Page 28 of Irreversible

6

There might have been a Sara…

Those words sear into my brain until everything blurs, and I don’t hear anything else the girl has to say. She should be glad there’s a wall between her and the violence simmering in my veins. It’s just more proof of the phrase I heard too often growing up: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

After all, I am the Devil’s spawn. I wasn’t allowed to forget that.

My swollen eyes rise to that little red light in the corner of the ceiling. It blinks with smug laughter, reminding me I have an audience, like I’m a mildly interesting bug in a reinforced jar.

She washere.

And now she isn’t.

With that thought, the control I’ve been grasping with all the strength in my bloody fists disintegrates, and I erupt. “You motherfucking bastards. Fuck you.FUUUCK YOOOU.”I slam the chain against the tile, the cot, the wall, my voice roaring in my ears as it rips through the room. Even with my vocal cords ready to give out, and all my broken parts screaming in protest, I don’t stop.

This rage is for more than my captor; it’s for every person who dismissed my instincts.

And it’s for me.

“Son of a bitch. You fucking—” I can barely hear myself anymore, my senses drowned out by the pounding of my heart. My head. My wrath.

If I could spew fire, I’d burn this goddamn place to the ground with myself at the center, and God knows what would be left of me when it burns out. Maybe I’ll turn into a pillar of ash and crumble to nothing. Maybe I should be so fucking lucky.

I scream until ragged breaths heave from my lungs.Until my limbs are as useful as cold ramen noodles weighted by iron chains and my chest caves under the hollow reality of failure.

After years of fighting for justice, I’m reduced to ranting harmlessly in a cell while an insanebusinessmanplays games with countless lives. Because, for the six-hundred-and-seventy days I’ve been tracking these disappearances, my gut has told me they were all connected.

Turns out,I’ve been right.

“Fuck!” Spinning toward the wall, I slam my palms against it, again and again. They sting like I’ve smacked a nest of bees and the strain on my shoulder is enough to make my vision blur, but it’s nothing compared to what she went through.

If I could spare her now, I’d gladly switch places. Take every bit of pain and fear and compound it times a hundred. Drown me in it for eternity. I deserve it. I’ve earned it.

I was born for it.

But Sara…

I’m pretty sure she was an angel, put on this earth as a balance for the darkness I was created from. She invaded my stone-cold world, bringing light, compassion, and music. Enough to fill the abyss that exists inside me—or at least, patchit enough to allow me to breathe for the first time. I would have self-destructed years ago if she hadn’t stepped in.

Then she was ripped away, and it was my fault.

With my arms braced against the wall as I catch my breath, I notice its condition—chipped and dented, the once-white paint scratched and discolored. How many people have scraped at, beat on, and mumbled their last confessions through this wall?

Turning my back, I slide down until I collapse on the floor, letting the heavy chains clank against the tile. My hands shake with the need for a cigarette. I let my head thunk backward lightly.

If I’m being honest with myself, what I’m really craving is something stronger.

Seems safer to admit now that I’m trapped in here with no way to access my poison of choice. But it still feels something like blasphemy.

Like I’m spitting on her unmarked grave…wherever it is.

A long exhale hisses from between my teeth. I’ve been empty inside for so long, this spark of hope aches worse than the hollow reality I came to terms with a long time ago.

See, I’ve known she’s dead. I’m not some starry-eyed family member holding out hope that my loved one will be found alive and in one piece after years. Being a detective has a way of squelching that naïve positivity early on, and I was never that optimistic to begin with. This has always been about finding the guy who did it and enacting justice.

Until the moment the girl on the other side of this wall told me her name.

Tap, tap, tap.

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