The local Fox news affiliate wasn’t the first station to run a spot requesting that anyone with any information contact the Cambridge Police Department, but they were the first to air the sketch.
Stanislav Kovalchuk owned an apartment building in the heart of Cambridge’s Central Square neighborhood. He had been watching American Idol the first night that Fox25 ran one of these spots. He recognized the face in the picture as belonging to the young man who’d come to rent apartment 6B in the early winter.
When the Cambridge Police Department came to question George O’Donnell they found him sitting in a photo-filled room tracing geometric shapes in the carpet with his finger. A loaded revolver had been stashed in the closet.
It was only when Jared Sykes returned from an unexpected trip to Big Bear, California that he heard the news.
Late summer, 2007
Day 1
The heat was intolerable. Summer in New England was bad enough, but August in North Carolina was something that Jared simply wasn’t prepared for. Even after the short walk from the car to the house he felt as though he needed a shower, the humidity plastering his clothes against him like a second skin. Worse still was that the air-conditioning unit in the office his friend, Dr. Sebastian Parker, sounded like it was on the verge of hitting critical mass.
The two men had met five years earlier when Jared was an employee of the National Wrestling Council. Hawaii Island Wrestling had contracted Dr. Parker for the purpose of evaluating one of its roster members. The plan was to gather enough data to prematurely end the contract of Jared Sykes, however unfortunately for Akane Kawahara, the woman responsible for these actions, things didn’t quite go as planned.
Parker and Sykes had remained close friends ever since, or rather close enough that it probably violated part of the Hippocratic oath.
The house sat on the edge of what used to be a plantation, overlooking a small pond. It was here that some of the administrative offices were kept, along with a few guest rooms for doctors visiting from out of state. Sebastian’s own office resided on the first floor, in a corner with a view of the plot’s other landmark, the large brick and mortar structure that would serve as Jared’s home for the course of his stay here.
Vance Memorial Mental Hospital. It was named for Carter Vance, a colonel in the colonial militia whose family had owned this particular plot of land since before the Revolution. The hospital had been constructed in 1913, and though the house served an administrative purpose the Raleigh historical society prevented the hospital from making any renovations.
Jared stood silently by the window gazing up at the mass of steel and stone. Using the collar of his shirt to wipe a few beads of sweat from his upper lip, he let his eyes settle on a set of bars barricading a third story window.
“Please tell me it’s not as hot in there as it is in here,” he said over the hum of the air-conditioner.
“The ventilation is all centralized, so you shouldn’t have a problem.” Sebastian was a short, stocky man whose hair had more or less abandoned him years ago. He pulled the glasses from his face and wiped away the condensation with a handkerchief from his pocket. “It’s only warm in here because I’ve been lazy about getting a replacement unit. Besides, it’s not always this bad.”
“If I told you the heat was making me crazy would you find it at all funny?” Jared deadpanned.
“Not really, no.” The good doctor waddled to his desk and retrieved a small hand-held fan from the top desk drawer. It spun twice when he flicked the switch to start it, and then quickly died out. “Huh. Must need new batteries.”
Two double-A Duracell’s were produced in short order, and the fan found new life.
“Much better,” he continued. Sebastian held the fan only inches from his face, but it was close enough to distort his voice when he spoke. “Of course, I never really did get your sense of humor. Not since you put cupcakes in my shoes shortly after we met.”
Jared forced a weak smile, but he didn’t turn away from the window. Nor did he take his eyes off the building.
“They were Twinkies,” he corrected. “And the rest of us thought it was hilarious.”
“Yeah, well, I remember the rest of that crowd. They were… ‘unique’ I think is the word I’d use.”
“They certainly are that. I’m kinda surprised you didn’t walk out with five clients after that trip, to be honest.”
The trip in question involved a cross-country bus ride from Boston, Massachusetts to ‘Potato Salad’, a destination chosen by Charlie Beckett. Charlie was one half of the National Wrestling Council’s most dominant tag teams in history, and was better known in wrestling circles by his ring name of ‘Crash Domino’. He was also something of a man-child.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t at least entertain the idea.” A grin crept across Sebastian’s face, and then vanished. “Though I had a hunch that if I’d mentioned it then the one who kept smoking would punch me in the mouth.”
David McBride was Charlie’s partner. He was also a bit of a prick.
“It’s entirely possible.”
As he stood at the window staring, Jared could feel the sweat beading down the length of his back. Whether it was from the heat or the sensation he received by looking at his temporary home he wasn’t quite sure.
“So, Park’,” he said, turning at last. “How does this work exactly? Like, what am I in for here?”
“Honestly? It’s kind of a ‘what you make of it’ scenario. You’re here on your on volition, so technically you can leave whenever you want.” The doctor’s gaze narrowed. “But given what you told me and why you’re here I’m hoping that you don’t rush to any decisions on the matter.”
“No, I know.”
“Good. That’s good, Jared. I don’t like getting frantic calls from friends of mine at three in the morning, especially given your history.”
Jared stepped to a small couch near the window that held the air conditioner and took a seat. It was something that he immediately regretted. Vinyl. Gonna suck to get up off of this.
“So, if I can leave whenever I want…” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised, but Jared pretended not to notice. There would be plenty of time for the kinds of conversations the doctor no doubt wanted to have, but this wasn’t one of them. “Does that mean I can head outside? Maybe go for a run? Not that I’d do that, because, c’mon – this weather? Yikes.”
“Not really,” came the response. “At least, you’d need someone to sign off on it. Understand that while you can sign your own release whenever you’d like that while you’re here you’re a patient of the hospital, and the hospital has rules surrounding what you can and can’t do. For example, say you wanted to take an afternoon and go out into town. Myself or one of the other attending doctors would need to sign off on it, so that in the event something should happen…”
“Everyone’s ass is covered. Got it.”
The air conditioner made a noise like ice in the blender, causing Jared to jump. He raised a hand to the vent, hoping it would miraculously start churning out colder air.
“Are you nervous, Jared? You look a little uneasy.”
“Just came seven hundred miles because I was thinking about com…” The words trailed off as Jared’s gaze drifted to the floor. “A little.”
“Don’t be. All things considered this is the best thing you could have done for yourself.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Only then did Jared look up from the piece of carpet they’d been focused on.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Jared had carved himself a little sitting area in among the boxes and crates in the corner of the finished half of his basement. He’d been sitting there for hours, pouring through the contents of each, taking a moment where appropriate to pause and reflect on a memory. Nearby a small safe had been drawn open, displaying its contents in a neat little pile. Among them was a small jewelry box, a Snake Eyes action figure missing its right arm, a torn photograph, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses with a shattered lens.
Atop a nearby stack of boxes was a small black journal bound in leather.
He was preoccupied with a collection of photographs when he heard footsteps descending the stairs.
“Jared, you down here?”
The last time Gabriel Simon had stopped by unannounced he’d received the shock of his life. Unfortunately, so had his young daughter Emma. On that day they’d walked in to find Jared unconscious on the floor as a result of a toxic blend of alcohol and prescription medication.
Given the events of the last few days, Gabe was afraid that he might walk into worse. Tragically, he almost expected it.
“Hey, Jared?” he asked again, quickening his descent.
He held his breath as he rounded the corner at the base of the stairs, and exhaled a deep sigh when his eyes came to rest on the man in the corner.
Jared said nothing. He quickly lifted his eyes to look beyond the photograph that currently occupied his attention, and just as quickly looked back down. Gabe let his eyes wander about the room, taking in the disarray before him.
“Sorry to just drop in like this,” Gabe continued. “But when Darren told me that you were back in the area I figured someone should check in. Especially after… well, I know you’ve heard the news. I mean, it’s been all over television for the past few days.”
Still Jared said nothing, and his only response came in the form of a small nod.
