Page 37 of Dead By Dusk

Liar, Killer, Traitor: Silene

Silence bears down on us as we all observe one another. I have only completely trusted one person since I woke up in this godforsaken house riddled with memories that don’t feel like my own. I have only trusted a singular person and tried to keep her away from anyone that could pose a threat, and yet, we found ourselves woven into a web of lies alongside them anyway.

We find ourselves locked inside with a liar, killer and traitor tied into one. The worst part about it is Iknowevery single one of these men are capable of ending a life just as easily as they are of lying. I know, because I remember what it was like working with them at one point in time. I still feel the aftermath of fists connecting with my body during training and the skin of my own cracking while fighting back. I remember some but not enough.

“How would it have been one of us?” Ronan finally asks, breaking the silence that coils around our bodies like a snakeready to suffocate us until our breath is no longer our own. My green drowns in his deep ocean blue when I look at him and find that he doesn’t look surprised by my statement in the slightest.

Knowing what I want to say isn’t difficult, but knowing how to approach the subject is an entirely different matter. How will each person react? How do I differentiate their truths from their lies?

“It’s time we talked about what we remember and how we got here.” It’s a slow, careful statement as I step away and around the body before ducking through the shattered door and coming face to face with the only one who hadn’t entered the room.

Her back is propped against the wall opposite of the door. Her fingers nervously fidget and twist as we stare at one another.

“How did he die?”

Her question throws me off balance as my second foot touches the ground through the shattered door, and I find myself slightly stumbling. Her wide, autumn eyes are brimming with curiosity as they track every movement.

“How did you know?” I question as we both fall into a silent cadence of footfalls away from the others who have yet to follow me through. I suppose that’s a good thing though, as I’m reeling from the fact that someone has died in this house while we’ve been occupying it. It feels like my thoughts are in a free fall of curiosities and secrets that I may never have the fortune of knowing.

“The stench of metallic death was heavy—enough to know I didn’t want to be in there. I presume the smell will linger everywhere we go now that there are two bodies,” she says, following a soft, thoughtful hum.

Something about the way she says it feels as if she’s becoming desensitized to what is happening around us. As if the fear has molded itself to her soul long enough that death is still an inevitability she knows exists, but it doesn’t make heruncomfortable anymore. It’s the nature of the beast, some would say, but I don’t like the change in her. I don’t like how I’ve told myself she would live, but something that is a core part of her identity feels as if it has been ripped away to make room for the very thing that makes everyone else here the same.

I never wished for her to be like me.

“He was shot. Recently.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember anything?” I ask as we navigate the dark hallway. “Because all of us are about to have that conversation, and you need to be ready to be questioned pretty heavily. If you remember anything that could help us figure things out, that would be—”

“I don’t. At least, nothing that would be helpful to you.” Her voice shakes a little as she grabs onto my arm and pulls me to the side. The grip is harder than I would have imagined possible from her, and I wonder what she could have remembered that would cause such panic. “Please don’t make me say more than is necessary.”

“I can’t promise anything and you know that, just…just figure out what you’re going to say in front of them. They don’t need to know, but you cannot keep things from me after tonight. I need you to be one hundred percent transparent with me. Is that clear?”

There’s hesitation behind her gaze as it shifts, and I realize that no matter how much I’ve told myself I could trust her, I did so blindly. Can I really? Have I been so stupid as to put my trust into someone after I was explicitly told I shouldn’t? What if she was the one who has betrayed me?

I can’t help but wonder about the possibility. If I were to die by her hands, who could I blame but myself? Or maybe not by her hands, but rather her unintentional doing. Not when I so easily gave her my protection and showed my most vulnerableself to the sad and dreamy soul whose heart I thought matched my own. How stupid is it that I still don’t think she is capable, even at the brink of this realization?

The feel of her grip on my arm eases as she backs away and takes small steps toward the staircase while tears surface and threaten to spill as she frantically shakes her head. Each movement is delicate and swift before she turns her back to me and continues on her own.

I give myself a moment to gather my own thoughts, chancing a backwards glance to find nothing but Nathaniel’s searching gaze, intense and accusatory.

His eyes, already dark, are emphasized in the shadowy unrest that the house casts over his face, making him appear unintentionally menacing. Standing unnaturally still, he doesn’t move when I do. Not until I take a step toward him and he cocks his head to the side. It was a small movement, but it has me faltering, nonetheless. It has me taking back that distance I’d attempted to bridge and instead grabbing the cool railing that presses into the bare skin between my shorts and sports bra. I turn and make quick work of the steps below.

Once I’m downstairs, I shake my arms out as a chill shoots up my spine. The house isn’t necessarily cold, but it feels as if the eeriness surrounding us has drained any remaining warmth left to be found, leaving me with only the frigid sense of awareness.

Carmen sits still on the couch, as far away from everything as possible. Moving to walk to the kitchen, I abruptly stop in my tracks when I almost run into the body in the middle of the living room floor. Just as Ronan had described, his head is nothing but a mess of brain and bone and too much blood.

One thing I wasn’t expecting was to feel safer in the middle of the woods than I do inside the house. But even with an escape route, I feel trapped within these four walls of death and secrets. Like there’s no real way out now that we’re back where westarted. These thoughts feel like giving up though, so I decide to check the cabinets for what I might be able to stomach instead. Decide to use food to take my mind off of the matter rather than dwell on the formidable.

Food fixes everything.

Almost everything, at least. But dread continues to settle within me as I grab a package of crackers from the pantry and rip it open. The sound of plastic tearing is almost too loud in the silent house. Though I refuse to care as I shove a few crackers in my mouth and begin pacing.

My thoughts run rampant as I decide what I need to do.

Survive.

---