carmen didn’t feel so strong anymore, and the panic was beginning to sink in.

  “Carmen?” This was the third time he’d called her by name, and it didn’t fail to shock her that Hunter’s tone was actually... patient.

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat.

  “We need to head into the living room,” he said, trying to smile but failing, which was okay because Carmen didn’t think she would be able to muster up a smile in return.

  “All right.” She nodded, taking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “Yeah, all right.”

  “And one more thing.”

  Carmen met Hunter’s eyes. “What?”

  He seemed to hesitate then sighed heavily. “I’m going to need you to let go of my hand before we enter the room.”

  She felt her heart sink right down to the soles of her feet, as if whatever fragile thread was holding it in place was mercilessly severed with a single swift flick of a knife.

  Carmen nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. She wasn’t supposed to rely on him like this, anyway. Besides, it would have been a big step on his part to attend this dinner he was specifically told not to. It was perfectly fine for him not to be one hundred percent willing to let the rest of them know he wanted to stand by her side.

  She felt Hunter pull his arm away and then step directly in front of her, crouching down slightly as if he was about to speak to a child, and Carmen supposed, in a way, she must’ve reminded him of a lost child right then.

  “Not because I’m having second thoughts,” he told her, as if able to read her mind. “But I don’t want them seeing it as you needing support.”

  “I do need the support,” Carmen said without hesitation, feeling no shame in admitting that she needed help sometimes. “Not really feeling all that in my element right now.”

  “How you feel doesn’t matter,” Hunter said bluntly, making Carmen involuntarily wince. “What matters is you do not appear weak because that will only give them incentive to pick on you.”

  “You think I’m weak?”

  Hunter snorted. “Are you kidding? You survived me in school. You accepted this stupid invitation. You’re here. Maybe a little rusty and a little bent out of shape, but you’re still here, standing on both feet. Heck, I’d say you were baptised by fire itself, Carmen.”

  Carmen cracked a smile at that, feeling the constriction in her chest loosen up a little, and then followed Hunter through an archway in the wall next to the staircase which she could remember led to the living room.

  While Hunter pulled off the casual demeanour, strolling into the room like he belonged there, Carmen’s body was tensed and her muscles were as stiff as lead.

  And so upon finding only one other person there, a sigh of relief fell past her lips, a sigh so heavy that it caused this particular person to whip his head towards the two of them.

  Cole Rutherford’s eyes glided right over Carmen, as if she wasn’t even there. Then again, she would rather not be acknowledged than be seen and antagonised.

  The twenty-six-year-old pushed himself off the wall, slipping his phone into his pocket as he approached them. The expensive suit he had on looked like it was tailored just for him, which it probably was.

  “Hunter,” he greeted in that low voice of his. “I thought Uncle Grayson said you guys won’t be able to make it tonight.” Uncle Grayson. As in Grayson Donoghue, Hunter’s dad.

  “Yeah.” Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “Had a change of mind.”

  Cole lifted a brow, a knowing look in his eyes. “So why isn’t your father here?”

  Carmen’s chest constricted again. She didn’t want Hunter to pay for choosing to stand by her. She knew what his father could be like.

  “You should probably ask him,” Hunter replied coolly, not appearing the slightest bit worried. Carmen wondered how good of an actor he was, because he’d have to be insane not to be worried about going against the wishes of Grayson Donoghue.

  “I will.” Cole smiled, but without any warmth to it. “Should I also ask him if his son is accustomed to bringing the trash into the house rather than taking it out?”

  Trash. He’d called her trash.

  Trash.

  Carmen thought she shrunk a little bit more.

  Hunter’s forehead creased, his eyes looking genuinely confused as he stared at Cole. “What are you talking about? I didn’t drive you here. You came by yourself.”

  Carmen’s heart jumped up from her feet to her throat as she looked at Hunter with wide, flabbergasted eyes. Was he flat out defending her? To Cole’s face? Cole Rutherford, who Hunter used to look up to back when they were kids?

  Cole’s face flushed, the tips of his ears growing a deep shade of red. “Careful, Hunter,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t want to sabotage
that shot at a football scholarship, do you?”

  Carmen watched as Hunter tensed, his body going rigid and lips forming a thin line at the barely-veiled threat.

