by Hanna Peach
“Screw you.”
“If you wanted me to die then you wouldn’t have called emergency after you ran me off the road.”
I flinched. “I didn’t.”
“I called emergency as well, as soon as I was able to get a hold of my mobile. They told me my accident had already been called in. An anonymous caller. There was no one else on that road except us. I don’t care how hard you protest. I know you care about me.”
“Shut up. I do not.”
“You do. Maybe you even love me, too.”
You took another step closer and my head began to swim. “Stay back. Keep away from me.”
You wouldn’t take your eyes off me, those intense blue orbs framed by those dark lashes, boring into my very soul. You lunged for me and caught my arm before I could back away, pulling me in close so that your hot breath swirled around my forehead, reminding me of things I’d rather forget. “Let go of me.”
“Why are you fighting me?”
“Because of what happened that night. You remember what happened that night, don’t you?”
The pain and guilt etched into every one of your beautiful, hateful features. “How could I forget?”
“What you did…it was unforgivable.”
“I haven’t slept with her. I promise you, I won’t.” You raised a hand to my face and you brushed your thumb across my cheek. It was gentle. The gentlest touch I have ever felt in my life. And yet, it scared me more than any tight fist and scarred knuckles I have ever encountered, because the touch reared something in me I wasn’t sure I could control. I wanted to give in. I wanted to give up my promise to Aria, my promise to protect her, to always put her first.
“We shouldn’t fight,” you said. “Let’s find a way through this. Together.”
My skin broke out, my mouth parted, the air sucking right out of me. I felt lightheaded. Before I knew what I was doing I turned my head to brush my lips against your palm. “Clay,” I breathed.
Shit. What was I doing?
“I…I can’t stay away.” Your voice was equally as pained. “I’ve tried. Don’t you think I know it would be better for her…for you…if I stayed away?” Your arm wrapped around me to pull me closer and I let you. My stomach twisted with my betrayal. But my body flooded with pleasure as your fingers threaded through my hair. “Please,” your lips brushed against my earlobe, “come back to me, Olivia.”
Olivia.
That name shattered everything, sending the flutters of pleasure scattering like dried leaves. “Don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.” I shoved you away and stumbled back, clawing desperately for the door. “I’m warning you. Stay away. Or you’ll ruin everything.”
14
I dropped the journal. It clattered to the ground as pieces of this puzzle began to slam into place.
Salem was Olivia.
Salem was Clay’s ex-girlfriend.
That’s why she hated Clay. That’s why she was trying to get rid of him. To protect me.
His mother saw me and called me Olivia. She mistook me for Salem.
Why would they not tell me? Why would Salem keep this from me? Because she thought she was protecting me?
Why would Clay want to be with me?
Oh my God. The realisation seized me like a thick, calloused hand around my throat.
“I haven’t slept with her. I promise you, I won’t.”
This was why Clay refused to sleep with me. He was saving himself for Salem. For Olivia. “Come back to me, Olivia.”
Clay was using me to get to her, to make her jealous. I was a replacement for her. It was all for her. All of this was for her.
My body lashed with pain like I was being whipped, and I rocked back and forth as my legs trembled and I threatened to topple over. Why would he do this to me?
Why did they ever break up?
“What you did…it was unforgivable.”
Something happened. Something happened that night, something terrible…because of Clay’s schizophrenia? Did he relapse? Freak out? What happened? Did he hurt someone? Did he hurt…her? Did he hurt Salem? Is that why she left him?
What do you really know about him?
She tried to warn me. My throat burned as I choked on my first sob.
No, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. I could see the way that Clay looked at me, the way he touched me.
Every time he looked at you, he was seeing Olivia. Every time he touched you, he was touching her.
Calm down, Aria, calm down. They’re just words. False words on lying pieces of paper. Salem said he was cheating on you but that was a lie. You already know she’s trying to get you away from him. What if this is just another one of her schemes? You think it’s a coincidence that she left her diary out for you to find? You know Clay. He wouldn’t cheat on you. Salem wrote these lies and left it out here for you to find. She’s growing unstable. She wants to break you and Clay up.
Because Clay’s no good for you. He’s hiding things, you know he is. He even told you himself. He lied about his car accident. He lied about Salem being in the hospital. What else is he lying about?
Shut up. Shut up stop talking crazy you sound like Salem. It’s not true. It’s not true.
Maybe.
Maybe. Can you put your faith in maybes?
No. I need to know the truth. The truth. Even if it kills me.
My phone. Where’s my phone?
In my bag. Where’s my bag?
In the kitchen.
My hands trembled as I rummaged through my bag on my kitchen counter, my fingers feeling clumsy and thick. Fuck it. I turned my bag upside down and the contents bounced across the smooth countertop. I snatched up my phone. I hit the call symbol and it came up with the last number I dialled.
Clay.
My heart cracked.
