The scene on the floor around me looked heartbreakingly familiar.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, even as my stomach turned over, starting to put together all the pieces I wished would stay scattered.
“Look around,” he mumbled as he gestured to the room.
I stared at the heap of a man I called a father. He had a sick sort of pride in his eyes when his gaze fell to my ripped-apart hands.
“Who do you think you’ll hit first? Sherry? Or will you wait till you have a kid? They do drive you nuts after a while. Either way, you’ll hurt her. You’ll make her cry. You’ll ruin her. We were born to destroy people. That’s all we’re good for.”
Oh God.
I looked down, and I couldn’t tell where my blood ended and his began. But it didn’t make much of a difference, did it? Our blood was the same. We were the same.
How many times had a residence of ours seen violence? How many times did blood splatter on the walls? How many times did the sound of bones cracking reverberate off the floor?
Too many. Too fucking many to count.
This particular house hadn’t seen much of it. But instead of my father, I ended up being the one to introduce it.
I was him.
I darted toward a trash can in the corner of the room, emptying my stomach as I violently wretched.
And he was still laughing.
Still.
Fucking.
Laughing.
“And just think? She’d still have her parents right now if it hadn’t been for you.”
“No,” I whispered. “That was you.”
He was silent, giving me a few moments of reprieve, before he said, “You.”
“What?” I finally turned around.
“You asked why.” I tried to ignore his smirk. “You’re why. You think you can ruin my life, then run away and live happily ever after?”
I sighed, sad and defeated. “How did I ruin your life?”
“I’d still have your mother if it weren’t for you.” Typical. He would forever see his actions through a distorted lens, diminishing his sins while magnifying mine.
“She was who I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. And if I don’t get to have her, why should I let you have Sherry?”
The words sent a shock of panic through me before I froze.
Last night wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t a one-time thing born of alcohol and sadness. He planned this. All under the child’s mentality of, if I can’t have it, neither can you.
“This worked out even better than I could have imagined. She’ll hate you when she finds out,” he slurred, his eyes fluttering shut. “She’ll…” He trailed off as he slumped down and passed out, whether from the alcohol or my hits, I didn’t know.
I turned my back on my beaten father. The weight of his words settled over me, practically sucking the air and life and anything I’d had left from me. The front door opened just as I looked down at the blood on my hands again. The proof that I was becoming him. Slowly and surely, he won. He took everything and the final piece was me.
“I always knew I wanted to be a cop,” Officer Wagner said. I looked up to see his eyes on my father.
“What?” My mind was muddled.
“C’mon. Let’s leave.”
Numb, I followed him out to his car. As we drove away, he started talking. “I was new… young. I thought that was how it worked. And now two people are dead because of it.”
My gaze was trained out the window. “I don’t blame you. I stopped expecting a savior a long time ago. Where are we going?”
“Back to the hospital?”
Why should I let you have Sherry?
The thought was a vise grip around my heart. I quickly shook my head. “No, I… can’t.”
“Sherry will be waking up soon.” I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“I can’t stay here.” My eyes found my bloodied hands.
“Hunter, we may not be able to charge him this time, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you two safe.” I could feel him shoot a worried glance my way. “But, do you think he’d try anything again? I mean, you guys are leaving for college, aren’t you? Do you really believe he’d follow you?”
“I didn’t believe he was capable of this. But look where we are.”
When Wagner stayed silent, I whispered, “I could have killed him.”
“But you didn’t. You—”
“I wanted to.” My hands started shaking, adrenaline coursing through me in a way that felt deadly. “I still want to. What does that say about me? I feel it in my hands, the tingles that are begging me to smash my fist in his face.” A few tears ran down my cheeks. “And I keep wondering, is this what he feels?”
“Hunter. You are not him. This was an extraordinary circumstance.”
“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that if it can happen once, it can happen twice, thrice… a thousand times.” I held my hands out, caked in crimson, my knuckles still cracked open from where flesh met flesh. “I did this. I became everything I swore I wouldn’t. So even if I don’t believe him, how could I put another person through this? How could I put Sherry through this? She deserves… God, she deserves everything.” My voice broke on the last word, tears still dripping down my face.
My guilt wasn’t blinding me to my father’s responsibility. Because the fact of the matter was, my father was an evil bastard hell-bent on destroying me and everything I cared about. But another fact was that I knew this about him, I knew and I never did anything to stop it. I never tried to report him again and I never fought back. Not until it was too late.
He stopped the car in front of a house. “Where are we?”
“My place. But I think you should relax and reconsider—”
“I—I can’t.”
“She’ll need you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not what she needs. I’ve been the poison in her life. She needs a cure.”
And what if my father was serious and tries again?
Sherry had been my escape. Every single day she’d saved me, she’d been the reason for all my joy. And all I’d been responsible for was her pain. Any good I had to offer, would never be enough. My love would never be enough.
