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The abandoned marine biologist in me soars, inappropriate in its timing and subject. Especially considering he doesn’tactuallycare about the planet—his tone says that much. He just wants Fiona to stop worrying.
And that makes my heart lurch in my chest, a violent jump that startles me in the small space, because I’ve never related to anyone more.
His sister glances around the room, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Doesn’t it creep you out that he died here?”
Kieran doesn’t say anything for a long time. The silence stretches so thin between them, a film of omission floating in the air around us. His fingers stroke the spindles on the metal headboard, and I track the movement with my eyes, my pulse kicking up between my thighs.
I squeeze them together, reminding myself that I’m not welcome here. That I’m an intruder trying not to be discovered, and that he’d most certainly kill me if he found me.
After what feels like a lifetime, Kieran exhales, working his jaw. “Ghosts don’t haunt places, you know. There’s nothing here in this house that knows something I don’t, or has seen something I haven’t. Every ghost exists within the living.”
“That makes your being here alone even worse.”
He shrugs. “Do you have a reason for breaking in, Fi? Because I have to say, after the day I’ve had, I’m not in the mood to entertain.”
Gulping, I take another step back, the clothes rustling slightly. My elbow knocks into the wire shelf behind me, the items placed there making a dull, hollow clink as I make contact. Fiona starts talking about some acting classes she’s been taking at some theater in Portland, and how their parents are hopeful he’ll attend some production she’s helping put on in the summer. But I can’t focus on any of that, because when I turn my head to make sure I didn’t knock anything over, I’m met with a plastic bag, stuffed to the brim with bones.
They’re different shapes and sizes and a myriad of colors ranging from dark, dirty brown to a crisp, clean white, indicating both their length of time in this closet and the level of care taken to cleaning them.
My mouth drops open on a silent scream, and I clamp my hand over my lips to stifle the vomit rising like a river rapid, on the very cusp of spewing over. Hysteria clouds over me; even though I have no way of knowing whether these are real human remains or not, something tells me there’s no way Kieran fucking Ivers would havefakebones in his home.
Body shaking, I bury myself even farther into the clothes, struggling to keep my breathing at a reasonable rate. Sweat drips down my forehead, and my stomach twists around nothing, trying to ground itself in my mounting anxiety.
I can barely see them through the door now, but I notice that Kieran’s body seems stiff. He sits up slightly, narrowed eyes dancing around the room, even as his sister drones on about college. They finally land on the closet, and my heart fucking stops beating while he stares, cocking his head to the left.
He can see me. He knows I’m in here.
And I’ve never been so close to pissing myself in my entire life. Not during one of my formerly frequent blackout benders, not when I was a kid and had to sleep in Caroline’s room when the monsters under my bed kept me awake at night.
After a moment, he seems to shake himself out of whatever hold the door has on him, turning his head to engage with his sister some more. He nods and “mhms” in all the right places, offering an air of attentiveness, but something still feels off.
His posture is too rigid, his body not turned enough to be completely unphased by the noise in the closet. And I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me when he finds me here.
“...so Dad dropped me off to make sure you’re still coming to Dad’s birthday thing this weekend. At Opulence?” Fiona snaps her fingers in front of his face, evidence that he’s been as zoned out this whole time as me. “Hello, Earth to Devil? Are you going or not? Mom said she needs to finalize the reservations.”
“Did you really come all the way out here just to ask if I’m attending a birthday party?”
“You weren’t answering my texts.”
“It’s… been a rough day.”
“Yeah, so? That doesn’t give you an excuse to blow me off. You don’t have enough siblings to do that anymore.” Huffing, she gets to her feet, sweeping her dark red hair off the shoulder of her cashmere sweater. “And for the record, I came by to check on you. But as usual, you’re too much of a dick to appreciate that anyone gives a shit about you.”
“I’m not worth it.”
“Worth what?”
“Your concern. The shits you give. Any of it. Give them to someone who matters.”
She scoops a black leather purse from the floor beside the bed and slings it over her shoulder, pausing only to stop and cut him one last glance. “When are you gonna stop punishing yourself for the stuff he did?”
“When there’s nothing left to be punished for.”
She frowns, her delicate features sloping downward. “He’s gone, Kier. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“Death is an escape, Fiona. Not a sentence.”
Nodding, she moves toward the door. “I wasn’t talking about Murphy.” And with that, she leaves the room, pulling the door shut with a soft click behind her.