“Not going to lie, I’m really glad I didn’t find you on the floor again.”
This drew a more animated reaction from the Black Sheep. A soft chuckle, a slight nod of the head - it wasn’t much, but at least it was something.
Gabe stepped further into the room and lifted the lid of an unlocked trunk. Inside, nestled snuggly in a cradle of molded foam rested a beat-up lawn gnome.
“So, how are you holding up? Talk to me here. What’s going through your head?”
Jared simply held up a picture, turning it in his fingers that Gabe had a chance to look at it. It showed a much younger version of himself looking quite rambunctious and in the middle of what appeared to be dancing. A dark brown bottle rested in his right hand, and a multicolored necktie had been fastened around his forehead a la Jimi Hendrix. He also appeared to be sweating profusely.
“I got so smashed that night,” he said, only then looking up. He drew the picture back and shuffled it into the remaining photos in his hand. “Merv’… He had to drive me home. Was supposed to go to some gaming tournament the next day, had to get up real early. Never made it though.”
“Why not?”
Jared’s face turned a bright pink.
“I threw up in his car. Had to stay up late to clean it out.” He set the pictures down gently on the floor and rubbed at his bottom lip with his forefinger. The smile that accompanied it was small, sheepish, and a little sad. “Ended up sleeping through the early rounds the next morning.”
Gabe simply nodded.
“Must’ve sucked,” he said quite matter-of-factly. “So, about what happened…”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Jared shot back.
“C’mon, Jared,” Gabe persisted. He seemed to float from item to item, his curiosity getting the better of him. He lifted the small black journal from its perch and began to mindlessly thumb through the pages.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared reiterated, this time with more force. “And don’t read that.”
“Hrm?”
Jared was quickly on his feet, dashing across the room to snatch the book away. The move caught Gabe off guard and before Jared could get his hands on the book Gabe let it slip from his fingers. From the inside cover a folded sheet of paper was dislodged, recovered and unfolded first by Gabe as Jared hurried to collect the book.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t know it was a personal thing.” Gabe took a step forward and offered the paper. Through the crease he could make out what appeared to be lines drawn in pencil, though the exact shape remained a mystery. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps.”
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
Gabe glanced from one wall to the next, but soon decided that it was probably safe to not touch anything else. He slid his hands into the pockets of jeans to help resist the temptation of randomly picking up one of the various objects of curiosity.
Hoarder, he thought. Definitely a hoarder.
Late summer, 2007
Day 7
He spent most of his days in this room, though he didn’t know any of the people he shared the space with. The company, the presence of others, it was somehow comforting. For those minutes he spent here Jared felt less alone, less confined. It didn’t hurt that the room came with an excellent view, and North Carolina in the early fall was quite the sight to behold.
She’d been watching him for the better part of the last half hour, though she tried to mask it by letting her eyes dart to the book before her anytime his gaze wandered away from the window. Her face was round with small features, bright green eyes, and black hair from a bottle. A petite diamond stud pierced her left nostril.
She drummed her fingers on the table for a moment before setting her palms down and pushing back her chair. He was new. She liked new. More than that, she liked knowing what made the people around her tick. It gave her strength and a sense of purpose in a place where both were sometimes hard to find.
The socks gave her a sense of stealth as she glided across the tile, feeling more than a little like a ninja. He would evade her curiosity no longer.
“You do that a lot, you know.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, waiting for him to turn. It wasn’t much, just a glance over his shoulder, but for the time being it would do.
“Hrm?”
“Staring out the window,” she continued. “You do that a lot.”
“Oh. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Yep. Always in that spot, too.” She scrunched up her face, a little annoyed that he was still paying far more attention to the untouchable outside world. She was right here, and what was so damn special about a few trees and some grass, anyway? “And if not this one, then just over there. Not that I’ve been watching, or anything. I just pick up on things like this. I’m Marissa, by the way. Marissa Kelly.”
When he finally turned he found her right hand outstretched, and it took a second to register before he took it in his own, lightly as if the slightest pressure might cause it to break. His gentle touch was the second thing about him that Marissa noticed, the first being that his eyes, hazel in color, held a kindness she wouldn’t have expected.
“Oh. Hi,” he said at last. “Jared. Jared Sykes.”
She smiled as she saddled up beside him, peeking through the glass to try and figure out where his fascination lay.
“Well, Jared-Jared Sykes, what’s your story?”
The first thing Jared Sykes learned about Marissa Kelly was just how forward she could be.
“Not sure I follow you.”
“Well, you’re here aren’t you? So there’s got to be a story in there somewhere, no?” She leaned towards him a bit, nudging him with her elbow.
“You’d laugh if I told you.”
“Look around, pal. Not really the place where people pass judgment. So lay it on me.”
“Well, in a past life I was a professional wrestler.”
“Oh cool! Wait, should I have heard of you?”
“Well, no… I guess not.”
“Awesome. Well, maybe not awesome, but you know what I mean. Didn’t really mean work, though. I meant why are you here.” She gestured to the floor with her finger as if to drive the point home. “Wait, am I being too forward? I’m probably being too forward.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, but a single eyebrow had shot up almost reflexively. “Just caught me a little off guard, is all.”
“How do you do that?”
“Huh?”
“The eyebrow thing.” She’d traced a line across her brow with her finger, and then pushed upwards to achieve the desired effect. “How do you do that with just the one? I’ve tried, but I can’t get the one to just move by itself, so when I try I just end up looking confused.”
“Wow.”
“What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m kind of all over the place, aren’t I? I guess I’m just easily distracted. That’s what Paul – he’s my boyfriend, in case you were wondering – that’s what he always says.”
“I… okay.”
“So yeah, what’s your story? You’ve got to share now. See this? Huh?” She gestured with her fingers between them, smiling. “Means we’re tight now. Let’s have it, then.”
Jared turned against the glass, leaned on his shoulder and dug his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. He’d found himself in an interesting predicament. On the one hand he wasn’t entirely too keen on sharing the sordid details of how and why he’d come to be in this place. On the other hand the company was refreshing, and given where they were it was likely that he didn’t need to worry about being judged. Her own story could be just as bad, if not worse.
Plus it just might shut her up.
“I, well, it’s personal, but…”
“C’mon. Cross my heart, I promise not to tell.”
“Well, fine,” he conceded, and his voice became suddenly quiet. “Let’s just say I was thinkin’ of committing a mortal sin.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You know, like, an affront against God.”
“Wait, you’re gay?”
“What? No. What made you think…?”
“Oh, well, it’s cool that you’re not. I mean I wouldn’t care if you were. Like, I know a lot of gay guys back at home, so I’m totally down with it. Every girl needs her gay, you know? A good gay complements anything, I think. Like a nice watch.”
This time both eyebrows shot up, almost to the ceiling.
“Yeah,” he said, struggling for words.
“Well, alright then, mister Jared-Jared Sykes. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”
“So what about you? If I’m sharing, then what’s your deal?”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly looking away. Marissa tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, pulling them down to cover most of her hands. She then hid her hands under her arms. Jared noticed that when she spoke next her voice was quiet and withdrawn. “It’s nothing special.”
“Okay.”
“’Okay’? You’re not going to push?”
“Am I supposed to?”
“No. I’m just surprised that you didn’t.”
“Figured if you wanted to tell me then you’d tell me,” he said with a shrug. “Not really my business, though.”
For the first time since she’d walked over to introduce herself, Marissa Kelly was left speechless. Jared took note of this, let it sink in, and decided it best to change the subject.
“So what’s it like here?” He shifted his posture against the window, unfolding his arms and letting his hands slide into his pockets. “There anything I should know about?”
“Well, you should probably know the major players.”
“The who?”
Her smile started to show itself again. Gossip was something that she reveled in, and a chance to explain the ins and outs of the hospital was not an opportunity she’d pass up, especially when it afforded her the chance to further deflect the conversation away from herself.
