A beautiful voice.
That someone can finally hear.
Let my words spill out into the world.
Let my soul drench the air.
Let it change lives.
Let it bring my best friend back.
But he doesn’t come back, and I stand alone in the dark, desperate to chase after him, yet terrified what will happen if I do.
I turn for the door and trudge into my house, less eager to tell my dad the news now. I honestly think about going straight up to my room, but my parents are at the kitchen table eating cake when I walk in.
“Hey, sweetie,” my mom says, but instantly frowns when she sees the look on my face. It’s the same expression she wore when I had my meltdown the other day. They had both looked at me like I am going to liquefy into a crazy puddle on the hardwood floor. One day I will make her confess why she looks at me that way sometimes. “What happened?”
Sinking into the chair, I reach across the table to steal a glob of pink frosting from her slice of cake. “Nothing. Ayden and I are just having a little spat.” If I can even call it that. I honestly have no clue what the hell is going on in that boy’s head anymore.
“I’m sorry.” My mother discreetly glances at my father as he shovels a chunk of cake into his mouth. “But don’t worry, you two will get over it. Best friends always do.”
“Ayden and I aren’t you and Dad, Mom.” I lick the frosting from my finger. “We just …” I trail off. We just what? Spend every waking hour together? Kiss in the darkness of the room. Sing solo performances while grinding on each other. “So, I have some news.” I change the subject. “I’m officially a singer in a band.”
My dad’s back straightens, and he beams with pride. “Oh, really? When did this happen?”
I shrug as I roam over to the cupboard. “Tonight. One of Ayden’s band members convinced me to sing, although Ayden was the one who actually helped me.” I grab a glass from the cupboard then open the fridge. “But it doesn’t matter. The important thing is I’m officially cured of my stage fright and can live out my lifelong dream.” When I remove the jug of milk out of the fridge, I notice how edgy my father is. “What’s wrong, weirdo Dad?”
“It’s nothing?” He takes a swig of his milk. “It’s just that … I just want to make sure you’re careful. If you really get into this band thing … well, the environment is intense.”
My mom nods in agreement. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, but we just want to make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.”
“I get into trouble all the time,” I remind them as I fill the glass with milk. “But if you’re talking about drugs, sex, rock ‘n’ roll, and all that shit, you should know I’m good with staying away from that stuff.”
“Okay, but there will be rules,” she says as she cuts into the slice of cake in front of her.
“What exactly do you guys think I’m doing?” I ask as I take a seat again. “I just joined the band; I’m not starring on stage yet.”
“But if it’s your lifelong dream, you will eventually,” my father chimes in. “And I just want to make sure you do things the right way.”
“Like using my father’s awesome connections to get my foot in the door?” I grin sweetly at him.
He tries not to smile, but it slips through. “Maybe. I’ll have to hear you play first.”
I press my hand to my chest, mocking being offended. “Father, I’m shocked. You seriously don’t believe that with my awesome genetics, I don’t have the voice of an angel.” He wavers, and I throw a napkin at his face. “So insulting.” I rise from my chair. “I’m going to bed. I’ll let you two finish off your cake.”
When I get to my room, though, I don’t go to sleep. I write.
Kiss me goodnight. Throw me away.
Hug me tight. Then let me fray.
Pieces of you. Unraveling me.
Weakening, so desperate to be free.
Ready to break. Ready to tear.
I can see you breaking, and it’s so hard to bear.
I finish the last sentence then peek out my window at Ayden’s home. The lights in his room are off, but I’m only half convinced he’s asleep, since his room isn’t glowing with the black light I gave him.
I move over to my desk and open up the webpage I was looking at earlier today before I went to band practice. I’d been so shocked when I found it that I actually had to get up and scream the lyrics of the most intense, angry song I could find, just to feel like I could breathe again.
After months of investigating, I finally managed to find an article that I think was linked to Ayden’s past. It happened in San Diego, and there’s a mention of a woman that has the same last name as Ayden’s old one who died.
After a complaint was made about noise disruption, police were led to a home where three abused children were found, appearing to be beaten and starved. No arrests have been made, but the case is heavily under investigation. While reports haven’t been confirmed, the case has been linked to three other abuse cases in the area over the last three years. All the victims suffered from the same injuries and subjection.
It makes me wonder exactly what happened to Ayden. Makes me afraid for him. Makes me wonder if the people who tortured him were ever captured.
Is that why he’s always afraid?
Or is it something else?
Something worse.
Chapter 13
Ayden
Even though it’s killing me, I’ve been keeping my distance from Lyric. It’s almost impossible, though, when she lives right next door and our families spend a hell of a lot of time together. Plus, there’s the whole band thing. Whenever we practice¸ she’s there, and Sage is there staring at her. The dude clearly has a thing for her. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem too interested.
I’m not going to lie, I’m fucking miserable. I miss her way more than I thought was ever possible. But I can’t help my distant behavior.
That night Lyric sang, jumping on my lap and touching me, caused me to shrink within myself, because I liked it. Wanted more. And it fucking terrified me as I remembered what more felt like.
I remember the touches that singed my skin.
The way they touched me.
How I begged them to stop.
But my voice was hollow.
Resonating.
A sound no one seemed to hear.
The world was merely a shadow
as they tied me up.