Secrets Hidden in Silence

by Ranye Auster

first published online 2009, revised 2010

My name is Dimitri and I am mute, by choice. Silent to hide a secret black as night, silent to hide
the taint upon my soul, the taint left by a serial killer.
Green eyes and pink streaks
Junior year.
Some things are better left unknown, cloaked deep in the depths of darkness thus never to see the
light of day. Some secrets are best left undiscovered, unspoken, buried deep in cold damp earth. I
shiver at the thought, at the memories that refuse to fade and continue to haunt me. I absently rub at
my skin, trying to chase the deep chill out. I'm always cold, even in the middle of summer, chilled
from within and no amount of rubbing at my skin ever helps, making my absent habit rather
pointless.
My name is Dimitri. Call me Dim and I just might flame you. Don't look at me like that! It could've
been worse. I was originally going to be named Vladimir after some famous Russian or other. My
mother loved anything Russian to the point of passionate obsession. Anyway, my name is Dimitri
and I have issues, or at least, that's what I have been told. I'm mute. No, not because of any physical
handicap or anything. I'm mute, by choice. I am capable of speech, or at least used to be before I
stopped speaking. I just choose not to. I've not spoken a word, not made a single sound since I was
six years old, where I spent my last few moments with a voice screaming and sobbing, I think. That
was ten years ago. I do not cry anymore. It's a waste of effort, of time and breath. It doesn't change
anything. Ever.
So back to the point, I'm Dimitri and today I'm starting at a new school. Again! And in case your
mathematical skills are lacking, I'm sixteen. Going on seventeen, mind you. This is my sixth school,
in a sixth State. Not very conductive towards making friends, even if my chances were not already
complicated by the fact that I'm voluntarily mute. Refusing to speak? Sure death for friendship,
believe me, especially when you attend a normal public high school. People tend to look at you
funny when you start waving your hands about and being different makes you a target. Usually for
pain. Most people don't like different and don't bother trying to get to know you, don't bother trying
to find out why. This makes it easier to keep my secrets. People don't usually care enough to realise
that I have something to hide, seeing only what they choose to perceive, usually on a shallow visual
level.
So here I am, in yet another State, new hunting grounds for him, staring at my new school. I adjust
my bag on my shoulder, watching the crowd of teenagers before me, flocking towards a rather non-
descript building like the mindless animals that they are. Red face brick, square windows and grey
rather lifeless concrete, as I've said, non-descript. A rather depressing atmosphere hangs in the air,
lying just beneath the shallow illusion of happiness given by the chattering students, but, if there's
one thing that I've noticed about schools, it's that, no matter where you go, no matter what the
building looks like, they're all ultimately the same, so it doesn't make a difference to me. The people
inside are usually what defines a school and the people inside are a bunch of idiots. So I'm jaded.
Sue me!
I climb the narrow, rather steep stairs, heading straight towards the rather boring cement building, a
prison of sorts, ignoring the students around me. I don't particularly care to know them and know
from experience that they don't particularly care to know me. Students at school can basically be
divided into a number of groups. There are the jocks and cheerleaders, students obsessed with
sports, physical achievements, appearances and being popular. Then there are the nerds, book
worms and computer geeks obsessed with the library, code, cultural achievements, chess and getting
that A. Those that don't fit into one of those two groups form smaller groups of their own, Goths,
emos, drama nuts, giggling fan girls, arrogant socialites, the list goes on… small groups of people
defined by some kind of common interest.
Then there are those like me. Those that simply just do not fit in, not into any of those groups,
shunned by them all, usually the brunt of rather cruel jokes. I guess every school needs people like
me, to amuse the masses and bring together some of the divergent groups, giving them another
common factor to define them and to give them some sense of satisfaction. Personally, I don't really
care. There is nothing they can do to me that would give me nightmares. That honour has already
been reserved, taken, by a horror these shallow idiots cannot even begin to imagine let alone
understand. Jaded, that's me. If you want a good lawyer don't ask me for any advice. I avoid those…
like the plague, along with our trusty men in blue. I do not need any more complexity in my life.
I weave through the crowd of chattering students, my gaze locked upon the ground, avoiding
looking at anyone. Looking at someone draws their attention to you. A gaze, intangible as it may
seem, has the strange ability of making itself known, felt regardless of one's efforts to ignore it.
Looking down delays the inevitable for me, keeps me from being noticed for longer. Only thing
is… as good a tactic as it is, it does have its drawbacks. Bump. Yes, you guessed it, not looking up
makes it difficult to see where you're going!
So here I am, Dimitri, flat on the ground, failing miserably in my attempts to remain unnoticed.
Nothing draws attention more than things going wrong and things are going horribly wrong on my
first day here. Go figure. I love you too Murphy. "Why the hell don't you watch where you're
going?" A harsh voice demands; obviously expecting a response from me. The owner of the voice is
not at all impressed when I remain silent, refusing to look up at him and in doing so refusing to
acknowledge him.
I don't like looking at people. It requires that I register them, define them as more than simple
objects to avoid and so acknowledge their existence. That is something I refuse to do. Why bother
to acknowledge someone that will soon disappear, someone I'll never see again once I leave here,
once we move yet again, to a seventh state. If there's any certainty in my life, that would be it. We
will be moving again and I will be starting at a seventh school before I'm done with my education,
assuming I live that long that is.
"Didn't you hear me?" The voice snarls, harsh hands taking hold of me, pulling me up and violently
shoving me into the lockers. Pain flares through my body, intense and sharp. Damn, he's strong. He
hits hard.
I remain silent, not making a sound. Silence has become my refuge, my prison, a contradiction of
existence that is all I truly know. I doubt I would be able to make a sound even if I wanted to, which
I don't! I swear, I don't! 'I hear a single sound from you and I'll do the same to you.' His voice
echoes through my mind, words I cannot escape, spoken a long time ago but still clear in my mind,
as if they were spoken yesterday. Sometimes I wonder if I still have my voice. Do you lose your
voice if you don't use it? Perhaps. I wouldn't know and I'm not about to try and find out.
I blink down at the ground, ignoring the physical pain and the rough hands, allowing my mind to
drift away from the here and now. It's a rather useful ability I've managed to learn, an ability I make
full use of when I don't want to face reality, when I want to forget. I simply withdraw into darkness,
where nothing exists, not sound, not touch, not pain, not thought, not memory… not me.
I feel myself begin to drift away; it's like floating really, subtle but overpowering. The harsh words
fade and begin to lose clarity and meaning as I continue to draw away from reality. "Kevin, shove
off." I blink in surprise, suddenly jerked back to reality, by a voice? I can't help it, I cannot resist it.
I'm drawn to the voice, the smooth baritone that gently glides into my hearing, my mind, and into
my awareness. I look up in surprise to see my attacker and defender locked in heated battle, neither
speaking nor even moving for that matter. Both are glaring up a storm, each trying to overpower the
other. As I've already pointed out, a person's gaze can be miraculously powerful. It's amazing how
much can be said in silence alone. I, of all people, know that better than most.
"Back off, Beau. This has nothing to do with you." My attacker, Kevin, if my defender is to be
believed, snarls at Beau, apparently my defender. Kevin is your typical jock, muscled, broad
shoulders, tall with short blonde hair and light blue eyes. Typical and terribly cliché but here he is,
even wearing some kind of football jacket. Beau on the other hand, is a little bit of a contradiction.
He has a similar build to Kevin, broad shouldered, obvious muscles and tall, taller than Kevin and
definitely considerably taller than me. It's his hair that throws me though. His body, his posture and
the way he carries himself, all of it literally screams jock but his hair… No, that screams eccentric.
It's three colours! Deep chocolate brown with deep purple and pink streaks running through it. It's
cut short but has long strands in the front, reaching his chin. It's these strands that are streaked.
Makes sense but why pink of all colours?
Beau snorts. "Not my business? Now you know I'm not going to let you bully the new guy on his
first day at school." Beau places himself pointedly between Kevin and me, blocking the jock's
access to me. I expected a scene, really I did. I expected Kevin to punch Beau, to mock him, taunt
him, swear at him and maybe even make him bleed, something, anything to show his rather petty
displeasure. He looks like the type that would do something like that. I was certainly not expecting
what is happening. Kevin simply turns and walks away, the conflict suddenly gone, the attention
that had been upon us, fading along with it. Beau turns to me, making me wish I could gasp, his
eyes a deep clear green, are staring at me, filled with warmth and friendliness.
Damn.
Remember what I said about meeting someone's gaze? About how it makes someone real? Well
Beau is now terribly real to me, invading my mind and my senses. He's a person, a soul, no longer a
mere object around which I merely have to manoeuvre and I have no idea what to do about it. "Hi,
I'm Beau." He introduces himself, holding his hand out towards me and smiling warmly, completely
ignoring the fact that I seem to be gaping at him. "If Kevin gives you any grief, let me know and I'll
take care of it." He continues to speak, seemingly oblivious to my obvious lack of reaction.
Ringing echoes through my ears, a high pitched incessant noise of a repetitive nature. At first I think
it's my head, perhaps ringing from shock or maybe from some unnoticed blow from Kevin. It's only
when Beau's eyes widen, his hand dropping to his side that I realise it's the school bell. "Damn." He
mutters giving me an apologetic look. "I'm going to be late. I'll show you around later." He
promises, turning and running down that hall, leaving me staring after him, wondering what just
happened.

Signs and portents

He's in my class. What I mean is he, as in Beau, is in my art class! What kind of self respecting jock
dyes his hair pink and purple and attends art class? Yes, he's a jock. I managed to confirm as much
when he ran out onto the football field all decked out in a football jersey, first period no less. No, I
have not been watching him. I was simply looking out the window trying to ignore the rather boring
rambles of my mathematics teacher when I saw him run out to join the team for some early morning
practice. Strange that... having to practice first thing in the morning. Isn't it usually an after school
activity? Please note: Mathematics, first period of my first day. Does Murphy not have a heart?
Anyway, he has a rather interesting gait when he runs. He favours his left side from what I can see.
Perhaps he's left handed. What? Don't look at me like that! He stands out on the field, his bright
pink streaks visible from a mile away and it looks strange, especially on a jock, but then again, he
strikes me as strange in general. I mean, he's taking art for crying out loud. How much more strange
can things get? Okay, maybe I should not be asking that question. Murphy does seem to favour me
after all and that may be just asking for trouble. Next thing I know I'll be in some alternate
dimension fighting dragons or something.
Dragons… I absently scribble a tiny sketch of a drake in the corner of my small sketch pad, one I
carry everywhere. It's filled with random sketches as well it should be. I like to have it with me. It
gives me something to do and provides relief when emotion overwhelms me, causing my body to
shake with nervous energy. Okay, so I stress too much, what of it? I deal and so should you. Take it
or leave it. I don't really care either way, you know.
Okay, back to the topic at hand. He's in my class, and sitting right beside me no less! Doodling in
his own sketch pad as the teacher goes into a detailed explanation about light and depth. Okay, so
technically I'm in his class seeing as I'm taking advanced art and am ahead of my year in this
subject. It's the only class I'm ahead in. I'm not all that good in the others. You actually have to work
and do homework in order to be good in the others and I don't do much of that. Don't really have the
time or the inclination. So technically speaking I'm in his class, but who cares about technicalities
anyway.
What does he think he's doing, seating himself beside me, after all the effort I went to, in order to
drag my easel to the back of the classroom. It's the dimmest corner and most certainly the worst
place to sit if one is looking for good lighting, which is what our teacher is rambling on about, all
the while sending pointed glances at him and me, rather obviously wanting us to get the hint and
move. I'm not moving. I like this corner, away from all the people I refuse to acknowledge, a private
alcove for me, my paper and my pencil. Or at least it was private until he dragged his easel all the
way from the front of the classroom, placing it beside mine, grinning cheekily at me as he did so.
Oh, the audacity!
I rapidly tap my pencil against the paper I'm supposed to be drawing on, staring blankly ahead as I
do so. I'm trying my utmost to ignore him. I can sense his gaze boring into me with such intensity
that I can almost feel the thought patterns behind it. Why is he looking at me? There is nothing
interesting to look at. A slight figure clothed in baggy clothes, black of course. No need to break out
of stereotypes here.
I have long black hair that I keep tied up so that it doesn't get in the way of my drawing, pale skin
and dark blue eyes. My eyes are cold, filled with death and desolation. I realised that a long time
ago. That was when I stopped looking into mirrors. Sure, I do still see my reflection in mirrors
when in the bathroom and in windows when on the street but there's a big difference between
merely seeing and looking. Looking requires that you actually pay attention to what you see. Now
Beau. He's looking at me, not simply seeing me, and that disturbs me greatly because it means he's
acknowledging me as more than a shadow… as a person and I don't want that.
I glance at him. I can't help it. He has been doing nothing but looking at me from the moment he
walked in and that was… I glance at my watch before glancing back at him… twenty minutes ago.
How can you stare at someone for twenty bloody minutes? Is that even normal? He grins at me,
green eyes sparkling in amusement seeming completely oblivious to the glare I'm doing my best to
direct at him. And to add insult to injury he's waving at me! Is it just me or is he rather stupid?
I drop my gaze once more, staring at the blank page on the easel before me, before glancing down
to the tiny drake drawn in the sketch pad on my lap. I blink when a rough sound pulls me out of my
absent minded staring, the scraping of a chair and easel along the floor as it's being dragged closer
towards me! I glance up once more to find Beau all but in my face, setting his easel up right beside
mine, no longer leaving any space between the two drawing surfaces. What the hell does he think
he's doing?!
He must be psychic, either that or my face is more expressive than I was led to believe because the
next thing I know, he's responding to my unvoiced question. "Miss Davenport told us to pair up."
Beau explains clearly amused. "We're to make a composite drawing where you draw half and I draw
the other half."
'Are you stupid? Pairing up with me?' I wave my hands in agitation, signing as I do so,
subconsciously giving voice, silent as it may be, to my disbelief. The first school I ever attended
had no idea that I was capable of speech, and finding that I never made a sound sent me to learn
sign language. That's what I now use to express myself, what I've replaced my voice with, even
though I know, no one understands it. Not in the circles I'm forced to move in anyway, not in public
schools. That's okay though. It makes it easier to avoid an inevitable slip up because the best way to
keep a secret is not to know it to begin with. Unfortunately, I have not been given that option. 'You
don't even know if I can draw'.
I stare at him, shock coursing through me when he laughs, a rich chuckle escaping him. He leans
forward, gently tapping the sketch pad in my lap, pointing to the little drake I had scribbled there
during my momentary lapse into distraction. "No, I'm not stupid. Of course you can draw. Damned
well I might add." He comments, speaking calmly seeming to revel in my stare of utter disbelief.
What? He'd understood me? Since when do jocks dye their hair pink and purple, take art class and
understand sign language?!
'So what do you want to draw?' He signs back at me, no longer speaking. Cheekily I might add. He
is definitely enjoying my shock. That much is more than apparent, His lips twitch as he fights to
keep his laughter in. Okay, let me add something to my own inner exclamation of disbelief. Since
when can jocks speak using sign language? I must have missed the memo. Damn Murphy and his
moodiness. What on earth does he think he's doing to my life?
I stare at Beau, suddenly feeling incredibly sullen. What right does he, some freakish jock that
refuses to conform to the stereotype that's supposed to describe him, have to understand me? Why
on earth does he know sign language? This has never happened before and I really don't know how
to react. I'm rather accustomed to being unable to communicate with those around me due to the
fact that they can't understand me. Why do I suddenly have to deal with someone who can?
Beau raises an eyebrow at my lack of response, still looking at me. He's searching for something.
Understanding probably but I'm not about to make this easy on him, staring blankly back, refusing
to let him know how much he's getting to me. Can he really not look at anything else? The cocky
confidence fades from his features to be replaced by a puzzled frown. It seems he has suddenly hit a
wall of uncertainty when it comes to facing me. I resist the urge to smile liking the fact that perhaps
I'm able to win over his incessant cheer.
He scowls for a moment before sighing deeply and running a hand through his strangely coloured
hair. "You know. We don't really have time to waste. The rough draft has to be in by the end of the
period." He speaks softly, obviously having realised that I'm not deaf. Either that or he has assumed
I can easily read his lips. It's amazing how easily people tend to make assumptions. Speak to them
in sign language and they assume you're deaf. They then proceed to yell at you, slowly and
deliberately speaking each word as if it would really make a difference. If you're deaf you can't hear
them. If, like me, you aren't, then you can hear them perfectly well, so raising your voice really
makes no difference at all.
Regardless of that fact, people do still tend to make assumptions, acting on them without even
thinking, as if by some strange inbred instinct. But not Beau apparently, he's too weird for that it
seems. Nothing fits any of the stereotypes I've managed to establish over the years, and that really
bothers me. Stereotypes are safe. You always know what you can expect from them. I'm beginning
to realise that there's no way I'm going to be able to figure out what to expect from Beau. Why is he
bothering himself with me to begin with?
I sigh, the sound barely a whisper of breath as I give in. He does have a point. Picking up my pencil
I quickly sketch a rough draft, my pencil moving easily across the paper. I draw a warrior, locked in
battle with a dragon, the dragon's body taking up one half of the image and the warrior the other.
Lifting it up I show it to Beau, only to blink, a feeling of dread coursing through me when his eyes
widen in rather obvious surprise. His moment of shock is followed by that amusement of his,
amusement that's starting to grate on my nerves, his lips tilting up just slightly at each corner as he
turns his gaze to me. I glance down at my own drawing, wondering absently what on earth could be
amusing him so, only to realise that the warrior I've sketched, bears a remarkable resemblance to
him.

Puzzle of my heart
Escape. That was all I can really think of when the bell finally rings. I need to escape this person
that's forcing me to acknowledge his existence. How does he do that? Why is he doing that? I'm a
new student, entering a new school mid way through the year. No one is interested in a new kid mid
way through the year. The little groups that everyone is divided into have already been well
established and adding a new kid to the mix only serves to disrupt the rather fragile balance. I am
obviously younger than him seeing as I'm in the year below him, so why on earth is he bothering
with me to begin with? It simply does not make sense. Shouldn't he be going out of his way to bully
me? Taunt me? Maybe even punch me? Why is he being nice to me?
I head straight for the door, my bag not even closed in my haste to escape the room. I slip out
between the crowd of students gathering at the door, all just as eager as I, though for reasons very
different to my own, and practically run down the hallway blindly heading in a random direction. I
don't really care where I go. It's now lunch period and all I can think of is escaping that gaze that
keeps looking at me, as if he can sense all my secrets. Secrets that are better left unknown.
"You forgot this." I all but jump out of my skin when I hear his voice, right beside me, practically
whispering the words into my ear. He's so close that I can feel his breath upon my skin, warm heat
that contrasts with the chill that resides deep within me. I flinch away from him, as if burned, the
heat disconcerting, unfamiliar and more than a little unsettling. Especially when I realise just how
close he has to be in order for me to feel it. How had he done that? How had he managed to sneak
up upon me without me realising it?
I glance at him before glancing at his hands, wondering what he was talking about only to realise
that he's holding my little sketch book. The one I had drawn the tiny drake in. How did I manage to
leave that behind? I clench my hand, itching to have my book back, yet afraid to reach out for it. In
order to take my book from him I'll have to reach out towards him, perhaps touch him, feel his
warm skin beneath my cold fingertips. I avoid touching others as much as possible, as much as I
avoid their eyes, because touch is confirmation of life. Life I do not wish to acknowledge, cannot
acknowledge for if I do… it will make my secrets harder to bear and that might just break me.
He raises his eyebrows in question, a slight smile upon his lips, almost as if he's challenging me,
daring me to take the book from him, unruffled by my obvious hesitation to reach out. Anger
courses through me at the sight. How dare he smirk at me? How dare he, understanding nothing
about me, challenge me so? Anger makes me forget my hesitance as I reach out to snatch my book
from his grasp.
I was right. His touch is warm; the heat flowing from him into me with the rush of suddenly
grounded electricity, burning me from within. I can still feel my fingers tingling from it, from the
mere brush upon his skin. Why me?
"I promised to show you around." He states calmly, completely oblivious to the turmoil he's causing
within me. It's unjust. How can he remain oblivious when he's turning me inside out and upside
down? Damn you, Murphy, you and your incessant interfering in my life. Could you not just let me
be for once? A shadow, unseen by those around me, perhaps with a touch of amnesia? Oblivious to
the darkness of the secret I hold? Never mind. Murphy never listens to me, anyway.
I shove my book into my bag, which is still gaping open, probably tempting all those little thieves
hidden in the shadows, masquerading as harmless innocent students, but I don't care. I don't have
anything worth stealing. Or perhaps I should rephrase that. It may be more accurate to say that I
don't possess anything that holds any value to me. There is a big difference between something
having some kind of commercial value and something having value to a person. Take me for
instance. Go ahead steal the TV, the DVD player, my cellular phone or even the I-pod that I
received from my father this morning. I don't care. It holds no value to me. If you steal my art book,
however, I just might care enough to come after you. See, big difference.
Anyway, I shove my sketchpad into my bag in order to free my hands, so that I may, oh horror,
actually attempt to communicate with someone. 'It's alright.' I sign, ignoring the strange looks I'm
receiving from people around me, people that don't really exist in my world, having no definition to
me. Unlike Beau! 'I can find my way around.'
"Nonsense." He smiles at me, a smile that, if I were so inclined, would make my toes curl. Good
thing I'm not so inclined then, isn't it? Saves me a set of toes, you know. "It's much easier to actually
get around once you know where everything is. It's no bother." That said, he abruptly grabs my
hand and begins to drag me through the school. Unceremoniously I might add. What on earth is up
with this jock? Does he not comprehend the concept of personal space? I guess not, for if he did, he
would've left me alone long ago.
So here I am, my life once again disrupted by a pink haired, green eyed jock, a jock that forgot to
look up the definition of conformity in the dictionary. Oh joy. I feel like I'm six all over again, six
and being dragged around the neighbourhood by Sarah, a talkative, hyperactive neighbour of mine.
My mom and hers were the best of friends. So I saw a lot of her, before… before my mother… died.
Off topic, way, way, way off topic here! Anyway, I feel as if I'm six all over again, confused,
overwhelmed and more than a little disconcerted. He is so strange. I simply can't wrap my mind
around the very idea of him, let alone the reality.
He's dragging me around the school, talking a mile a minute as he goes, half the time not even to
me but to the students that surround us. He greets several of them cheerfully, exchanging
conversation with them in between his narrative to me, a narrative explaining the locations of the
various facilities and classrooms that I may be interested in. I take none of it in. I'm too
overwhelmed by his personality, his persistence and the warmth of his hand, still clasping mine.
Come to think of it. Why have I not pulled away?
I halt rather abruptly, aiming to rectify the situation, but as I move to do so, he turns to me, concern
in his eyes. "Are you alright?" He enquires, his voice still able to capture my attention. All coherent
thought abandons me for an instant, my original intent entirely forgotten. It has been a long time
since anyone cared enough to ask me that, to look at me like that, but then again, it has been just as
long since I acknowledged anyone's existence. Beau is ruining my track record. How could he? Just
barging into my life like that? Not even knowing the first thing about me?!
I nod, not wanting him to know the truth, not wanting him to know that it has been a long time since
I was alright. So long in fact, that I no longer remember what being alright is or what it feels like,
but that's not his concern. It's no one's business but my own. What is he doing asking me such a
question anyway? Why does anyone ask that question for that matter? It's not as if he, or anyone
else, can actually do anything to make things better. He frowns at me, looking at me as if he does
not believe me but obviously decides to let it slide because he turns once more and resumes his
rather ad hoc tour of the school.
Before I know it, we're outside, sitting beneath a tree, just the two of us. How did that happen? I
can't remember anything except for the sound of his voice and the heat of his hand. Hey! It doesn't
mean anything. I'm, simply overwhelmed, unaccustomed to having anyone notice me, talk to me
and definitely unaccustomed to having my hand held. Who holds hands anyway? Only sappy
couples on bloody dates! I wince at the thought violently pulling my hand back only to realise that
he has already released it and is holding out a sandwich, waiting for me to accept it.
I blink at him, glancing at the sandwich suspiciously. Why is he offering me food? Why is he eating
with me instead of his friends? I'm sure he has many, if the number of people greeting him in the
hallways is anything to go by. 'Don't you have any friends? A group you hang out with?' I can't help
but sign, unable to accept this rather strange phenomenon at face value. I do not accept anything at
face value. I overanalyse everything. I'm sure you've noticed. He must have some kind of ulterior
motive. Fine, if that's the case, I should find out what it is and quickly, so that I may satisfy his
desire and rid myself of his presence, so that I may, once again, return to the shadows and obscurity.
It doesn't even occur to me that satisfying his desire may irrevocably change my life and me
forever. It doesn't occur to me that he may want me. I mean, why would he?
Beau chuckles lightly, shaking his head. "They won't mind." He reassures me. "They're rather used
to me going off on my own whenever I feel like it. I like to keep my options open. Keeps life
interesting, don't you think?"
I stare at him, uncomprehending. I don't quite understand what he's saying. Yes, that would explain
why he's not eating with his friends but it still doesn't explain why he's eating with me! I blink in
surprise, breaking my staring match with him when he grins and tosses the sandwich into my lap,
obviously intending for me to eat it. Pulling out a second one, he bites into it, his movement slow
and deliberate, watching me as he does so. 'Why me?' I finally sign, dropping my gaze to the food
in my lap, picking at the plastic covering the bread as I await his response.
He remains silent for a long moment, the silence stretching between us, adding to the anxiety
already in my heart. A monumental silence one might say because his response is going to
determine my entire perception of him and is going to influence what happens from here on in.
He reaches over and tugs on my hair, seeking my attention, drawing my gaze up to meet his. His
green eyes search mine, seeming to sense the importance of this moment, taking my question
seriously, more seriously than anyone has ever taken me in my whole life and that, frightens me.
His very demeanour, everything he does is threatening to break down my walls, threatening to truly
see me and that scares me. I don't want him to see me. I don't want anyone to see me and the
darkness that now resides within me, but helpless as a moth to flame, even knowing the harm that
flame may cause, I'm drawn to him.
"Because you're interesting, a puzzle, a mystery I want to solve." His words echo in the silence that
once more envelopes us, pausing thought, life and time. That is exactly how I see him!

Expect the unexpected

The rest of my day was rather uneventful. Beau had to return to his classes and I, to mine, none of
which, much to my relief, we shared, thus allowing me to spend the rest of my day in oblivious
bliss. Okay, so that's not entirely true. It seems that Beau's interest in me has far reaching
repercussions, impacting my life even when he's not there. Consequently the rest of my day was not
as uneventful as I would've liked. Students kept staring at me, whispering about me, on more than
one occasion linking me with Beau. What? I'm mute, not deaf! At least they left me alone. I should
be grateful for that. I don't think I would have been able to handle it if any more of them decided to
start interfering with my life. One interfering, persistent, stubborn, hard-headed person is already
one too many, thanks.
I'm finally free of any further influence he may have upon my life. School has let out and I'm now
on my way home. Perhaps that's not the best word to use in this case. Let me rephrase, it's definitely
not the best word to use. In actual fact, it's the worst. Temporary place of residence is far more
accurate for it will never be home to me. I will never have a home. Home implies far too much
attachment, belonging and peace to ever truly describe any of the places in which I've resided, am
residing or may in future reside. Once, a long time ago, I had a home, until it got tainted that is, by
the nightmares that refuse to give me peace, tainting even me with the secret I must now keep.
So, I'm headed, not home but to my temporary place of residence. No, it's not some run down shack
on the wrong side of town. Don't make assumptions. Assumptions are usually the first step towards
disaster. In actual fact, it's located in a high class area, a neighbourhood where people judge you by
how much money you have, the car you drive and by the brands that you own. Shallow, fickle and
all rather pointless but whom am I to judge? It's the story of my life.
I pause before the gate, taking my residence in for the first time. It's well kept, with rather elaborate
fittings, all of which are in perfect order. It has a large garden, water features scattered about and a
long driveway shaded by age old trees. Some would call it quaint. I call it deceptively peaceful. It's
a mansion. There is no other word to describe it. It's a stark contrast to the small two bedroom home
that I remember from my childhood, the last place to hear my laughter, my voice and the last place
to see my mother. My father says we have done well for ourselves. I don't see it that way. I say we
have sold our souls to the devil for meaningless luxury.
Moving, I finally enter through the gate, reluctant to walk up the driveway. I don't want to be here
but where else can I go? I don't have a job yet. I have not yet stated looking for one seeing as we
just moved in yesterday. Maybe I should go look for one today. Anything will do. I need the money.
I don't want anything bought by my dad, not food, clothes nor gifts. Call it a strange twisted quirk
of mine.
Dropping my school bag in the room that my father calls mine, I turn and head back down a rather
elaborate stairway. I'm halfway down when the doorbell rings, nearly causing me to fall the rest of
the way down. Who on earth could be ringing the doorbell? We just moved in yesterday. Surely it's
not… he could not… it's not possible. That would be a record, even for my dad!
I take a moment to collect myself before calmly walking down the rest of the stairs, dreading seeing
what's on the other side. "Hello. My mother asked me to bring this over to welcome you to the
neighbourhood." A cheerful voice greets me, as I open it. The first thing I see is a rather large
chocolate cake, held out towards me. The second thing… bright green eyes that look as surprised as
I feel.
What's he doing here? Beau is my neighbour! I should've known! He raises his eyebrows when I
stare at him blankly, a barrage of conflicting emotions running through my mind racing. "Can I
come in?" He enquires, lifting the cake pointedly.
I nod, stepping aside to let him in. What else can I do? I can't exactly leave him outside when he has
gone to all the trouble to bring over a chocolate cake, now can I? Tempted as I may be to do exactly
that, it's simply not done. I turn and guide him to the kitchen, pointing at a table as I do so.
Understanding my meaning he places the cake down, titling his head thoughtfully. "You know…"
He states softly. "I never expected you to be my new neighbour." Suddenly he grins, lights up like a
proverbial Christmas tree I tell you. "It must be fate!" He declares far too cheerfully for my liking.
'Actually,' I sign, pausing a moment before continuing. 'I was on my way out.' I need to leave,
escape this place, this atmosphere of impending doom and him! I can't deal with this. Not right now,
not ever.
He looks surprised, a touch disbelieving but not at all insulted. Darn. I had half been hoping to get
rid of him. "Really? Where are you going?" He leans towards me, waiting for my reaction.
I shift, uncertain for a moment. Should I lie or tell him the truth? Both options are undesirable. I
don't want to tell him where I'm going because that would imply that I'm letting him into my life.
On the other hand, I don't think a lie will satisfy him. He has a way of seeing right through me. Am
I really that easy to read or is it just him? 'I'm looking for a job.' I admit a touch reluctantly. Maybe
now he will leave me alone.
My mistake, he doesn't understand the concept. Once again my hand is clutched in his as he drags
me out the front door, barely giving me a chance to react let alone protest. "Is that all? I know just
the place. He's been looking for someone new for a while now. I think you're perfect for the job.
Josh will like you so it shouldn't be a problem."
Half an hour later, I have a job at a music shop. I didn't even have to go though the interview
process. Believe it or not, interviews can get very complicated when one doesn't speak. Beau simply
walked right in and offered my services, without so much as a by your leave, I might add. Minutes
later I'm signing papers. Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful. I really need the money but do I really
have to work in the same place as Beau?
"Great!" Beau turns to me with far too much enthusiasm. "Now that everything is settled, we're off.
You start tomorrow. See you Josh!" And I'm once again being dragged off, his hand warm in mine,
warming even me. Josh, the owner of the store winks at me as Beau drags me out of his store, a
knowing smile upon his lips.
Beau takes me to a coffee shop. He's watching me again, casually leaning on his right hand as he
stirs his coffee with his left. I was right. He is left handed. I drop my gaze to the tea before me, tea
that he ordered for me without even asking, telling me that I seemed more like a tea drinker than a
coffee drinker to him. He's right, damn it. I can't stand coffee but he has no business being right! He
could have asked! What right does he have to be so perceptive? "What's your family like?" He
enquires, pulling me out of my thoughts, drawing my attention to him once more.
I nip at my lip, alternating between biting and licking it as I try to think of a way to avoid this
question. Abandoning that option, I then try to find an honest answer that won't raise any suspicions
in his mind yet at the same time satisfy him. A lost cause I suspect. Eventually I settle on shrugging,
a rather neutral response, an escape route if you will. 'It's just me and my father.' I sign, leaving it at
that. Short and simple. A lengthy response will only invite trouble. The best way to keep something
from being said is not to say anything at all and if you must, to keep it simple, abrupt and to the
point.
"You don't say much do you?" He states in response to my over simplified answer.
Congratulations! Give the guy a medal, a Nobel Prize, something, anything for stating the obvious.
'You think?' I sign, unable to help myself. There is a lot I can't help doing around Beau and that's not
good.
He laughs and I scowl, hating how much I seem to like that warm rumble that escapes him every
time he does so. 'I never realised that I'm so amusing.' Wait. Did I just sign that? I keep forgetting
that he actually understands me. I've spent so many years, able to sign as much as I please without
fear of accidentally giving my secret away. After all… no one could understand me, right? That's
not going to work anymore. I have got to start remembering that or I may get myself into deep
trouble. Perhaps… I already have

Much ado about nothing

I've finally managed to rid myself of Beau's presence and surprisingly I didn't have to work all that
hard in order to achieve this great feat. I mean, I arrived at school early as usual. What? Being at
school means I'm not at home and I take school over that place any day. Anyway, I arrived early as
usual and spotted him in the distance, talking to some girl. That, of course, was followed by me
slipping into the nearest bathroom. Only problem is… it's the girl's bathroom. This realisation is
followed by shock and a little creative shuffling and I soon find myself hidden in a cubicle,
desperately hoping for a miracle. You do not want to know what they do in there. Believe me.
I obviously need to wait for the bathroom to empty before I can try to slip out. As I've said, I don't
like drawing attention to myself and this situation? It just screams attention. So I decide to wait it
out. The bell is bound to ring and when it does the bathroom should empty, right? I mean, all those
girls need to go to class, right?
Wrong! I sit down on the toilet seat, shifting a little here and there in anxiety as I count the seconds,
wondering how many of those need to pass before the bell finally decides to ring and release me
from my accidental, self imposed prison. Nine hundred and twenty six seconds, over fifteen minutes
before the bell rings, a loud invasive sound echoing through the acoustics of the bathroom followed
by the shuffling of feet which is finally followed by relative silence. I say relative because for some
reason, unbeknownst to man, I miss the soft rustling of cloth. I really should pay more attention to
my surroundings. It just might spare me the attention I so desperately try to avoid.
I step out of the cubicle intending to rush to class when I see her. Her as in the girl Beau was talking
to fifteen long, painful and tense minutes ago. Now that's innocent enough. But she's sitting on the
counter, also innocent enough, shirt unbuttoned, not innocent enough, with another girl's tongue in
her mouth, which is not innocent at all! She withdraws from the girl she's kissing and smirks at me.
Smirks, mind you and then, oh so casually speaks, or should I say purrs? "I was wondering when
you were going to come out. Can't have been all that comfortable in there, or do you get your kicks
out of spying on girls?"
I gape at her, utterly shocked by what I'm seeing and by what she's saying. Who would not be in
these circumstances? She on the other hand does not appear to be all that bothered, not by my
presence, not by my silence and certainly not by her own state of undress and what she has just been
caught doing because she weaves her arms around the other girl's neck and pulls her head down
once again. Have they no shame? Neither of them? Because the other girl has not even bothered to
look at me!
I turn, about to flee when her voice stops me once more, slightly husky, slightly breathless, a clear
indication, had I not eyes which had already seen, of what she's up to. "Leaving already?" A hiss
escapes her lips, bringing with it a clear picture into my mind. Several in fact, as my imagination
kicks into overdrive, trying to figure out what could've caused her to hiss in such a manner. Okay,
now those are pictures I definitely do not want in my mind!
"That's not very nice of you." I can hear the pout in her voice. Yes, you aren't mistaken, hear! It is
possible to hear a pout. A slight lowering of the voice tinged with sadness, laced with cheeky
disregard, definitely a pout. "After all the effort we're going to in order to put on a good show. Just
for you. If I didn't know better I would think you didn't love me anymore."
That was it: the last straw. I can't remain here any longer. I'm surprised I managed to remain here,
tolerating this humiliation for as long as I already have. Spurred into motion by her taunting words I
all but run for the door, ignoring the deep throaty chuckle that follows my rather hasty departure.
Psychos; this school is full of them, I swear. Remember when I said that all schools are the same?
Filled with idiots? Well I was wrong. This one is different. Instead of idiots it's filled with psychos!
They're clinically insane! The whole lot of them! Beau included!
I barely manage to settle into my seat when she walks in. Yes, you guessed it! Miss Talking-to-
Beau-slash-followed-by-lesbian-sex-in-the-bathroom. In front of me, no less! I shudder in
remembrance. She has scared me for life and had better be willing to pay for all the therapy I'm
going to need to forget that scene. Then again, maybe not.
I had arrived late to class, obviously, and since my teacher was in such a giving mood she kindly
gave me detention… for a week! Very kind, I must say. Good thing Josh gave me the late afternoon
shift otherwise I would be losing my job before even starting it and that would be a record, even for
me! "Nice of you to join us, Laura." My teacher greets Miss Talking-to-Beau-slash-followed-by-
lesbian-sex-in-the-bathroom.
Laura, seeing as that's her name and I guess I can't continue to refer to her as Miss Talking-to-Beau-
slash-followed-by-lesbian-sex-in-the-bathroom, looks rather sheepish, very humble and apologetic.
That look must have taken hours of sitting in front of the mirror. As they say, practice makes perfect
and Laura's look? Is perfect, practically an art! Anyway, she looks extremely apologetic as she
apologises to Miss Kriel, our English teacher. Isn't it fascinating that English teachers rarely have
English surnames? Okay, okay, back to the issue at hand. Laura apologises to our English teacher
and manages to get off without detention. Looks like Miss Kriel doesn't feel so giving anymore but
I suspect her earlier giving mood had more to do with my charming personality than anything else.
You see, I didn't apologise when I walked in late. Having a policy against speaking kind of hinders
such meaningless efforts.
Laura, who managed to get away without detention, yes, that warrants repetition, saunters over
towards me, smirking as she does so. Please note: towards me! What is it with the people in this
school? I don't want to know them. Is that really such a difficult concept to grasp? Apparently it is,
because the next thing I know, she is seating herself beside me. That's obviously not her usual seat
because a girl near the front hissed at her as she walked past, asking her where she's going. There's
an empty seat beside the girl that hissed at Laura.
Laura ignores her completely and seats herself beside me instead, hitching her skirt up, licking her
lips and winking at me as she does so. I am positively horrified. Why is this happening? Is one
person disrupting my life not enough for Murphy? Apparently not. It's some time before she speaks;
obviously waiting till the class's attention is no longer on us. "So…" She purrs; her voice barely
above a whisper, meant for my ears only. "Did you enjoy the show?"
I flush. I can't help it. You would too, if you had just witnessed what I had witnessed and then had
one of the participants casually sit down beside you in class. "It's sexy, making out in front of
someone else. Do you think it's sexy too?" She continues, in the same whisper, obviously trying to
be seductive but coming over as aggravating instead.
I shrink into my seat, wishing it would swallow me. Right here and now might be good. I really
don't want to be dealing with this. Sadly, the world is not at all forgiving. Murphy never listens to
anyone's desire and I'm still here, in class, sitting beside Laura who is now looking rather smug.
Like a cat that got her cream. I have really disturbing images in my head again and I think I'm going
to be sick.
Scratch that. I am going to be sick. Grabbing my bag I run out, not even bothering to excuse myself.
I hear Miss Kriel calling after me, something along the lines of my single week of detention being
extended to three. Not too sure though because I'm not really paying attention. Big surprise. Yes,
that is sarcasm. Considering the circumstances of my second rather hasty departure for today it's not
surprising. Better yet, it's now two such departures in the span of minutes. A record breaker. Oh joy.
I run to the nearest boy's bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I throw up. Yes, I know,
not a pretty picture but such is the reality. To make things worse, the door to the bathroom creaks
open. Someone else is coming in and I had not even bothered to close the cubicle door! This day
just keeps getting better! He's beside me, placing a hand upon my shoulder, voice filled with
concern as he speaks. "Are you alright?" Beau has a flare for the obvious. Somehow he always
manages to ignore it.
I push him away, violently signing as I do. 'Don't touch me.' I don't want him touching me. Not right
now. His touch breaks down my defences. I cannot handle that, especially not when I'm feeling this
ill. I'm truly pathetic when I feel ill. Pushing people away, denying the secrets that threaten to drive
me mad, remaining cold, hard, aloof, all of it becomes so much harder to do. But of course, he
chooses now to pretend to not understand me, reaching out again when I once more lean over the
toilet, resuming my efforts to resurrect everything I may have eaten in the past week. I do very well,
I might add.
My head is spinning, along with everything else around me. My skin is cold and I feel light headed.
Getting sick can be such a rush, similar to that provided by drugs. No, I don't do them. Considered
them, tried them for a while but when I lost control, when they brought my nightmares to the fore
instead of wiping them away, I stopped. It was not an easy thing to do but having to relive my
nightmares in Technicolor provided ample motivation.
I'm floating, which is rather strange. Being sick is not Red Bull! Contrary to popular belief, it does
not give you wings. At least not in my experience, so why am I floating? I open my eyes, only just
realising that I had closed them. Beau! He's carrying me! No! Please! Not now.
It's only when he speaks to reprimand me that I realise I'm now struggling in his arms. "Would you
stop that? I don't want to drop you." Tempted as I'm to continue my struggles, I still. Being dropped
isn't a pleasant experience. No, I will not be revealing how I know that. Some things are better left
unknown and that is definitely one of them!
I relax into Beau's arms, his warmth sinking into my skin, warming even the chill within me. This is
definitely not good. I'm sleepy. I'm always sleepy when sick. To complicate things even further I did
not even get any sleep last night and the warm comfort of Beau's arms is not helping me in my bid
to stay awake. It's not long I guess, before my eyes drift closed once again and I fall asleep.