Just be calm. Don’t accuse him, just ask him. This could just be another one of Salem’s stunts to try and break you two up. I swallowed down a thick knot and forced myself to keep calm as the ring tone sounded in my ear.
It clicked over to his voice message. “Clay,” I said, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. “You need to call me. As soon as you get this. Call me.” And I hung up.
Where was he?
There were only two places he could be. His apartment or his mother’s.
I’d start at his apartment. This was a conversation we needed to have face to face anyway. I needed to look into his eyes when he answered all the questions I had for him.
I grabbed my bag to throw everything back in there when I heard something clinking in the bottom. Something was caught in the small hole I had in the lining. I frowned as my fingers closed over it and pulled it out.
It was Salem’s house keys. Identical to mine. I must have picked up her keys by mistake. When did I do that?
Or Salem put them in your bag. But why would she do that? Unless this was her way of telling you she was watching you.
I know where you’ve been. I saw you. I shuddered as the hairs on my neck rose.
My car keys just appearing.
Salem’s keys suddenly in my bag.
Her journal suddenly on her pillow.
But no sign of her. Except a flash of the back of her hair between hospital patients.
If she was trying to scare me, she was doing a damn fine job.
15
My fingers were shaking when I pressed the buzzer to Clay’s apartment, anger making me hold the buzzer down longer than I probably needed to. I yanked my finger off the button and took a deep calming breath as I stared at the speaker, willing it to come to life.
Nothing. He wasn’t at home.
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. I could see you as you stood naked before me for the first time.
What if he was with Salem? What if he was with her right now? Upstairs.
Together.
What
if that open box of condoms was for her?
“I haven’t slept with her. I promise you, I won’t.”
My breath came out in short bursts as my lungs clamped together. What if Salem was trying to get me to break up with Clay so she could have him back? What if I was just some pawn caught up in their lovers’ tiff?
I lifted up my eyes to where I knew his balcony was. Nobody was on it. I needed to get up there.
Clay’s key. I still had Clay’s spare key from when I brought him his toiletries at the hospital. I rummaged through my bag and found them before letting myself into the lobby.
My heart pounded at an increasing pace as I neared Clay’s apartment door. Was I really doing this?
I couldn’t hear anything through the door. No laughter, no moans, no talking.
That didn’t mean they weren’t in there.
As quietly as I could I slipped the key into the lock, bit by bit before turning it. The lock opened with a loud click, making me flinch. I twisted the handle, pushed open the door and stuck my head in. The kitchen and living room were both empty. The TV was off. So was the radio.
I slipped inside and shut the door behind me before any of the neighbours could spot me. The state of the place hit me. There were unwashed dishes in his sink, dishes on the counter, papers scattered across his dining room table and some fallen on the floor.
I crept as quietly as I could to his bedroom but it, too, was empty, just clothes strewn about the room. My eye fell upon the drawer he had given me.
My drawer. How ridiculous was I being? Of course Clay loved me. He had given me a drawer and clothes…
The cherry print pyjamas. They weren’t brand new. They had been Olivia’s. Of course they fit me. Salem and I were the same size.
I shook my head, fighting back an angry sob, as I stormed over to his side of the bed. There must be something here in his things that would prove his lies. Or exonerate him. I yanked open the top drawer a little too hard, causing the drawers to shake. Inside were cords, coins, receipts…
But there was a piece of paper underneath everything. I moved everything aside and picked it up. It was a familiar drawing. A comic.
It was the Aria comic, exactly like the partly drawn one I spotted on his table the other day, Adventures of Aria written across the top in bright yellow font.
My eyes found the date in the corner.
21 July.
Five months ago.
But Clay hadn’t met me until early August. How could he have drawn this comic based on me in July?
What the fuck?
“Hello, sister dear.” A voice came from behind me.
I leapt to my feet, my heart cramming into my throat. Salem stood at the door to Clay’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. Was she following me? Or…had she been watching Clay’s place?
“How did you get in?”
She gave me an amused look that managed to look not amused at all. “Through the front door.”
“But…I locked it.” Didn’t I? I thought I did. I mustn’t have. Or maybe Clay gave her a key.
“When were you going to tell me about this?” Salem held up a small rectangular piece of card.
Shit. It was the card that Flick gave me. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Don’t lie to me. I found it in your bag.”
“You went through my things.” When had she done that?
“And you’re telling me you didn’t go through my things?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. How did she know that I read her journal?
She shook her head, flicking the card to the floor. “You were going to have me locked up.”
“No.”
“After everything I’ve done for you.”
“I was just worried about you. I was just thinking about whether it’d be good for you. I hadn’t decided to use it.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“You tried to run Clay off the goddamn road. You could have killed him.”
“I’m not fucking crazy,” she screamed as she pushed off the doorframe and walked into the room. That’s when I saw the flash of metal in her hand that had been hidden behind her back until now. She was holding a gun, a glinting metal contraption of death.
“Salem, what are you doing with a gun?”
