by Rae, Nikki
As soon as the thought has crossed my mind, my eyes snap open and I’m back. I suddenly feel like I’ve been away from myself for hours. And when I look down, there’s blood seeping through my shirt just above my collarbone.
Immediately, I’m on my feet and at the sink, running the water as hot as it will go, not caring when it burns my hands as I gather soap between them and try to get the blood out of the light blue fabric. It’s an afterthought to take the shirt off and try rising the thing in the sink and when I do, I get a glimpse of where the blood is coming from: My mark. Myles’ mark. That’s enough for whatever blood is left in my stomach to come up and I lean over the sink.
It must be my lucky day, because at precisely that moment, someone’s knocking on the door.
“Occupied!” I yell, my voice cracking as I abandon all hope of washing the shirt and instead begin rising out my mouth at the sink, my hands still faintly covered in soap.
“It’s me,” Jade’s muffled voice comes through the door. “Let me in.”
I shake my head, almost forgetting that he can’t see me with the door closed to my own personal hell. “No,” I say.
“Come on,” he says. “What other choice do you have?”
I take a deep breath, my hands still clutching my damp shirt. The red stain has spread into more of a brown, but I can’t exactly pass it off as coffee. I don’t have any real concept of exactly how long it takes my hands to grab onto the handle, but they manage to twist and open up to my brother’s concerned face. In seconds he’s inside and shutting the door behind him.
I can tell he’s trying to hold on to calmness; make me believe that my appearance isn’t bothering him. “What happened?” he whispers.
I look down at my torso, which still has blood dripping down from my collar bone. I throw my shirt onto the counter. “I don’t know.”
Jade pats the toilet seat, not having to tell me to sit down. He goes over to the sink and tries in much the same way that I did to remove the stain from my shirt. He doesn’t spend as long on it as I did before he gives up and turns his attention back to me.
He tears some toilet paper off of the roll next to me and presses it into my chest. It doesn’t even hurt. “Okay,” he says to himself. “So I guess we should clean you up and then call Myles.”
I shake my head and try my best to speak but it’s not happening.
“Listen,” he says, like he can reason with me. Like he can even begin to change my mind.
“You have to be okay right now,” he says. “Well.” He turns his attention back to my shirt while still keeping a hand pressed to my collarbone. “Well you have to act okay right now,” he corrects himself. “Just pretend to eat, then we’ll go to the hotel and we can freak out and lose it there, when your friends and other band members aren’t around.”
Jade sighs, and I can tell how worn down he is. “But maybe once we’re back at the hotel we’ll call Myles and see what he wants you to do so this,” he gestures to me as the blood begins to dry. “Stops happening.”
My head is pounding and my fingers are shaking. Blood. I can imagine swimming in a shallow pool of it. I could let its warmth spread over me, shoot through me. When I open my eyes again, everything in front of them is a dark pink like I squeezed them shut too tight. Once I blink, the color is gone and Jade is in front of me. “Okay?” he asks.
I nod.
“Okay,” he says to himself. He shuts the water off and throws the shirt flat on top of the paper towel dispenser and then turns back to me.
“So all we need to do now is stop this shit from bleeding...” he says to himself, concentrating on my chest. “Hold that,” he places my hand on top of the toilet paper and I robotically obey.
Jade shrugs off his sweatshirt and wraps it around my middle. “You’re shaking,” he says.
I didn’t even notice. When his hands graze my skin, the warmth makes goose bumps rise on my skin and I have to close my eyes so I can concentrate on my breathing.
“Do you have a fever?” Jade asks, seeming to think this skin to skin contact isn’t enough, he places his hand on my forehead, which sends a surge of heat through my head and down my neck.
I’m surprised when Jade shivers at the contact. I realize I was taking the warmth from him and sending the cold into his body.
“You’re so cold,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah.” I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.
