by Lya Lively
“I think I’m changing the channel,” I said grabbing the remote from beside me and flipping through the programs.
“About Hayden, Noah,” he said exasperated.
I glanced at him, his eyes begging me for an answer. “Look, man, I don’t know. Hardly met her and I kind of hope it stays that way. I hate having people in my space.”
“Yeah, well she’s into music,” he pushed. “She plays guitar like,”
“Like Dad,” I finished. “And she dresses like she’s ready to leave like him too.”
“I meant, she plays like you. I was just thinking,” he said before hesitating, “maybe if you and Chloe are over-,”
“We’re not talking about this,” I snapped.
“Look-,”
“No,” I growled at him. “I just said no dammit, let it go.” We sat in silence for a little longer, both staring awkwardly at the television as I took a sip from my juice. “Don’t get her involved,” I added, struggling to keep my tone even.
He eyed me for a moment, “Why not? Because you think you’re some sort of lost cause?” His light eyebrows twitched out of disgust.
“Because it doesn’t matter what I think of myself; it’s about what I do, who I am.”
“And who are you, Noah?” He asked stubbornly turning to face me, “Please, little brother, enlighten me.”
“James,” I answered quietly, refusing to glance his way.
He turned back to the television, and out of my peripheral vision, I could see horror stealing his previously smug expression, “You’re nothing like Dad,” he muttered.
I said nothing.
“Noah, you are nothing like that sorry excuse for a man. You can’t let that be what defines you. He made his own mistakes, and then he left. But you,” He said, his emotions getting the better of him. “You are still here, and you are not him.” He paused, waiting for me to respond, to stop fighting.
“Yeah,” I lied. “You’re right; I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He turned back to the show. He knew I was lying, but his expression seemed to soften up a bit. “You’re not him,” He said one last time as if he was talking more to himself than me.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I lied again, maybe it’s best I keep my thoughts to myself.
EIGHT
Hayden
It seemed like centuries, though it had only been a mere two weeks since I’d promised Noah I’d stay out of his way if he stayed out of mine.
It was becoming agonizing to orbit around him in such a tiny space, and it felt like only a matter of time before we collided again. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my feelings that after only about six minutes of interaction, he’d decided he didn’t want me to be in any part of his life. But I was determined to stick to my plan and stay put. I wasn’t going to be bullied or scared away when there wasn’t anywhere left to run. This was my chance to start over.
I reached for my doorknob; I wanted desperately to escape the growingly claustrophobic confines of my room. But as my fingers gripped the knob and began to turn, I heard Cameron’s voice and lost my nerve. Instead, I leaned my cheek against the slightly cool wood and listened as he spoke to Noah.
“Look, man, I’m not trying to make you come, I just...” There was an uncomfortable pause filled with someone shuffling their feet. “I just really didn’t want to have to go this alone.” His voice sounded drained as if he hadn’t slept in days or perhaps it was just that hard for him to ask his brother for a favor.
Where are they going?
“Good. Don’t make me,” Noah replied to his brother with a hint of annoyance. “I’m not going. End of conversation.”
Cameron let out an audible sigh. “Jesus, Noah! When are you ever gonna learn to grow up,” Cameron yelled back at him before the door slammed, causing me to jump backward, my palm pressed against my chest as I struggled to calm my startled heart.
I waited a few moments, listening to the silence before I turned the knob and stepped out into the living room.
I found Noah standing in the living room, his back to me. “Hey,” I said as I stepped through my doorway.
“Not now, Hayden,” He sighed as he ran rough hands through his mess of hair and turned to face me. My eyes traveled down his bare chest before snapping back to his face. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his stormy eyes. “I just need space to think right now.” There was no anger in his voice, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say he sounded more defeated than anything.
I wanted to point out that he was in the common area of the house, but he looked so broken, that I couldn’t find it in myself to argue. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
I walked quietly over to the sofa and sat down on the far cushion, pulling my knees to my chest. After a few seconds, he joined me, sinking down on the other end without a word. I stared off at the blank television screen, not sure if it would be alright to turn it on.
“So is this what you normally do when we’re all gone?” His voice was scratchy from lack of sleep.
“No,” I chuckled nervously. “I’m usually alone.”
He nodded slowly.
“I was kidding,” I waited for a reaction but he just stared ahead, no expression on his face. “I play guitar sometimes, but the silence is... peaceful.” I lied.
“I don’t know. I don’t really like silence.”
“Yeah?” I looked at him, a whole cushion away from me, and all I could see was the sad guy I had met on my way to the elevator before we spoke; it was clear he was hurting, and I wanted to know what had caused it. “Why?”
He shook his head, returning his hand to his hair. “Being alone with my thoughts, it’s like...” The pain in his voice was just suffocating to listen to, it was as if he was drowning.
And I got it.
“Reliving everything makes life hellish. You constantly remind yourself of all the things you secretly take blame for and if you fall in too deep...”
I looked away from him as he continued to speak, feeling his eyes locked onto my profile.
“But when you’re alone there’s no one to break you out of it, no one to assure you it’s okay,” he finished.
