Lost Years

by MK Schiller

  Struggling not to shake her for all the days she’d given up, I focused on finding Septimus.

  I peered beneath the couch, the uneasy feeling of Frank’s eyes on me. Do not speak to me, fucker. “Any idea where the cat is?”

  “I’m sure he’s around here.” She followed me as I searched. “You should dry off. You might get sick. Let me get you a towel.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “I questioned her sudden change of plans, but she said her heart spoke to her before her brain could digest it. So funny because Scarlett wasn’t an impetuous girl.”

  As if she had any idea who Scarlett was. I swallowed back a bitter lump.

  Thankfully, the cat jumped into my arms then as if he had been searching for me, too. I petted him before placing him inside the carrier, giving him a silent promise to take care of him. God knew these people wouldn’t.

  I would have left, tamping down the fury coursing through every vein. I would have been successful, too, except Frank put his beefy hand on my shoulder. I fought a wave of nausea.

  “I’m sorry, man. Scarlett was a really sweet girl. We’ll all miss her.” He made the statement as if she was at fucking summer camp.

  The nerve he had to talk about my girl.

  “Take your fucking hand off me.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but he flinched, his hand falling away.

  “Excuse me?” her mom said. “You need to show some respect in our house.”

  I could walk away, but I hated them with every vein in my body. The hate took over. I locked eyes with her. “That missing knife in the butcher block? The long one you haven’t seen for years? I know where it is.”

  She took a step back, but my words hit home. “Where?”

  “Under Scarlett’s mattress.”

  She blinked her eyes. I saw her face transform to fear then shock. Good, she was scared of me. “You know why it’s there, don’t you? Why she wanted to have some protection in her own house? Why she didn’t feel safe? C’mon, Janice, you know exactly why. Say it. Fucking admit it.”

  “Shut up!”

  I turned to Frank. “You know why, don’t you, Frankie?”

  He held his hands up in surrender, but I caught the flicker of panic in his eyes. “Ease up, guy. This is hard for all of us. We all miss her.”

  The cat hissed. It’s okay, boy, I got this. I set the carrier and supplies down. Frank opened his mouth to say something else, but I clutched his shirt, pulling him so fast he almost tripped. Scarlett’s mom gasped, and Frank’s face registered fear.

  “I know what you did, you fucking bastard,” I spoke low and slowly. I didn’t want him to miss a word. “Every time you spent the night here, you waited till her mom was asleep and then you sneaked into her room. She was only thirteen. I don’t know the details, but I’ve imagined the fucked-up shit you did to her during those months. So fucked up she had to hide a knife under her bed just in case. It kills me what you put her through, you disgusting piece of shit.” I shook him until the seam of his shirt began ripping. “But even more than that, it makes me want to kill you. If you utter her name again it will be…Your. Last. Fucking. Word.”

  “Stop,” her mom yelled. “Let go of him.”

  I let Frank go as if he were a rag doll. I spun to her, my wrath for her even stronger. I pointed an accusatory finger. “And you. You took his side. You let her suffer and for what? For this fucking pedophile? I have no idea how my girl possessed the strength to forgive you, but she did. I’m not as good as her. I don’t forgive you. I hope you both rot for your sins. In this life and any other.”

  Her mom backed away, her mouth gaping, her shoulders tensed. “Listen, I don’t know what Scarlett told you, but she was young and confused and─”

  “Shut up. She didn’t have to tell me. How could you do that to her? You are the one person who is supposed to be on her side no matter what.” I grabbed Frank’s shirt, shaking him. “Why did you choose this depraved fuck over your own daughter? You—”

  His voice cut through, interrupting me. “Hey, you can’t talk to us like that. You only knew Scarlett for a few days. She could be manipulative.”

  Oh, Frank, you fucker. Didn’t I warn you about saying her name?

  This time, I bypassed his shirt and went straight for his neck, almost as if my arm acted on its own. My left hand squeezed his jugular with everything I had. He clasped my wrists, trying to pry my hand away, but my grip wouldn’t yield. I stared into his eyes, hoping he’d see my face in all his nightmares…just as Scarlett saw his.

  “Stop it. You’re going to kill him,” her mom yelled, but it was the other voice I heard, distant and faint and unmistakable.

  Don’t do this, Flynn. You’re better than this.

  Scarlett would not want this. Not this way.

  Okay, baby, I’ll do it for you, but only you.

  I released him, tossing him onto the same couch where I once painted her fingers. He crashed into it, gasping for air, clutching his neck now imprinted with my handprint.

  Her mom ran to him, checking his pulse before turning her face toward me. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Get out.”

  Gladly.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The rain stopped so Septimus experienced a dry walk. I, on the other hand, remained drenched. When I got to Aunt Rose’s, my father, Anna, Rose, and a very uncomfortable Keith sat around in a circle, clutching sheets of notebook paper. Pamphlets were spread out on the coffee table in front of them. I’d never had one, but I sure as fuck recognized the intervention I’d walked into.

  “Not interested,” I said.

  “We’re worried about you, Flynn,” Anna said. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you.”