“The major players.” She kept her hand tucked, but raised an elbow in the direction of the gathered mass. “You see the little guy over in the corner?”
“The one with the glasses?”
“Yeah, that’s him. His name’s Rob, but I call him ‘Alvin’, because he’s so squirrelly.”
Jared worked hard to try and stifle a laugh, but found himself unsuccessful.
“What?” she asked. “Why’s that funny?”
“It isn’t. It’s just that Alvin wasn’t a squirrel. He was a chipmunk.”
“Hrm,” she said, pursing her lips and cocking her head slightly to the side. She shrugged a few seconds later. “Well, can I plead insanity? I mean, it would work, because…”
“Right.” Jared let his eyes scan the room. His gaze settled on a man alone at a round table. He was drawing, and seemed quite focused on the paper in front of him. “What about that guy? What’s his deal?”
“Him? I actually don’t know his name, not his real one anyway.”
“Does he have a clever-yet-factually-inaccurate nickname, too?” The question earned him a soft jab to the shoulder. “Alright, alright. Don’t get violent on me here.”
“No, he doesn’t have a nickname. At least I haven’t thought of any.” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes wandering in the direction of the nameless artist. “He’s always drawing dragons. It’s weird.”
“Dragons? Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
Late summer, 2007
Day 16
There wasn’t as much downtime between sessions as Jared had originally expected, but what gaps there were seemed to drag on forever. Mornings held group sessions that lasted around an hour or two, and afternoons were reserved for one-on-one sessions. Everything else was open. Much to his surprise even sleep – one of his favorite pastimes, became tedious after a while.
Then there was Marissa. Over the last few days a friendship had formed between them, though Jared was fairly sure he couldn’t avoid her even if he wanted to. He was trapped in her gravity well, and she had no plans of letting him escape anytime soon.
Just as well, he thought, this place would be awfully boring without someone to talk to.
On this day they sat across from each other at a small square table along a mural painted wall. Between them was a deck of playing cards.
“I think you’re bluffing.”
“I’m not bluffing. Why would I be bluffing? How could be a bluffing?”
“I dunno,” Jared said, shrugging. “I didn’t really think this through.”
“Yeah, apparently. So are you going to make your move, or what?”
“I’m thinking.” Jared shifted the cards in his hand, eyeing them for a moment before glancing up across the table. He found her hard to read, a curiosity given how expressive Marissa tended to be. After a moment of study his gaze once again returned to the five cards in his hand.
“Today, Jared.”
“Alright, alright.” He set his cards face down in a small pile on the table and scratched at his neck. It’d been a few days since he’d last shaved, and the growing stubble was particularly itchy on this day. “Got any fours?”
Marissa slapped the table proudly.
“Nope,” she said, smiling. “Go fish.”
Jared sighed and drew his card. “I hate this game.”
“That’s because you suck.” Marissa scrunched her nose to tease him, but his attention was already drawn elsewhere. “Not like me, anyway. I could have gone professional at age seven. I would have, but then I got a paper cut on my shuffling hand, and it kept me off the circuit.”
“Oh yeah?” His eyes had settled on the newest figure in the room, a tall man with short blonde hair who carried a large sketchpad under his arm.
“Yeah,” she persisted, testing his attention span. “The doctors almost had to amputate, but then they realized the problem wasn’t a paper cut at all. Just a hangnail. Of course by then it was too late and I was already off the tour.”
“No kiddin’.”
Jared continued to watch the blonde artist walk to a lone table in the corner of the room, the same spot he always occupied. Marissa saw this and let her brow furrow.
“So I think we should sleep together,” she continued, wondering if this would draw his attention back to her. “Well, I would suggest that if I didn’t have this issue with lobsters crawling out of my ass.”
“Okay.”
She slapped the table again, this time in frustration.
“Dammit, Jared. You’re not even paying attention!”
“Huh?” The force of her hand against the hard surface seemed to do the trick, and his eyes blinked rapidly as he turned his gaze back to her. “I’m sorry. I sorta spaced out there, I guess.”
“Yeah, you did. What’s your fascination with that guy, anyway?”
“Just curious, is all.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, once again turning away from her. “So you really don’t know anything about this guy at all? Like, aside from the dragons?”
“Just rumors,” she sighed, resting an elbow on the table and propping her head in her hand.
“Tell me. You’re the one who said I should know the ‘major players’, or whatever, right?”
“I guess.”
Jared pushed his cards away and leaned onto the table. Conversely Marissa leaned away. He was asking about someone else. Why would he ask about someone else when she was right here and he could just as easily ask about her? She found the whole situation terribly frustrating, even a little offensive.
“So then what have you heard?” Jared pressed.
“Alright, fine.” Marissa threw her hands up and sighed, finally conceding to his persistent requests. “I guess he used to be married, or something. At least that’s what people tell me. Also had a kid.”
“What happened then? How’d he end up here?”
“I’m getting to that!” she snapped, tightening her gaze. Almost immediately she recognized her tone. Blushing, she backed off. “I guess… I guess there was an accident. I’ve heard everything from a car accident to a house fire, but whatever happened his family didn’t survive. So now he’s here, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to anybody. All he does is wander around and draw dragons all day.”
Jared sat in silence for a moment, drumming his fingertips on the table. Had Marissa known him better she would have picked up on what this meant. The gears in his head were turning, powering the decision engine that was trying to determine whether to stay here or take a short walk to the far corner of the room.
“What are you thinking?” she asked at last, tipping her head to the side.
“I’m gonna go say hello.”
Jared pushed himself away from the table and eased to his feet. Marissa’s eyes went suddenly wide.
“But I just told you. He doesn’t talk to anybody. I don’t even know if he can talk.”
“So then what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well alright then.” Jared grinned and put a hand lightly on her shoulder as he stepped past. “I’ll tell you all about it when I come back. Maybe we’ll confirm some of that rumor.”
He slid across the floor towards the round table in the corner of the room and the man seated there. The blonde fellow didn’t look up even as he approached. He calmly picked up a piece of graphite, dull and rounded at the tip, and set about the task of putting lines on paper.
“Hey,” Jared said as he approached, keeping his voice low so as not to startle him. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
The blonde man said nothing. His hand moved gracefully across the paper. A straight line here. A slow curve there. Jared slid a nearby chair away from the table and sat down, craning his neck to get a better look at the shapes taking form in front his new acquaintance.
“What’s your name? I’m Jared.” A hand was extended across the table, but the gesture was not returned.
Jared narrowed his gaze, but from where he was sitting it became difficult for him to discern just what exactly was on the page. He looked from the paper to the man sketching on it and decided to try getting closer. As Marissa watched nervously, Jared lifted his chair and brought it next to the silent stranger so the two now sat side by side. At first the man leaned slightly away, but he did not stop his work.
The piece was truly something to behold. It depicted a family of three huddled tightly together in front of a burning landscape. Above them, towering and mighty, stood a massive dragon. Its head was drawn back, its mouth hung agape, and smoke and flame poured from its nostrils.
“Wow, you’re amazing.” Of his many interests, few things fascinated Jared as much as watching a master in the act of creation. His admiration was evident when he spoke. “Seriously, dude, that’s absolutely incredible.”
The hand of the blonde man moved quickly, placing dozens of small tick marks in succession along the body of the hulking dragon. As his hand worked further up the neck of the beast Jared took note of the other figure in the sketch.
Above the dragon, swooping down from the heavens, a glorious angel drew its arm back ready to strike with a golden lance. It would swoop in and use its shield to deflect the flame long enough to defend the cowering family and strike at the heart of the great serpent.
“Is that you?” Jared asked, gesturing with his finger towards the winged dragonslayer. “Is that your family?”