She should hate me for all that had happened. I was the reason for the most painful thing in her life.
And that was why, when we entered Wagner’s house and he went to get to me a glass of water, I bolted. I wasn’t giving him another chance to change my mind. My decision to leave was fragile, and one wrong move could convince me I should stay. Even though it would be a mistake.
I never thought he’d win. I always thought I’d take Sherry away and come out on top. We were taught that evil could be beat, and maybe it could.
But not here. Not now.
I lost.
He won.
18 years old
I woke up alone.
My throat hurt and my heart felt heavy, though I couldn’t say why. I was reaching for the call button when a soft knock echoed throughout the room.
“C-come in.” I tried to clear my throat, but that only made the pain worse.
An officer stepped through, quietly shutting the door behind them. “Sherry Hughes?”
“Yes.” I sat up as best I could.
“I’m Officer Wagner.”
I swallowed and spoke through the burn. “How are my parents? My boyfriend? Where are they?”
His look of pity nearly crippled me. “Ms. Hughes, may I sit down?”
“Are my parents with you?” I asked, looking over his shoulder. He came closer, done waiting for an answer. “Just…” I could feel tears collecting in my eyes. “Just tell me they’re with you… please.”
His own eyes were wet as he pulled up a chair and sat down next to me. “I’m so sorry, but…” He trailed off. If he couldn’t hold it together, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to.
“I regret to inform you that both your parents were dead on arrival. I’
m so sorry, Ms. Hughes…”
I took one more deep breath. I had only a few moments of composure left in me. “And Hunter? My boyfriend?”
A slight sob broke out of him, and I couldn’t understand why he was so emotional. But I waited. I held on, by the edges, but I held on. There was still the barest amount of hope. It wouldn’t take this pain away, but it wouldn’t add to it, either.
“He’s gone, too, Sherry. He…”
I didn’t hear the rest. I thought being inside that burning house had been suffocating, but it was nothing compared to this. Because this time there was no escape. No door to get through. No fresh air to be found. No peace to be had.
It felt like a knife to the heart as the world shifted out from under me for the second time in a minute.
He promised he wouldn’t leave me.
He had.
And my parents…
“I just saw them… they just… it was my birthday and—” My voice cracked and I had to stop. I sobbed, trying to catch my breath. Everything burned. My throat. My eyes. My chest. As if I’d burned up as well. “How can they all be dead?”
I had nothing.
No Bobby.
No Mom.
No Dad.
No Hunter.
No home.
Nothing.
“Sherry.” His voice was soft as it broke through the fog. “Hunter’s not dead… he’s just gone.” The officer shrugged, as dissatisfied with the answer as I was.
“I don’t understand. Why…?”
“He believed his father started the fire.”
My mind was whirling; there was too much information to process. My parents were dead. Hunter had left me. And his father was responsible for all of it?
And yet, I knew. I knew from the bottom of who I was that Hunter was right. His father did this. Why wouldn’t he? He’d hated Hunter his whole life. We were foolish to think that the dormancy of abuse meant he wasn’t dangerous. Abuse was abuse and we should have stopped him sooner.
“But why would he leave?”
The officer looked uncomfortable. “Well, Hunter confronted him at his house and—”
I shot up, wincing at the pain before I stubbornly ignored it. “W-what happened?
“I don’t know. I got there after it all went down.”
“What went down?” I sounded downright frantic at this point.
“There was a fight. I got there after his father was already unconscious.”
Shaking my head, I gripped the sheets and closed my eyes. “None of this makes sense. Hunter never fought back. He hates violence. I don’t understand…” I needed him. My parents were gone… and oh, God, my parents were gone…
My cries came harder, and my throat felt like it was being ripped apart along with my heart.
“Where’d h-he go? When’s he coming b-back?”
“I don’t know, miss. He didn’t say. I don’t think…” He paused to clear his throat, like this was just as painful for him.
How the hell could it be?
“I don’t think he’s planning on returning.”
I didn’t have any other words. There was no eloquent way to describe how heartbroken I was. And not felt. Was. This wasn’t a feeling, it was a permanent state of being for me now. I knew I’d never be the same. A heart couldn’t break like this and go back to normal.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
I looked up and saw Officer Wagner walk out the door. He must have been talking and had given up when I hadn’t responded. Once it shut, I looked around my hospital room.
The TV was on mute, but an older couple was on the screen. The man looking down at the woman, his hand casually on her hip as they talked in the kitchen. Just like my parents did.
A minute later I heard a little boy squeal, drawing my attention to the window. He was smiling as he kicked a soccer ball around on the grass. Just like Bobby did.
My gaze moved toward the chair beside my bed, and I imagined Hunter sitting there and holding my hand, telling me he loved me and that everything would be okay.
“He promised,” I whispered to the empty room, to the ghosts, who were all I had left.
The sun was shining.
Birds were chirping.
