Page 33 of A Touch of Heaven

I place my hand on his thigh, not saying anything, just letting him know I’m here to listen. “She was so full of life, Brooke, but she needed more than what this town could give her. She was always around at home, you know? Studying to graduate. She wanted to go to an ivy league college, and she could have done it, Brooke. She was the smartest person I knew, but I think she got worn out and needed a break. Her friend had convinced her to go to a college party to let loose for once. She snuck out that night, but I saw her. She looked beautiful and so full of life. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see her smile.”

He takes a deep breath and stares into the cool night air before continuing.

“I saw her when she came back early the next morning. The Ellie I knew was gone. Her dress was shredded. She only had one of her shoes. Her lip was split, and I could see the bruises on her wrists and legs.

“I asked what had happened. If she was okay. She looked right through me. There was nothing in her eyes, Brooke. It was like she was empty. Like she had died that night, and something else was making her walk around. Three days went by like that. My parents were away on a vacation. They left the day after the party. They didn’t even notice there was something wrong. They didn’t even notice their own daughter was hollow. I’ll never forgive them for that.

“On the fourth morning after that night, I was working on my school project when I noticed water dripping onto it. I looked up and saw a pool of water on the ceiling, and it was leaking onto this stupid farm thing I was making. I remember being really annoyed, as it was ruining all these figures I had painted. I went upstairs to see what was going on, and I found her in the bath. She was wearing her favorite dress. She always looked like an angel in it. It was meant to be white, Brooke, but it wasn’t.”

His voice turns desperate, and it’s like he’s not even here right now. He’s back there, being that scared little boy reliving finding his sister.

“I ran over to her, and I realized what she had done. God, Brooke, the water was red. I didn’t know water could look like that. It was everywhere. It filled the bathroom; it was overflowing, and I realized I was standing in it. I was standing in my sister’s bloody bathwater. I tried to pull her out of the bath. I really tried, but I couldn’t. I pulled her arms up, and her wrists were…she cut so deep, Brooke…even if I was there when she did it, I never could have stopped the blood. She cut to the bone, I could see it. She didn’t want to survive. There was no hesitation. I remember screaming her name, but she wasn’t moving. She was so cold.” He shudders as if he can feel it on his skin now.

“My parents came home four days later from their trip, and I was sitting on the floor covered in blood and water. I remember nothing from those days. Those memories are gone… I don’t remember turning off the tap. I don’t remember sitting down. I don’t remember my parents coming home. I died that day with her. I sat in that bathroom for four days, Brooke. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t leave her alone. She didn’t deserve that.”

He looks at me, and I can see the tears streaming down his face. The pain, the devastation. I don’t know what to do or say. There is nothing I can do to make this better. I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his body as tightly as possible.

“I am so sorry, Asher. I can’t imagine how painful that was.”

He wraps his arms around me, and we sit silently as he sobs into my shoulder. The anguish in his voice is heartbreaking. Asher is the strong one. The one that doesn’t take anyone’s shit. But he’s also the cheeky one, the one that, when he smiles he lights up the room, making us all smile with him. Now, all I can see is that nine-year-old boy who lost his sister. Eventually, the tears stop, and I feel him pull me up.

“I’m sorry Ellie…I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He whispers as if afraid to wake the ghosts that haunt him. He leans down, kissing the cold stone with his lips.

He threads his hand through mine and begins walking to the graveyard's far side. We climb the wall and walk for what seems like miles in silence. The rough trees get denser and denser as we come to a large, wooded area. His hand is in mine, helping me through so I don’t trip over the brush.

His voice makes me jump as the silence is interrupted.

“I didn’t understand then why she did what she did, but a few years later, I was unpacking some boxes and came across her stuff. I was surprised my parents even brought it, considering the tape hadn’t been touched since sealing them. I started going through them, and I found a letter unopened with her handwriting on it. It was her suicide note. Our parents didn’t even read it; it was sealed and addressed to them, and they just tossed it in a box with the rest of her stuff like it was trash.”

We continue to weave through the woods as he slowly reveals everything to me.

“She told us everything in it. How she went to the party and met a guy called Michael. He seemed sweet, and she had seen him around town, but she started to feel a little funny at the party. He took her to one of the bedrooms in the frat house. He had drugged her, and then he raped her, Brooke. His friends tied her down as she tried to fight him off. And then they took turns in raping her all night repeatedly over and over again.”

He lashes out, hitting a tree and punching it repeatedly. He doesn’t stop, and I can see the blood trickle down on the tree as he splits his knuckles open. I’ve never seen him like this before. This is the angel of death everyone talks about. It’s terrifying, and my heart bleeds for him.

“Asher, stop, stop,” I cry out. I pull him away, and he collapses to the ground. I lean down. “Oh my god, your hands.” There’s blood everywhere. Bits of stray wood and splinters sticking out of them, making them look even worse.

“Asher,” I say softly, pulling his head up to look at me. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid. You couldn’t have done anything.” He looks up at me, and his eyes are cold, frighteningly so.

“But I did, Brooke. I did do something. I found one of those fuckers, and I killed him. But not before beating him to an inch of his life and making him beg for me to stop. I broke every finger, his wrist, his arm. I cut him in places I knew would hurt him but not enough to bleed out. I told him if he gave me the names of the other guys, I would let him go. He gave me the names, believing me because he couldn’t hack the pain any longer.” A hysterical, crazed laugh escapes his lips. Honestly, at this moment, I’m frightened of him.

“I tortured him for hours, making him feel every spark of fear my sister would have, and then I shot his dick so he couldn’t rape anyone anymore, and when I was bored with hearing his screams, I shot him again right in the face, without blinking. I dug a hole over there and dropped him in it. I soaked him in lighter fluid and threw in a match and burned him till there was nothing left of him.”

He looks at me dead in the eyes, so deranged. “It’s okay, B. I filled in the hole so you can’t see, but I promised him his friends will join him soon.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

BROOKE

Idrive the two of us back since Asher isn’t in a fit state. He’s staring out the passenger window without any emotion on his face. He’s gone silent on me again.

I get it. I can’t imagine anyone having to go through what he did. Asher is broken inside, and I don’t think he will ever be right again. He sat there on his own with his sister for four days.

How can anyone ever get over that?

How could she do that to him?

A little part of me is angry at her. She knew he was on his own with her. Another part of me knows she was too broken to even realize he was there at all. How alone she must have felt in those final days.

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