The man didn’t answer him. He rested his piece of graphite on the table, and with the palm of his hand made a number of small smudges on the drawing to give the illusion of fog and shadow. When he was done he simply clasped his hands together, letting them fall into his lap. The silence remained.
Jared sat in quiet reverence for a moment before standing.
“I’m sorry for what happened.” He slid his chair neatly back into place at the table. “You’re a really talented guy.”
As Jared moved to step away he felt a sudden tug on his sleeve. The blonde man had not looked up, but had reached out to take hold of his arm. When Jared turned his quiet friend had removed the sheet of paper from his sketchbook, offering it to him with his free hand.
“For… me?” The gesture was one he was unprepared for. Looking across the room his gaze met Marissa’s. Judging by her expression she hadn’t seen it coming either. “Thank you.”
The man released his grip, still keeping his eyes low. As Jared stepped away, slowly walking back to where Marissa sat dumbfounded, he turned briefly back to the blonde man. He had already set about drawing himself another picture. Another dragon.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Meadowview Cemetery. It was the last place that Gabe Simon had expected Jared to name when he’d suggested they take a ride. He didn’t press; he didn’t try offering alternatives or talking Jared out of his decision. Instead he acquiesced. Part of him wanted to believe that it might be helpful. In the almost three months since Mervin had passed Jared had not once made any effort to visit the spot where his friend was buried. It was the first step towards closure, Gabe thought. It was the first step towards healing.
The car had rolled to a stop some ten minutes ago, but neither man had moved. Jared remained quiet in the passenger seat of the silver Honda CR-V, occasionally scratching at the stubble on his chin or sliding this thumb over the window controls. Gabe had stayed silent, figuring that it was up to Jared to make the first move, but his impatience was starting to get the better of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit.
“So,” he said, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Here we are.”
“Yeah.”
“You sure you’re okay to do this? I mean, if you want I can turn us around. It’s no problem. I’ll understand completely.”
“No.” Jared’s gaze drifted through the window to a row of headstones a few feet away.
Lawton. Reed. Wallace. He wondered when the last time any of them had a visitor, whether there were flowers, tearful goodbyes, prayers for salvation in the afterlife, or simple quiet reflection. Some people mourned death, and still others celebrated it. Jared had seen enough of it in his life that it felt somehow familiar, and yet he had no perception of whether his own feelings towards it were right or wrong. He remained ever confused, lost in the trappings of his own self-doubt.
“I’m just really bad at this, you know,” he added, chancing a look in the direction of his friend. “Like I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t know if anyone is actually good with this sort of thing, Jared. And anyone who says otherwise is either a liar or really fucking creepy.”
“I mean, okay, so maybe I’m not terrible with it. When Katie – Jon’s girlfriend – when she died I went to the funeral. I talked to Jon and tried to be reassuring. I tried to be strong for Amy while she cried. I just…” He shook his head as his gaze drifted to the floor mats below his feet. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“It’s always harder when it’s your own.”
“We shouldn’t be here.”
“Like I said, if you want to go just say the…”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Closing his eyes, Jared let his head fall back against the seat. He took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling in a long, drawn-out sigh. “I mean we shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. This is… I mean, everything that could have been done to prevent. I should have…”
“There was nothing you could do, Jared. There was nothing any of us could do.”
“They caught the guy living in my old apartment, Gabe. My apartment. How the fuck can I not think there was something I could do?” Tears had formed at the corners of his eyes, threatening to overflow. “This whole fucking mess is my fault.”
“Can’t go blaming yourself for the actions of a crazy person, Jared. You just can’t. You’ll drive yourself nuts if you keep thinking this way.”
“What the hell am I supposed to think, then?” he said. The door was cast open before Gabe had a chance to respond, and Jared slammed it behind him just as fast.
“Fuck,” Gabe whispered. He slammed a hand into the steering wheel in frustration before shutting off the engine. He was only a few feet behind him now, giving chase between the mazes of marble and granite. “Hey, Jared. Hold on a second.”
Jared didn’t listen, didn’t turn back. His pace was deliberate and his destination lay only a few feet away. He came to a halt before a small marble stone.
It was remarkably bare. There were no flowers or cards, no photos to remember a life lost too early. Only earth and stone.
“James,” Jared whispered, hearing the footsteps behind him slow and then stop. “His middle name was James.”
“Yeah? I didn’t know that.”
“Never understood why he wouldn’t just tell people that was his name,” Jared continued. “I mean, if I had a first name like ‘Mervin’ I’d probably want to call myself anything else, you know?”
“Maybe he liked it.” Gabe shrugged. “It’s kind of unique. Easy to remember. You don’t meet many Mervin’s in your life.”
“No. No, you really don’t.”
They stood in silence for a moment. If Jared thought himself bad at handling grief, then Gabe thought himself downright atrocious in the support role. At least the silence meant he didn’t run the risk of saying something that might be taken out of context. He was already pretty sure that his last statement had been interpreted by Jared as an odd compliment to his fallen friend, though that wasn’t the intent. Better to keep his mouth shut than risk saying something that might swing him the other way.
“Hey Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you mind if I have a few minutes?”
“No, not at all.”
Gabriel’s turn back towards the car was interrupted.
“Hey, umm… I just wanted to say thanks.” The corner of Jared’s mouth bent into an awkward half smile. He’d become adept at faking them over the course of his life, though today that particular defense had crumbled. “For everything, I mean. I know I can be kind of a giant pain in the ass sometimes, and you’ve been… Thanks.”
“Yeah. Anytime.” Gabe Simon didn’t particularly handle praise well, either. With a firm pat on the shoulder and a nod he trudged his way back to the car.
Jared waited until he was sure Gabe was out of earshot before stepping up to the stone and kneeling. He extended a hesitant hand towards the marble and let the tips of his fingers lightly skim the cool polished surface. Even as his skin brushed the mirrored stone it was hard to believe it was real, that he was gone never to return.
“Hey, pal.” The words came easier than he expected, though his emotions had redlined. Slowly he let his fingers trace the contours of the carving. “I, umm… I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I guess I was just running late like always, right?”
Again his smile was forced, though done for his own benefit. Around him the wind had picked up, rustling the branches of a nearby shrub and sending a few stray leaves tumbling his way.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you that you were right. You were right about a lot of things, actually. I’ve fucked everything up, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I can fix it.”
He fought to keep himself composed. The tears wanted to break free but he held them back. A crack in his voice was kept in check by quickly clearing his throat.
“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here because we should have never argued because you were right to begin with. You were right about Al’. Everything you said about her is true, and I didn’t want to believe you because… Because I wanted to see something that wasn’t there. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, and I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
Jared closed his eyes and drew a long trembling breath.
“I’ll see you around, Merv’.” Jared leaned closer, bringing his face within inches of the headstone. His next words were low, deathly quiet. “I’ll see you real soon.”
Late summer, 2007
Day 33
Jared found sleep most nights to be a restless affair. While he wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in his surroundings, the building itself and the ghosts it held within its walls could be a little unsettling at times. More still was the fact that his room shared a wall with a young man named Trent, whose own condition sometimes manifested itself in night terrors, and on more than one occasion Jared had found his neighbor wandering the corners of his own room.
There’d been commotion throughout the night. A series of loud bangs and a crash had pulled Jared out of sleep somewhere after 3am. He’d assumed at the time that Trent was on another terror-induced rampage, but tried to settle back to sleep when the noise died down after a few minutes. If falling asleep the first time was hard, the second time was all the harder, and by the time he’d started to nod off again the morning sun was threatening to peek through the window.
It wasn’t the sun that finally woke him, instead it was the shouting and hurried footsteps from the hall outside his door. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head, trying to drown out the noise in the hopes of catching a few more minutes of sleep, but the escalating situation outside prevented that from happening.
