Lost Boy

He shakes his head, “Eli, she’s alive and safe. As parents, you can't ask for more than that. You have no right to it. You let her down once already.” I know that pain.

He walks away with Stuart. When I can't see them anymore, I pull the phone from my pocket. The live stream is a bit blurry but I can see her. She’s doing homework. Something about her look makes me smile. It’s something I haven’t seen before. She’s curious or daydreaming. I would die to know what it is about. Instead, I send a text.

‘Sledgehammer and a clean up crew.’

‘Already ordered.’

If anyone knows the pain of being left behind and forgotten, it’s Stuart. He would die, if he too, had a tomb somewhere.

I don’t know if I have waited long for Stuart or not. She’s there in my mind and in front of me on the screen. She is everything, and somehow, she fills the void where the white noise and fuzz take away my feelings.

With her I feel a thousand things. Most of them are bad but it’s better than needing the pain to make me human again.

A sledgehammer drops on the ground next to me. I glance up at him, “They okay?”

He shakes his head, “No. They called that cop from the truck. They were sobbing and freaking out but he got them calmed down. He told them everything you said. They called Dr. Bradley after. She explained that she’s basically living in a box and doesn’t know it. She’s under constant surveillance and safe, and that they need to keep their distance so she doesn’t have all those bad things rush in all at once.”

I pass him the phone and pick up the hammer. I pull off my jacket and roll up my sleeves.

“Don’t wreck any of the other tombs and headstones.”

I look at the others and nod, “I’ll try not to.”

Chapter Five

Boston - August 2012

“The hallway has cameras and I’ve linked them to the laptop.”

I look at him expectantly, “What about the room? I can’t see her in the room. I've spent two years watching her room, I want that."

Stuart points at me, “Don’t start this shit again. Dr. Bradley says no. You need to deal with your shit as much as she needs to deal with hers. This is an invasion of privacy already.” He sees my jaw clench and leans in, “We aren’t having this conversation again. She and that hot-ass friend of hers, arrive in a couple hours. Let’s go.”

She’s in the air flying. It makes me uncomfortable but Jane forbade me to fly with her. She forbade me to watch her constantly. She used words that I don’t give a fuck about.

Possession, obsession, control, self-destruction.

What do I care about those things, when I have the cure so close to me? She is better than any pain, any pleasure, anything.

I close the door, following Stuart down the long corridor. A man in a janitor uniform passes by us. I see Stuart freeze up. He has some of the lonely, like she does.

He swerves a bit, brushing against the wall. I walk faster, looping my arm into his. We don’t speak about it. He only needs a minute. He doesn’t handle janitors. We never discuss it. We don’t need to.

I don't like elevators, small spaces, or guns.

We don’t talk about it.

I drive us to the gym so we can forget about the things we can't change.

An hour later, both of us are covered in sweat and fully exhausted when he nods at me, “I have to go get her.” He laughs when he sees my face, “You need one more round, bro. You ain’t got all the piss and vinegar out yet. I’ll message you when she lands.”

I twitch with the want to be there when she lands. She needs me. She’s going to be scared and confused, and the lonely is going to come and take her away.

I feel the white noise and I turn to Angelo, pointing with my glove. He gives me a fierce smile. We enter the ring and knock gloves.

I leave the gym two hours later, fresh, clean, and ready to see her in the flesh. I want her in Boston, where everything’s new and different. I want to go to her; instead, I drive to Jane’s office.

I press the elevator and wait. I hate waiting. I hate Jane. I hate what I gave her and the satisfaction that crosses her lips when she sees me thinking about it.

I step inside of the elevator and close my eyes.

I hate elevators.

They make me nervous. All small places where the walls creep in and try to touch you. Flashes of drawings and triangles, and the dead eyes in the corner, fill my mind. Sweat bursts from my skin. I can’t wait one more second when the doors open and I fight the urge to leap from the metal box.

She is in her chair, tapping her fingers against the wood. She smiles seeing my face, “Eli.”

I scowl, “Jane.”

She gives me a look, “I’ve asked you to call me Dr. Bradley in the office, please.”

I shake my head, “You also asked me to handcuff you to a bed and fuck you senseless so I don’t give a shit, Jane.”

Her face twitches but remains the same milky tone. She doesn’t blush. I’m convinced she doesn’t feel. “Sit, we need to talk for a minute.”

