by S. M. Bowles
I remember him cradling me as he ran and something else, something my mind refused to accept, something it didn’t want me to remember.
The images began to fade away. My head was aching as I sat in the shower and I started to come to. For a moment my thoughts shifted back to the present and I was again picturing Michael in the kitchen relaying the story to his mother. He slunk to the floor his arms clutching his mother’s knees, “Oh, Mother, what have I done!! I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this! Oh, God, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, how could I have let Victor do this?” He was utterly distraught.
“Michael, oh, Michael!” Margaret was holding him and stroking his hair. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame yourself, you mustn’t.”
“Why mustn’t I,” he lifted his head, a ferocious expression coloring his face; “I am a killer!! In order for me to live, others must die!!”
“No, no, Michael, you don’t believe that, you know it’s not true!! Victor killed that family, not you. You saved the girl, Michael.”
“You saved the girl, Michael.” Margaret’s words were ringing in my head as I shook free from the daze I was in to find myself still clutching my knees with the water crashing all around me.
My mind was reluctant to acknowledge the possibility of what I envisioned but my heart was heavy with the truth of it. I felt like I had to confront Michael and Margaret. I desperately needed to know if what I saw was real or just some wild imaginings from an overtaxed mind. I extinguished the jets and stepped out of the shower. I draped myself in one of the larger bath towels and wrapped my hair in one of the smaller ones as I made my way to the bedroom.
I stooped at the bathroom doorway and retrieved the clothes I had piled there. Unsure of what I should do with them, I brought them with me and placed them on one of the window seats. There was an outfit laid out on the bed for me. The pants and top were a handful of sizes too big so I made an effort to roll and cuff them into the right proportions. Margaret was thoughtful enough to include a belt with the ensemble and I cinched it as much as it would allow and fastened it about my waist.
I took the towel from my hair then heard a gentle rap on the door. I felt the tears gathering behind my eyes as I moved to open it. Margaret was standing there with the warmest, most sincere smile but I could sense a great sadness in her eyes as well.
“Are you feeling fresher?” She was making an effort to sound light but there was no mistaking that she had something important that she wanted to talk to me about.
“Margaret?” I initiated the conversation instead.
“Yes Elayna?”
“I think…” I paused unsure how to put my thoughts into words, “I think I know…I think I know why Michael brought me here.”
“Do you?” She was trying to puzzle out my meaning while weighing the possibility of what I might indeed know.
“I’m sorry, Margaret but I...I must have fallen asleep in the shower and somehow…I don’t know if it was a dream, or if it was real.” I couldn’t hold back the flood of tears and they started steaming down my cheeks.
She took a step towards me to comfort me but having been accosted with so many horrible revelations I fretfully pulled away.
I turned and slumped down onto the bed burying my face in my hands. I did not hear Michael through my sobs but he came into the room and wrapped his arms around me. I threw myself around his neck and gave complete abandon to my heartache. He tenderly picked me up and cradled me close then motioned to Margaret to leave us alone so that I could spend my grief. I thought I could feel his tears mingling with mine and it gave me the impression that he was sharing my sorrow with me, attempting to take some of the weight of it from me and trying to lessen the anguish I felt.
“Elayna, I am so, so sorry I couldn’t save them,” he released the hold he had on my memories and I was able to recall everything from the moment I met him with perfect clarity. “I loved them, too,” he whispered “I couldn’t tell you what happened but I knew if I let you, you would see.” His voice cracked with regret bringing on a new wave of emotions from me.
Chapter 3
“Oh,” I whispered through my tears. Suddenly I knew, knew everything. My lips trembled, “No,” I screamed, “No, no, no!!” In a voice I didn’t know I was capable of. “It’s your fault! You killed them, you killed them! I hate you,” I sobbed, “I hate you,” I tried to fight myself free from his grip. I tried to hit him and kick him all the while screaming “I hate you, I hate you,” but Michael just held me tighter. After a moment my voice faltered, “I hate…” and I fell limply against his shoulder knowing full well there was no truth behind my words.
“You should hate me,” he whispered. “Please hate me.”
“I can’t,” I whimpered.
“It’s too late isn’t it? I have done something unforgiveable to you,” he said.
I thought that he was talking about my parents but sensed that there was more to his meaning as well, something I was just too overwhelmed to understand. The minutes ticked by and though it seemed our emotions had worn themselves out we were still clinging to one another, neither willing to break the peace that was descending on us.
He was right, it was too late. I thought about everything that had happened and despite it all and all the blame I could place on Michael, “I love you,” I whispered against his shoulder.
“Oh,” he moaned and stroked my hair as he held me, “I love you, too,” the words reluctantly escaped his lips.
Hearing him say it brought me back to the day we met and how Michael and I became so important to one another.
My mother had taken me back to school shopping and I was worn out from standing near her and from trying on clothes all day. I was seven years old and just about to start second grade. The mall was very crowded that day and I was terribly uncomfortable being there with so many strange people around. I was curious, though, and couldn’t seem to keep my gaze from wandering from one person to the next.