Assumptions and accusations

What did I tell you about assumptions? They're usually the first step towards disaster, as the
continuation of my morning so kindly demonstrates. I do not wake in the nurse's office as I had
assumed I would. See, I made an assumption. I really should know better. Instead I wake with my
head in Beau's lap! Upon realising this I leap into motion, nearly hitting my head on the tree
beneath which Beau and I are situated. Why on earth are we outside? What normal human being
takes someone that has just been sick outside? Oh I forget; no one here is normal! That would
explain it.
So instead of the nurse's office, Beau has taken me outside where I've just woken to find myself
lying in his lap. Oh joy, yet another event to make my day, oh so much, better. I shift away from
him, creating space between us and peer at his face from beneath the strands of hair that I like to
keep in my face for just such an occasion. Some paranoid part of me keeps insisting that if I meet
others gaze, they will be able to see the secrets I try so desperately to hide. Beau, annoyingly calm
and collected as ever, simply raises an eyebrow at me in question, clearly waiting for me to react.
'What are we doing here?' I sign, unable to control the part of me that wants to know what he's
thinking.
Beau shrugs. "It's nice and warm outside." His response is simple, factual and definitely not what I
wanted to know. Go figure. Avoidance, the best defence mechanism known to man, only I'm not
about to accept it.
'That's not what I meant. Why not the nurse's office?' Beau is starting to look uncomfortable. I
cannot believe that he, with his stubborn persistence, is actually starting to look uncomfortable! No
good.
"Because I didn't think you would want to go to the nurse's office." Beau speaks softly,
consternation upon his features. Why would he think that I would have a problem with the nurse's
office? True, it's usually a place filled with sick people but I was sick, so why would it be a
problem? It has a bed and a blanket, none of which have been bought by my father.
'Why?' I sign, wanting to know. I watch as he drops his gaze, no longer looking at me. This can't be
good. He's now avoiding my gaze, shifting awkwardly as he does so. Panic courses through me,
threatening to make me hyperventilate, threatening to make me sick all over again. What is he
hiding? What is he thinking? Why is he doing this?
"I thought…" He pauses, uncomfortable with what he's going to say. "I thought you maybe have
something you want to hide." He finishes in a rush peering up at me again, obviously trying to
either confirm or deny his suspicions.
This can't be happening. Not to me, not right now. Now, I really am hyperventilating, my breath
constricting in my throat, the blood pounding in my head and my vision blurring. He knows! How
could he know? When did I let my secret slip? It was a mistake. I should've known better. I
should've done something! Pain courses through my chest. It's like a knife twisting in my flesh,
sharp and intense. I can't breathe, I can't think and I definitely cannot deal with this. An onrush of
darkness overwhelms me, obscuring my vision and threatening to take possession of me once again.
Promising the oblivion I so desire.
That is when I hear it, a voice, echoing through my mind, muffled by the pounding of the blood in
my head, almost completely obscured by the rush I can feel and hear within me. It's soft, coming
from a great distance but even so I can hear the panic and desperation in it, as it tries to pull me
back. I'm really beginning to hate that voice. It's denying me the oblivion I so desperately want.
"Dimitri! Breathe! Dimitri! It's okay! I won't tell anyone. Dimitri! Please breathe!!!" A rush of air
enters my lungs, the sudden intake of oxygen making me light headed. Oxygen too can be a drug, as
addictive and euphoric as any other, as dangerous as any other when taken in the right quantities
and at the right pressure. Bet you didn't know that. Oxygen can kill you too.
The sudden rush of oxygen into my recently oxygen deprived body gives me a momentary high as
my body, blood and mind adjusts, each slowly resuming its normal function. Vision, shape and form
return and I see Beau, desperately clutching at my shoulders, concern and panic etched upon his
features. "I'm sorry." He whispers, the words escaping him upon the sigh of relief that he expels.
"I'm really sorry. I won't tell anyone, but please tell me you'll stop. Please Dimitri."
Stop? Dimitri? What is he talking about? Why does he know my name? Oh yeah, I vaguely
remember some of my teachers, Miss Davenport included, introducing me to the class yesterday,
drawing attention I could not avoid to me. That explains why he knows my name but what is he
talking about? 'What must I stop?' I can't help but sign in confusion.
Beau frowns, and I can see concern laced with pity on his face. I hate pity. It's such a demeaning
emotion. It makes me feel small and worthless and makes me want to rage against the injustice of it
all. Before I'm able to react against the insult I'm receiving from his eyes alone, he speaks. "Please
stop hurting yourself."
Pure unadulterated shock and disbelief course through my veins. Hurting myself? Two simple
words, yet an impact like no other. Am I? Am I really hurting myself by denying the existence of
others? By denying my voice? Isn't it already too late? Do I have anything left to hurt? Is there any
part of me that the secret I keep has not already killed? 'I am not hurting myself.' I protest, fighting
to deny it with every part of my being but something deep within me knows that it's a lie.
"Dimitri." Beau sighs, releasing my shoulders and running his hands over his face. His hands are
trembling, the deep emotions stirred up by our confrontation affecting even him. He looks haggard,
torn and more than a little defeated. "Please, don't cut yourself anymore."
What? Did I just hear that correctly? Is that what this is all about? He thinks I'm cutting myself?
When? How? Why? What could I've possibly done to give him that impression? 'I don't cut myself!'
I sign, my hands flying through the air in agitation and disbelief. Yes, it's possible to yell when
using sign language, it's all in how violently you sign. Anger mixes with shame in my blood.
Assumptions… disaster… And now it's Beau and not me that's making them. How could he accuse
me of such a thing? I pull the sleeves of my dark hoodie away from my wrists, all the way to my
elbows, revealing the pale skin there, pale skin that is unmarred. I've never cut myself in my life.
Beau stares at my wrists, pondering the lack of scars before looking up to meet my eyes, shifting
awkwardly. He swallows, his Adams apple moving with the movement, obviously gathering his
thoughts. "What about elsewhere?" He asks, softly, wincing as he does so.
That does it, douses the heat of my rage in an instant. Yes, it's strange. Here he is still accusing me
of cutting myself and my just anger dies, snuffed out in an instant. I can't explain it but it does. Why
you may ask? Because, he's clearly uncomfortable with my anger yet asks that question anyway and
that, though I hate to admit it, takes courage. I may not be vocal but my anger is still a sight to
behold. You don't need a voice to show aggression and you don't need to be yelled at in order to feel
overpowered by the aggression directed at you. There are different kinds of aggression, some silent
in nature.
So here I am, my anger drained from me, confronted by Beau's rather pointed accusation, an
accusation that couldn't be further from the truth. I sigh, a whisper of breath escaping my lips and
pull down the sleeves of my dark hoodie once more, allowing the accusation to hang in the air for a
moment longer. I don't want to face it. It hurts. It hurts like crazy and I can't understand why this
would be so. Why do I care if Beau thinks I cut myself?
'No.' I sign, calmly meeting his gaze. Yes, I'm looking at him, looking into those dark green eyes
tinted a slight shade of aquamarine by the concern he feels for me, concern that makes no sense to
me. I am lost. There's nothing I can do about it. It's already too late. Beau already exists as more
than a shadow and I am lost for it. 'I don't cut myself. Not my wrists. Not anywhere else.'
I pause, wanting my words, assuming they can be called such seeing as they come from my hands
and not my lips, to sink in. I want Beau to really think about what I'm telling him. Seeing the colour
in his eyes deepen I continue. 'I never have. Why would you think I do?'
Beau searches my face, seeming to seek the truth. "You're hiding something. You're running." His
words are barely audible above the rustling of the leaves that I only now notice. "You're hurting and
hiding something."
I swallow; my throat thick with dread, fear and a deep sense of foreboding. 'Why do you say that?' I
sign, trying to keep my hands from trembling and giving me away. What is it about Beau? What is it
about his gaze, his voice and his perception that can so easily slip through defences it has taken me
years to build?
"The way you move. You avoid everyone and run when someone gets too close." Beau states softly,
his voice filled with dead certainty, not even a shadow of a doubt within it.
'I'm antisocial.' I sign in response, using an age old excuse that has saved me from many
confrontations. It's amazing how people tend to grab onto the easiest solution to a problem, willing
to believe the most ridiculous things if only to explain away a problem they do not wish to face. It's
often easier to ignore a problem than it is to face it especially if the problem isn't your own but
belongs to another. I've used this fact to my advantage on more than one occasion and so I try to use
it again. It works on most people, why shouldn't it work on Beau? I forget that Beau isn't most
people.
"No one is that antisocial." Beau whispers leaning towards me, leaning in so close that I can feel the
heat of his breath upon my ear. "The thing about people is…" He continues, his breath now in my
ear, invading my space and causing my muscles to tense as I resist the urge to flinch away from
him, "they need each other. They need touch and affection. No one can survive without it and one
needs to have a bloody good reason to avoid it with the zeal you put into it." That said, he stands
and leaves, leaving me alone with the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves his words echoing
within my mind

I'll die if you ruin my precious hair

Beau didn't bother me for the rest of the day, but instead of making me happy, it made me
miserable. For the life of me I couldn't shake his parting words from my mind, words that were
spoken in but a whisper but which had more impact on me than a raging tornado. Do I really need
it? Affection? Is that why I hurt so much? Why I feel so empty? Why am I drawn to Beau so
strongly? I don't understand Beau, don't understand my reactions to him and definitely don't
understand his persistence. Avoidance has always worked for me before, always been my escape
mechanism. I've never questioned my life before, never doubted that what I did was right, was what
I deserved. Why am I doing so now? Why are a few words, whispered into my ear on a touch of
warm breath disrupting my life so much?
Detention was surprisingly rather pleasant. Don't look at me like that. It was quiet with relatively
few students around, meaning few stares. True, the students that were sitting in detention were a
rough looking lot but I don't care. As long as they leave me in peace they can do whatever they
please. For the first time in a long while, I actually got some homework done. Maybe it's because it
was somewhat peaceful away from my current place of residence, my dad and the nightmares that
accompany such. I should get detention more often.
I walk into the music shop. It was easy to find. Luckily it's not all that far from school because if it
had been, detention would have made me late for work. I don't want to lose this job. Josh's face
lights up upon seeing me, pale blue eyes sparkling in some kind of hidden mirth, hidden mirth that I
am instantly wary of. I don't like the knowing look upon his face and the inevitable teasing I just
know I'm going to receive from him. Don't ask me how I know. I just do. He seems the type. "Hello
Dimitri." He calls, far too cheerily. What is it with these people and being all cheery around me?
He jumps over the counter, yes as opposed to walking around it, and heads towards me, grinning as
he does so. "I see you're alone today. Is Beau going to be late?" He asks. I stare at him blankly. I
mean, how should I know? Do I look like Beau's keeper? Josh waits expectantly for a response,
before suddenly looking extremely sheepish. "Oh yeah, you don't speak. Beau told me about that.
Come on then, I'll show you the ropes. I actually need someone to run inventory for me." He pulls a
face as he speaks. "I'm a little scatterbrained when it comes to stock and Beau keeps telling me that
I'm probably being robbed blind and don't even realise it seeing as I've no idea what should actually
be in stock. You can manage stock, right?" He pauses his rambling to look at me, the thought to
question my capability only now occurring to him. I have to agree with Beau, he is scatterbrained if
he only thinks to ask me this after he's given me the job.
I nod. It should be simple enough. I've always been good with organisation. Josh hands me a book,
rambling once again. "Those are the notes I've made on what has been bought and sold. I know
they're messy and Beau keeps telling me that they are completely illegible." He sighs, sounding
depressed for a moment before bouncing right back up again. "He's right, they are and that's why I
hired you!" He winks at me cheekily. What is it with this guy? He goes through emotions like some
go through a packet of candy. First hyper, followed by sheepish, followed by unsure, followed by
hyper, depressed, sheepish, cheeky and hyper again all in a span of minutes. I can barely keep up.
He's now leading me around the shop rambling about everything he has in stock and even going so
far as to give me a detailed breakdown on each instrument, its quality, year, make and compatibility
with playing styles. I never realised that music and instruments could be such a complicated
concept. Then again, I never paid it any mind. CD's are a luxury I cannot afford, not on my own
savings and trying to play an instrument never actually occurred to me. Instruments too are far too
expensive and time consuming. When your life is consumed by nightmare it's a frivolity that lacks
the importance to actually capture attention. It's a frivolity that never caught my attention, before
now, that is, because, now I'm finding myself fascinated by the instruments on display, their shape,
their form and the potential for wordless expression that each holds.
Josh pauses before a violin, tracing out the simple shape. The instrument contains just the bare
minimum, a clear plastic skeleton, finished in black with fine strings stretched across it. Josh is lost
in thought, for once not rambling. Smiling, he turns to me speaking, softly. "This is my favourite
piece. I'm looking for the perfect owner for it so it's the only piece in here that's not for sale at the
moment. Surprisingly I got it for next to nothing at an auction even though it's a high quality
instrument. Some people don't know the true value of what they have, I guess. It's an electric violin,
not as popular as the classic wooden one but I like it. It has a more modern sound to it." I have to
agree, some people don't know the true value of what they have. Even though I know next to
nothing about instruments even I can see that this instrument is something special and a part of me,
a part I just discovered, wants it.
"Okay." Josh changes the subject as easily and quickly as he changes moods. "I've given you the
tour. I think, perhaps, you might want to start with documenting what I have in the shop before
trying to decipher my rather mixed up notes. If you have any questions, let me know." He finishes a
knowing smile once more upon his lips as he heads back to the counter. I have to resist the urge to
scream, not that I'll allow any sound past my lips, it would ruin my mute persona. Josh is just as
aggravating as Beau and for a moment there, fascinated by the instruments he told me about, I'd
almost allowed myself to forget as much. I really wish I could allow myself to be a violent person
because right now I want nothing more than to wipe that knowing smirk off of his face.
I'm just about to storm off. What? I need some way of expressing myself and lacking verbal
expression I need to resort to physical body language instead! Anyway, I'm about to storm deeper
into the store intending to hide from Josh's knowing look when Beau rushes in, dropping his bags
with a thump. His panting breath is loud in the relative peaceful silence of the store. "Sorry I'm
late." He breathes. "Coach extended practice today." He's speaking to Josh. That much is apparent
but his eyes are searching the store, looking for something or someone, looking for me because they
stop searching when they meet my gaze.
Beau grins and waves at me, heading right towards me, not even bothering to finish his
conversation with Josh. Josh is looking at me once again, that knowing smile on his face and that is
disconcerting me. Why is he finding this amusing winking at me?! I have my suspicions but I really
don't want to go there. Facing them would mean escaping the denial I am fighting desperately to
hold onto. Facing them would mean facing Beau's motives and perhaps facing myself. "Hey." Beau
greets me softly, stopping a few paces away from me.
'Hey.' I sign back, knowing the Beau will not accept silence as a response.
"So what do you think?" Beau sweeps his hand across the store, grinning as he does so, a cheeky
smile that looks so much better on him then it does on Josh. Yes, it's just as annoying but for some
reason not as aggravating. Maybe it's because the rest of what he does is far more aggravating.
I shrug. 'It's interesting.' I sign, simply, considering my response for a moment before I continue. I
certainly don't want to admit that I love this place already. I really don't want to encourage further
interference in my life. 'Quiet, unobtrusive and very different to the other places I have worked thus
far.' What's wrong with me? I'm becoming a regular chatter box here. It is true though… this place
has already won me over with its soothing calm atmosphere. Perhaps it will become my place of
escape. Not likely but one can always hope, right?
"Did Josh show you upstairs?" Beau asks, his eyes sparkling in mirth. Why is it that I can see that
mirth in his gaze? "I thought not. He has a one track mind and is completely obsessed with his
passion for these instruments. Makes him a bit narrow minded. He denies the existence of
everything and everyone else. It'll be his ruin I tell you. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps he sleeps
with them! Might be interesting to see how he does it! I can just picture it, a bed filled with
instruments as opposed to a bed filled with teddy bears."
"Hey! I heard that." Josh protests, gracefully leaping over the counter once more and heading
towards us with impossible speed where he grabs Beau into a head lock and begins to ruffle his hair
violently.
It's finally happened. I've finally been transported to the twilight zone. I'm now watching Beau
struggle to get away from Josh but it's not what I see that shocks me, but what I hear! "Not the hair,
not the hair, I'll die if you ruin my precious hair!" Did Beau just say that? And in such a dramatic
girly voice? What on earth is going on here? I never would've pegged him as being obsessed with
his hair. No, not only because he's a jock but because he never seems to wear any gel and never
seems to go to any effort to actually style it. He simply wears it in a semi ragged style, with bits
hanging all over the place.
"Oh off with you now!" Josh growls pushing Beau away. "Get to work. I've had enough of your
teasing for the day." Beau is now laughing, his mirth filling the air, causing him to lose his breath
because soon he begins to gasp, trying to calm himself enough to breath. His laughter dies but the
amused grin remains upon his lips. He's no longer looking at me but is now looking at Josh, sharing
a private joke as far as I can tell. Suddenly Beau leans forward, reaching out towards Josh, mischief
blatantly written all over his features.
"Touch the hair and you're fired." Josh growls, stepping back and away from Beau. That's when I
notice Josh for the first time. I mean really notice. It's easy to look at things without actually seeing
at them. All it takes is a little practice and a willingness not to pay them any actual attention. I have
mastered the art years ago, especially when it comes to people, and rarely take the time to notice
anything about what I see. However, Beau's actions are forcing me to actually take notice and I'm
starting to hate him for that.
Josh has pale blue eyes. I registered as much due to the fact that he keeps giving me knowing looks
and winks. I also noticed his blond hair, but what I had not registered was the obvious care he takes
to style it. All of it is carefully gelled into neat spikes and not a hair is out of place. All of a sudden
Beau's random behaviour makes sense. He was mocking Josh! I can't help but smile at that, drawing
Josh's rather affronted attention to me while at the same time giving Beau the opening he was
looking for. Beau reaches over and ruffles Josh's hair, not a touch of hesitation in his movement
before turning and running towards the stairs behind us, grabbing me by the hand as he runs past.
"You can't fire me!" Beau calls back when Josh growls. "You need me too much! I'm the only one
that knows where everything is!" And that was the end of that.
I stare in disbelief, unable to comprehend what I am seeing. Beau's dragged me to the top floor of
the music store, dropping my hand and stepping aside when we arrive. He's watching me, awaiting
my reaction to that which is before me. When Beau told me this was a music store and led me in for
my interview yesterday I'd assumed Josh dealt solely with instruments. Yes, assumptions again. I
mean, the entire bottom floor is literally covered in them. The top floor however is an entirely
different world, covered in music CD's. I've never seen so many music CD's in a single place in my
entire life. Yes, I have been to CD shops before. Not being able to afford them doesn't mean I can't
browse them, more often than not on days that I spend at the mall randomly walking into shops to
avoid going home.
I take a few steps further in and promptly arrive at a rack of CD's, absently flicking through them.
It's the most interesting collection I've ever seen including many discs in other languages such as
Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, Korean and the list goes on. What's more, we're not only
talking about the traditional music that most music stores like to stock when it comes to stocking
music from other countries. We are talking Rock, POP, Alternative, you name it and I suspect he has
it and if not, can probably get it. It's amazing!
My eyes are wide when I look up realising this place is packed and it's no wonder! I mean, there is
something for everyone here. "I told you he's obsessive." Beau responds to my look of disbelief.
"When he gets an idea into his head he goes all out but instruments are and always will be his first
passion. I work up here, behind the counter. Took me forever to memorise everything he has and
where it is."
I gape at him. He knows where everything is? He must have a photographic memory! There's no
way I'd be able to memorise everything here. It's too scattered and lacks order. I can see as much
from the single rack I've browsed through. I really have my work cut out for me. 'How on earth do
you find anything here?' I sign in blatant disbelief pointing to the rack I have just browsed through
and to the strangest mixtures of CD's ever to be placed together.
"It's not that hard. I think he organised them by colour. So I just have to know the colour of the
cover." My word, he really must have a photographic memory. "I tried organising it but…" Beau
pulls a face. "I gave up because every time I try, he gets new stock in and ruins all my efforts. I take
it you're in charge of stock now?" His voice is hopeful and his features tense in anticipation. The
tension fades at my nod. "Good, though you really will have your work cut out for you." He
declares, echoing my earlier sentiment. "I suggest you start with the instruments though. It'll be
easier. They at least have records, chaotic though they may be." He points at the notebook I'm
clutching. "This floor however, may as well not exist if the record books are to be believed. Gives
the taxman quite the headache when he comes over to do an audit. Come to think of it. I'll miss the
pained expression on his face." Beau muses, suddenly lost in thought.
I glance down at the book in my hands, opening it in curiosity, briefly skimming over the contents.
Beau and Josh were right. They are chaotic and I really do have my work cut out for me. Oh well. It
will keep me busy and perhaps allow me a few moments of reprieve from the memories in my
mind. 'Guess I'll get started.' I sign, turning to head down the stairs once more.
"Hey, Dimitri!" I turn back to face Beau when he calls out to me, question in my gaze. "You can sit
with me as you work." He offers giving me a hopeful look.
I shake my head. 'Too loud. Too crowded.' I hastily sign and slip down the stairs, pretending not to
see the look of disappointment that crosses Beau's face. For some reason, though, I can't seem to
wipe from my mind. It stirs emotions of regret within me.
Instrumentality
I arrived at school this morning and signed up for music class. What was thinking? Do I not have
enough insanity in my life? How could I even consider this let alone actually sign up for it? But
what's done is done. I know that I can go back and ask the office to change my schedule back but
after all the trouble I made them go through in order to get it changed I somehow doubt they will be
too pleased about that, so I guess I should live with the consequences of my rather rash actions and
actually give it a try. I'm currently looking for the head of the music department in order to get me
placed. Only thing is, I have no idea where to go.
I pause in the middle of the hallway and look around, hoping that something will give me a clue. No
such luck. Maybe I should've actually paid attention to Beau's tour of the school? I guess it is too
late to regret that. Resigning myself to being completely and utterly lost I hitch my bag up, drop my
gaze and take a few steps forward. Big mistake. Yes, you guessed it. I find myself once again upon
the floor, only this time I look up, fearing that somehow, in that strange way of his, Beau is once
again involved in my life. Imagine my surprise when I find that he's nowhere to be seen. I don't
know why I should be surprised, because this is a big school, class is in session and Beau is only
one person in it, but I am. Murphy has not been all that nice to me of late, if you recall, and having
Beau around to once again see my humiliation or dare I say it rescuing me would be the norm.
No, instead of Beau I see another boy. This boy looks a touch more normal than Beau. Then again
everyone is a touch more normal than Beau. It's not such a difficult feat to achieve. The boy glances
at me, cradling a case to his chest, instinctively shielding it. It seems, surprisingly enough, that it is
he that crashed into me and not the other way around. He'd been running from what I can tell and
somehow managed to run into me. Go figure… A whole empty hallway and he chooses to run into
the small area which I happened to have been occupying. "I'm sorry." He hastily apologises
dropping his gaze. Hey! That is supposed to be my job! I'm the one that doesn't look at other
people!
Obviously unaware of my inner tirade, he stands up, gives me a quick bow and apologises again
before turning and running further into the corridor, not even giving me a chance to react, let alone
respond. I leap up and follow after him, my bag pounding against my back as I do so. That has to be
a violin case he's holding! I hope that he's heading for music class. I'm already late as it is due to my
stint in the office and efforts to get my schedule changed and I don't want to be any later. I don't
think that will make a good impression on my teacher to be. Not that I care about making a good
impression but considering my complete lack of musical knowledge I figure I will need to create
one because my teacher is going to have to be a saint to put up with the havoc I'm sure to wreak in
my attempts to learn the art of music. Assuming he or she is not already deaf from teaching all the
previous want to be students like me, of course. Why am I doing this again?
I've lost the student with the violin. Damn him for not waiting for me. Could've gotten me out of the
current dilemma I find myself in. But such is not to be, Murphy is obviously not done with me yet. I
halt in the middle of the hallway once more, suddenly feeling completely dejected. Why can I not
get a break? Not even once since I started here? Always something disrupting my life and it's not
over yet it seems because all too soon I hear an all too familiar voice. "You're the new student?"
I turn, meeting Beau's green gaze, humour sparkling in it as he speaks to me. 'I thought that was
already established.' I sign, giving him a look. What did he think he was playing at? He already
knows I'm new here. I mean, he gave me the tour of the place.
He shakes his head. "I meant new music student." He clarifies. "Someone from the office came to
Mr Reid to tell him there's a new music student coming to see him. Since you're taking so long to
get there he sent me to look for you. I'm assuming it's you, right? You're in the music hall after all."
Oh joy. See, it keeps getting worse. I get lost looking for the head of the department and they
conveniently send Beau to look for me. Don't you just love Murphy and his rather twisted sense of
humour? I've been trying to avoid Beau since yesterday, the look on his face as I left him still in my
mind. I managed rather well thus far too. Yesterday, I got off work before him and ran home. Seeing
as I loathe my home so much, the speed with which I got there was quite remarkable. My
reasoning? At least if I'm there it's unlikely that I'll accidentally bump into Beau. Then this morning
I headed straight to the office and have been there since, trying to sort out my new schedule. Now
class is in session and I thought I was safe… Go figure, Murphy just had to shatter that illusion,
didn't he? I raise my eyebrows at Beau, not really in the mood to respond to his query. Perhaps non-
admission would allow me a moment of denial?
Beau shakes his head and reaches out towards me, once again grabbing hold of my hand. What is it
with him and always grabbing my hand, dragging me off without so much as asking for my
consent? I guess I shouldn't be complaining because now he's taking me to where I actually want to
go and if not for him I'd still be standing in the hallway, clueless and lost. He drags me into a small
classroom halting before a warm looking gentleman. I say warm because he's on the tubby side, has
a touch of silver in his dark hair and smile lines around his eyes. Looks like he spent his life smiling
which is rare in this day and age.
"Hello." His voice is as warm as his appearance is soft. I'm inclined to call it fatherly but I'm not too
sure because I don't quite understand the concept. The only example I have is my father and he's far
from fatherly though I must admit he does try. I'm just not very receptive to all his efforts. Knowing
what I know about him kind of does that to me. "I hear you want to try music. I'm Mr Reid, but you
can call me Dave. Most of my students do, except for those that insist on making me feel old." He
glances at Beau with those words, his eyes sparkling.
I do not reach out towards him. I don't want to touch him. I really don't want to acknowledge any
more people than I already have but something tells me that it is not going to be easy. I'm unlikely
to succeed but one can try, right? Never admit defeat? Even in the face of overwhelming odds. He
drops his hand, not too phased by my lack of a response. "So what's your name and what instrument
would you like to play?"
What instrument do I want to play? Well, I had not thought that far. I've no idea what's gotten into
me. Why am I this impulsive? I was never this impulsive before. I always think things through
before even considering them, never mind doing them yet here I am, signed up for music class
without the faintest consideration as to what instrument I want to learn. That is when I remember
the clear plastic violin in Josh's store. Glancing up I search the classroom. The walls are crowded
with pictures of various instruments, music notes and certificates of achievement. I finally find what
I am looking for and point at it, a picture of an old violin.
He blinks in surprise before glancing at Beau and then glancing back at me. "Are you sure?" He
questions softly. "I hear you've no music background. You're a beginner, right?"
'I'm sure.' I sign obviously surprising him, because his eyes go wide and he turn to Beau seeking a
translation.
"He says he's sure." Beau states softly.
"He's deaf? He can't play an instrument if he's deaf you know." Mr Reid suddenly looks
uncomfortable, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
"He's not deaf, sir. He doesn't seem to have a problem hearing anything. He simply doesn't speak."
Beau explains on my behalf. Mr Reid really put his foot in it, making assumptions about me like
that. Does he really think I'd be so stupid as to try and play an instrument if I couldn't hear? That
would be positively insane!
Here it comes, assumption number two. "He's mute?" Bingo! I saw that one coming, from a mile
away, what I did not see coming however was Beau's reaction to Mr Reid's second assumption. He
shrugs. Shrugs I tell you, as if he's uncertain about that. Beau, who for some strange unknown
reason assumes I cut myself, is not assuming I'm mute?! Oh joy. No good will come of this.
"Alright." Mr Reid turns back to me looking a touch guilty. "I'm sorry…" He flounders a bit,
obviously looking for my name. 'Dimitri.' I sign, even though I know he doesn't understand me. His
floundering is starting to embarrass even me. Spotting me sign, Beau relays my name to Mr Reid
and the embarrassment is over. "Miss Shale will be your teacher and you can pair up with Alex. He
should be able to get you started. Come with me." Simple as that, he stands and heads for the door.
Beau moves to follow but halts when Mr Reid turns to him and giving him a pointed look and
orders. "Get started on your practice Mr Ahern. You have dilly dallied enough already." Did I hear
correctly? Did he just use a word like dilly dally? What century does he think he's in? Beau obeys
him though and remains behind while Mr Reid takes me to go meet the mysterious Miss Shale and
Alex. I absently wonder what instrument Beau plays?

Killing cats
This is a big mistake, one of the biggest I have ever made. Yet again I ask. What on earth was I
thinking when I decided to take up music? Let me take a few steps back here so I can explain. Mr
Reid guided me to what is now my music teacher's class. Miss Shale was busy with another student
when we walked in. Mr Reid introduced the student as Alex and yes, you guessed it, Alex is the boy
I bumped into in the hallway, the one that was carrying the violin case. Alex doesn't really stand out
much, doesn't seem to draw attention to himself at all. I think it has something to do with the way
he stands and the way he moves. I would do well to learn from him as it seems my tried and tested
method of ridding myself of unwanted attention has failed me.
He has deep chocolate brown hair, a shade lighter than Beau's. I'm an artist. I notice these things!
And his eyes are chocolate brown. I registered as much when I bumped into him in the hallway,
because at the time I was expecting them to be green. Damn it. What is it with Beau and taking over
my life? Okay, off topic, I know. Anyway, Alex almost seems to blend in with his surroundings,
which is a trait I really envy right about now. No, it's not strange that I've noticed him. That I blame
entirely on the incident in the hallway and Beau.
Now the strange thing is, even though Alex seems rather unremarkable at first glance, he is fantastic
with that violin in his hands. That single instrument transforms him from someone that would
probably never receive a second glance in a crowd to someone you can't take your eyes off of. I
never thought such a thing was possible. The grace with which he handles the bow is amazing and
the music… awe inspiring. He handles the instrument with professional grace and plays complex
melodies I never imagined a violin would be able to handle with ease. It makes me wish that I could
play like that.
However, it seems that Murphy is not yet done with me and such is not to be. I'm awful! Absolutely,
completely and utterly awful. Think of the screech of chalk on a board, or perhaps a steel blade on
glass, or even cats yowling in pain. Can you hear it? Yes. That is the sound a violin makes in my
hands. It looks like I have given Miss Shale a headache during the hour which I spent trying to play
in that room and Alex, well, he looks more than a touch frazzled. I swear the both of them actually,
physically winced every time I placed the bow of the instrument I held to the strings upon it.
I tense when I feel a soft touch upon my arm. Alex is touching me! When did my defences go down
so much that people actually willingly reach out towards me? Before coming to this school and
meeting the pink and purple haired, persistent person, all I needed to do was glare in someone's
direction in order to let them know that I did not want to be touched, and here, in a matter of days
I've someone continually chattering to me, someone winking knowingly at me, someone making out
in front of me and someone willingly reaching out to touch me! I thought Beau was the only one
insane enough to do that because, no offence, I doubt he has any sense of self preservation at all!
"It's okay." Alex drops his gaze shyly; a touch of pink upon his cheeks. "The violin is a difficult
instrument to learn. Give it some time." He pauses, seeming to gather some courage before looking
up to meet my gaze. Damn it! What is it with me and meeting people's gazes here? This is going to
be the death of me but it's too late to back out and forget. It's too late to escape what Beau started
and Beau's too persistent to let me. It's too late to save myself from the pain I know is coming. "If
you like I can give you extra lessons, after school." His voice shakes as he speaks, filled with
uncertainty.
I gape. Honestly. What else do you expect me to do? I mean, someone, other than Beau and we have
already established that he's insane, is willing to spend time with me! I'm tempted to throw his offer
back but I can't. He's looking at me, acknowledging me and his gaze is begging me to acknowledge
him in return. I don't want to because this is going to complicate my life even further but I can't help
it. Something within me is breaking and even though I struggle to hold on it, it slips through my
fingers, shattered glass with the consistency of fine sand. It's there. I can touch it but for some
reason I can no longer hold it in place. I can no longer bear the pain of it. It's becoming an
intangible flow over which I have no control.
Defeated, I nod, watching the relief upon his features. This relief is followed by a small smile that
hints at the person hiding beneath his rather unremarkable exterior, giving a glimpse into the awe
inspiring person he becomes when he plays the wooden instrument he obviously holds dear.
#
I meet Alex after school. It seems that my detention has been rescinded. Apparently Mr Reid told
the staff I'm mute. My English teacher is still not impressed with me, I mean, I did run out of her
class after all, but she seems to have decided to give me the 'benefit of a doubt' as she says it. I
really wish she wouldn't. I liked detention. It gave me an excuse not to go home.
So instead of going to detention, I meet Alex to torture the cats some more, or at least that's what it
sounds like. I'm rather conflicted about this arrangement, mind you. On the one hand I have an
excuse not to go home, on the other I'm required to interact with yet another person in this crazy
school and that idea doesn't sit well with me. Yes, I know it's already too late but why get anymore
entangled in this web I'm caught in than I already am? It almost makes me feel like a fly, knowing
death is what awaits me, but struggling against it anyway. It's a foolish endeavour but one I seem to
be inevitably drawn into despite myself.
Let me tell you something. Alex has the patience of a saint. I've been torturing his ear drums, and
mine, for an hour now and he has yet to say anything discouraging to me. I mean, here I am,
although mute by choice, not deaf but it would appear that I am trying my hardest to rectify the
situation. If this continues, I'll be deaf and it might be a good thing too because then I'll not have to
listen to the torment I'm inflicting upon this poor instrument. Why did I choose the violin again? Oh
yes, I liked the violin in Josh's shop. I'm beginning to think that maybe I should've put more thought
into this because if anything has become apparent during the course of this day it's the fact that the
violin is obviously not my forte.
A whisper of breath escapes my lips as I lower the instrument. I can't do this anymore. I cannot
subject an instrument that's done me no harm to anymore torture like this. A deep depression
courses through me, killing hope I never realised I'd allowed myself to have. Damn! I'm slipping up.
I'm letting emotion back in and that's definitely not good. I'm torn out of my own morbid thoughts
by soft words, spoken in a gentle lilting tone that is particular to Alex. Almost musical one might
say if one were so inclined but I'm not so inclined so I'm sticking with lilting. I've already
complimented Alex enough. What on earth is getting into me! Next thing I know I'll be making
friends.
I hate Beau! I hate Laura, Josh, Alex, this school and most of all I hate Beau! How on earth did this
happen? Why am I going to get coffee with Alex? What is it about Alex that makes it difficult for
me to say no to him? He'd interrupted my morbid thought to ask me if I'd like to go get something
to drink with him, at some kind of café or other and I agreed. Why? I shouldn't be doing this.
I watch Alex across the table sipping at my coffee, black with no sugar mind you. It tastes awful but
I'm drinking it anyway. I really do hate coffee with a passion. Why am I drinking coffee if I hate it
this much, you may ask? Rather elementary my dear Watson. I'm trying to punish myself for my
own sheer idiocy. What?! I think making myself drink coffee is suitable punishment for allowing
myself to yet again be dragged off to a coffee shop and maybe, the next time someone offers, the
taste of it might be enough to encourage me to remember myself and actually refuse the offer!
"You're not that bad." Alex stirs his tea, watching me. I want his tea. It's camomile. I can smell it
from here. Even over the rancid scent of my coffee. He's trying to be reassuring but failing
miserably. I might've believed his words if he had not winced as he said them. I raise an eyebrow in
obvious disbelief silently letting him know that I'm not that stupid. "Okay. I guess you do need a lot
of work." Alex finally admits, giving in to the power of my gaze. Can you hear my evil laugh? I
didn't just think that! "So why did you choose the violin?" He asks, the question surprising me
though I don't know why it should. Isn't it always what people like to ask when they find out you do
something? Why art? Why literature? Why teaching? Why dancing? And in my case: why violin?
'I saw a violin…' I start to sign, watching Alex's eyes go wide in realisation. He interrupts me half
way telling me to hang on while he rummages through his bag. He grins, pulling out a pen and pad,
a mixture of innocent satisfaction and excitement upon his features. I'm tempted to write something
nasty, tempted to call him an idiot in an attempt to wipe that satisfaction off his face but I resist the
urge. For some reason he seems too vulnerable and in some strange way, reminds me of what I used
to be before I learnt to no longer care. 'I saw an electric violin in Josh's shop. Something about it
draws me. I want to hear its sound.' I write, and so begins my willing communication with yet
another person in this crazy school of mine. Communication that I just know is going to be my
downfall. Damn me and my newly found suicidal tendencies.

