Page 3 of The Shadows We Keep

But when I turn around and take in the floor to ceiling windows that look out tohisbuilding, I can’t find a reason to care. My feet move me to the glass. The sun shines brightly, filling the room with a warm afternoon glow. I’m sure anyone who had the inclination to take in my apartment from afar would have a clear view. Curtains are at the top of my list.

I wasn’t so lucky in my quest to suss out his apartment’s floor the other day as I stood outside, but the wonderful thing about being a road’s width away is I have all the time in the world. If it takes befriending someone in the building to gain access, so be it.

ONE

HARKIN

Flux Pavilion’s - Cracks

One year later…

Full, heavy clouds litter the jet-black sky. The impending storm is rolling in faster than they’d predicted, and we need to get down the mountain before the rain falls. Gripping my keys tighter, the bite of the teeth digs into my palm as her footfalls follow behind me. The gravel crunches as we round the trunk of my car.

“Just get the fuck in,” I snap.

“I wasn’t ready to leave. And you can’t drive. You’ve had too much to drink.” Her whining grates on my nerves. I hate this side of her. The drunk party girl that never knows when to quit until her tongue is down someone else’s throat.

Ignoring her, I swing the driver’s side door open and stare through the tinted windshield, right as the first fat plop of a raindrop hits the glass. Fuck.

“I’m sorry.” Her demeanor switches as she falls into the passenger’s seat, rubbing the chill from her exposed skin. “I didn’t mean to.”

I sigh. She never means to, yet somehow, it always happens. I’m tired of it. Tired of the constant, accidental cheating because she can’t help herself once the booze or the drugs race through her system. If I didn’t love her as deeply as I do, I could walk away, but that isn’t us.

At that very moment, the sky opens, rain pelts against the car. The roads are going to be a nightmare as the water collects on the asphalt and runs downhill.

“It’s fine. Put your seatbelt on.”

She curls into a ball, pulling her knees to her chest. I twist the knob up, the heat blows in her direction, and I shift into drive. The roads are slick, glossed over with black streams. Thankfully, there’s no one else on the two-lane road coming up the mountain at this hour. I grip the steering wheel tight as the tires shift over the solid white line indicating the very narrow shoulder.

Twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes and we’ll be back on flat ground and my anxiety might subside.

“What’s that?” Alina murmurs, pointing forward in front of the car.

I don’t see it until it’s too late. The tree’s down across the whole road blocking our path. My foot collides with the brake, shoving it to the floor but with the water quickly rising, the tires lose traction and the car fishtails out of control. We stay on the road sliding from one side as I over correct and try to slow the car down, but it’s no use. The car’s pointed straight for…

Jolting up,I clutch the cool sheets around my waist. My body drips with sweat and the smell of it permeates around me.God Damnit.The dream rocks me as visions of that night swim through my head. But not the actual impact. Not our last moment together. The doctor said that was a normal trauma response. The brain’s way of protecting itself from the horror of the accident. But his scientific bullshit didn’t help the fact that within minutes I’d lost the one thing I’d loved most.

I need to shake this off or it’ll haunt me all day and the last thing I want is a repeat on my flight to California. That right there was easily the cause of the nightmare resurfacing after so many months without one. Back home, back to where it all happened. Where my parents expect me to act as though I didn’t take the life of a girl they expected me to marry and have two-point-five kids and a dog with.

They’re the only ones, though. Alina’s parents wanted to press charges. To test my blood for drugs or alcohol, because that would have been a better reason for the tragedy instead of the rain. I understood their need for restitution for the crime committed against their only daughter. But when you’re the son of a business mogul, it’s hard to make a case stick.

Throwing the bright white sheets to the floor, my muscles strain as I climb from the bed. Stretching every which way to loosen the pull of them. The ache in both knees means it’s going to rain or maybe it already is by the dull look out the half-covered windows. A shower should set things right.

The hot spray cascades down my body, the bass of Flux Pavilion’s,Cracksstreams through the speakers in the ceiling. Alina’s face pops into my head again. Tugging at my hair, my forehead falls to the stone tile.

“Fuck!” I grunt, feeling the emptiness inside me just as present as the day I awoke in the hospital to the news about Alina. I guess the shower didn’t do the trick this time.

Stepping up to the fogged mirror, I swipe my hand back and forth against the condensation, clearing a distorted view. Vacant eyes glance back at me, the dark circles under them a physical sign of my restless night. The man staring back at me sees every little thing that’s changed in me since her death.

The dark ink covering most of my skin camouflages the scars left behind by multiple surgeries to place bones back where they belong. The nose rings, the only viewable piercings passersby know about. My onyx hair’s grown out, the stubble against my chin longer than what’s deemed respectable. I’m not looking forward to the outright gawking from the people back home, especially my mother.

The alarm beeps with confirmation that it’s set. I heft my duffle bag over my shoulder and head for the street. The weather’s dreary as usual for this time of year. If I’m lucky, I’ll miss the rain and get to California where the weather is bound to be better than here in New York. Stepping out on to the street, I signal for a taxi. I’d take the subway, but I don’t have time to make the switches necessary from my place in Brooklyn.

My move to New York was the last straw for my parents, as if the steady growth tattoos covering my skin, pill popping, and alcohol abuse weren’t enough of a red flag that my head wasn’t on straight. I spent years spiraling into the dark abyss of depression, feeding it with anything that would numb my pain. I needed to get out of that town, where every turn reminded me of her. Where the friends we shared overburdened me with their love and support, then eventually drifted away at the sight of the mess I’d become.

There was nothing keeping me in California. I was no longer the carefree teenager, raised with a silver spoon shoved so far up my ass I couldn’t walk right. That privilege had always been second nature, nothing to think twice about. But after the accident, when the only consequences I faced were an aching body, damaged mind, and broken soul, I couldn’t stand it any longer. When I’d finally hit rock bottom, overdosing on the same shit I’d fought with Alina over time and time again, I packed my stuff and left. The last thing I took from my parents was the apartment I live in now.

The taxi pulls up to the curb in front of me. A small hand reaches past me for the yellow handle as I tug to open the door and slide in. I look over and freeze as recognition sets in, but it’s not possible. I shake my head, trying to expel the image of Alina in front of me. This isn’t happening. My mind is finally snapping. Maybe I should have toked up before heading to the airport to take the edge off today.

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