The Coincidence 05 The Certainty of Violet & Luke (9 page)

‘Afraid I’ll run?’ I ask, wrapping my arms around myself as I step outside into the chilly night breeze.

He shrugs, staring out at the parking lot where Luke’s rustic truck is parked. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’ The door slams shut. ‘I’ll wait for you right here.’

I trot down the stairs, my heart hammering inside my chest. I remember the many things I had to do when I was younger by myself. At doctor’s appointments, one of my foster parents would wait for me in the waiting room. My visits with the police in the beginning, I was chaperoned by my foster mother at the time, which meant she’d sit on a chair nearby and file her nails. I remember sitting in the chair and just wanting to hold someone’s hand. I tried to hold her hand once, from which she causally slipped hers out. All I wanted was someone to comfort me.

What I wanted was my mom and dad. But that wasn’t possible since the reason I was there alone was because they were dead.

As I approach Luke’s truck, I can hear music playing and see smoke lacing out the cracked window. When I open the driver’s door, he’s messing around with his stereo and I end up scaring the crap out of him. He jumps, looking as though he’s about ready to hit me.

‘Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.’ He puts his cigarette out on the ground, caution in his eyes as his gaze elevates to me. ‘Are you ready to go?’

Shaking my head, I point over my shoulder at the police station. ‘I need you to come in there.’

He instantly frowns. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Not really, I just …’ I chew on my bottom lip. God, asking for help can be so difficult.
Just do it
for God sakes! ‘I just don’t want to be alone when I do this.’

As hard as it is to ask for help, his expression makes me feel the slightest bit better. ‘Okay.’ He grabs his keys, gets out of the truck, and shuts the door.

‘You have to wait in the waiting room, though … because … well, you know.’ There’s a bit of awkwardness, at least with me, having to remind him that it’s his mother in there.

But Luke tangles his fingers with mine like it’s the simplest thing in the world. If only everything was that simple, but even walking on my own anymore is getting complicated. Still it helps that Luke is there, helps that he tries to make it as easy as possible when the Detective makes him sit out in the waiting area as if he’s the criminal, helps that when I get back to the room with the two-way mirror, I know that he’s right out there in the same building, within running distance.

It makes it easier to breathe.

The room I’m standing in is small and dark, except for the light coming from the other side where they’re going to bring Mira Price in. The air smells like cigarettes and coffee and there are a few metal chairs behind me that I could probably sit down in, but I’m afraid if I move, I’ll run, so I stay planted in front of the window.

I swear to God I’m standing there for hours, when really it’s probably only a few minutes, maybe even seconds before the Detective joins me.

‘You ready for this?’ he asks, glancing down at the papers he’s been carrying around.

No.
‘Yes.’ I fidget with the leather band on my wrist, the one I put on to cover up what I did earlier. ‘What exactly am I supposed to do, though? Just tell you yes or no if I can remember her? ‘

He nods, distracted by the papers. ‘If she was the one there that night and you can identify her, then you’ll tell me. But it’s very important that you’re sure, okay?’

I nod. Like I would ever say anything else. Falsely identify Luke’s mom, that’s something I’d never want to do.

‘And we can get her to speak, too … I know you said you heard her speak, right?’ he asks as a door on the other side opens up.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I step up to the glass window. ‘Sing … I heard her sing …’ I trail off as a woman enters the room.

This is it.

This is it.

Holy shit, this is it.

She walks awkwardly as if her feet are too heavy for her legs, her shoes dragging across the floor. Her head is tipped down, her brown hair a veil around her face. She’s wringing her hands in front of her, nervous and scared. The first thing I think is that this can’t be the woman there that night. But I quickly learn that my initial observation of Mira Price is wrong because when she reaches the center of the room and turns to face the window, her expression is calm, her shoulders are squared. And those eyes … Those goddamn eyes that are as hollow as my heart used to be. They’re the color of Luke’s too, but still look so different – so lacking life and emotion. No, they’re not the same at all.

Mira’s eyes look hauntingly dead, pale, expressionless, and when she smiles it’s as if she’s pleased to be on the other side of the glass. But I’m just not sure it was her singing in the dark that night, and a sadness weeps inside me as I realize this and what it means – that I can’t identify her.

A tear or two falls from my eyes but I can’t seem to take my focus off of her. Her eyes are locked right in my direction too, even though she can’t see me. But it feels like she can, feels like I’m five years old again, hiding in the dark and she’s looking right at me, but never says a word.