“Son of a bitch,” he sighed into the mattress.
Annoyed and weary he cast the pillow aside and willed himself towards the edge of the bed. The tile was cold against his feet, but the shock helped to pull him from the last bleary-eyed moments of sleep. He shuffled to the door, sliding his feet into a pair of flip-flop sandals along the way, and pulled on yesterday’s tee shirt. Yawning, he drew the door open, took a step into the hallway, and was almost barreled over by a pair of orderlies flanked by members of the hospitals security team.
“What the hell?”
They didn’t pause, offering only a simple “Sorry” as they continued their charge down the length of the hallway. With his curiosity piqued Jared took a few slow steps after them, pausing when the somber form of Marissa Kelly came shuffling towards him.
“Hey,” she said, keeping her eyes low.
She slipped her hands into her pockets. It was the same gray sweatshirt she always wore, the same one that everyone there had. “Team Colors” she called them. It was her way of making the mundane special.
“What’s up?”
“You don’t want to go down there, Jared. It’s pretty bad.”
“Why, what happened? I heard banging last night. Just figured it was Trent.”
“I wish.”
“Marissa… are you okay?” He stepped back into his room, holding the door for her to follow. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. You’re kinda freakin’ me out here.”
“No, I’m fine. Just a little shaken. I don’t know what happened, Jared. They’ve got the area by the offices blocked off. There’s glass all over the floor, and it looked like one of the guards was bleeding pretty bad.”
“Jesus, are you ser…” His voice trailed off as he leaned his head through the open door and focused his eyes in the direction that she’d come from. Sure enough at the end of the hall a middle-aged security guard held a large ice pack against his head. Jared couldn’t see the bleeding from where he was, but he had no reason to doubt it.
A second figure caught his eye, this one approaching from the other direction. He ducked back into his room and stepped to the edge of the bed where Marissa sat. He knelt as he took her hands in his, trying to be reassuring.
“I need you to wait here for a minute. I’m going to go see if I can get some answers, okay?” He offered a small smile. “I promise I’ll be right back.”
“Jared, wait. Where are you…?”
“This should just take a minute, so don’t go anywhere, okay?” He rose to his feet and darted back out into the hallway. It wasn’t long before he caught up with Sebastian Parker on his way to the scene. “Park! Jesus, Park. Hold on a second.”
“Jared, I’m sorry.” Sebastian had to try and catch his breath. His body wasn’t built for speed, and it had been some time since he’d been forced to run anywhere. “We… We had an incident last night. I really… I really need to deal with this.”
He tried to continue on his path, but Jared quickly stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest.
“No, I heard. Something about a guard bleeding.”
“Yes. Unfortunately that’s not the worst part. We might need to move everyone for a while, so I really need to get this sorted.” He tried to step around his patient. There was a scene that required his immediate attention. Unfortunately Jared had a childlike curiosity, and with it came persistence.
“Park, wait! Just tell me what happened. Is there anything I can do?”
“Alright, fine. Follow me. But we’ll keep this brief because I need to go.” Sebastian nodded to a passing orderly before grabbing Jared by the arm and tugging him into an empty room. “Last night one of the patients managed to get out of his room. He hit one of the guards and used his keys to get access to the pharmacy. He was found this morning during the shift change, but by then there was nothing anything anyone could do. He was already gone.”
Jared’s eyes went wide. This wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to hear. This wasn’t the kind of thing he needed to hear. He had come to this place hundreds of miles from his home to escape these thoughts, and now they were being dangled mere inches from his face.
“What, you mean like he ran off, right?” He tried to hold on to hope, that somehow this was all a giant misunderstanding and they’d find a man hiding behind a tree near the pond. His instincts told him better.
“No, Jared, he…”
“Who?” he asked abruptly. It was bad enough to think of what happened. Hearing it was something else entirely.
“Adam Hall.”
“Who?”
“Adam Hall. You might have seen him in the common area. He really liked to draw.”
Jared’s heart sank, his face paled, and it took a fair amount of effort to force his next words out past the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. “No, Park. No. Please, tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wouldn’t joke about this, Jared.” He placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder, but it offered little comfort. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I really need to get this sorted out. I need you to just sit tight. I have no idea how this is going to play out yet, so I’d really appreciate if you could just be patient.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
“Thank you.”
Sebastian stepped back out into the hall and immediately ran off in the direction of the chaos. For a moment Jared stood frozen as he tried to come to grips with the situation. It was only when he remembered that there was still a terrified girl waiting in his room that he remembered how to walk.
“I’m sorry about that.” His voice had gone quiet and he was still moving slow when he got back to his room and eased the door open. “Just trying to get some an… Hey, what’s wrong?”
Marissa sat on the edge of the bed nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Tears had welled at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just the chaos, is all. I sometimes get a little worked up when things get stressful.” She drew her left hand back fully into the sleeve or her shirt and wiped away a tear. “You learn anything?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“What’d he tell you? Oh my god, Jared, what’d he tell you? You have to tell me. You have to.”
“You really don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna know.”
“P-please? I mean I’ll find out anyway, right? Eventually they have to tell us.”
“They might not. There’s a chance that we might have to relocate, or whatever.”
“What does that mean?” She’d become frantic, desperate for answers she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted. “Please, Jared, you can’t not tell me.”
He shuffled to the bed and took a seat next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder. Immediately she took his hand, gripping it tight.
“Guard got hurt when someone broke into the pharmacy.”
“Oh my god, who would do that?”
“Dragon guy,” he said, and his gaze drifted to a corner of the room. She couldn’t see him be sad. She needed him to be strong. “Guess his name was Adam.”
“Was? What do you mean? He’s okay, right? You have to tell me he’s okay.”
Jared slowly shook his head, not taking his eyes off the tile. Marissa inhaled sharply and drew her hand to cover her mouth. A muffled squeak was the only sound she made when the tears started in full. She leaned in to him, pressing her face against his chest and staining his shirt with her tears.
“Why would anyone do that?” she pleaded. The question sent a shiver dancing the length of his spine.
“I…” He paused. Thirty-two days ago he thought he had the answer to that question – thought he had it all figured out. He’d come here because he had asked it of himself and been met with an immediate answer. But now? “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”
Friday, February 19, 2010
This time he would get it right.
There’d be no surprise afternoon visits from Gabriel Simon and his family. There’d be no Emma Simon to run screaming from the house upon seeing him on the floor. There’d be no hospital that could revive him or friends for him to explain himself to. He’d made his decision months ago only days after the accident, and while his first attempt had been unsuccessful Jared was certain that this time – this time there would be nothing left to chance.
He hadn’t bothered to scribble a note. There was no letter to explain away why he’d done what he was about to do. The chemicals would mix in his system. One by one his organs would shut down. There would be no explanation, only an end. He had even gone so far as to wait until the early hours of the morning so as to avoid any complications from unexpected guests. It had ruined his previous attempt. It wouldn’t ruin this one.
He sat silently on the edge of the tub, gently turning the clear orange bottle between his fingers. It was unmarked. There was no label to identify the contents, but whatever it contained was dangerous enough that he kept it hidden. It had been retrieved from its usual resting spot below the sink taped to a drainpipe at the base of the wall. It rattled with each turn, like a snake coiled and ready to pounce. Soon it would claim him as a victim, baring its fangs and sending a lethal surge of poison into his bloodstream.
“Pfft. Fuckin’ Gabe,” he snorted, chuckling as he stopped turning the bottle long enough to grab a half-empty bottle of gin from the floor. It was there to take the edge off, to lower his inhibitions and penetrate the last of his mental defenses. It would also help catalyze a fatal chemical reaction.
Jared hoped it would also have the effect of causing him to black out. He didn’t want to be awake when it happened. Ideally he’d drink to the point where the world started to fade away, hopeful that any of the pain to come would be spared him in his last few moments. Truly it would be a coward’s death.