Jade doesn’t dwell on it as he stands. “Okay, so why don’t you take care of that,” he says, pointing to the wad of toilet paper in my hand. “And I’ll try to fix your shirt.” He picks up the sopping material in his hands and turns on the hand dryer with a tap of his fist.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say. “It’s going to look weird if you’re in here with me too long.”
It seems to take him a long time to look up at me but when he does, the smile he gives me isn’t exactly happy. “It’s no problem,” he says. “You need help.” He glances at how I’m wrapping his hoodie around my waist to keep myself warm. “Myles can help you.”
The sound of his name in Jade’s mouth–yet again–causes a surge of some emotion I can’t pinpoint. Maybe it’s more than one, but whatever it is, it makes my chest burn and my mouth go completely dry. “Jade,” I whisper.
“No,” he says. “I know you don’t want to see him and I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t either.” He holds my shirt up in front of him to study the stain.
I stand on shaking legs and have to lean on the sink, where the mirror hanging above it holds both of our reflections. He doesn’t turn to me, only to the hand dryer again, pushing the button and holding my shirt underneath. The white noise fills the small space as I stand up too, my head less clouded and the pain finally subsiding. Maybe all I needed was to sit down for a minute. When I look into the mirror and peel the toilet paper clump away from my skin, I’m relieved to find that it’s no longer bleeding. All I have to do is clean the dried blood off of myself and I’ll be fine. Good as new. I run the tap, first wetting toilet paper and then giving up and scooping the warm water onto my chest. My mark. The one Myles left on me in order to save my life, so he could bring me back into this—this world that only gets more confusing without him by my side.
“Myles knew who our father was.”
Everything in the room except for the dryer and the faucet stops. Jade turns to me in slow motion.
“What.” The word is whispered, but I can hear it over the rest of the noise. When he looks up at me, his eyes are wide. “What did you just say?” he asks a little bit louder. “What did you just say and what does it mean?”
I shut my eyes, wishing that I hadn’t said anything. It’s his right to know–of course it is–but should I have told him now? Should I have dumped one more thing onto him when everything he knows is crumbling to dust as soon as he has a hold of it?
“Myles…” I say, but I have to clear my throat before continuing. I also stare down at my hands planted on the edge of the sink. “He knew our dad. We all knew him...but he took it away. He took it all away because of me.”
Jade tosses my shirt to the side. It tumbles off the dryer and settles on the dirty linoleum floor. He moves closer to me so when he speaks next, it’s practically in my ear. “Tell me,” he says. “Tell me everything.”
So I do. I tell him about Michael. About every single dream or hallucination I’ve had about or with him. I tell him about dying, about the water and the exact replica of his house with his dead fiancé waiting inside. And I tell him about Myles. How he’s kept everything from me, including the fact that when we were small he was in our lives. When our father left, it was because of me and that Myles stayed.
I tell him how if I was basically never born, none of this would be happening and maybe the rest of my family would have normal lives. Then I tell him about me. I tell him about my blood and how different I am because of it. How our father was the same way. How he’s dead now because of it. How Michael is after me
for the same reason. How I may not survive very long as a vampire at all. It takes no more than ten minutes because I speak so quickly, giving my brother no time to react. And he takes it all in, staring at the mirror and the both of us.
“Anything else?” he asks under his breath.
I shake my head, unable to speak anymore.
I sit back down on the closed toilet lid. Jade hands me my shirt without a word. There’s no red on it anymore, just a stretched out shade of brown. When I take it from him, my hand touches his and I can’t stop it from latching on. I can’t help that he feels so warm when I’m so cold.
Cold, like a hole in the ground. Like the earth my mother left me in.
“Sophie?” Jade’s voice is strained. A note I can bend and break if I choose to, depending on how hard I squeeze his arm. “Sophie,” he whispers, but it’s a far off sound. It means nothing. “You’re scaring me.”
The colors come next. Yellow and then brown. I realize what they mean without anyone having to tell me. Concern that singes away into fear. I can taste it on my tongue like dust.