As my mother moved between the racks of clothing I followed along behind her. At one point we were facing the main doorway to the store and I could see a wide lobby-like area just beyond with a stonewalled fountain that had a number of sturdy, metal benches encircling it. By then just about anything was more interesting to me than shopping so while my mother flipped through the various outfits I kept my eye on the fountain and watched the water as it sprouted up and crashed back down into its pool.
I didn’t notice Michael sitting there at first but as my mom moved away from the entrance I turned to follow her and heard his voice calling my name. At first I thought it was my mother but when I looked up to ask her what she wanted she began to move towards the next rack and started sifting through the clothes that were hanging there.
I decided that I must have been mistaken but then I heard the voice again and I realized that it wasn’t a woman’s voice and that I didn’t actually hear it out loud. It seemed like someone was whispering in my head and that they were looking for me. I felt a strange sensation when I heard it, too, like an invisible thread had reached out and attached itself to me. I had an overwhelming urge to follow it knowing it would lead me to whomever it was that wanted me.
As I glanced around wondering where it could have come from I noticed that my mom had moved to yet another rack of clothing. I stepped into the aisle and I was about to follow her when I heard the voice a third time. I turned and instead of following my mother I walked toward the front doorway of the store. Just as I was about to step through the threshold I saw Michael sitting on the fountain’s wall and when he saw me looking at him he smiled. I immediately knew that he was the one who was looking for me so I found my courage and made my way towards him.
“Did you call me?” I asked as I stopped and stood directly in front of him.
He tilted his head and looked me over while a slight frown played on his features. I was mesmerized looking at him and couldn’t help thinking that he must be someone magical, like a prince or an angel or some other
storybook hero. I tried very hard not to smile.
“Elayna?” I heard his voice in my head again.
“Yes,” I said out loud.
“Huh,” he mumbled.
He looked over my shoulder. My mother was hurrying towards us with a fearful and anxious expression. I knew that I had done something very wrong walking away from her in the mall but I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Elayna,” she took my hand, “honey, you scared me! You know you're supposed to stay right beside me when we are out like this!” She wasn’t yelling but there was a sternness in her voice that I didn’t often hear.
I tried to explain to her that I was making a new friend and I motioned to where Michael was sitting on the wall.
“I’m sorry,” he stood up, “I’m sure she didn’t mean to frighten you. I think she just wanted to see the fountain up close,” he cast a private grin at me, “and I just got in the way. I thought I would try to keep her from wandering any further by introducing myself.”
“Oh,” she paused “that was good of you,” my mother seemed flustered as she looked from me to him. “Well, thank you,” she said her voice full of relief. She gently took my hand and as she turned away drew me along with her.
I glanced over my shoulder and concentrated on Michael, “Goodbye,” I thought at him as hard as I could.
He grinned and raised his brows in what I imagined to be approval and I heard his voice in my head again, “Goodbye Elayna.”
I smiled back and followed my mom into the store. She still looked upset so I kept to her side and made sure to express an interest in the clothes she was finding for me. I was much more enthusiastic after the encounter and the rest of our shopping went by fairly quickly. We found our way back to the car and after she piled all our bags into the trunk, she told me to buckle up and climbed into the driver’s seat.
It was only a short drive home and before long we were pulling into the parking area for our building. It was still raining quite hard so my mother told me to wait while she collected our things from the trunk then had me hop out just as we were ready to head inside.
We lived in a condominium at the time; about a half an hour from the city. It was on the second floor and as you walked in the front door to our apartment the hallway opened into the kitchen on one side and the dining room on the other. The dining room spilled into the living area and then there was another hallway to the left that led to the two bedrooms.
My bedroom was the first on the right. It was painted a soft lavender color and unlike the wood floors that covered the rest of the apartment, my room had a thick, white carpet. I remember it being super-soft and spongy when you walked on it. There were no windows in my room but there was a large sliding door that led to a small balcony. During the day it would let tons of sunshine into my room making it feel extra warm and cozy. I had a tall bed that my mom called a captains bed because it had drawers underneath the mattress rather than a traditional bed frame.
Directly across from my bedroom was my bathroom and my parent’s bedroom was to the right at the end of the hallway. It was about twice the size as mine with its own bathroom and separate vanity area. There was also a big walk-in closet that I liked to use as a fort sometimes. My dad worked at home every once in a while, so a corner of their bedroom had a small office space set-up with a desk and computer and a cabinet for storing important papers.
Once we were safely inside my mom fixed me a snack and I asked if I could watch TV while I ate. “You can watch one show,” she said, “but when you're done you should put your dishes away and find something to do in your room.” She paused and added with a touch of sympathy, “I’m sorry it’s still raining, honey,” she ruffled my hair, “I know you’d rather be outside. I’m sure tomorrow will be better.” She gathered up all the bags and left me to myself while she transferred all my new clothes to my closet.
