by Hanna Peach
“It’s being fixed. The damage wasn’t that bad.” Clay narrowed his eyes. “You don’t trust me. Aria, you’re being paranoid. Salem had nothing to do with my accident.”
Hard to trust you when you’re lying. I knew he was. I just had this feeling deep down inside but I couldn’t tell you where it came from or why. Clay was hiding something.
Flick stared at me when she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I need to talk to someone.” Someone who isn’t lying to me.
She stepped aside to let me in.
I stayed at Clay’s last night. But the tension was there underneath everything. Clay had tried to pretend that everything was fine but I knew he was covering. I knew it. I wasn’t just being paranoid. Too many things were suspicious to me.
This morning I left early instead of spending the day. I made an excuse and drove around, my mind wandering, my arms turning the wheel automatically, not wanting to go home in case Salem was there. That’s how I finally found myself at Flick’s place.
Flick made us both a coffee and sat me down on her couch and waited.
This would be the first time I ever confided in anyone who wasn’t Salem or Clay. But I couldn’t seem to talk to either of them about this. Shouldn’t I be able to talk to my sister and my boyfriend about anything? How did I get here? How did we get here?
“It’s about Salem…and Clay.”
Flick’s eyes widened. She motioned for me to continue.
I began to tell her bits and pieces of the last few weeks: Salem’s growing resistance against Clay, her refusal to have dinner with him, them meeting accidentally, her advice to break up with him, her anger that I wouldn’t leave Mirage Falls with her, and that she’d been stalking Clay. Finally, I told her about Clay’s accident and about the scrape suddenly appearing on my car that looked like Mustang red paint.
“Jesus, is Clay okay?”
“He’s fine. He was released yesterday.”
“What does Clay say about this? I mean, he was there. Did he see Salem driving the car that ran him off the road?”
“He says he just lost control of the car. He refuses to admit that there was another vehicle present.”
Flick frowned. “So you think he’s lying? Why would he lie about Salem trying to hurt him? Why would he protect her?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe he thinks he’s protecting me by protecting her. I mean, if he turned her in then there’d be grounds to arrest Salem and…if she was arrested…” They’d figure out who she was. They’d tie her to our father’s murder. And then she’d go away for life. This made sense. This was why Clay was protecting Salem. He was protecting her for me.
Except…I never told Clay about my father’s murder.
I rubbed my face with my fingers. “Salem’s had a rough life. She’s still trying to deal with things that…” I shook my head, “if those things had happened to me, I don’t think I would be able to cope the way she has. I’m not sure I’d still be alive. I’m so worried about her. I think she needs help that I can’t give her.” Not anymore. Or maybe I was never able to help her. I only thought I was helping.
“Honey, if she needs help, you need to talk to someone. A professional.”
That’s exactly what Clay said. I sighed. I wanted to but, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I know her. She won’t go.”
“Maybe you just have to make that decision for her.”
I froze. “What…what do you mean?”
“Hang on a sec.” Flick disappeared into her room. I sat sipping my coffee, which I could barely taste, and I heard the sound of drawers being opened and shut.
She returned and held out a white business card.
I didn’t move to take it. “What is it?”
She cleared her throat. “I had an uncle who needed…help. We called them and they…took care of him.”
I frowned and took the card.
Hellingly Country Hospital - Psychiatric Facility
Peregian Beach, Queensland
There was an address and a phone number underneath.
“You had him committed.”
“Cruel to be kind, honey. Cruel to be kind.”
“I can’t do that to Salem.”
“You’d rather she gets worse?”
“No, but…”
“Just take it. You don’t have to use it. But just take it, just in case.”
I stared at the card, the letters blurring together.
I could call them. I could confess everything I knew about Salem. Perhaps I had been crazy for thinking I could help her on my own.
Then she’d hate you. She’d see this as a betrayal.
I could already see Salem’s face, round, disbelieving eyes as they dragged her away. How could you do this to me?
I couldn’t just send her away. I had to talk to her first.
Salem was my twin, my best friend. My soulmate. I’d get her side of the story. Then I’d make her see that Clay wasn’t a threat. She would never hurt me. Right?
I slipped the card into my bag. I wasn’t going to use it. So why did it feel like I was already betraying her?
It was late afternoon when I left Flick’s and finally headed home.
“Salem?” I called as I pushed open the door. My living room was empty like it had been for days now. Salem, where are you? I wanted to scream. I’m not mad, just please come home. Let me know you’re okay.
I shut the front door behind me and dumped my bag on the kitchen counter. I walked into our bedroom and stared at her corner. Did it look like her stuff had moved? Had she been home when I wasn’t here? Why would her duffel still be there? Wouldn’t she take it with her if she was leaving for good?
She wouldn’t leave without you.
So where was she?
Maybe something amongst her things would tell me where she’d gone? Maybe she’d return to somewhere she’d been before? I grabbed her pile of clothes and threw them on the bed so I could go through them properly, turning out pockets as I went.