Premonition
It's been a week since I have taken up torturing cats. I haven't seen much of Beau except in passing,
school and work keeping us busy. It's amazing how one can go to school and work in the same place
and still manage to avoid direct conversation. Especially considering that we're in art together and
technically are supposed to be working on our joint project. Avoidance at work is a little easier due
to the fact that Beau works upstairs and I make a point of working downstairs. Josh's winking and
knowing looks have changed, grown worried and concerned. I try to ignore them.
It's Beau that's pulled away. Not me, since I never wanted the contact to begin with. I'm better off
without the unnecessary complications, thank you very much. Only thing is, it still manages to hurt
and I've no idea why. It's a sharp pain made all the more intense by my confusion. I don't know why
he's rather suddenly and completely lost interest in my existence. Maybe he's realised I am not
worth the effort. Maybe he's finally seen the blackness of my soul.
Alex on the other hand, seems to have attached himself to me with the intensity of a barnacle to
rock, persistently sitting beside me during lunch and speaking to me softly even though it's rare that
I bother to respond, still using the pen and pad he had handed to me in the coffee shop. I found out
that like me, he's an only child and also like me usually antisocial. Why then has he chosen to attach
himself to me? Looking for a kindred spirit perhaps? Oh please, hear my mental snort at that one.
Kindred I am not! Yet here I am, still tolerating his presence. I'm beginning to think that the insanity
that's running rampant in this school is contagious!
Alex doesn't approach others because he's afraid that people are going to laugh at him and his violin
playing. He's obviously never listened to himself play if he thinks that! Strange reason to avoid
others but who am I to judge? He likes tea, Evanescence, has an Alsatian as a pet (not the type of
dog I pictured him having) and hates tomatoes. I know all this from him. He can be quite the
chatterbox when he wants to. Seems to alternate between being withdrawn and talkative at random,
sometimes talking to me about anything and everything and nothing in particular and at other times
simply sitting beside me in silence. He's never dated and has a crush on Laura of all people! I
shudder at the thought. Who in their right mind would have a crush on her?
Fortunately for me, he doesn't expect me to be as forthcoming as he is and the only question he's
ever asked me is the one about the violin. My violin playing has not improved, not in the slightest
and I'm reaching the point of giving this entire idea up. I don't even know why I'm still trying.
Alex, has other ideas, however, and is refusing to let me give up, declaring that I'm obviously
interested enough to change my subjects midway through the year and should not let a minor
setback, such as my lack of talent (my own words or thoughts as you please and not his), cause me
to give up. He obviously likes the sound of dying cats! Oh well, at least it gives me an excuse to
stay late after school. Usually that is.
Today, I'm not so fortunate. Alex has an appointment with the doctor and can't stay after school to
teach me. I hate to admit it, but I'm curious about the appointment. Why does Alex have an
appointment with the doctor when he doesn't look ill? Not to me at least. He looks the same now as
the day I met him. Need I say that curious as I am, I don't ask? It's not my place and probably never
will be. To makes matters even worse, Josh has closed shop for the day, so now I have the
misfortune of a day off. So it is that I find myself here, facing what is meant to be my home with
dread and fear thick in my throat and chills running down my spine in premonition. Something is
not right. I just know it. Soon, all too soon it is going to begin again, the reason for my nightmares,
my secret and my silence.
I walk down the driveway of doom. No I'm not over reacting when I refer to it as such. I can't
explain it, but something in the air, the same sense that accompanies my premonition, gives it that
feel. I usually hate everything about any place my father chooses to live in. No matter how
picturesque on the surface, I know the taint that awaits it, the dark secret that all too soon it too will
keep in silence.
All too soon I'm standing at the door, reluctant to open it, fearing what I'll find inside. This is stupid.
Why am I so paranoid? I have yet to see anything out of place. This thought, does not ease my fear,
because if there is one thing that I have learnt over the years it's to trust my instincts.
Cautiously I reach out towards the door and open it, almost expecting it to creak as it opens. Would
be rather fitting if it did. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looks at it, it doesn't.
The lack of spooky sounds, in broad daylight mind you, does nothing to ease the dread thick within
me, fear and anxiety currently waging war with my emotions.
As I step in, my father steps out of the kitchen with a broad smile upon his face, greeting me far too
cheerily for my liking because that can only mean one thing. "Dimitri. This is a pleasant surprise.
You're home early. Your timing is perfect. I'd like you to meet Elizabeth." He turns to the kitchen
and calls out, still in that too cheery voice. "Beth! Come meet my son, Dimitri! He's home early!"
He sounds so happy, so normal. What right does he have to be happy? What right does he have to
smile or to look so carefree? There really is no justice in the world.
Beth's presence pulls me out of my thoughts. She's small, smaller than even me and smiles shyly at
me as she greets me. "Hi Dimitri." Her voice is musical regardless of how you look at it and is filled
with soft gentleness. She looks at me out of hopeful hazel eyes, framed by gentle chocolate curls of
hair that can only be natural. "Your father's told me a lot about you. I hope you don't mind me
dating him. I don't intend to replace your mother. I could never do that." And with those words she
seals my fate once more confirming my sin. My nightmare begins anew and the taint of my secret
darkens as my soul slips deeper into hell.
"Of course Dimitri doesn't mind." My dad interjects, brushing away her concern and bringing a
gentle smile to her lips. She is already infatuated by his charm and probably his good looks. Why is
it that people are so blind? "He's a good boy but not very talkative. Doesn't say much, do you
Dimitri?" I shake my head in agreement, confirming what he says. Not because it's what he expects
of me but because it's true. "He doesn't know you yet, sweetheart, but I'm sure he'll love you as
much as I do, when he does." With that, he wraps his arm around her waist, smiling down at her,
looking all sickly sweet and love struck.
She smiles up at him for a moment longer before turning to face me once more. "Oh, wait a
minute." Her face lights up. "I brought you something!" And with that, she turns and slips back into
the kitchen leaving me and my father alone. The smile fades from his face to be replaced by cold
indifference and displeasure. Oh, I know the source of his displeasure. He's none too pleased with
me and my cold greeting of Beth, but I don't care. I'll never, never welcome anyone he brings home.
Not any of the previous women and not Beth.
Our cold glaring match is interrupted by Beth's return. She's cradling a little box in her hands,
carefully holding it out towards me, the contents thereof obviously fragile. "Your father told me
you're picking up music. It was my grandfathers. I thought you might like it." She's giving me a gift.
How dare she give me something that will remind me of her? An irrational rage courses through my
blood making me see red. How dare she?! How dare she?! It is a mantra continually repeating itself
in my head, over and over again; fuelling the fire of my rage, burning me with its heat until I can no
longer contain it. Reaching forward I knock the box out of her hands wanting nothing more than to
crush it, destroy it and everything that it signifies.
She's hurt, the flash of horror, pain and the trace of tears I can see in her eyes tell me as much, but I
don't care. The box breaks as it hits the ground, the loud clatter echoing strangely through the house,
a hollow sound, almost as empty as my heart. All too soon, it's always too soon, the sound of the
breaking wooden box dies, leaving a tense silence in its wake, a silence filled with rage and
accusation. Unable to bear the silence any longer I turn and run up the stairs, ignoring the soft sob
that comes from Beth and the outcry of rage that comes from my father. Slamming my bedroom
door I lock it with trembling hands. My father is going to kill me for what I've just done. What
possessed me to do it? Why, oh why, oh why? I should know better. What am I going to do? Panic
mixes with terror, my thoughts neither here nor there; only one coherent thought remaining… I'm
going to die.

Pipe dreams
My father never did come after me. I think it may have something to do with Beth. I'm relieved. I
don't want to be relieved because the last thing I want is to be indebted to her but I'm relieved none
the less. It would appear that I've somehow escaped my father's wrath and that's something to be
grateful for. Maybe it would be better if he had come after me. My secret's becoming difficult to
bear and I don't know if I'll be able to bear it for much longer. It's almost as if my mind and
emotions belong to two different planes very different and more often than not at conflict with one
another.
I spent the rest of the afternoon locked away in my room, ignoring the hunger and the soft voices I
could occasionally hear. I can't relax. It's difficult to relax when paranoia runs high, when you
expect the door to bang open at any moment to reveal cold hard eyes filled with wrath and perhaps
a touch of righteous vengeance. Yes, it's possible to experience righteous vengeance and still be in
the wrong. It's all a matter of perspective.
I spend the night the same way as I spent the afternoon, sitting on my bed, my arms wrapped around
my knees staring at the door, watching for any sign of movement. Paranoia does that to you. I
must've drifted off because I suddenly wake to see early morning light filtering in through the
window, gently illuminating my rather bare room. I leap off my bed as if burned and hastily get
ready for school, only one thought dominating my mind. I have to get away from here as quietly
and quickly as possible.
Pulling my door open I halt in shock, my eyes going wide at what meets my gaze. Lying on the
ground, just before my door and innocent as can be is a familiar wooden box. I bend down and pick
it up carefully, noticing that it's been carefully glued together, the cracks in the wood barely visible.
If I hadn't explicitly been looking for them in order to confirm my suspicions as to where this box
had come from, I'd have missed them entirely. This is Beth's box. The box I've broken yet despite
that she's fixed it and is once more giving it to me. Why?
Suddenly remembering my original intent I hastily slip the box into my school bag and head out my
bedroom door once again. I run down the stairs, my footsteps light as I do so. I'm used to the need
for silence and as they say, practice makes perfect. I've had ample practice, believe you me. More
than enough, in actual fact, but we won't be getting into that. I slip out the front door and into the
chill of the morning air, still running as I head down the driveway. In fact, I don't stop running until
I reach school a whole forty minutes before the first bell. I slip into the hallways which for some
reason are open and head towards my music classroom. I like that classroom. It's small, warm and
rather private because the teachers here like giving students a private lesson at least once a week.
I push the door open, not even giving myself time to hesitate only to freeze in a doorway for the
second time this morning. Alex is already in the room, practicing his violin and it's too late to back
out now because he opens his eyes and notices me, giving me a shy smile. "Hello." He greets me
softly dropping his violin. "I missed practice yesterday afternoon so I came early today to try and
make up for it." He explains even though I've made no move to ask him anything. "Do you want to
practice too?" He asks innocently.
I shake my head vigorously and take a step back, intending to leave but he stops me, his voice soft
as usual. "Don't go. You can sit here if you like." He gestures to a seat, the violin bow still in his left
hand. Yes, Alex, like Beau, is left handed, not that it makes a difference. I step back into the
classroom, closing the door softly behind me and head for the seat in silence. Alex smiles at me
before lifting his violin and resuming his playing; playing a gentle tune that calms and soothes my
spirit.
I allow myself to drift along with the melody, to lose myself to the music for a moment, the soft
tune wiping away my anxiety, fear and tension. Calmer now, I remember the wooden box and
absently wonder what's in it. Reaching into my bag I remove the box, tracing my fingers over the
wood for a moment, before opening it. The box contains a dark green velvet cloth, wrapped around
something. Gently removing the cloth from the box I reverently begin to unwind it. Somehow it
seems that Beth's reverence for this object has rubbed off on me. It's a realisation I don't give too
much thought to.
Finally the object is unwrapped. I stare at it in confusion. I have no idea what it is. It's carefully
carved of wood and composed of seven small pipes of different sizes seemingly attached to one
another. It almost reminds me of a cross between a harmonica and a flute. It has to be an instrument.
It can't be anything else, but it's an instrument I'm unfamiliar with. I am so engrossed with the
instrument before me that I don't even realise that Alex has stopped playing. "Panpipes." I jump at
the soft voice right beside me, the word seeming to echo through the air. How did Alex manage to
sneak up on me?
I blink up at him in confusion. "Panpipes." Alex repeats, pointing down at the wooden pipes in my
lap. "You want to try panpipes?" I lift my hands to sign a response, pausing mid motion when I
remember that this isn't Beau. Alex doesn't understand sign language. When did I get accustomed to
having someone actually understand me? This is not good. Beau is influencing me even when
ignoring me!
I grab my bag and begin to rummage around in it, trying to force thoughts of Beau out of my mind.
Why can I not forget him? Why does his behaviour towards me bother me so much? I want him to
leave me alone for crying out loud. Why is it bothering me so much now that he has? Where did I
put my pen? My pen! Frustration courses through me, threatening to bring me to tears. Nothing is
going right anymore. I can't play the violin, my father has brought Beth home, Beau is ignoring me,
I cannot seem to get Beau out of my mind and now I cannot find my bloody pen!
I'm saved from tears by Alex, silently holding out the pen and pad he'd given me at the coffee shop.
I grip the pen as one would a lifeline, my hand trembling violently and my knuckles white. What on
earth is wrong with me? Why am I getting emotional for no reason at all? When did I lose this much
control? I blame Beau for everything. If not for him, I'd be alright. If not for him and his
interference I wouldn't be falling apart.
Alex is looking at me, concern in his brown gaze. When did I do something that warrants concern?
Oh yes, I'm trembling violently, clutching his pen in a death grip, too tense and upset to do anything
but stare blankly back at him. Why do I have the pen again? I needed it for something only I can't
quite remember what. I wanted to tell Alex something. I glance down into my lap, seeking out a
page and spot the panpipes. Oh yeah, the panpipes. 'I got them as a gift.' My writing is awful, shaky,
refusing to belie my distress. If Alex missed it before, the evidence is now before him, on paper,
given away by my own hand. A flash of anger tempts me to violently scratch the words out, to
scribble over them hiding both their message and the emotion they reveal but I resist for that would
only reveal the depths of my distress even further.
"Are you alright?" Alex asks. How could he not? After the, oh so wonderful, show I've just put on? I
need space. I need time but most of all I need to get Beau out of my mind! I take a shaky breath,
forcing myself to release my death hold upon the pen, forcing myself to calm before nodding. I
don't want to get Alex involved in my life. I don't want to get Alex hurt but most importantly of all I
don't want Alex, don't want anyone anywhere near the secret I hold, to keep myself safe. I'm
beginning to wonder if it'll even be possible to keep them and myself safe. Perhaps, as I suspect is
the case, it's already too late.
Alex watches me in silence for a moment before coming to a decision. He nods, glancing back at
the paper upon which I've written my response before speaking, pretending that nothing is amiss.
"Would you like to play them? I think they'd suit you." He pulls a face. "More than the violin." He
looks pained at the admission but I take no offence. I'm far too grateful. He's dropped the subject of
my distress. Besides, the reality of the situation is I'm terrible at the violin, assuming you don't like
the sound of dying cats, of course. I regret my lack of talent for a moment as I look down at the
panpipes in my lap and consider Alex's words carefully. I really do like that violin in Josh's shop.
It's special and I have to admit, I was kind of hoping I could earn it, hoping that I could, for once in
my life be, oh I don't know, special I suppose. Foolish, I know but I guess I'm only human and
susceptible to human flaws, idiocy among them.
I appreciate Alex's honesty. It takes a lot of courage to be honest when you know that your honesty
may very well get you into trouble and Alex, he's intimidated by everything, even me. I don't know
why and I don't exactly want to ask, lest I actually receive a response and maybe see a reflection of
myself within it. 'I think' I pause as I write; taking a moment to contemplate my decision, a decision
I know is already made. 'I would like to try.' Damn Beth, damn her and the gift she insists on giving
me, damn Josh and his violin, Alex and his soft words and most of all Beau and his interference!
Damn them all for what they are doing to my life.

A hard pill to swallow

Just when I start getting accustomed to being ignored by Beau, he decides to disrupt my life yet
again. I'm starting to get a feeling that he gets a kick out of being entirely unpredictable, because
here I now am, a week and a half later, with Beau sitting beside me and grinning at me, as if he'd
never ignored me to begin with. He'd walked into art class, seconds after me and seated himself
beside me. Dropping his bag he greeted me warmly, lightly commenting on how our teachers are
running us ragged, all of this without so much as blinking and as casually as greeting an old friend.
What does he think he's playing at? Ignoring me for over a week and then resorting to a familiarity
he never had to begin with?!
I tense and raise an eyebrow in disbelief. I will not be toyed with! I won't let him get away with
pretending that everything is alright when it isn't. I never asked him to disrupt my life and I
certainly didn't ask him to toy with my mind by ignoring me, completely, for no apparent reason,
whatsoever. 'What are you playing at?' I sign aggressively, my emotions unfortunately given away
by the tension in my body and consequently my hands. Anger, frustration and distress are
remarkably easy to demonstrate even without a voice. Sign language can, unfortunately for me, be
every bit as expressive as a voice. I hate it! I hate the fact that I cannot hide my distress from Beau!
I don't want him to know how much he's gotten to me. I don't want him to see that he's managing to
break through my defences. It hurts! Can he not see that it hurts?
I must say, only now does he have the decency to look ashamed! He's sending me a sheepish glance,
nervously tugging on his pink and purple strands of hair, shifting in his seat; as well he should be
because now I'm glaring at him heatedly, all my anger and frustration directed at him! "I'm sorry
about, um…" Beau stumbles over his words, looking more than a touch uncomfortable now, "you
know…"
He looks at me, silently pleading with me, obviously wanting me to drop this but I'm not about to
let him be. Not after everything he's done and is doing to me! 'No, I don't know! Why don't you
enlighten me?' I sign, for a moment wishing I could use my voice.
Beau licks his lips and I spot a flicker of guilt in his gaze moments before he drops it, apparently no
longer able to meet my heated gaze. To be honest, with the intensity of the hatred that I feel towards
him right now, I am surprised he didn't drop his gaze sooner. "I'm sorry for, um, avoiding you."
Beau manages to mumble. If I'd not been listening for his response I would have missed it entirely.
He is not looking at me. Damn him for not looking at me! How on earth am I supposed to respond
to him when he won't look at me? Frustrated beyond belief I reach over towards him and shove his
chin up. None too gently I might add. I'm angry, ok! I do not want to be gentle! 'What are you
playing at?' I repeat my question. I'm not looking for an apology; I'm looking for an explanation.
Beau looks confused, lost and more than a little ashamed. His shifting has increased and his gaze
keeps flickering, never truly focusing upon me but fortunately not focusing completely away from
me either. "I was stupid." Beau's words are wary, filled with confusion. "I was very, very stupid. I'm
sorry. I know that I was pushing things and…" He shrugs, cutting the rest of his response off. "I'm
sorry Dimitri. I just needed time to think." He swallows nervously; now as tense as I myself am.
I glare at him, hating him for making me feel like this, hating him for breaking down my defences
without so much as a by your leave and then toying with my emotions by ignoring me, and now he
just expects me to accept it? "Please Dimitri." He's begging me now. "I'm sorry."
There really is something wrong with me. Angry, and hurt as I am I don't push it. He's hiding
something from me. I can see it, hear it but I don't push it. What right do I have to demand his secret
from him when I'm hiding so much? None whatsoever and that's why I let it be. I nod and turn back
to the art board before me.
Beau sighs in relief beside me and I hear the scrape of his seat along wood as he draws it closer
towards me. It's a rough sound and cuts painfully through the tension and anger that still resides
between us but I choose to ignore that for now. I don't want to open wounds that are better left
alone. Mine, I might add. I have a feeling that my confrontation with Beau, is going to hurt me,
perhaps even break me. That's why I should let this go. Or so I keep telling myself. Denial. Oh the
joys of the emotion. "We're behind in our project." Beau points out softly beside me.
'And why do you think that is?' I can't help but sign, finding I'm more bitter that I wish to be. What
use is there for bitterness? It never changes anything and never eases the pain, but I can't help it. I
am bitter. Bitter, bitter, bitter and I don't like it. I hate Beau's ability to make me feel when all I truly
wish for is oblivion. Is that too much to ask for? Apparently!
"Dimitri…" He pauses. The silence stretches out between us, filled with my bitterness, filled with
anger, betrayal and if I'm to be completely honest, a touch of hurt. He's waiting for something.
What's he waiting for? I turn to him in frustration and he continues to speak, meeting my gaze
directly. "I'm sorry." So that's what he was waiting for. He was waiting for me to look at him, to
acknowledge him so that I may acknowledge his words. Words I am far from ready to acknowledge.
"Please come home with me today." He pauses, looking uncomfortable all over again. "There's
someone I want you to meet and we can work on our art project while we're there. It's due
tomorrow." The last is said in a rush, almost as if he's afraid that I'm not going to allow him to
finish. Perceptive I must admit, because I was just about to refuse. I don't want to go to his home. I
don't want to meet any more people and more importantly I don't want anything more to do with
Beau!
He has me cornered. We need to finish the project that we've yet to even truly start and come to
think of it, it is due tomorrow. How had that managed to slip my mind? Oh yes, I've been too busy
with music and trying to keep sane! And, let's not forget my aversion to homework! I never do it
anyway so why bother to keep track of when it is due?
'What about work?' I sign, using up my last trump card hoping it'll get me out of this...
"I already called Josh and he said we can take the day off. Fully paid." He adds hastily as I raise my
arms to once again sign a protest. Darn, he's psychic. Either that or I'm starting to become
predictable which is even worse. If that's the case it means he's starting to know me. Unfortunately I
fear that it's the latter.
I'm tempted to refuse but I can't. I may be a bastard but I'm not that much of a bastard. This project
is going to influence Beau's mark as well as mine and while I care little about my own grade I find I
can't let him get a bad grade because of this. I have no idea why I should care. I mean, after
everything he's thus far done to me he would deserve it but I guess insanity really is contagious
because for some reason, on yet another impulse I refuse to pay close attention to, I agree to go
home with him to work on a project I care little about.
"Thank you." Beau looks relieved. Wait. Why is he thanking me? I've yet to do anything that
deserves gratitude of any kind! Ever! And when I say this I mean in the whole sixteen years that I
have been alive! I don't want gratitude. I want people to leave me alone and I don't care if I have to
be an asshole to hold onto what little sanity I have left! Why does no one get this? Why have I
betrayed even myself? Why do I care about Beau?!
Beau's waiting. What is it with him and waiting? Always expecting something from me? I'm empty
and have nothing to give! Can he not see that? I'm dead inside, so why is he always waiting, looking
at me, searching for something? 'It's…' I begin to sign, knowing he wants some kind of response,
but what response do I give him? What can I say? What is he looking for? I can't find the words to
express… 'Don't mention it.' It's a simple phrase, as neutral as I'm able to find. I cannot give him
anymore than that. I don't want to give him anymore because I'm already losing myself to him,
losing parts of myself I never even realised I had and I don't want to lose anymore. It's breaking me.
I just know it and there's nothing I can do about it, nothing but continue to resist for as long as I'm
able.
He nods, accepting my response, pushing the matter no further. I told you he's perceptive. "Meet me
outside after school. We can walk home together. I already told my mom that I'm bringing someone
home after school. She's expecting you to come home with me. That way I can introduce you and
we'll still have the rest of the afternoon to work on our project."
Oh, the sheer audacity of it! Damn him and his assumptions! Damn him for assuming that I'd agree
but most of all damn him for being right! 'Ok.' I sign rather abruptly, turning away from him to face
my art board once more, letting him know that the conversation is over. Bitter, I'm bitter and
defeated and it's a hard pill to swallow. I'm defeated.

The taint of darkness

Beau seems to be feeling awkward, glancing at me nervously as we walk towards his home. It's so
unlike him that it's even starting to get to me. What's he thinking? First he forces his way into my
life with his devil may care attitude, then he ignores me for over a week and then, just when I start
thinking I'm free of him, he's back, only he's acting all awkward. Does he have some kind of
dissociative identity disorder, or something? That might explain his idiocy but somehow I doubt the
answer is that simple. It never is.
Beau pauses before his own front door, now blatantly nervous. He's shifting, tugging nervously at
his pink and purple strands of hair and rather obviously avoiding my gaze. I'll never understand
him. It was his idea to bring me here in the first place and now he's acting as if he doesn't want me
here. Would he make up his mind already! It's not like I want to be here after all. "Dimitri." I jump
when he speaks. I don't know why but for some reason I'd expected him to remain silent. Stupid, I
know but what can I say? He's not spoken to me since art class, for crying out loud! "Can I ask a
favour from you?"
A favour? He wants something from me? I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, not in the mood to
sign. If he can be difficult, then so can I. Two can play at this game. Why should I give him any
quarter when he's not giving me any?
"Please be nice to her?" What?! Did he? No. He couldn't have. Did he just imply? I choke, silently
gasping for breath, trying to gather my thoughts. Am I really that horrible that he has to ask me to
be nice? I guess I am. I'm trying to push people away and the easiest way to do so is to be a bastard.
I want to be a bastard. I don't want people to like me! Why then does Beau's implication hurt so
much? "It's not that I don't think you are nice or anything." Beau continues in a rush. "It's just…"
Silence, thick awkward silence hangs between us. Beau is staring at the ground and I'm staring at
him. Neither of us is moving. It's almost as if time is now standing still. Beau looks lost and hurt
and I? I'm confused, drowning in emotions I do not understand. What am I doing in front of Beau's
door willingly waiting to meet yet another person when all I want to do is pretend no one exists?
What am I doing a side to Beau I never knew existed behind the carefree, happy go lucky exterior?
The door opens and time seems to once again resume its pace in a sudden rush of movement, like a
train rushing past at high speed, figuratively taking my breath away and I gape in disbelief. Looking
up at me is another sparkling green gaze, filled with life, the exact same shade as Beau's only
framed by the darkest ebony. She is looking up at me, because she's seated in a wheelchair, yet she
still manages to be breathtaking, smiling up at me and reaching out towards me with her right hand.
"Hi. I'm Layla." She speaks slowly and carefully and her tone lacks inflection. Something is not
quite right about it but I can't seem to put my finger on it. Her voice lacks emotion, almost as if
she's completely emotionless but her gaze belies that fact. There is emotion in her, passion as strong
as the passion that hides in Beau's gaze.
I turn to Beau in desperation, suddenly understanding why he'd asked me to be nice. This is his
sister. She's too young to be his mother and resembles him too much not to be closely related to
him. She's in a wheelchair. I want to run, to escape this strange confrontation that is leaving me
feeling awkward and out of place. I don't know what to do, how to act or even how to return her
greeting and am desperately seeking some kind of guidance from Beau. Beau, however, is not
looking at me. He's looking at her, with a soft smile upon his lips, marked by deep sadness and
grief. 'Layla.' Beau signs to her. Wait a minute, he is signing to her? What is going on here? What
did I just miss? She's deaf?! She can't be deaf! 'This is Dimitri. He speaks using sign language.'
Relief flows over her, tension I never even realised was there, gone from her smile, the tilt of her
lips now more genuine, more radiant. She's grinning at me, her gaze full of approval though why
that would be so I do not know. Why would she have a reason to approve of anything regarding me?
'Are you deaf?' She signs curiously, innocently and in her innocence steps onto dangerous ground.
I stare at her, uncertain if I should respond. The question, no, this entire situation has the potential to
go very, very wrong and with my luck it will. I'm the centre of attention and this conversation has
the potential to get me into trouble. Did I mention that I hate being the centre of attention? 'No.' I
sign shortly.
She raises her eyebrow in surprise and I can practically see her mind working. 'So are you mute
then?' She signs, oh so innocently, destroying my world with the question I've been expecting and
dreading. Beau's looking at me, searching, and seeking confirmation for suspicions I can see just
beneath the surface of his gaze. Suspicions he has yet to give voice to. I can see it, written all over
him. He wants to know, is dying to know if that's the reason I do not speak. Damn him and his
perception. Why can they just not make assumptions and let me be? "Why, hello there." A warm
voice rescues me from my dilemma. "It's about time you got here. I'm Meredith." A rather homely
woman is standing at the door, short hair the exact same shade as Beau's framing hazel eyes. "Come
on in. Layla, Beau, you should be ashamed of yourselves, making a guest stand outside." She signs
as she speaks, sending both her children a reprimanding glance.
Layla wheels herself back, winking at me before turning to her mom and signing an apology. Beau
is still looking at me, his eyes knowing, filled with sadness and grief. I'm trapped by that gaze and
the pain and disappointment in it. Tearing my gaze from him I step into his home, dread thick in my
chest and sign a greeting to Meredith. She looks surprised. Damn Beau, did he not tell his family
that I don't speak. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were deaf." Once again she speaks as she
signs, not seeming to realise that she does so.
'He's not deaf.' Layla signs, rolling her eyes and winking at me again. What is it with this family? I
think I'm beginning to see where Beau gets his insanity from. So it's not just the school then. This
entire place is insane! 'I think he's mute.' Relief courses through me and I have to resist the urge to
allow it escape. She's finally made the assumption I've been hoping she'd make. Assumptions can
sometimes be rather useful. Beau is another matter entirely. He's still watching me and that
disconcerts me.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Meredith apologises, still signing, for Layla's sake. "That will teach me to jump to
conclusions. Beau never mentioned anything. All he said was that he wanted to bring a friend home.
It's been so long since he's brought anyone home so I guess I didn't question it. Come help me set
the table." The last is directed at Beau and all too soon, they're gone, leaving me alone with Layla.
Layla's watching me, her gaze every bit as searching as her brother's, every bit as discomforting. I
shift awkwardly beneath it, wishing I was anywhere but here, wishing I'd gone with my initial
instinct and refused to come. Too late now. What's done is done and I'm going to have to bear the
weight of the consequences. Consequences I don't even want to contemplate. After what seems to
me like an eternity of scrutiny she nods, seeming to have found what she was looking for. 'I like
you.' She signs. 'It's about time my brother found someone again. He's been afraid to, ever since
the…' here she pauses for but a moment, her own gaze touched by the same grief that's hidden in
Beau's, 'accident.' She finishes abruptly, pointing down at herself, distracting me from her first
implication with her second. I should've paid more attention to the first. It might have spared me
what happened later but hindsight is something that's only gained after something happens and not
before and so, naive as I am, I'm instead distracted by her second implication.
'You weren't always like this?' Way to go. Go me. Congratulations Einstein. Someone give me a
medal for stating the obvious! I mean, it is fairly obvious that she's not always been deaf. Her
articulation is far too clear for someone who's never been able to hear. The wheel chair is another
story. I've no way of knowing if she's ever been able to walk before but something tells me that the
two, her hearing and the wheelchair, are connected.
'No. I wasn't always like this.' I can see the deep grief in her gaze as she signs her response. 'It
happened two years ago but it wasn't Beau's fault. No matter what he tells you, it was not his fault.
What they did to me, to him isn't his fault.' Ever had a moment of great revelation, a sudden
epiphany? A moment where something that didn't make sense before all of a sudden clicks into
place? Understanding dawns upon me with the force of a sledgehammer, grinding me into the
ground. Someone hurt her. Someone hurt her badly to get to Beau. Her anger, the anger I can see
smouldering beneath the grief in her gaze, it's anger on behalf of her brother. She's angry at what
this is doing to him.
As for me? I can't breathe, I can't think, the shattered fragments of my crumbling defences cutting
deep into me, wounding me, tearing me to open huge gaping wounds of pain, bleeding profusely. I
see a reflection of all my sin within the grief and anger in her gaze. What right do I have to feel that
life has treated me unjustly when someone as innocent as her has been hurt in such a way? What
right does a demon such as I have to stand in her presence when the darkness of my sins, the depth
of my transgressions is far worse than that of those that put her into that wheelchair, those that I so
burningly now despise with every fibre of my being for doing this to her… for doing this to Beau.
What right do I have to breathe the same air? What right do I have to live? Darkness stains my soul,
reaches out towards me and I welcome it and the oblivion it promises me.

Mr Watermelon
The world rushes back, pushing darkness and oblivion away and forcing perception right back in.
I'm on my hands and knees, staring blankly at the carpet, panting desperately. Inhale, exhale and
inhale again. I need to breathe, I have to breathe. Someone is crying. I hear the soft whisper of sobs
as if from a distance. Someone is also touching me, running their hands over me and speaking to
me, I think. Only their words are muffled by my panicked mind, possessing neither sound nor form
and certainly not meaning.
The hands are now wrapping around my waist and pulling me up, lifting me up till I'm cradled in
strong arms, cradled in gentle warmth that I suddenly want to bury myself into, that warmth holding
promise of comfort. I allow myself a moment of selfishness, a moment of weakness and let my eyes
to drift closed once more, refusing to acknowledge the reality of what is happening around me and
simply savouring the comfort I receive from the touch. Touch and comfort, both of which have so
long been denied me. So I'm human, damned and stained by sin as I am, I'm still human and
unfortunately for me, still plagued by emotion.
The touch of cool silk upon my skin pulls me out of my delusions as effectively as being burned
with scalding water. I leap up and would've fallen off of the bed I've apparently been placed on if
not for those warm arms once again wrapping around me and holding me steady while I fight for
balance and orientation. To my horror, I'm once again staring into bright green eyes and they do not
belong to Beau's sister. No, of course they wouldn't! Murphy has taken control of my life after all.
They belong to Beau. "Are you okay?" Beau enquires softly, frowning at me, arms still wrapped
around me even though I've long since regained my balance.
I push him away and take a step back, nearly falling back onto the bed when the surface thereof
unexpectedly knocks into my knees. 'I'm fine.' I sign shortly, cursing my body for once more
betraying me. I'm trembling and my words are shaky for it. He notices. He'd have to be blind not to.
So I continue, desperately trying to explain myself, yet at the same time desperately trying to avoid
the true reason for my distress. 'I sometimes have attacks of anxiety… usually when I go to new
places.' It's an easy excuse for me to use and should be believable. I have a diagnosis to prove it. I
blanked out a few times a couple of years ago, when I still didn't have control over my emotions
and the school councillor sent me to a doctor. I hate doctors. Always asking you to tell them what's
wrong when it should be them telling you. Go figure. 'I'll be alright.'
He doesn't believe me. He does not look like he believes me. He's sending me a sceptical glance,
holding my gaze in silence for the longest moment. How does he do that? How does he capture my
attention so completely, in exclusion to everything else around me? Why does he never seem to
accept anything I tell him? The lies I choose to share? Disbelief aside, it looks like he's going to let
this slide, because he nods and slips out the room, his soft words echoing through my mind. "I'll be
right back. I'm just going to let my mother and sister know you're alright. We'll eat a little later."
It seems easy, too easy and when something is too easy you know that there's going to be trouble.
Beau has dropped the subject and is letting me be. For now that is. Please note: the key operative
term is 'for now'. As I have already stated, things are never that simple. I take the opportunity
presented by Beau's absence to look around the room Beau has brought me to. The sheets really are
silk, a mixture of pale cream and white. I never would have pictured Beau as a pale cream and
white kind of person, assuming, of course, that this is in fact his room. Cream dominates the whole
room, cream intermittently broken with burgundy, burgundy curtains, burgundy mats and burgundy
finishing.
I make my way round the room, looking for personality, for those small distinguishing
characteristics that a room usually holds which define the personality of the one that resides within
it. I don't have to look far. Now that I'm looking for them, several objects of interest begin to catch
my eye. Take for example the rack of CD's, more CD's that I've ever seen in one place, barring a CD
store of course. They cover half a wall, for crying out loud. Even more interesting is the fact that
upon closer inspection, I find that they, just as in Josh's shop, also cover a wide range of styles.
Classic, modern, jazz, I'm sure you get the idea. There's a study desk, situated right beside a large
window, obviously taking advantage of the natural light that filters in and situated right beside the
desk is an easel. This has to be Beau's room. How can it not be? Music CD's, easel and let's not
forget the mess of art supplies that's scattered across the desk: paints, pastels, pencils, clay. You
name it, he probably has it.
I don't know if you realise this, but the things a person keeps in their room reveal a lot about a
person, which is why I tend to stick to the bare minimum when it comes to my own room. Yes, I
know, that is rather telling in and of itself but at least I don't have parts of my soul on display for all
to see. Not that I would ever consider taking anyone there. Now Beau's room tells me a lot about
him. It's neat, organised and contains objects that reveal his likes to me. Likes I have already
managed to establish, mind you, such as music and art. As telling as some objects may be, it's the
lack of objects that's often the most telling and Beau's room is very telling in that regard because
what I don't see, is anything to do with sports. You know, the typical things you would expect a jock
to have, a ball, a bat, a medal, football jersey perhaps? I mean, I know he has one. I've seen him in it
but I don't see it in the room. Perhaps it's secreted away in one of the many cupboards and drawers
that surround me but even if it is, the lack of anything remotely sporty in plain view is still rather
telling. It tells me something is off about the whole thing. If I had only this room to go on, I'd say
that Beau does not possess a single jock cell in his entire body. I mean, I've even managed to solve
the mystery of what instrument Beau plays and still have yet to see anything at all that would even
hint at him being a jock.
In case anyone is wondering, he plays the guitar. I found two beside his bed, a base guitar and a
normal guitar. You know, one of those typical wooden ones that you see everywhere. Not that the
base guitar is not normal or anything, only it's not nearly as popular as the wooden acoustic one or
the electric one. I trail my fingers over the neck, feeling the strings beneath my fingertips and
absently wonder at the sound the instrument makes beneath the light caress of Beau's fingers. I'm
once again startled out of my thoughts by Beau's touch upon my shoulder. Damn it. He's caught me
snooping in his room. How does he manage to sneak up on me like that? It's not fair! He's a jock
and as such should be loud, rude and insensitive. Damn him for not being any of those things. "We
have about four hours till supper. My mother says it's alright if we skip her light lunch but I think
we should get to work if we still want to finish the art project."
I nod relieved to have somehow missed getting scolded for snooping where I should not. I know
that technically I haven't invaded his space. Everything I've thus far looked at is in plain view and I
have yet to open any of his cupboards but I still feel like I was snooping, walking around his room
without his permission and without him being there, touching things he probably holds dear. I have
no right to do that yet he chooses to say nothing. Reaching behind the burgundy curtain he pulls out
a second easel, handing it silently to me before covering the floor with newspaper and setting out
paints. Newspaper to protect the floor from accidents and paint to, you know, paint with. Handing
me a brush he smiles warmly at me before proceeding to slide clips into his own hair. Hold on a
second. He's sliding clips into his hair! I know why he's doing it, to keep his hair out of his face
while he works but it still doesn't change the fact that he is sliding clips into his hair!
Beau notices that I'm staring at him in disbelief. The warm smile upon his face changes into a grin,
accompanied by a spark of mischief in his eyes. It's an expression I'm more accustomed to seeing
upon him than the ones I've been privy too since his apology this morning. He's reaching out
towards me, brushing my hair out of my face, his touch butterfly soft upon my skin. Warmth is
flowing gently into me, tempting me, making me regret every minute of my life, the things I have
done, the things I have not done but most of all the things I have missed. The things I continue to
miss and do not deserve. 'You're as guilty as me. It's as much your fault as it's mine. Your sin, my
sin, a sin we shall share till we die. I know it. You know it.' It is but a simple echo of words that
continue to haunt me, residing deep in the back of my mind. Words I cannot forget, cannot escape.
They will never give me peace, reminding me of the darkness that resides within me, a sinful
contrast to the purity implied by the cream and white room I now find myself in. A room I have no
right to set foot in, yet here I am with Beau's soft touch running through my hair, sliding clips into
it. Wait a minute. He's sliding clips into my hair?!
I jerk back with the realisation, my hands moving straight towards my hair and the clips that now
reside there, fully intending to pull them out. I don't get far. Beau's chuckle draws my attention and
makes me forget what I'm doing. He looks so happy, so carefree when he does that but now that I
know what to look for I can see the underlying guilt and grief within him. It is that guilt and grief
that makes his laugh sound hollow, a touch too cheerful perhaps, but genuine none the less. "You
should've seen your face." Beau's grinning at me like a lunatic, reaching forward and grapping my
wrists, pulling my hands away from my hair. "Leave them in. They really do help to keep your hair
out of your face when you paint. Besides, they look better on you than they do on me." He's teasing
me! This crazy pink and purple haired person, with sparkling green eyes, Mr Watermelon, has the
audacity to tease me! Damn him and his audacity!