“Did you ever stop to think that perhaps it’s you who is crazy?” She strode farther into the room, her gun punching the air to punctuate her sentences. “That you’re the one who needs help?”
I stumbled back towards the head of the bed.
She’s dangerous.
She’s not dangerous, she’s your sister.
Doesn’t mean she’s stable. She’s holding a fucking gun.
I glanced over to the ensuite door, slightly ajar. It was my only other way out. But there was no way I was getting past her. Not when she had a gun in her hand.
She’d never shoot me.
Would you bet your life on that?
“Hellingly Country Hospital − Psychiatric Facility. Who put this into your head?” She pointed the gun at me as if it were her finger. My throat closed up at sight of the winking black eye of the barrel now being turned on me. “Clay? Or that nosy boss of yours, Flick? What kind of name is Flick anyway?”
If I told her, would she try and hurt Flick too? “No one put it in my head.”
“Liar.”
“I’m the liar?” Anger trickled out through the fear. “You lied to me. I found your journal. You and Clay had a relationship before me. I know you’re Olivia.”
“Olivia,” she spat out. “That name is cursed.”
“What happened that night? What happened to break you two up?”
“There are some things that should stay buried. Some secrets that should never come out in the open. They can’t.” Her face softened. “Let’s just forget about it. We can just leave. You and me, Aria.”
“I won’t forget about it. I need to know the truth.”
“The truth… You don’t want the truth.”
“I do.”
“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”
But I did.
I wanted the truth.
The truth.
Even if it killed me.
Did I? Did I?
I gripped at my hair, shaking my head, trying to dislodge all these jumbled thoughts, trying to let these puzzle pieces settle in where they belonged. But they just rattled away.
Salem snarled. “Goddamn it, I knew I should have gotten rid of him sooner.” She scratched her head with the barrel of her gun. “Think, Salem, think.”
She wanted Clay.
She wanted Clay dead.
What the hell was the truth?
I jumped when my phone rang in my bag, buzzing against my leg through the leather. There was only one person who could be calling.
Salem’s eyes snapped to the bag. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Your phone. Give it to me.”
“W-Why?”
“I’m the one with the gun. Give me your phone.”
I slowly pulled it from my bag and handed her the phone, praying that he’d just hang up. She snatched it from my hand and answered it, her eyes boring into mine.
“Clay Jagger,” she said into my phone. My heart almost stopped. “No, it’s not Aria. Yes, that’s right.” I flinched towards her, desperate to grab the phone off her but I could barely move. The gun she thrust at me, keeping me back, kept me feeling like I was a mere ghost with no power to affect anything.
“Meet me at the place we first met. You do remember where we first met, don’t you, Clay, darling?” An unnerving smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “You took Aria there when you first told her you loved her. Good. Twenty minutes. Tick tock.”
Salem hung up the phone.
Her words remained ringing in my ears. You took Aria there when you first told her you loved her. “How did you know? I never told you about that.” The realisation dawned on me
. “You…you were following me. No…you were following him.”
She didn’t answer as she approached. She grabbed me by the arm and spun me towards the door, shoving the gun into my back. “Move.”
She forced me out of Clay’s apartment and down the hallway to the stairs. I prayed with every shaking step that someone would appear so I could alert them to get help. My sister needed help, serious help. She was unstable. Delusional. But nobody was around. Why was nobody around?
When we got to the lobby she led me to my car, shoving me into the driver’s seat before she got into the passenger’s side.
“Drive,” she said, the black eye of the barrel still pointed straight at me.
“What are you doing?” My voice trembled as it escaped out between my teeth. For the first time in my life I was terrified of her. It was like I didn’t know her.
“We’re going to end this. Once and for all.”
16
We were the first ones to arrive at Mirage Gorge.
Salem walked behind me as I trudged a solemn march from the car to the bridge. Clogging my nose was the smell of wet earth and rotting leaves, and the moisture from the waterfall felt like cobwebs on my skin. All sunlight was hidden behind thick sooty clouds, making the misty bridge across the gorge seem like a walkway across to some kind of mystical hell.
“That’s far enough.”
I stopped in the centre of the bridge and turned slowly around to face Salem. Her features were firm with determination and finality. She looked so normal for someone so insane. She eyed the side of the bridge and ran a finger tenderly across the railing. Her voice sounded faraway, “It all started here.”
Oh my God.
She was the angel that Clay had seen on this bridge. It hadn’t been a hallucination. She had been the one to save Clay’s life.
And now she would be the one to take it.
I bit my bottom lip with my teeth and tasted blood. “You don’t have to do this.”
She lifted her stormy eyes to me. They no longer glistened with anger but were muted and matte, painted with a deep sadness that caused a knot to rise in my throat. “Yes, I do.”
I prayed that Clay wouldn’t come. I prayed that he would figure out that this was a trap and call the police. I prayed for any number of things. For the moment that Clay stepped onto this bridge, he was as good as dead.
