Dark Side of the Moon

by Kristy Centeno

  “It sounds good in theory, but pain has a way of seeping in even when you’re trying to be oblivious to it.”

  He was right, but finding Mom was just one of my many concerns.

  “Have you talked to this family member?”

  “I met him this morning.”

  “How do you know he’s who he says he is?”

  “Dad, he showed me an old photo of Mom.” Not a lie, but it sure sounded as if it was. The picture was in fact a portrait.

  “A photo?”

  “He looks just like her too. They could be twins.” I shook my head, pressing the phone to my ear. Recognizing Bray as a blood relation went deeper than just his physical resemblance to us. A part of me acknowledged him as family, even if I couldn’t understand how.

  “Her real name is Elsa.” I omitted her last name because I didn’t want him to dig further.

  “Elsa? Why would she change her name? I don’t get—”

  “It’s why I need to find her. I need answers to the many questions in my head.”

  “If you’re really that determined to do this, I can’t keep you from it. But you’re going to have to call me, keep me updated. Don’t lose communication with me or I’ll know something is wrong.”

  “Deal,” I said. “I’ll call you every other night. Is that okay?”

  “Try every night. If possible.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  “And Marjorie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful. Don’t run off with people you don’t know.”

  I smiled, touched by his overprotective nature. If he only knew I was trying to protect him.

  “Take care of the family while I’m out, Dad.”

  “I love you, Marjie.”

  “Love you too.”

  I ended the call, feeling as if my whole world was getting ready to collapse. I could pretend this trip was my attempt at locating my mother, but only I knew there was more to it than that. If something went wrong and I somehow ended up dead, how would he ever know what became of me?

  How would he cope with the loss of his only child?

  Somehow, someway, I needed to make sure that my life wouldn’t end without making sure Dad had some closure. I owed him that much.

  Chapter Ten

  With Gage by my side, I managed to make it to the first floor office where Kyran was recovering after his ordeal, relying only on my crutches. I found him sitting on one of the couches, feet spread wide, and bent at the waist with his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

  “Kyran?”

  Marquis and Simone—who’d been keeping Kyran company—exited the room the moment I walked in, to give us some privacy, closing the door behind them.

  “Kyran?” I tried again when he didn’t look up at me.

  “I’m fine,” he whispered. His shoulders were tense. His fingers dug into his temple and as I approached, I could see blood had stained his shirt.

  This Kyran wasn’t the one I’d grown accustomed to seeing. This broken, tired version of him was the very image of defeat and endurance all wrapped up in one single being. I couldn’t understand how he was even sane enough to carry on a conversation at times. Forced to do unimaginable things in order to cope.... How was it that he hadn’t gone overboard yet?

  The fact that he was a functional being most of the time spoke volumes for his resolve. Had it been me, I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago. When I awoke two days after the accident to find that Angela would never walk again, I wallowed in my depression for weeks. Living as Kyran did—I was nowhere near strong enough for that.

  I hurried to the couch and leaned the crutches against the side table. He looked so defeated, a nearly overwhelming sense of nurture came over me, and I suddenly needed to touch him. Comfort him. Assure him I wasn’t disgusted, nor was I terrified of him in any way.

  Capturing his chin in my hand, I forced his head up so that we could meet eye to eye. He didn’t try to fight me. Didn’t try to argue. Made no move to send me on my way. Instead, he lifted his head, dropping his hands down to his thighs as he straightened his back.

  With more confidence than I felt, he glanced up and met my gaze. Blood smeared his upper lip, and collected just below his nostrils, but it was the resignation that pooled in his eyes that forced my heart to break into a million pieces.

  I’d seen a part of him he didn’t want me to see, and now he had to face me. I wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but the doubt I could read in his eyes had me wondering all kinds of things.

  “How do you feel?” Spotting a box of tissues on the table to his right, I reached for a couple and gently wiped the blood off his upper lip.

  Kyran’s eyes never left my face. “My skull feels as if it’s trying to break free of my skin.”

  I dipped my head, not really knowing how to respond to that.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Kyran?” I tossed the sullied tissue papers in the trash bin next to the table and grabbed a couple more. “Why are you always trying to hide so much of you?”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  He patiently allowed me to wipe away the blood on his face.

  “You know you are,” I countered, shaking my head as I stared down at him. “I don’t want to be left out anymore.” I tossed the soiled tissue paper in the trash bin before taking a seat to his left.

  His eyes didn’t follow me this time. “Now you know more than you signed up for.”

  “I get that that’s not an image you wanted me to have of you, but after everything we’ve been through...does it really matter if I know not only about this, but the rest too?”

  His current condition. The episodes of self-mutilation—the details of which I didn’t know and didn’t want to know—were just another secret revealed. Another truth unwillingly brought to the surface. Everyone had their dark side. Kyran was no exception.