Five words
Beau has won the battle but most certainly not the war. Regardless of the fact that he seems to have
won every single battle thus far, I refuse to admit defeat. I'm bound to win eventually and as long as
it's the war, I can accept defeat in small battles that are fairly inconsequential in the long run. Yes,
you guessed it! I do indeed still have the clips in my hair and am currently standing across from
Beau painting. It was democratically and rather vocally decided that I'm to paint the half that
contains the dragon and Beau will paint the half that contains the warrior of my composite design. I
say democratically because the requirement to vote was a voice and seeing as mine has not seen any
use in ten years, Beau outvoted me simply by telling me what to do, claiming that I'm far more
skilled with dragons than he, and then turning to his easel, effectively cutting off any response I
could've given. Oh, and do not think I'm oblivious to his scheming. I can see that smile play across
his lips from a mile away.
So here I am, painting a purple dragon and the clips are still in my hair. I must admit, as effective as
the hair in my face is at hiding my eyes, it can get in the way when I'm actually trying to see what
I'm doing, so Beau does have a point. However, I'm not about to admit it. Admitting it would mean
admitting that I actually care. Yes, my dragon is purple! I certainly hope that you have a problem
with it because then I can laugh at you and tell you to take a hike. I happen to like purple and it has
nothing to do with the purple streaks in Beau's hair. If it did, the dragon would be more pink than
purple!
Beau, as I have said, is painting the warrior. I've no idea what colours he's using because his easel is
facing away from me. Come to think of it, he can't see what I'm doing either. Strange, how we both
seem to have gone off on our own tangents, even though this is meant to be a joint project. Good
thing that we did the draft together, setting our pages side by side and drawing a rough draft as to
where everything is supposed to be. I shudder to think what would happen if we had not. Beau's
grass may end higher, or perhaps lower than mine, and the perspective… don't even get me started
on perspective. I hate it when someone messes up perspective. You have to be blind not to see that
you're messing with it! And I mean in the literal and not figurative sense. As it is, we'll probably end
up with mismatched grass and sand, seeing as neither of us seems to be paying attention to what the
other is doing. Oh well, might make for an interesting picture.
Lost in my art and the rather rhythmic flow of brush upon paper, I'm more than a touch startled
when a sudden knock upon Beau's bedroom door pulls me from my work. "Beau, we're having
supper early." I can hear his mother's voice drift in through the closed door, filled with happiness
and a touch of excitement. Something must've happened, something good from the sounds of it.
"Your father's come home early from work and we have a surprise visitor. Wash your hands and
bring Dimitri down."
Beau raises a questioning eyebrow at his mother's words, absently rinsing his paint brush and
wiping it clean. "Sure mom." He calls to her, placing his paintbrush down and turning towards me.
"We can finish after supper." Suddenly he grins cheerfully, his mother's excitement affecting him. "I
wonder who the surprise visitor is. I hope it's Kia."
'Kia?' I sign in confusion sending paint splatters into the air, the paintbrush I hold slipping through
my fingers. I make a grab for it, barely catching it as I do so, and receive a bright purple line across
my hand for all my efforts. Note to self, don't sign when holding paintbrush; or anything else for
that matter but for now let us start with paintbrushes.
Dipping the paintbrush into water, I hastily rinse it and wipe it clean, not meeting Beau's amused
glance and trying my damndest to ignore the light amused chuckle that fills the room. It is a deep
warm tone filled with mirth that sends shivers down my spine. Yes, I know damndest is not
grammatically correct but it is the word I'm going to use. Deal with it. "My brother." Beau responds,
that warm chuckle vibrating through his chest as he turns to walk out the bedroom door. "He's ten
years older than me and has already moved out so I don't see him all that much."
Placing the paintbrush down, I wipe my hands on a stray piece of cloth that, if the random colours
smeared all over it are anything to go by, is used precisely for that purpose. I follow Beau to the
bathroom still ignoring the random chuckles of amusement I can hear escaping his lips. He's
laughing at me. The interfering person is laughing at me and I don't know what to do about it. So I
do nothing. I keep my gaze dropped for fear of meeting the amusement in his and wordlessly wash
my hands. Drying them, I'm about to exit the bathroom when his soft voice, still infused with
amusement, stops me. "Dimitri?" He's waiting, always waiting, always wanting a reaction from me
and my pause is obviously not enough of a reaction. Suddenly nervous, my stomach desperately
practicing for auditions to some kind of circus (Why else would it be doing somersaults?), I turn,
slowly, inevitably drawing my gaze up to meet his.
"You missed a spot." He whispers, reaching out towards me. I tense. He's touching me. What is it
with him and always touching me? His touch is soft; a gentle trace of a single finger across my
cheek and it still manages to get to me, to burn me, to pull desire from me, desire for more of that
gentle warmth he keeps tantalising me with. I'm about to whimper, the conflict within me fighting
to be given voice, the sound rising to my throat against my will, when I'm saved by Beau's
withdrawal, a cheeky smile upon his lips and purple paint upon his fingertip. I turn and flee the
bathroom, running from temptation, from the emotions Beau stirs within me and from the sudden
burning desire to give voice to them… running… such an instinctive, defensive reaction. If only it
were possible to run from everything.
As usual, not watching where I'm going (I really need to work on that), I trip and for the second
time in a single afternoon, once, again find myself upon my hands and knees. This time though,
there are no warm, strong hands to help me up. My head is spinning, my thoughts spinning out of
control along with my wayward emotions. Emotions I have so obviously failed to kill. I take a few
deep breaths, forcing myself to calm, forcing myself to once again reach for the void that I have
lived in for as long as I can remember, a void Beau keeps throwing things into. Damn him. For
invading my space! Physical, mental, and emotional. When did I become such a wreck?
Ignoring the question I can't answer, I force myself to stand, keeping up a steady pace of breath.
Inhale, exhale, inhale… exhale… breathe. Grasping as much a semblance of normality as I'm likely
to get, I walk, yes, walk, not run, down the stairs, stairs that are nowhere near as elaborate as the
ones in the house my father has just purchased, mind you. I like these better, decorated in wood and
covered in a thick lush cream carpet that your feet practically sink into, silky softness between your
toes, pure luxury, luxury that Layla can no longer experience. The realisation hits me like a ton of
bricks, my gaze meeting hers, so much like Beau's and like his filled with concern, concern for me.
I halt, halfway down the stairs, caught in her gaze, caught in the sudden realisation that she's had far
more taken from her than I have from me. Yet here am I, having a nervous breakdown while she…
she smiles, greets me happily and worries about her brother… and me. What on earth is wrong with
me? Then again she's an innocent, a victim, while I… Truthfully, I no longer know what I am.
Tainted I guess. 'Are you alright?' She signs in concern.
I'm choking. A thick lump is obstructing my throat, tears I think. Why am I so close to tears? I don't
cry. I gave that up long ago. It's a useless endeavour that never accomplishes anything, remember?
So why do I feel like crying now? 'I am alright.' I sign in return, fighting against the trembling that
once again threatens to betray me.
'You sure?' She frowns, her signing a touch agitated. 'You scared me. Collapsing like that. I'm…'
Her hands pause, guilt within her gaze, guilt that tears at me because it shouldn't be there, not in her
gaze, not because of me. 'I'm sorry.'
My eyes go wide, breath catching in my throat as I rush down the rest of the stairs, only realising
I've done so when I find myself kneeling before her, clasping her hands in mine, stilling them and
her words. I do not want to hear anymore. I don't want her to say anymore. She's said enough. I hold
her hands for a moment, her hands warm beneath my cold clasp, and meet her green gaze. It really
does remind me so much of Beau. 'You didn't do anything wrong.' I sign carefully, dropping her
hands in order to do so. 'I sometimes get panic attacks. It wasn't your fault.' I use the same excuse I
used on Beau, hoping that perhaps she may believe me. It's apparent to me that she's had more than
her fair share of suffering in her life and I don't want her to hurt anymore because of me. I cannot
explain it. I just don't.
'So it wasn't something I said?' She looks uncertain, her hands, like mine, trembling with emotion.
She's once again put me on the spot. She appears to have a knack for such because I don't know
how to respond. I don't want to lie to her. For some reason, it makes me feel dirty but I know I can't
tell her the truth. I cannot tell her the true reason behind my so called panic attacks and also cannot
in all honesty tell her that it wasn't something she said because, indirectly, it was.
I'm once again saved from having to respond by a warm voice greeting me from my right. "Why,
hello there." Those three words really do seem to be the standard greeting in this household. "You
must be Beau's friend. I'm Kia Ahern." A tall young man holds his hand out towards me; his hazel
gaze filled with light amusement that I'm starting to suspect must be genetic. He raises a
questioning eyebrow in silent question, waiting for me to return his greeting.
I don't take his hand. I've had enough touching for one day thank you very much, but I do raise my
hands and sign a response. 'Dimitri. Cyr.' I add my surname as an afterthought. I'm not sure why I
add my surname. Instinct I guess. It just seems like he expects it.
He looks surprised when I sign, but something, the same deep sense that's always in charge of my
premonitions, tells me that his surprise has more to do with what I have signed than the fact that I
sign to begin with. My suspicions are unfortunately, rather quickly and abruptly confirmed. "Did
you say Cyr? Dimitri Cyr?" He now signs as he speaks, the amusement rather abruptly quelled from
his gaze, gone as if it had never been to begin with, replaced by cold hard scrutiny. "Any relation to
Shaia Cyr?"
One question, five simple words and my world is torn apart, shattered beyond recognition. Chill
courses through my veins, deeper, more encompassing than the chill that normally resides within
me, dry ice, burning me from the inside out and I know for a fact that I'm pale. The roaring winds of
a category five cyclone fill my ears destroying my perception of reality, destroying my ability to
comprehend and process what's going on and literally taking my breath away. I'm gulping, once
again fighting for air, fighting for breath and I know I can stay here no longer. I turn and run back
up the stairs, back towards Beau's room, barely even registering the fact that I run right past him, all
but run into him, in fact. Blindly grabbing my bag, I run back down, mere moments between the
upward and downward journey, and not even sparing any of the occupants of Beau's household a
glance, I run out. All the while I can feel them burning, Kia's hazel eyes burning into me, filled with
suspicion, knowledge and cold certainty. What have I just done?

No redemption for me
Did you know that you can actually taste fear? Most would believe that it would be impossible but I
know better. It's a familiar flavour to me, a thick cloying indescribable flavour upon your tongue.
It's unpalatable but I can never truly seem to rid myself of it. I'm surprised that Kia does not follow
me, doesn't chase after me because in running, I realise that I've given myself away. Did I mention
that I'm an idiot? I mean, if I had simply not reacted, stared at him blankly, he'd have no reason to
believe I know Shaia Cyr, would have no reason to believe that she's my mother, right? I mean,
Dimitri isn't an uncommon name, is it? And Cyr… Who am I trying to kid? He knows. There's no
way he could not know. Not with a question like that directed at me. My life is over.
My feet carry me blindly to the place in which I reside, my heart desperately seeking oblivion,
escape from the nightmares that dog my heels, only there is no escape. There never was and never
will be and now we shall be made to atone for the darkness of our sin, both I and my father. The
time of reckoning has arrived, I guess. I'm breaking, my soul is splintering, sharp shards of glass
tearing me apart from the inside out, wounding me, reopening deep wounds that, although ignored,
never truly stopped bleeding… not on the inside. I need to escape. I need to flee this place. There's
nothing left for me, nothing but hell and consequence.
Running into my rather bare room, I grab a backpack and haphazardly begin to throw things into it.
I need clothes and money. As for the rest? I'll worry about it later. I can't stay here. I can no longer
remain here, in this place that has ruined me so. My defences are gone, shattered into millions of
pieces to small to see let alone pick up. I can no longer remain here, this place that pulls the
darkness of the secret I hold from me and asks that I atone for all that I've done. Finally packed I
sling the backpack onto my shoulder and run back down the stairs with only one thought in mind.
Escape. It's amazing how focused your mind can truly be when all it can think of is flight. I read
somewhere that it has something to do with hormones, adrenaline, pumped into your blood when
survival is foremost upon you mind.
I don't make it very far. Murphy does have it in for me after all and letting me escape this would
obviously be an insult to his, oh so, giving nature. All this effort, just for me? Ruining my life on
such a grand scale must take a lot of work, after all. In my haste to escape I rip the door open, none
too graciously I might add, only to have my way barred by Beau. "What did my brother say to you?
What's going on here? Why does he want to talk to you?" Beau demands, grabbing my arm and
dragging me right back into the place I am so desperately trying to escape.
I tense, I cannot help it, I tense and bare my teeth at him, madness in my gaze. I truly cannot help it.
I'm trapped. Cornered. He's denying me my escape and the adrenaline within my blood overpowers
my common sense. I'm not thinking straight. Hell, I'd be surprised if I'm thinking at all. So I bare
my teeth at him and come this close to actually snarling at him. Now if this were a visual story this
is where you would see me lift my hand and press two of my fingers together, showing you how far
I'm away from losing it completely, which, considering my fingers are actually pressed together, is
not far at all!
His eyes narrow, finally seeming to notice the backpack upon my back, my clothes still half hanging
out of it. What? I am trying to run here! Zipping the bag up is the last thing on my mind right now!
"There's no way I'm letting you run away from this." He suddenly snarls, his face paling, twisting
up in shock, horror and dread. The look doesn't suit him, yet here I am, once again seeing a side to
Beau I never thought I would see. Taking advantage of my shock (yes, I'm shocked by his
uncharacteristic reaction), he grabs my arm and drags me towards my father's living room, flicking
on the light switch, barely even sparing me a glance. Turning he pulls me, towards him then
abruptly changes direction and throws me onto the sofa. When I say throws, I mean it. My body
rebounds off of it before settling down and my arm feels as if it may just have been dislocated from
my shoulder. "What have you done?" He demands hoarsely, his eyes filled with anger, beneath
which lies fear and dread.
I don't respond. What can I say? I can't lie because he won't accept that and I certainly can't tell him
the truth. I cannot release the secret I hold. It would damn me. He will kill me if I do but that is not
the real reason I can't tell him. No, the real reason is far more selfish. If I tell Beau his eyes will fill
with hate, loathing and disgust. It will be directed at me and for some reason I cannot bear the
thought of seeing him look at me like that. "What did you do, Dimitri?" His voice is rising, the
panic, hysteria he feels audible to even me. "Why does my brother want to talk to you? Damn it,
Dimitri! Say something! Why is my brother calling headquarters?!" Beau looks shell shocked,
devastated. So much so that he's trembling as he paces the room before me. Wait a minute. Isn't that
supposed to be me? What right does he have to be hysterical when all of this is happening to me?
'Go away! It's none of your business' I sign, suddenly angry. What right does he have to just barge
into my home and demand answers from me. Better yet, what right does he have to just barge into
my life and ruin it? All of this, every single thing that has happened to me since meeting him is his
fault. If not for him, I wouldn't be having this crisis right now. So again I ask: what right does he
have to demand anything of me?!
What the… Ever have one of those moments where you're convinced your brain must be
malfunctioning, where one moment one truth holds and the next something else entirely holds true
and you have no idea what happened in between? That's what I appear to be experiencing right now.
One minute, Beau is pacing back and forth before me, demanding answers he has no right to
demand and the next instant he has me pinned to the sofa, my arms above my head and his lips
upon mine. He's kissing me! What the… How can he be kissing me? Beau is kissing me and he's
good at it! Wait a minute… I'm not gay!
Before I'm given a chance to react, he withdraws leaping off of me as if burnt, looking every bit as
horrified as I feel. That did not just happen. Please tell me that that did not just happen! I didn't just
get kissed by Beau. I didn't just think he was good at it! I can't deal with this. "Dimitri…. I… I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to… I mean… I'm not… I'm not gay… Dimitri, I, I…" Beau's voice is
trembling, shame and shock within his gaze. He looks like I feel, about ready to flee. In case you've
not noticed, I'm all for running. Run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me 'cause I'm the
gingerbread man. Okay, it's official, insanity is contagious.
Rage and anger mix with the confusion and fear within me. I grab hold of my anger. It's the simplest
of all my emotions thus far and at least partially justified, don't you think? There is no way I'm
going to let him get away with telling me that he's not gay when it was him that kissed me! There is
no way that I'm taking the blame for that. No way! There's enough blame at my door already,
without Beau adding to it and I'm about to tell him so, about to give him a piece of my mind when
Murphy (I really do hate him) decides to once again ruin my plans. "Kia." The word escapes Beau
on a shocked breath, his eyes wide, filled with fear and uncertainty. I'm doomed. I can no longer
escape. I do not turn. I don't need to turn. Beau's word, though whispered on but a breath,
effectively manages to freeze me in place, my mind too filled with the horror of the events
unfolding before me to truly function anymore. Kia knows. He knows something about my mother
and he intends to confront me about it.
I sit up, shifting to the corner of the sofa and curl in on myself, trying to make myself as small as
possible as I await the inevitable. Maybe it'll hurt less that way. Maybe, I can just disappear. Maybe
it will all go away. Yeah right, and maybe I'll talk, and laugh and live happily ever after. Please
insert a derisive snort of disbelief here. Kia seats himself across from me, looking me with that all
knowing hazel gaze of his, searching me. Did I mention that I'm convinced that is an Ahern family
trait? Never mind… He's looking at me, his gaze hard and determined and I know; I just know
there's no escaping this. Beau shifts beneath that gaze, his own flickering from his brother, to me
and back to his brother again before seating himself beside me, almost as if silently deciding which
side he's going to be on. Little does he know.
Kia throws something onto the table and my breath catches in my throat. Oh hell. He's from the
FBI! I'm sooooo screwed. "We've been searching for you and your father for the last six months."
He starts, obviously cutting straight to the chase. "We wanted to tell you that we found your
mother." I remain still, staring dully at the identification before me. He's from the FBI. He is from
the Federal Bureau of Investigation and he's just found me! Did I mention that I am screwed? Hold
on a second. My gaze shoots up to meet his, his words finally registering upon my dulled mind.
They found my mother. Oh shit, they found my mother! He knows! I can't breathe.
"We thought you might want to know seeing as it was your father that reported her missing ten
years ago, wasn't it." He continues in a conversational tone, all while watching me closely. He
knows what he's doing to me. I can see it in his gaze and he willingly continues to do it anyway.
"She's dead, but then again I suspect you already know that as we found her body buried in the
basement of your old home." He pauses, watching as I begin to hyperventilate. Not now, please, not
now, I can't afford to have a panic attack now, not in front of him. Why can I not breathe? "Cut up
into little pieces." I think I'm going to die. His calm words are tearing me apart. I can see it in my
mind… the blood… the death… the nightmare that haunts me every minute of every hour of every
day.
"Interesting thing is, during our attempts to track you down, we managed to unearth a few more
interesting, or shall I say strange coincidences?" Here he pulls out a bunch of papers, sliding them
towards me. Five pictures, five photographs of smiling women printed upon paper, five familiar
faces staring up at me, their gaze filled with accusation and betrayal. I've betrayed them all. "I'm
sure you recognise these young ladies." He continues, calmly, almost as if he were talking about the
weather and not in fact tearing my very soul apart. "All were married to your father. All are either
dead or missing. Don't you find that strange?"
Beau gasps, tensing beside me. I can feel it, the horror radiating off of him in waves and all too
soon he's upon his feet, glaring at his brother in anger. "You're not accusing Dimitri of killing his
mother are you?!" He exclaims, the horror audible in his tone. "If it was ten years ago he'd have to
have been about six at the time! And the rest, the rest…" Beau chokes as he sweeps his hand over
the table, gesturing to the five pictures that keep staring at me with hate and accusation. "He can't
have anything to do with it! Dimitri would never do anything like that!"
I appreciate his defence of me. Really I do, but he has no idea what he's talking about because I do
have something to do with it. I have something to do with every single one of them. I can still
remember the blood, the begging, the pleading, the desperation of cornered prey and most of all I
can still hear their dying screams echoing through my ears. I know where each and every one of
them is. I know how each and every one of them died and I know who did it. I can't breathe, my
chest aches and I think I'm about to die. I can't escape. There's no redemption for me. I don't deserve
it so I guess it's a fitting end for me. The last thing I hear as I feel myself fall, my body limp, my
mind slipping into darkness, is the sound of Beau's voice from a distance begging me to breathe.

Given voice
Distortion. Where everything is altered, lacking its true definition and form, where things are
misrepresented and nothing is truly as it seems. I cannot think of a better word to describe my life
right now. Everything seems like a dream, a nightmare I can't seem to wake from, a reality I'm
unwilling to accept. It took me years to accept the secret I've been burdened with, years to accept
the loss of my voice. I know what you're thinking. I'm mute by choice so why would I need to
accept the loss of my voice? It's complicated. Sometimes the choices we make are forced upon us
and sometimes it's simply a case of choosing the lesser of two evils. I feel lost, adrift, with nowhere
left to go. My secret, the very thing that's defined me for the past ten years, has been torn from me,
ripping my soul apart and so my reality is distorted.
I hear sound, muffled voices exchanging what should be words. I should understand words,
comprehend their meaning, but for some reason, I'm struggling to focus. I'm adrift, lost, lacking
definition. My very existence has become distorted. I've lost that which defines me all because of
Beau. Wait…Beau. Reality rushes in on me, tearing me away from the lack of distinction I long for.
All of a sudden I can hear his voice, his words ringing through my mind. He's angry, his words are
sharp but for some reason, a reason I can't comprehend, not directed at me. "He was six at the time,
Kia! For crying out loud, he's only sixteen now! You can't expect me to believe he's some kind of
serial killer!"
"I'm not saying he killed them, Beau." Kia's voice is calm, in stark contradiction to the anger,
frustration and heat that I can hear within Beau's. Oh, how I hate that calm voice, that calm voice
that has torn me apart without so much as a by your leave. Go figure. "I'm saying he knows
something. He may have seen something, heard something." You think? And how long did it take
you to figure that one out, smartass? Was it when I ran from your home, or maybe when I turned
white as a sheet? I know! It must have been when I stopped breathing and passed out. Don't look at
me like that. He's ruining my life!
"He was six, Kia, six! Do you have any idea what something like that could do to a six year old
child if what you're implying is true?" Ouch, the anger and rage in Beau's voice makes even me feel
sorry for Kia.
"Yes I do." Kia states softly. "I'm well aware what it can do. It can break a person and I think it
already has. Just look at him, Beau. He's nothing but a shell. I know you're attracted to him, but just
look at him, would you? There is no life in him. He's simply existing. He's not even functioning
normally. He obviously suffers from severe panic attacks and is unable to even communicate
properly from what I can see."
"Get out." Beau's voice is soft, barely above a whisper but it still manages to convey the depth of
his rage. It sends chills down my spine and I think I would have preferred it if he had screamed
instead. He's furious, angry on my behalf and I don't truly understand why. Kia is right. I am dead,
or at least as good as dead. There's nothing within me worth saving, so why is Beau so angry?
"Beau." Kia starts, obviously trying to be rational, trying to calm his brother down.
Beau, however, gives him no quarter, his tone hard. It hurts me to hear his usually cheerful voice
sound so desolate, as cold and empty as an arctic storm. "Get out." He repeats. "Get the hell out
before I throw you out!" He's hurting. Beau is hurting and it's my fault. I hear a soft rustle, followed
by light footsteps heading away from me. For but a moment everything is silent. Time, space and
reality are for but a moment suspended.
And then it shatters. I didn't think it would be possible but my world shatters all over again. Beau is
crying. He's clutching me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair and crying. His tears are
not vocal, his hastened breath the only betraying factor to their presence but his body is trembling,
shaking with sobs that I can feel reverberate through him. Why is he crying?
He's kissing me again, dropping feather light kisses upon my forehead and into my hair, his tears
soaking into my skin. "I'm sorry Dimitri." He whispers, the anguish in his voice hurting more than
anything that has ever come before. He shouldn't hurt. He should not experience this kind of pain
because of me. Beau should be laughing, teasing, flirting, not crying or grieving and certainly not
because of me. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry Dimitri. No one should live through
something like that." He's now rocking me, back and forth, my body clutched against his chest. He's
warm… so warm, his arms around me strong. He makes me feel protected.
"I… I… I can't do this…" His hands are trembling violently as he continues to run them through my
hair, brushing my hair out of my face, touching me over and over again, almost as if seeking
confirmation of my very existence. "I can't fall for you. I can't do this Dimitri. Please understand. I
can't do this, not again." He sounds so broken, as broken as I feel and I ache to hear it. His words,
his pain echo my own only they hold a different meaning. Strange, how the same words can be used
to describe things that vary so. What does he mean by not again? He's not known me all that long.
What does he mean he can't fall for me? Does he mean he can't fall for me as in Dimitri or me as in
a boy? I'm not gay. I thought that was already established, so why is he apologising to me? Does
this mean? My breath hitches in my throat, a slight imperceptible movement in the grand scheme of
life but signifying a revelation that shakes me to the core. Does this mean that Beau's previously
fallen for a boy? Beau can't be gay. He's a jock for crying out loud and jocks simply are not gay!
Gay bashers, maybe, but gay? Hell no! He even told me he's not gay! But something, some sense
deep inside me insists that I'm not wrong.
I open my eyes, my own empty gaze meeting the sheer anguish in Beau's deep green. I'm looking
for something in his eyes, confirmation of sorts. I'm desperate to know the secret that hides behind
that gaze, that secret that seems to have broken him almost as much as mine has broken me. His
secret, however, is as evasive to me as the concept of happiness. Yet his grief, the anguish he feels is
as clear as daylight.
I reach out towards him, unable to help myself and brush my thumb over his cheek, capturing one
of his tears upon it, silently offering him what little comfort, broken as I am, I may be able to
provide. It's a simple touch yet to me it means so much. It's a turning point. I'm reaching out. I, as in
Dimitri, am willingly, as in of my own violation; reaching out to someone. That simple brush of my
thumb across his cheek triggers what follows.
He's kissing me. Again! One moment I'm reaching up towards him, trying to brush his tears away
and the next his lips are pressed to mine, salty and moist with tears, his tongue thrusting into my
mouth and I… I'm weaving my fingers through his hair and allowing him full access to my mouth,
encouraging him, drawing his tongue into my mouth, desperately seeking the heat he offers. Don't
get me wrong. I'm not gay. We've already established that I'm sexually deficient after all but I
cannot resist the heat, flowing through my body and replacing the chill I've gotten accustomed to.
I don't know how long we remain like that, his lips locked upon mine, his tongue invading my
mouth and the heat of his touch coursing through me. Oh the sweet, sweet heat. I could quickly get
addicted to him for that heat alone. I want more of that heat, on me, within me, encompassing me
till I cannot help but lose myself within in and so, I draw closer, draw his tongue further into my
mouth until that is not longer enough to quench the hunger within me drawing a desperate whimper
from my throat.
A whimper. That is all it takes to once again shake the foundations of everything that defines me,
tearing the heat I so longed to drown myself within away from me. I don't know which of us it was
that withdrew first, me or him, because honestly, it could've been either. He's staring down at me,
his green gaze no longer marked by tears, anguish and grief, instead filled with shock and a few last
traces of lust. Mine have to be filled with pure and unadulterated horror. What have I done?
"You have a voice?" Beau chokes on his words, his breath still rapid; his voice still thick with
passion yet clearly marked by disbelief. "Dimitri. You have a… voice?" He's lifting me, drawing me
up and into his lap, turning me, tilting my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze when I so
desperately want to avoid it. "You can talk?" His voice is but a whisper, still filled with disbelief,
touched by awe. "Dimitri." He becomes insistent, drawing my gaze back to his when I allow it to
drift away in an attempt to shut him out, trying to shut out all that's happening to me so that I may
withdraw into the nothingness within me but he will not let me. From the moment I met him and
heard his voice, my sanctuary, that place of non existence I worked so hard to establish, has been
denied me and all because of Beau! "Dimitri can you talk?"
I'm unable to draw away, drawn to him from the moment I met him. I guess it was inevitable, the
loss of my defences, my secret and my breakdown. All of it was inevitable from the moment I met
him and so too is this inevitable. 'I don't know.' I sign in admission. 'I have not tried since I was six.'

A natural charmer
Beau's looking me, giving me definition. I don't want definition. I don't want to exist because
frankly, the world is better off without me. He's better off without me. I do not understand him. The
complexity of his words and actions truly baffle me. He keeps butting into my life, breaking
defences I spent years on, drawing reactions from me, reactions I never thought I was capable of.
Then he kisses me, for no apparent reason that I can see. Why would anyone want to kiss me?
Once! Let alone twice! He tells me he's not gay, tells me he can't fall for me and then proceeds to
kiss me senseless. How does that work? Last I checked I'm very much male!
But that's besides the point I guess. Beau has drawn my voice from me. A voice I have not heard in
ten years and he's now looking at me. He's waiting for something, something I fear I cannot give.
He knows. He's making the connections between my admission and Kia's accusations and he now
knows. I can see it in his eyes, eyes that refuse to let me look away, a gaze that simply does not let
me be. "What's going on here?" A voice breaks into the silence that has settled upon Beau and me.
It's an unwelcome voice that instils fear within me, my father's voice. Strange, isn't it? How
something as simple as a voice can disrupt my life so. I'm drugged, Beau has drugged my mind
because, as much as I hate and fear that voice, it still takes a few moments to truly register allowing
reality to come crashing right back in.
Oh hell! I'm in Beau's lap and my father has just walked in on us! Shit! Shit! Shit! Panic and terror
instigate motion. I need to get away. I have to move! Get out of his lap! Get away from him. Alas,
such is not to be, for Murphy, the bane of my existence of late, now has a face, a corporeal existence
defined by sparkling green eyes framed by purple and pink streaks. I feel my body jerk, my retreat
halted by a firm grasp upon my wrists, warm touch that gives me no quarter gently imprisoning me
and perhaps taking me to my doom.
"Hi. I'm Beau." Beau's voice is light, casual and cheerful, carefully hiding the intensity of all that's
just happened. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn he had not a care in the world. I envy his
ability to pretend, envy the easy way in which he seems to be handling this situation. "I'm your next
door neighbour. I came here to fetch Dimitri because we have to work on a project that's due
tomorrow but he fell. I think he hit his head and I'm just making sure he's alright. He was a bit
woozy there for a moment." Beau is grinning at my father! Am I the only one that sees a problem
with this entire scenario? "But it seems he's alright now." I'm moving, or more specifically, I'm
being moved. Beau is standing, lifting me off his lap and settling me down onto the ground. And all
this time he's smiling at my father as if the entire situation is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.
"I hope it's alright if he spends the night. It's a big project and we haven't managed to make all that
much progress. It'd be alright with you, wouldn't it? I mean, it's only next door right Mr Cyr? Mrs
Cyr?"
Wait a minute. Mrs Cyr?! I turn, my body whipping around with a speed I didn't know I possessed,
horror deep in my chest. No, please no, please don't tell me that he has already married another...
that it is going to start all over again. Please, not now, not when I have nothing to hide behind, no
defences to shelter me from the pain and the horror. I see my father, standing at the door and beside
him is Beth.
Oh no… please no… please not her. My body is tensing, my breath catching in the back of my
throat and darkness flickers at the corner of my sight. I can feel it coming… another panic attack,
another breakdown. Please, I don't want him to have married her. Please, not yet because if he has…
if he has that means… Warmth, mixed with a touch of dull pain, encompasses me once more tearing
me away from the darkness that threatens to overwhelm me and bringing me back to reality. I'm
pressed tightly against Beau's side, the warmth of his skin easing the chill that has once more
invaded my body. My hand is tightly clenched within his, in a death grip that turns even his
knuckles white. That's where the pain is coming from and I'm grateful for it because it has rooted
me to reality once more and prevented me from doing something stupid in my father's presence.
"Oh, no. This isn't Mrs Cyr." My father's voice is warm. It's so easy for him to pretend. Always has
been. He even chuckles. "Not yet, but hopefully that's a situation that shall be soon remedied." His
voice is light and flirtatious drawing a shy giggle from Beth. A natural charmer. It's how I've heard
my father described by those that meet him for the first time. It's so easy for him to deceive those
around him, hiding the demon that resides within. Few have seen that demon and of those few, only
one still breathes… Me. Come to think of it. Why am I still alive? Why hasn't he killed me yet? Oh
yeah, it's because I'm tainted. The same tainted blood runs through my veins, the same darkness, the
same nightmare and the same evil. "But if Dimitri's hurt himself I don't think it's a good idea for
him to go." He frowns at me, the expression picture perfect. A concerned father worried about his
son.
"I wouldn't worry, Mr Cyr." Beau continues to smile, relaxing his grip upon my hand when he
realises that I'm no longer on the verge of passing out once more. "He appears to be fine now, right
Dimitri?" His expression is casual, light humour upon his face, but his eyes are touched by shadow
telling me that he's not as unaffected by all of this as he appears to be. He's silently pleading with
me to play along. It's a plea I give in to. I nod at my father, trying to pull my lips into a reassuring
smile. I fail miserably because it feels more like a grimace than a smile. Beau winces upon seeing it.
"The project's really important, Mr Cyr. It accounts for half our grade and I really would like
Dimitri to stay over. Please, Mr Cyr. My mother's worried about what she perceives to be my lack
of friends and she really likes him. If anything happens I promise to come get you. It's only next
door, one house over, you know and it won't take me more than five minutes to get you."
"I don't know." My father sounds a touch reluctant, glancing at me in what to a casual observer
would appear to be concern. Ha, concern my ass, my father has not concerned himself with me a
single day in his life.
"Come on, honey. I'm sure it'll be alright." Beth intervenes, weaving her hand into my father's and
looking up at him with adoration in her gaze. It pains me to the core to see her expression, because
it's filled with innocence and happiness that I know will not last. It's a look that will die, to be
momentarily replaced by terror, realisation and horror and then... then it will be empty, glassy and
blank… lifeless. "I don't see how it could cause any harm. They're going to do homework, after all.
Dimitri looks fine and Beau looks like a nice boy."
My father smiles at her and drops a light kiss onto her forehead before speaking softly. "I don't
know, Beth. I really would like my son at home so he can spend some time with you, after all."
She giggles again and wraps her arms around my father's waist, resting her head lightly upon his
chest. "There'll be more than enough time for us to spend together. I'm moving in, after all. A
teenage boy needs his friends. Please, let him go. He'll be back tomorrow." This is not happening.
This cannot be happening to me. Not again, please, not again. Three words, three little words are all
I manage to register. My world is closing in on me and there's nothing Beau can do to help me now.
No amount of physical pain will be able to tear me from the pain that is now tearing me apart from
the inside out. She's moving in. It's beginning all over again and there's no escape, no redemption
for me. There never was.
I'm moving once again, drifting upon the sea of black that welcomes me like a long lost friend, a
frigid cold sea that reaches out towards me embracing me in familiar chill, promising to dull my
pain by making me numb to it and to everything that exists around me. It's a familiar chill I long to
drown myself in but he will not let me. It remains incomplete, for fighting that chill is a burning
heat radiating from his touch upon me, denying me the complete oblivion and escape I now so
desperately seek. Denying me, Beau's always denying me.
My existence remains, refusing to submit to the hunger of the darkness, that seeks to consume all of
me and so, denied what it longs for, the sea of darkness begins to withdraw from me, leaving me,
tearing a whimper of pain from my throat. My sanctuary, the oblivion I have mastered is
abandoning me, betraying me, leaving me bare and naked to all the pain that threatens to overpower
me, leaving me open and vulnerable with no defence. I'm moving, cool caress upon my skin,
burning touch upon my hand and gentle breeze within my hair. I'm thrust back into the reality of the
world around me once more. I'm running down my driveway, surrounded by stars, Beau before me,
smiling at me, my hand cradled in his and the world alive around me. I'm moving, drawn ever
forward by Beau and his persistence. I am alive.

