by Gabriel Love
When I finally regain some semblance of control, I continue, my voice wavers a tiny bit. “but my boyfriend threatened to hurt their kids, so they gave me to him.”
Fury lights in his eyes, but I shake my head. “I get it. We’re hardwired to protect our offspring and those we love. I don’t hold any grudges.” But I get the feeling that Bannish does. It’s odd to me. Of everyone I’d expect to be upset about the betrayal, he’s probably the last.
“When we got into the hallway, I broke free and raced away.” I can’t help but smile at the look of admiration and pride in his eyes. “Did you think I’d lie down and let him do whatever he wanted?” I ask. The moment the teasing words cross my lips I feel weird.
I’m joking around with the guy who murdered my sister like I would have in the old days. The shock in his face echoes how I feel. But I keep talking, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness.
“I ran down the whole ten flights of stairs to the lobby, but he caught me at the last second.” Very real terror bolts through me, as if I’m reliving the moment. I remember his hand over my mouth and the absolute invasion of my most basic human rights. My voice changed to wobbly version of my usual sound and I hate how weak I sound.
“And I gave in. He kissed me and I responded. But he thought I was faking. And I guess I was. I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I was willing to do almost anything to keep from being hurt.” Tears sting in my eyes and I jolt as Bannish squeezes my hands. Our fingers lace as the fear and pain seeps into my very words.
“And he...” I can hardly say anything. It feels like my throat is being squeezed tightly. “I... I just went limp in his arms. So he turned me around to hold me better and I just... acted.” As if I’m in the moment, pain explodes in the back of my head and I hear the crunch of his nose.
“I smashed the back of my head into his nose. I think I broke it.” Misery ends my whisper and I look up into Bannish’s eyes and see a new found respect.
“And I ran into the lobby. I tried to tell the girl what he’d done, but he came out and shouted that I attacked him.”
I hear Bannish’s snort and nod. “Yeah, I thought it was dumb, but the girl bought it because I had no obvious signs of having been the victim. And he used it against me.” I pause, remembering the threat in Phillip’s eyes.
“I knew he’d press charges if I said anything. So I waited until the girl called an ambulance for him and ran up to my apartment, packed a bag and came here.” I glance into Bannish’s eyes and see he still doesn’t understand.
I motion to the cells. “I’m right next to you on the other side of a concrete wall.” Panic fills his expression and I’m quick to point out it was my choice. “I told Parker that it would help me with my thesis and that I could possibly get him more funding.” I see no need to warn him that his confession was used to sweeten the pot.
He visibly relaxes and I go back to my first thought. “I don’t know how you’ve managed not to go crazy all this time. I think it’s been maybe a day at most for me and my mind is already playing tricks on me.” I lower my voice to a near whisper. “I can’t escape memories. Some happy, some sad, they all feel like they’re clawing me down and forcing me to relive them.”
Bannish nods and shock fills me. It’s the first actual communication. I mean, his body language has said volumes, as did his action of placing his hands over mine in a gesture of friendship and support.
But this is an actual response. It’s as good as a yes, it’s positive proof that he’s both agreeing with me and knows what I’m saying.
I smile. “Thank you for listening to me. I figure that you’re not going to tell anyone, so my secrets are safe with you.”
Sadness fills his features and I find myself wondering why. So I ask. “Why does that make you sad?”
Of course, he doesn’t respond, but at least I made my interest known. I want him to know I want to hear from him. I want to hear him speak his mind, spill the truth, and free himself from this prison of silence he’s in.
For both our sakes.
“Hour’s up,” A guard says behind us and I rise. I’m led away as is Bannish. At the door I hesitate and look over at him. His eyes lock on mine as we’re both shoved into our cells and our line of sight is severed.
When the door closes I feel more alone than ever and the tears come and quickly engulf me.
Parker comes to visit me and I beg him to tell me what day it is, how long I’ve been in here and he tells me it’s the second morning. Shock rolls through me. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours? How is that even possible? It feels like it’s been weeks!
“You ready to cave yet?” He asks and I shake my head. No way. Especially now that he’s so sure he’s broken me. When the little voice inside my head screams, No! What are you doing? I remind myself this project is bigger than I am.
And I can’t give Parker the satisfaction of knowing I’m slowly dying in here.
I pass the time with steps. With memories. With the fresh recollection of Bannish’s hands on mine. It’s a shock to realize that after less than a day of zero physical contact I’m desperate to feel it again.
And my pity for him grows.
If one day has undone me, what must four years have felt like?
Even as I hate him, I feel bad for him. He’s lived four years in this misery, waiting for death. Hell, probably praying every second for death.
When my time with Mr. Kingston rolls around, I ignore him. Nothing he says is of any interest to me. His worry is palatable, it reeks in his every word. But I have no fucks to give about his assessment of my mental state.
I’m not hurting myself. He’s got nothing to worry about.
“Remember, we can’t treat ourselves,” He says gently and I glance at him, my interest piqued. It’s as if he read my mind. Either he’s more preceptive than I thought or it was a lucky coincidence. Not that I really believe in coincidences.
