by W. A. R.
“There you are…” the soft voice began, her voice slightly scolding, slightly excited before trailing down an octave with concern as they noticed him fall. “Miles? Are you alright?”
He trailed his eyes up the length of her. She wore black wedged heels, a long black dress that had a slit right up her thigh, exposing the creamy skin of her leg. The dress had a modest neckline, no sleeves, and he could see that her arms were long, her hands settling on her hips as she stared down at him. Her chin was jutted out in defiance, and her blue eyes pierced him with doubt and alarm. Her blonde hair cascaded across her shoulders and down her back. He was knocked breathless at the sight of her. He knew her.
He quickly stood, unsure of how to act, what to say. “Er…yes…I’m fine. Am I supposed to be somewhere?” he asked politely, dusting his hands off on his shirt. The corners of her mouth slowly lifted and she smiled warmly at him and…blushed? His heart beat a little faster despite his reservations.
“Well, yes. This party is for you.” She told him and almost instantly music began playing in the background. He couldn’t make out the words, or even the melody, but he knew that it was there. She glanced at him curiously, frowning slightly, her smile gone. “Were you trying to hide? We can leave. We can always leave. No one here will know the difference.”
He instantly regretted his actions and jumped to defend himself, to keep her from disappointment. “No, no…I was just…I was…” he began trying desperately to explain. “I’m not sure what’s going on. I don’t know…I’m not sure who you are…”
Her face dropped and she looked saddened. “You don’t remember me? Anything that happened?”
He was curious, and yet at the same time he wanted to touch her and feel her under his fingertips. “What do you mean? What happened?” he asked her and she studied him, her eyes scrutinizing him. She hesitated before speaking.
“You owe me a dance.” She told him gently, changing the subject. Her smile suddenly returned, although this time it was knowing and sure, a little mischievous. He couldn’t resist smiling back at her.
“I get the feeling I owe you many things…” he muttered under his breath but she had heard him. Her smile flowed effortlessly into laughter. His heart skipped a beat at the sound and he knew then that he loved her. He continued to stare at her, unsure of how he knew that he knew her…knew that he loved her, and yet he didn’t know who she was; he didn’t even know her name.
“As a matter of fact, you do…but tonight I am only holding you accountable for the dance.” She told him and before he realized what he was doing, he approached her. He wanted to feel her, taste her…
As soon as he took that first fateful step, the room began spinning, and he became dizzy. He kept his footing until it stopped. He looked around at his surroundings, seeing nothing but darkness and some kind of window. He stepped slowly up to it, curiosity getting the best of him. It overlooked dimly lit room. He turned in a complete circle, seeing nothing but darkness around him aside from the window. He turned back to the window, his confusion irritating him. He clenched his fist, ready to break it whenever the view panned to a pair of people seated on the floor against the wall. He froze, watching as the woman stared at the man to her left. She was no longer in the dress and instead she donned fitted jeans, boots, a t-shirt.
“Don’t do this to me.” she replied finally, her voice tender and broken, even as she tried to hide it. He continued to stare at the ceiling, and his heart pounded so hard against his chest it was painful.
Miles gasped in surprise as the man to her left came into focus and he realized himself. It was a memory, he could feel it. It was something that happened in his past…and so he pressed silently against the window watching the scene before him. The glass was cool to his touch, and he yearned to reach through it. He watched as the man on the other side of the window looked like he was in obvious discomfort, pain at her question. Miles grew angry. What was she talking about? Couldn’t he see how hurt she was? She wanted him to take it away…it was written all over her face and yet he just sat there, staring at the ceiling and debating on what to say to best avoid the conversation.
“Don’t do what?” He heard himself ask and though she was hurt, he saw a flicker of irritation hit her features. He was halted, even his very breath caught in his lungs at the look in her eyes.
“With everything else going on, I don’t need you playing games with me.” Ouch. Her words hurt, as if he had been punched in the gut. Miles watched from the window, ready to simply burst through and teach himself some manners.
“Do you really feel that way? Do you think I would actually do that to you, to hurt you?” How had he let this conversation get so deep? He asked himself, but then again, he reasoned it was bound to happen eventually.
“Yes.” She retorted and he grimaced, both the man in the room and the man against the window looking in.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” He told her honestly. He wasn’t sure what to tell her, and the Miles behind the window felt the pain in his chest at his statement. He knew how honest those words were to him because he understood then that the truth was, he was just as satisfied with her being right beside him. That was enough to ease his battered soul. He didn’t need anything more. But why was his heart so beaten? Had he lost someone close to him? “I thought you just needed a friend.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap, turning from him. Miles trailed his fingers down the window, hurting for the both of them. “I’d like to think you are my friend.” She told him and he again felt remorse at his words and actions.
“Okay.” He said uneasily and she sighed. “Just tell me what you want me to tell you, Amber.” He said softly.
Amber! He thought excitedly, the name bringing an onslaught of emotions crashing through him. He doubled over in pain as he attempted to reign in the overwhelming feelings of peace and comfort, and even…heartache? It had gone away as quickly as it had left, the feelings that came to him at her name, and yet he was left full, satisfied. Quickly, he turned back to the window, desperate to find out what he could about the woman that had so much control over him.