Spending the night

It takes a while for me to realise that the darkness that surrounds me is in actual fact the night sky
and the chill upon my skin, the night breeze and even longer to realise that I'm no longer in the
house that my father has bought with blood money. The realisation sends terror through me, the
emotion threatening to consume me. I'm out the house. What am I doing out of the house when my
father has yet to give me permission to go?
I skid to a halt, jerking back in an attempt to get Beau to release me, thus rather effectively halting
our forward momentum. Beau stumbles to a halt, nearly losing his balance before turning to look at
me in question. I'm panting, my breath short, stuttered and painful. I'm terrified of what my father is
going to do to me for daring to leave the house without his permission, terrified of what may
happen to Beth and dreading what's going to happen when my father finds out that the FBI have
spoken to me. A heavy weight threatens to crush me, inflicted by emotion alone. It makes it difficult
to breath and the lack of oxygen is making it difficult to think clearly.
I can't do anything about Beth, about Kia or the FBI but I can do something about this. 'I can't.' I
sign, shaking my head, cursing the betrayal of my body, overcome by violent tremors that grant me
no refuge. 'I can't go. Not when he didn't let me.'
Beau's confusion only seems to deepen with my words, a puzzled frown upon his forehead. "What
do you mean he didn't let you? Dimitri?" He's reaching out to me, in order to touch me and I can't
help but flinch causing him to withdraw.
I dread his touch and the effect it has upon my emotions. His touch confuses me and makes it
difficult for me sort my emotions and thoughts out. I don't need that right now. I need him to
understand that I can't leave without my father's permission. 'I can't go.' I sign the words again. 'I
can't go when my father hasn't given me permission to go.'
"Dimitri…" He reaches out towards me again, his fingers barely brushing across my skin as they
brush stray strands of hair out of my face grabbing my attention. He ensures that he has it before
speaking once again. "It's okay. He said yes. Your father said it's alright if you come over as long as
I call him should anything happen."
I stare at him in disbelief, for a moment unable to comprehend his words and their meaning. 'He
said yes?' I sign uncertainly, needing confirmation. I know what he said. I heard what he said! I just
want him to say it again. I want to confirm that it's alright because I certainly do not recall hearing
my father say yes, but then again… I was in the middle of a panic attack.
"Yes, Dimitri." His touch is no longer light but firm and sure upon my skin, the heat of his skin
warming the chill in mine, a chill that is a result of the combination of my emotional upheaval and
the cool evening air. I like it, the touch of his skin upon mine, the velvety heat and the sure
comforting touch. I'm quickly becoming addicted to that touch and it's not a good thing. I cannot
afford to get attached to Beau. Not now that Kia knows my secret. Not now that my life is falling
into ruin.
"Your father said it's alright. I was able to get you out before he noticed… before he heard." He's
comforting me, running his fingers through my hair, across my cheek, my forehead and my brows. I
understand exactly what he's telling me. He got me out of the house before my father managed to
notice my withdrawal, before he heard the stray whimper that had yet again been torn from me and
for that I'm grateful.
His touch abandons my face, draws away from me, and he holds his hand out towards me in silent
question, for once, actually giving me the choice to go with him. Choice, free will, something as
foreign to me as the surge of emotions that I seem to have recently discovered. He's letting me
choose. I stand, still and silent, the breeze playing with my hair and the moment seems surreal,
possessing almost a dream like quality about it. I think this is the most peace, the most freedom I've
been offered since the day my nightmare began ten years ago and consequently, it feels unreal. For
once in my life I'm in control of what happens next and I need a moment to truly comprehend the
implication of that.
He waits, unmoving, willing to give me all the time I need, patiently waiting for either acceptance
or rejection. You have to respect that, respect the way he's willing to wait for me and willing to open
himself up to possible rejection in order to give me back a sliver of control. It's his willingness to
give me control that makes my mind up for me.
Carefully, willingly meeting his gaze, I reach for him and the comfort he's offering to me. Heat, oh
that sweet addictive heat… it's too late, I'm already addicted, lost because that simple touch. His
simple offer of control and my single decision to reach out have changed me. I feel something and
after being dead for so long, after reliving my nightmare over and over again, the small twinge of
happiness that courses through me is strange, heady and addictive as a drug.
***
I'm once again in Beau's room and my perception of this room seems to have changed. Yes, it's still
incredibly neat, still simplistic yet luxurious and still seems to lack any signs of the sports fanatic
Beau seems to portray at school but now it seems welcoming, warm… a true sanctuary. Very
different from the cold dark sanctuary I've known for so long. It gives new meaning to the very
word and gives me new understanding of the concept. I don't know why. Please don't ask me to
explain this but something within me has changed.
Beau's mother welcomed me back without even blinking an eye, wrapping me in a warm embrace
and telling me that I'm more than welcome to stay the night. Strangely enough, she doesn't judge me
for my earlier behaviour and instead shows concern for my well being. Layla lifted her arms
towards me offering me a shy smile when her mother finally withdrew from me, clearly offering me
another embrace. I didn't want the first embrace to begin with but I couldn't refuse Layla, and so,
bending down I awkwardly returned her embrace before withdrawing and signing an apology to her,
which she promptly brushed off.
Fortunately, I didn't have to remain downstairs. As much as I'm beginning to like both Layla and
Beau's mother, I don't think I would've been able to survive that. Kia's there and the entire time that
I was in his presence he watched at me. The way he looks at me is vastly different to the way Beau
looks and me, and I doubt I'd survive an evening being scrutinized by him.
Beau has taken me up to his room and offered me supper. I refused. The very idea of food ties my
stomach up in knots. It seems that Beau is like minded because he never did go downstairs to fetch
the supper his mother promised us, not even for himself. Instead, he seated himself upon his bed
across from me. "So, do you think you're ready to try?" He asks, the question coming at me
completely out of the blue. What on earth is he talking about?
'Try?' I sign in confusion, sincerely hoping he'll clarify the matter. Too much has happened to me
recently for me to keep up and he'll just have to deal with it. I mean, if current events are to be
believed I've become Murphy's sole victim. How else would he have enough time to pile so much
misfortune upon a single person?
"To speak." Beau gestures at my throat. "So do you think you might be ready to try?"
'No!' I gesture violently in return. There is no way, absolutely no way that I'm willing to try to
speak. I can't. Is he insane? A lunatic? Crazy? Loco? Should I really go on with the synonyms? Oh,
I know that we've already established the fact that he's not exactly sane but to be this far gone? Does
he not understand? It's not that simple. My voice is an abomination and there is no way that I'm
freeing it from the prison I have willingly inflicted upon it.
"Please Dimitri." He's pleading with me and he's touching me, his fingers gentle upon my skin,
trailing down my jaw and to my throat, brushing over my Adams apple and down to settle in the
hollow situated between my collar bones. "I want to hear your voice." His voice is a whisper filled
with awe and anticipation. I can see it in his face. He really does wants to hear my voice.
My chest aches at the plea in his voice, the desperate longing he can't quite hide, his gaze now
locked upon my throat, staring it intently as if the very look itself would be enough to make me
speak. It isn't. I can't allow it to be. I just cannot speak. I will not. I should not. I really shouldn't
even be contemplating this. His gentle touch, soft upon my skin is distracting me, his gaze, the
pleading in his voice is breaking me down and suddenly, for Beau, I desperately want to try.
I part my lips, my throat dry and inhale slowly. My breath is shaky, shallow and more than a touch
unstable. I can't believe that I'm about to do this after ten years of silence. I can feel my body begin
to tremble and tense my muscles in a desperate attempt to hide it. I fail miserably but that doesn't
stop me from trying. I allow myself to exhale, drawing out the inevitable moment, trying to ready
myself for something I'll never be ready for. Not even with an eternity of preparation. Taking a deep
breath I gather together every last scrap of courage I possess and… nothing. Absolutely nothing
escapes my lips. Not a sound.
Terror courses through my veins and my eyes go wide. I can't accept this. It hurts. I've lost my voice
and will never be able to speak again. I know I don't want to speak. I know I never intended to free
my voice once again but that was different. It's easier to bear knowing it's a choice I make, knowing
that I may one day be able to speak again, but this… knowing my voice is gone… it's tearing me
apart. I don't want to accept my silence if it's forced upon me.
I gasp, my breath panicked, gathering air into my lungs and forcing it out again in a desperate
attempt to force sound to escape my throat. Over and over again I try, swallowing, gasping, and
breathing in large gulps of air, each attempt only to end in failure. I'm trembling, the violent
shudders too strong to hide and I no longer care to. What does it matter anyway, my voice is gone
and there truly is no redemption for me.
Suddenly, I'm encased in his arms, Beau's gentle words surrounding me, soothing me, reaching out
towards me as only his voice can. "Shh. It's alright. Dimitri, it's alright. You can stop now. It's okay.
Give it time. We'll take it slow. One step at a time, okay? It's alright, I don't mind. Breathe. It'll
come. You still have your voice. We heard it. Don't worry, it'll come in time." His words are gentle,
nonsensical, filled with acceptance, giving me hope. He hasn't given up. He still believes that I may
one day speak and it's a belief that I leap upon because I simply cannot accept the alternative.
My breath begins to calm as I allow my panicked gasps to die, giving up on speech for now. He's
right. I do still have my voice. If I did not, I would've been unable to whimper, unable to make a
sound and I have. I've made a sound so maybe one day that sound may be a word. I wonder which
word it will be. I feel the panic flow away leaving me drained and limp within Beau's arms. I'm
exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically and don't think I'll be able to take anymore. Not
tonight. I can feel oblivion calling out to me. No, not the oblivion of non existence, but the oblivion
of sleep and rest and I long to succumb to its call.
Beau seems to sense my wavering concentration because he pulls away, meeting my sleepy gaze
with a searching one of his own. "Better?" He enquires softly, his eyes tracing their way over my
features to check for himself. I blink at him sleepily and nod, too tired to actually sign a response,
too tired and hurting too much inside to care. "Okay, give me a minute." And then he's gone, no
longer on the bed with me. I simply remain where I am, lost in emptiness and a dull throbbing pain,
staring blankly ahead. Technically I don't think I see anything at all. My eyes are open but my brain
is weary and too exhausted to truly register anything anymore. Not sight, nor sound, nor anything
else… until Beau returns that is. Beau has a strange gift, able to draw my attention to him against all
odds so I register his presence when he returns, my sleepy gaze momentarily coming into focus,
focusing enough to realise that he's holding out clothes to me. "Pyjama." He explains, picking up on
my weary confusion.
My eyes go wide in sudden realisation, flickering to the dark blue silk and then back to Beau again.
I can't believe that I left my pyjama at home! I came here to sleep over without pyjamas. Come to
think of it, what about my bag? All my school supplies are in there. Suddenly frantic once more I
slip off the bed and head for the door, only to be once again captured, Beau's grasp upon my wrist.
"Dimitri, what's wrong? Where're you going?" He enquires.
'My bag.' I sign frantically. I need my bag. I don't want to go back there but I need my bag. I can't
go to school without it. I barely finish signing my response before moving once again, desperately
tugging at my entrapped wrist hoping he'll get the hint and release me. Alas, such is not to be. I'm
not even surprised. With the way my life's been disrupted of late, I would've been surprised if he
had released me. No, instead of releasing me, he pulls, a firm rather assertive tug in his direction,
and I'm once again upon the bed, upon his lap… within his arms.
"It's right over there." He points to the right. "I grabbed it before dragging you out." My eyes follow
to settle upon a bag, carefully placed beside the bed. It's mine, safe and sound and within reach.
Thank God. Oh, thank God. I don't have to return there. At least not tonight. 'Thank you.' I sign,
turning to Beau, my body betraying me once again, because I am trembling only this time it's from
relief and not from shock and distress.
"Alright." Beau breaks the silence that settles between us, the tension in the air dissipating. Tension
I only just noticed, now that it's gone. Amazing, isn't it, how sometimes we'll only notice something
once it's no longer there. He's lifting me off of his lap, and dragging me off once more. Where's he
taking me now? Why can't I keep up with him, his changing moods and his rather abrupt actions,
ever shifting into directions that remain incomprehensible to me. Now, he's halting, pushing,
dropping soft material into my arms and the next moment, with a cheeky smile upon his lips, he
closes a door in my face.
I'm shell shocked and stare blankly at the white door before me. I really don't know how to react,
what to do, what to think or feel. See what Beau does to me, why I can't understand him and why I
can't fight him off? I don't want him near me yet at the same time long for him. He turns me upside
down and inside out while taking me into a new reality and just when I begin to figure him out, he
changes. I jump when I hear a light knock upon the door, tearing me from my thoughts. "Aren't you
going to shower?" His voice is filled with amusement and a light chuckle drifts into the bathroom.
Wait a minute, I'm in a bathroom? So that's what he was up to! Now I feel stupid. I flush, my skin
coloured in embarrassment as I run my eyes across the bathroom, actually registering my
surroundings now that they make sense to me. I'm grateful that he can't see me, that he can't read
my mind and with that realisation I leap into action, discarding the clothes, both mine and Beau's.
No, I'm referring to the pyjamas in my hands and not the clothes upon him so you can get your
mind out of that gutter. Thank you very much. If you recall, he's not even in here with me and don't
you dare say that that's a situation which can be readily remedied. We're not going there.
***
Beau's eyes are still filled with amusement when I return to his bedroom, now officially showered
and dressed only I suspect it's more a case of his amusement being renewed. I mean he can't still be
laughing about my bathroom mix-up, can he? And how did he figure out that I was confused
anyway? Was I really spaced out for that long? Okay, okay, I get it, I'm rambling again. I thought
you'd be used to it by now. Anyway back to the issue at hand. I suspect he's laughing at me all over
again. I look utterly ridiculous in the pyjama's he has borrowed to me. I'm practically drowning in
them, walking on the pants and the sleeves hiding my hands. I know he's bigger than I am, but come
on! I honestly didn't think that the difference was all that much. Guess I should think again.
He pats the bed beside him, silently asking me to join him and I do. Don't look at me like that. I've
had a long and trying day and am tired. I do however make sure that there's space between us as I
sit. I'm exhausted, drained and weary of what his touch does to me, so I need that space to breath.
"Go to sleep." He tells me softly, allowing me the space I've created between us and for that I'm
grateful, only… I can't. I cannot go to sleep yet. I've come here for a reason.
'What about the project?' I sign sleepily, my body already weary at the thought of standing and
working. I don't want to, can't bring myself to care enough about my grade. It's not like I cared
about my grades before yet at the same time I do care. I care very much because I don't want Beau's
grade to suffer. He doesn't deserve that, especially not after everything he's done for me.
"Don't worry about it." Beau states softly, reaching out towards me, his hands invading my space
but for some reason I don't mind. His touch is gentle, reassuring, his fingers gently dancing across
my skin sending a tingle through me, giving me Goosebumps.
'But…' I begin to sign, intending to protest. I can't stop worrying about it. If it was only my grade at
stake it would be alright but this is Beau's grade as well and I can't just ignore that. However, I don't
get far, my protest silenced before I'm even given the opportunity to 'voice' it.
"Really, it's alright, Dimitri. I've an idea. We're going to get a fantastic grade." His eyes are
sparkling, filled with excitement and energy and that's the reason I believe him. Also, something
tells me that he's not going to let me protest again, something subtle, intuitive, oh so discreet,
something like the fact that I wouldn't be able to sign even if I had wanted to seeing my hands are
currently trapped in his. What? You didn't really think we were sharing the same wavelength or
something, did you? Yes, I know that that's not discreet but hey, I blame Beau for my momentary
lapse into sarcastic humour. Didn't know I even had a sense of humour to begin with. No, my lips
are twitching. I want to smile. Now that's a situation I quickly rectify settling my features into
passive acceptance off all that is around me.
"Great!" Beau grins leaning forward to drop a light kiss upon my lips before withdrawing once
more, once again, shocking me to the core. The action had been sudden and impulsive and it looks
like he may be unaware of what he's done because now he's slipping off the bed, excitedly telling
me about how great his secret plan is, telling me not to worry, how he has it all under control while
pulling the sheets down so that I can crawl beneath them. I let myself go, allow the moment to take
over and crawl beneath the sheets with no thoughts of protest, my heart in turmoil, my mind
currently occupied with the tingling in my lips. Why does a simple touch from Beau affect me so?
Why did a simple brush of his lips upon mine, contact that barely qualifies as a kiss set my lips
tingling?
Before I know it, I'm lying on my side, tucked into his bed, his silky sheets tucked beneath my chin
and his hands lost within my hair. His touch is gentle, his fingertips brushing through the strands,
and it's only when he withdraws that I realise what he was doing. Clutched in his grasp is a
collection of clips, clips that he has taken out of my hair. I had forgotten about them and it's with
horror that I realise half of them are bright pink.

Déjà vu anyone?
The next morning is kind of a blur to me. I swear, Beau does everything on fast forward, dragging
me out of bed, dumping clothes into my arms and as I barely manage to clothe myself dragging me
down for breakfast. I'm still chewing a pancake, walking to school, my bag upon my back and I've
no idea how it got there. I think I may even still be asleep but who knows. I don't sleep much. I
mean truly sleep, where rest is unfettered by nightmare. Let's not forget that I don't exactly feel safe
sleeping in any place that houses my father. Beau's place on the other hand, makes me feel safe so I
guess it is not all that surprising that my body is reluctant to wake.
Beau's walking beside me, carrying a huge wrapped parcel. Why is he carrying a huge wrapped
parcel? Wait a minute… the paintings. I shake the sleep from my eyes before signing. 'Let me help.'
That expressed I reach out towards him intending to take the parcel from him.
Beau steps away from me, dodging out of my reach and shakes his head. "It's okay, Dimitri. I have
it." He is grinning at me, silently challenging me almost as if he's expecting the protest I'm about to
'voice'.
'But it's my painting as well, my project as well. It's only fair that I help you carry it.' Please don't
look at me like that. I know I didn't finish it. I know I placed Beau into a bind and yes I feel guilty.
Are you happy now? I once again have guilt tearing me apart. Beau's going to get a bad grade and
it's my fault.
"It's really alright, Dimitri. I wrapped them together." He cocks his head to the side, seeming to look
straight into my soul before he speaks again. "Don't worry about it." His voice is soft and soothing,
reaching out in order to calm me. "I really do have it all under control. It's not heavy and we're
going to do great." He grins, winking at me before resuming our trip to school as if nothing were
amiss. How did he know what I was thinking?
***
I lose Beau the moment we arrive at school. He tells me that he's off to hand the project in and then
slips into the crowd. I don't follow. I'm drained, worn and weary and really don't think I can take
anymore. I need space and time to gather myself together and Beau's very presence seems rather
counterproductive to the whole endeavour. I turn and head to my locker only to rather abruptly
encounter something hard, warm and unyielding. Yes, I have yet again managed to walk into
something.
"Hey. Long time no see." An all too familiar voice comments rather abrasively. "We really need to
stop bumping into each other like this though I must admit it's rather nice to see you alone for a
change. You've been making it rather difficult for me to welcome you to our school." A chill courses
through my blood, not so much at the words but at the manner in which they're said. The way in
which something is said can be far more telling than the actual words themselves and Kevin's voice
is filled with pure malice. He doesn't like me and means to harm me. I can hear as much from the
subtle shifts in intonation. The threat is more than confirmed when he grabs me and turns me,
slamming my body into the lockers behind me. Déjà vu anyone?
Pain courses through my body, the sharp tingle of newly aggravated nerves and the dull throb of
bruises yet to heal, each a sensation that's as familiar to me as breathing yet at the same time… not.
This pain is different to the pain I'm accustomed to. The same yet different and I think I prefer it.
Physical pain will fade. The pain I carry within me will not, has not for ten years. I've ignored it,
pretending it's not there but since meeting Beau have realised that I'm only deluding myself. It's
there, sitting deep inside me and it's eating me up from the inside out. I do not move. I do not
respond. Either would only serve to aggravate Kevin further and I don't really care if he beats me or
not. I simply don't care and refuse to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.
"You see, we don't like girly boys at our school." He shoves me into the lockers once again, my
limp body swaying with the movement. "Girly boy's with attitude and without a spine." He's
snarling now, no longer even attempting to hide his aggression and prejudice. He's in my space…
He is in my space and I need him out! My world is closing in on me again and I'm struggling to
breathe. His touch is abrasive and his breath echoes in my ear, ragged, aggressive and violent. I can
feel myself begin to withdraw from him and the world around me. I want to flee to the sanctuary in
my mind and this time Beau's not here to stop me.
"Back away, Kevin. He's mine." A sultry voice cuts into my mind seeming to echo as well. Warped
perception does that to you. Makes you see things, hear things and perceive things that may vary
greatly from what truly is. I find myself once again drawn back to reality by Beau. No, that voice
doesn't belong to him but it's that very fact that draws me back. Someone is once again defending
me against Kevin and this someone is not Beau. Which brings me to the burning question foremost
upon my mind: Who is it? "You should know better than to touch what belongs to me." A hand is
resting lightly upon my chest. It most certainly doesn't belong to Kevin and effectively manages to
get him to draw away. The voice is feminine, still containing that sultry note that sends shivers
down ones spine. The reason for those shivers is debatable though, because in my case they're
shivers of disgust and horror. I happen to recognise that voice.
"Well, lookie here, if it isn't the whore." Kevin's voice is filled with the same malice that he'd
directed at me, only now he's directing it at Laura. Don't look at me like that. I'm just as shocked by
this recent turn of events as you are!
"Takes one to know one, Kev." Laura retorts without even batting an eye. She's leaning lightly
against me yet at the same time somehow still manages to give me space. Her touch is light,
suggestive yet at the same time non invasive because she keeps her hand upon my shoulder and her
body a slight distance away from mine. Why is she doing this? "Either way, hands off my property."
"Who says he's your property, slut." Kevin growls in an attempt to be intimidating. Kevin is afraid
of her. His words, his tone and even his gestures are aggressive on the surface but he's afraid of her.
Every bone in my body tells me so and every movement he makes confirms my suspicions. He's
upset, angry that she's interrupted his attack upon me but for some reason he hasn't touched her. Nor
has he reached out in order to physically intimidate her and that's strange. He doesn't strike me as
the type that would refrain from hitting someone because they're female. "He hangs out with Beau
and some small scrawny brat of a kid, not you." Kevin crosses his arms and gives Laura a challenge
filled glare, smirking in triumph. He's pleased with himself for coming up with that argument. I
wonder how many brain cells he burnt out doing so. I don't think he has all that many to spare.
Laura turns to face him, shifting away from me and dropping her hand off my shoulder. She raises
the hand once more and begins to inspect her nails allowing the moment to draw out as she
deliberately ignores Kevin. "I say so." She retorts eventually, her voice calm, monotonous and more
than a touch bored. "And what I say goes, isn't that so, Kev?" She gives Kevin a half smile that on
the surface is supposed to appear innocent but ultimately it hides so much more. It's a smile I
recognise, having seen it many times in my life. A cold smile, a promise and a threat.
Kevin's eyes widen and he literally backs away from her, as one would from a viper. "Whatever. I'll
catch up with him later." Kevin snarls turning to leave.
"Not if I have anything to say about it, cupcake." Laura retorts cheerfully. "I do like to keep a close
eye on my property, after all. But then again, you already know that, don't you?" She smirks at him
before resuming her inspection of her nails, rather obviously dismissing him. Kevin storms off in a
temper. She's good. Much as I hate to admit it, right now I would give almost anything to know
what that was all about but suspect that with Laura, it wouldn't be that simple so I don't ask. Not
that she'd understand me anyway. She's intimidating, okay! There I admitted it. If she can scare
Kevin off with a few words just think what she can do to me?
"You owe me one." Laura declares turning to face me, no longer putting on the bored air she'd used
around Kevin. I guess I should be grateful that she's not casually dismissing my existence but
honestly, I'd prefer that over this flirty tone that makes me sick to my stomach. She must've seen the
dazed, confused look on my face because she smirks at me, causally shaking her finger in the air. A
single finger, a single favour, a single debt. How do I manage to get myself into these situations
without so much as even doing anything? Anyone?

Distraction and Denial

My encounter with Laura provided me with momentary distraction from Kia and the FBI allowing
me to actually arrive at my first class of the day before shaking off the dazed shock and once again
being hit by a ton of emotional bricks as I realise my life is pretty much over. I sincerely doubt that
Kia's going to drop this and logically the next step for him would be to speak to my father. I'm
tempted to consider running away but something tells me he'll come after me. It's these thoughts
and those of last night that threaten to consume me, to drown me in emotions of panic, terror,
dejection and madness.
And so it is, that pale, shell shocked and trembling I seat myself in the music room, barely keeping
a grip upon what little sanity I may still possess. Consequently, I hope that my lack of attention may
be forgiven. "Are you alright?" Alex's concerned voice filters into my awareness, intruding upon the
insanity of my subconscious making me jump. I didn't even realise that he's there.
My eyes go wide and thoughts of eminent death flee my mind as I begin to actually register what I
see before me. Alex is in the music room with me. Please note… and this does beg repetition, Alex
is in the same music room as I am. Now I know that most of you are confused by my shock at this
realisation so let me explain. I've well and truly given up the violin. Strange as it may seem the
sound of dying cats doesn't appeal to me all that much. That decided I was ready to quit music
altogether when Alex convinced me to give the panpipes I received from Beth a try.
Now, I know what you are thinking. I don't want to have anything to do with the panpipes as they're
a gift from Beth but something about the small instrument fascinates me and I cannot seem to part
myself from it. Alex, noticing this, can't seem to stop pestering me. Recently my strength of will has
been torn asunder by Beau so I have nothing to counter Alex's persistence with. So, now I'm in Mr
Reid's class seeing as Miss Shale doesn't teach panpipes. Does my shock at Alex's presence make
more sense now? 'What are you doing here?' I sign, completely forgetting myself and the fact that
Alex doesn't understand sign language.
Alex looks sheepish and a touch embarrassed at his lack of understanding. He silently hands me the
pen and pad he's now officially dubbed Dimitri's voice. And by officially I mean officially! He's
painted the two words onto the cover with bright pink paints. Yes, he does know my predisposition
to pink and apparently finds this amusing for some reason. He says it makes things interesting and
should remind me of Beau. Unfortunately for me, he's seen me eyeing Beau and has now officially
decided that I'm gay and in love with him. Don't ask me how he jumped from me glaring at Beau to
that conclusion because I'll never know. He, of course, ignores any and all protests I make regarding
the matter. Go figure, let's drink to Murphy. Personally I think he simply doesn't want to be the only
one pining away for someone unobtainable (insert Laura here) and seeing that Beau was still
ignoring me at the time. Alex decided I should pine after someone unobtainable as well so that we
can pine away together. I wonder what he's going to do now that Beau's actually talking to me
again.
'What are you doing here?' I repeat the question this time using pen on paper and hand the rather
offensive pad back to Alex.
Reading the question Alex smiles and glances back up at me. "I convinced Miss Shale to let me
come and support you today. I know you're starting something new and thought you'd appreciate a
friendly face. I know I always appreciate it." He gives me a shy smile. "Besides, I'm supposed to
take it easy today anyway."
Something in his soft words nags at me and I desperately pounce upon it intending to take
advantage of it. I want to ignore Kia, the FBI, my father and my secret for as long as possible and
maybe this is the way to do it. Distraction and denial, the best medicine known to man, right? So
grabbing the abhorred pink pad I write frantically. "Take it easy? What do you mean? Are you
sick?" I glance up at him when I'm done, expecting him to read the words over my shoulder. What!?
I can't keep passing him the pad, snatching it back and passing it to him again. I'm trying to have a
conversation here. I know what you're thinking. So, I'm not supposed to want conversation? Well, if
there's one thing that I've learnt recently it's that what I'm supposed to want and what I actually do
want don't exactly coincide… not anymore, not since meeting Beau. No, I'm not in love with him!
Don't you dare side with Alex on this!
Alex looks uncomfortable, his gaze shifting away from the pad. He's hiding something. Alex is
actually hiding something! Does everyone here have a secret? Beau, Laura, Kevin, even Alex? Is
that even normal? Okay, okay, I know, this school and everyone in it is far from normal, but is it too
much to ask for just one normal person, just one? I mean, honestly, I pretty much thought that aside
from his brilliant violin playing, Alex was it. "Um…" Alex licks his lips at a loss for words. "I guess
I get sick easy." He admits, his skin going bright red. To make matters even worse he's about to cry.
Crap. I made Alex cry. Have I won the bastard of the year award yet?
I can't bear it. I cannot bear the thought of Alex's tears, so I reach out, gently touching his arm in
order to draw his attention to me. I don't know what possesses me to do it. I don't know if it is the
lost, lonely look in his eyes, or the insecurity I can see radiating off of him, or perhaps the pain that
seems to echo my own. I really don't understand why but I'm writing, small black words marring the
pure white page, giving existence to words I don't think I'm ready to accept. 'I suffer severe panic
attacks.' I admit, the words staining the page, the scrawl of my own handwriting seeming almost
sinister to me.
Yes, it may not be a big admission to you. I mean, you already knew that right? I've told Beau as
much, after all but this is different. When I told Beau… I was using it as an excuse. I didn't really
believe that I suffered from anxiety and panic disorder. Who wants to believe they have a disorder?
A mental disorder, no less? You would have to be mad or something to want to believe that. It was a
convenient excuse to get people to leave me alone. Unfortunately for me, it is actually true. After
last night, even I have to admit as much. I still don't want to believe it…Really, I don't and this
revelation is likely to be only momentary but for now, it's an important moment for me. It's not
exactly normal to keep blacking out, to pass out from waves of panic coursing through ones blood,
now is it?
Alex blinks in surprise at the words upon the page, looking up at me with silent question in his eyes.
I see the question and for once actually decide to acknowledge it. I think I'm getting soft. Not
something I want to think about. 'I can't breathe and then pass out so I guess I get sick a lot too.' I
add these damning words below my scrawled admission.
Relief crosses his features and suddenly I have my arms full of Alex. He's embracing me,
whispering thanks softly in my ear. When did I do anything worth getting thanked for? "Alright,
break it up you two." Mr Reid's amused voice fills the room with his presence. His eyes are
sparkling in amusement and he's winking at us. What is he winking at us for? Wait. Don't answer
that. I don't want to know.
Alex withdraws from me, drops his gaze and gives me a shy smile before making his way over to a
seat intending to stay here the entire period. Mr Reid doesn't comment so it's rather obvious that
Alex has done this before. That fact only serves to worry me even further. What could Alex really
be hiding? He gets sick easily? Sick how? Why? How often? How bad? These are questions that are
going to plague me and something tells me that the answer to them may be even less desirable than
the anxiety of not knowing.
My Alex related anxiety is momentarily brushed aside to be replaced by frustration. Just for the
record, panpipes are difficult to play! I never thought that simply blowing into something could be
such a complicated procedure and it takes me a full twenty minutes to get a single sound out of
those pipes. It is almost poetic: How much this instrument is like me… How it simply, and rather
stubbornly, I might add, refuses to make a sound and when it finally does it sounds torn, broken and
ruined.
The sound surprises me, the sudden shrill whistle almost causing me to drop the instrument as I
draw away from it in shock. That was unexpected and so is the sound of Alex's soft laughter, as
musical and enthralling as the music he pulls from a violin. Looking up from the instrument, I'm
failing to spontaneously ignite with the heat of my glare alone, I meet the Alex's amused brown
eyes and suddenly for some unexplainable reason, my day is lighter.

Breaking the mirror

The rest of the morning passes me by in a blur of teachers, students, classrooms and monotonous
droning that I suspect should in actual fact be speech of some kind or another. I can't be too certain
about that. It's as the bell rings for lunch that I suddenly realise I'm sitting in English class. Now at
first glance that may not seem all that strange. It's only closer inspection of the situation that reveals
the problem. I'm not supposed to be in English class at this time and the students staring at me in
confusion are not my classmates. Miss Kriel, on the other hand, seems rather oblivious to this fact.
How did this happen? Better question yet, why has it taken me so long to realise?
Horrified, I grab my bag, and move towards the door intending to disappear as quickly as possible.
Only, I don't make it very far, my progress halted by a grip upon my wrist, and very familiar grip at
that. "Are you okay, Dimitri?" His soft voice enquires, concern colouring his tone.
I swallow, for a moment not wanting to believe what I already know is true. It's inevitable, every
encounter I've thus far had with him is inevitable and like the others, this too is unavoidable.
Turning I look up at Beau, my eyes wide and filled with panic and shock. "I went to the wrong
class." I sign, hastily, trying to cover up my reaction to him. My heart is racing and I can feel
tension mixed with excitement filling me at the mere sound of his voice. Why, oh why? Out of all
the classes I could've stumbled into by accident, why did it have to be Beau's?
"I can see that. I've been trying to get your attention all period. " He responds softly, pointing at the
pile of notes in my arms, notes that I'd gathered without even realising I'd done so let alone looked
at. "Are you alright?" He repeats, his brow creasing with the concern he feels and the motion
momentarily distracts me. I want to be distracted. I don't want to think, don't want to feel and most
certainly do not want to face the disruption of my mental and emotional being that's currently
brought me to this place. So I reach out and absently trace the lines of concern upon his brow.
"Dimitri?" It's the soft questioning tone in his voice that brings me back to myself, causing me to
instinctively jerk my hand away from him. I can still feel him upon my fingertips, the pleasant
warmth of his skin upon mine accompanied by the tingle of electricity that always seems to
accompany every touch of his skin upon my own. I really should look into that. I may not be all that
accustomed to touch but this tingle that seems to course through me at his every touch can't be
normal. Maybe there's something wrong with him? Maybe he is one of those people that are always
surrounded by static electricity. Strangely, that would make sense.
"Come on. Let's go to lunch." Beau rather abruptly changes the topic seeming to accept my lack of
response. My hand is once more in his and I'm already out the classroom door when I realise he's
taking me along with him!
No. I can't have lunch with him and some of his friends. I can't face the prospect of meeting more
people and I certainly cannot face the prospect of spending my lunch period with Beau. Not when
he knows my secret, knows how tainted I am. I can't face him. Not in public. Not when there are
others around to see me break and breaking in Beau's presence has become far too common an
occurrence for me. I dig my heels into the ground silently protesting against possible disaster. Beau
turns to me and I frantically sign a response to the silent question in his eyes. 'I usually have lunch
with Alex.'
The confusion upon Beau's face is quickly replaced with a light all too familiar humour He uses it
to hide the pain and guilt that he feels. "I know." Beau responds lightly, pointing to the tree that
Alex and I have adopted as our official lunch spot. By adopted I mean we tend to sit there more
often than not. I like it because it's rather secluded and situated rather far away from the area's
generally populated by the other students yet at the same time too open for those wishing to hide
delinquent practices such as smoking, drugs and sex. "That's where I'm going." That said, he
resumes his pace and I follow feeling more than a touch embarrassed at my own stupidity. I guess I
should've paid attention to where he was going before assuming that he was going to drag me off to
meet new people. If I really think about it, he's spent his lunch period with me before and not once
has he invited another person to join us.
Alex is already seated beneath the tree when Beau and I arrive and glances up at me with confusion,
obviously surprised to see Beau beside me. Believe you me I'm as surprised as he is. Beau hasn't
spent lunch with me since randomly starting to ignore me. That was before I met Alex, mind you.
"Hi, I'm Beau." Beau causally introduces himself and sits down besides Alex, dragging me down as
well. "I brought Dimitri. He's a little distracted." He chuckles lightly and I stare at him in utter
horror when he continues. "He just spent English class with me. Missed his own class and didn't
even realise it."
My gaze instantly meets Alex's, horror and embarrassment waging war within me. Why is Beau
doing this to me? Alex looks at me with the same concern that now seems to permanently reside on
Beau's face. "Are you okay?" Alex asks, reaching out to drop his hand lightly upon my knee
echoing Beau's concern, threatening to shatter me apart. I can't do this. I cannot sit here and pretend
that everything's alright when it's not. I'm not alright and I haven't been alright in ten years.
I'm sobbing, crying so hard that it feels like my throat is being torn from me pulling whimpers,
broken sounds of pain from me. I barely register the shock upon Alex's face before burying my face
into the palms of my hands, my ragged strands of hair falling forward to mask my face as they are
meant to. His shock could either be a result of my sudden tears or my sudden voice. It's more than
likely a mixture of the two but right now, I don't really care. I don't care that I've betrayed myself
and my father. I don't care that he now knows I have a voice and I don't care that both he and Beau
are around to see me cry. All I truly care about is the fact that I'm breaking. I can feel it, shards of
pain and guilt cutting deep into me and I'm no longer strong enough to prevent this. I'm no longer
strong enough to pick up the pieces, no longer strong enough to live.
I think Beau's sensed the change in me. He's grabbing me, shaking me, yelling at me from a
distance. I know he's yelling. I can see his lips move, I can see the frantic look in his eyes and the
sheer panic upon his face but for some reason, I can't hear him. I can hear nothing but the painful
grating sound of my sobbing, a torn and ragged sound, painful to the ear.
Beau's actions, his frantic movements and desperate attempts to get through to me are perceived
through a soundproof bubble that seems to have surrounded me, separating me from reality and
burying me deep within myself, burying me deep within waves of agonising pain. I can see Beau. I
can see every movement he makes but like watching a fish in an aquarium, it possesses a surreal
quality about it that has nothing to do with me. His actions, his movements have no impact upon
me. He can't reach me. Not anymore. I don't want him to.
I think Alex is still there. He must be but I'm not sure because I know that I'm no longer there. I am
now buried deep within myself, within my worst living nightmare, alone with the ragged, torn
sound of my lost voice, and my pain. It's my consequence I guess, the price I have to pay for my
darkest sins.
Time and space, the ropes that bind us to reality, lose meaning to me in the hell of my own making.
They lose the power to bind me, lose their influence upon my mind and I drift. The pain deep within
me dulls and the trembling in my body calms, lethargy and apathy taking the place of pain. I let it
and grab onto the momentary relief that it grants me. It's then that other sensation once again begins
to filter into my mind. I'm warm, surrounded by heat and electricity is once again coursing through
my veins. I would know that touch anywhere. Beau is touching me, gently running his fingers
through my hair and I'm cradled in his arms, surrounded by his warmth.
My heart ache for the loss of touch when I draw away but I ignore it dully meeting Beau's strained
green gaze with my own rather empty blue, empty because there's no longer anything there. I'm
dead, or at least as good as. The only question remains: Who will strike the final blow? Will it be
the man I call my father or will it be Kia, along with people I've yet to meet but know I can't avoid?
Little do I know that my answer will be rather unexpected and will come sooner than I can ever
begin to imagine.
#
Time. What is its true meaning? It's governed by nothing less and nothing more than perception. It
feels like mere minutes later that I find myself here yet I know that it has in actual fact been hours.
Beau and I missed work. My fault really cause school was out and half the afternoon was already
gone when I finally came to my senses. If you can call it that, that is. Alex had already gone home.
Beau told me that he sat beside me along with him the whole afternoon, missing his classes along
with Beau. Apparently he didn't want to leave me, only he had been left with little choice. His
mother had insisted that he go home. It doesn't make a difference to me. Not anymore. I'm once
again alone, blessedly alone and the time of reckoning has finally come.
Beau wouldn't stop asking me if I was alright and tried to get me to go to his home again, only… I
couldn't go when it was promised to my father that I'd be back today. I can't avoid my father, it's
fate. My body aches, dull physical pain that is but a reflection of the pain that's truly tearing me
apart. I'm unaccustomed to this dull physical pain but find rather easy to ignore. My father was
home when I arrived. He was angry. He found out about Kia and took it out on me before leaving
once more. Thank God Beth's not here. I hurt.
It's a sign… the marks upon me are a sign. I'm next on my father's list only I won't allow it. I will
not be a victim. I will not be his victim. I'll do it before he can. Resolve. Resolution. Conviction.
These are emotions I thought I had long since forgotten. They fill the empty void within me now
that I've finally decided to end all of this. I cannot waver from my course. I will not waver from my
course. I've failed enough in my life. I will not fail this. I press. Cold serrated steel cuts into my skin
and my previously virgin flesh is marked by pain, marked by blood and a wound that is only a
reflection of those within.

Lilac
The pain in my body dulls and fades, flowing out of me on streams of red. My body is limp and
heavy. The blade I've used to finally free myself from this hell lies beside me, stained with my
blood, seeming to shimmer, then fade, and dance in a strange rather enthralling contrast of red and
silver. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise that it's not the blade that's dancing but my
vision. My vision is blurring and fading as what little warmth I've ever possessed drains out of me. I
welcome the cold and the oblivion and freedom it promises me. The pain I'm required to endure to
get there is inconsequential. It'll never compare to the pain I've endured for the last ten years.
I hear a sweet musical voice and feel a touch of warmth upon my skin. Lilacs. She smells like fresh
lilacs in the morning, a subtle scent touched by morning dew and her touch welcomes me. The
touch belongs to my angel of death. It's a strange sensation filled with contradiction as I'm touched
both by pleasant warmth and deathly cold. If I'd known that this was death's embrace, I'd have done
this long ago. I should have done this long ago. I'm finally free of the chains that bind me.
My angel is talking to me, her gentle voice drowning out my own silent cries of panic and protest.
Only… her words remain indistinct, all that registers is her gentle voice, a familiar voice, a voice
that reminds me of someone but I can't figure out whom. I can't think, can't focus, can't gather my
drifting thoughts into a cohesive whole. All that remains is sensation that slowly fades from me, a
flow that tells me I'm dying. I don't want to die but it's too late. What's done is done and it probably
should've been done long ago. Justice… consequence… the price I pay for the sins I've committed.
Chill…
Silence…
Darkness….
I'm alone, surrounded by varying shades of black. This place seems familiar to me, a place I've not
been to in years, a place I never left. I take a few steps forward, vague shapes with no distinct form
before my eyes but I do not waver. I know where I am. I know this place like the back of my hand
and I know the route I'm meant to take. My breath catches in the back of my throat, dread filling me
to overflowing.
I know what awaits me. I know what I'm walking towards and don't want to go. I don't want to live
through it, not again. My mind is screaming, frantically begging my body to stop but my body is but
a memory and no longer belongs to me. "Mama?" My voice, a voice I've not heard in ten years, is
small and wavers as I speak. It's filled with confusion, uncertainty and fear.
I can hear yelling. Two voices screaming words that make no sense to me and jump at the loud
sound of something shattering. "Mama?" I try again, my voice a touch louder, my fear and
confusion driving me ever forward, my body, my small feet, my six year old self, ignoring the
desperate pleas and cries of one ten years wiser. Why will I not listen to myself? Why do I still have
no control over this dreamscape, this nightmare that's all too real?
I can feel the rough fibre of carpet beneath my feet, can feel the cool air upon my skin and can now
make out the familiar shapes of furniture, illuminated by the faint light flickering into the hallway
from the kitchen. Only something is now missing. My senses are sharp, I can feel, I can see but I
can no longer hear. The screaming has stopped and a heavy silence fills the air. I know what comes
next. I want to avoid what comes next but I can't. I'm forever trapped in this loop of nightmare, this
ring of sin.
I turn the corner and suddenly the darkness is gone, black replaced by cruel colour. I see my father
standing over my mother who is lying crumpled upon the ground, lying in a pool of red liquid that
almost looks like cool drink. Mommy spilt cool drink? But why is she lying in it? Why is she not
moving? Why is she not coming to me? "Mama?" I question again moving forward, now running,
wanting to help her clean, wanting her to take me into her arms and chase away the nightmare,
chase away the imaginary monsters in my head, imaginary monsters that are all too soon replaced
by a real one.
My father grabs my arm and pulls me away from the prone form of my mother upon the floor, my
mother who is lying in a pool of red cool drink, my mother who is not moving, not coming to me,
not responding to my desperate cries. "Mama! Wake up! Mama! Please wake up! Mama!" I'm
screaming, sobbing, scared and confused. I don't know what's happening; don't understand what's
going on, yet at the same time I know all too well. It's strange, don't you think? How I can both
understand and not understand at the same time, how I think it's cool drink. I want it to be cool
drink, yet know it's not. I know it's blood. Isn't it strange how I can dually exist in a single moment
for in my mind I'm both six and sixteen.
There's a hand around my mouth, it's blocking my screams, blocking my breath and hurting me.
Papa is hurting me and all I can see are his eyes filled with madness that even I, at six can
understand. "Shut up. Shut up now! I hear a single sound from you and I'll do the same to you."
Papa is angry. Papa's voice is hard, cold and scary. Papa is going to hurt me. Papa hurt mama and
now he's going to hurt me.
Papa doesn't want sound so I stop. I stop screaming. I stop crying and stare at him out of wide eyes.
I'm scared. I'm confused. I don't know what's happening. "Do you understand me? Not a sound."
Papa's whisper is harsh, Papa's eyes are scary and I don't understand. I don't understand at all but
I say I do. I nod because I'm scared. Papa is going to hurt me too, just like he did to Mama.
"Good." Papa withdraws his hand and grabs a cloth, putting it into my hands. "Dimitri, mommy
made a mess. Please clean it up." It's an order, not a request. I'll be in trouble if I don't. Papa's eyes
tell me so, and so clutching the cloth to my chest I watch in silence as Papa takes Mama away from
me, leaving me to clean Mama's spilt cool drink. Mama's spilt blood.
And so my nightmare begins and ends. The scene that fades is but the beginning of a real nightmare
I've lived and the end of the recollection as the dreamscape once again fades to black.
Imaginary monsters are not scary anymore.
A rhythmic beep… the whisper of air… beating together in tandem, playing out a rhythm as old as
time, a rhythm that's always there yet barely ever truly heard. Heartbeat… Breathe… the rhythm of
life. That's the first thing I hear when I wake and it's the first clue I receive to the fact that I'm alive.
I have failed to free myself from the bonds that are driving me mad and it's with this realisation that
I seem to hear an audible click, manacles, chains, binding me once again. They're not real, you can't
see them but to me they're my only reality.
The second thing I register is the scent. No, not the scent of medication, sterilised halls and illness
but the scent fresh lilacs touched by dew and for some reason the scent is all too familiar. I open my
eyes and search for its source in confusion trying to identify the reason the scent seems so familiar
to me and what I find, surprises me. I've found the source of the all too familiar scent.
Beth.
Beth is sleeping beside me, her head in her arms, upon the bed in which I lie. She smells like lilacs,
the scent touched by the warmth of her body and mixed with a scent uniquely her own. For some
reason it makes me think of home. No, not my home, home the way it's supposed to be filled with
warmth, laughter, affection and love.
Longing for the unobtainable aside it would appear that I'm still very much alive. I'm in hospital and
for some reason Beth is sleeping seated beside me. Why is Beth here? She can't love me. She
doesn't even know me. No one loves me. No one should love the tainted being I have become.
There's nothing left to love after all.
I must've done something, moved, made a sound or shifted her in her sleep because suddenly she
jerks up, her still sleep filled eyes looking at me for a moment in complete incomprehension before
seeming to register the fact that I'm awake and watching her. Before I can even register what she's
about to do I'm in her arms, embraced, her soft gentle voice whispering to me, an all too familiar
warmth and scent surrounding me and suddenly I remember why the scent is so familiar. It was the
scent carried by my angel of death, correction, scratch that, it's the scent carried by the person that's
denied me the oblivion I long for. I should hate her only…
"Dimitri, I'm so glad you're okay. Why did you do that? Why did you try to kill yourself? I was so
scared. There was so much blood. Please, Dimitri, don't do it again, sweetheart. I was worried sick.
Your father's still worried sick. Please don't do it again. If something's bothering you, please come
to me, please don't try to kill yourself. I'm here for you." She's babbling, her words touched with a
mixture of fear and relief. I scared her. I didn't mean to scare her. I feel guilty.
That was stupid… doing it where Beth may find me. She didn't deserve to see that. No one deserves
to see something like that and if I had died I'd have hurt her as much as my father hurt me. I don't
want to hurt her. Don't want her to feel the pain I feel and feel so guilty for doing this to her that I
could cry only I don't have the energy to. My body is still dull, filled with lethargy and my head is
light. There's nothing I can do except stare at her, stare blankly and accept the embrace she bestows
upon me, an embrace she's using to comfort herself as much as me.