He pressed a palm into his face, smearing the panicked sweat that had condensed there. Nervous laughter turned to tears that he tried to choke back and was unsuccessful. The prescription bottle, held tight in his left hand, rattled with each strike as he tapped it against his forehead.
I don’t have any choice, he thought. It has to be this way. It has to be.
Taking the drink in his free hand, Jared tried to push himself up from the edge of the bathtub, but lost his balance and tumbled backwards. He tripped against the lip of the bath and fell in against the wall where his head narrowly missed a soap dish. The impact cracked and chipped the tile behind him, leaving a shoulder-shaped impression in the porcelain. Through it all he’d somehow managed to keep from dropping either bottle.
“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed, setting down the pills to and running a hand to the back of his head. He drew his hand away and noted the few drops of blood smeared on his fingertips.
Whatever. Not gonna make any fuckin’ difference in a few minutes, anyway. Besides, what’s another bump on the head. Not like there’s anything useful up there.
Getting out of the tub was harder than he’d expected. The same compromised motor skills that made falling into the tub easy continued to work against him. He flailed about like a turtle that had been rolled onto its back, unable to right itself. Jared rolled onto his side, still keeping a tight grip on the bottle of gin – his Novocain. Under any other circumstances he might have found the sight of a grown man rolling about in a dry bathtub somewhat amusing.
Finally on his feet he staggered forward towards the sink. There on the vanity he set down both of his bottles side by side, and drew his eyes up to get a final look at his reflection.
Here we go. One last monumental fuck-up, one more great big disappointment, and then never again. Nobody has to worry about what you’ll do for them… or what you won’t do. Nobody else has to feel betrayed or abandoned. Nobody else has to suffer because you’re a goddamn walking catastrophe. Sure, they’ll be sad for a few days, but they’ll get over it. At least, they will once they realize you’re not worth the fucking effort.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the mirror. The glass felt cool against his skin – refreshing. His right hand found the bottle of gin, and as he pulled away from the glass he drew it to his lips.
For Andy, who I was supposed to be strong for, who left me alone and confused.
A second drink.
For Kage’, because I wasn’t careful… Because my fuck-up almost cost him the use of his legs… Because I wasn’t strong enough to do this when he died years ago…
A third drink followed, this one longer than the two before it.
For Merv, because you were right… Because you were so right and I was too fucking stupid to see it… Because I didn’t have your back as often as I should have, and because of all the time you wasted thinking I was worth the effort… You were a better friend than I deserved, and I hope you fucking know that… I hope you do… God, if I could take it back…
He pulled the bottle from his lips and gently ran his thumb over the label.
For Amy…
There he hesitated, and for a flash felt uncertain. He’d already made up his mind that this was the right thing to do, that this had to be done. There could be no second-guessing that now. Not when he was this close, not with to much already invested.
I…
Jared closed his eyes tight, clenched his teeth, and shook his head. He couldn’t let his resolve waver. His resolve would not waver.
I can’t be what you need…
One bottle was set down on the counter and another was picked up in its stead. With an expert turn the childproof cap was disengaged and left to fall into the sink. Jared swallowed hard. This was it, the moment where everything would end. He wondered what they’d think when the found him here, cold and lifeless. He hoped that the chemicals would be kind enough to at least leave him with a bit of dignity as he died, but ultimately knew that wasn’t the case.
“It’s been fun,” he whispered, drawing the small orange container to his lips.
Self-doubt crept in, and manifested itself as a tiny voice in the back of his mind.
“Coward,” it said, halting the movement of his hand.
He tried to will himself past it and failed, his hand frozen in space.
“Coward!” it cried out again.
I have to do this. I have to.
“Do you?” It spoke up again. The sound was familiar, a voice he hadn’t heard in almost eighteen years. “And what good will that serve, Jay? Tell me what it solves. Tell me what it fixes. Tell me what good it does anyone you know. Convince me and I’ll stop. Convince me and I’ll let you go through with it.”
The voice was small like that of a child, but it held the strength of a man. It had also used a nickname not heard since childhood – Jay. In his lifetime only one person had ever been allowed to call him that, but that person had met his end too early. The courage of Jared Sykes had spoken up, manifesting itself in the voice of the bravest person he’d ever known – his twin brother Andrew.
They deserve better than I can give, and I don’t deserve them.
“Liar. You’re not even trying,” it persisted. “Convince me, Jared. Convince me.”
I…
The first crack in his armor had been exposed. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to be easy, he knew that much, but there had been no voice of reason before. There had been nothing he couldn’t easily drown out with another shot of alcohol.
“Well?”
I can’t handle this.
“Liar!” The voiced boomed in his ears, loud enough that he turned and looked for an external source. “You’re not a coward, Jared, as much as you think you are. Maybe as much as you want yourself to be. It would make everything easier, wouldn’t it? You could dismiss every problem out of hand as being something you’re not equipped to deal with, but you know it would be a lie. You know it.”
But… but I don’t…
“Stop,” it pressed, growing greater in intensity. “Stop making excuses. Stop trying to convince yourself you’re something that you’re not. You’re not a coward, you’re not weak. If you’re so concerned about hurting other people then why are you this close to doing something that would devastate them?”
He had no answer. His thoughts had gone quiet. He’d been posed a similar question once before, and just as then the answer eluded him.
“Do you think your friends want to see your hurt yourself? Do you think Mervin would take any satisfaction from seeing you this way?”
…no…
“Do you think your brother would approve? He fought for his life against a disease that took him years before his time. Do you believe – do you honestly and truly believe that he would want to watch his own brother fight so hard against his life? Do you?”
No.
“Do you think that Amy, a girl whose own life has been all but destroyed by a woman who claimed to love her – do you think that she wants to see this? Do you have any idea what damage you would cause to take the only support she has out from under her? Are you honestly that selfish?”
No!
“Then just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Again he had no answer. Tears poured from his eyes, running the length of his cheeks and falling one by one into the sink below. He leaned forward, and cradled his face in his free hand. The other slowly brought the clear orange bottle over the sink, tipping and emptying the contents into the sink. The gin followed, and a turn of the faucet and the rush of cold water finished off what the alcohol didn’t dissolve.
“You’re stronger than this,” the voice continued. Its tone had become sweet, soothing. Safe. “Do not forget that.”
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Shortly after SCCW Temptation
The cool Seattle air felt refreshing against his skin as Jared stepped through the door of the Bank of America Arena en route to his car. His only goal was to get in his car, get back to his hotel, and then figure out a clever way to forget the events of the evening.
They’d done it to him again. The goddamn Dead Man’s Hand had done it to him again. It wasn’t that they’d charged the ring during his match with Lance Marshall - that was something he could handle. No, instead it was the mind games that had started to wear. A challenge by Lane Stevens for the Universal Championship should have been a moment to celebrate. After all, it would be Jared’s first such opportunity in the entirety of his career. What made the evening such a downer was the inclusion of a third party in the upcoming contest.
Jared Sykes had no desire to fight Amy Campbell a year ago when he had legitimate cause to hate her. He had even less desire to fight her now they had grown incredibly close.
He’d been fortunate to avoid most of the roster and staff after the show. He’d even forsaken a post-match shower just so he could get dressed and get out of Dodge all the quicker. And as he took his first step into the night air he hoped only that he wouldn’t run into any obstacles on his way to the car.
Alexandra Pierce had different intentions.
He’s seen her from the corner of his eye when he stepped through the door, and paused just long enough to shoot a quick glance in her direction. Given everything that Amy had confessed during her retreat to Big Bear, California, she was perhaps the last person he wanted anything to do with. And yet there she was, feverishly tapping at the touchscreen of her iPhone.