She turned to him, seeing only his side profile as he turned again to stare up at the ceiling. Suddenly she shifted on her feet and began pulling on her boots. After a moment she stood, adjusting her shirt hem.
“You’re right. We shouldn’t talk about this stuff. Besides, I’m feeling a lot better now and the perimeter needs to be checked. Thank you for talking to me.” She told him gently and even though he had refused to discuss what was happening between them, the thought of her leaving it behind angered him.
Miles began banging on the window to himself, furiously, begging him to stop her, to do something. He couldn’t let her go…he simply couldn’t. And yet, he stopped banging on the window whenever he noticed no sounds coming from hitting the glass. Nothing.
“So, I am just that dispensable to you? You are going to walk away in the middle of our conversation?” he asked her, rising to his own feet. She refused to look at him. That act alone nearly cut him to shreds. It only served to fuel his anger at himself. Miles grimaced in disgust at himself, his fists clenching against the window. He despised himself and his own actions. She leaned forward and grabbed her jacket from the floor, shrugging it on.
“Miles, what is that supposed to mean? You’ve done your job, what you were sent in here to do, so what does the rest of it matter?” she asked him and he stared after her in confusion. Glancing briefly at his reaction she sighed. “I heard what mom asked you.” She answered his unspoken question.
“I would have come in here anyways.” He tried defending his actions. And he would have…he knew that, and Miles glanced through the glass at her, hoping she understood that. He hoped she understood that he would do anything for her. She feebly shook her head, shoving her knife into its holster.
“Can we drop this please?” she asked softly, grabbing her gun next. It hurt much more than it should have. She d
idn’t want to talk to him, and yet he couldn’t blame her. He stepped towards her, refusing to let her go. He knew he couldn’t answer why he was so hell-bent on making her stay; maybe it had to do with them being alone, letting the Miles in the window get a glimpse of her, of their dynamic…then again, maybe it was because he was so worried that if he let her walk through that door and from him, she would never come back.
“No. I was wrong. We need to talk about this.” He said and she again shook her head. Dammit! Miles thought to himself as he watched everything he did fail.
“I don’t want to anymore.” She admitted and he reached forward, catching her shoulder and turning her to face him.
“Why not?” he asked and she turned her fiery eyes to his. He could tell she was hurt beyond words and he knew it was his fault. He was instantly slashed to shreds.
“Because I am that ‘dispensable’ to you.” She said bitterly. “You have run and avoided me for over a week now and so I am simply saving you the trouble.” He let his arm fall from her shoulder and shock befell his face. His heart ached for her as she turned back, checking the chamber of her gun to ensure that it was loaded.
“You really feel that way?” he asked of her and she sighed, shrugging. He had made her feel that way? The woman he cared so deeply for? His hands slid from the window and hung limply at his sides. He was disappointed in himself. Maybe he should just let her go…
“Look, it doesn’t matter; really, it doesn’t.” she replied, shoving the gun into the waistband of her jeans. She was going to leave, he knew it. She was going to leave and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
“Yes, it does.” He told her softly, his blood running cold. She turned to him, ready to check the perimeter. His heart pounded against his ribs, so much so that it hurt.
“Miles, just stop.” She said firmly, capturing his stare. He stood frozen under the scrutiny and he was entranced by her ice blue orbs; lost and left to wonder.
“You want to know why I have avoided you?” he asked, the words tumbling from his mouth without his mind filtering them. Miles quickly jumped against the window, ready to hear his own answer.
She shrugged. “I don’t care anymore, Miles.”
“I did it to protect you.” He blurted out and she paused, turning to face him, even though her eyes remained on the floor around their feet. He mentally begged for her to bring her eyes to his.
“I don’t need protecting.” She finally turned her eyes up and looked at him saddened yet determined and he could feel every bit of pain and disappointment he had caused her. Her look held him hostage, sending every nerve ending on edge.
He couldn’t take it anymore; the intensity was too much and in an instant he was bringing his mouth to hers so easily that he wondered if he moved first or if she did. Her lips were under his own, moving in tandem with his and he craved the taste of her. He remembered it all then, and as the scene played out before him, he brought his fingers to his lips, the feeling still there, the taste of her lingering on his mouth. He was there, and his mind raced with every vivid detail of her…of her actions, of his…
She didn’t fight back; instead, she complied to his every move, every touch. And still, the gentleness of it wasn’t enough. He brought his hands to cup her face, pulling her closer, his tongue sliding across her lips begging for entrance. She readily obliged and his tongue pushed past her velvet lips, exploring the taste of her, the heat, the desire. He turned just so, pressing her lower back against the dresser and she mewled at the action. She pulled at his hair, urging his body closer and he felt fire run through his veins. The rest of the world was drowned out there was only her and him in that moment. He had never known a feeling such as the excitement and feeling of wholeness as he did then with her, and it drove him mad. He couldn’t get enough of it, enough of her. He was drunk of the feel of her body pressed against his own, the taste of her. And too suddenly, he ripped his mouth from hers, heat evident in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it if he tried. Her eyes reflected his desire, but they also held confusion and sadness in their depths. He stared at her, and the emotions that ran through his very being were too much to contain.