Only after he leaves do I breathe easy. Still, his troubling words echo round and round in my mind.
He’s right. We can’t treat ourselves, our loved ones, or even our enemies. Because when we’re that close, we’re biased. And when you’re biased, you make mistakes. Mistakes can cost people their lives.
It’s a sobering thought. A hitch in my plans. It’s a glaring error on my part and I mentally kick myself for making such an egregious mistake. How could I overlook something so crucial? Internally browbeating myself for being such a noob, I jolt in surprise when the door opens.
“Let’s go.” It’s the guard. I follow blindly and wait in the meeting room for Bannish. When he’s led in, he can’t seem to take his eyes off me. And I wonder what’s going through his thoughts.
He takes the spot across from me and I open my mouth to speak, but words fail me. Instead, tears consume me. “It’s too much. I can’t do it. I’m not strong like you,” I whisper, embarrassed and furious at my breakdown.
Suddenly he’s next to me and his arms close around me. With my cheek against his chest I block out all else. All anger, resentment, all hatred.
Instead, we’re two people finding comfort in each other.
My arms slip around his shoulders and I cling to him, crying for myself, my sister, and him. My tears flow for all the souls lost in solitary, all the misery, the pain, the torture.
Two days have broken me.
He’s been here for four years waiting to die.
I will never understand the hell he’s been through.
Even my stint here was tainted by the knowledge I can walk anytime. That I’m not going to be put to death any day. That I have freedoms that he’s been denied for four years.
I thought this would help me, but all it’s done is make me realize the true magnitude will never be personal knowledge for me.
And worse, I feel like I’m making a mockery of his pain by pretending we’re in the same boat.
I’m kind of an ass.
His fingers begin stroking my hair and I feel all my anguish begi
nning to melt away.
Questions begin to crowd my mind. Why is he being kind to me? Why am I allowing him to touch me? How can I find comfort in the clutches of a killer? The killer of my sister, no less? And all my reasons to hate him come flooding back.
I fight them back. I’m desperate for the comfort he’s exuding.
Still, internally, the battle between head and heart rages on. He’s my own personal monster, yet the good pieces of our shattered past fit together perfectly. It’s a confusing sensation. It’s like I’m torn between the memory of him and the true person he is. Neither are good, but at least his evil is obvious now.
When our time is up Bannish is back on his side and we’re sitting in silence, our hands clasped. The guard has to drag me back to my room while I watch Bannish accept his fate while watching me with an expression that clearly offers strength.
When the door slams behind me, I drop onto the floor and let the tears come.
Somewhere buried deep in me, a strength rallies up and I rise. I’m not going to be destroyed so easily. I fought off Phillip. I refused to meet my fate. I refused to throw myself off ten stories because I was certain I’d make it though, that the future would hold something better.
Why should I feel any different now?
I have my freedom.
At least, I do as soon as I’m not stubborn enough to keep punishing myself.
Hours slip by and I begin to live for the daily meeting I spend with Bannish. The last meeting we were both silent. The only thing that transpired were his fingers linking with mine. Somehow, without words, I left feeling like more had been said than all the conversations I’ve ever had, combined.
Hours fade to days.
Days spent pacing. On day five, I began talking aloud to myself, then to Andrea. I’d speak to the ghost of her, the memories, and I’d relive my parts.
And at the one hour meeting, I sat opposite Bannish and spoke in a quiet tone. “She’s haunting me.”
His head had jerked up and his eyes locked on mine. I could sense fear and sorrow in him.
“It’s as if there’s something she wants me to know.” Why else would she so throughly occupy my every moment be it in my dreams or in my thoughts?
And I realize there’s something Bannish wants to say.
But he remains silent.
So I push. “Why did you kill her?” I whisper, staring him dead in the eyes. And he shakes his head in a clear denial.
“Why can’t you just admit it?” I ask, my voice pleading with him. “Do the right thing and take responsibility for the horrible things you did.”
Again, he shakes his head and I bring both my fists down hard on the table. Pain screams up my arms and I shout at him.
“I wish your mother had swallowed! Prick!” Wishing he’d never been born is a new thought, but my backed up emotions seem to be bouncing between extremes. I’m on my feet in a heartbeat and I glare at Bannish, whose eyes haven’t left me. But there’s no anger there. Only pity and worry.
And I hate him for it.
I call the guard to take me back to my cell, but at the last moment I look back at Bannish one more time.
“You’re a monster,” I whisper. “I knew it from the beginning, and I should have protected Andrea from you.”
His gaze locks on mine and ice chills me to the core. There’s a resolute strength there. A sense of self and calm, and absolutely not the expression I expect someone to have when being confronted by the twin sister of the girl he’d murdered.
Deep in the recesses of my mind I’d swear Andrea whispers, I love him, Ash.
They’re the very words she told me last time we talked. Her words had been a near whisper, and her voice was more broken than I’d ever heard it. And I’d known she wasn’t talking about Richard.
As the cell door closes behind me, she continues whispering deep in my thoughts.
Why would Michael kill Richard?
