by Dori Lavelle
Don’t let it be a snake, please.
Owen halted me with a squeeze on the side of my stomach where his hand rested. “We don’t have to go any deeper. Let’s make a home here.”
“Okay,” I squeaked. I looked back at the entrance. The cave had swallowed us, enough that Alvin would not be able to see us immediately if he peered inside. Something snapped beneath my foot—a dry bone. I stepped back.
Please don’t let it be human. Anything but that.
Several more littered the cave, partially buried under dirt, twigs, and debris.
“Hey, don’t be scared,” Owen said. “We’ll be out of here in no time. My foot should be ready to go by morning.”
Morning? Another night in the jungle from hell? I flushed at my selfish thoughts. Owen was hurt and I was putting my fears ahead of his safety.
Shame flushed my cheeks. “We can stay as long as you need.”
“No more than one night. I promise.” He fished his pen knife from his pocket and flicked on the light, shining it around the space.
My shoulders sank with relief. No snakes or other animals in sight.
“Home, sweet home,” Owen murmured. “Keep us from harm.”
We spent the next few minutes making the cave more livable and less terrifying. We used foliage to sweep away bones, dead leaves, twigs, and muck from the space we planned to occupy. For the second time in my life, I helped create a bed from natural resources.
Owen rested the flashlight against the wall of the cave and leaned back, his injured foot propped up on a stalagmite. I reached for the bag and removed a bottle of water, a tin of sliced pineapple, and packets of beef jerky. The encounter with the snake had been terrifying, but finding water was worth it.
Once we’d split the food between us, we turned off the light and ate in the dark, just in case Alvin walked by and saw the light.
My eyes didn’t leave the entrance, and I kept my ears open for any sound that slipped between the chirping crickets and scuttling small animals. No footsteps, no voices. Nothing. Eventually I relaxed. The cave seemed the safest place after all.
Chapter Eleven
Owen lay on the makeshift bed with his hands behind his head. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the polluted air.
I lay next to him, feeling awkward but strangely safe. Yesterday, in the small shelter, we had to sleep with our bodies pressed together, but the cave gave us more space. Our bodies didn’t have to touch. Except we couldn’t move too far apart either, given we were sharing a blanket.
The chill of the night penetrated the blanket and cooled my skin.
“Goodnight.” I turned my back to Owen, wrapping my arms around my middle and bending my knees till they touched my stomach.
Owen shifted in response, moving closer. Closer still. His body now touched mine. His breath tickled the hairs at the back of my neck.
What was he doing? Was he looking for body heat? Would it be mean for me to move away?
I waited, my eyes squeezed tight, and pretended I was sleeping.
“Chloe,” he said, his whisper like velvet in the night. “Go on. Finish your story. Tell me what happened in your childhood. I’m ready to listen.”
My eyes fluttered open, my bottom lip between my teeth. This might be our only chance to talk without distractions. The time had come to tell him everything, to air my dirtiest laundry—in a cave in Jamaica. Maybe tomorrow he would look at me in a different light, or maybe he would respect me for being brave enough to open up.
“My real name is Kelly Pearson.”
Introducing him to my real name seemed the best place to start: I’d begin with the person who started it all.
“Okay… “ Surprise tainted his voice, but he didn’t say anything as he waited for me to continue.
I turned to face him. His breath now fanned my face. He smelled of beef and pineapple.
In the folds of the darkness, I found my strength and bravery.
“I changed my name before moving to Boca Raton.” I watched him, the shape of his face, the faint sparkle in his eyes. His expression remained hidden in the dark. So was mine. That was a good thing.
“What made you change it? Why does Miles think you deserve to die?”
I pressed my fingers against my eyes. “I wanted to leave the past behind, to live my life as someone else.” I lifted my hands. “I don’t know where to start. So much has happened.”
“Start with the truth.”
“Okay.” Anxiety twisted my gut. “Alvin was in the same class as me, but I didn’t know much about him… not at first. As far as most of us were aware, he was raised by a single mother.” I licked my lips, tasting pineapple. “Remember when you told me you were bullied in school?”
“Yes.” Questions hid between the letters of the small word.
“Alvin was too. Maybe that was the reason he felt he had to stand up for you.”
“I never knew that. He never said.”
Of course he didn’t; he had left a lot of things unsaid, just like I had. We had both been living a lie. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you all this.”
“I want to know. Why does he hate you so much? I don’t believe you really tried to kill him.”
“I used to be editor of the school paper. We had a column that featured students every couple of weeks—interesting stories about them and their families that no one knew about. In the last column before graduation, I featured Alvin.” I rubbed my temples. “In my search for interesting things about him, I came across something about his mother.” I paused, listening to my heart beating. One. Two. Three. “Alvin’s mother was HIV-positive.”
A sharp intake of breath came from Owen. He didn’t comment. Though our bodies were no longer pressed together, mine remembered the tension in his muscles. I felt the strained expression on his face.
“I was stupid… I thought it would make a great story, something that would really create a buzz.” Guilt consumed me from within.