Not one word

My father is actually looking at me. I don't think he's truly looked at me since killing my mother.
Why is he doing it now? "That was a very stupid thing to do." My father's voice, breaking into the
thick suppressive silence that now hangs between us, startles me. "I was worried about you." His
words are hollow. They don't mean anything to me. They are but tiny drops in an ocean, salty tears
that hold no remorse, at least, not anymore. "I'm sorry, Dimitri." He continues to speak reaching out
towards me and I have to fight the urge to flinch. He's not touched me in years; yesterday's angry
beating aside, of course. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please believe me. You made me angry. I was
scared. The FBI told me you'd spoken but you couldn't have, could you Dimitri? You can't speak,
right Dimitri? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. I shouldn't have doubted you. You'll keep my
secret, our secret, right Dimitri?"
His words are softly spoken. There's darkness in those few softly spoken words, hiding chains that
bind me. I nod in agreement, staring into my father's cold eyes, eyes that used to be so warm, so
happy, eyes that were filled with guilt after my mother's death. They died, lost all traces of humanity
after the third murder.
"Good." My father whispers, smiling at me. To a stranger, that smile would seem warm, friendly
and even affectionate but I know better. He's a natural. He can be so easily affectionate on the
surface yet so violent beneath, and the friendly look upon his face is but a mask that hides what he
truly is. "I love you, Dimitri." My father whispers to me. Those four simple words terrify me. He
said he loved my mother, he said he loved those that came after and look what happened to them. Is
this love's true meaning? I want nothing to do with it! I don't want him to love me! I flinch, I can't
help it anymore. He's kissing me, a gentle brush of his lips upon my forehead, a fatherly gesture that
has Beth beaming at both of us as she once more approaches my hospital bed.
Yes, Beth is still here. She's not left my room since the moment I woke and that puzzles me. The
only time she left the side of my bed is a moment ago when my father walked in with a bunch of
flowers for me. She took them from him and crossed the room to arrange them on the window sill
thus rather conveniently missing my father's, oh so loving, exchange with me. I'm not surprised that
my father was not at my side when I woke. He is, after all, a busy man and barely ever has time for
me. I guess it's one of the reasons he buys me so many gifts. I don't want his blood money. "We
need to go. Beth and I have a surprise planned for you." He winks at me as he withdraws and I now
must fight off a shudder of horror and disgust. A surprise? I want nothing to do with it, damn you! I
hate you! I hate all of you! I want to scream, I want to curse him and for once, it's my lack of voice
that saves me.
***
My second visitor of the day is Beau. He's joined by Alex. Their eyes filled with disappointment.
It's a look that hurts me more than anything my father has done or could ever do to me and I do not
understand it. Why should I care what Beau and Alex think? "Why did you do it?" Alex is the first
to speak, breaking the oppressive silence that once again threatens to suffocate me. I drop my gaze,
unable to meet either of theirs. They wouldn't understand. They could never understand the
nightmare, the pain that haunts me day in and day out and nothing I say could ever change that.
"Why did you do it?" Alex's voice fills with distress and rises in volume forcing me to look at him,
shocked. Alex is such a quiet person, always soft spoken and I've never heard him raise his voice.
He's angry. I can see it and it's directed at me. "Why did you try to kill yourself?" Alex leans
forward, slamming his hands onto my bed with a force I would have never even imagined he could
possess. My bed shakes and his heated brown gaze bores into mine.
Beau is reaching towards Alex and trying to pull Alex's slim frail form away from me but once
again it would appear that Alex's appearance is deceptive because he's not moving, Beau's strength
is not enough to win against his determination. He shakes Beau off and continues to glare at me,
directing all his anger at me. "Why did you do it?" He hisses scaring me. I've never seen Alex like
this. It's not like him and terrifies me to the core. What have I done? "I'd give anything to have what
you have." Alex's voice is thick, filled with an all too familiar pain. "I'd give anything to know that I
might live to see my twenty first birthday and you're just willing to throw it all away! How dare
you?!"
Alex's words… his words… their implication. No, it can't be. I know he gets sick but… it couldn't
be… he can't mean... Please God, no… not Alex. Please tell me I misheard, please tell me I'm
misunderstanding the implication that's blatantly hidden in Alex's words… please… it can't be
true… Alex can't be dying! I glance at Beau and suddenly I can't breathe. No, I'm not having
another panic attack. I can't breathe because dread is thick in my throat mixing with horror and
grief, grief for something that's been taken away from me, my naiveté. The look on Beau's face
confirms my suspicion.
He's staring at Alex, the expression on his face echoing my emotion. I thought Alex was happy. I
thought he had a bright future, the perfect life. Okay, maybe not quite perfect but far better than
mine. I didn't know that he's that sick. "You have everything I've ever wanted and you're trying to
throw it all away." Alex finishes on a whisper that echoes through my hospital room. I catch a
glimpse of tears in his eyes as he turns and runs out giving neither Beau nor I time to react, let alone
say anything.
The silence Alex leaves behind is awkward, heavy and uncomfortable. The guilt I feel weighs heavy
upon my heart, figuratively crushing me and making it difficult for me to think. I hurt Alex and he's
one of the last people on the face of this planet that I would ever want to hurt. I didn't know that he
was that sick. I didn't know that my life means anything to anyone. I didn't know he cared. Yet the
fact still remains. This is my fault.
I curl in on myself, wrap my white bandaged arms around my legs and bury my face in my knees.
Beau's still here and I don't want to see him or acknowledge him because then I'll have to
acknowledge that my life means something. I don't want it to mean something to them because it
doesn't mean anything to me. I want to die. I want to rid the world my own existence, snuff the pale
flame of my life out. I want to escape my nightmare and knowing that Alex wants to live doesn't
change this desire within me.
Beau, however, has other ideas. As usual, he doesn't let me be. He pulls me into his arms, pulling
me awkwardly off the bed in the process. His touch burns my skin even through the cloth I wear as
he adjusts my body in his lap seeking a comfortable position for the both of us before simply
holding me in silence. Cradling me, supporting me and offering me comfort.
I remain curled in on myself and bury my face into Beau's clothes. His unique musky scent tempts
me, a heady drug that offers me relief from the emotion that's currently threatening to crush me. It
offers me distraction and relief that I ache to reach out for but I know I don't deserve it so it remains
just beyond my grasp.
I don't know how long we remain like that, trapped in emotion neither of us are willing to
acknowledge let alone admit to. Time loses meaning, leaving me with nothing but the warmth that
now surrounds me and seems to gently lull me into a place of rest I've so long been denied. Why
does Beau affect me so? Why can he grant me momentary rest, comfort and relief against my will to
accept it? Why can he make me feel… make me want to live?
Not even realising that I'd drifted off to begin with, I wake to a gentle touch upon my forearms,
trailing over the bandages wrapped from elbow to wrist. The material hides several long gashes that
now mar my skin. I didn't want to fail so I cut myself several times from elbow to wrist reasoning
that with more surface area it would bleed quicker. I failed anyway. I wasn't given enough time.
Murphy is not done playing with me it seems.
The touch belongs to Beau. I don't need to open my eyes to know that. Only his touch can warm
me, burn me and set my skin tingling. His touch shifts from my bandaged arms, trails down my
body and settles beneath my knees. I'm being lifted and gently placed back upon the bed. He's
kissing me now, a gentle touch of lips upon my forehead and then he's gone.
Visiting me.
Leaving me.
Without speaking a single word.

A strange twist of events

No way. This isn't happening. I have not just been assigned a councillor! I don't need a councillor!
Why does no one understand this?! My life is my own and I don't need some random councillor
telling me what I should and should not be doing with it! I can kill myself if I want to! It's none of
her business!
Yes, my councillor is a female and is currently waiting for me to speak. Well, good luck to her. She
obviously doesn't know that I haven't spoken a single word at all in ten years! She keeps telling me
that what I say in this room will remain in this room and keeps asking me if I'm angry. Of course
I'm angry! They sent me to a councillor! I'm not about to tell her that though! That would be playing
right into their trap. It's not like she'd understand me anyway.
I'm currently sitting in a white room staring blankly at my councillor, a councillor I want nothing to
do with but seeing that it's a condition that I see her if I want to be released from hospital… I don't
exactly have a choice. We're not getting anywhere and that's exactly the way I want it. I have to deal
with what my life throws at me so she will have to deal with what her life throws at her, namely
ME. Looks like Murphy took a temporary vacation from interfering in my life and started
interfering with hers by sending me to her. Or, more likely, he's decided to kill two birds with a
single stone and is tormenting the both of us with each other. Either way, the result is the same. I'm
being forced into sitting in this room twice weekly and she has to deal with my silence and rather
blank stares. I don't intend to give her anything. Not. One. Scrap. Of information. Ever.
This is my first appointment and already she looks rather resigned. Good for her. At least I'm doing
something right. I don't want her in my head and she'd better get that into her head if we're ever to
establish some kind of neutral norm between us. She's still trying, mind you. Still asking questions
in an, oh so, casual voice and speaking to me as if we're actually having a normal conversation.
She's telling me that I'm not alone, that there are others like me, that there's hope. What does she
know? I withdraw into myself and tune her out, for once actually able to do so without Beau's
interference pulling me right back out again and so my session passes me by.
It's finally over and I'm free. I'm going home today. No more white walls. No more antiseptic and
no more doctors poking and prodding at me. I've only been here forty hours and I've already had
enough of this place. It's now nine o'clock in the morning and I can finally go back home. It's too
late to go to school but I don't care. There's no point in me going to school anyway. I'm not going to
live long enough to require an education and even if I do live that long, an education is the last thing
I'm going to need in prison.
I'm finally free of the councillor and walking back to my room, part of me wondering if anyone is
going to bother coming to pick me up. I'm rather surprised to find my room already occupied when
I arrive. Beth is seated on my hospital bed absently humming a tune. She smiles when she sees me.
Her face literally lights up. It's a beautiful expression and shocks me to the core. I've never seen
anyone look that happy to see me in my entire life. "Dimitri!" She exclaims, gracefully hopping off
the bed and making her way to my side.
I flinch when she reaches out towards me, unable to bring my defences up in time and she notices.
Immediately the look of happiness upon her face is marred. "It's alright, Dimitri. We're not mad at
you." She wraps me up in her arms and the now familiar scent of lilacs surrounds me. "Your father
wanted to come but he couldn't get away from work. He's not angry, sweetheart." Beth withdraws
from me and runs her fingers through my hair. Her touch is gentle, yet for some reason it is very
different from Beau's. I can feel the warmth of her skin but there/s no fire, no strange sensation that
heightens my very awareness of every sense I possess. "I know he reprimanded you when he came
to visit yesterday but it's because you made him worry. I don't know what he said to make you look
so hurt but I'm sure he didn't mean it, sweetheart. He loves you."
Beth's words confuse me and it takes me a while to start making the connections. My father loves
me? He reprimanded me? It doesn't make sense. Did I miss something here? When did my father
reprimand me? Suddenly it dawns on me. Yesterday, Beth thought that my father was reprimanding
me for making him worry. Beth didn't hear what he said. Strange, how it didn't even occur to me
that she may have overheard what my father said. She was there when my father threatened me,
when he spoke about the FBI and our secret. She could've heard, she should have heard but did not.
There really is no justice in the world.
"He wants you home safe and sound." Beth is still speaking completely unaware of the conflict
within me. Why didn't she hear? It would be so much easier if she had heard what he said. Maybe
then she could suspect something and get away from him before it's too late. I do not want him to
kill her. Please, anyone but Beth. For but a moment I want my voice back. I want to be able to speak
so I can warn her but the moment is soon gone. Even if I had my voice I can't warn her. I cannot
give voice to his sins, my sins. "He's very disappointed that you won't be coming home today."
What?! Did I just hear her correctly? What does she mean I'm not going home? I thought that they
were releasing me today. I don't want to stay in this place of antiseptic smells, infested with pokers,
prodders and people far too nosey for their own good. I cannot stay here. They keep watching me. I
can't breathe. Damn, I can't breathe again. Why can't I breathe? This isn't a big deal. If I stay here….
If I stay here I won't be at home with him. It's better for me but I just can't. Please, not here. I don't
want to stay here. Please don't make me.
Beth is shaking me, gently rocking me back and forth and speaking to me, trying to get my
attention. Her soft voice filters through my mind and I fight to calm the panic that courses through
me. I need to hear what she's telling me. I want to know why I can't go home! "It's only temporary,
Dimitri. The FBI are running an investigation at the moment. They don't want you living with us.
They say they want to keep an eye on you. They say you may be a witness and they don't want you
killing yourself. Apparently we aren't at home enough to keep an eye on you. I don't know why the
FBI is investigating you and your father but I believe you're innocent. Your father says he didn't do
anything and I believe him. It's only until the investigation ends. Then you can come home to live
with us. Please believe me, Dimitri. We tried to keep you but they won't let us, not until they're sure
you're not going to kill yourself. Here… come…"
She's pulling me by the hand now, leading me to my bed and her words echo in my head. The FBI is
investigating us. It's over. We're going to be arrested… me and my father… and Beth will be safe. I
guess that's all that matters. Beth will be safe. My life is over and she doesn't have the slightest idea.
She is still talking. She sounds so genuine, so sincere. She sounds like she really cares about me.
Why? I don't matter. She should've let me die. My life is over anyway. "An FBI agent will be here
to pick you up soon but I wanted to give you your surprise before he does. Your father and I went to
a lot of effort to choose her so I hope they let you keep her. She'll keep you company until you can
come home. I had to sneak her in past security." Beth is holding out a box, a shy look of anticipation
upon her features. She's waiting for me to take the box and accept the gift she and my father picked
out for me. I don't want it. I don't want anything from my father, but she looks so hopeful, so eager
for my happiness.
I reach out, carefully taking the box from her and look inside…
My breath catches in my throat…
Pitch black…
A tiny spot of pitch black occupies the box…
A puppy…
It's a pitch black puppy that I swear would fit into the palm of my hand. I didn't know puppies could
be that small and am convinced it's not real. I cautiously reach into the box in disbelief and touch it.
It yawns, tiny white teeth and pale pink tongue contrasting with its pitch black fur. It's alive! "She's
a miniature Toy Pomeranian." Beth explains softly, her warm sympathetic gaze meeting the sheer
disbelief in mine. "Your father told me you never had a pet and I think that's sad. Every child should
have at least one pet so I asked him if I could buy her for you." It's a puppy. My surprise is a puppy
from Beth. She wasn't bought with blood money. My puppy was not bought with blood money. I am
so relieved that I could cry.
I reach into the box again and gently pick up the little dog, cradling her in my arms. She's so small,
so fragile. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her. I can't accept her. I hold the puppy out to Beth, hoping
she'll understand my silent message and take the puppy from me. My throat is thick with emotion
and unshed tears. I don't know what to think, what to feel and my chest aches. Beth bought me a
puppy… but… I can't… I can't accept it. I don't deserve it. I can't look after it. I might hurt it.
Beth shakes her head and reaches towards me again, cradling my hands in hers. She's not taking the
puppy from me. She's moving my arms back to my chest making sure that I cradle the puppy
securely. "No." She shakes her head. "She's yours, Dimitri. Please look after her. She'll love you no
matter what." Beth's words are spoken softly and she drops a kiss upon my forehead before stepping
back. "I bought you a few things that you might need for your puppy and packed some of your
belongings in a bag." She points at a second box and a luggage bag. "I want you to know that we'll
be waiting for you, we…. Oh…"
I blink in confusion when Beth rather abruptly stops speaking. She looks surprised and is looking at
something behind me. The lump of emotion weighing heavily on my chest solidifies along with the
one in my throat. Profound fear thick within me, I turn. I don't want to face what awaits me but
know there's no choice. There's no escape for me, no redemption, no forgiveness. The time of
consequence is upon me and it's standing in the doorway to my hospital room. My eyes go wide and
my breath hisses through my barely parted lips.
Kia.

In the meaning of a name

Kia's come to pick me up. I really don't want to go anywhere with Beau's brother. He scares me. He
knows far too much and he doesn't like me. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at me and
the knowledge makes me sick. I am nauseous, my entire body is shaking and every step I take is a
battle of wills between my mind and my body. I think I'm going to pass out but… I can't. The box
with the puppy in it is still in my arms and I'm responsible for her well being. I can't allow myself to
pass out, to hurt her.
My bag weighs heavily upon my shoulder dragging me down as I walk behind Kia. Kia is carrying
the second box that according to Beth contains things for the puppy… for… my puppy? No! She's
not mine. I can't think of her as belonging to me. I'm only temporarily looking after her until Beth
takes her back. I can't afford to get attached. It'll destroy me. Damn Kia for saying I can keep her!
Beth is walking beside us and is currently glaring daggers at Kia. She is being protective of me. I
can see it in the way she moves and in the way she keeps subtly placing herself between Kia and I,
like a dog guarding her pup. It's a naive action, a foolish sentiment that reveals her true innocence.
Little does she know that it's not me that requires protection, it's her.
Kia halts beside a black car and raises a pointed eyebrow at Beth. He's waiting for her to leave and
pointedly dismissing her. Beth ignores him. She opens the door and reaches for the puppy in my
arms, sliding the box carefully into the car before turning to me once again. She embraces me, her
warmth and the scent of lilacs invading my senses for but a moment before she withdraws, running
her fingers through my hair as if attempting to tame the wild strands that always seem to do
whatever they please. "If anything happens… if they mistreat you…" Here she glares at Kia. He's
completely unfazed by her look. "Send me a message and I'll come pick you up, wherever you may
be." Leaning forward she whispers the rest in my ear, "There's a cell phone in your bag with my
number saved on it." She drops a feather light kiss onto my forehead and turns to leave, leaving me
alone to face the reality of my nightmare, the scent of lilacs but a memory.
I'm taken to Beau's home. I repeat; I am at Beau's home, right next door to my father and Beth. It
doesn't make sense. Why refuse to let me go home only to make me live right next door. Is it just
me or is someone's sense of logic messed up here? So it's me they want to keep an eye on. They
don't want me to kill myself and the best way to accomplish that is to watch me 24/7? But why
Beau? I don't want Beau to see me like this, to know the true depth of my sins. It isn't fair! I hate
Murphy with every fibre of my being!
Kia takes my belongings and places them in one of the spare bedrooms. The bedroom is situated
right beside Beau's room. The message is clear. This is where I'll be staying and I have no say in the
matter. Why me? Why now? Why next to Beau of all people? Kia turns to me and his gaze is cold
and sends a chill right through me. I shift, swallow nervously and look away. I simply cannot meet
Kia's gaze without flinching. He knows I'm guilty and I feel naked beneath his gaze, stripped of
everything that may hide my guilt, exposed and torn. "I just want you to know that this isn't my
idea." I jump at the sound of his voice. This is the first thing he's said to me all morning. "I don't
want my brother involved with you. You're going to hurt him and Beau can't afford to get hurt like
that. Not again."
I wince, every word he says cutting me to the core. He knows what I am, knows that I'm tainted and
that I'll probably hurt Beau. It's inevitable. He knows and hates me for it. I clench my eyes shut and
wait for the accusations, for the barrage of words that are sure to follow but they don't. What he
does say next surprises me. "You're going to be staying here until I can figure out what to do with
you. I'd like to be able to protect you but at the moment I don't have a leg to stand on. Not without
your co-operation. We can put your father away for a very long time and if you don't help us we can
put you away along with him. I want you to think about that." With that, he's gone, leaving me alone
with my belongings, the puppy still in my grasp.
***
I've unpacked the box from Beth and am absently patting the sleeping puppy when Beau gets home
from school. He walks right into this room obviously expecting me to be here. He grins at me and
drops down beside me, his school bag still on his shoulders. "Hey." His greeting is awkward but
filled with happiness.
I reluctantly glance up at him. My throat is thick with dread and pain and I don't know what to say.
What am I supposed to say? I tried to kill myself. Even though Beau has been doing his best to try
and help me I tried to kill myself and I'd do it again. I still want to die. He hasn't said anything but I
know he's disappointed. Kia is right. No matter what I do I am going to hurt him. He's going to hate
me when he finds out the truth, when he finds out what I've done. So knowing all that what do I
say?
"We missed you at school." Beau speaks again, his tone softer, more serious. He's ignoring my lack
of response. "Alex was moping. He looked lonely and Laura asked about you." I blink surprised at
Beau's words. Laura asked about me? Why would Laura of all people ask about me?
'I think Alex hates me.' I sign, resisting the urge to ask about Laura. I doubt he'll be able to give me
a decent response anyway. Laura strikes me as the kind of person that does things for reasons of her
own. Reasons she's unlikely to share. Alex on the other hand… I don't think he ever wants to see me
again, not after his visit to my hospital room.
"No Dimitri, he doesn't hate you." Beau contradicts me shaking his head. "He's hurt and he's
worried about you. We all are." I bite my lip to keep from crying, to keep from breaking. Beau's
words… their honesty… their meaning. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve any of it. I'm stained,
black as sin. I don't deserve to have someone, anyone worry about me. It's better if they hate me!
Why won't Beau just hate me and let me go? Like Alex. Alex hates me. Beau's wrong, he has to hate
me and soon he will hate me too. They'll all hate me when they find out what I have done.
"Anyway," Beau's soft voice is once again filled with happiness and tears me from my morbid
thoughts. He leans back against the bed and smiles at me, obviously changing the subject. "Miss
Davenport loved out art project. We got an A+ and she wants to send it to an exhibition."
What? I'm hearing things. I must be hearing things because it can't be possible. Beau couldn't
possibly have said what I think he just said. There is no way. 'But we never finished it.' I sign,
voicing my confusion. I know that Beau had a plan. He said he had a plan but there's no way that he
could have finished it without me. Not unless he stayed up all night, not unless he copied my
painting style! Wait a minute. He didn't… he couldn't have…
"Exactly."
What? Wait, now I'm officially confused. Did Beau just say exactly? So he didn't finish it? He
handed it in incomplete!? And it got an A+!? I must be missing something here. 'Exactly?' I sign in
confusion. I need clarification. I need him to tell me what he means because I truly don't
comprehend how this could be possible.
"Yup. Exactly." Beau repeats winking at me. Worst of all that's all he says. Not a word less. Not a
word more, and from the expression on his face I can see that it is all he's willing to say on the
matter.
I'm about to protest, about to demand that he tell me what on earth is going on when Murphy
chooses to once again interfere with my life. A high pitched whine draws Beau's attention away
from me and to the box lying before me. My puppy, correction the puppy is awake and crying. "Is
that a puppy?" Beau reaches towards the box sounding incredulous. "When did you get a puppy?"
He's reaching into the box and taking her out, cradling her in his hands. His hands are so big and the
puppy's so small. She practically drowns within them but calms, seemingly pleased with the warmth
of his touch. It is a sentiment I can well understand. I like the warmth of his touch as well and for a
moment… for only a moment… I'm envious.
'Beth gave her to me this morning.' I sign reluctantly, in response.
"It's a female? She's beautiful." Beau exclaims tickling the puppy behind her ears. "What did you
name her?"
What did I name her? He wants to know what I named her. I can't name her! I'm not keeping her! 'I
didn't.' I sign and somehow I know; I just know; that it's the wrong thing to say.
My suspicion is immediately confirmed. Beau's eyes go wide and he looks shocked. "You haven't
named her! How can you not name her?" He exclaims before turning to the puppy in his hands.
"He's mean. How can he not even give a cute little thing like you a name?" He's speaking to the
puppy, asking her the question as if she can actually understand him, as if she can actually respond!
And then looks right back into my eyes, expectantly.
'What difference does it make?' I sign in agitation. How can he judge me, look at me like that when
he doesn't even understand me? He doesn't even know why I don't want to give her a name. 'What
point is there in giving her a name when I cannot speak? I'll never be able to call her?'
"You will be able to speak." Beau retorts, pure conviction in his tone, conviction so sure that it
leaves me speechless, unable to gain enough control over myself and my hands to even attempt to
protest. "And she needs a name so you can call her. She's alive and needs a name."
I don't want to acknowledge her by giving her a name. I never wanted to acknowledge anyone. Not
Beau, not Alex, not Beth, not Layla and not even Laura or Kia. I never wanted to acknowledge any
of them and now… because of them, my life is falling apart. My secret is coming out and my very
soul is shattered. What more does he want from me? Isn't it already enough? 'I'm not keeping her.' I
sign in admission. I can't hide from Beau. No matter what I try, where I turn, he's there, reaching
out, searching, looking and forever demanding that I feel, react and maybe live.
I blink at the sudden heat surrounding my hands and realise that Beau's dropped the tiny puppy into
them. He's cupping my hands, supporting them, making sure that I don't drop the tiny life I now
quite literally hold in the palms of my hands. His eyes are searching, looking deep into me,
searching for something. "You are keeping her, Dimitri. She's a special gift and you can't give her
back. You can't abandon her. She needs you. Please give her a name."
I cannot deny Beau. He is my Achilles heel, the weakness of my soul and there's little that I can
deny him. Not when he's looking directly into my soul, the fire of his touch coursing through my
veins making me giddy, making me want. I want to make him happy and want to wipe that sadness
from his gaze because he doesn't deserve to be sad. He does not deserve me. So I give him what he
wants. It's so little after all. A name I'll never be able to call anyway. Only one name comes to
mind….For Beth and for Beau. So I begin to sign.
'L'
'I'
'L'
'A'
'C'

Awkward beginning? Beginning of the end?

Beau's upset with me. I can see it in the way he moves, in the way he looks at me and in the agitated
flow of his hands when he forgets himself and signs absently. He's upset with me because I don't
want to eat. I'm not hungry. My stomach is all twisted up in knots and I feel like I'm going to be
sick. I can't stop thinking about my father… about Beth… about Kia and most of all about me and
the part I had to play in all of this.
Beau say's that Layla wants to see me. Apparently she asked him about me when he went down to
fetch supper. I cannot go down there. I cannot face Layla. I cannot face Beau's mother, his father but
worst of all I cannot face Kia. I simply can't face that knowing look that seems to know all my
deepest and darkest secrets, accusing me, waiting for me to slip, fall and hurt Beau. The very
thought heightens the anxiety that seems to have taken up permanent residence within me
consequently tightening the muscles in my stomach and making me even less likely to eat. It's a
vicious circle of action and reaction, locked in unavoidable battle and consequence, all of which
builds up to one main result, Beau is mad at me and currently sending me pointed looks which I am
desperately trying to ignore.
I'm still seated upon the cream carpet floor watching Lilac waddle. Yes, she waddles, she does not
walk. She doesn't seem to realise that she can actually bend her paws and sways from side to side as
she walks. Her black fur is a stark contrast to the cream white colour of the carpet. It's not cute! So
don't you even dare suggest it is! It's just a black dot marring the perfect cream of the carpet as it
moves. I'm not attached. I'm not watching her as she waddles and most certainly not watching her as
she crouches down and… No! Not the carpet!
Horror is a very good energy shot, believe you me, because a mere instant later I've picked Lilac up
off the carpet only to realise I have absolutely no idea what to do next. My reaction may have been
fast but it was not fast enough. Lilac has just peed all over the too perfect cream carpet. Okay,
maybe not quiet all over it but with the way this carpet screams expensive, she may as well have.
What am I going to do now?
It takes Beau a moment to realise exactly what's going on. He looks rather puzzled to see me staring
at him in fear, probably looking very much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
Lilac has just done something very bad and it's my fault. Beau's eyes flicker from my face to the
wriggling puppy in my hands and back to my face again and then he bursts out into full blown
laughter. Laughter I tell you. Beau is laughing and I swear…. This is not a laughing matter. Is he
missing something here? I mean, Lilac just peed on their nice expensive cream carpet and he's
laughing?
"Give me a minute." Beau says, still laughing. He gets up off the floor and with his books still
scattered around leaves the bedroom without another word. Yes, even though he's mad at me he is
or more accurately was still in the room with me. He decided to do his homework here so he could
spend more time with me. Another of his strange reactions in my opinion because logically
speaking who wants to spend more time with someone they're mad at?
I'm still awkwardly clutching the wiggling puppy when Beau returns with salt, a bowl of water
smelling like antiseptic, a cloth, a dustpan and a brush, all of which he juggles with ease. Maybe he
should join a circus. People actually pay to see someone juggle that much around. Setting
everything down, he kneels beside the evidence of Lilac's transgression and scatters a small amount
salt onto it. "This will soak it up and then we can sweep it away and wash it clean. I'd recommend
that you take her out though, else she's going to do it again and if she pees outside praise her."
Praise her? Hold on a minute, how exactly am I supposed to praise her when I don't have a voice?!
Beau reads my mind, or more accurately interprets the disbelief upon my face. He smiles at me and
shrugs before answering my unvoiced question. "I'm sure you will find a way." And so begins my
rather busy night of dog care.
***
I'm exhausted, well and truly worn out. Lilac kept me up all night crying for attention and warmth.
When I finally gave in and placed her on the bed with me she kept waking me intermittently and I
had to keep taking her out for fear of a repeat incident. Every time she pees outside I scratch her
behind the ears and she seems to love that. I'm not quite sure if that's what Beau meant when he said
I'd find a way but logically, without a voice, it seems to be the only thing I can do. I can only hope
that it'll work. Beau refuses to help me. He says that Lilac belongs to me and I should look after her.
I don't quiet see it that way but there's nothing I can do about it. I can't exactly just let her cry.
As a result of being up most of last night, I'm half asleep as I walk down the school hallway.
Exhausted as I am, I am relieved. I've escaped Lilac and her demands for attention. She keeps
making me wish I could keep her. Beau's mother promised to take care of her while I'm at school so
why then do I have the sudden urge to turn around to go check on a puppy I want nothing to do
with? I guess insanity really is contagious.
The first person I see is Alex. Even though he's able to blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed I
can't seem to miss him. It's almost as if my very gaze is meant to seek him and only him out. I don't
want to see him. I don't know what to say to him and turn, intending to walk away, fully intending
to hide. Beau, it seems, has other ideas. He grabs my arm and without uttering a single word pulls
my protesting body to the last place it wants to go.
Silence.
Now this is awkward with a capital A! Scratch that, make it with all capitals. Alex is still angry and
the awkward silence between us is beginning to eat away at what little courage I still have. Yes, I
know that Beau dragged me over to Alex and that this confrontation has little to do with any
courage I myself may possess. I don't know what to do. Alex is mad at me for doing something I'll
gladly do again. I can't apologise for something I don't regret. I regret failing but I don't regret
trying. It's lesser than the evil that still awaits me.
Alex's brown gaze searches my face and the silence between us threatens to suffocate me.
Thankfully, the silence is broken. No, not by Alex or me, because I have a feeling we could spend
all afternoon staring at each other, but by Beau. "Oh, come on! The two of you should get over it."
His frustration is clearly audible in his tone. "What's done is done. You guys can't let this ruin your
friendship. He needs you Alex. You can't abandon him now that he needs you the most." What on
earth is Beau saying? I don't need him. I don't need anyone! Unfortunately, however, my protest
remains unvoiced, me being mute and all. Neither Beau nor Alex are paying any attention to me and
that limits my sign language somewhat.
Beau is looking at Alex and something in Beau's gaze must have told Alex something because the
next thing I know the tension fades from the air. Alex relaxes and the anger drains from him,
leaving him looking sad. I think I prefer the anger. I don't want to see Alex sad and hurting. He
almost looks broken. I want to know what's wrong with him but cannot gather the courage to ask.
Not when some of the pain I see on his face is my fault.
Alex turns to me and gives me a wary smile. It's half hearted and seems to take a great deal of effort
but he smiles. Some kind of peace offering I think. He's still angry. He's still hurt and disappointed
by what I've done but he's willing to remain by my side. It doesn't make any sense whatsoever and
for once, I don't even try to make sense of it. What's the point? Trying to decipher Alex's and Beau's
motives will only give me a headache and leave me even more confused than ever. Instead, I try to
return the peace offering, the movement of my lips seeming alien twisting my features into a
foreign expression. I'm trying to smile and wonder if Alex realises it because I swear, if the feeling
in my facial muscles is anything to go by, it's more a grimace than anything else. Thankfully my
efforts are interrupted by shrill ringing.
I've never in my entire life been this relieved to hear shrill ringing in my head. Usually the sound is
a mere figment of my imagination, the echo of dying screams echoing through me. Occasionally it's
my mind actually registering the school bell. Either way, neither are pleasant prospects though to be
honest I prefer being at school than at home. Basically, ringing in my head is not usually a good
thing. This time though, I'm relieved to hear it for it seems to signal my salvation. Class is starting
and I now have an excuse to withdraw into myself and turn away from the pain I can see in Alex's
gaze.
Logically, I realise that I will have to face him again, and if Beau has anything to say about it sooner
rather than later. Probably during lunch I wager but for now I can escape accusation I see in his eyes
and the guilt that seems to haunt me. I'd do it again. I swear, I don't regret it. There's nothing Alex
and Beau can do to that could possibly make me change my mind.
I will do it again.
I will not become his victim nor will I take the fall for a decision in my life that was made for me.

Hard cold ground

Some things are better left unknown, hidden, never to see the light of day and others are best
avoided all together. One such thing or more specifically person is Laura. Thus far, in my
experience, confrontation with her is never a good thing. She always seems to have some kind of
hidden agenda and today's no different. She's managed to corner me in class and is currently sitting
on my desk. The look in her eyes disturbs me. There is something there, something hidden, a secret
that seems to haunt her almost as much as mine haunts me. Why did I not see it earlier?
"You know…" Laura begins and something in the tone of her voice sends a chill down my spine.
No, her voice is not filled with her usual sultry flirting, nor is it filled with the touch of arrogance
she has about her. Instead it's casual and if that doesn't ring warning bells then nothing can. "I
thought there was something vaguely familiar about you the first time I saw you." She pauses,
casually drawing abstract patterns upon my desk with her finger.
She's no longer looking at me. Something is seriously wrong and somehow it's something to do
with me. Looks like Murphy hates me more than I could've ever imagined, or is it loves me? Either
way, I really wish he'd leave me alone.
"I couldn't really pinpoint it." She's still speaking, her casual calm tone crawling across my skin, a
heavy weight settling upon me. I want her to stop. I want nothing more than for her to stop and not
say anything more because something tells me that I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear.
How can I be familiar to her? I don't know her, do I? I'd remember her, right? "It took me a while
but then I remembered."
Here she glances up at me and her eyes are boring their way into my very soul. Raising a knee she
rests her elbow onto it and cocks her head to the side, resting it in the palm of her hand. It's a casual
pose. My gut instinct tells me that it's too carefree. My gut instinct is confirmed by the words she
utters next. "You were there. You were at Aunt Makayla's funeral and before that at the wedding."
Makayla. One word. It's a word I never wanted to hear, not from the lips of another and especially
not from Laura. I'm deathly pale. I know I am. I can feel it. All the blood has rushed from my skin
leaving me cold, far, far colder than usual. Makayla is dead. She was the third wife to be claimed by
a cold heart and even colder earth and the only one to die a supposed natural death. Isn't poison a
wonderful thing? Now what?
I can hear myself screaming, my mind filled with turmoil and horror yet for some strange reason
this doesn't feel like it's happening to me. It can't be happening. I mean… what are the chances?
We're in another time, another state. Unfortunately it seems that it can, it can and it is…
"I don't believe that my aunt died of a heart attack." If you'd told me a moment ago that things can't
get worse you'd have been wrong. The last sentence hits me so hard that it may as well be a building
crashing down onto me. The weight of it, the sheer suffocating presence, overwhelms me and
threatens the last strand of sanity I still possess. The scream in my head is getting louder and I want
to release it. I want to set it free till the very sound of it tears my throat asunder but I can't… not
here… not now and probably not ever.
I'm going to be sick. Horrendously sick. I can't breathe, I can't think. I can feel my heartbeat
pounding in my head. Thump… thump, thump… thump… It's a painful beat that pounds
rhythmically into my head sending waves of pain through me. Please, anyone, this cannot be
happening to me. Why me? Why now? Why everything at once? Is this the price I must pay for my
sins? The price for the taint that lies upon me, for their lives and my silence? My awareness fades
and I can no longer see the classroom I am seated in, can no longer see the desk I am seated at and
thankfully can no longer see Laura and the accusation in her eyes. My ears take a bit longer to get
the message from my brain and I manage to hear a loud metallic crash as my body, a body I no
longer have any control over, falls to the hard, cold ground. A fitting resting place for me, don't you
think?
***
I'm floating again, strangely surrounded by warmth, a familiar scent and soft touch that makes no
sense to me. I 'm supposed to be upon the hard tile floor so what am I doing in his arms? I'm being
carried and he's holding me gently as if I mean the world to him. Why? Why is he here? Why is he
doing this?
Hold on a second! He's putting me down onto cool silken sheets. This material… it's so soft, so
cool, so smooth and so very familiar. Hold on just one minute! This can't be sick bay. The sheets
there are rough, course and rather stiff. What am I doing here? School cannot already be done! I
can't have been passed out for that long. Laura cornered me in second period! Might have
succeeded during first but I actually managed to dodge her then. So this doesn't make sense. I
cannot be where I think I am, surrounded by the familiar touch of his sheets, the familiar warmth of
his hands and his familiar scent, now can I?
This is a dream, it has to be a dream, some wild fantasy brought to the fore of mind and clearly
indicative of the sanity I've lost. I cannot still be sane. Not when I seem to be hallucinating, not
when I can feel his lips upon my skin, first on my forehead, then my eyes, my nose, my lips. He's
kissing me! Yet at the same time I know this can't be happening. I'm at school. He's not in my class.
He just can't be kissing me. Not again. Not when he doesn't have a reason to.
The touch is fleeting, soft and all too soon it's gone, fading along with his scent. My hallucination is
leaving and all that remains is the rather erotic caress of his silk sheets upon my skin. Wait a
minute! If my hallucination is gone, why can I still feel the silk sheets upon my skin?!
I fight the darkness that surrounds me, threatening to pull me into night, and desperately try to reach
for awareness once more. I want to know if he's here, if I'm dreaming or if I may have perhaps
finally lost my mind. It's this desire to know that helps that pulls my mind out of the foggy haze it's
trapped in and back into what may or may not be reality.
He's back. His very presence permeates the room, fills it and me with his scent and all of a sudden I
can once again feel the warmth radiating off of him. He's not touching me but is seated at my side,
doing something, reaching out for me only the warmth that touches my skin is not the warmth I
expected and startles me into opening my eyes. The warmth on my chest is fuzzy, soft and smells
suspiciously like a puppy. Lilac!
Beau has just dropped my puppy, no scratch that, um, the puppy, onto my chest! I glance up and
meet his gaze and though obviously filled with concern he's smiling at me. "I'm happy to see that
you're awake." Beau speaks softly and his hand runs through my hair. What is it with him and his
obsession with my hair? In case you've not yet noticed, he always seems to be touching it, running
his fingers through it and I cannot bring myself to ask him to stop.
'School?' I sign in confusion moving carefully so as not to disturb the puppy that seems to have
curled up on my chest and fallen asleep.
"Don't worry about it." Beau stretches as he speaks. "We got the rest of the day off. I called Kia and
he arranged for the both of us to come home." He grins at me. "Which, works for me. School can be
a drag. Coach is going to be mad when I miss practice today but that's okay." He speaks so casually,
almost as if this is something he does every day, almost as if school and the events there hold no
importance in his life. He lets himself drop down onto the bed right beside me, causing the bed to
bounce a little. The bouncing action causes my body to move towards him and the next thing I
know I'm pressed against his side with a very disgruntled puppy trying her best to glare at me. Little
fuzzy black spots like her can't actually glare. Nice try though.
Attempted glare accomplished she promptly curls up on my chest once more and effectively traps
me in place. I can't move. If I do, I'm sure to wake her again but on the other hand if I don't I'm
going to remain here, pressed against Beau's side, his heat burning into me and setting the blood in
my veins afire, a gathering of heat that almost seems to have only one thing in mind, hunger for
Beau's touch, Beau's claim, Beau's tongue thrusting into my mouth.
What is it about Beau, about his touch that makes me feel like this? It's strange, unpredictable and
more than a touch unsettling. It kind of reminds me of chemistry where specific mixtures of
chemicals are more prone to combust than others. Is that what's happening here? Between my skin
and Beau's? Is my skin reacting with his or is it only me? Is it only my imagination, some delusion
that heralds the eminent coming of the insanity that awaits me just around the corner?