  “I trusted you with that,” Hunter said slowly, his voice sounding almost urgent. “Don’t you dare hold it against me.”

  Cole smiled coldly, and his grey eyes—a physical feature that almost all Rutherfords had, including Carmen—flashed with warning. “Should’ve thought about that before you took the pills then.”

  Hunter’s face completely drained of colour and the two of them watched as Cole turned around with that air of superiority and walked away, all the while not even sparing a glance at Carmen.

  “Hunter, what was he talking about?” Carmen asked with a frown. “Why would you have problems with the scholarship? You’re easily a top pick for any college.”

  As if her voice was all that it took to remind him of where they were, Hunter snapped out of his troubled state and squared his shoulders again, offering Carmen a strained smile. “It’s nothing you need to bother yourself with. Don’t worry.” He waved it off. “It’s just Cole and his empty threats.”

  Carmen forced a smile in return and let it go, but deep down she knew just as well as Hunter that Cole wasn’t the type to make empty threats.

  “There you are,” a woman’s voice floated towards them and Carmen turned to find her mother’s older sister, Beatrix Rutherford, approach her with her father trailing behind.

  “Dad.” Carmen blinked in surprise. “Where were you?”

  “He was with your grandma,” Aunt Beatrix said, watching Carmen intently. Something flashed across her eyes as she continued to stare at Carmen, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. “She asked for both you and your dad, needed to speak to you about... well, I don’t really know what about.”

  “Why?” Carmen asked, unable to help the overwhelming curiosity, losing control over the questions colliding into each other in her head. “Why now?”

  Her aunt shrugged. “Must be the old age.” She paused. “She’s sick, too. Might not be long ’till she... you know. Yeah.”

  It was a shame, really, that Carmen’s presence was required by someone nearing death, someone who wanted to leave this world without a guilty conscience.

  “I see,” Carmen said with a small nod, at an utter loss on how she was supposed to respond to that.

  Aunt Beatrix lifted a brow. “That’s it? You’re not sorry to hear she’s ill?”

  Carmen didn’t respond right away, wondering what should be the diplomatic approach to that question.

  “Well…” She hesitated, making sure to sound polite and reasonable. “There are people dying everywhere. It’s just the circle of life. I can’t be feeling sorry for everyone who’s about to leave this world.”

  Something twisted in Carmen’s stomach, and she winced as the words replayed in her head, making her realise how cold they actually sounded.

  Her aunt’s lips formed a thin line. “She’s not just anyone. This is your grandmother. Your mother’s mother.”

  Carmen inhaled sharply. She may be able to tolerate the casual mention of her mother most of the time, but not when it was done so in this house. Not amongst these people. Because with them, there was always some messed-up implication or the other behind it.

  “I never had a grandmother,” Carmen told her aunt, feeling the panic and the need to just crawl into a hole beginning to take a firm hold of her. But it was true, wasn’t it? The only person she’d had so far was her father—and now Asa too.

  She’d never had grandparents, or aunts, or uncles. She’d never known what that was like.

  “Carmen.” Her father’s voice was almost neutral, if not for the subtle warning in it she picked up on.

  That made her a little angry, but more than that, she felt cornered. Ambushed. Her dad should have her back, right? If things started going south tonight? He had to.

  “That’s all right, Jonah,” Aunt Beatrix said to Carmen’s dad, not taking her eyes off Carmen. “The girl is right after all, isn’t she?”

  Before anyone could say anything else, Hunter cleared his throat from next to Carmen, breaking the tensed silence. “Hey, Aunt Bea.” He smiled easily, stepping forward and placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “You look lovely as usual.”

  Carmen saw her aunt’s eyes soften the slightest bit and she offered Hunter a half-smile. “Tell me your father knows you’re here.”

  “He’s not at home.” He shrugged. “And what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

  “Another client meeting?”

  “Don’t know. I stopped asking a long time back,” Hunter muttered, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

  Aunt Beatrix looked like she was about to respond to that, but then seemed to have a change of mind as she cleared her throat and turned towards the archway instead. “Well, now that everyone’s here, let’s start with dinner, shall we?”

