Page 43 of Irreversible

God…itcan’t.

But everything inside me shrivels with realization, with understanding, with soul-numbing pain.

And I know that it does.

“What was her name?”

“Could be anything. Make one up.” The usual bite to his voice is gone, leaving something brittle.

“Was it Sara?” The words unfurl so softly, I’m not sure he hears me. Especially after a handful of heartbeats go by.

Five.

“There are lots of Saras in the world, Beverly without the B.”

I close my eyes as the tears fall, and I imagine Sara on the other side of this wall. Sara, with the sweet, angelic voice. Sara with a heart so vivid and pure, alive with songful beats. She was as close as I’d come to hearing music in a long time.

Nick goes quiet.

I feel his pain as deeply as I feel my own, even with this barrier between us. It’s tangible. Heartbreaking.

And I’m not sure if my next words will only make it worse, or if they will offer a glimmer of solace through the darkness that closes us in.

I clutch the precious pick inside my hand and whisper softly, “She sang for me, too.”

10

“What did you want to be when you grew up, Nick?”

It’s just one of a thousand subjects Everly has been curious about since I woke up chained in this room a couple of weeks ago. Telling her that thinly veiled story about Sara was strangely cathartic, and after that, I began tolerating her conversations more often.

Now, this stolen woman trapped in a cell the size of a goldfish bowl knows me better than almost anyone alive.

It’s been a difficult adjustment, going from being an intensely private, constantly busy man, to this. Who’d have thought I’d have lasted this long? Not me.

I still have no fucking clue why they’re keeping me.

In preparation for my eventual escape, my days are spent exercising as much as my slowly healing body will allow, while absorbing all the information I can from the girl next door. Never spoken so many words in my damn life. Can’t say I’m great at it, but I’m learning to play nice.Mostly.It’s easy enough; a few words here and there from me equals another hour from her. She just doesn’t realize mine consist of vague truths and artful dodging, carefully crafted to protect my identity and keep anyone from getting too close.

Building walls is what I do best, after all. Ironic that when I finally begin to reveal bits of myself, it’s from behind one.

And yet, she still doesn’t know my name.

As for the question about my childhood aspirations, I take the excuse to pause a painfully slow set of push-ups, resting my knees on the floor while I give her a winded answer. “I don’t know…I guess I figured I’d either save the world or destroy it. Typical kid stuff.” Truthfully, the only thing I ever wanted to be was a detective. Sherlock Holmes was my hero. Also, Batman. “How about you? Did you always want to take pretty pictures for strangers to jerk off to?”

“You make it sound like porn.”

She laughs it off as a crude joke, but I remember that swimsuit ad from my research. Doesn’t take much for someone with a good imagination.

“Actually, my career was a complete accident,” she continues. “Right place, right time. It was flattering; I figured I’d take a few pictures, walk a runway or two, and earn some extra cash to help with college loans, but I guess big, frizzy hair is the ‘in’ thing. Shockingly, it took off.”

“A college girl, eh?” She’s still young, in her mid-twenties, I believe. I hadn’t really thought about her life outside of what I saw.

“Yeah, the excitement of modeling pulled me in, but growing up, I always thought of myself as a nerd. Science is my first love.”

“Beauty and brains. I approve.” I picture Everly with her big tits and floofy hair in a lab coat and hot-teacher glasses, and the feeling in my lower body reminds me I’m not that far removed from the teenage boy I once was.

Yeah…nerdy girls do it for me.

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