When the door to the arena swung closed, and it was obvious to her that he was alone, she slipped her phone into the holster at her side and pushed away from the wall.
“Jared?” She called after him in voice that was quiet and tinted ever so slightly with a nervous undercurrent. “Jared!”
His pace came a halt just shy of halfway from the silver Nissan Altima that served as his rental. His shoulders slumped, his head dropped, and he didn’t seem to care at all when the bag slid from his shoulder.
This was not part of the plan.
“What.” It wasn’t as much a question as it was an annoyed sigh, and he didn’t bother to turn when he said it.
“Is… is Amy still inside?” Had he been looking he might have noticed that her hands had bunched at the waist, as though the concept of having them were new to her. “I was hoping to get a few minutes with her…”
“Dunno,” he said, half-turning and glancing over his shoulder. His expression did little to mask his annoyance. “Haven’t seen her since the show ended.”
In his mind that was the end – conversation over. It was for this reason that he immediately turned back towards his car and leaned down to pick up his bag.
“Ah.” Strangely she seemed at a loss for words. “Okay. I’ll wait a little longer, but… if you see her, could you… no, nevermind. Just… I don’t really know what to say here. Maybe it’s best if I just go.”
Jared took a single step forward and stopped yet again. At his side he balled his left hand into a fist and slowly uncurled his fingers one at a time. Again the bag slid from his shoulder, the strap sliding the length of his arm. He managed to catch the woven nylon handles before it touched the ground, and with a healthy shove he threw the bag only a few feet from the trunk of his car.
He spun on his heels like a top, turning to face her full-on.
“Twice, huh?” he blurted suddenly. “Do me a favor and tell me she was kidding when I heard her say that.”
By then Alex had half-turned away, but his question gave her pause. “’Twice’? I’m not sure I follow.”
“Twice. Shot at. You know, with guns.” His eyes narrowed. His posture stiffened, and inside the front pocket of his New England Patriots hoodie his hands had once again balled into tight fists.
“Oh.” The statement deflated her. “It’s not really as open and shut as that. She was… I really shouldn’t talk about it. But… but no. She wasn’t kidding. She was brave, though. She didn’t have to face either situation.”
Jared could feel the muscles in his forearms tightening. This was not the answer he wanted.
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” The pace of his speech had quickened, punctuated by a shake of the head. “No, see. You… you were supposed to tell me she was kidding. That’s how this was supposed to go. It’s the only way this makes any fucking sense.”
He drew his hands from his pockets and pressed his fingers into his eyes, wondering if he pushed hard enough whether he could hit some magic reset button buried deep in his brain and turn the clock back on this scenario. When that didn’t work he clasped his hands over his head as though at any moment it might come flying off his neck.
“Alright then. Fine. If I ask you about the other stuff am I gonna fucking hate that answer to?”
“Probably.” Her smile was little more than a ghost. “My life is… complicated. I never meant to expose her to any danger. You have to believe that.”
“So the thing about her dad? Did you mean to expose her to that?”
Again he caught her off-guard. Her expression didn’t convey a sense of shock. No, Jared was convinced that no matter what you threw at Alexandra Pierce that she would not let her emotions get the better of her. Quizzical is the word he would put to it if pressed.
“Malcolm is… I didn’t know he was her father when I met her.”
Jared snorted a laugh and took a few steps forward, closing the gap that existed between them. There was no joy at all behind the half-smile he wore, and the grin seemed to fade more with each passing step.
“And what about the drugs, then?” His whisper was gravely quiet and his usually kind hazel eyes had drained of all their warmth. “Because I have it on pretty good authority that that was anything but accidental. I dare you – I fucking dare you to try and justify that little gem.”
“I can’t.” Once, after their first meeting, Jared had been so terrified of the woman he knew as Desade that the first thing he did upon leaving her office was to find the nearest bathroom. The fifteen minutes that followed were spent hunched over and vomiting. The voice that spoke carried none of that power. “What I did was… unforgivable, unconscionable. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my lifetime, but there is not one I regret more.”
She toed the ground and kept her head turned away, not to avoid his gaze but to hide the tear she wasn’t proud to shed. “It was before I even dreamt that she could be anything. I was losing control, terrified it would all come out of my hands. I let myself be convinced it was the only way.”
“But none of that justifies it,” she continued. “None of that excuses it. Yes, I have done this horrible, horrible thing, and however angry you are with me, however angry she is with me… it doesn’t compare – doesn’t even hold a candle -- to how much I hate myself right now.”
“Don’t bank on it.” His voice quivered under the weight of his anger. He had never been particularly adept at reigning in his emotions, but if this argument were to have any merit it would be necessary to do so then. “And for the record, it doesn’t fucking matter whether you thought she could be anything or not. Where the hell do you get off thinking that’s right under any circumstances?”
“Now. Then. Whenever.” The fury boiled inside him. He began pacing, constantly shuffling as though he was uncomfortable on his own feet. “That’s beyond fucked.”
“Don't you think I know that?' Her brows arched upwards sadly. 'I have been a horrible person for a lot of years, Jared. I can't ask her to forgive me, because I know I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it, I'll probably never deserve it.”
“And what, you think admitting that just magically fixes everything? Maybe sets you off on some grand path to absolution?” he scoffed. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.” Her shrug was small, coming only from one shoulder. “I don’t expect it to fix anything. It would probably be easier if I didn’t feel it.”
The opening was too tempting, the shot too easy to take.
“Well hey, I’m sure you’ve probably got part of her stash lyin’ around. Maybe that’ll numb you up.”
“I’ve thought about it,” she said as he hands found her pockets. “I’m not here to argue with you, Jared. This has nothing to do with you. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “She’s fuckin’ swell. She’s so good in fact that I got flown out to California for a few days to try and help her deal with it. You have any idea how hard that is? To see someone you care about go through this shit? No, probably not.” The sarcasm was gone. There was no more pacing, no more nervous shuffling. Only a dead stare remained. “Because I’m pretty sure you never cared about her at fucking all.”
“I hurt her, I’m sorry for it, I would give anything to change that.” Her eyes lifted up at last. “It would be easier if it all was a lie. I understand why you may believe that, but don’t you dare question what we had.”
“Riiiight. I’m sure it was wonderful, what with the lying, and the drugs, and the gunshots.”
“It wasn't like that, not all the time. The connection, the... the thrill. I can't explain it, and I won't try, but I love that woman in a way you can never really understand. So I'm going to walk away now before one of us says something we regret.” She turned partially away. “Lord knows neither of us can handle anymore of those.”
A single eyebrow hit the ceiling. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She didn’t quite turn back, speaking only over her shoulder. “We’ve all done things we regret, Jared. My list is longer than yours, but you don’t get to stand there and lecture me about a host of things that I already know, and moreover, that you know I already know. I waited out here for a chance to see her and I heard it all from them, and I don’t need to hear it from you. Whether you want to believe it or not, I love her, and I won’t see her hurt—“
A single finger shot upwards into the air, cutting her off mid-thought.
“Correction,” he said. “Hurt again.”
“Yes.” Her smile was tight. “I don’t want to see her hurt again because of me. But what Amy and I have -- had -- is none of your business, and I don’t have to stand here so you can feel better about your life by making me into a villain for you to vanquish.”
“Seriously?” Jared cocked his head to the side, almost puzzled by her statement. “Look, you can put whatever spin on this you want, but you and I both know that’s about as far from the truth as we’re gonna get. Tell Ashe, tell Quinn, tell whoever you want that Jared was being a dick. I’m fine with it. But let’s not kid ourselves here… I’m not making you into anything. You made your decisions. You’re smart enough to know there might be consequences. It’s not my fault you don’t feel like dealing with ‘em.”
He took a step back and wiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. The pacing had started again. It hadn’t reached the near-fervor of a moment prior, but the way things were trending it might not be too long.
