Page 2 of Gemini
No more parties, no more outings. No more just sitting around the living area with a group of people and feeling like, just for a moment, I was the center of it all.
I was in big girl land now. I was lucky if I got to go out to the bar on the weekends with a friend or two.
I’d be going out with my sister if she’d return my damn texts or calls, but she’d been so busy lately. Funny how we lived so close now and yet we saw little of each other. She lived closer to the river, close enough I wouldn’t even have to take the car. But I knew she would either be asleep or gone if I came knocking.
I headed for the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and stared back at dark eyes with dark circles under them.
Should I pack my things and leave? Go out west where a few friends lived? April, my old roommate, was out there now.
Or something else. Walk across Europe, meet up with Marcus. Go back to school. Why the fuck was I here? Just to be close to my sister? I didn’t need to be before. For work? Sure, my shiny new residency was a foot in the door to my career, but I could find another. I could have tried a different location. I wasn’t in love with this city. In fact, I had bad memories here.
A desolate church…a dark room underneath…two brothers who were no good.
I smacked my head lightly again.No, no, no.
Turning on the faucet, I splashed my face with icy water. After brushing my hair and teeth, I put on clothes—a pair of baggy pants and a gray T-shirt—before snatching up my phone and heading out of my room.
The apartment was small and a little worn, as was the building it was in, but I didn’t mind. There was a hairline crack along one corner of the ceiling and the dark wood floors had a few scratches. It was spacious and minimal, just a futon couch and a TV, a book shelf and some plants; a few framed drawingson the walls from old friends and a vinyl player with some records on a desk, gifted to me by my brother.
On the windowsill by the kitchen was a set of little rabbit figurines. All painted and looking out over the city. My mouth went dry as I stared at them. I put on some coffee then popped my leftover Thai in the microwave.
On the small table next to the kitchen my backpack lay unopened from last night. I sat and unzipped the bag, taking out my laptop. Plugging it in, I turned it on. I went to my emails and opened one that said “contact”.
The email just had a name. Eve.
There was a draft waiting to be sent that said:“Where are you?”
I went to another email. It had two phone numbers with names next to them. Andrea and Micheal. Under the names and numbers, it read:“If you ever need anything.”
I went to my phone and pulled up Andrea. We’d talked back and forth in the first few months after the events at the church. But recently things had gone silent. She worked at a neighboring hospital close by, but I had yet to run into her. Micheal, I never contacted. Couldn’t think of a reason. Last time I talked to Andrea, she mentioned he was out of state on personal matters anyway.
Maybe it was just me, but she seemed less traumatized by what happened, and she was the one who was shot. I really should have seen a real therapist instead of talking with her. Or to the dead bodies at work…
I closed out her chat and hesitated on another. It was a lone number. No name. But my heart started pounding just looking at it.
There were only two messages, dated two months between each other.
The first message:You’re doing so well.
The second message:Congrats.
The first came a few days after I successfully started walking again and no longer needed a wheelchair. The last one came on my graduation.
In my heart, I knew it had to be one of them. My money was on Dom. He had been kinder to me.
Even if he had been an accomplice in my kidnapping.
Damn, that word still made my stomach twist. Because the reality of it always hit me like a bat to the head.
I’d been kidnapped with my best friend. Kidnapped. It was fucking bonkers. It was crazier still that I stayed and made the mistake of getting close to my kidnappers. Twin brothers who lived in a different world. I tried not being afraid, tried to let them in a little, and I got burned. The wound isn’t going away any time soon. In fact, it’s turning into a scar.
It had to have been Dom. Even if the number wasn’t recognizable. It couldn’t have been Leslie…
I had half a mind to block the number. I don’t know why I didn’t.
How long were they going to watch me?
Stalkers. That was another word that fucked with my head. Though a part of me was sure Dom would never have any sinister reason to do so. He’d be looking out for me.