Wait…was that my dress? I frowned. It was. My white peasant dress with the cute buttons up the front. I’d wondered where that had gone. When had I even last worn it?
When we were kids we used to share clothes. But as adults it had seemed that our tastes had peeled apart. Why would she borrow my dress?
Unless she wanted to look like me.
Unless she wanted Clay to think she was me.
I shook my head. Ridiculous. That was ridiculous. Why would she want that? But I couldn’t shake this uneasiness that had settled in the pit of my stomach.
I found nothing in her pockets or amongst her clothes. They all needed laundering. Had she even bothered to wash anything since she got here?
I picked up her duffel bag and threw that on the bed. There were wads of cash stuffed in the pockets. This made me sink a little with relief. Salem wouldn’t leave for good without her money. She would be back for sure.
But where was she now?
There was nothing else in here. No ID. No receipts or books or scraps of paper. No semblance of identity at all. I put her duffel back in the corner and threw all the clothes from the bed back on it. Something white, blending in with her pillow, caught my eye. It was a small book left open, the pages flapping lightly from the breeze coming in through the window. I hadn’t noticed it sitting there before I had thrown the clothes on top of it.
The pages flicked across to one that had writing on it. I recognised Salem’s messy scrawl that only I seemed to be able to read; it hadn’t changed from when she was younger.
This looked like her journal.
I picked it up, then paused. I shouldn’t be reading her journal.
But it might tell you where she’s gone.
She left her money here. She’ll be back. You can’t invade her privacy like that.
I went to close it but I spotted Clay’s name on the page. I frowned, sca
nning the page. She’d been writing about him.
I shouldn’t. I should leave her to her privacy. But…she had been so off I just needed to look inside her head and see what was going on with her.
I glanced over my shoulder. I was still alone in my apartment. I closed the bedroom door, sat on the bed and began to read.
Wednesday, 4 November
Clay fucking Jagger. I heard your knock. It sounded through the living room like a gunshot boom boom. I should have known better than to have answered it.
I saw you standing there, eyes like forget-me-nots, and I almost stopped breathing. I’d almost forgotten how fucking hot you were. Almost. You brushed your fingers through your hair and that single movement, that deliberate movement, so adorably boyish adding a youthful innocence to your sharp masculine jaw and bottomless dark eyes.
You’re far from innocent. I know it more than most.
The smile you gave me almost stopped my heart. Hah, there, I’m dead. No one ever looked at me the way you looked at me. No one ever smiled the way you smiled at me.
“Hey, angel,” you breathed, and your voice rumbled into my body. A stark realisation unlatched the bottom to my stomach. You weren’t looking at me. You were looking at her. You thought I was her.
“I missed you.” Your voice, your fucking voice. Vibrant and rumbling and barbed, digging into my skin and making it pebble. I couldn’t take my damn eyes off you. They roamed all over you, your strong jaw, your rounded shoulders, your wide torso, your strong legs and the thick package I knew lay underneath those jeans.
I snatched my eyes away from your crotch. Just as you lifted up your arms to pull me into a hug. Those devilish arms. It would have been so easy to just let you. It would have been so damn easy for me to close my eyes for just one second and pretend. For a moment I almost let you.
“Come here.”
I saw an image of you covering your mouth over mine. I could almost feel what they felt like − soft yet firm and your greedy tongue prying open my mouth, demanding entrance to me, your fingers twisting into my hair so hard, my back arched into you and my scalp and core tingling.
I shoved those thoughts away. Bad thoughts. Bad bad thoughts. Thoughts I should not be having. My brain was made wrong. Bad brain. Always thinking bad bad things. Always.
“Get the fuck away from me.” I stuck out my arm to keep you back. Your chest bumped into my palm, hard and warm like volcanic rock even through your t-shirt.
You laughed a devil’s laugh. “What kind of game is this, Aria?”
“I’m. Not. Aria.”
You jolted. “You’re not−”
“I’m Salem.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Salem.” My name on your siren’s lips was a curse, your face falling into a mask of horror. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
I watched your Adam’s apple dip and bob in your tanned neck as you tried to swallow.
Why are you here with her? I wanted to ask. But I sensed her coming. I couldn’t let her see you and me together. It would be a bad bad thing. She would know.
She would know.
And it would fuck everything up.
“We never met. Come back in ten minutes like you only just arrived.” I slammed the door in your face.
Thursday, 19 November
You were so easy to follow. You made it so easy. Or perhaps you meant it to be that way.
Your wide back disappeared around the dirty brick wall. I felt a strange anxiousness, a sense of loss at the thought of losing you, so I hurried.
I shouldn’t have been worried. You were there waiting for me around the corner.