“Sophie.” Now his voice is even, but the colors don’t fade away. He’s still scared. Part of me wants to stop, but the bigger part of me–the monster in me–wants it. I want all of it.
He moves his arm, but it only makes us come closer. My head is almost against his chest when he says, “You were nervous when you got your wings tattooed.”
That almost makes me stop, but it’s a memory I can’t hold on to, not like this. Not like him. Not like life and warmth and color.
I hear him–feel him, deep in my bones, rattling them, making my fingers ache. “You were really excited,” he whispers. “And I did all the paperwork and Cookie drew up the whole thing and put it on your back and when she walked out of the room, do you remember what you said to me?”
I don’t answer, but my fingers loosen, probably not enough for him to notice, but they do.
“You said,” he whispers. “‘I don’t think I deserve this’.”
My mind flashes back to that place and time, when I was fourteen, sitting on the table with my hoodie reversed so my back was bare and wet with the stencil. I said the words when Cookie left to answer the phone and Jade was sitting in a chair across the room. He got up, scooped me into a hug, and said into my ear, “You do.”
I blink a few times, something I don’t think I’ve done in at least a few minutes. In the time it takes me to do that, my grip on Jade’s arm loosens completely and he pulls his arm free. The warmth is drained from my face and fingers, causing goose bumps on my exposed skin. The look in my brother’s eyes is familiar; it’s the same one I saw when he scooped me out of the pool when I was little. The same as when he came out of that hospital room Stevie was in. He’s terrified. Uncertain of what is going to happen next, but he probably thinks the outcome can only be one way.
“I–” I say. “I’m sorry.”
Jade looks down at his wrist and I notice how red it is.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking and breaking like ice. “I didn’t mean to.”
He glances up at me again, “It’s okay.” He flexes his fingers.
“I really am,” I say, tears finally clogging up my mouth so it doesn’t come out the way I want it to sound. “For everything.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Put your shirt on. We’ve been in here too long.”
I do as he says, not looking at the stain or my collarbone or him.
“Where’s your coat?” he asks.
I gulp down the rest of the tears, understanding what I’m supposed to do. Act normal now, fall apart later. I don’t have to answer Jade; he turns around and finds it on the floor. “Use it to cover up the stain until you can change your shirt, okay?”
I nod.
Jade doesn’t wait for me to button it up before he leaves the room.
Chapter 14
Found
“In this time, in this moment, we could crash together.”—Digital Daggers
The show is during the afternoon. And outside. Fortunately enough, it’s in a huge tent on a beach, which is only a block away from our hotel. I don’t have to worry about the sun. I didn’t have time to go home and change, so I wear the trench coat onstage anyway. Jade told us he wasn’t feeling well so he went to lie down in our hotel room. He isn’t coming to our show and I couldn’t bring myself to be alone with him. I can’t see that look on his face again. I won’t risk it. I meet Boo and Trei onstage for sound check, which is right before our performance this time around. No one makes a fuss when they see us come out from behind the curtain, but that’s pretty much what we were expecting. It’s hot inside the tent; the air thickens as the crowd starts to gather.
“You okay?” Trei asks as I sit down at the keyboard. “You didn’t really eat anything.”
I watch the back of the crowd where the sound guy is set up. He signals for me to speak into the microphone and I do, “One, two, one, two.”
He gives me a thumbs up and then he moves onto how the keyboard sounds, then Boo and Trei.
“You have the set list?” Boo asks. It takes me longer than it should to realize it’s directed at me.
“No,” I say.
Boo sighs and I shouldn’t hear it, but even if I didn’t, he exaggerates shrugging his shoulders so much I wouldn’t be able to miss it. “Okay,” he says walking over to me, taking a pen out of his pocket.
My body tenses when he tries to take my hand, but I think fast and grab the pen from him as quickly as possible, minimizing the chance that I touch him. “Just tell me the songs.”
