Page 6 of Lock Me Out

As far as I know from the internet searches I’ve done at the library, there haven’t been any big stories about him going missing. The family must be keeping it quiet, which, of course, they’d do to keep their name out of the media. Not like they’re anything special, but they think they are. In our world, that’s enough.

No, not our world. Their world. I have a world of my own now, where what might have once been a big bedroom now serves as an entire studio apartment. A tiny sink, a two-burner stove, and an oven barely big enough to fit a plate inside serve as my kitchen. The bathroom is so small I can barely turn around without bumping into something, and the sofa doubles as my bed. I’m a lifetime away from the sprawling house I blew up seven months ago.

And I’m not the person I was back then, either. Going to the bathroom and catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror over the chipped, permanently stained porcelain sink is always a stark reminder. Not that I could ever forget—I can’t move my face the way I used to. It really sucks when I forget, and the tightness of my scar tissue reminds me I’ll never be normal again.

There’s no point in trying to avoid the sight of myself. Instead, I stop and stare straight at my reflection. The left side of my face is mostly what it used to be, but the right? It’s a map of twisted scar tissue, still a pale pink that I guess will eventually turn into a ghostly white. A monster, in other words. But then, I always was. Thinking back, going over every ugly thing I did at Dad’s command, it all helps me understand that my outside now matches my insides.

And it’s even worse than that. I can’t kid myself. When I look into my blue eyes, I see the eyes of someone who, if given the chance, would do everything the same. Because as much as I crave something to do, something to make me feel alive again, I crave Leni twice as much. Ten times as much. The feeling fills me, consumes me, makes me toss and turn in a cold sweat. Knowing where she is—with my brother—and that it would be so easy to go to her, to have her again, to satisfy every dark yearning.

Which is why I need to stay here. Away from her. Always.

4

COLT

I’ve stopped beingmy own person around school.

The rest of the world sees me as Colt Alistair, Leni’s boyfriend, not the kind of guy you want to fuck around with.

But when we get to school, I stop being me. Now, I’m the guy whose brother died. That’s the risk you take when you spend so much time with someone who happens to look a hell of a lot like you. People get used to seeing you together everywhere you go. Then all of a sudden, there’s only one of you, and every time they notice you’re alone, they remember why. They get this sad, almost embarrassed look on their faces.

It happens all the time, even months later. You’d think they’d get used to it by now, but it still feels fresh. At least now, no one says anything. I couldn’t handle more questions like, “How are you? Are you holding up? Is there anything I can do to help?”

So now, I don’t have to fight the urge to ask if they know how to bring people back from the so-called dead.

They wouldn’t believe me, anyway. I can’t even get Leni to understand, so why would a bunch of people I don’t care about, whose names I hardly remember, believe me? I used to care about the way I was seen around here. There was a time I enjoyed walking across campus, being recognized, waved at, invited to parties, and that kind of thing. It used to matter.

I barely remember being that person now.

The one bright spot in my life is the girl walking by my side. She’s a ray of light, almost like she carries her own personal sun inside her and glows from the inside out. I can’t believe I ever saw her the way I once did. I can’t believe it was ever so easy to hate her, to abuse her. Love changes everything.

But it hasn’t changed me. Not completely. There’s still a darkness deep inside. The impulse to remind her that she belongs to me when she smiles as we pass a group of people who call out to us. They don’t deserve her attention. Only I do.

It’s like she hears me as we walk, glancing up at me before color floods her cheeks. “What will you do between classes?” she asks, brushing a strand of red hair away from her face when a gust of wind teases it from her ponytail. The floral scent of her shampoo reaches me and soothes the worst of the boiling, swirling darkness that’s always just under the surface, threatening to consume me.

“I thought I would go to the library.”

The way she narrows her eyes before tipping her head to the side tells me she doesn’t exactly believe my answer. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately.”

“Have I?” I shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Better be careful.” She gives me a gentle nudge with her elbow, a playful smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “I might start thinking you’re meeting a girl in there.”

Coming to a stop at the intersection where one of the paths leads to the library, I turn to her and take her face in my hands. How is her skin so soft? “That’s one thing you never have to worry about.”

“I know. I’m only playing.” She closes her eyes before I press a kiss to her forehead, forcing myself to memorize the softness of her skin under my lips. How eager she is to accept affection. I carry that in my heart all the time, along with every little thing I’ve cataloged and memorized about her. Sometimes, those memories are all that keep me from losing myself to the rage. Maybe one day I’ll have to process it or whatever, but today is not that day.

As much as I don’t like letting her go off by herself, there’s no choice but to watch her continue to the arts and sciences complex where her next class is. Once I watch her walk inside, I turn around and head for the library.

Of course, Leni was right. I’m not here to study. Maybe it’s wrong to hide this from her, but then again, right and wrong has never mattered all that much to me. We spend so much time together at the apartment, I don’t feel comfortable doing my research there. She might see me, get a little curious, and start asking questions. She’s not going to like the answers she gets, and I won’t like the way she doesn’t like it. I’m pretty new to this whole relationship thing, but I know it’s smarter to avoid the shit you see coming a mile away. That’s why I use one of the computers in the library to dig around.

I don’t even know what I’m looking for. A sign, any sign. I have to do something. I can’t sit around and accept what everyone else has accepted. I would know if my brother was dead. I never saw the body. There was no ability to test his dental records since he was basically blown apart.

Whoever it was, it wasn’t Nix. I don’t know who else would have been in the house that day, but it wasn’t him. Nix wouldn’t let himself get blown up like that. He would’ve smelled the gas—it was a gas leak that set off the blast. He would’ve been smart enough to get the hell out of there.

Because otherwise, he did it on purpose, and I can’t accept that. The idea of him doing something like that, without at least hinting to me he was thinking about it… it doesn’t make sense. That’s not him. That’s not us. And that’s what Leni couldn’t possibly understand.

Finally, when my research comes up with nothing as it usually does, I move on to the next step. There’s no way to know whether he reads these emails I send every few days, but I have to keep trying.

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