Page 22 of Shattered Echoes

Finally, I reach the crest of the hill, the familiar vista of Shadow's Bend sprawling out before me. The town stretches out like a patchwork quilt, houses nestled amongst the verdant expanses. This ridge used to be our special spot.

I smile as I reminisce about the days when Henry, Antonio, Leonardo and I would race up here, breathless with laughter. Leo's sister would sometimes join us, a vision of calm as she handed out snacks, and she made sure we stayed out of trouble.

She always did care about others more than she cared about herself.

I feel like such a horrible person every time I push thoughts of Rayla out of my mind, but the circumstances of her death had rattled me.

Henry told me what he could-which wasn’t much. Leonardo and Antonio, barely teenagers, had found her dead. In a way, everything had changed after that. Both boys went away, and that fragile peace we had was revealed for the lie it was.

Looking out over the town, I can’t hold back the thoughts of Rayla. She was always so kind to me. She was way older, so we didn’t really have a relationship, but I remember how good I used to feel around her.

“No way!” Antonio exclaimed.

“Yes, way,” Leo retorted. He had that knowing look in his eyes as he watched his kid brother daring him to contradict him.

“Prove it,” Henry chipped in.

Leo grinned and glanced back at the house. Then he unzipped his backpack and held it open for the other boys to have a look. I edged closer to catch a glimpse, but they shouldered me away.

“No way, you really did it!” Antonio said, laughing. “Dad’s absolutely going to find out, and he’s going to kill you.”

Leo shrugged. “No, he won’t. ‘Sides, I’m not scared. Well, are we going to stand here waiting to get caught? Or…”

Leo zipped the bag back and up and giggling among themselves, they took off running into the woods. As usual, no one asked me what I thought. They had a tendency to forget I existed most times. I took off after them, regardless.

We made our way up the familiar path to the cleft in the hill, our favorite spot. When I got to the top, I flopped onto the grass. They were much taller than me, and it was getting harder to keep up.

Leo unzipped his bag and handed cans of beer to Antonio and Henry, taking one for himself. He glanced at me, hesitating.

I frowned. “Well, I want one too.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “You’re too young.”

“I’m the same age as Antonio,” I protested. “And I want one…or I’m telling.”

They all frowned at me, but Leo tossed me a can. I opened my hands to catch it, and someone grabbed it out of the air. I glanced up, and Rayla was there, breathing hard.

Glaring at me, then the boys. She popped open the can and took a long drink, sighing with relief as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You lot,” she said playfully, “are in a world of trouble. I saw you scurrying up here and knew you were up to something. Hand it over.”

Leo groaned in frustration and hesitated, clutching his can of beer.

“You’re really going to make me tell on you?” she asked. “You’ve got the rest of your life to drink as much as you want. Just not under my watch. Hand. It. Over.”

The boys sheepishly passed her the cans, and she grabbed the backpack from the ground. She turned to leave. “I trust you guys can find some other things to do to keep you amused, right?”

She grinned, not waiting for their reply.

Sinking down onto the soft grass, I pull out a small flask from my jacket pocket. "I'm old enough now," I murmur with a sad chuckle, tipping it slightly to spill a few drops onto the earth for Rayla. "You won't be mad, right?"

The familiar burn of whiskey washes over my tongue as I take a sip. I know I shouldn't overindulge–that's a path I dare not tread again. But just a little, just enough to blur the haunting edges for a moment, to find a fleeting peace.

My gaze settles on the small white farmhouse nestled on the outskirts of town. I know that on the far wall there’s a painting of a dark violet butterfly ripped into two with wings aflame.

Old Duffie used to live there years ago, before his son moved him out to a home in the city. And now, his whitewashed walls have become a canvas for my dark art. A shudder wracks my body, and I quickly turn away, seeking solace in the landscape's beauty instead.

The late morning sun casts long shadows across the fields, painting the landscape in a palette of gold and ochre. In the distance, the hazy outline of the mountains paints a majestic backdrop. The sight momentarily erases the darkness within, offering a fleeting glimpse of peace.

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