Page 27 of Jayson
Nina doesn’t move. Just stares at me like she’s waiting for the boy I used to be to show up and explain himself.
“You’ve been gone for ten years, Jayson,” Nina says, her voice low, laced with all the weight of that absence. “Ten long, silent years while I buried this house in memory and tried—tried—to forget the boy who walked out and never looked back.”
She steps closer, her cane tapping once against the floorboards like a gavel.
“I kept the doors open longer than I should’ve. And every time, you left them swinging in the wind.”
Her eyes narrow, sharp enough to cut.
“And now you come striding back through them like nothing happened…with a nameless woman in tow. Who you insist on keeping in the basement.” She pauses, lets the silence stretch. “So yes, Jayson. I think you can appreciate why I might be curious.”
I wasn’t lying when I said I needed somewhere safe for thegirl. That part was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Not even close.
I can dress it up all I want—call it strategy, necessity, convenience. But the fact is, I came back for reasons I haven’t said out loud. Reasons I can’t outrun anymore, no matter how many bodies I’ve buried or names I’ve erased.
The truth? I’ve been thinking about the past more than I should. Obsessing, really. Picking at old wounds like I want them to bleed again. Like I need them to. And this place—this cold, creaking, blood-soaked house—is the last place I remember beingme. TherealJayson Caluna. Before I learned how to kill without blinking, how to carry a gun like it was fused to my palm.
I had feelings back then. But now? Now silence feels safer than truth. But here I am anyway. Back where it all started.
And maybe, just maybe, I came back to see if there’s anything left of the boy I used to be. Or if he died the day I stopped fighting my demons.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” I say, my voice low, final.
But my eyes betray me—dragging back to the monitor. Keira’s a small figure on the screen, curled on the bench like she’s folding into herself. Knees to her chest, spine straight, jaw tight.
She doesn’t look scared. She just looks numb. And that unsettles me more than if she were crying.
“I didn’t ask you to leave,” Nina says quietly, stepping in close enough that her perfume—clove and old roses—curls in the air between us.
I don’t look at her.
“It’s for the best,” I murmur.
A beat of silence passes before she speaks again, her voice dipped in something colder now.
“No, Jayson. It’s easier. That’s not the same thing.”
I grit my teeth, fingers twitching at my side. My jaw tightens, but I won’t bite. Because I know where this conversation is going. It always circles back to him. To the boy I used to be. The reasons I left this house and never looked back.
“I don’t want to talk about the past,” I say—more to myself than to her.
But I don’t need to. Because she already knows. And worse—she remembers.She taps her cane once against the floor. A sharp sound. A warning.
“You think she’s your responsibility,” Nina says. “She’s not. She’s your reflection. That’s what’s got you unraveling.”
I stare at the black screen at Keira’s image.
“She’s hiding something,” I murmur.
Nina hums. “So are you.”
“I don’t want to talk about the past,” I repeat.
Nina hums softly. “That’s the problem with ghosts, darling. They never ask for permission.”
And just like that, I’m back there again.
FLASHBACK