“I avoided you because I needed to emotionally detach myself from you. With everything happening, I thought that removing myself was what would keep you safe.” He was breathless, his face flushed with a fevered desire for the woman in front of him, in his arms. “But the truth is that I was wrong and I can’t stay away from you. Amber…” he paused, swallowing his emotions back in fear of her reaction to his next words. “I’m in love with you.”
I’m in love with you…
I’m in love with you…
Fear. It was what he was feeling then, as the room went black and the window disappeared. It was only dark for a brief moment before light came back to him. He glanced around, his heart pounding in his ears and he sighed in relief when he realized that he was back in the room. He was scared…nothing made sense. He didn’t want to move, not even an inch in fear of disrupting the scene before him as he had done before. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing and he lifted his eyes, searching for her, for his saving grace, and what he saw made his skin crawl.
Blood. Everywhere in the room there was blood. Bodies lay on the floor…a young boy…and young girl…two men and a woman. He felt he should recognize them all and yet, nothing came to him except a deep, heart wrenching sadness. He felt lost and unsure. He wondered where they had come from…they hadn’t been there just seconds before. He felt like hyperventilating…Who were these people to him? Why did it hurt so damn much? Tears sprang to his eyes and spilled over. It burned…the excruciating pain of seeing these people…
“They were my family…” her soft voice interrupted his desperate pleas for understanding, for sanity, and he jerked his head towards the open doors of the balcony. She stood there against the wind in her black dress. She was so beautiful and so sad. She stared at the bodies on the ground, not daring to look at him. “Kyle…Cassie…my two children. Brian, my brother and my best friend Shelly…and finally George…my friend…my brother…” she paused, turning her icy gaze to him. He stood locked in place under her stare, the intensity of it alarming him. The names reached into him, her voice calling to him like a siren. He felt so much loss for the people lying dead on the floor that it was crippling. “They were your family too, you know.” She confessed to him and he felt the brutal punch of hysteria hit him once more. Again, she paused before speaking, as if giving him time to consider everything, but what was there to consider? He was confused, lost…he had no idea what was going on or who these people were…all he knew was that everything that had happened to him, to them, had shaken him down to his very core. “Do you remember everything yet?” she asked of him and he turned his cold brown eyes away from her.
“No.” he stated plainly and she attempted to reach forward, her gentle fingers wanting to touch him and he would have gladly let her, but she didn’t. She looked past him at the door and stopped, worry creasing her features.
“Why are you showing me all of this?” he asked of her bitingly, tears snaking their way across his face. He hoped to get a reaction from her…anything. She looked offended by his words, his accusation, and she twisted her fingers together at her waist. She had gone silent, her eyes lowered into submissiveness. “Answer me!” he shouted, the timbre in his voice causing her to flinch. He wanted to rush to her, to hold her and assure her…but he couldn’t. His feet were locked in place in the room surrounded by bloody corpses of her family…their family.
“She isn’t.” a deep rumble of a voice sounded from behind him. His blood ran cold. He recognized that voice, but from where? He slowly turned to face the man, feeling such immense loss and confusion, and even more so, betrayal, that it was difficult to even move. “I am.” Miles drew in a sharp breath at the sight. At the doorway stood a young man, almost identical to Miles at a younger age. He wore a black tuxedo, and his eyes were glazed over with wicked ecstasy.
The man chuckled and lowered his gaze to the bodies littering the floor before turning back to him. Miles was locked in place by his stare. “You don’t recognize me? At all?”
Miles tried desperately to pinpoint him and yet, he couldn’t. All he could seem to notice was their striking resemblance to one another. “No,” Miles began, shaking his head. “I don’t.” he told the man, hoping against hope that he would leave.
The man sighed in amusement as Amber spoke behind him. “He’s your son; Michael.” She told Miles, her voice carrying gently on the wind. Miles glanced over his shoulder at her and shook his head.
“No, I don’t have a son.” He told her roughly, almost pleadingly, as if begging her to help him with his denial. The words felt like paint tumbling from his mouth; the taste bitter and making him blanch.
“Oh, yes you do…” the man said, stepping forward casually, his feet expertly avoiding the bodies on the floor. His eyes never left Miles. “And I am him.” Miles felt frightened and angry, his breathing becoming rigid and painful.
Miles stepped back slowly towards Amber, his hands reaching behind him, hoping to find her safe. The man continued advancing. “What is going on here? Why can’t I remember anything?” Miles demanded before feeling the soft skin of Amber’s fingers fill the empty space in his palm.
The pain burned through him at her touch, lighting every nerve on fire. He screamed against the sting of it and fell to his knees amidst the gore plastered on the walls and the carpet and squeezed his eyes shut tightly…
They grew up together…
He was married…had a son…