After my show I spent most of the afternoon using my building blocks and wondering about Michael; who he was, how I had heard his voice and whether or not I would ever see him again. My father came home around dinner time and I was so engrossed by my thoughts that I didn't notice him in my doorway. I jumped when I caught him standing there smiling and watching me. “Daddy, you’re home! You surprised me!”
He gave a little chuckle, “I’m sorry. Whatcha working on?” he stepped into my room.
I held up my project for him to see, “Can you help me?”
“Oh, no, I would but it’s just about time to eat,” he apologized. “Why don’t I help you clean-up instead.”
We put all the building blocks back in their special box and my dad tucked it onto its shelf in the closet. We left what I’d managed to put together so far on the play table. Afterwards he told me to wash up so I scooted across the hall to my bathroom while he turned and went to his bedroom. My mom was laying the dinner things out when I got to the dining room but she stopped to help me slide my chair closer to the table as my dad joined us.
While we ate my parents each talked about their day. Eventually they got around to the topic of shopping and my dad asked whether or not we had gotten everything we needed.
“I think so,” my mother said and gave my dad a rundown of where we shopped and what we bought.
“Well, I’m glad that you went today, it wouldn’t have been good for much else,” he sighed, “and it sounds like you got quite a bit done.”
I was surprised that my mom never mentioned Michael but somewhat relieved as well. I really didn't want my dad to know that I had walked away from my mother while we were out. I knew he would be disappointed in me and I always felt so badly whenever he found out that I had done something wrong.
My father cleared the dishes away after dinner and my mother helped get my shower ready. “Try not to play too long and make sure you do a good job washing up.”
“I will,” I promised.
After my shower I ran across the hall into my bedroom and scrambled into the pajamas that my mother had laid out for me. I was pretty tired by the time I was finished so after we read a story together and my parents tucked me in I fell right to sleep. Several hours later I woke up; anxious and a little afraid. The apartment was still and dark so I knew my parents had gone to bed. I felt like I heard a strange noise and wondered if that was why I had woken up. As I strained my eyes and ears I noticed that the blinds hanging over my slider were being shuffled by a light breeze and that it must have been open. I started to get up to go and close it.
“Elayna?” Michael’s voice was in my head again.
“Oh,” I said out loud, “it’s you.”
He stepped into my bedroom.
“Ssh,” he whispered and put his finger to his lips to signal me to not be so loud.
My heart began to race and I couldn’t decide if I was excited or afraid as I cautiously hopped from the covers. My mother always left a shoe in the doorway instead of closing it all the way so it wouldn’t be so dark if I needed to get up at night. I took the shoe from the door and pulled it closed then flipped the light switch. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness I stood wondering what to do.
Michael slowly moved about my room, examining things as he went. A few moments later he made his way toward my bed and took a seat on the very end.
“So, Elayna, did you get in trouble today?” he asked me in a voice that put me completely at ease. He patted the bed motioning me to come back.
I climbed up and propped my pillow before sliding my legs under the covers. “No,” I said, “but my mom told me not to do it again. She said that I need to be careful because it is very scary for her when she doesn’t know where I am.”
He nodded in understanding.
“She said that there are lots of nice people in the world, like you but sometimes they look nice on the outside but are not on the inside. She said sometimes someone might look bad but is really, really good.”
“Your mother sounds very wise.”
I liked the way he said it and I smiled with prid
e.
“How do you know I am a nice person, Elayna?”
My heart sank and I instantly realized that I might have misjudged him.
“You’re not so sure, now are you? What if I told you that I am not a nice person, that I am not a good person?”
I had wanted so very much for him to be a good person that I never considered he might be someone dangerous, someone I should be afraid of. I tried to think of a reason why I knew he was a good person.
“Well,” I cautiously said, “my dad once told me that no one is really bad. People just make bad choices.”
“Interesting,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, “but not enough.”
It sounded like he was saying my dad was wrong. Suddenly I felt very defensive, “Well, why do you think you are a bad person?”
He wasn’t expecting me to respond that way and seemed taken aback. He took a long moment to answer and turned away when he finally replied, “Because of what I am, because of what I’ve done,” his voice was less than a whisper.
When he turned back he looked very distraught. I felt like he had just confided in me and I regretted the harsh tone I had questioned him with. I tried to sound apologetic, “If you have done something wrong you should say you’re sorry and try to make it right.”
“That’s not possible. I can’t change back and I can’t undo what I have done,” his voice cracked and again he looked shamefully away.
I couldn’t imagine what he meant but after hearing the regret in his voice I began to feel very sorry for him and I desperately wanted to make him feel better, “If you have changed, maybe it is just because you have given up too easily. Were you a good person before?”
“Yes, I tried to be,” he lifted his head up, “but now…”
“When I am about to do something I know I shouldn’t, I try and think of something that will help me make a better choice. Maybe you could too.”
The sad expression on his face deepened, “Please don’t cry,” I whispered and inched toward him. This was new; I had never seen a man cry before. In my experience the grown-ups had always comforted the children not the other way around. I put his head on my shoulder, hoping it was the right thing to do, “Why do you feel so bad?”
