Page 43 of Dance of the Phoenix
Taking a deep breath, I blurted, “My parents don’t want me to see you anymore.”
When she turned to look at me, I averted my gaze, unable to withstand the full shock of her face after so long. It was already hard just sitting there next to her, longing for her, feeling my body humming in her presence as if she hadn’t caused it the worst pain of my life.
“I want to touch you,” she said, and I could hear the genuineness in her words. This was Leenie, the girl I loved, talking. Not Aileen the monstrous torturer.
Feeling my heart breaking at what had become of us, I couldn’t help but say the truth. “I want to touch you too.” But I couldn’t—or rather, I wouldn’t. How could I, after everything?
She was quiet, and I felt my breaths grow haggard as tears filled my eyes. Suddenly, words bubbled in my throat, and I had to get them out. “I love you, Aileen,” I whispered. “I’ve never loved anyone before, and yet ...”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her raising her hand, as if to console me. And even though my body was drawn to her along with my mind, my instincts made me recoil, unable to allow her to touch me. Hating this, hating myself, I turned to face her, eyes wide and full of desperation.“Why did you have to do that?” I asked accusingly. “Why did you have to ... to—”
She cut me off. “It’s what I know, Logan.” Her voice cracked, and her eyes seemed shattered and broken. “It’s the only way I know how to show you I love you—”
I snapped. “When you love someone, you don’t send them to the hospital!” My voice rose. “When you love someone, you make sure they’re safe, that they’re ... they’re—”
“I was lost!” she cried out, her body trembling. “I was stupid, and lost, and goddammit, Logan, it happened right after everything went down with my father—”
“We’re not fucking kids anymore, Aileen!” I shouted, all the confusing emotions inside me bursting out. “You’re acting like you’re still Daddy’s little lost girl—”
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, glaring at me. “You don’t know what happened—”
“Then why don’t you ever tell me anything?” I couldn’t help but scream. Because it was the truth; she never told me a thing. Everything I knew about her was because of my parents or some newspaper articles. She never opened up to me fully, never shared what she truly went through. “In the past four years I’ve been dating a fucking ghost. A ghost, Aileen!” My voice trembled. “I know nothing about you or your circumstances—heck, I only know the dry fucking details because I fucking googled it! And you never told me shit! What did your father do? What the hell happened before you were brought over to our house?”
Her eyes filled with pain that drove me crazy. “Teach me how to love you properly, and I promise you,” she said, almost begging, “I will tell you everything.”
How dare she feel pain? How dare she beg me to stay with her, to “teach her how to love me” after everything she’d done? The audacity ... the selfishness ... And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t hate her. I justcouldn’t. Because all I could feel when I saw the pain in her eyes, even after everything, was the need to love her and protecther. “Love should come naturally, effortlessly,” I spit out, disgusted with both her and myself. “It should never be forced or taught. That you wish for it to be this way ...”
Her eyes widened with fear. “Don’t leave me.”
I barked out a bitter laugh. “That’s what you don’t get about love, Aileen. Even though I’m so fucking angry with you, and even though you hurt me more than anyone else in this world, I will never be able to leave you. This is love in its most honest and brutal form.”
And then, I gave in.
I pushed her down on the grass. I kissed her, ripped her clothes off, and buried myself inside her moments later.
Nothing was solved. And yet the staggering need I felt for her overpowered any sense of logic and rationality.
Little did I know it would be the last time I would see Aileen for years to come.
Chapter 19
Logan
The day after I slept with Aileen, she disappeared.
My calls and texts didn’t get through, as if she had deactivated her number. I even went to her house only to see afor salesign that hadn’t been there before.
Aileen had disappeared without a trace.
The only piece of information I had came a couple of weeks later in the form of an article about the arrest of Amir Zoheir-Henderson, Aileen’s father, for the second time. He was arrested, apparently, the very same night I’d visited Aileen.
Whether it was a coincidence or not, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that Aileen was gone.
And I was left to deal with the gaping hole she left behind.
It was a hot summer day when my life took a sharp turn yet again.
Like every day ever since Aileen left, I spent most of my time practicing soccer in preparation for college. It was summer break, and staying inside wasn’t an option for the person I’d become post-Aileen.