Then her eyes grow more intense, her posture more confident. There’s a shift in the air, an omen perhaps, one that I should run away from, but I don’t budge. Her lips start to move, twist and conform as if she’s sickly pleased with what she’s about to do. When her voice leaves her mouth, it’s as if I’ve been jerked back to my childhood home and I’m all alone. A few simple sentences, that’s all it takes, for my world to forever change.

‘Lean into me. Lean into me,’ she sings slowly, looking right in my direction as if she can see me through the window. ‘Take. Help me. I need to understand. Help me. I can’t do this without you.’

Someone starts to scream. Shout. Bang on the glass. It’s hurting my ears … my hands … feels like I’m bleeding out, gushing wounds …

‘Violet! Violet! Calm down!’ Arms wind around my waist, the touch bringing me back to reality. I realize that the screaming and banging is coming from me. That I’ve lost it. Smashed my hand against the glass so hard that it feels like it’s broken. Detective Stephner has got a hold of me and is trying to get me to calm down. He yells something to someone, but I can’t focus on his words. I can only concentrate on the excruciating pain, the blinding rage, the scorching hatred for the woman singing on the other side, tormenting me with her lyrics, her voice, her eyes. My veins burn with the overpowering need to break through the window and hurt her, make her pay for what she did. I’ve never felt so much in my entire life and if the detective let me go, I don’t know what I’d do. Break through the glass maybe, just to get to her.

But Detective Stephner manages to get me out of the room before that happens, and I no longer have to see the fucking devil standing ten feet away, where the only thing separating us is a thin piece of glass. Yet the rage within me blazes and scalds me from the inside and I keep fighting to get away from him.

‘Let me go!’ I kick my legs, trying to break free, and end up knocking over a chair as we step out into the cubicle area. I’m causing a commotion, but I don’t give a shit. Let them all stare – I’m used to it. ‘She killed them! That stupid fucking song!’

‘Calm down … It’s going to be okay.’ He tries to me consoling as he maneuvers me around the desks and heads toward the front area of the building.

‘Where are we going?’ I gasp for air. ‘Are you kicking me out?’ Right as we say it, we round the corner and enter the waiting room where Luke is sitting. He’s staring at the ground, his head hung low, but his focus snaps up when we enter because I’m being extremely loud.

‘What happened?’ he asks as he rushes over toward me, scanning me from head to toe.

There’s an awkward transfer as Detective Stephner hands me over to Luke and I think in his own way Detective Stephner is helping me, as if he knows Luke is the one thing I need right now. ‘I need you to come with us to my office.’

Luke’s arms wrap around my waist and it takes some of the pain away, but not all of it. ‘Why?’ Luke asks Detective Stephner.

The detective looks at Luke. ‘Because I need to talk to Violet some more, but you’re the only one who she seems to listen to. So calm her down and bring her back please so we can have a rational conversation.’

‘Asshole,’ I say, even though I’m not really angry at him. Just angry.

The Detective shoots me a warning look then walks off.

After he vanishes around the corner again, Luke pulls me closer to him, my back pressed against his chest. ‘What’d she do?’

‘She sang that stupid fucked up song … no one even asked her to … it’s like she wanted to get caught or something.’ My breathing is ravenous, my heart tremulous.
Everything
about me is unsteady at the moment and the only thing holding me up is him.

‘No, she wanted to fuck with your head,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘That’s what she does.’

It’s strange to think how much he knows her, the monster standing on the other side of the glass. He’s firsthand felt her pain, felt the damage she can inflict, and as strange as it is, it makes me feel connected to him, calms me down the slightest bit.

He exhales. ‘The scream …’

‘That was me,’ I admit, struggling to breath normally again. ‘I lost it … I didn’t even know what was happening to me … I just sort of snapped.’

‘Baby … I …’

‘I’m fine.’

He places a kiss on the back of my head. ‘No you’re not. What can I do to help?’

‘You’re here … that’s enough for now.’ And I mean it. Luke is having this strange calming effect over me, like he’s holding me above the water when I feel like I’m about to drown again. ‘We should probably go back though before Detective Stephner thinks I’ve bailed.’

He nods then reluctantly releases me. I want to grab his arms and wrap them back around me, but he steps up to the side of me and slips his arm around the back of me. I look into his eyes, similar to the ones that belonged to the monster on the other glass, at least in the shape and color. But that’s it and everything else about them – everything else about him is different. He makes me feel comforted instead of utterly terrified. He makes me feel safe when no one else can.