“You outed his mother in the school paper? You told the whole school?” Owen’s voice was rougher now—raw, accusing. “Are you telling me you did the exact same things back then that you do now with Sage?”
I drew slow, shallow breaths, trying to calm my heart rate. If only I could stop there, and instead focus on how much I regretted my actions.
No, Chloe. Say it all. He deserves to know.
“That’s not all.” The words came flooding out before I could lose my courage. “After his mother found out about the article, and pretty much the whole town knew, she did not take it well. She—she killed herself.” Tears poured down my face now, boiling in my eyes and spilling over. “On the last night before I was about to leave for college, I was driving with my friends... going to the movies. On an isolated road, Alvin showed up. He had a gun. He threatened to shoot me. He blamed me for his mother’s death.” Of course, I blamed myself too.
Owen sat up. His hair rustled as he buried his hands in it. “Christ,” he breathed. “Unbelievable.”
“I thought he was going to do it, Owen. I thought he would kill me. I was terrified.”
“What happened next?” The sound of his voice told me he already knew what I was about to say.
Speak fast; get it out in the open. Do it now.
“I ran him over. My friends and I buried him in a shallow grave, and we left.”
“You left him to die?” Owen leaned against the rough walls of the cave, eyes on me. His gaze touched my skin, drilling into my flesh, piercing my soul.
“We thought he was dead, I swear.” I sat up as well. Tears slid down my cheeks, falling onto my hands. I faced him, ready to explain. As though he was the only person who could save me from my sins.
“Apparently not.” Owen’s anger and disappointment echoed off the walls.
“I know. I had no idea.” I rested a hand on my chest. “I never forgot one second of what happened that night.” With that, my confession came to a screeching halt. I had run out of steam, out of courage.
I took a few breaths, counted to ten, and ended my speech with the only thing I could say, the most important revelation of all. “The monster Alvin is today… it’s what I made him thirteen years ago.” My heart shattered inside my chest as I waited for his response. I cared. I cared about what he thought.
Was he disappointed? Angry? Both? “Please say something, Owen.”
Owen shook his head several times, then ran a hand through his hair again. “Let me get this straight. Alvin survived and pretended to be someone else until he got his revenge?”
I didn’t respond. He had all the answers. Perhaps repeating things helped him come to terms with the ugly truth.
“If that’s the case, why did he pretend to love you? Why did he spend all that time with you, propose to you? He mentioned you two are married now. Is that true?”
I clasped my hands in my lap. “Yes, we got married the first night we arrived on the yacht. We had left Boca Raton intending to elope.” My hands covered my hot cheeks. “Alvin used Miles to make me happy, to give me everything, so he could enjoy taking it away from me later… to see my pain when I lost it all. That's why he pretended. He vowed to kill all of us—me and my friends—on our wedding days, when we were happiest. He already killed two of them. I’m next.”
Owen swiped a hand across his mouth, his stubble crackling. “This is so fucked up, all of it. He’s a murderer that lived a lie, just as you did.”
His words slammed into me, cutting my heart open with their truth. But I needed him to understand. “What I did was wrong. If I could take everything back, I would.” I closed my eyes, squeezing out the remaining tears. “I understand if you’re disgusted with me. If you want to leave now, I will not stop you.”
Chapter Twelve
The cave was silent except for our breathing. Owen had not spoken for what felt like an hour. His head was bowed. The longer he stayed silent, the more I feared he would no longer want anything to do with me. I was disgusted by myself, by what I had done. Why wouldn’t he be? Why wouldn’t anyone? This was just the beginning. I had to get used to people shunning me because of my actions.
Finally he lifted his head. In the darkness, his eyes sparkled more than before. “I seriously don’t know what to say to you. This is like something out of a movie.” He gave a short laugh and shrugged. “If everything you told me is true, I can’t even begin to explain my shock right now. I feel sorry for what Alvin went through: being hit by a car, losing his mother like that... the HIV. No wonder he went off the rails.”
I had not even told him about the possibility of me having HIV. Would I ever be able to? Just thinking about the three letters caused my throat to close up.
Then don’t. Don’t think about it now. He doesn’t have a reason to know.
“If you want to leave, it’s really fine. Honestly, I don’t want to be with myself right now.”
“As I told you before, I’m not going anywhere. But I won’t lie.” He scratched his chin. “I’m shocked by what you did. It was damn stupid. You were a dumb kid who didn’t get it. Your actions were wrong. But I’m finding it hard to understand something. How can you go from what happened in your past, from exposing people’s secrets then with devastating consequences, and still be able to run a magazine like Sage? How did you do it?” The anger in his voice had lightened.
“As a child I suffered from such low esteem. I craved validation. I wanted people to accept me, to love me. When I started writing the articles, I became someone people saw. They spoke to me. They wanted to be friends. It’s stupid, I know that now. But after college, I thought maybe it was the only thing I was good at.”
“Publishing stories that shock and hurt people? For crying out loud, Alvin’s mother killed herself because of your actions. How could you continue? Your magazine ruins lives every day.”
