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“Then what is?” she interjects.
“I was given a mission by the MC president, and it’ll involve me becoming the bad man I used to be. I don’t want you to worry if it ever gets too bad or too real. It won’t be. It’ll just be an act.”
Now sadness and confusion have joined the fear and annoyance in her eyes.
“And I suppose you want me to remember you as you are now?” she says. “Whatever happens.”
I nod because she summed it up pretty well. But I feel like a total idiot having said all that to her. Especially after she averts her eyes and resumes staring at the town lights, no emotion left in her eyes, only reflected light.
I’m no good at talking to women. I already know that. So why the hell did I even try?
“I promise I will,” she suddenly says, her voice so quiet I barely heard her, but firm. Then she turns and looks at me. All sorts of things are swirling in her eyes. “But you better make sure I don’t have to just remember.”
I nod and don’t say anything. I’m afraid to poke too hard and ruin this. Because it’s probably the nicest thing she’d ever said to me. And it gives me hope she’s not really the ice queen she’s pretended to be so far.
“I know all about that empty darkness inside that you’re talking about,” she says very quietly. “I live with it every day. After I was rescued the first time, I still thought that maybe it would go away in time. Now, after the second time, it’s all there is.”
She’s looking at me, nothing frail or fragile in her eyes or in her voice. She doesn’t want me to comfort her, I know that much. Not that I know how to.
“I know what you mean. It’s like a part of you is dead and just lying there,” I say averting my eyes and looking down at the town, but not really seeing it. “Nothing you can do to save it, or wake it up or make it go away. It’s just there, a constant reminder of what was.”
“Yeah, something like that,” she says. “And it’s not even a ghost that can float away. It’s just this slab of meat that was you and now isn’t anymore. And no one understands, everyone just expects you to snap back and be that person again. But there’s no doing that. Because that person is dead.”
I turn to her. “That’s exactly how I felt for so long. I just couldn’t ever explain it this well.”
She shrugs. “I do a lot of ruminating.”
She’s looking at the town but like she can’t see it either. She’s probably seeing that other Ariel she can’t reach anymore. I don’t think I ever wanted to help a person more. Or been this happy that I maybe can.
“I used to think that too, that there was no going back, no waking the dead, or whatever,” I say and pause until she looks at me. Then I grin. “But there is. I’m the proof.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “That’s just wishful thinking.”
“If I did it, so can you.” I really thought she’d be happy to hear this. But she just looks more depressed. Or jaded, or whatever the word I’m looking for is.
“We’re not the same,” she says. “You did what you did to yourself. I had it done to me.”
“I became a soulless killer to survive,” I say. “And you hid yourself away to do the same. I don’t think we’re all that different.”
I also don’t think I’ve ever spoken so eloquently before. I sound like someone from an old book. My literature-loving dad would be proud.
She shakes her head and stands up. “It’s not the same. And I’d like to go home now.”
She doesn’t wait for me to say anything, just walks to my bike. I have no choice but to follow. And take her home.
I wish I could do more for her. That I could give her everything she needs and wants. I never felt that way about anyone.
Too bad she doesn’t want any of it.
4
Ariel
I couldn’t sleep after Ruin dropped me off at home. But that’s nothing new. I rarely sleep much. It’s always the same stupid nightmares and they start as soon as I close my eyes, before I’m even asleep. I’ve tried so many things to make them stop and nothing’s worked. I’ve given up trying. I’ve given up on so many things. Including making sense of why my thoughts are as dark as they are. As angry. As inescapably hopeless.
It wasn’t nightmares—or threats of nightmares—keeping me up last night. It was Ruin’s words. His request to remember him as he is. And his description of what it felt like to be dead inside, which so closely matched my own feelings.
I’m in the yard, helping my mom prune the roses. The sun’s beating down on my neck, I’m getting a pressure headache from not getting any sleep last night, and I’ve gotten pricked by the thorns way too many times. On top of that, Ruin’s happy voice telling me that if he came back from the darkness, so can I, just won’t shut up in my head.