See, this is what I’m afraid of. Losing this. What would I become if it was gone?

The answer is terrifying to think about.

I heard the scream. God I heard the scream. It sounded like Violet’s and I wanted to run to her but the receptionist wouldn’t let me back. I could only breathe freely again when I see Violet again. Then Violet told me what my mother did and I expected her to leave me, walk out on me right there. But she seems to be having the opposite reaction, wanting to be closer to me instead of further away.

She lets me lead her back to Detective Stephner’s office, my arm around her back and her head resting against my shoulder. She’s practically glued to my side, which I one hundred percent don’t mind. I just wish it was under different circumstances. Wish it wasn’t for this.

The rundown from the detective is quick. Even though he doesn’t full-out say it, he basically tells us that right now there’s probably enough evidence to build a case against Mira and that things will start to move. They are going to be questioning her, to try and find out who the other person was at Violet’s house that night.

After the detective is finished, he dismisses us¸ but stops me before I walk out. He kind of guides me back into the room as Violet wanders out into the cubicle area, unaware that the detective has pulled me back. ‘Just so you know, when this gets going, you might be contacted to be a witness … from both parties. I thought I’d let you know, considering,’ he nods his head in Violet’s direction.

I know what he’s saying. That not only could I help put my mom behind bars, but I could also help free her. Like I would ever do that. But the idea of going up in front of her to help put her away has me feeling like the scared little boy inside me, the one that grew up with that horrendous woman. Could I do it? Get up on a stand and talk about my mother with her sitting there watching me?

‘Thanks for the warning,’ I tell the detective then walk out of his office, my head swimming with thoughts, a lot that make me hate myself for being so fucking weak, so afraid of the woman who raised me – or the woman who I lived with when I was younger. Raised doesn’t seem like the right word at all.

‘What was that about?’ Violet asks as I walk past the cubicles and up to her.

I circle my arms around her waist. ‘Nothing. He just wanted me to keep an extra eye on you.’

‘You already do enough for me.’ She rests her head against my chest. ‘What more could you do?’

‘A lot, lot more,’ I assure her as we start for the door. ‘Come on, let’s get you home.’

‘Home sounds good.’ She sounds as exhausted as I feel.

A few minutes later, we’re in my truck, getting ready to drive down the road toward home. I’m about to pull out onto the street, when I notice Violet is cradling her arm against her chest.

I tap on the brake and stop in the exit area. ‘Wait. What happened to your arm?’

Violet blinks her attention away from the window, looks down at her arm, then back at me. ‘Oh … I hit it against the window when Mira sang … I can’t even really remember doing it … I just sort of lost it.’ Her eyes flash with an unnerving frustration that sends a chill down my spine. ‘See, this is why I have to do the things I do, Luke.’ She raises her arm and winces. ‘Otherwise I end up snapping and lose my shit.’

I want to be comforting, but I can’t when she’s talking about hurting herself. ‘There are other ways. Trust me, I know … remember how much I used to get into fights and I haven’t in a while. It’s because I found something else.’

‘Like what? ‘

‘Working out. School. Taking care of myself.’ I pause. ‘
You
.’

She frowns at the last thing I say. ‘I don’t want to be a chore for you.’

‘A
chore
? That’s what you think you are?’ I shake my head when she doesn’t answer then shove the truck into park and scoot across the seat toward her. I’m not even sure what I’m going to say, what I want to say, but stuff just starts pouring out. ‘First off, you’re anything but I chore. I lov … like being there for you.’ I hold her arm in my hand and she winces from my touch but her muscles unstiffen. ‘I just don’t want you hurting yourself anymore.’ I shut my mouth and concentrate on examining her arm. I plan on keeping my lips sealed, but there’s something in me, a pressure building and I need to let it out somehow. Maybe it’s because I told her I loved her today, that it’s had some sort of snowball effect, but whatever the hell it is my mind goes fucking crazy and my mouth continues to say things it shouldn’t. ‘We could be good … me and you … good together. And my mom’s going to jail now … we’ll make sure she’s behind bars forever …’ Another loud breath. ‘And I know there’s so much more shit ahead for us, so many more things to deal with, but I just need you to take care of yourself better. We can work on it, you and I, together. Getting better, I mean.’ I stop talking, shocked as fuck that all that shit came barreling out of my mouth. Apparently tonight is confessional night with all the shit I’m putting out there.