“Alvin’s mother was innocent, but to make myself feel better about Sage, I told myself I was only exposing bad people.” I curled my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “But every time I published a story, it hurt me too. I found it hard to enjoy my success. Only… I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t stop.”
“Why not? Was it the money?”
“No. I lived for the acceptance, the validation, the success. I needed it so much. I kept going, continued to dig my hole until it was so deep I couldn’t climb out.” I rocked myself back and forth.
Owen did not reach out for me, but somehow his comfort made its way to me from a distance.
He was condemning my actions, not me.
Why did I care what he thought, anyway?
Owen cleared his throat. “How do you feel about it now? After everything that’s happened, what’s going through your mind, right this second?”
I shrugged. “I... I feel that things can’t stay the same. I can’t do it. I don’t have the stomach for gossip anymore after fully grasping what it did to Alvin... the tragic ripple effect. If I survive this, I’ll leave it all behind. I’ll get out of the business. I wish I could rewrite history, make better decisions.”
“Shhh… The past is the past. Thankfully he didn’t die. And realizing your mistakes is a step in the right direction.” Owen reached out now and touched my hand. His hand was warm, his fingers rough against my skin. “To me, you’ll always be Chloe, not Kelly.”
“Thank you. Chloe is the only person I want to be.” My lips quivered with relief. “I’m sorry you lost Miles. I know how close you two were. He loved you like a brother.”
Owen drew me into a hug. “I’m sorry you lost the man you loved,” he whispered into my ear. My skin tingled at the caress of his breath.
Within our embrace, we shared each other’s pain.
After holding on to each other for a while, I broke our contact. “I still think Miles is a good man. Alvin is not… not anymore, but Miles is. I don’t think he approves of what Alvin is doing.”
“What do you mean?”
“While Alvin tortured me on the yacht, sometimes Miles came out. Well, his personality. He never stayed long, but when he did, he took care of me. He fed and washed me. He comforted me, like the man we both knew and loved. “
“You mean Miles is fighting against Alvin?”
“I think he’s trapped inside. But Alvin is dominant.”
Owen groaned. “This multiple personality disorder thing is fucked up. I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
“I know. It took me a while to get used to two people inside one body. I’m angry with Alvin, but I’m also terrified that Miles could end up paying for everything Alvin is doing.”
“Alvin belongs in a mental institution. He needs help.” Owen’s voice rose above a whisper. “How did I not see this coming? Miles seemed so normal. He ran the company flawlessly. How could this happen?”
“I don't know.” I inhaled. “And you’re right, he does need help. But I don’t think Alvin will allow himself to get locked up.”
“You could be right. He’s too far gone.” Owen touched my hand again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How do you feel about him now? Do you still love Miles?”
A hard question to answer. “The part of me that used to love him is crushed and unrecognizable even to me. All I feel for him now is pity.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time dawn made an entrance, I was awake and lying quietly with my eyes on the opening of the cave that had saved us.
Owen was still asleep, and I didn’t feel the need to wake him yet.
We were still well hidden, and I wanted to enjoy a moment to myself, before everything got crazy again. Fresh, untainted morning air wafted inside. I inhaled deeply, banishing the musty cave from my lungs, drawing in the scents of the ocean, flowers, and freedom.
Freedom. We had not escaped yet, but I was free for now. In fact, I had been free for a couple of hours. That was something to be grateful for. The dungeon was far away. If there was something I had learned from all of this, it was to grasp each moment and
take what I could from it, to find the little joys and hold them with both hands before they slipped away. To live in the moment, however fragile it was. This was my fragile moment, my sliver of peace. I held it firmly inside my heart, before it crumbled and blew away in the winds of fate.
The whole night I had expected Alvin to burst into the cave and find me asleep next to Owen. To drive us apart with a bullet—or several—in each of our heads.
Owen stirred and turned to his side, facing me. He reached for his glasses, which lay on the sack, and put them on.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good,” I said. “How’s your ankle?” I sat up. My body still hurt, but the intense itching on my back signified that the cuts there were healing. The aches would stay with me for a while, but strength was more important than pain.
Owen sat and moved his foot a bit. A small smile made his mouth twitch. “I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“Better safe than sorry.” I studied his face. “Are you sure you can walk again? I don’t mind waiting a couple more hours for you to feel completely fine.”
He reached for the last packet of beef jerky and handed me some. “Chloe, I’m fine. Anyway, I have to be. We can’t hide out here forever. He will show up eventually.” Chewing, he eyed his foot. “I’ll just bind it up and it will be ready to go.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
“You are aware that we don’t have any elastic bandages, right?” I rummaged inside the bag, hoping to find something of use. Nothing but empty packets of food and water bottles.
Owen lifted his arms above him and removed his t-shirt. He tore it into two strips, giving me a satisfied look. “When you don't have a bandage, you make a bandage.”
“Oh.” I almost choked on my food. A strange sensation crawled up and down my spine as my gaze swept over his muscular body, the slabs of stone that were his stomach, the compass tattoo on the right bicep. How ironic.
