Page 75 of Dark Ink

“Everyone’s getting here the day before,” came Liam’s measured, even response. “There’s a room for you, if you decide to come.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I’d rather slit my throat than ever step foot on that godforsaken piece of shite land ever again. I’d rather leap off a bridge than hear that old porch swing moan in the night just one more time. I’d rather burn down the whole fucking country than ever see that rusted windvane spin atop that cursed house!”

Grey fog rolled in at the corners of my vision, the kind that chilled the thin burlap sacks I had to sleep under during those nights locked in the barn. I caught myself with a palm against the wall. I was gasping for air, but nothing was reaching my lungs. I continued to shout nonetheless.

“I hope to God that the worms feast on that piece of shite’s body,” I screamed. “I hope maggots crawl through his eye sockets and snakes open their jaws wide for those big hands he was so fucking proud of. I hope the bastard’s not really dead and he wakes up in that plywood coffin and screams himself hoarse trying to claw his way out and chokes on his own fucking tongue.”

My knees gave out and I collapsed into a heap. My lungs burned and I couldn’t even make out the edge of the bed. Everything was grey and black shapes with increasingly distorted lines.

My constricted throat barely allowed me to speak as I coughed. “Nothing will grow on whatever land you put him under. Know that. Nothing green will ever fucking find its way there. You might as well pour salt over it. You’ve condemned something beautiful, something lovely, something that could actually grow. Flourish. Be something!”

My forehead dropped against my shaking knees. I sobbed as my back heaved. I struggled for air that wouldn’t come.

“Liam?”

I needed help. I needed my brother. I needed his warm washcloth against my bloody lip, even if it was too late. I wanted his voice, dripping warm like honey, even if it was never raised against Alan or my father. I wanted his arms around me even though I imagined a million ways he could have used that strength to protect me all those times that he didn’t. I wanted, most of all, to no longer be alone.

“Liam?” I asked again.

I pressed the cell phone tighter to my ear in case it was just the bad connection. I strained to hear his voice.

“Liam?” I cried desperately.

I slammed my forehead against the hard bone of my knees several times. I shouted my brother’s name more times than I could count. But he’d hung up long before. He’d been gone for quite some time.

I was alone.

Again.

Liam gone. Eithne gone. How could I turn to Conor or Mason or even Aurnia after how I’d treated them?

There was only one solution: my demons would always be there to keep me company. I just had to find them is all.

And I knew just how to find mine.

Eithne

When I saw Rian the next day on campus my first instinct was to hit him. I’d never felt such a drive, such a high for violence. The wind was wicked that morning, but I would be wickeder.

I knew Rian had done something to my brother, done something terrible. Stewart hadn’t returned at any point during the night while I shivered beneath all the blankets I owned. He hadn’t answered any of my calls; his voicemail was filled with my increasingly desperate pleas to just come home. I’d make everything right. I’d fix things. I’d love him all the harder. My love—my love alone—could save him. But dawn broke bleak and grey and I stared at the empty apartment in dusky shadows with red-rimmed eyes and I knew he wasn’t coming back.

And I knew the reason.

So I wanted to hit Rian. I wanted him to feel a tiny fraction of the pain that throbbed in my aching heart. I wanted to get Rian on those cobblestones slick with deteriorating leaves and drive my toe into his ribs. I wanted to keep going when he cried out for me to stop.

I moved toward him with this intention. Pushed through the raised umbrellas along the path. My body buzzed with exhaustion and adrenaline, a deadly mix. Rian was in the large square where students moved quickly from class to class in the drizzling rain. I had no umbrella. Neither did he.

I was close enough now that I could see where I wanted my first blow to land. Close enough that I could decide just where I’d need to grab at his collar to yank him backwards, throw him off balance, kick in the back of his knees so that I could launch myself onto him. I’d straddled his hips before, but there would be no pleasure for him this time. I was close enough that my heart thudded wildly in hatred. And in sick longing.

Slipping on the wet stones and blinking rain from my eyelashes, I launched myself at him. Rian stumbled into a student. It was just enough of a display of weakness to make me pause. I wanted Rian at his highest, to bring him to his knees. I needed the Rian from yesterday, in the dean’s office, in the archway where he grabbed me. I needed the haughtiness, the god complex, the eyes devoid of anything resembling kindness, gentleness, humanity.

Standing just behind him, I stood and watched as Rian grappled at the lapels of the student’s raincoat. Was he still falling? Still stumbling? He clawed at the thick plastic like it was his only lifeline before the depths swallowed him. The rain fell over me and I was transfixed as I stood there, a mere foot behind him. All he had to do was turn around, glance over his shoulder to see me. The steady drops were loud on the frozen stones, the hurried steps of students shouldering past me even louder, but neither were enough to drown out what I heard Rian say, neither were enough to prevent my blood from running cold.

“I know you’ve got a hook-up,” I heard Rian say, his voice hoarse as a man’s twice his age. “Don’t shake your head, you little shite, I know you do.”

Rian was no longer catching himself on the student, but rather shaking him. I saw the difference. His fingers weren’t reaching for anything, straining, yearning; they already had their grip on handfuls of the plastic.

I couldn’t move as the student fought off Rian. Shoved him aside more easily than I would have expected given the height difference, given the muscles I knew rippled beneath Rian’s tattered hoodie. I didn’t move when Rian fell hard to his knees. Nor when he turned to snarl at the fleeing student, not noticing me right there beside him. Nor when he shoved himself roughly to his feet, nearly fell again, and stumbled away.

---