  I shook my head, holding up the carrier as if Septimus could answer for me. He curled into a tighter ball instead.

  My father stood, his expression pleading. “Just talk to us, son. I have some things to say to you.” He lowered his head, his hand shakily gripping the chair. “I have much to apologize for. I almost lost you in more than one way. Please, take a seat?”

  “Dad, this is not the time.” I turned to Aunt Rose, pointing to Septimus. “This is Scarlett’s cat. He’s mine now. Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to my room. Don’t worry, I won’t try to hurt myself. I’m a man of my word.”

  I closed and locked the door behind me. I set up a litter box, water bowl, and food for Septimus from the supplies Scarlett’s mother had given me. I changed into dry clothes and fell onto the bed, hoping to God Scarlett would be in my dreams. I really needed her. The cat jumped on my stomach, crying its meows. I petted him.

  “I miss her, too. She gave both of us a home, didn’t she?”

  We were lying in bed, in a small room. She read a book. “How much longer, baby?” I asked, kissing her shoulder, working my way down her arm.

  She laughed. “You really want sex, eh?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “This is a good book,” she said, holding it up.

  “It’s a book about a rich kid with a lot of first world problems.”

  “He reminds me of you in some ways, Flynn.”

  “Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Am I a whiner?”

  She put the book down. “No, I mean, the way he talks. The fact you’re both from New York, and you are rich, too, even though you don’t act like it. I mean, you don’t have to worry about anything with your trust fund.”

  “I guess not. I never asked for the money, though. I’m aware I didn’t earn it. Is there a point to this? Or are you just trying to make my dick soft right now?”

  She answered the question with a passionate kiss that told me she had no intention of softening me in any way. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just wonder sometimes.”

  “Wonder what?”

  “If you hadn’t moved to Texas, how would ou
r lives look?”

  “I had to move to Texas. I go wherever Anna goes. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but let’s say things didn’t work out like that, and you never stayed here. Would you still like me? You’d be a different person.”

  I took her hand and kissed each fingertip. “I would love you.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  I placed her hand over my heart. “Do you feel this, Scarlett? This heart belongs to you. It beats for you and only you. When you’re not around, its rhythm is off. It doesn’t matter where I am or who I am; at the bottom of it all, I would still have the same heart, and it will always find you. You are my girl.”

  She dropped the book and crawled on top of me. “I swear to God, if you’re not fucking me with your body, you’re doing it with your words. My heart beats for you, too. I love you. I could never love anyone as I love you, Jason Flynn.”

  She kissed me, running her tongue across my lips. I put my hand on the back of her neck. I sucked in her moan and growled in return.

  She licked the outline of my lips. “Oh, you’re frisky.” It felt different somehow, but she kept doing it over and over.

  I blinked my eyes awake and managed to halt my scream at the sight of a scary black cat on top of me.

  “Damn, you’re fucking ugly,” I said. The cat hissed at me and scampered off the bed. I was sure the cat-speak would translate to, “Likewise, asshole.”

  I swallowed. My mouth tasted as if I’d eaten a pound of sand. I felt cold. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen. I found a glass and grabbed the carton of milk. Then I put the glass away and drank the whole carton.

  I could go to sleep and dream forever. That’s what I wanted to do. But a man could only live in a trance so long.

  It all started with Mick Jagger.

  Paint it black.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Septimus regarded me curiously. I wore my ear buds, blasting the song on repeat, humming along to the tune as I scraped paint off every door of the house. Until I hit pay dirt on a door at the side of the garage. If the cat could talk, he’d probably accuse me of being crazy…he’d be right. The white paint gave way to black. Beneath that was red. I heard Mick Jagger’s voice whisper in my ear…Paint it black. Take it back. No more colors. No more serenity.

  Red like in my dreams. My little intermission.

  “You want to tell me why you’re sanding my door at one in the morning, Flynn?” Aunt Rose asked.

  There was the very woman I needed to talk to. One who probably had some answers to all my fucked-up questions.

  If I hadn’t been so crazy happy I’d found Scarlett, I probably would have gone to her sooner. But I didn’t want to risk ending this.

  Fucking irony.

  I tossed the scrap of sandpaper. I turned, flashing the light in her direction. She sat on the patio with a joint dangling from her lips. She covered her eyes. “Get that light away from me.”

  The cat followed her voice, jumping onto the table. His head pushing her hand until she petted him.

  “Now what are you doing, young man?”

  “I once saw a ghost when I was five. She smelled like you.”

  “That’s interesting.” Even in the dark, I could see her hand shake over Septimus’ body.

  “Why do you call me Flynn?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t all young people go by their last names these days?”

  I punched the brick wall next to the door. “I’m not crazy. You have the answers, don’t you? I should have come to you sooner, but I can’t wait anymore. I need you to tell me, Aunt Rose.”

  “What answers?”

  “Why do I dream of Scarlett? Why did I live a different life with her than this one? You’re part of this, aren’t you?”

  “Turn on the back light, Flynn. Come have a seat with me. It’s time we talked.”

  I did as she asked. On the patio table was her special box. “Would you like some herb?”

