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“Where is he?” My words are wobbly.
Kane’s eyes soften, their blue sympathetic. “I am not allowed to tell.” He turns to leave but stops. Kane faces me and offers the only smile I’ve seen on his face. “Goodbye, Mae.”
The door clicks behind him. Something breaks inside my chest simultaneously. The sound is louder than glass breaking to million shreds.
Aaron is letting me go.
I’m free. Why am I not jumping and celebrating? Why does my chest keep tearing apart with each passing second?
Am I really free?
My hand clutches the envelope so tight my fist hurts. What would he want to say after he let me go?
I open the letter in Aaron’s neat writing. My fingers clutch it as if it’s the only real thing I’ve had in a long time.
Mae,
When you read this, I will be out of your life.
I know I have ruined your youth. The worst part is that I am not the least apologetic about it. I would have taken you all over again if I could repeat it. You challenged me, Mae. You made me want to abandon my safe ways and find the version I want for myself. But that came with the price of losing you.
You see, it is always shocks that defined my life. It took Aunt Ariel’s suicide for me to realise I was not normal. My parents death made me want to embrace the screwed up part of myself. The asylum implemented the feeling that I am unredeemable. Uncle Alexander’s death erased any hope I had for fixing my existence. The Pit only nourished my desire for blood.
But then, there was you. Not only did you make me feel all the above, but you also woke my greed for more. Your heart, your body, and your soul. I wanted to take everything from you, Mae. That is why I kept you. But you drowning in your blood was the last straw to stop using you for my benefit. To actually not be selfish for once. There is nothing more disgusting than your blood.
Live your life, forget about me. You deserve better, Mae. You are free.
Aaron.
Sobs tighten my throat. I pull the letter to my chest to not soak it with tears. I fall back on the mattress, my heart seeming to leave my chest with every breathe.
I’m acutely aware of my parents calling my name, their voices hardly reach over my sobs.
What’s freedom? Is freedom without Aaron what I really want?
. . . . .
The following day, my friends visit me. I cry in Sydney’s embrace, unable to hold back emotions. My friends represent normality. Sanity. And yet, my heart doesn’t seem to belong with them anymore. I keep looking at the door, expecting it to burst open and for Aaron to announce that the masquerade is over. That he will take me back.
“Will you talk to us, Mae?” Owen asks. “We want to help you.”
My parents, Owen, and Sydney look at me intently. Their gazes, although different, share concern and sympathy.
I should hate it. I never wanted them to look at me this way, but they all have been through a lot.
“Please.” Sydney takes my hand in hers, eyes pleading. “Being silent won’t bring any results.”
“I love the new hair colour, Syd.” I pat a strand of her jet black hair, my fingers swaying back to the memory of when they interlaced in Aaron’s hair.
Why does everything reminds me of him? He hurt me. On more levels than one. Why am I the one in pain instead?
With a deep breath, I tell Dad, “I’ll talk to the police.”
Mum pushes strands of my hair back. “Are you sure, honey?”
When I nod, Dad goes outside.
“You don’t have to tell them everything,” Owen says in a gentle tone. He has grown facial hair, it suits him. “Whenever you’re uncomfortable, you can chase them away.”
