House at the End of the Street (9 page)

She strode across the grass, crossing the threshold to his property, knowing how much Sarah would hate that she was doing this. When she was a few feet away, Ryan
turned, offering her a small smile. “I really, really wanted to apologize for my mom last night,” Elissa said.

Ryan looked down at his hands. “It’s okay,” he said softly as he picked at his fingernails.

“It’s not okay.” Elissa climbed the rock, using the natural footholds to hoist herself up beside him. “I hope you didn’t take her too seriously. It was just a classic case of parentnoia.”

Ryan looked at the space between them and shook his head. “We’re not supposed to be alone,” he said. “Remember?”

Elissa shrugged it off. Who was her mom to tell Ryan Jacobsen what to do? They were neighbors, nothing more—he didn’t owe her anything. Just then she heard the phone inside her house, the ring sounding across the lawn. The cell in her pocket buzzed. She wanted to ignore it, but knew her mom would be even more suspicious if she didn’t pick up. Sarah’s voice was on the other end of the line. “Hey,” she said softly. “They hit me with another late shift tonight. I won’t be home until eleven. You gonna be okay?”

Elissa glanced sideways at Ryan, feeling the slightest pang of guilt. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“And you remember our agreement?” she pressed.

“Yes, how could I forget last night?” Elissa shot back. “I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up, a sick feeling in her stomach. Lying had never been the easiest thing for her, but she wasn’t about the give in to Sarah’s demands. Just
because Sarah had messed up in high school didn’t mean Elissa was going to.

When she put the phone back in her pocket Ryan was looking at her. “Again, I mention how we’re not supposed to be alone.”

“Trust me—if Sarah wanted to make rules for me, she should’ve started enforcing them five years ago. It’s too late now.” She pointed over her shoulder at her house. “I set the home phone to forward calls to my cell.”

Ryan laughed. “That’s kind of devious.”

“
I’m
trying to protect
her
.”

“Right…” Ryan laughed. “Well, technically we’re not actually in either house.”

Elissa inched closer to him, staring into the park, trying to see what he saw. “What were you looking at before, when I came up?”

Ryan lowered his head. “I don’t remember much from when I was a boy, but I remember my mom sitting here, and she’d tell me that everything has a secret. Everything. Like even that tree over there is hiding something special, if you look for it.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes at him. “That tree?” she asked, pointing to the birch at the edge of the forest. It looked totally normal.

“At first I couldn’t see it,” he said. “Then one day I could…”

Elissa looked at the tree, trying to see what Ryan was
talking about. He turned to her, resting his fingers gently on her chin. They were so cold they startled her. He tilted her head to one side, moving it just a fraction of an inch. She relaxed into it, enjoying how close he was to her, how gently he held her face.

As the angle shifted she could just make out what he was referring to. It was just like when her dad used to show her the moon.
There’s a face in it
, he’d say, trying to point out the nose and the eyes, the way the man always seemed to be looking down on the earth.
See?
She never could, until one day, shortly after he left…there it was. She looked up and it was so clear to her, like an optical illusion that has just come into focus.

“Oh my God,” she said softly. “There’s a face.” She could see the two eyes in the pitted surface, the way the mouth was formed by a long gash in the bark.

She smiled at Ryan, turning her face so their lips were only a few inches apart. His fingers still rested lightly on her chin. “People don’t notice the secrets, but they’re there. All around us. Hiding. Waiting to be found.”

Ryan looked down at her lips, running the pad of his thumb over the bottom one. She felt like his hands were made of fire—every place he touched made her skin feel burning hot. She let him hold his hand there, waiting until he met her eyes again. “I like the way you see things,” she said. “I like the way you see me.”

She felt his breath on her skin. He placed his other hand
on her cheek, stroking it, then brushed back a strand of hair. She felt them moving together, then his lips on hers, an urgency to the kiss. His hands held tightly to her cheek, his fingers pressed down into her skin. She felt suddenly awake. She pulled away playfully, and smiled.

“Come on,” she laughed, hopping down off the rock. “Let’s break some more rules.”

Ryan looked nervous, bashful even, as he followed her. She ran into his house, not stopping until they were inside the musty living room. She pulled him to her, and their lips met again. He was more assertive this time, his hand resting on the small of her back. He stroked her chin with his other hand as he kissed her, hard, on the mouth.

They fell into the couch, and she let his hands roam over her hips, grazing her stomach. Somewhere far off she heard a banging sound. He pulled back suddenly, his face tense. “What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he shrugged. He stood, going to the stereo. “I’m just going to put on some music.”

She smoothed down the fabric on the couch, waiting for him to come back, but he kept fiddling with the stereo. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” she said. Ryan didn’t turn around as she left.

Upstairs, she peered into the mirror, smoothing her eyebrows and wiping a corner of her lips. It was so nice to feel this way again, without a cloud of alcohol or pot. She felt a tingling on her lips still, and she laughed a little
to herself. She wondered what it must be like for Ryan to have contact after being alone for so long. She fluffed her hair and then went back down the stairs slowly, peering into the living room as she entered, expecting to see Ryan waiting for her on the couch.