You shoved me up against the wall in a sweet crush, pieces of rough brick marking my back. You leaned into me, so close I could barely breathe, so close I could see the flecks of lighter blue in your sapphire irises. My body broke out into tingles and burned as you breathed onto me. “Nice to see you again, Salem.”
“Wish I could say the same for you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you following me?”
“I wasn’t. I was just around.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been trailing me since I left my apartment.”
You knew I’d been following you. I should have known. You’re smart. Too smart. So I have to be smarter.
“Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied through gritted teeth as I tried not to inhale your familiar scent, that scent that made my stupid knees wobble.
Your fingers dug into my shoulder and side like pins into a butterfly. I had to escape you but I couldn’t move. “You told her I was cheating on her. You tried to get her to leave with you just so we’d be forced to break up.”
“Isn’t it still cheating if you’re with someone and you really want to be with someone else?”
You flinched. I could see all those memories flash across your face, all those sharp, sticky memories. “I love−”
“You love a ghost. You’re going to hurt her when she finds out.”
Your face screwed up and you pressed against me as if to emphasise your words. “I’d never hurt her. Never.”
“You really think you’ll be able to stop yourself?”
“I will. I am.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” Just to prove it to you I pressed my hips into yours and I felt you stiffen. I leaned in real close.
Your whole body tensed, your face screwing up as if it was an effort to keep from moving, or perhaps it was an effort to remain still. “What are you doing?”
“Do you remember?” I whispered. “Do you remember how this feels, Clay?” I licked a soft line with my tongue against the seam of your lips until they opened with a groan, a low rumbling noise which I sucked into my body with glee.
“Stop it.” But that’s not what your body was saying. Your fingers clawed into me and your body grew harder as I rolled my hips against you with more urgency. The memory came back with ease now. My hips and yours. Your lips on mine.
I shoved it away.
“You’re bad,” I spat out, gritting my teeth so hard I could feel the tension shooting into my brain like tendrils. “You’re going to hurt her just like you hurt−”
“That was an accident.” He cringed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t know…”
“Now you do. Leave us alone.”
“I can fix things. Give me a chance to fix it.”
“You can’t.”
“I can. I have a therapist who’s−”
“You really think some clueless shrink with all her cold academic credentials is going to help?” I shoved you back and you let me. I almost smiled at the relief the cold air between us gave me, and yet I wanted to cry at how my body missed yours. “Leave us alone or I will find a way to end you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s more than a threat. It’s a promise.”
Monday, 23 November
You won’t let it go. You won’t leave. It’s only a matter of time before you fuck up and hurt her.
It will destroy her.
I can’t let that happen.
Adrenaline flooded my body as my fingers gripped the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the tail of your Mustang up ahead on this stretch of long, lonely road.
I pressed my foot down and the car sped up until I was almost at your bumper. I pulled out around you as if I was going to overtake. For a moment I kept pace, glancing over, taking my eyes off the road ahead, until you looked over and our eyes met. I could see when you recognised me. I could see when the recognition turned to fear, when you realised what I was about to do.
Did you underestimate me, Clay Jagger? Did you underestimate the lengths that I would go to for her?
That was your mistake. It would be your last.
I yanked the wheel over, just as you hit the brakes. In that fateful moment everything slowed so that the micro-increments between the seconds, that p
ause between heartbeats, became the steady tick tick tick.
To my surprise, a cold dread flooded my body. What was I doing? Destroying my heart and hers? I tried to pull back.
But it was too late.
My car clipped the side of yours, the sick crumple of metal crackling through my ears like static. I was thrown aside in my seat, the belt catching around my ribs. You swerved off the lane and into the overgrown gutter.
I kept driving and my heart dropped into the bottomless pit that had become my stomach.
Tuesday, 24 November
You recognised me the instant I stepped into your hospital room and closed the door behind me. “Salem.” Your eyes narrowed and your hands clenched into fists in the sheets.
“You look like shit.” I stepped cautiously towards your bed, eyeing you over, trying to ignore the bothersome feelings of guilt threading their way through my body.
“Thanks to you.” You swung your legs over the edge of the hospital bed and stood, your gaze and your posture never wavering. “If you came here expecting an invalid to manipulate, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.”
Through your thin hospital gown I could see the outline of your thick, muscled body, that body you worked on every day to keep your demons at bay. Damn you and your flimsy gown. Damn you. I could almost see you as you stood naked before me for the first time. I shoved that thought away. Now was not the time to get sentimental.
“Stay away from us.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice. “I’m warning you.”
“Warning me?” You took a step towards me and the walls began to feel like they were closing in. “Like running me off the road was a warning?”
“I didn’t want to warn you. I wanted to kill you.” If I made you afraid of me then maybe I would stop shaking in my shoes like a pathetic little girl. “Don’t fuck with me, Clay.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What?”
“I don’t believe that you wanted to kill me.”
I did.
“You could have slammed straight into me, sending me out into a tree, instead you only clipped my car. You pulled back at the last minute, didn’t you?”