It’s a question I hadn’t thought to ask before. In mind’s eye Andrea tilts her head and gives me her come on, this problem is easy! look from the days she’d tutor me in math or Literature.
Why would the ex boyfriend who’d ended the relationship kill the new boyfriend? It wasn’t as if it was a secret that Andrea wanted Bannish back. And why kill her?
I’d assume that it’s Bannish.
He wouldn’t need to kill to keep a secret; he could grease palms.
He wouldn’t kill for revenge; revenge would mean at least one party had to live.
He wouldn’t kill for stature, money, power... none of those would come from this situation.
Stumped, I struggle for an answer.
And for the first time, a tiny seed of doubt sprouts in the very essence of my being.
As I pace back and forth in the tiny space of my cell, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I need to look over the trial and case to see if anything was missed. What was the motive? I can figure out what wasn’t, maybe I can figure it out with the process of elimination.
And I decide it’s time.
I pick up the phone and call Parker.
He answers on the third ring and I simply say, “I’m ready.” I don‘t want to explain. I don‘t want to let him in on my thoughts. He wouldn’t be pleased.
“I’ll be right down,” He replies and hangs up. When he arrives I find I’m almost afraid to leave my cell. I gingerly step into the hall and follow him, doing my best to pretend nothing is wrong.
“I’ll work on getting you funding right away.” I say softly.
He glances back at me. “And Bannish’s confession?”
“I’m still working him. I’d like to continue my daily meetings.” I say as he hands me my things. He nods. A flash of excitement bolts through my belly. He could have said no. I was fairly certain he‘d be agreeable, though.
“Need a place to crash?” he asks, glancing over at me, but I shake my head.
“I’ll be nearby,” I say. He doesn’t need to know where, or that staying with him isn’t even close to an option. I know how that would go. I’d stay a while and he’d begin to wear on me about how he was doing me a favor, and perhaps I could... do him a favor.
A shudder at the thought races through me and I close the door of his office to change back into my street clothes. When I leave the room, he’s waiting. So I turn to him to say a quick goodbye before making a quick beeline toward the door and ultimately, my car.
Once safe behind the wheel, I call dad. My eyes wander the barren lot and settle on the tall fences. Fences I’d never seen the other side of.
“How was it?” Dad asks the second he answers.
“Well hello to you too,” I tease, my mind reeling. He can’t possibly know. “How was what?” I ask as innocently as possible.
“Your time in solitary. Get a lot of good info for your thesis?” I can tell by his tone that he doesn’t believe the reason, but he doesn’t push it, thankfully.
“I did. And I’m wondering if you’d mind putting me up for a week in a hotel.” I hate asking, but it’s important.
Dad answers quickly, “Of course. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
I think about Philip. That’s much too complicated to explain to dad, though. “No, just really focused on this project.”
There’s a pause and I sense he’s searching for the right words to say. “I’m proud of you, honey. I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.”
Guilt edges in, but I fight it back. Nothing good would come of telling him. At best, he’d feel helpless. At worst, he’d do anything to protect me, and I don’t need to lose him for forever, too.
“I know. I love you, dad.”
“I love you too. Use your emergency card on whatever you need.”
We hang up after I thank him and I’m left with a multitude of emotions that each vie for supremacy. Sadness at the secret I’m keeping about Philip, worry about what I’m going to find when I search through the evidence of Bannish’s trial, and the feeling of being
so very alone in all of this.
Of course, the largest looming obstacle is that the evidence will give me every gory, painful detail of my sister’s final moments on this Earth.
But I can’t think about that now.
I drive carefully to the only place within a few miles of the prison. I check in and call an old friend to cash in a favor.
“Hello?” Brian sounds confused when he answers my call.
“Hey, I know it’s been a long time.” I have to talk fast or I’ll lose my nerve. “I’ve been busy with school. Remember that time--”
“What do you need?” He asks, his tone decidedly panicked.
I wince. “Sorry, I should have just asked. I need your help.”
And his tone grows kinder. “I was a different person then.”
I can echo that. “I was too. I’ve been focused on a double major since...” I can’t say it. Since Andrea died.
But I don’t need to. The pity in Brian’s voice tells me he knows exactly what I would have said. “How can I help?”
“Can you get me the evidence of the Bannish trial? I mean, everything?” I hold my breath.
Brian says nothing for a few moments and I desperately think of an excuse to fill the void of silence with.
“I--”
“I can do it. Where do you want to meet?” He sounds hurried and I tell him to meet me in the nearby fast food joint. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
Shocked, I ask, “So quickly?”
He hesitates a moment before flooring me with his words. “I expected you to ask years ago.”
Before I can formulate a question, the line goes dead in my ear. I lower the phone and stare at it. Why did he think I’d ask years ago? Does he know something I missed? That tiny pit of doubt in my soul grows just a tiny bit.
I pull into the fast food place early and look around for Brian. When I see him, I almost don’t recognize him. The years have changed his appearance.
Age weighs heavily on his face and deep grooves crisscross his forehead. Under his eyes are sagging dark bags that make him look like he hasn’t slept in four years, or like he tangled with the business end of a drunk at one of our old hangouts.