But Ryan was still by the stereo and as soon as he saw her he rushed over and grabbed her arm. “You have to leave—now,” he said firmly. He looked scared or angry… she wasn’t sure. Elissa was confused by the sudden turn and didn’t have the presence of mind to protest as he ushered her down the narrow hallway, where a side door opened onto the lawn.

Elissa felt like she might cry. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Ryan, I’m sorry—What did I do?”

She started back into the house, but he grabbed her hand, yanking her toward the door. He unlocked it and urged her outside. “You’re not supposed to be here—go home! Go now!” he barked.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. He stared back for a second, expressionless. Her hurt flared into anger. She turned, running as fast as she could across the lawn, back to her house, as she heard the door slam behind her.

W
hile Elissa was upstairs, Ryan kept his fingers on the volume dial of the old stereo, twisting it on, trying to get the right volume. Carrie Anne was up. He could hear her downstairs, and it was possible Elissa had heard her too. He spun around, making sure Elissa had closed the door of the bathroom. That’s when he saw her.

Carrie Anne had somehow gotten out of her room, and escaped the restraints that held her to the bed. She was in the kitchen, searching the drawers for a knife.

Elissa was still upstairs. He heard the toilet flush, and the door opened again. He backed up toward the kitchen, thankful when Carrie Anne moved behind the low partition wall. She was shaking, he could tell. He hadn’t given her the sedatives yet today.

He could see the hurt and confusion on Elissa’s face, but he had no time to explain as he shoved her outside. He couldn’t let Carrie Anne hurt her. Ryan’s heart was pounding in his chest as he locked the side door, making sure Carrie Anne couldn’t follow Elissa out. Then he turned back to the living room, carefully moving through it, turning up the volume on the stereo to muffle her screams. Turning into the kitchen, he saw her near the counter, a long knife in her hand. She didn’t look at him as she bolted for the front door, pushing out into the growing darkness.

He ran after her, afraid Elissa might see them from her front window. But Carrie Anne turned left. She circled back through the woods, pumping her arms, her blond hair swinging back and forth as she ran. He sprinted after her, trying to keep her in his sight. But as the sun set, it was harder to see in the dense shade of the trees. She moved deeper into the state park, where the land opened up to a golf course.

He watched her run toward the course. A sedan was parked near the lookout point several yards away. He knew couples sometimes went there at dusk to watch the sun set over the town. No one could see her—he couldn’t let them. He didn’t want to yell, for fear they’d hear him. So instead he darted through the trees, moving right as she went left, hoping he could loop around and cut her off.

He never should have let Elissa inside again. He knew Carrie Anne was dangerous, and if she escaped now, if he
lost her in the woods, there was the chance she’d return for them both. He tried to push the thoughts away as he ran faster, his legs burning. When he cut across the edge of the park, he saw her—her blond hair visible from a few yards away. She was focused on the car parked on the landing. He watched her, making sure the knife was held in front of her as he ran.

Within a few steps, he had come up behind her, tightening one arm around her neck. She tried to stab him, but he grabbed her other hand and squeezed it until she released the knife. Then he brought her to the ground, laying her down on top of him. He settled into the dirt, hoping they couldn’t be seen from the lookout point. But there was the sound of a car door opening. A man called out, saying something Ryan couldn’t understand.

He held Carrie Anne closer, squeezing her hard. He couldn’t be discovered. He couldn’t let her be found. She had to be so quiet now. She couldn’t let out even a single sound. They stayed like that for ten minutes, maybe more, until her body relaxed against his and she was still. He regretted not giving her the sedatives this afternoon. Why hadn’t he just come inside and checked on her, if only for a few minutes?

Finally, he heard the car pull away from the lookout point. The engine faded in the distance. When the forest was completely silent, he finally let her go. She tumbled off of him, her body heavy, her arms falling at strange angles
by her side. “Carrie Anne?” he asked. He brushed her hair away from her face, but her skin was a whitish blue. “Get up.”

She didn’t respond. He shook her by the shoulders, but she still didn’t move. “Carrie Anne,” he said, breathless. He was starting to shake, he was so nervous. “Please?”

Then he noticed the pink and blue marks around her neck from where he was holding her. How long had he been pressing his forearm to her throat? He’d just been trying to keep her still. He hadn’t wanted anyone to discover them. He leaned down, listening for her breath, but no air came out of her nose or mouth. She was dead. After all this time, trying to keep her safe—to keep everyone safe—Carrie Anne was dead.

He pounded his fists into the ground, punching over and over until his knuckles bled. What had he done? He had killed her, he had killed his own sister. What would his parents think of him now? He started to cry, heavy choked sobs. Tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes. What was he to do?

Every moment from their childhood came rushing back to him. The first time he’d held her, when she was just a baby. That picture still hung on the wall in his bedroom. How they’d made forts in the backyard, covering themselves with the old tarp from the garage. Then he remembered his parents’ faces when they’d discovered Carrie
Anne lying on the ground by the swing set, the bloody spit that covered her lips.
You did this
, his mother had said, a low fury rising in her voice.
You did this to your sister.

He hunched over, feeling as though everyone in his life had left him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He just kept muttering her name:
Carrie Anne, Carrie Anne, Carrie Anne.

I
t was 2
AM
. Ryan sat at the counter of an old coffee shop off the highway. His fingernails were still caked with dirt. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink. He wasn’t sure he could even hold down a sip of water.