  Even the moon only shows one side, keeping the rest of its sphere hidden from our eyes every night. Except, like a spaceship orbiting the moon to look at the dark side, all of Kyran’s sides had been exposed.

  “I guess it really doesn’t anymore,” he replied.

  Instinctively, I glanced down at his arms, looking for any signs of injuries, but there were no signs of self-mutilation anywhere. Of course, I didn’t think there would be. He could self-heal almost instantly.

  Even when there were no visible marks, I began to wonder about things I probably shouldn’t have. It got to me, knowing he went through hell and back each and every week. How severe could the pain be in order for it to force him into self-harming himself? I didn’t think I could stomach that much truth. Wondering and knowing were two different things. What I knew already made my insides twist and knot the more I continued to think about it.

  “I truly get it now,” I whispered, reality finally setting in. All those times Alexis and Gage warned me to stay clear of Kyran—it made perfect sense now. They weren’t being controlling; they were trying to save us from a fate that would ruin us both.

  “Finally.” He looked at me. Kyran actually appeared relieved to have all his sins put on the table for me to see. “It’s all out there in the open. You know what I’ve done. What I’m responsible for. There’s nothing else I’m hiding. Now you know I’m less than perfect.”

  “I already knew that.” Had come to suspect there was something wrong with him from day one, actually.

  His lips curved up into a sad smile. “I guess you did. I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

  “No. Not all,” I agreed with him. Meeting his gaze, I added, “Now we can move on past all of this.”

  “Move past this?”

  “Well, I mean...I don’t have to wonder anymore. I know everything there is to know,” I declared. “It’s not like I have to speculate or make up crazy scenarios in my head that don’t even make sense.”

  “My life would qualify as an abnormality,” he stated.

  I knew what he was getting at, but I wasn’t about to allow him
to bully me into seeing him any differently than I had so far. Though his secrets were beyond shocking, and a part of me was still somewhat numb inside, I understood he wasn’t responsible for his actions.

  “It’s one thing to do something while you’re fully aware of doing it. It’s an entirely different thing to go through something when you can’t control your impulses.”

  “Are you excusing my behavior?” he asked, though his voice gave no indication he was in any way upset.

  It was hard to take in, knowing his suffering went well beyond a physical need, but I had to keep in mind there were things I couldn’t control even if I wanted to. Apparently, neither could Kyran.

  “No. I’m not. I’m just calling it as it is.”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting things.” He sat back, breaking eye contact with me.

  I fought the urge to bite my lip. “You’ve said it many times before, Kyran. It’s not glamorous but it’s your life. You’ve dealt with your ups and downs the only way you knew how. I only wish you’d had enough confidence to talk to me about it. I’m tired of being filled in by others.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Would knowing it sooner make it any less... depressing?”

  I gaped at him. “No.”

  If anything, I was left more confused. I wasn’t sure how I felt or needed to feel. He obviously didn’t want my pity, but I was unsure as to how I should approach the subject in a way that wouldn’t make either of us uncomfortable.

  Instead, I opted for a different approach. “I can help make it better... I want to.”

  He turned away. “No. You’ve already made your decision. I don’t want what happened to influence it.”

  “It hasn’t. My decision hasn’t changed. I’m just...I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  His expression went from passive to aggressive in a snap of the fingers.

  “This is why I didn’t want you to know.” He made to stand but I grabbed on to his arm.

  “I’m not letting you do this, Kyran.”

  “Do what?” He spared a glance in my direction.

  “Get your way. Not this time. I’m doing this whether you want me to or not.” I wasn’t about to beg him to let me help him. He’d been more than willing to use force when I said I wanted to go home. Now, I was giving him the same options he gave me.

  “You’re going to make a big deal out of this, aren’t you?” For a second, he resembled the Kyran I met weeks ago—the one carrying the huge chip on the shoulder every hour of every day, but his sneer disappeared the moment I challenged him with a look of determination.

  “You bet I am. I already called Bray and he should be here in the morning.”

  Kyran’s gaze fell to my hand, which rested firmly on his forearm. A look of resignation darkened his features.

  “There are no guarantees I’ll be cured.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why risk it?”

  “Because I want to. Consider it a gift.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “How do you know it won’t?”

  “It’s just a feeling.”

  I got it. Because his other means hadn’t work, he wasn’t at all confident my way would work either. There was a fifty percent chance he was right. But there was also a fifty percent chance he could be proven wrong.

  “We’ll just have to take the risk anyway.” I moved in closer.

  Taking his face in my hands, I pressed my lips to his. It took a moment for Kyran to respond, but in no time at all, I found myself accommodated on his lap with my arms wrapped around his neck. Forgotten was everything we’d just discussed. Pushed aside was each and every doubt that invaded my train of thought. With our bodies pressed so intimately together, I could only concentrate on the way each cell in me seemed to come alive with each stroke of Kyran’s tongue.