And if I listened carefully, I was sure I’d be able to hear the giggles of happy children at the park two streets over.
“Sherry?” Maria’s soft voice wrapped around me, providing me with the smallest amount of warmth. Because not even the sunniest day could defrost the coldness inside me. “John and I were thinking of leaving. We only have the babysitter for another half hour. But if you want me to stay, John can go home—”
“I’m fine,” I cut her off, my eyes still focused on the freshly packed dirt. “You two go ahead. Be with your family.”
I didn’t need to look at her to imagine the nervous glance she was giving her husband. When they made no move to leave I forced my gaze to meet hers. “I promise I’m fine. I’d actually like to be alone.”
I need to get used to it.
I was burying my parents alone.
I would deal with the condolences alone.
I would do everything… alone.
When I was checked out of the hospital a little under a week ago, they told me I was lucky. The doctor actually used that fucking word. Lucky. I was “lucky” because the most I’d suffered was some smoke inhalation, not enough to do any harm, but otherwise there were no burns, no damage.
No damage?
I laughed in the doctor’s face. He probably thought I was crazy and considered keeping me for psychiatric evaluation. But I didn’t care. I cared very little about anything.
And based on Maria’s expression right now, she knew it. Her eyes were the epitome of maternal worry, and I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. They were just a reminder of what I’d never have again.
After a few more reassuring words and an embrace that I halfheartedly returned, I heard them walk away. The shutting of their car doors echoed just as one of the birds that had been singing so cheerfully landed on top of my father’s headstone.
My father’s headstone.
I felt sick as I placed one unsteady hand on my stomach and brought the other to cover my mouth. The bird looked at me like he didn’t understand.
I didn’t either.
Funerals were supposed to be gloomy. Rain should’ve been coming down in buckets, punishing the earth, while thunder rattled the skies and lightning illuminated the sorrows below.
But that wasn’t happening. The weather didn’t care.
The world didn’t care.
It kept on spinning. Seasons would change and everyone would forget.
But what about me? How was my world supposed to go on when I didn’t have the people I needed? How would it spin without its axis?
I knew the answer: it wouldn’t. There was nothing to keep me from spiraling out of control.
I hadn’t planned it, but I ended up staying through the night. People came and went, and birds continued to sing against the backdrop of a beautiful, picturesque sunset. My eyes stayed dry. And only when dawn broke on the horizon, signifying a new day, did I get up and walk to my car.
My questions outweighed my answers.
And the hope that I might get answers was the only thing that would keep me going. But what I didn’t know then was that it kept me going in the wrong direction, and from that day forward, I’d always be looking back.
Most visited the past, enjoyed the happy memories, and moved on.
Not me.
I was about to live there, play with my ghosts, and become stuck.
A month later and there were still no answers. No arrest. No Hunter.
Officer Wagner told me it was highly likely Hunter’s father was responsible, but apparently arson cases have a low conviction rate, and the prosecutor didn’t think there was enough evidence.
He kept asking why.
Why would his father do this?
I guess we were always looking for whys. As if there was an acceptable reason for a tragedy.
Could we ever make sense of the student who gunned down his classmates?
Or why the person flew a plane into a building?
Or why a father hated his son so much he would take away the only family he ever had?
I didn’t have an explanation for him.
It was a month before I was supposed to leave for Carillo, and he had me in his office for another update, which was the same as all the rest.
Nothing.
“Do you know what phantom pains are?” I asked as I stared at the picture of his family.
“Yes…”
“That’s what this feels like. But it’s not something I could replace or get used to, like a leg or an arm. It’s my heart.” I paused when my voice cracked. “I feel like I’ve lost my heart, my entire chest, and there’s just this constant sharp ache. Sometimes it’s so bad it wakes me up at night.”
I didn’t look over at him—I knew what I’d find. I sounded pitiful, I knew I did. But the truth was, those words weren’t even close to describing how truly awful I felt.
Real agony. True, heart-wrenching pain could never be written or explained.
“They’re all gone. I have no one.”
“Sherry—”
“I know.” I shook my head and got up. I didn’t know what he was going to say this time, but he always said one of five things.
I’m sorry.
Don’t give up.
It’s not your fault.
It’ll get better.
I’ll keep looking.
I left for college four weeks later, but I came back when I could, looking for updates, asking about Hunter. Every time I left another piece of my heart would break off, which was kind of funny since I didn’t think there had been any left.
I only spoke to Officer Wagner and Maria when I came home; everyone else had expected me to start moving on.
Because you were only allowed to grieve for so long. Like everything else in life, there was a time limit for how long you were allowed to mourn your dead parents. Or missing boyfriend. There was a time limit for the number of hours you could be angry.
Once that time was up, you were expected to go back to the person you were before they died. And wasn’t that just the stupidest fucking thing I’d ever heard.
Unveiling Ghosts Page 21
