Page 167 of Soul So Dark
There’s a reason Bowen stayed at a safe distance as long as Colson lived nearby. And I was happy to live in ignorance for six years, not even bothering to commit Bowen’s face to memory until it was too late.
But I can’t tell Colson about Bowen yet. Maybe never. Colson’s like a bomb; I can’t set him off without some kind of precision. But I have to tell him about the nightmares. No one wanted to tell him before,including me,and look what happened. Maybe if he hadn’t tried to kill this girl, maybe he wouldn’t have run off, and then maybe…
“Colson,” I start before I can lose my nerve, “that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that.”
“What do you mean?” he squints.
“I mean…”Just say it.“You did the same thing to me the night after you found Evie in the woods. You fell asleep in my room and I woke up to you dragging me around because you thought I was Evie and you had to protect me from Bowen.”
“No. When I woke up this time, I remembered doing it. That’s what happens. That’s what the doctors said.”
“You didn’t remember it back then,” I say firmly, “it’s why Scott locked up your guns and mom told me to lock my door at night until you left for college.”
Colson opens his mouth, but the realization renders him silent. He can’t argue with any of it, and things that didn’t make sense before suddenly become clear.
“Everyone thought it was just a nightmare because of what you’d seen,” I say softly, ready to shoulder the blame, “so none of us ever told you.”
Colson’s face falls, his mouth still open as his eyes dart back and forth across the floor. Moments later, his jaw tightens and he propels himself up. He storms across the living room, throws open the front door, and disappears into the frigid night, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, my hand flies to my mouth, my face contorts, and my chest convulses with airy sobs.
Alex…Alex…
It’s as though everything’s come crashing down—again.How have I lost everyone—again?
Suddenly, four pops echo from outside in quick succession. I leap from the sofa and bolt for the door, but then stop after just a few feet. Another four pops echo through the trees. Colson didn’t shoot himself. If he had, there would’ve only been one shot. He starts firing again, unloading his gun into the night.
I retreat to my room, an absolute wreck. I almost text Shelby, but I have no idea how to explain that my brother’s a stalker, he tried to shoot the object of his affection because he thought she was the man who’s currently huntingme, he has a sleep disorder that everyone kept secret for six years, and Alex Barrera is dead. Yeah, I’ll pass for now.
I’m still thinking about it while trying desperately to fall asleep. My mind is racing and there are still so many questions that haven’t been answered. Eventually, I decide to get up and crack my door. Peering into the hall, I can still see faint light from the stairway. I creep toward it and make my way back to the first floor, where I find Colson asleep on the sofa. At least he didn’t wander off in despair and freeze to death in the woods.
I glance at his phone, still sitting on the side table. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick it up and tap the screen. Seizing an opportunity, I crouch down by his hand dangling off the edge of the cushion and gently press his thumb to the glass. The screen instantly unlocks and I silently creep into the kitchen where I won’t accidentally wake him.
I need to find out more about this girl, Brett. There are a lot of things about my brother that I don't understand, but one thing I know is that he doesn't chase girls. He never has. And the fact that he is, orwaschasing this one is nothing short of significant. Starting with his contacts, I quickly find her among the few B names he has.
Brett Sorensen.
Having found a name, I start to return to the living room, but then hesitate. Since I already have his phone…
I tap the text message icon and prepare to search his entire history for her. But I don’t need to look far. In fact, Brett Sorensen’s name is the second one listed in Colson’s messages. My eyes round when I open the thread and find three texts just from today.
COLSON (8:02PM): Unpopular opinion…Friendsdidn’t age well
COLSON (11:16AM): It feels like you’re still in my truck when this comes on
Attached, there’s an image of his stereo face withSatelliteby STARSET playing.
COLSON (8:21AM): Dallas is flying in today. I think you’d like her a lot. She likes dark stuff too, but she’s really happy all the time and likes to talk. She talks enough for everyone, so you never feel like you’re alone. I told you I’d bring you out here with me, and I still will if you want. I promise.
The more I scroll, the harder it hits me. Colson’s been texting her. He’sstillbeen texting her as though she can see his messages. They vary in length, from one-sentence commentary on books to paragraphs describing his innermost thoughts. Finally, I arrive at one dated two years ago.
COLSON (3:34AM): Baby please talk to me. I don’t know what happened but I promise it never will again. I would never intentionally hurt you like that. You’re the only one I want for the rest of my life and I’d let you cut a pound of flesh off me if it made up for what I did. You’re my fucking heart, Brett Ashley. I know you think my soul is nothing but a dark void, but I’ve seen yours too and how it’s the only one that will ever fit with mine. I know you love me enough to know I’m telling you the truth because I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you. And Brett I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.
Tears streaming down my face, I read another week’s worth of heart-wrenching, unanswered text messages until I finally decide I’ve seen enough. I need to return Colson’s phone before he wakes up and discovers me poring through his secrets. But not before doing something else I hope I don’t immediately regret.
I take a moment to open Colson’s photos, preparing for the very real possibility of seeing something that will make me vomit all over the kitchen floor. Granted, I’ve seen a lot of messed up shit when it comes to my brother. Fortunately, this is not one of those times. Instead, I drag the scroll bar down until I find the right date—two years ago.
It might be a long shot, but I scan the faces anyway. It’s ridiculous, really, searching for a face I’ve never seen. There are a lot of pictures of the forest, his Bronco, his Broncointhe forest, parties, hiking, and a lot of other random shit. But then my heart catches and I stop scrolling. There’s a long string of pictures that don’t look like the rest.