  A stolen moment. A brief interlude to remind us that whether or not the bond was an influence, something greater than either of us could possibly end up understanding brought us together. Acceptable or not, there was no denying the attraction. The desire. One kiss was enough for me to confirm he could drive me insane in more ways than I cared to count. I was slowly incited into the still unknown world of lust and passion with strategic encouragement on his part, but by the way he groaned and pulled me as close to him as we could get, it was safe to say he wasn’t immune to me any more than I was to him.

  As he intensified the kiss, his hands exploring up my spine, I came to the conclusion that we may have no control over how our lives intertwined with one another’s, but it was up to us to make our own future—even if it was under uncertain terms.

  I buried my hands in his long hair, pushing all thoughts away. All that was really needed were a few moments to enjoy the jolt of awareness that coursed through me. Even the air in my lungs hitched in my throat as I gave into my needs and pressed myself against Kyran, savoring the feel of his lips as they worked with mine. I relished the warmth spreading throughout places of my body I was only conscious of whenever he touched me.

  It was heavenly to be doted on like this.

  It was also very dangerous.

  Things were getting out of hand. I could sense it the moment I began to hope he’d take things further, caress me in places I’d never been touched. Temperatures were rising. Hands were amply exploring away without a care.

  I knew we had to break apart, but I didn’t encourage him to stop. Nor did I try to.

  Ever mindful of our limits, Kyran pulled back first, resting his forehead against mine.

  “Take all the time you need to find yourself, Marjorie. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  Hours ago, my choices were set and little to no doubts lingered in the back of my head, but it was becoming clear that putting distance between us was going to cost me a lot more than I’d anticipated.

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Like I said before, I don’t like that you’re leaving, or that everything that’s happened has caused you to doubt our bond, but I understand why you’ve made this decision.”

  My hands roamed over his shoulders, trailing a path down his arms. I didn’t open my eyes. I just sat there with our foreheads touching.

  “Be here when I get back,” I pleaded.

  A boisterous voice coming from just beyond the door of the living room interrupted Kyran’s reply. By the heavy Italian accent, I identified its owner as Dario, the estranged yet charismatic werewolf friend of the family.

  “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

  Kyran helped me to my feet before standing up himself.

  “Knowing Dario, he’s probably just anxious to share another one of his stupid stories.”

  I shook my head. “He’s not that bad.” Or was he? I didn’t really know the guy, but he appeared like a fun type.

  “That’s because you haven’t spent more than a few minutes with him.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but my phone began to vibrate. Assuming it was a call from Dad, I retrieved my cell from my sweatshirt’s pocket and looked at the screen. I was shocked to see the name that popped up...Angela.

  “I have to take this,” I said, looking up at Kyran.

  “All right. Let me see what’s going on out there.”

  He walked out a moment later, affording me some privacy.

  I waited until he was out of the room, having closed the door on his way out, before pressing the green button on my screen. I put the receiver to my ear and answered with, “Angie?”

  A call from my childhood friend, Angela, was completely out of the ordinary. She hadn’t called me in a while. Hadn’t paid me a visit once during the week I’d spent at the hospital. We hadn’t been on friendly terms since she had developed an interest in Kyran and later became jealous of the fact that he favored me. Because she was stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, she didn’t consider herself up to par with me, unsuitable to compete for his affection, but she didn’t know nor could she possibly come
to understand what brought Kyran and me together in the first place.

  She had distanced herself from our group of friends because of this, putting a definite wedge between us. We had once been a happy group of four. Tracy, Rosa, Angela, and I had been inseparable for years. We went through a lot together. Had grown up as best friends. We even made stupid decisions as if possessing one mind, but that was probably over now. With Angela distancing herself from us, and my uncertain future, it was hard to say whether or not I could ever go back to how things were.

  What bothered me the most was how quickly Angela had begun to hate me. She went from being my best friend, to a total stranger in like a day. Since then she had stopped texting, calling, and even visiting, which to me sent a very clear message. Tracy and Rosa had both mentioned they hadn’t heard from Angela either, she hadn’t been to classes since that last Friday before the event with Santos.

  “Marjorie? Hey. How are you doing?” Her voice sounded oddly enthusiastic. I didn’t know how to interpret her zest. She certainly hadn’t been this nice to me in what appeared to be weeks. Or had it been days? Time had lost its meaning since the whole thing with Santos blew over.

  “I’m doing good.” I turned my attention to the door at the sound of Kyran’s voice. I waited, anticipating his entrance, but the door didn’t open. “How are you?” I asked, refocusing on our conversation.

  “Great. I’m great. Listen, I was calling because I wanted us to get together.”

  This was totally out of character—for the new Angela that is. The old Angela would have apologized for her harsh behavior over a slice of pizza and a diet coke.

  “Really?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  The sound of murmurs at Angela’s end of the line invaded my eardrum, but I couldn’t identify the voices or what they were saying. It didn’t sound like a woman’s voice, which I would expect considering Angela lived with her mother, but I kind of sensed it was a man doing the whispering.