Page 22 of White Rabbit

These days I found myself painting and drawing like a woman possessed…or was it obsessed? I couldn't seem to help myself as I attempted to capture his likeness on paper and canvas, in pencils, pastels, acrylic and oils, but nothing ever came close.

Every sketch, every painting, was missing something. I hadn’t been able to capture that dark spark, the thing that haunted my dreams and made me curious about him. He wasn’t even classically attractive, with his tattoos and scar, but he was compelling. Intriguing. Why was he always lingering in the back of my mind? Haunting me.

“Ava, babe. Are you alright?” Orla asks, stopping beside me as we try to catch our breaths. We’d decided to go for an early morning run around Port Ellesmere, since the views were nicer and it was closer to Orla’s apartment. For some reason, being closer to Newtown makes me think I’ll stumble upon something relating to Creed. I feel closer to him, his life, even though he’s back in Ogmore behind bars.

“So, you’ve been kind of absent lately…” She pulls out a water bottle from her bag and takes a controlled sip. Glancing at me strangely, as if on edge, she asks, “Are you…is everything okay?”

Bending over with my hands on my thighs, I inhale slowly. Am I okay? How do I answer that?

“I…I don’t know.”

Orla rubs the back of her neck, kicking at the dirt. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say it…”

Straightening, I begin to stretch and as my arms come down, a face ducking into an alleyway catches my attention.

“Andrew?” Frowning, I stand watching as my brother glances around anxiously and vanishes out of sight completely, but not before I notice the blood on his face. Before my brain even registers what I’m doing, I’m moving, running after him. Calling back over my shoulder, I yell, “Orla, I'm sorry. I need to speak to Andrew. I’ll call you! Andrew!”

Even though my body is already tired, the adrenaline keeps me going as I follow Andrew down another alley and along a quiet street.

“Andrew!” He doesn’t seem to hear me as he keeps going, running as if something other than me is chasing him. I mean, why would he run from me? “Andrew!”

I stay hot on his tail until he darts inside a warehouse, coming to a stop the other side of the door, and leans against a wall, throwing his head back with a pained grunt.

Finally catching up with him, I try to catch my breath. “Didn’t you hear me? What the hell happened to you?”

Where the hell were we? Looking around, we seem to be in a storage warehouse of some sort down on the docks. The space we were standing in was huge, and filled with crates. How have we run so far? We shouldn’t really be here. If someone came along, we could be in trouble for trespassing.

“Andrew?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing…” Reaching out, I place my fingers under his chin, lifting his face so I can see the damage. He’s got a broken nose, although the blood seems to have stopped gushing out.

Shoving my hand away, he wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his suit. “I said it’s fine Ava! God, you never listen.”

Why was he wearing a suit at half past seven in the morning? Was he only now on his way home? It had to be drug related. Why else would he be wandering around town with a broken, bloody nose in yesterday’s suit?

“I want to help you…”

Andrew rubs his head, smearing more blood on his face as he lets out a bitter laugh. “Ha! Then quit. Quit your shitty job and stop worrying Father.”

Swallowing, I stare at the man pacing before me. I don’t recognize him. This can’t be my brother, Andrew. The awkward, shy boy with the braces who was always so eager to make our parents happy. The teenager who cried in secret for a week behind his bedroom door when his dog died. The man who held my hand at Mom’s funeral and stood beside me as we dropped purple hydrangeas on top of her coffin.

No, this man is like a distressed animal. Cagey and snarling as his eyes darted around. A coiled-up bundle of anger, lashing out. I should have been paying more attention when he first started pulling away.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He scoffs, trying to glare at me, but his face is a mess of mottled bruising and dried blood as it swells. “You have no idea what the world is really like out here, Ava. You swan around, playing prison and painting pretty flowers, but really you haven’t got a fucking clue.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Andrew?” I stand in front of him with my hands on my hips. “Marry one of dad’s rich snobby friends? Stay home and pop out a few grandkids? Sorry for wanting my life to be more than that, for choosing things that make me happy.”

Shaking me off, he moves towards the door, before turning back around. He makes another dismissive noise as he paces back and forth. “Typical Ava. You always have to do things on your terms and don’t give a fuck about anyone else!”

“Please, just tell me what’s going on.” I keep my words quiet, and barely on the other side of begging. “Just explain to me how quitting my job will put an end to whatever is happening here.”

“Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” He makes angry hand gestures towards me as I step back, and for the first time, I think he might actually strike out and hurt me. Try to force me into quitting. Into being the perfect daughter. The docile sister.

Storming back towards the door again; he turns and spits out a mouthful of blood onto the concrete. “Stay the fuck away, Ava. I’m serious. If you follow me again, you won’t like what I do. Mind your own business.”

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