I remove my jacket and lay it on the back of the chair I sit on. She looks me over, “You look tired. Are you sleeping?”

“Pass.”

She narrows her eyes, “You have to let me know how you are doing, if you want to be part of this, Eli.”

I match her glare, “Well, Jane, I am doing well. How are you?”

She scoffs, “Patronize me all you like, but I am the key holder in this little game. The place I’ve got her now is serene and beautiful. You need to back off and give her space.”

I shake my head, “No. It has been a very long time and her family and I want answers.”

She crosses her arms, “You want answers? She is fucking insane—how’s that? Is that clinical enough for you?”

I don’t respond.

She sighs, “She is literally seconds away from a full-scale meltdown at all times. She is completely weak and lost. The only thing that holds that kid together is that dimwit friend that she calls Shell. I think if she were to lose her, that would be the end. I am praying she meets a guy on campus and gives it the old college try. That is about the only thing that will save her. Love and companionship in the form she calls normal. She is obsessed with normal.” She starts to laugh, “You, my friend, are about the last man on earth, she would be prevailed upon to date. She wants nothing like she wants normal. Not some scarred freak show with hate and callous bitterness all over his face. If she sees that room of yours, she will never understand you. Not ever.”

I give her a minute to fully grasp everything she has just said, “Are you done?”

She takes a breath and nods.

I stand, “I don't see her like that. You need to get it through your head, my not wanting you is not because of her. It was lovely seeing you, as always. I will update you on anything I discover.” I pull on my jacket and grin, “I realize you want me and that makes this difficult, but I gave you what you wanted. I never want to speak of it again. It makes me feel sad for you.”

Her nostrils flare, “You wanting to fuck the girl you’ve mentally swapped for your sister, makes me sad for you.”

I take a step towards her but she flinches so dramatically, I stop and point, “She is not my sister. Do not try to plant seeds in my head. I see you and your antics, Jane. And just so you know, I filmed our little evening together. With how shaky your reputation is, I’m certain whipping poor Eli Adams, the lost boy who shot his sister, isn’t going to win you your license back.”

She swallows awkwardly; it almost makes me hard. I smile, “I love dominating you in your office. Had we spent the evening here instead of at my place, I really believe we would have had a lot more fun.”

Her eyes glass over, “But then I would have missed being right about you and your dirty room of sin, and the fact you like to Dom and Sub.”

I nod, “Touché.”

I turn and walk to the button for the elevator. She doesn’t move and I don’t turn back. I’m ready to snap her fucking neck, but I need her to save my girl.

The text messages start as I’m reaching the dorms. My heart beats faster seeing her little requests. She keeps me at arms length with them. Never treating me as if I am someone she is familiar with. She always acts like we don’t know each other. I hate that.

I treat her the same way.

I hate that more.

I glance at the text, 'Can I go to the store?’

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t know how many times I will have to explain the Visa to her.

I send her a message and dial Stuart, “Hey. She needs to go to the store. You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. I have a feeling I won't be leaving here. Dr. Bradley just called and said to keep an eye on you. She said you seemed self-destructive.”

I snort into the phone.

He laughs, “I told you not to bang her—she’s crazy. Takes one to know one, ya know?”

I nod, “I have no desire to have this conversation ever again.”

“Whatever. Tell her I’ll be ready when she is.”

She answers my question. “She needs twenty minutes. You good with then?”

“Whatever.”

I sigh, “You realize that’s not actually a sentence right?”

“Carrot-in-ass-itis is affecting you again.”

I hang up the phone and notice, she too, has left me a little chestnut of annoyance.

‘KK.’

I shake my head, texting her a new message, 'KK is a typo, not a send off. Please speak like an adult'

I press send with a grin. They are all trying to drive me insane. I'm convinced text talk will be the end of civilization.

My desk is painful to sit at as she and Michelle get into the truck with Stuart. She's out in the city. I have to keep taking deep breaths, chanting that she needs to be this different person.

Their conversations are funny and distracting. I want to be in the truck with them, having fun with them. Stuart is charming and easy to gain their trust. Watching Michelle laugh and my girl blush makes me smile. I type slowly, letting my mind wander and wonder what it would be like. I know the things I am capable of. I know the person I am. I don’t need Jane to point out the fact that I won't ever be the man she needs, but I daydream anyway. It's not wrong to imagine if we had met in a bar and she had laughed at my joke, if I told jokes. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">