  Carmen furrowed her brows and turned as well, trailing behind her aunt as they headed into the dining room. “Wait, it’s just us and Cole? I thought—”

  “Oh, no no.” Aunt Beatrix shook her head. “The others already arrived before you. I’m guessing they’ve already taken their seats at the table.”

  At that, Carmen’s stomach knotted painfully, and she almost reached for Hunter’s hand, but then recalled his words and stopped herself just in time.

  Instead, she curled her fingers into her fists, and used the pain of her nails digging into the flesh as an anchor while walking towards the large dining area.

  •••

  Nothing had happened so far.

  Carmen kept her head down, focusing on nothing but her food which was insanely delicious that it almost made her forget where she was. Almost.

  She was grateful towards the fact that it wasn’t dead silent but that most of them were actually talking amongst themselves, not too loudly but enough for there to be a steady chorus of chatter around the table. Besides, her heartbeats were deafening enough to reverberate throughout the entire mansion, and she was glad no one was forcing her to speak over that noise in her head.

  Everything was going as smoothly as she could have hoped for, really.

  Until her father’s pager was alerted and everything went straight to the pits of hell.

  Bleep. The sound ripped through the soft murmur of the dining room, making Viola Rutherford(Cole’s mother) squeal and drop her fork with a loud clatter against her plate.

  Felix, who was only five and a distant cousin of Carmen’s, jumped back in his chair and shot out his arm to steady himself, knocking his father’s wine glass in the process, the deep red liquid trickling down the surface, staining the pretty tablecloth.

  Carmen’s mouth fell open at the mess, and she turned towards her left only to find Hunter struggling to contain his laughter, ducking his head, his shoulders shaking silently.

  “What the hell was that?” someone hissed from the opposite end of the table.

  “I’m sorry, that was my—” Carmen’s father pushed back his chair and stood up, taking a few quick sips of water, “—my pager. I’m sorry, but I need to make a call to the hospital.”

  Carmen’s mind was a blank slate. It was as if all logic and reason was instantly wiped out as she fumbled with her chair and struggled to push it back and get out of it, too.

  “Well, I’ll come with you to the hospital—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Aunt Beatrix chided Carmen. “You can’t just leave during the middle of your meal. And do you really want to spend the rest of Thanksgiving in a hospital?”

  “But I need to leave with Dad—”

  “To the hospital?” Viola snorted, not even looking in Carmen’s direction. “What an inconvenience! Let your father do his job without throwing a tantrum, foolish little girl.”

  “Viola!” Aunt Beatrix hissed, glaring at the other woman who just sniffed and stuck her chin further into the air.

  “That’s enough,” Carmen's father m
uttered, rubbing his temples with his eyes shut in exhaustion. “I’m not going anywhere. I just need to step outside to make a call because the cell reception inside is too weak. It’s probably nothing; I get alerts like this on a daily basis.”

  He walked past Hunter and Carmen, nodding at his daughter reassuringly as he mouthed, It won’t take too long, just before he stepped out of the dining room.

  His words did nothing to calm Carmen down, though. She’d been there several times when her father was paged, and the calls usually lasted for at least thirteen minutes or so because he was always being asked to hold the line ’till he connected with whichever nurse had sent the alert.

  “Go on then.” Aunt Beatrix nodded towards Carmen’s plate, her tone not unfriendly. “Eat. You heard your father. He’s not going anywhere.”

  But Carmen’s appetite seemed to have vanished into thin air along with her ability to appear composed and unfazed.

  “You know,” Cole began to say, leaning back in his chair comfortably and looking at Carmen for the first time that night. “If it does turn out to be something serious, he’s going to have to attend to his patient and leave you here.”

  “I’ll leave with dad then,” Carmen said decisively, staring right back at him.

  “Your house isn’t even on the way to the hospital,” he pointed out with a slight scoff. “Are you just going to linger around in the emergency unit, then?”

  “If I have to, yes.”

  Cole’s mouth twitched before pulling up into a cold smirk, reminding Carmen of that lunch period when Hunter had found her by the lockers and offered her that very same smirk before telling her that she was the one to blame for all his misfortunes. The lunch period when she’d hidden away in the art room where Asa had later found her.

  Looking at Cole now and noticing that cold gesture Hunter himself had thrown her way time and time again made Carmen sick to the stomach.