Page 180 of Haunt Me

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I was kind of hoping for a hug, but I’ll take the squeal. And the smiles, and the happiness that shines out of her eyes for the rest of the day.

We have the most perfect day, driving around in her new car and going to different bookstores. Meanwhile, all I can think about is how proud I am of her for driving and for walking into shops and browsing books casually, as if she has been doing it all her life. Because she hasn’t been doing it all her life, but if I start to think about that, I will start crying.

And while Eden was putting on her shoes, Faith and I decided that there would be no crying today. Zero. We made a pact. Well, by ‘pact’ I mean that she tried to bet me against it, but I nipped that idea in the bud.

The four of us go back home to put away two small mountains of books, and then Eden and I drive to the restaurant I have made the reservation at. Except that I am not going to let her drive us there, no matter how much she enjoys doing it.

She changes into a little black dress that comes down to just above her knees, and it’s perfect in its simplicity, because it lets her own beauty shine. I don’t know how I will ever take my eyes off this girl tonight.

I open the door for her and then sit behind the wheel. I try to drive calmly and act like a gentleman, even though the whole time I am gripping the wheel tightly and thinking to myself‘this is not a date this is not a date this is not a date’.

Walter, Faith, Manuela, Justin, their little son, and Pooh are waiting for us at the restaurant as a surprise, and I only teeny-tiny hate their guts for being there. Ruining our not-date. But the minute Eden sees them, she bursts out laughing. She hugs them all and looks so freaking happy that I feel guilty for resenting their presence. It’s the other way round; Eden needs them right now, and I am lucky to be included.

After our five-course meal, I play a private concert for them—just me and my guitar. I booked the whole restaurant, so it’s completely empty apart from us and the flowers. Finally, Eden stands and a hush falls over all of us.

“I know this is supposed to be my birthday—itismy birthday, I’ll get used to that, I promise,” Eden says. “But I wanted to give yousomething. It’s not a gift, so don’t get excited. And it’s for all of you. You are my family.”

She looks at me as she says the last part, then reaches into her bag and pulls out a phone. It’s outdated, almost analog. The minute I see it, I have to cover my mouth with my hand in order not to gasp out loud.

It’s her phone, isn’t it?

Her old phone.

The one that was entered into evidence at the trial.

And Eden got it back somehow, and is now giving it to us. So that we can read her texts. All the blood leaves my head, and I lean heavily on the table.

Faith takes the phone first, but her hands are shaking so badly she nearly drops it. Manuela cups her hands around her sister’s, but she doesn’t take it from her. They both hold it together.

“I couldn’t just leave it,” Eden says. “It’s my soul, it’s…” She makes a gesture towards me. “Isaiah knows what it is.”

“It’s you,” I say through a clogged throat. “As you were back then.”

Faith and I crowd over the tiny screen, as we open the texts Eden used to send to herself on this very phone. It reads*messages deleted*all the way down.

Then, one message is still left there:

I think I’m dying.

Immediately I look away. I can’t do this. Faith closes the phone and puts it on the table with a snap. She looks like she is going to be sick.

I know what day that was. It was the day Eden sneaked out for the very first time. She hurt her knee badly climbing out the window. She was bleeding, and she thought she was going to die from it. That monster had drilled it into her head that if she ever stepped outside her prison, she would die.

In the end, all it took to keep her in was fear. No other shackles were necessary.

And even when she left his house, she took the prison with her. She carried it in her head, with his words.

The whole table has gone dead silent.

“I took care of her,” a voice says. It sounds thin, like a wail.Wait. It’s my voice.I am the one talking. “She didn’t die,” I say. “She was ok, she was taken care of. I promise you, she was ok.”

“We know,” Faith replies, but I can’t hear her.

“She was ok, she was ok,” I keep repeating, until Walter stands up and grabs me by the back.

“Thank you, son,” he says and presses me hard against his chest for a second. “Thank you.”

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