Boo rattles off a different combination of the same songs we’ve played for almost two weeks now and I jot them all down on my wrist.
“No encore tonight,” Boo says. “And our merch is being sold by the venue, not us.”
“Okay,” I say, but it isn’t loud enough for him to hear. I toss his pen back at him and we wait patiently for the sound guy to tell us when to begin.
I decide that maybe going through the motions, the way I had been before the whole crowd-walking incident, is the best way to do this. I don’t open myself up for all of these strangers to see. I don’t get lost in the songs, letting them cover me once I’m exposed. All I worry about is getting through our set without messing up the notes or lyrics and I count them down, feeling more and more relieved with every one that’s finished, the crowd eating up what we’ve given them, even though my portion of the performance is stale.
Again, I don’t remember it starting or ending. Just clips of songs and sounds before we’re backstage again. Maybe music makes my brain shut off more than it did before and that’s why everything is a blur. Of course the one thing that would bring me comfort would be forgotten when I need it. Nothing else is going right, so why should I expect solace, even the littlest bit?
When it’s over, we head backstage, like we’ve done at every show since the beginning. Only I can’t stay in that enclosed space with all of the people outside, cheering as Honus takes the stage.
“I’m going to get some air,” I announce.
Boo looks up from his phone and Trei stops putting away her violin. “We were going to watch Honus play, but do you want us to go with you?”
“Nah,” I say, trying for nonchalance. “You guys stay and have fun. I’m feeling kind of sick.” I grab my sunglasses from my coat pocket and put them on.
Sympathetic faces all around. I’ve fooled them once again. “Well, if you need a ride back to the hotel, just let one of us know.” Boo says.
“Right,” Trei retorts. “Because we brought our cars on tour.”
“Shut up,” Boo says in the least threatening way. “I’m just trying to help.” He stares back at me. “We’ll help you get a cab or something. Okay?”
I nod, even giving them half a smile before I walk out of the backstage area and leave the tent. I feel guilty stalking off, separating myself from my bandmates again, when I haven’t exactly been present for tour. They hav
en’t said anything concerning that, but I know deep down, they must have noticed it at some point. Maybe they think I’m having a hard time adjusting to touring. Maybe they think I’m still upset about Stevie. Normal problems.
Outside it’s brighter and even though I’m wearing my shades, I can’t stare directly ahead of me. The sunlight reflects off of each granule of sand so brightly that my head starts to throb, which makes my stomach hurt. I’m hungry, I realize, and I also realize that I don’t know what that means anymore. Food disinterests me and blood makes me sick. I suck energy from whoever touches me and even that doesn’t seem to help for long.
Once I’ve steadied myself, I take a chance by looking around. Everything is still too bright, but at least I can see now. Behind me is the tent, where the booming sound of Honus plays on. Ahead of me is some kind of boardwalk with games and people in bathing suits.
I only mean to take a few steps toward the water, but suddenly, I find myself sitting at the edge of the waves, the foam licking at my boots. I take a few steps back, wondering how I got here so fast. Did I walk and not remember it, or did I run so fast that my brain didn’t process it? My knees buckle then and my butt comes into contact with the hot sand. I feel it through my coat and jeans as if I weren’t wearing anything at all. I dig my hands into it, until I can feel the damp, cool layer underneath.
My mind flashes back to the night my mom freaked out, throwing my things out the window, into trees and all over the lawn.
“He’s never coming back, you know,” she said. “He doesn’t love you.”
Mom was talking about Ryan—our dad. She had to be.
Did he? Did he love me–us–enough to walk away? Or did he just leave so he could protect himself, so he wasn’t just sitting at home waiting for Michael to pick him off?
I shake my head, forcing myself to think about what happened after that.
Myles following me to the beach, finding me, sensing where I went. Him placing his jacket over me, sitting with me in the rain until I was ready to get back up.