“You think I like this? You think I wanted to get sucked back into all of this again? And don’t try to tell me this is none of my business. I’ve gone to bat for you more than most people you know, and at costs you couldn’t possibly fucking understand. And all that? It happened after you tried to fuck me over.” The pacing ground to an abrupt halt and he stepped forward again, this time closer than before. They were almost eye-to-eye, close enough that a breeze couldn’t pass between them. “Tell me I’m not invested.”
“Of course I know what I am,” she seethed. Thus far she’d remained relatively docile, but the more he pressed her the more likely it was that he’d once again meet the same woman who’d sent him screaming so long ago. “No one would let me forget even if I tried. But you knew what I was when you were ‘going to bat’ for me. You knew what I’d been when you told me you had my back.”
It was a quiet shrug, but what Jared didn’t see was that her left hand had balled itself into a tight fist. “So you don’t get to pretend otherwise now that it suits you. I am horrible, I hate myself worse than you could possibly imagine, but, yeah, you’re invested, Jared – whatever that means. You want to hate me? Yeah, fine, you probably should, but at least pretend to have a reason other than the one we both know you actually have.”
“I’m not the one pretending. I’m not the one who suddenly decided that a change in behavior was all I needed to make everything right with the world. You told me you wanted to be a nice person, a good person. Is this what a good person does, Alex? Do good people make a habit of ruining lives, especially for people they claim to love? Is it?!”
Jared rolled his shoulders back, tucking his thumbs into the rear belt loops of his shorts. The last time he’d taken this pose was in the hallway backstage at an episode of Temptation. Thad Denver, Spacely, had made the mistake of accusing him of having a hand in the abduction of Zach Marshall. On that night Jared didn’t hold this posture long, as he quickly sprung from it to tackle his friend to the floor.
“And yeah, maybe I gave you too much credit. Maybe I was willing to buy in on whatever lie you were selling because I wanted to believe you should get your second chance. I wanted to believe that under the façade there was an actual person instead of the monster everyone else told me was there. You have no idea how much it kills me – it fucking kills me - to know that I was wrong.”
“That would make this so much easier, wouldn’t it?” Alex lifted her chin defiantly, and cold gray eyes stared back into hazel. “I mean, if this were a hoax, then I wouldn’t need half a bottle of wine just to drown out my conscience every night. If I was lying, I sure as hell could stop bursting into tears at the drop of a goddamn hat, just because I miss her.”
No sooner did she speak the words did a single tear escape her eye. It was quickly wiped away by the fingers of her right hand, still painted a shade of pink partial to Eleanor Kannon-Hall.
“And you… you wouldn’t have to worry about looking like a dick.” If her smile were a cocktail it would be one part sad and two parts angry. It also wouldn’t take many to put a man on the floor. “Don’t worry, Jared, your precious reputation is safe, so you can stow that white knight garbage, because you’re the only one who buys it. I know full well that changing my attitude doesn’t undo the damage I’ve done, but I wasn’t trying to when I did what I did.”
Her fist had balled again, now so tight that those bright pink nails had dug into the flesh, threatening to draw blood. “No. I'm not expecting a magic spell to be cast, but I'm not about to give up just because you've given up hope. Funny how you're willing to forgive me for putting your best friend in a coma, but not for what I did to the girl you've got a thing for.”
Jared pressed his eyes shut and took a slow, deep breath in through clenched teeth. The sound that followed was a muted growl. Behind his back his thumbs remained in place, but the rest of his fingers curled and unfurled with a slow steady rhythm.
“Do you wanna know what the difference there is?” It was a level of self-control that even he didn’t know he possessed. “The difference is that I brought him here, and I put him in a position for that to happen. I know there are risks involved in what we do, and that was one I didn’t take into account. What I didn’t do was decide to fuck with his life for my own personal benefit. What I didn’t do was fill him up with drugs so he’d be the person I wanted him to be.”
He closed his eyes again as his head tipped to the side, and for a moment his gaze lingered on the ground below.
“You know what I did do, though? You wanna know what I get to carry with me forever? How about the fact that the last conversation that he and I ever had… the reason he stopped talking to me a few days before…” He brought his right hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I stood in the front hall of my house, and I looked my best friend dead in the face, and I told him that everybody gets a second chance. I told him that you should get a second chance.” Once again he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Living with that mistake is going to haunt me for a very, very long time.”
There was a strange desperation in her words. “So now it's my fault that your best friend got in an argument with you before he died? Your fucking self righteousness is... mind-boggling. Why don't you blame the Kennedy assassination on me, too?”
When she blew out a sigh her fist tightened, draining the color from her palm and threatening to draw blood. “Just face it, Jared. Right now, you want me to be a bad guy, because you want her for your fucking self, and you're afraid that she'll realize that I am sorry and that I do love her, and then you'll be by yourself. You want to blame me for this? Fine. But don't you fucking dare blame me for the fact that you fucked up the relationship with Mervin and now he's dead, because I think you did just fine without me involved.”
Her regret was evident the moment she said it. Her mouth opened into a small “O”, her eyes widened, and she waited.
Not long after his introduction to the company they had shared a conversation and a beer, he as “King Blueberry” and she as “Charlotte Ramone”. He didn’t know then what she was, not what she was capable of. On that night, as they were in the same match, Jared had made her a promise. He promised not to lay a hand on her. Months later a different conversation was held, this time as “King Blueberry” and Desade. On that night he knew, but it didn’t prevent him from reaffirming that vow.
He held to it when she ended Jonathan Rhine’s career. He held to it when she carried out an assault on he and his closest friends, ending with one of them in a coma. He even held to it when upon his return to the company he had saved her from Dusk only to have her stab him in the back. She had taken so much, given so little, and all the while he had sat on his hands unable to move.
No more, he thought. She had crossed the line, transcended the boundaries of decency and humanity and in doing so put the life of someone that he held dear at deliberate risk. For too long had he stood idly by as Alexandra Pierce deconstructed the lives of those around him, the people he cared most about.
The gears in his head locked into place, and in the blink of an eye that promise was shattered.
His right hand came up fast. Flesh met flesh. Jared could feel the sting where his hand met her face. But he never once broke eye contact. Every breath was slow, every breath was deliberate, and when his right hand returned to his side he felt no guilt.
“Turn around,” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper and brimming with venom. “Turn around, and walk away.”
She turned with the blow and stayed there for a moment, just long enough for him to realize the extent of what he’d done. Through it all neither his resolve did not falter. When she turned back her gaze had cooled, but this was not a positive sign. There were many stories associated with that look, and none of them had a happy ending.
“No,” she hissed back. “You’re going to have to hit me a harder than that to make me give up. I will not let you make me be her.”
Jared’s glare remained unwavering. His voice remained low.
“Fine, just remember that when I promised to keep her safe…” He leaned forward a bit, mostly to emphasize his point. “That also means from you. So be whatever you want. Good, bad, I don’t give a fuck, because whatever you are – whatever you think you are or how much you think you’ve changed…” What followed was a slight shake of the head and a quick raise of the eyebrows. “It isn’t human.”
He kept his eyes upon her as he took a few steps backwards in the direction of his car, turning only when he was fairly certain she wasn’t coming after him. Not to be defeated, Alex’s fury took hold. She shouted after him, mad enough that her body shook. He paused again and turned to chance a look over his shoulder, but it was no longer Alexandra Pierce that he saw.
In her place stood a great dragon. Fearsome and vile it spread great crimson wings that hid the stars and blackened the sky. Thick, sulfurous smoke poured from its nostrils as a torrent of flame shot towards the heavens. Bravely he turned his back to it, daring it to burn him in its rage. But with each step the cries of the leviathan grew weaker, more faint, until at last the beast was silent.
Slain.