I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, tossing it down on the couch. Communica was one of his companies, and nope. He’ll be angry I hung up. He’ll call back later or tomorrow or have his guys drag me back to him for a face to face to finish the conversation, but I didn’t care about any of it.
I’d always had tunnel vision when it came to things I wanted, and it was always one thing at a time. I couldn’t concentrate otherwise.
The choices I made probably wouldn’t ensure me a long life, but it was like I’d always known that, and I’d accepted it. I would die young. I had never thought about working, and the idea of walking into one of Gabriel Torrance’s offices every day made me want to puke.
Maybe I was lazy.
Selfish.
Self-absorbed.
Or maybe my head just wasn’t built for a long life of no consequence. It was “hard and fast” on everything, and I didn’t have the discipline for anything other than a one-track mind.
I changed my clothes, pulling on jeans, a T-shirt, and black hoodie, and then walked over and picked up the black wooden box Rika had held and noticed there was something stuck under the lid, preventing it from closing all the way.
I opened it, nudging the razor blade back inside and hesitating as I surveyed the rest of the items. An assortment of desserts that had been constant and reliable during a time when I was a kid, and they were the only things I could trust.
A paperclip, sewing needle, push pin, pocket knife, scissors, tiger tooth, small animal antler, and a bird skull for the sharp nostril edges. Most of them were sterilized, having not been used in a long time, but my gaze dropped to the lighter, and I absently rubbed my thumb over my index finger, feeling the raised skin from the old burn.
I looked at the push pin. I could sleep tonight. If I really wanted to.
I tapped my fingers silently on the box, indulging in the thought of the temptation, but then I heard a knock on the door, and I blinked, inhaling a deep breath.
“Sir,” Matthew Crane, the lead security detail my father had given me, said behind me. “The extra equipment you asked for is at the site.”
I nodded absently, closing the box and fastening the clasp. “You can go home,” I told him. “I won’t need you for a few days.”
Tucking the box back in the duffel bag, I walked to the sofa and finished getting dressed, lacing up my boots and grabbing my bag, stuffing my suit inside.
“You’re going tonight?” he asked, probably noticing my attire. “You won’t have much light, and it’s supposed to rain, sir.”
I shot him a look as I finished gathering my shit.
He didn’t press further, simply dismissing himself. “Congratulations,” he said. “On your nuptials, I mean. We’ll wait for your call.”
I followed him out the door, he and the other man both flanking me as we descended the stairs and left the club.
They may as well get their rest while they can. When the shit hit the fan, they’d be getting some sleepless nights.
Just like me tonight.
It was time to head back to Thunder Bay.
I’ve done so much more than what I went to prison for—and far worse. Winter has no clue how bad this can get.
Winter
Seven Years Ago
“So you could probably just be homeschooled, huh?” Erika—or, Rika—asked as we treaded down the school hallway slowly.
She led me as I held onto her arm, just above her elbow.
“The textbooks are on audio,” she went on. “And then the teacher sends you the lecture notes, and the computer reads them for you, so…”
“Yeah, my parents would prefer it,” I admitted. “Actually, they would’ve preferred if I’d stayed in Montreal. But I need to learn how to be around people.”
I’d been attending and living at Penoir, a school for the blind in Canada for over five years now, and while I enjoyed it there, comfortable around others who had to live life like I did, I wanted to come home. I wanted to learn to live here again and cope with being who I was now in an average environment. I missed the smell of the sea around our house and the ballroom at home where I always danced.
It was for my own good, too. I wanted to do more ballet and start regular classes again, maybe shoot for something professionally with the support of my family around me.
“Must have been lonely,” Rika offers.
Someone brushed my shoulder as they rushed by, and I took a moment to steady myself. This was the part of school I wasn’t going to like. The crowded halls, the shouts, laughter, and chatter, and all the eyes. I lifted my chin, hoping I looked relaxed.
“Uh, well…” I joked. “I didn’t really say I wanted to be around people. I just need to learn to be.”
She let out a little laugh and veered right. “Turning,” she whispered, alerting me.
“Actually, I had lots of friends,” I continued, following her. “It wasn’t lonely. It was comfortable. Too comfortable, I guess. I annoy my sister, so since she graduates at the end of the year, I thought it would be my last chance to be around for that.”
She chuckled again. “How fun. I’m an only child.”
I wonder if my parents might’ve kept me around if I had been the only one instead of tucking me away at some distant school for others to deal with.
My face started to warm as we walked, and I wasn’t sure if it was my nerves or what.
“Are people staring at me?” I asked her.
“They’re staring at us.”
“Why?”
I heard her inhale. “I think… they’re confused. We kind of look alike.”
“Do we?” I replied. “Are you hot?”
If she was hot, then I was hot.
But she just laughed.
“When I think about how I must look,” I told her, “I still see the kid I last looked at in the mirror when I was eight.”
“So you can think in…pictures?”
I blinked. Pictures?
She must’ve seen a look on my face, because she rushed to apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was a dumb question, right?”
I shook my head. “No, I... I’m just used to being around people who understand, I guess. I’ll have to get used to questions.” And then I added, “And making people feel comfortable enough to ask. It’s fine.” I let out a small laugh and licked my lips. “And yes, to answer your question. My brain still works, just not my eyes. When I try to picture things I’ve never seen before, though, like you or the inside of this school, it gets more complicated. Sometimes I map it out in my head, and I can create an impression. Other times it’s just like a color or a feeling or a sound that helps me identify it.”
Then I went through some of the pictures in my head, reflecting on how I drew things in my mind.
“Sometimes,” I continued, “it’s a memory. Like when I think about trees or I’m in the forest around my house, I always picture the last trees I saw. No matter where I am. Every tree looks like the trees in that garden maze with the fountain. Tall hedges, dark green…” I trailed off, the memories of that day flooding me again. “A fountain…”
“Garden maze?” she questioned. “Not the one at Damon Torrance’s house…”
My face fell, and I almost stumbled. Damon.
She said his name so casually, like she assumed I knew exactly who he was, heard his name every day, and he was just any other boy, living and breathing right here in Thunder Bay. All of it so normal to her.
Of course, I knew he still lived here, but having her so casually confirm it all of a sudden reminded me that I’d let my guard down.
The truth was, I hadn’t heard his name in six years. It was never spoken in my house, not since the day I found him sitting in the fountain and ended up covered in blood. Everyone said it was an accident, but he’d scared me that day. He made me fall.