Cracks
Beau has fallen asleep! How can he simply fall asleep when he's still pressed against me like this?
When my very skin is on fire because of him? This isn't fair! Does he not feel it? Is it then a mere
figment of my imagination? And to top things off, he's muttering! There truly is no rest for the
wicked is there? Wicked namely being me because there's absolutely no way that I can sleep with
Beau's skin touching mine like this, his soft voice in my ear and his warm breath sending shivers
through my body.
I could rant like this forever, really I could because the world is unjust and Murphy really does seem
to favour me above all others but unfortunately for me my inner rant is interrupted by the sound of
Beau's door opening. It's a soft creak that, if not for the silence currently in the room, would be
completely inaudible yet now seems to reverberate through me with the force of a bomb exploding.
Someone is coming in. Now what?! As usual, my mind is too slow and I'm barely given time to
react before it's too late. So it is that Kia finds me half seated, half lying, still on Beau's bed with
Beau's sleeping form beside me.
Kia does not look impressed to see me here. His eyes narrow with obvious displeasure. Looks like
I've once again managed to get on his bad side. Wait a minute! I never left his bad side. Oh well.
Such is life in the kingdom ruled by Murphy's Law, I suppose. 'I want to speak to you.' Kia signs.
He seems reluctant to wake Beau. 'Alone.' He adds glancing at Beau, then back at me, expectant,
obviously wanting me to understand his silent message. Unfortunately for me, I do understand and
hate him for it. He doesn't want Beau involved. I suppose I can understand that. What sane person
would want anyone involved in the mess that is now my life? But still, for some reason, a reason I
cannot seem to grasp, this realisation fills me with bitterness and hatred. Hatred directed at what? I
don't truly know. Perhaps Kia, circumstance, my father and I think, most of all myself.
I slip Lilac off my chest and place her beside Beau receiving a rather disgruntled look from her for
all my efforts. She gets over it rather quickly though and curls up into a tiny little black ball of fluff
now comfortably pressed against Beau in my stead. What I wouldn't I give to be her right now.
Slipping off the bed I silently follow Kia out to the room desperately trying to ignore the fear thick
in my throat. I don't want this confrontation. I know what's coming and I don't think I'm ready. I'll
never be ready.
Strangely enough, Kia guides me to the kitchen and gestures to a seat before busying himself beside
the counter. Now this really is strange. Ignoring the butterflies all demanding immediate release
from the confines of my stomach, I slide into the seat and wait. Waiting is one of the most painful
things one can do in life. It's excruciating. Especially when you know you're not waiting for
anything good.
Part of me wants this problem to disappear, to simply leave me alone and let me continue my life in
oblivious bliss. Okay, maybe not bliss because oblivion is something that always seems to be denied
me. Comparative peace might be a better term. If I compare my life before Beau came into it to the
chaos he's made of it now I have to admit that my life was comparatively more peaceful before I
met him. You know, the whole I may not have been happy but I was definitely happier debate? A
rather easy debate if I ignore the core question of course: Was I happier?
Another part of me, the part of my soul that screams for some kind of redemption, wants this to be
over already. Maybe then will I be granted some true peace? I guess there's no easy answer to this
conflict within me. Besides, I cannot change anything even if there were. I've already met Beau,
already had my life disrupted and my secret has already been torn from me so this debate is useless,
the pointless musings of a mind no longer sane and very much in denial. I cannot turn back time.
Kia turns away from the counter and slides a cup across the table towards me. I blink in surprise.
Standing before me is a cup of hot chocolate. Did Kia just make me a cup of hot chocolate? Is the
world coming to an end? His own cup in hand he seats himself across from me and cradling the cup
stares into it with the intensity of one searching for the meaning of life, love and everything else.
"I didn't do this by the book." Kia's soft words startle me and it takes me a moment to comprehend
what he's just said, only thing is… it doesn't make any sense. Am I missing something? Although
the individual words are English, he may as well be speaking Greek because the context makes no
sense to me. What did he not do by the book? "I want you to know that I only did it as a favour to
Beau." Kia continues. He's now looking at me, his eyes, as usual searching for something and his
words still make no sense. I think I may have just been transported to an alternative universe, one in
which Kia's clinically insane twin resides. "I cannot legally protect you unless I have information
that I can present to a judge indicating that you actually need protection. Do you understand what
I'm saying?"
No. I don't. I do not understand what he is saying at all. Why would anyone need to protect me?
And what does that have to do with him not doing something by the book? I'm forced to shake my
head in denial, too lost to truly comprehend what he may be referring to. I have a headache. I feel
sick and my stomach feels like it is trying to crawl up my oesophagus and to top things off Kia is
acting like an alien from another planet! Why can my life not be simple? I don't expect to have any
control over my life anymore but I would at least like to understand what's happening.
Kia is exasperated with me, annoyed with my lack of understanding but I can't help it, not when he's
speaking gibberish! He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, obviously trying to gather himself.
Dropping his hand tries again. "I lied to your father. I can't legally take you out of your home, not
without evidence that supports the fact that you need to be removed from your parents care. I don't
have that kind of evidence. I need you to give it to me."
This is what I've been waiting for. Kia wants me to tell him what I know, wants me to reveal the
details and intricacies of the dark secret I hold but I can't. Not even for the protection he seems to be
offering me, the protection he seems to already be giving me when he has no legal grounds to do so.
He's going to get into trouble for this. I'm not supposed to be here. I am supposed to be there, with
him, trapped in darkness and in sin. Kia lied to protect me. Why? Why did he lie when he hates me?
He has to hate me. He's always cold to me, always threatening me, always protective of Beau. He's
doing this… for Beau.
I shake my head in denial. I cannot accept this, I cannot be here. I need to leave this house, need to
go back. I cannot let Kia lose this job over this. I'm not worth it. I'm only going to end up hurting
Beau. I know it. Kia knows it so why is he going this to me?! I get up about to leave, about to run
and return to my father when Kia's touch upon my skin stops me. He's holding my wrist firmly in
his hand, his hard determined gaze upon my face. "Sit down." Kia's voice is firm and the authority
in it demands immediate obedience, obedience my body seems to fall into without giving my mind
a chance to think twice about it.
He doesn't release my wrist when I am seated trapping me in place, his touch upon me restraining
my body and his eyes my mind. "I didn't go to all that effort only to have you ruin it. You will stay
here. As much as I may disagree with this arrangement it's what Beau wants and I won't have you
hurt him because of your self-pity and impulsiveness. This is serious, Dimitri. This isn't a game."
His words hit me with a force that I should be getting accustomed to but how can one get used to
being hit over and over again? I'm angry. I am so angry I can't think straight and that's not good. I
can't afford to make mistakes, not now, not when everything I am, everything that defines me hangs
in the balance. Unfortunately, with my defences shattered and cutting into my soul, there is little I
can do about my current loss of control. 'You think I don't know that?' I sign angrily, pulling my
hand out of his grasp in order to do so. 'You think I don't know that I am screwed up? That my life
is over! You think I wanted things to be like this? I never asked you or Beau to interfere! I never
asked anyone to interfere with my screwed up excuse of a life so leave me alone already! Just let
me die already!' Please tell me I did not just sign that.
I did! I must have because Kia looks utterly and completely horrified. He doesn't know what to say
and the silence that settles between is awkward, filled with tension and so many other emotions,
emotions I can't even begin to name. Kia licks his lips nervously, watching me carefully and I can
almost see the gears in his mind turn as he searches, floundering about for a response. It's a strange
experience, seeing the usually confident Kia uncertain and at a loss. He recovers rather well. "It's
not that simple, Dimitri." He finally manages to find something to say and his words cut into me.
"This isn't only about you. It's never been only about you. This is about all those women that your
father killed and about their families. Families that were robbed of someone they loved. This is
about Beau and all those who care for you. I don't care how you feel about it because it's already too
late. They care, damn it, and you're going to hurt them all! Killing yourself isn't going to save
anyone! Not those that have already died, not those that care about you and not those that are still
going to die because we can't put your father where he belongs! Behind bars!"
I am torn, broken and shattered. I know Kia has a point. I know he's right. This is not only about me
but I can't what I've seen, what I've done because if I do it would mean admitting I had the power to
stop this long ago and chose not to. I've lived my whole life in this nightmare. How can there
possibly be any escape for me? 'I can't' I sign and if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, I've
just signed my own way into an obituary.
Kia sighs, the sound deep and all consuming, eyes filled with sadness and regret. "Then there's little
I can do for you, Dimitri. My hands are tied. We're not going to drop this investigation. I know he
killed them. You know he killed them. And I know that you know something about it. Keeping
silent about it makes you an accessory to the crime." Kia pauses, his every word a blade that cuts
into me, making me bleed. He knows my deepest darkest secret. He knows the stain of my guilt.
"I don't believe you played an active part in killing them. Regardless of what Beau may think, I'm
not stupid and realise that you were six when your mother was killed but I also know that you know
something. I need you to tell me what you know so I can protect you, so I can protect my brother
from this. I'm willing to protect you from the consequences of your father's actions, both for your
sake and for Beau's sake but I can't do it without your co-operation. You know how he did it. Your
silence confirms as much so as I see it, you have one of two choices right now. You can choose to
break that silence and assist us consequently preventing this from happening again or you can
choose to remain silent. Should you choose the latter, you'll go to court along with your father
when, and I say when not if, we find the evidence we need. Choose well, choose wisely and choose
soon. You're running out of time." Kia's eyes are hard and cold, filled with determination and the
look in them sends a chill down my spine.
Kia is not going to let this slide but I guess I never really expected him to. He wouldn't be Kia if he
did. He's determined to see this through and part of me is surprised that he's willing to give me a
choice to begin with. Why bother in the first place? Why bother offering me protection when both
he and I know that I'm already stained with guilt of one kind or another? Why offer redemption for
something unforgivable? It doesn't make sense and I have no idea how I'm meant to respond to this.
Silence…
It temporarily continues to shroud my secret but now the voices of the dead can no longer be stilled.
My secret can no longer remain hidden in deep in the darkness of my silence.

Decision
I have yet to tell Kia anything. I know this secret can no longer remain in the dark but I still don't
know what to do. I need to tell him what I know so that I may perhaps save Beth… Beth who I was
never supposed to care about to begin with. I hate her. I hate the fact that I don't want her to die. I
hate her for coming into my life and disrupting it so. By the same rights, I hate Beau, Alex, Layla
and Laura. I hate all of them for making me feel, hate them for bringing me to this place and the
inevitable choice that I now have to make.
Kia has agreed to give me a little more time. Two days. No more, no less. It's not enough but I guess
eternity wouldn't be enough either. Not for this. I should tell him. I can save them, those he has yet
to meet. I can save them all. I'm doomed anyway. I'm dead anyway so I may as well do something
worthwhile before I die. Redemption. No, I'm not aiming for redemption. There is no redemption
for me. It's only right that I should join all those I've betrayed in cold damp earth.
Two days. I have two days to make a choice. My choice has already been made. All that remains is
a plan. What will I tell him? How will I tell him? Where will I start? Most importantly of all, how
will I kill myself once I'm done? I cannot fail again. There's no more room for failure. Retribution is
at hand and my time has come. I have to accept it. I'm forced to accept it. There is no other choice,
no escape from this and the realisation is bitter. I can actually taste it on the tip of my tongue and it
makes me sick.
I'm startled by a touch upon my skin and nearly fall to the ground. I hadn't expected a touch, not
when Kia left, not when I expected to be alone with my thoughts so it frightens me, bringing to fore
everything I fear. The touch upon my arm is Layla, trying to draw my attention. How did I miss the
sound of her wheel chair entering the kitchen? 'Are you alright?' Layla signs, her brow furrowed in
concern.
'Yes I'm alright.' I sign in response. She doesn't believe me. I can see it in her gaze but I can't tell her
that I'll never be alright. How can anyone be alright when they know that death's cold embrace
awaits them? Let me tell you one thing. It's terrifying. Regardless of the fact that I've made this
decision in and of my own free will, it's still terrifying. The unknown naturally instils fear into
humanity and nothing more so than the thought of death. I mean, what happens afterwards? Will I
be judged for my life? Will I burn for the rest of eternity? I guess it would only be fair. Considering
what I've done.
Layla doesn't respond. She simply watches me in the silence I've so become accustomed to, my
sanctuary. It's a sanctuary that's bound to crumble and fall, because the only way to truly keep a
secret hidden: is not to know it at all. I know that. I've always known that but have chosen to ignore
it. One cannot afford to concern oneself with the inevitable future. It would have driven me mad
long ago if I had.
She's touching me again. Her hand is moving up my arm, towards me head and then she pulls me
down, towards her and into an awkward silent embrace. The embrace is fleeting, a mere moment
and then it's gone. Layla watches me and reaches into a vase of flowers beside her. She pulls out a
tiny white flower and hands it to me. I grip the flower in confusion. Why is she giving me a flower?
'It's a snowdrop.' She signs carefully, telling me what the flower I hold is. Then without another
word, she turns around and wheels herself out, leaving me once again alone with my thoughts. Why
did she give me a snowdrop?
***
I'm making my way up the stairs and back to Beau's room when the sound of raised voices filters
into my mind. Beau is arguing with Kia and the angry words draw me a touch closer. I'm not
eavesdropping! I simply want to know more about Beau and I can't help but hear the words he
exchanges with Kia through the closed bedroom door. They're not exactly trying all that hard to
keep their voices down. "It's my life Kia! I can choose to do whatever I please with it!" Beau's voice
is filled with so much anger. It's not like him and the very sound of it pains me to hear.
"I can't have you getting involved with him, Beau!" Kia's voice, though loud, is firm. It's far calmer
than Beau's. Beau seems to have already lost control of his temper and Kia is trying to reason with
him. Doesn't he know that one cannot reason with someone who is angry? Doesn't Kia realise that
reason doesn't apply when one is ruled by emotion? It's why I try so hard to fight my emotions. Kia
is talking about me. There's no doubt in my mind about that. I already know how he feels about me.
"You can't tell me to stay away from him, Kia! It's my life!" The rage in Beau's voice courses
through me, stirring conflicted emotions within me. The part of me I barely recognise of late is
pleased. It's relieved to know that he's defending me and his relationship with me. The more rational
part of me is terrified. He shouldn't be doing this. Not for me. I'm not worth the anger and loss of
control.
"It may be your life, Beau, but I can't just stand aside and watch you ruin it! Not again. Not after
Mathew!" Mathew? Who's Mathew? What does he have to do with this? What exactly is going on
here? Kia is angry, just as angry as Beau and he too is losing his composure. I can hear it in his
voice. "I never want to see you that screwed up again, Beau!"
A loud bang reverberates through the room and I jump, fighting down the whimper of terror that
begs to be released. What have they done? Why is everything so silent all of a sudden? All I can see
is blood, Beau, Kia lying in a pool of blood, the other, standing above a look of horror upon their
face. Please, please not Beau…oh, please…. You didn't… he didn't. Oh, please, no. Not again.
Please don't do this to me again. I clamp my hand over my mouth, barely catching the cry of despair
that begs for release, a cry I cannot give voice to.
It's only when the voices resume once more that I realise I've been rocking back and forth, my mind
and body at war, the pain and fear within me fighting for expression. I'm on the floor, curled in upon
myself with no recollection as to how I got here but I'm relieved. Beau is speaking again which
means he's not dead and neither is Kia. "Mattie has nothing to do with this." His voice is cold, hard
and reminds me of the time he defended me against Kia that first night I met Kia.
"Mathew has everything to do with this." Kia retorts. "He messed with you, Beau! He messed with
the artsy little gay kid for laughs and in doing so tore you apart. He has everything to do with this! I
don't want you to go through that kind of pain again! I don't want to see you like that again, Beau!
So don't you dare say he doesn't have anything to do with this!" This isn't happening. Did Kia just
say? I don't understand, what does this mean? It can't be? Beau is gay?
"Mattie is dead, Kia! He's dead!" Beau is once again losing control of his cool. Beau is hurting. I
can hear the raw pain in his ragged breath and wish I could do something about it. Something
happened to him in the past, something bad and he's still hurting.
"And my brother died with him!" Kia retorts. Wait a second? Kia's brother died? Because of
someone called Mathew? Someone whom Beau was involved with? I didn't know there was another
brother? I'm confused.
"I'm not dead!" What? Kia was referring to Beau?
"Really? Come on Beau, who are you kidding? Football? Since when are you interested in football?
When did the boy that loved his guitar and his art more than life itself become captain of the
football team? Mom says you don't draw or play anymore, not unless it's an assignment for school.
Before all of this with Dimitri began, you didn't even spend any time at home. You were always out
and you don't even have a stable group of friends anymore. You even started dating girls, Beau!
Since when have you been into girls? Just looks at your room for crying out loud! What happened
to all those pictures! How can you tell me the brother I knew is not dead when little trace of him
seems to remain?!"
Silence. Kia's response is met by silence and that silence is more telling than any loud words could
ever be. Kia hit a nerve. Something happened to Beau. Something so bad that it changed him, made
him into the person he currently is, a person full of enigmas and conflicting signals. It all suddenly
makes sense. It suddenly makes sense to me why a jock, the captain of the football team is in art
class, why he owns a guitar and seems to take music class, why nothing he does seems to fit the
usual stereotypes at all.
The moment of silence stretches on, playing upon my nerves. I want to know what happened and
what it all means to Beau, to Kia and strangely enough, to me. "I loved him, Kia." Beau's voice is
but a whisper and I have to strain my ears to hear it. "I loved him with all my heart and regardless of
what he did to me. I didn't want him to die." Beau's voice is thick, heavy with pain, filled with
unshed tears. It's a sound I would recognise anywhere and seems to reverberate through my soul. I
want to reach out to comfort him, but cannot. My hands are stained by blood and I will only bring
ruin upon him.
I cannot remain here anymore. Knowing what Beau has already been through I can't in good
conscious remain here. I can't subject him to the pain I can hear in his voice. The pain inflicted upon
him by Mattie. Kia is right. Only pain awaits anyone who gets involved with me. Silently I stand
and make my way downstairs. My decision is made.
I step out into the cool evening air and absently wonder where all the time has gone. The day has
passed me by in a blur of conflict and emotion and has now apparently come to an end. Fitting I
guess. Rather symbolic even, that I leave in the dark of night. Darkness to hide my sin and darkness
to symbolise the beginning of the end. Truly fitting.
And so it begins.
Stained red with blood
Something's not quite right. Let me rephrase that, something is horribly and viciously wrong. I can
feel it in the very air. I don't want be here but I have nowhere else to go. Beau and Kia are going to
wonder where I've gone but I cannot go back. I can't allow either of them to get involved with me.
So here I am, back at the place I'll never be able to call home, back within my father's clasp, only,
there's something in the air. Silence, anticipation, shadow and sin and I know that something has
gone terribly wrong.
I reach for the door handle and turn it, resisting the urge to wince when the door creaks open. Why
does it choose to creak now? I'm already on edge! I don't need any assistance in that department,
thank you very much. Right… hear the hysterical laughter in my head. This is not helping! I can't
afford to lose control! Not now, please not now when I just know that something's not right.
Swallowing past the lump of fear thick in my throat I take a step forward my eyes desperately
searching the rather open space. Something is wrong, damn it! But what? I don't want to know, but I
need to… I need to know what he's done this time. Please let it not be true. Please let this feeling of
dread, this damned premonition that something has gone wrong not be true. Please let Beth be
alright. Then… I see her… slumped upon the ground. Beth! No… please… please… nooooo…
please… not Beth!
I'm running, moving as fast as I physically can, desperate to get to her side. What happened? Why is
she slumped upon the floor? And most importantly of all where is he? I know he has something to
do with this, damn it! Where is he! "I see you made it." I freeze, already upon my knees, my hand
stretched out towards Beth. I found him. Or rather, he found me. My father's voice is light. It's
always like this. Casual. How can he be so casual? I hate him!
Rage, hatred and bitterness swell up within me and my body begins to tremble. I hate him! Why did
it take me so long to realise I hate him! I hate him with every fibre of my being! I want him gone. I
want him gone from my sight and gone from my life! I want all of this to stop! I want him dead!
He's killing Beth, sweet, sweet Beth. Beth who gave me her grandfather's treasured panpipes, Beth
who gave me a puppy, gave me Lilac. He's killing her. She may already be dead and here I am, once
again, powerless to do anything against him. Why am I so powerless to do anything about it? I want
this to stop. I want to kill him but I can't. I cannot bring myself to lash out against him.
I flinch back, away from Beth, suddenly afraid to touch her. She could already be dead. He may
already have killed her but I don't understand why. Why is he doing this? It's too soon! He hasn't
married her yet! Why is he doing this when he hasn't married her yet?! Why is he doing this when
the FBI are probably watching him? It doesn't make any sense. "I was just about to call them and
ask if the son I love so much can come back to me." My father is whispering in my ear and his
warm breath burns my skin, burns the chill deep within me. I'm trembling, violent shudders
coursing through my body and I'm losing control. My very sanity is slipping through my fingers and
there's nothing I can do about it except watch, watch as it slips beyond my reach. "They did take
you away from me illegally, after all."
I can feel every word, every breath and the trembling in my body keeps getting worse. I have no
control, my very muscles have betrayed me and the violent shudders betray the deep seated fear the
now consumes me. I'm scared. I am bloody terrified because something… something is horribly and
viscously wrong. "You betrayed me." His whisper sends dread right into the pit of my stomach.
"You told them. You betrayed me. How could you betray me after everything that I've done for
you?!" Insanity… my father's voice is tinged with it. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back,
exposing my throat as he does so and now I can see him. The sight is something I never want to see
again. I can see the insanity. I can see the gleam of madness in his eyes and I know my father has
finally lost his mind.
Cold, deep chill lines my throat and this time it doesn't originate from within me. Cold steel at my
throat. He's going to kill me. My father is going to kill me! I've failed. There's no escape for me.
Why did I ever think there was? Whatever possessed me to think that I have control over any aspect
of my own life? Whatever possessed me to think that I may decide upon my own time, place and
method of death? Fate is not that kind and Murphy… Murphy loves me most. I am going to become
his victim.
"Such beautiful, silken skin. I wonder what it will look like stained by blood." Suddenly it burns,
my throat burns and I can feel a trickle of warm liquid run down to gather at the hollow of my
throat. I'm going to die. My body spasms seeming to have an epileptic fit, my control completely
gone. I can hear a scream, echoing deep within my mind, a scream that begs release in my final
moments of life, release I continue to deny it. What's the point? There's no one here but him to hear.
I am going to die. I don't want to die. Not here, not like this! "I will stain you, stain you red with
blood… with sin." My father continues to whisper, pressing my body to his, holding me tightly and
restraining me.
The steel is suddenly gone from my throat and that is not a good thing. I know my father. I know
what he is capable of and if this knowledge is anything to go by my death is going to be long and
painful. I tense and wait for the next rush of physical pain, wait for him to choose what he's going to
cut next. Will he stab me, draw patterns in blood upon my skin or will he cut something off, my
finger perhaps? My father likes his blades. Likes playing with them, likes the colour of fresh blood
and cutting into someone is a game to him, a game that began with my mother.
As I wait for his next move I fight my body, desperately trying to bring it back under control, trying
to still the trembling that continues to vibrate through me. I'm humiliated by the betrayal of my own
body. I don't want him to know the weakness within me. I don't want to die like this, like a coward,
trembling in my father's arms as he cuts into my flesh. I don't want my life to end this pathetically
and the least I can do is kill my fear, kill the betrayal of my body and face this with the calm I faced
my own suicide attempt with.
Unfortunately, I'm not given the chance. He doesn't give me the time to gather what little
composure I may, instead surprising me with what he does next. His fingers are on my skin,
seeming to play with the fingers of my right hand. He's putting something into my hand and closing
my fingers around the slim warm object. I'm confused, terrified and very air is thick with the scent
of my fear. This is madness. I can taste it, feel it, am drowning in it… shear madness. It takes me a
moment, a moment too long to realise what he has planned.
"She isn't dead yet, you know." My father speaks once more and his casual approach to what he's
going to make me do sends a chill into my blood. He's not going to kill me. This is worse. What he's
going to do is far, far worse. "Not yet, Dimitri. I only gave her a little, to keep her placid, to make
this easier for you, Dimitri. I know how hard it can be, especially when they struggle." His thumb
trails across my skin and his grip is firm upon my wrist.
Shit… he's going to… he is going to make me… I'm hyperventilating and suddenly it's hard to
breathe. Every breath is a painful gasp and the cut upon my throat is forgotten in favour of an even
darker realisation. This can't be happening. This cannot be happening. He's going to make me kill
her!
"N…N…Noooooooo!" The scream is wrenched painfully from my throat and echoes throughout
the room. Voice. I have finally given voice to what lies within me yet there is no joy or freedom
here. Instead it is stained with terror disbelief and sheer agony.
I wrench my body round, struggling against the grip he has on me and suddenly I am possessed by
the same madness that seems to be glowing in my father's eyes. I'm screaming at the top of my
voice and the painful sound gives me no quarter, no relief. My throat is in agony yet I care not. I can
feel fire upon my skin where I accidentally cut myself in my struggles blind to the fact that he's still
forcing the blade closer, ever closer to Beth.
Liquid warmth cuts into my madness and I freeze in place, my voice once again and rather abruptly
dead. I meet his gaze, his, oh so, satisfied gaze with horror in my own. What have I done?! My
hands are stained red with blood, liquid warmth pooling over the chill of my skin. Beth is bleeding
and my hand is still wrapped around the blade, stained red with her blood.
Redemption.
There is no redemption for me, no hope, no escape from the stain of my sins. My soul is lost and
now I have nothing left to lose. I can feel a change come over me, can feel the very last pieces of
my soul fall to the ground and suddenly everything is clear to me. I'm going to end this. I'm going to
end this here and now. I watch my father, watch the flicker of madness in his eyes change, watch as
it's suddenly coloured by fear. I can't help but smile and tighten my grip upon the slick blood stained
blade that I still hold. He knows, my father knows and suddenly he fears me. The power is now
mine and his time has come. After all, thanks to him, I now truly have nothing left to lose.
Finding strength I did not know I possessed I wrench my body out of his grasp and tear the blade
from her flesh. It may be too late for those he's already killed, too late for Beth but I am going to
save them… all those he has yet to meet. I'm going to kill him.
I think he sees the change in me, sees the madness that has finally taken possession of me because
he backs away and scrambles up as I stand and turn to face him. I take a step forward… and
another… and then… another and suddenly I'm rushing forward towards him, blood stained blade
aimed right at his chest only one desire in my heart. The desire for his death.
***
I'm a failure. Always have been and always will be it seems because even now when I finally know
what I want to do, now that I finally have the courage, the resolve to do what must be done, I fail. I
miss him. I don't know how, don't know why but I miss him. The blood stained blade catches only
air. Even worse is the realisation that he hasn't moved. My father has not moved yet I still managed
to miss him! What's wrong with me?! I can't do it. I cannot kill him. I cannot willingly plunge this
blood stained blade I hold into his flesh. Even with nothing left to lose I cannot do it.
The blade clutters to the ground, slipping through my suddenly limp fingertips and echoes through
my mind. It's over and I have lost. I have lost to him and defeat, is every bit as bitter as can be. My
world is closing in, trapping me with the stain of the sins I have committed, trapping me with the
reality of my own failure.
"Poor, Dimitri. Poor broken, Dimitri. Can't even do this right." My father, once again in control is
taunting me with my very weakness. "Let me show you." His words, echo through my mind and
drift through myself awareness. They are intangible, just beyond my reach and echo through me as
if coming at me from a great distance. I think I am losing myself. "Let me show you how it's done."
Blinding pain courses through me and my voice is once again torn from me in an agonising scream.
Reality rushes in on me once more and I realise that the pain originates in my gut. Glancing down I
stare in horror at the pool of blood that gushes over my father's hands, hands I have seen stained red
far too many times only this time… the blood is mine. My father has buried a blade deep into my
stomach and my life is pouring out over the hands that are meant to take care of me. "I'm sorry." My
father whispers and I can't help but stare at him in disbelief. The madness is fading from his gaze.
"I'm sorry, Dimitri but it has to be done." With that said he pulls, wrenches the blade out and the
blade's exit is every bit as excruciating as the entry. "I love you, Dimitri." My father whispers as I
crumple to the ground. "I love you. This is for your own good." Not again, please not again! The
blade is coming down again! I cannot let him win. I will not die here!
Adrenaline courses through me and I blindly lash out at him in desperation. I kick him with every
bit of strength I still possess and watch as he loses his balance and topples forward falling towards
me. I use my arms, legs and every shred of desperation I own to move, to slide my body away from
him and the blade he still holds, all the while watching the inevitable play of events before me. It
takes but a moment yet feels like an eternity for me, an eternity of fear and agony. Not enough. I
haven't done enough; that cannot be enough to stop him. He's going to be angry… He's going to
come after me. He is going to hit the ground, get up and then come after me, and he will make sure
I pay, just like he did to all of them, he will make sure I pay for my rebellion in pain.
But he doesn't. He hits the ground with a violent thud and then lies perfectly still. I can't believe it.
He's not coming after me. Why is he not coming after me? I stare at his still form in disbelief and it
takes my shell shocked mind a few moments to register the gentle flow, the stain that surrounds his
body. Shit! I've killed him! I didn't mean to. I've killed my own father! I have to leave. I can't stay
here. I cannot stay here beside the two people that have died by my hand tonight. I have to go. I
have to run.
I clutch at the wound he inflicted upon me and stumble up, desperately trying to ignore the warm
flow of blood that seeps through my fingers, my blood that drips to the floor taking my life with it. I
stumble up and turn only to once again pause in shock as I meet Beth's pain filled gaze. The light
within it seems to fade with every passing moment. How long has she been aware? How long has
she been looking at me like that? How much has she seen? She licks her lips, the pain upon her face
tangible with every ragged breath she takes, the effort obvious as she whispers a single word that
strikes a chord deep within me, seeming to harmonise with the shattered pieces of my soul. "Sorry"
And then the colour is gone, veiled, stolen from me as Beth succumbs to death's dark call, once
again slipping from my grasp.
Silence.
It always seems to characterize a turning point, lasting only for an instant yet signifying nothing,
everything, a moment, an eternity. It passes me by all too soon yet at the same time not soon enough
and the moment is torn asunder by the violent sound of the front door being torn down. I turn and
meet the gaze I've been waiting for, expecting all along, the gaze of my condemner. Kia is at the
door and Beau… Beau is close behind him. My heart lies shattered before me and I can feel nothing
more for him. No regret, no pain and no grief. I'm already dead and the grief and horror that I see in
his eyes barely has time to register before I too, like Beth, give in to the inevitable darkness,
allowing it to hopefully claim me once and for all.
Thud.

Flow of emotion
I'm alone in a dark room, waiting, always waiting. I'm surrounded by blood, death and sin. I can
taste it, the copper flavour unique to blood. I can smell it… that indescribable scent that can be
nothing else and worst of all I can feel it, liquid warmth running across my flesh, my hands,
staining them red with sin. Waiting… what am I waiting for? Always waiting, the anticipation of the
unknown mingling with the deep despair and guilt that have already taken root within me, guilt, sin,
death, blood, all waiting in hell.
I see a shadow moving to the left of me, a shadow darker than those that already surround me. It's
stalking me, watching. It too is waiting for me to let my guard down, waiting for me into sin to fall.
I turn to face it, my gaze desperately seeking it out but it's already gone, once again beyond the
grasp of my understanding. It's always like this… a shadow I can see from the corner of my eye but
not when I turn to face it… always intangible, beyond my grasp, playing upon my mind and my fear,
playing a game with my sanity.
It's there… waiting… in the shadows and no matter how hard I try I cannot escape it… Not when
I'm weighed down by fear, guilt and the sheer agonising scent, touch and taste of blood… so much
blood. Why is there so much blood in my life? I killed her. I killed Beth. My hands are forever
stained red with her blood… a symbol of life… the life I took away. I killed her so I guess it's only
fitting that I'm trapped here, within this nightmare, waiting for someone to kill me.
Agony, sheer fire courses through my veins and my mind is lost in waves of pain, every nerve I
possess is crying out in anguish. I glance down and see blood… always blood but this time it's
mine… pouring out of me… staining the hand that has plunged the blade into me. A shadowed
hand… a hand stained black with sin… I look up and then… I see it… his eyes, filled with madness,
filled with malice… watching me.
I wake to the sound of screaming, echoing and filling the air. It's a loud scream of pain, agony and
anguish and it takes me a moment to realise that my throat is in agony. It's me… I'm the one
screaming and the realisation suddenly cuts the sound off, as quickly and efficiently as pulling a
power plug. White… There is so much white around me. It's threatening to overwhelm me and
drive me mad. It's suffocating me, closing in on me and threatening to drive me back into oblivion.
"Dimitri!"
I spot familiar eyes looking at me, filled with panic and uncertainty. He's touching me, his hands
desperately clutching my shoulders, feebly trying to hold me in place. What on earth is Alex doing
here?! I stare at him in shock and disbelief He is still mad at me, right? On second thought, where
am I exactly?
Tense and uncertain I carefully turn my gaze to my surroundings, now actually seeing shapes in all
the white that surrounds me, familiar shapes, shapes I never wanted to see again. I'm in hospital,
again, when, if I recall correctly I just barely managed to leave it not all that long ago. Reality
crashes in on me bringing with it a wave of pain, raging fire and memory. Memory of blood,
memory of terror, and memory of… "Ef!" I exclaim sitting up completely ignoring the fire in my
gut.
"Dimitri!" Alex exclaims, distress more that apparent in his tone. "You're hurting yourself. Lay
down." His hands are once again upon my shoulders, touching me and he's pushing me down. Sad
thing is he's winning. I don't have the strength to remain seated and the searing pain in my gut is
making me sick. "ef…" I try again, desperate to make him understand. I want to know, please, I
need to know! Why can I not make him understand me?
"…ef…ef!" Frustration courses through me bringing tears to my eyes. I cannot articulate what I
want to say. I know how it's supposed to sound. I know how my lips are supposed to move! Why
can I not articulate it correctly? Why, now that I've gotten my voice back, can I not say what I need
to say?! Why doesn't he understand me? I need to know. I can feel tears of frustration gathering,
clamouring for escape and I know I'm going to humiliate myself but I can't help it. I'm at a loss. He
doesn't understand. Where is Beau when I need him!?
Alex is shaking his head, confusion upon his features and sadness within his gaze. He looks utterly
shell shocked and at the same time so very sad. It's my fault. I'm confusing him, overwhelming him
but I can't help myself because I so badly want to know. He's gone. Alex is being taken away from
me, drawn out of the room, as the room fills with white coats… so many white coats and none of
them… none of them are going to be able to understand me. "aw…aw…aw…e…aweks!" Please
don't go. Don't leave me with them…
***
Alex is back and the tears upon my cheeks have dried. They couldn't help me, all those doctors and
nurses could not help me, couldn't understand me. The idiots gave me a sedative! "They're on their
way." Alex's voice is soft, calm yet filled with sadness… so much sadness. He looks uncomfortable,
out of place, lost and I almost find myself able to pity him. He swallows, allowing a moment of
silence to settle between us before speaking again. "I'm sorry, Dimitri." He drops his gaze, unable to
meet my glazed gaze that is not quite fully here. I guess I wouldn't be able to meet my own gaze
either. Damn, I hate sedatives. "I didn't know." They make the world seem so unreal, so distant,
almost as if it were but a mere dream. Wait a minute! He didn't know? That means he knows!
Lethargy courses through me, making it difficult to think, difficult to care. There's only one thing I
care about right now, only one thing I want to know and it seems that knowledge will forever be
held just beyond my grasp. Alex sits beside me and silence once more envelopes us seeming to
embrace us, locking us in a shared moment of pain, grief and sorrow.
Slap, slap, slap. A distant sound reaches my ears… footsteps… running footsteps resounding
through the hallway, drawing my attention, drawing my focus. Someone is going to get into trouble.
Running is not allowed in the hallways.
Bang!
Had I not just been given a sedative, I would've jumped a mile high probably tearing open my
wound and killing myself in the process at the loud rather unexpected sound. Alex, does jump, not
having the fortune or misfortune of being half drugged and floating on a cloud. The door to my
room has just been slammed open and standing in the doorway before me is… hope… relief…
happiness… all in the form of Beau. His clothes are dishevelled, his hair is a mess and I can see
dark shadows beneath his eyes but still it remains the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Beau is
finally here.
Relief courses through me, accompanied by a strange feeling of warmth and contentment. Beau has
come to see me. Even after everything I've done, he's come to see me. I fight the lethargy, the drug
within my veins and struggle to lift myself. I ignore Alex and the soft protest he makes at my
movement and lock my gaze upon green eyes I've been longing to see. I want to know. I will not be
defeated by this drug. I want to know. I raise my hand as he runs to my side and it takes so much
effort, so much will power that I could cry all over again, weep for a mixture of relief and
frustration. I will not be defeated, not when the answer to my burning question is within my grasp
and so I begin to sign. 'B… E… T…H…?' Each letter is agonising, clumsy. The drug in my blood
fights my will to move but I finally manage to make myself understood and collapse back onto the
bed, my energy completely gone. Beau understands. He knows what I'm asking. I see it in his eyes.
Silence. Oh the damned sweet silence as he sinks down beside me, his green eyes searching my
own, filled with so much emotion. He reaches out and I can feel the gentle touch of his fingers
running through my hair as he allows the silence to stretch on but a moment longer. Please, please
don't tell me she's dead. "She's alright, Dimitri. Beth is alright." His gentle voice flows through me,
filling me with indescribable emotion and it takes a moment for my drugged mind to fully register
the implications of his words. Beth… is alright… I didn't… I did not kill her… Thank God… Oh,
Thank God…
I'm crying. Silent tears pouring down my cheeks. I'm crying and there's nothing I can do to change
that. There is so much emotion flowing through me that not even the drug the white coats forced
upon me, can stop it from finding its release. I'm crying for joy, for relief, for everything… for
Beth…
"Shh, Dimitri." Beau's soft voice drifts into my mind, seeping through the relief that courses
through me and calming me, embracing me and giving me something to hold on to. His fingers are
upon my skin, gently trailing over my face, carefully wiping every tear and for once there's no fire,
only gentle comforting warmth. "Beth really is alright. She's coming to see you. We've been worried
sick." His fingers drift back into my hair, brushing it back, trailing through it yet he continues to
gently catch my every tear, gentle lips upon my skin. He is kissing me, the touch feather light and
barely there but he's kissing me, kissing the trails of tears that continue to flow down my face.
"Please. Don't. Cry. Dimitri."
Beau is hurting for me and doing his best to comfort me seeming to have forgotten that Alex is here
to see him kissing me! My gaze flickers to the side, finally torn from Beau's and I seek Alex out. He
looks uncomfortable, shifting in his seat awkwardly. His skin is coloured with an embarrassed blush
and he's biting his lip. Alex… He's so cute when he does that.
Suddenly I realise that I love him, I love them, Beth, Alex, Beau and Layla. I love them and I don't
want to hurt them. When did my life get so complicated? When did I begin to care? I don't want to.
It will only lead to inevitable pain but I can no longer help myself. Not when my defences lie in
ruins and the wounds upon my soul lie open. Not when it seems it's already far too late. I care and
there's nothing I can do about it. Each of them have taken hold of me, taken hold of a thread that
defines me and redefined it, bound it to them, bound me to them.
I have the sudden urge to laugh, roll around on my bed without a care in the world and laugh at the
sheer insanity of it all. I'm losing my mind. I'm floating in a cloud, losing my mind and it feels
good. Beth is alive, Beau is kissing me, Alex is blushing and I think I'm high! On sedatives, no
less!!!