  “No, I’d like to be as clear-headed as possible for this explanation. Are you a witch?”

  She laughed. “I don’t consider myself one.”

  “Are the snow globes like your crystal balls?”

  She snorted, shaking her head. “No, they are snow globes. Anna loved them in another life. I thought she might enjoy them in this one, too.”

  I sighed in frustration. “Explain it…please. Am I really just insane?”

  “You’re not, but the explanation is.” She took a deep drag of the joint.

  I struggled not to grab it from her hand and throw it away. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “I am a time bender.”

  I blinked, repeating the words. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I can rewind time.”

  Her statement should have shocked me, but it didn’t. It actually sounded right. “Any time? Like you could prevent Hitler from coming into power kind of shit?”

  The lines on her face deepened with her smile. “I can only go back in my own life, but that’s a textbook example. There are limitations, guidelines, and consequences. Say I did live in the time of Hitler and killed him. Maybe I saved generations of people and prevented a holocaust. On the other hand, perhaps a stronger leader emerges. Germany wins the war. This world changes…and not for the better. And if I did go back, I’m just me. Would a sole person have the skills to take down an entire regime even armed with the knowledge of the course of events? Chances are I’d fail. We know not to change major events because the outcomes are unpredictable.”

  I widened my eyes, and my heart stammered in my chest. Hope overtook the sorrow, flooding every one of my veins. Could she save Scarlett?

  She shook her head, answering my unasked question. I struggled not to fall on my knees and beg her.

  “Let me explain. There is much you need to understand.”

  I took a deep breath. “You said ‘we’ before. Are there others like you?”

  “Yes. This power I have wasn’t always clear to me, but I was different than anyone else in my family. Sort of an oddball. When I was ten, your mom and I were on the beach. I stepped on some glass. My foot was bleeding awful.

  “Your mom ran to get help. I closed my eyes and wished the pain away. That I’d never stepped on that patch of sand. Suddenly, I was back where I started with your mom beside me. The glass still on the sand and not in my foot. I had no idea what happened. When I told my sister, she laughed at me.

  “A few months later, we had a new substitute teacher at school. She had a Spanish accent and didn’t exactly fit in here. Turns out, she wasn’t just here to teach the island kids. She explained that she knew about my gift. She had the same one and wanted to teach me about it. She felt my presence when I used my powers. Just as I would feel the others when they used their power. We are interconnected that way. We may not be a part of every time shift, but we feel one the way people feel storms coming. She came to me to explain what was happening.”

  “Why do you have this…this ability?”

  “It runs in the women of our line. In our DNA. There are a few families with the trait, but it’s very rare. They call it a gift, but it feels like a genetic defect.”

  “Does Anna have the gift?”

  “I doubt it. It usually presents itself every few generations.”

  “Who else has it? You said ‘we.’”

  “I don’t really know them all that well. I just know of them. We don’t have conventions or anything. It’s not recommended we associate. Having people with this kind of power in one place is very dangerous. Time shifts can cross each other. That can be very dangerous. The woman who came to visit me lived in Argentina. She came three times during my life. The third time she asked me to visit a young girl in Mexico who’d just discovered she had the gift. There is a network. I’m not sure who runs it and I don’t really care to know. I have a feeling if I step out of line or do anything really drastic, they won’t appreciate it.”

  “I don’t understand, Aunt Rose. If so
many people have this power, how can it be a secret?”

  “There are only about a half-dozen of us in the entire world, Flynn. The first rule of time bending is you never talk about time bending.”

  “Like Fight Club.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Go on.”

  “If people found out, our powers could be misused, and we could all suffer dire consequences. History has proven that time and again. Can you imagine if the government got a hold of us? The only reason I’m telling you is because you have a gift too in a sense.”

  “What gift?”

  “You recognize when you’re inside a time shift.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She took a long drag of her joint. “When you shift time, it’s never a clean break. Fragments float from one line to the next.”

  “I can’t be the only one that sees the fragments. When you go back in time, people have to remember something is off.”

  “Of course they do.” She smashed the joint in the ashtray. “They just choose not to recognize that something is off and justify it away. Our minds constantly seek a rational conclusion. It’s a protection mechanism of sorts.” She picked some fake lint off herself. The cat purred against her.

  “He really likes you.”

  “He was my cat in the last time stream. I found him in the alley behind the diner. I’m glad Scarlett found him this time, though. She needed him. But you see, even he recognizes me. He remembers my scent or something familiar. Animals aren’t like humans. They feel more than they think so they recognize past owners and places more. But there are signs of time shifts everywhere.”

  “It’s like when Russell and Scarlett both said there was something familiar about me. Russell saw the number four and Scarlett said she was comfortable around me.”

  “That’s part of it. When you sense a familiarity with a stranger. Or when you see a face that you recognize, but for the life of you, you can’t place where. There are other things like déjà vu and love at first sight.”

  “Love at first sight?”

  “Yes, it’s a real thing, and chances are if you’re experiencing it, it’s because you’ve met the person in another time shift and already fallen in love once. A part of you recognizes them.”