I fell back against the cushions, tucking my feet up underneath me. I wanted there to be a blanket to hide myself in as he continued to stare.
“Yeah,” I whispered, turning to face him, his gaze never wavering. It was like he was pleading with me to understand, and I knew all too well what that type of loneliness felt like. “I get it.”
For a while there was just a long period of silence while the broken thoughts hung in the air like fog. Finally, I realized I had been watching him, my eyes tracing the delicate outline of his jaw. He felt my gaze, but he refused to look in my direction, so I cocked my head to the side like a puppy.
Finally, my waiting paid off, and he turned to face me, “What?”
“It is okay, you know that right?” I tried assuring him.
“What makes you think so?”
“Well,” I thought. “Every bad thing that’s ever happened to me in my life has brought me here. I’d like to think that counts for something good. Don’t you?”
And just in that moment, something flicked behind his eyes, just slightly. “I’m starting to.”
***
The rain poured heavily, thudding as it hit the glass window and cascading down to the street below. Usually, I couldn’t sleep when it rained, but the steady drumming had lulled me into unconsciousness.
That’s when the horror of my past returned, slipping into my subconscious when I was too tired to keep my walls up. But instead of reliving the broken fragments of my past, my mind mutated the memories into something even more terrifying.
***
I stood silently on the sidewalk of an empty street. The sky lacked the beauty of stars or moon leaving me cloaked in nothingness.
I blinked my eyes several times before an orange glow lit overhead, finally giving me a glimpse of my surroundings. The b
uildings stood ominously like angry giants that towered over me. I glanced up at the glow of the streetlight overhead, and I could hear the sound of the electricity buzzing through them.
I looked down at my clothes, feeling oddly loose, or maybe it was the tightness. There was just something about them that didn’t feel right, which made sense because they weren’t mine. I wore muddy, oversized jeans and a hoodie. It felt familiar to me, but not as if I had worn it. Instead of my boots, I wore ratty old sneakers, torn and drenched.
I looked back up to the sky, wondering when it must have rained because while there were no stars or moon, there was also no cloud in sight.
Suddenly a chill drifted down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck stood in their own personal terror; I wasn’t alone. But even worse yet, there was nowhere for me to hide.
A woman about my height, possibly taller, stood down near the end of the street under a light of her own. “Hey!” I called to her, hoping she would be able to explain where we were or what in Hell’s name was going on. “Can you help me? I don’t know where I am.” I explained helplessly.
She didn’t respond; she didn’t even move.
“Hello? Ma’am?” I called, my voice growing tighter in my throat. And then it hit me, ‘What if she’s not there at all? Maybe I am alone, and I just see things.’
My heart pounded faster in my chest, my hands shaking as my knees started to buckle. “HELLO?” I realized I was screaming now, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if people heard me, or if there was no one there at all, or if I genuinely was crazy. I just wanted someone to acknowledge that I existed. Anyone. “PLEASE-“ Footsteps padded in the puddles behind me. I spun around causing my hair to fly into my face, but no one was there.
Perspiration poured down from my forehead over the rest of my body. My head throbbed, and my chest felt like I had just been punched. I felt the overpowering urge to scream, and cry, and run, and just give up and let the rain take me away; but I didn’t. No, I couldn’t.
I turned back to face the woman under the streetlight, but she was gone. Clutching my heart I spun wildly, frantically looking to see a place she could’ve disappeared. My breathing turned to rough panting. I almost didn’t notice the streetlights growing dimmer, until they had reached a darkness that was near sightless. I panicked, “HELLO? WILL SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME?” My words were coming out in violent sobs, a breeze just pushing few small pieces of hair away from my face.
Then something pinched me. It felt like a small jellyfish on my ankle, only stinging lightly. It didn’t bother me at first, and then the pain became a piercing sting; like a thousand paper cuts. The pain spread up my legs; within seconds it went from discomfort to excruciating agony.
I tried to lift my pant legs to see what had been biting at me, or clawing; but in the dim light, all I saw was the burnt skin bubbling and hissing as its terrified screams. They formed all up my legs, growing as if the invisible flames were licking and lashing against my bare skin. I cried out as I fell into the water beneath me, not able to carry my own weight anymore. That was when I found her standing over me; watching me.
“Why are you doing this?” I pleaded, no longer able to scream. She simply smiled. “Why?” I choked out.
“You did this to yourself.” She dropped something into the water, and the flames spread more rapidly.
She smiled as she stood over me, motionless as the flames crashed over her like waves. And then it hit me; it wasn’t rain. It’s gasoline. The last thing I managed to cry out before we were engulfed once again in the orange glow was a single word; a word that killed me on the inside while the fire killed me on the outside.
“Mom.”
Slowly, we both died.
NINE
Noah
I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought bitterly, the pain straining my throat and eyes until the world was a violent blur and I knew I couldn’t scream to escape it. I punched at my mattress as if it would make me feel better. I tugged and pulled at the sheets as if crushing things within my fists would undo what I’ve done.
I COULD HAVE FIXED IT, my mind screamed while I rummaged through my dresser drawers. WHERE IS IT? My body grew cold instantly, face flushing and I could feel all of the blood rush to my stomach where it twisted and knotted my intestines. “No, no, no,” I quietly chanted to myself in disbelief.
I let out another choked off sigh, “no.”
I turned my doorknob quietly, searching through kitchen drawers and living room stands but it wasn’t there. Shit, I could feel my lungs collapsing, heart shattering, hands becoming clammy, and it was the point I wanted to start writing but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t think clearly. And then it hit me. The spare room, I stepped quietly up to her door, resting my ear up against it to hear if she was awake. Nothing.
I turned the knob hesitantly, not wanting to wake her as I pushing the door away from me. I could always claim I forgot, I planned. No, I considered while checking shelves and dresser tops for the picture frame. I couldn’t forget her- “Please,” her motionless body choked out in a harsh whisper.
I froze.
My heart padded like bricks falling on water, violent smacks against the inside of my chest, but I said nothing. I watched Hayden roll over while she slept, the frame in sight, but instead I walked past it to see her. Her face twisted in horror, tears and sweat blending as they slid down her soft face, “please help me...” she whispered groggily.
Caught in the moment of watching her in her complete innocence clawing her way out of the terrifying depths of her mind with no one to break her out and remind her it’s okay, I pushed a single strand of hair away from her face.
I admired her a second longer before grabbing the seemingly empty picture frame and pulling her door almost closed. It’s my turn to face my demons, I thought to her.
I pulled back the pins keeping the back pressed against the photo and pulled it off revealing a small white square stained only in the middle with wearing on the edges. Flipping it over I saw a faded image of a youthful woman, maybe 24, 25 sitting on a sofa cluttered with laundry and plastic bags. Her head was cocked to the side while she appeared to be laughing, her face pointing in the direction of a man who watched back soberly in her direction. I continued to study the image, the minute details that put the whole thing together like the almost unnoticeable baby bump that hid beneath her hideous gray sweatshirt.
New poem...
Hayden
I shot up in a panic, gasping and clutching silently to my throat. The room eventually came back into view, and I realized that the pain that remained was on my ankle where the flames had begun, and in my chest where the anxieties hid.
I lifted the covers to see why; apparently, I had been scratching it in my sleep so much so that it bled onto the brim of my sock. “Shit,” I whispered with false frustration, secretly glad I had something to take my mind away from the nightmare.
I stepped quietly into the bathroom to clean myself; thankfully it wasn’t a serious wound, and all it needed was a little soap along with my hands that were sticky with sweat. Realistically I knew I would need a shower to take care of how heavily I sweat; you could’ve safely assumed that rain had come in through my window and found its way over to my bed. I cringed, but something lightened within me. The stress wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t necessarily there anymore, so it was nice for the time being.
On my way back to my bed I noticed that not only had the rain stopped but it was only 3:12 in the morning. I grabbed a corner of my blanket, shifting myself onto the mattress, and pulled it gently over the top of my bare shoulder when I caught a glimpse of a shadow beneath my door and noticed that my door was open a crack when I knew I had closed it.
I sat up, quickly deciding to let it go until I heard the light clicking of the front door opening and shutting. Somehow I had gone to standing and then rummaging through my suitcase for sneakers. It didn’t take long since I had emptied most of the clothes into drawers, so I slippe
d on a gray pair of Adidas and left my bedroom slowly.
I somewhat hoped to run into Noah coming in late or something; nothing.
I tapped my fingers on his door; again, nothing. I tugged on the spaghetti straps of my tank top to readjust them and left the apartment with a sort of eager, lightweight jog.
I just caught a glimpse of his black hoodie as he was getting into the elevator. Now, a normal person might have let this go; this would’ve been the point where they’d say, “Shoot, I guess I missed him, and I’ll just have to pick up some milk in the morning.” I, however, was in no way that person.
I high-tailed it down the steps like they were lava, panting heavily when I finally reached the lobby. My adrenaline was pumping, heart racing, stomach churning; it was like watching a scary movie and anticipating the killer to jump out, or reaching the top of a roller coaster and seeing the drop. It felt awesome.
I slowly pressed the disease ridden door keeping a small crack so he wouldn’t see me. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was hiding from him, but like I said it was awesome.
After impatiently waiting a couple of seconds, positive the germs on the door were consuming my hand relentlessly, I jogged to the barely-open elevator doors. “Shit,” I whisper angrily. Empty.
This time I wasn’t jogging but full-on sprinting to the lobby doors, checking the sidewalk in hopes of seeing him through the misty shadows. Got him.
I weighted my footsteps carefully not to splash in the puddles while I followed him, determined to stay five seconds behind him. At some point, whether it was when we passed through a vacant park or when we speed-walked down a not vacant street that I decided three seconds would be sufficient enough.
A small sliver of me wanted just to haul ass back to the student apartment complex and ask him what he was doing when he gets back, but I decided I didn’t want to walk all the way back the way we came completely alone. At least this way I had someone to witness the attacker and call them out of a lineup.
A bird screeched on a nearby tree branch.