Wounded words
Somewhere between the rush of emotion, the giggling, relief and insanity I fell asleep, drifted off
into the darkness of oblivion before I could even confirm the truth of Beau's words for myself. My
sleep is haunted by nightmare and familiar visions of blood. Red. It's the only colour I ever truly see
in my dreamscape… the bright red shade of fresh flowing blood, the dark murky russet shade of
blood gone old… so much blood… why is there no escaping it?
Fortunately, this time, I do not wake up screaming. Awareness slowly creeps in on me, gently
lulling me back into a wakening state and it takes my mind a few moments to register the heat, the
rhythmic beeping, the soft whisper of breathing and the damned glaring white that hospitals insist
upon. What is it with all the white? Are doctors afraid of colour? Afraid colour might contaminate
something or someone? Or are they simply trying to simulate bright light in the hopes of
encouraging their patients to go towards the light? Either way, I wish someone would get a clue and
actually add some colour to this place. It's bad enough that we're stuck here to begin with. Being
stuck here with nothing but white all around makes it a lot worse.
It's hot. Why is it so hot in here?
There is gentle breathing beside me, rhythmic, almost merging in with all the other sounds that
surround me but it's not mine. That means… I turn towards the sound and my breath hitches in my
throat. Beth is seated beside me, her arm in a sling, a magazine on her lap. That's when I notice it,
that elusive scent that pulled me out of my dark nightmare into this realm of overwhelming white,
the scent of lilacs. Her scent, Beth's sweet scent, surrounding me.
"… … ef…" It takes me several attempts before I'm able to get my voice to co-operate with me,
several failed attempts of silence before even a fraction of what I want to say is given voice. That
fraction is enough to draw her attention to me.
Relief floods her features and she turns towards me, dropping the magazine to the ground. She
reaches out towards me with her right hand, in order to brush stray strands of hair away from my
face and I can't help but flinch. Guilt all but floors me, stealing breath from my lungs and weighing
heavily upon my chest. The sheer weight of it even manages to overpower the sharp pain in my gut.
Beth pauses, her hand inches from my skin, a frown of concern upon her brow. "Are you in pain,
Dimitri? Should I call a doctor?"
Her soft voice drifts into my mind and the sheer weight of the guilt within me increases. How can
she be so calm? How can she be so concerned about me when it's my hand that plunged a blade
deep into her flesh? I'm trembling, losing control over my body once more and it scares me. I'm
fighting sobs of pain and regret that beg for release, knowing they will never be enough to atone for
what I've done, never be enough to earn forgiveness.
"… … …" I gasp, silent painful breath escaping me with each attempt I make to speak, attempting
to give voice to the grief that has taken root deep within my soul. I need to speak. I need her to
know. I never wanted things to end like this. Never wanted her to be hurt. "o… o…. owy…" I'm a
failure. Even my attempt to give voice to my regret is a failure. My voice is hoarse, dry and barely
even there and I'm unable to articulate even the most basic of words. It's a bitter realisation, a bitter
disappointment. I still have my voice but I've lost my ability to use it. Something so simple,
something so many take for granted is beyond my reach.
Frustration courses through me and the force of pain that accompanies it surprises me. I truly didn't
think it was possible for me to fall apart again. My failures, my losses and the sheer frustration
within me are tearing me apart and I'm crying… again! When did I become such a wet blanket?
When did the pain in my soul become too much to bear? I'm crying, silent tears streaming down my
face and a whimper of pain torn from my throat.
Panic and concern mar Beth's beautiful features, twisting them. Grief, it's a feeling she should never
experience. Grief, fear and pain are all feelings someone as sweet as her should never know and
now she's stained by them. Marked by emotion she shouldn't even understand let alone be stained
by and it's my fault. I let her get hurt. I plunged a blade deep into her flesh. Even so, even after
everything I've done, even after all the pain I've caused her, she's reaching out toward me, in
sympathy, not anger. She is reaching out to comfort me, not inflict pain upon me.
Why? It does not make sense? Why doesn't she lash out towards me, seek retribution, a price for the
pain I've inflicted? It simply doesn't make any sense! Does no one get this! Nothing in my life
makes any sense anymore and that, more than anything scares me.
I slap her hand, desperate to keep it away from me. I don't want her touching me! I don't want her
hands to touch my stained body. It hurts. I'm burning, heat coursing through my veins, setting me
afire and it hurts. It hurts so bad. Every part of me, my body, my mind and my soul is in agonising
pain and I don't want her touching me.
Sobs continue to wrack my body, fighting for release, for freedom that I continue to deny them.
How many times do I have to break before I can break no more? I raise my hands, still desperate to
make her understand and begin to sign, one agonising word at a time, the trembling in my body
carrying over to my hands. 'I'm… Sorry. So, so sorry. I didn't mean to... I… I didn't want to… he
made me… he…."
Beth is shell shocked to see me sign, see me fight to make myself understood with my hands alone
and all of a sudden I realise that I've never spoken in her presence. I never felt the need to. I didn't
want to get attached, didn't want her to think I was accepting her. Why bother trying to
communicate when I wanted, correction still want nothing to do with her? She is, after all, better off
without me.
"I didn't want to. He made me… he…" His voice startles me, startles my hands into silence and my
silent tears into submission. What's Beau doing here? How did I manage to miss his presence? How
much did he see? And the words? His gentle words give voice to my silent ones, echoing what I so
badly want to say, gently echoing what I so badly want Beth to know. My breath hisses through my
teeth, escaping me at the sudden realisation. Beau is giving me a voice.
My gaze is captured by his green one and he nods, silently reaching out towards me without moving
an inch, silently telling me it's okay. I allow him to hold my gaze for once searching his with my
own, for once seeking out my own confirmation and reaching for his soul. Time stands still for but a
moment, before the rushing in once more. I take a deep breath fighting to calm myself and soothe
the frustration within me. He's here. Everything is going to be alright because he's here. Beau is
giving me voice and I can make her understand. Knowing that, I begin to sign once more, the gentle
flow of his voice giving life to the words I so desperately want said, washing over me, soothing me,
lulling me. How is it that the mere sound of his voice can have such a powerful effect on me?
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." It's strange, hearing the soft calm echo of my rather frantic
words, hearing the smooth sentences when I know my words are anything but smooth and calm.
They are stuttered painful movements translated into smooth calm flow by the soft silky sound of
Beau's voice. It's incredibly strange and at the same time, oh so, right. His calm tone gives me
courage to say what I need to say.
"I didn't want to stab you." Beau pales at my words, shock coursing through his gaze but he
continues to translate as I sign, his green eyes now desperately searching mine, his brow furrowed
in concern, and in pain. "He made me. He wouldn't let go of me. He pushed. He pushed so hard and
I… I failed. I couldn't fight him. He's too strong. I couldn't let go. Please, please believe me. I tried
but he wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let me drop the blade. I didn't mean to." My hands drop and his
voice fades, the last few words said on but a whisper as he stares at me with pure horror in his gaze.
Silence. The echo of emotion through the air. A heavy beat, yet not a sound is heard. A moment to
echo through all of time. Beau is pale; his gaze filled with horror, disbelief and deep seated pain.
Beth looks sad. I regret my words and the manner in which they've been uttered. I've hurt them. Not
only have I hurt Beth but I've also hurt him. I've hurt Beau and now that he knows the truth he can't
help but hate me.
I tear my gaze from his, unable to bear the horror in his eyes any longer, unwilling to see the horror
turn to hatred. It was a big mistake. This moment, my words, my silence, my life, my existence and
everything I've ever done is all one huge mistake. I shouldn't have done this. Damn! Why did I not
first think this through?
"Oh, Dimitri." Beth's sorrow filled voice cuts into. "I know." Beth is crying, silent tears flowing
down her cheeks, resonating with the raw pain within me. "I know you didn't mean to, honey. I saw.
I saw you fight him." A sob escapes her throat. It's a sound filled with remembered fear,
remembered pain and such deep sorrow that it cuts me to the core, drawing sound from me, the
rough sound of my sob echoing the pain in hers.
"I know you didn't want to. It's okay, Dimitri. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. He… He told
me… He told me everything. I'm so sorry, Dimitri. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that. He
told me he was going to make you kill me. I'm sorry Dimitri. I'm so sorry. I couldn't do anything to
stop him. I couldn't do anything to protect you. I'm so sorry, Dimitri. You didn't hurt me,
sweetheart." She's reaching out towards me again, this time ignoring my flinch, ignoring my blatant
rejection of her touch and rests her fingers lightly upon my skin, gently wiping the tears, the
flowing rivers upon my skin, away. "He did it, he hurt me and because of you he missed. The blade
went into my shoulder, honey. It missed. He didn't hurt me nearly as badly as he did you so please,
sweetheart. Please, don't blame yourself for something you had no control over. Please don't cry."
Beth's words don't make sense to me. Why is she apologising to me? Doesn't she realise how much
her words are hurting me? I don't want her to forgive me. I don't deserve it. I don't want her to tell
me it's okay and it's not my fault. I missed? I hit her shoulder? Thank God! The blade missed her
heart, her lungs and her arteries. She's alright but still… I cannot accept her forgiveness. It's my
fault that she was there to begin with, my fault that he could get to her. Why you may ask? Because
I allowed myself, my soul, my heart and every shred of empathy I may ever have possessed to be
trapped in silence, trapped in the nightmare that's taken over my life and killed all hope within me.
She's kissing me, the soft touch of her lips cool upon my skin and I cannot hide the shaking in my
body. She looks concerned, a tiny frown marring her brow and he's beside her, confusion, sorrow
and pain marring him. He heard everything and I've yet to find out what he intends to do about it.
Her hand flutters, gently reaching out towards me and rests upon my forehead, the coolness of her
skin battling the fire within me, the fire that threatens to overwhelm me. Why am I so hot when he
has yet to touch me? I'm burning from the inside out and no longer have any control over the
seizures that seem to possess my body.
"Beau." Beth's voice whispering his name echoes through me, my heart aching to have his arms
around me. I want him to gather me to him and hold me close. I want him to touch me, to do
something about the fire in my blood, fire that has to be his fault, though why it's coursing through
me when he has yet to touch me, I cannot say. "I think we need to call a doctor." I want him to kiss
away the pain. I want him to lie. I want him to say that it's alright. I want him to say he loves me.

The end of the world

Fire. Burning heat rages through my blood threatening to swallow me whole. Fire, heat, pain. This
is different to the fire that rages through me every time Beau touches me. There's no pleasure, no
hunger, no desire, only pain, all consuming pain wearing me down. I'm tired, exhausted and
despondent. I cannot fight anymore. Fighting this all consuming heat is hopeless and I no longer
have the energy to care, no longer have the will to fight. How long did I fight it? The inevitable?
Why did I bother, anyway? I've nothing left to live for.
I'm surrounded by darkness, inky black contradicting the fire that consumes me. I cannot escape it.
Not the darkness, not the fire, not the excruciating pain. I want to let go. I want to escape. I want it
to be over. I want to wholeheartedly give in to the pain and wait for it to consume me, to take me, to
finally offer me the release promised by death.
Beau's here with me. I can feel it, his very presence seeping into my consciousness. He has a very
distinct presence, a presence I would recognise anywhere. What's he doing here? In my
dreamscape? In this place that has no existence yet still manages to exist only in the realms of my
mind. What is he doing here? In my waiting room, as I wait for death. Damn him! Can I not escape
him? Not even in the nether corners of my mind? Not even in death?
He's crying. Why is Beau crying? Tears pouring down a face twisted in anguish. I don't want him to
cry. I don't want to see that look upon his face. Stop. Please stop crying, it hurts… so much… I
don't want Beau to cry. He's whispering, soft words that echo through my mind but I struggle to
make them out. The fire is burning me, killing me, drawing me away from him. Damn this fire, this
blaze that consumes my all, this blaze that has nothing to do with the fire in his touch, damn it all. I
want to know why he's crying. I want to wipe the tears away.
I reach out, desperation suddenly in my heart, filling the void of my broken soul and driving me
forward towards him. I want to know, I need to know. I need… him. "Please…" The words he
whispers are given form, echoing through the air between us. "Dimitri, please don't leave me."
Suddenly his voice rises in pitch, the words no longer a whisper but a cry of anguish, a cry of pain
that echoes though me, tearing into me. "Dimitri! Don't you dare die! Don't you dare leave me!!!
Please, please don't leave me! Come back! Come back to me! I love you!"
Everything around me shatters; breaks apart and a loud high pitched scream fills my ears,
drowning the remainder of his voice out. He's gone. Everything is gone, torn apart and lost to me,
leaving me alone once again with the dull fire in my blood and the painful pitch within my ears
followed by silence.
Darkness fades stealing the fire from me, leaving me drained, exhausted and aching. Every part of
me throbs, beating with my heart. Thump… thump, thump…. thump… echoing through me, telling
me that once again death has been denied me. The darkness slips away from me, taking the relief I
crave, stealing it from me. I want it back. Desire it like nothing on earth, long for it with every fibre
of my being, so I reach out, desperately trying to grab it, trying to bring it back to me, only to
encounter… fire.
Heat, touch, desire… sweet, sweet familiar fire, burning me, coursing through me but different…
different from the flame that sought my life not too long ago. This is Beau's fire, the pleasant fire
that draws me into his touch and makes me long for things unknown, waking an unknown hunger
deep in my gut. A hunger that craves satisfaction. A hunger I know not how to sate. Is he here?
I open my eyes, desperate to know, to confirm what I dare not hope for, and meet his gaze, filled
with shock, tinged by sorrow. He looks haggard, torn and more than a little abused, dark, shadows
beneath his eyes and pain etched upon his features, reminiscent of the anguish he bore in my
dreams. He's holding my hand, clasping it tightly between his, cradling it to his chest, staring at me
in disbelief. Suddenly, I'm moving, my body aching but I don't care. He's holding me, his face
buried in my shoulder, suspicious heated moisture upon my skin. He's crying. I made Beau cry.
Confusion and uncertainty course through me and for once in my life I am at a loss. He's hurting. I
can feel it. Beau is hurting because of me and I want to wipe that pain away. I do not know why.
Don't know where this sudden desire comes from and cannot even being to understand it so I'm at a
loss. I never had to deal with anything like this, never cared enough to allow myself to care. Caring
only leads to pain. When did I allow myself to forget that?
I'm in his arms, pressed tightly against his chest and can feel his every movement, can feel the
trembling in his body, the grief echoing through him and it hurts so much. I want it to stop. I want
his grief to calm and his body to rest, to lie in comfort, the comfort he's always offering me. I
awkwardly wrap my arms around him not knowing what else to do, trying to capture the trembling,
trying to hold him as he holds me and perhaps offer him the rather minimal comfort of my touch.
My touch seems to wake him from the trance of his grief and suddenly he moves again, shifting far
too quickly for me, my mind in its confused daze battling to keep up with his actions. My skin
explodes with sensation of fire… heat… moisture, invading me in the most intimate way possible.
He's kissing me... kissing me with everything he possesses. His tongue is thrusting into my mouth,
claiming it and giving me no choice in the matter as he consumes me.
Sound… voice… a whimper. The fire in his touch tears a whimper from me, a hungry sound that
begs and pleads for more. I want more. I don't know what more implies, if it's even possible to get
more but I want more of his touch, his taste and his scent. I want him to draw me into him and make
me feel, make me forget. I don't care that he's male. I don't care that this can't be anything more than
lust. I don't even care that I don't deserve even this. I want him with every fibre of my being.
Beau's hair has the consistency of soft cool silk slipping through my fingers. It reminds me of his
silken sheets, the cool smooth touch of them upon my bare skin and suddenly I want the silken
touch to surround me, cradle me and hold me in its embrace. The very idea pulls a hungry moan
from my throat and suddenly my tongue is in his mouth, returning his aggressive exploration. He's
like a drug that draws me ever deeper, consuming all of me with pleasure, hunger and desire. He's
my drug, my weakness and I fear that it's already too late. I am addicted. There truly is no hope for
me.
"Beau!" Kia's voice rips into me, like a bullet, tearing my lips away from Beau's mouth a heated
guilty flush burning my skin. Horror courses through me and I look up to meet Kia's stern
disapproving stare, fixed upon me, boring into me and nailing me in place. What have I done?
"Why didn't you tell me he was awake?" Kia walks towards us and hits Beau over the head with a
sheath of papers as he reprimands him. "And kissing him? Already? Couldn't you wait till he
recovers a little more? Teenagers these days." Kia seats himself beside Beau and leans over to ruffle
Beau's hair. That's when I realise that he's not serious. He looks relieved and the reprimand is
playful, light and filled with teasing.
Wait, hold on, teasing?! Relief? Playfulness? From Kia?! Something truly big must have happened.
Either that or I've once again entered an alternative universe where Kia is actually nice for a
change? Where did the Kia I know so well go to? The Kia that wants Beau to have nothing to do
with me? This does not compute. Am I still sick? Still filled with fever, delusional and dreaming?
No, I'm awake. The skin on my hand is throbbing in sharp pain where I pinched it. So what is going
on here?
Kia grabs Beau by the shoulder and draws him into an embrace, burying Beau's tear streaked face
into his shoulder. "I told you he'd pull through." He states softly. Turning away from Beau Kia turns
to me, searching me as usual but somehow the expression in his eyes is softer than the previous
times I have been trapped within them. "I'm glad you're awake." He states and his words shock me
to the core. He's being honest. I can see as much upon his face but what on earth is he saying? Kia?
Glad to see me awake? Not reprimanding me for kissing Beau? For getting his brother involved in
the mess that is currently my life? The world is coming to an end, right? Admit it, the centre of that
meteor is headed for my exact co-ordinates and eminent impact is only seconds away, right?
"I need to talk to you." Kia's words hang in the air between us, echoing with hidden meaning. "But I
take it that the doctors don't know you're awake, yet." I'm confounded, baffled beyond belief and
still don't know how to deal with this apparent change in Kia. I hear his words and understand their
meaning but I am baffled by the change in his demeanour and coherent response eludes me.
Obviously taking my silence as confirmation, he stands, ruffles Beau's hair and turns to leave. I
stare after his retreating form in shock, unable to gather myself, unable to comprehend what has just
happened when he pauses. Something seems to be holding him back for but a moment… conflict…
uncertainty… hesitation… and then… he speaks; gentle words that once again, manage to turn my
world upside-down. "Your father confessed.”

Red cool drink

I really hate doctors, with their all too white coats taunting me with the lack of blood upon them,
their all too cool efficiency and all too searching questions. I swear they live to torment their
patients and probably have secret contests comparing their most creative torture techniques with
one another. Fortunately, they didn't put me on sedatives again, something to be grateful for, I guess.
I hate the heady rush I get when on drugs of one kind or another. I hate the complete loss of control.
I've little enough control over my life already without adding drugs to the equation.
The moment the white coats departed, Beau was back, seated beside me. Kia was not all that far
behind him. Dread fills me at the sight of Kia, his earlier words of departure echoing through my
mind. He wants to talk to me… My father confessed. This is it, I guess… My moment of reckoning.
Kia runs a weary hand through his hair, taking a moment to gather himself before facing me. This
can't be good. He heaves a deep sigh before speaking. "As I said…" He begins awkwardly. "Your
father's confessed to five murders starting with the murder of your mother ten years ago. It
confirmed our suspicions. However, he refuses to give us any more than that. We still lack the
physical evidence to link him to the crimes. He refuses to tell us how he killed each of them or even
where the missing bodies are. Although incriminating, a confession is often not enough for a
conviction, especially if the criminal changes their story in court. We need more evidence, Dimitri.
We need your story."
Criminal. The word echoed through my mind. My father is a criminal, a murderer, a serial killer. I
am an accomplice. Oh the twisted web of deception. When did I get so lost in the shadows of it? My
father confessed. He told the FBI he killed my mother, the others but he still withholds the details.
Why? To protect himself? Me? Our sanity? It's already too late. Doesn't he realise that? Kia wants
to know what I know, what I saw, what I did and he's asking me, asking mind you, not threatening
or demanding, he's asking me to tell him. Ultimately, the decision lies with me.
Do I betray him? The man I have known and in my own twisted way both loved and hated for so
many years. Yes… as much as I hate to admit it, I love him. How can I not? He's my father, the man
who gave me life. Do I betray my own flesh and blood? The one that has hurt me over and over
again like no other. Do I betray my father? Myself? I've already betrayed them, all those he killed.
Can I even atone for that? Will the breaking of my silence be enough to bring even a measure of
peace to those touched by this darkness? This darkness that consumes all of me: my life, my heart
and my soul? He's already in jail. He's already confessed to killing them... What difference can my
story make? A few words… stained by sin. A big difference… to me… I will be free… free of these
shackles that bind me and he? He will stay in jail. I'm joining him anyway. What do I have to lose?
I glance at Beau, seated at Kia's side and grief courses through me. I have a lot to lose. I will lose
his respect, his concern and his friendship. I'm about to lose Beau but he is better off without me. I
don't want him to be stained by me, by my sin, by the darkness that consumes all of me, so I guess
my decision is finally made. There is no escape from this.
Shifting awkwardly, ignoring the pain in my body, the fire in my gut and the shattering of my heart
I turn to Kia, close my eyes and raise my hands to sign. I don't want to see the expression on Kia's
face when he gets what he wants. Don't want to see the expression on Beau's face, when he finally
knows the taint upon me. 'Ten years ago… I watched my mother die.'
Ten years ago, I watched my mother die when death still made no sense to me. It was dark, night,
the time when all the monsters under my bed came out to play. I was scared. A monster had come to
get me and I wanted Mama, to chase it away. I slipped out of bed and ran to my door, afraid to
touch the ground for too long, afraid of the dream. I was rather stupid I guess, to be afraid of my
own imagination. A stupid, weak, foolish child but I didn't know better.
I heard screaming when I made it to the hall. Mama and my father were fighting. I don't know
about what. All I remember is the screaming. To this day I can still hear it. The anger. Mama always
got upset when they did. She cried and I didn't like to see Mama cry. Part of me wanted to stay
away but I was scared of the stupid monsters under me bed. I didn't want to be alone in the dark so
I walked towards the light burning in the kitchen. I didn't like the yelling but it was better than the
monsters in my bed. It was Mama. Mama loved me and she would hug me, give me warm milk and
tell me a story. I wanted that so badly. I selfishly wanted that and didn't even stop to think what I
may be walking in on.
I heard a loud noise, a bang and ran to the door. I was scared but I didn't know the true meaning of
fear. My nightmares, those monsters under my bed were nothing, nothing compared to the real
world. The first thing I saw was my mother, lying in a pool of blood. I… I thought it was cool drink.
Stupid as I was, I thought it was red cool drink. I thought Mama had spilt cool drink and couldn't
figure out why she was lying in it. I thought maybe she slipped and fell.
I am shaking, violent tremors making their way through my body, taking possession of me. My
hands still. I can't move them any longer. The violent tremors have taken over my body and are
affecting the coherency of anything I may try to sign. Damn the betrayal of my body affecting me
like this, affecting my resolve. How am I supposed to tell my story when I cannot make myself
understood? I have to. I need to make myself understood. My mother's story deserves to be told.
She didn't deserve to die like that, her death shrouded in shadow, forgotten. Her story, the story she
is no longer here to tell, deserves to be told and I will be her voice.
Warmth, touch and comfort envelope me from behind, a familiar scent trickling in. A scent uniquely
his. Beau is wrapping me up in his arms and offering me the silent comfort of his warmth. Comfort
I do not deserve, comfort I cannot seem to refuse. He will refuse it to me soon enough, I guess,
when he finds out that there's more, so much more to this story, when he finds out that my hands too
are stained with her death.
I relax into the warmth that surrounds me. I cannot help it. He robs me of all will to protest, draws
me ever closer to him. His touch calms the seizures in my body and the conflict in my soul. I'm
addicted to his very essence. He is my weakness, my undoing. I raise my hands once again, a deep
desire to finish this rooted deep within me. This story has to be told. My mother's soul needs to be
acknowledged, set free and this nightmare needs to end. I will end it here and now. I will set her
free. I gather my courage, the shreds of my soul where life still resides and begin to sign once more.
'He made me.'
He made me.
My father made me clean my mother's blood. He told me Mama made a mess and I should clean it.
I should be a good boy and help Mama. Help her by cleaning the red cool drink messed on the
floor. He picked her up and left me alone to clean the mess. I knew it was blood. Even though I was
only six years old, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that it was blood. Cool drink was not
that bright, that opaque, that warm but I didn't want to accept it. I did not want to accept what I'd
seen, what I now knew so I held onto the rather foolish belief that my mother had spilt cool drink on
the floor and I was to help her clean it.
It took hours to clean, the cool drink staining my hands red, over and over again, staining my
hands, my skin, my soul. There was so much of it, staining everything I saw. It felt like I'd never be
done. I scrubbed so hard my hands were raw and still I didn't stop. I was fighting the monsters in
my head, fighting the tears a big boy should never shed, fighting the sound that wanted to escape
my lips, sound I knew I was now forbidden to make. Sounds he forbade me to make.
Events thereafter are a little blurred. All I remember is the confusion. Mama was gone. Why did
Mama leave me? It hurt. Mama didn't want me anymore. I can't remember more than that. Nothing
held any meaning to me anymore. Not sound, not time, not life, nothing until the day I found my
mother again. She was… she was… blue.
He hid her. My father hid her body in the freezer. I don't know why I opened it, what I was looking
for but I found her. I found my mother and the sight still haunts me to this day.
Beau is speaking to me, telling me it's okay, telling me to stop, telling me that I have said enough
but I haven't. The story is not done yet. He's shaking. Beau's body is trembling in shock. I can feel it
echoing through me. He's holding me so tightly that I can feel his every movement, his every
breath, the very beat of his heart. He is holding me in shock, in pain, in horror, every conflicted
emotion expressing itself through the subtle shifts and changes in his body. I'm scaring him. I can
feel it, hear it in the frantic tone in his voice, the panting of his breath. I'm scaring him but I cannot
stop, not now that I'm finally giving my mother her voice. The nightmare is far from over. 'It was
sickening.'
It was sickening and I was terrified. I wanted to scream, to run, to hide, but I couldn't tear my eyes
from the face of the mother I loved so much, a mother who now looked like a monster, a dark
shadow from my nightmares. She was stained blue, white, purple and black, and her eyes were
watching me, empty, dark and devoid of life. I think I threw up. I'm not sure. I just felt so sick.
I didn't eat for the longest time after that but I visited her, every day. I went to tell her stories. I
thought she must be cold and lonely, all alone in that cold box. I didn't open the box that held her
again, could not bring myself to see her like that, couldn't bring myself to believe that my beautiful
mother, Mama whom I loved so much, was now cold, empty and dark. I didn't open that box again
but I couldn't forget.
Then we moved. My father left everything we owned behind. He grabbed me, some clothes, the car
and we left. Just like that we left and Mama was gone, left behind all alone. Without me to tell her
stories.
Raw pain is coursing through my body, my heart, my mind, my chest and my gut. It's making it
hard to breathe, violent seizures once more claiming my body, silent rivers of tears pouring down
my face. Pain, so much pain, pain I know not what to do with, pain that even Beau's touch cannot
soothe.
I double over, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it, overwhelmed by the fire in my gut. My
body is rebelling against me, each shiver sending waves of pain through me and I can't take it
anymore. I no longer know where I begin and end, no longer know where pain begins and ends, no
longer know what defines me, what's around me, how all of this even began.
Even so, I feel it, feel the sharp prick of a needle in my flesh, a small source of pain quickly
drowned by the waves already coursing through me, becoming but a memory, forgotten almost as
soon as it's experienced. I'm floating, slowly drifting away from sensation, away from the pain that
seems to have me in its clutches. I am floating towards euphoria, towards oblivion and perhaps
release.
I've been told that telling someone your darkest deepest secrets sets you free, releases you from the
chains that bind your soul. My secret is bare, lying wounded in the bitter light and I am not free. I
can never be free. Not of this sin that stains me, binds me and slowly kills me. I can never be free of
the guilt, the consequences and the stain upon my soul because nothing I do can bring my mother or
those that followed after her, back from the dead.

Surprise
Consciousness once more draws me towards the harsh reality of my boring white room, and back
towards things I do not wish to face. Surprisingly my hospital room is empty. It's a strange feeling.
I've kind of grown accustomed to having someone in the room when I wake and it's almost become
something of a game, guessing who will be next. This time, there is no one… No one to greet me
back into the world of the living, only the rhythmic beep and soft whoosh of hospital equipment.
Sounds I've grown to detest.
Beep... beep… beep… whoosh… Over and over again, beating out the rhythm of time passing me
by at an agonising pace. I'm alone again and in being so, am given time to contemplate everything.
The past, the present, my father, my mother, all those he killed, Beth, Beau, Layla, Kia, Alex and
strangely enough even Laura. In the span of a few short days, weeks, months my life has become
amazingly complicated. I don't even know how it all began.
So much has happened in my life. So much change, confrontation, confusion, conflict, release, pain.
The list just goes on. I can barely wrap my mind around it. Scratch that. I can't wrap my mind
around it all. Would I go back? Would I do anything differently? Honestly? I don't know. I barely
understand everything that's happened let along the impact of it on me and those around me. What's
done is done, even contemplating 'what ifs' is a wasted endeavour. I can't take it back and maybe,
just maybe, it's better this way.
Suddenly I can feel it, his presence echoing through me, reverberating through my soul, drawing me
out, out of my thoughts, my contemplation and speculation. Glancing up I meet his deep green gaze,
filled with conflict, sorrow, pain and something else, a far deeper emotion that I cannot begin to
fathom let alone understand.
Beau smiles at me, a sparkle of mischief upon his face, mischief I have not seen upon it for far too
long. Hiding his hands behind his back he stalks me, walking towards me with slow deliberate
steps, exaggerated for my benefit, almost as if he were a hunter, stalking its prey, readying itself to
pounce upon its victim. I wait for that pounce, completely baffled by his actions. Even so, ready as I
am for him to make a sudden action I'm startled when he does. Moving far too quickly for my
liking, his hands appear before me and cradled in them is a package! "Happy birthday, Dimitri."
What?!
What did he just say? Did he just wish me a happy birthday? Why? 'It's not my birthday, today.' I
sign in confusion. Now that I think about it, the day I turned seventeen has already passed me by, in
its usual manner. Another day spent in nightmare, another year spent in silence. My birthday is
certainly not something to celebrate. Why would I, why would anyone want to celebrate my
existence? It hasn't been something to celebrate since my sixth birthday. 'My birthday has…"
"Already passed." Beau interrupts me, finishing my sentence. "I know. We missed it because we
didn't know when it was." He places the package carefully into my lap. "So we decided to make up
for it with a belated celebration. Come on. Open it. Please." He's expectantly waiting for me to do
as he asks. He wants me to open his gift, to accept it, to be happy. I can't give him what he wants. I
can't be happy celebrating my existence when all I want is to end it thus setting myself free from the
dark shadows that follow me every single moment of every single day.
Yet, for some strange reason, a reason I've yet to contemplate let alone understand, I don't want to
disappoint him. I don't want to see sadness and grief upon his face so I reach for the parcel and run
my fingers over the bright red wrapping, seeking the seal I must break. My movement is such a
small action yet the impact it has on him is monumental. Relief seems to course through him and
happiness lights up his face. He's full of pure impulsive emotion and it suits him more than the pain
and grief that I've recently learnt to read and recognise within him.
I want to keep it. I want to capture that light in his gaze, bottle it and give it back to him every time
that light dies. I want to keep it alive and keep it where it belongs. It is a foolish impulse, but I
cannot help myself. I don't think I want to help myself. This feeling, although foreign is pleasant. A
subtle feeling is creeping up on me, a subtle sensation of warmth, of content deep within me and I
realise I am happy. I am happy because something I did put that expression on his face.
Finding the sticky tape, I slowly begin to peel it off, taking my time with each and every piece. I
can't remember the last time I received a gift and I want to prolong this experience. All too soon, the
paper falls open, revealing a dark blue box and inside... inside the dark blue box rests a pendant, a
girl's pendant. It's a circle. No, wait, it's a heart, a very subtle filigree heart with a blue stone at its
centre. "I know it's not exactly something a guy would wear." Beau starts to speak, suddenly
looking remarkably uncomfortable. "But it reminded me of you and I thought you could use it as
something else. Maybe attach it to one of the chains you wear on your pants or something."
I glance up. He looks uncomfortable. A moment ago he was excited, eagerly waiting for me to open
what he's given me and now he's biting his lip and looks uncomfortable. 'I love it.' I sign carefully,
making sure he sees every word. Girly as this may make me seem I really do like it. I like it a lot. I
can't pinpoint why but I think there's meaning to it. There is a reason Beau chose this for me, a
meaning that exists within me, there in the back of my mind, slipping beyond the grasp of my
understanding. Maybe someday I'll capture it and understand every facet of it because I just know
that like everything else with Beau, it won't be what it may initially seem to be. Instead it will be
every bit as multi-dimensional and faceted as Beau is.
I lift the pendent from the box. I want to see it better. That's when I discover that already it's more
than it seems. Cradled in its centre is a tiny ball, a bell that chimes softly into the air around us. It is
but a whisper of sound, a tiny cry that I would have missed if not for the oppressive all consuming
silence of the damned hospital room and the monotony of the equipment that I've already learnt to
ignore. It has a voice.
Raw emotion wells up within me and fills me to overflowing. There's so much emotion. I barely
understand it, yet it's there, welling up within me. How can one little pendant, a tiny subtle shaped
heart, a tiny bell do this to me? How can a tiny gift like this, a girl's pendant no less, mean so much
to me? There's no answer. This too, makes no sense in my life but there you have it. It's there, a part
of him and now part of me. I meet his gaze once more and my lip trembles, my body trembles with
the force of the sheer overwhelming emotion I know not what to do with. Why is he doing this to
me? Why does it affect me so? Why does it even matter?
I'm not given time to contemplate the meaning of these questions and the possibilities associated
with them because the next thing I know, my room becomes a war zone. A war zone, I tell you,
bright colours, loud voices, streamers, yipping and candles; so much noise, movement and so many
voices. They're all here. Everyone, Beth, Kia, Layla, Beau's mother, a man I don't know but assume
is his father (He looks like Beau after all), Josh, Alex, Laura and even Lilac! The only person I
know, that's missing is Kevin. Okay, Kevin and my teachers. Now that would just be creepy.
So many people; all gathered in my room and all bearing gifts. I swear the world's coming to an
end. Remember that meteor I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it's still looming. It has to be. I mean this is
insane. Hold on a second. I know what's happening. It's finally happened. I've finally lost my mind
and am currently delusional and all of this is but a figment of my rather overused and
underappreciated imagination.
I'm swamped by touch (Damn… what happened to my no touchie policy?) and verbal rather
enthusiastic well wishes. Let's not forget the anticipation and encouragement, all directed at me and
these damned brightly coloured packages I'm expected to open. Remember what I said about all the
white? I take it back. Please, remove this colour from my sight. I think I'm going into colour
overload.
They give me no peace. They sing that dreaded song to me and then ask me to blow out all the
candles and make a wish… Make a wish, huh? I blow out all the candles in one go. Okay, I admit it.
I may have gotten some assistance from Beau to my right. I can still feel his warm breath shift upon
the skin of my face. Either way, all the candles are blown out. As for my wish? Well, they do say
you're not supposed to tell anyone, right?
Onto the packages. Maybe if I open them, I will no longer be overwhelmed by all this bright colour.
Wishful thinking. I suspect the contents are going to be rather creative. Sheets of music for the
panpipe. One guess, who that's from. Alex. A music CD, some strange band I've never heard of let
alone seen. Oh come on, Josh! Okay, I'm officially freaked out. Why was there no warning label on
this package! A long phallic device, a box of silver square packets and a can of…? Please don't
make me say it! Laura! I should've known not to open anything she gave me. I am now on the
receiving end of some really strange looks.
Okay, moving right along. Wait Lilac! No! I don't need a warm yellow spot. Someone forgot to take
the doggie out. No! I cannot resist. No! Puppy dog eyes! I'm supposed to be reprimanding her,
damn it. Oh well. I'm not washing these sheets and I doubt the nurses will let them stay here.
Hygiene and all that.
The next parcel I open contains a camera. Wait. Beau's parents gave me a camera and a good one at
that! They must've seen the shock on my face because the next thing I know Beau's mother is telling
me it's so I can take pictures of my new life, make new memories. What new life? Have they missed
the whole accomplice to a serial killer thing?
The next parcel is from Kia. I'm not sure I want to open that one. Kia is a mystery to me. He's
always on my back, always cornering me and his sudden change of demeanour doesn't make any
sense to me. It kind of makes me wonder what brought it on. Personally, I think Beau had
something to do with that. Though the question remains… Do I want to know what he's giving to
me? To hell with it…
Wait. No way! He and Laura deserve each other! He got me handcuffs! And not normal handcuffs,
you know the kind you wear to jail… No, he got me handcuffs lined with white silk! I'm going to
die of embarrassment. It's official. They're out to get me. Wait just one moment. Beau looks as
horrified as I do and he's turning bright red. Why is Beau turning bright red? Hold on a second! Kia
is handing Beau something. It can't be. I glance down in desperation hoping I'm wrong. The
handcuffs have no keys!
I slip Kia's gift into shadow along with Laura's and it takes me a moment to recover. A moment of
heat coursing through me and no, not the heat I get from Beau's touch. It's the heat of mortification.
Layla approaches me next, everyone instinctively making room for her wheel chair. She's grinning
at me and sending cheeky smiles at Beau who is every bit as red as I am and avoiding everyone's
gaze like the plague. Believe you me, for once I can empathise. Layla drops a small parcel into my
lap and for a moment I hesitate. She couldn't have. Not Layla? Right? Thankfully, she didn't.
Although a touch embarrassing, her gift is nothing compared to Kia's and Laura's. Layla gave me a
box filled with colourful hair clips, clips of every colour. Yes, including pink and for some reason, I
honestly don't mind.
Only one parcel left, if it can be called that. It's a simple yellow envelope. Just one envelope. No
dangerous items in there, I'm sure. It's from Beth. A hush seems to fall upon the room as I reach for
it, almost as if everyone is waiting for something monumental to happen. I slip my finger beneath
the flap and open it; the lively chatter and teasing that filled my room only moments ago suddenly
gone. What could they possibly be waiting for?
I slip my hand inside and pull out the contents. The envelope is filled with paper. A rather innocent
object but it's not the paper that causes the reverent hush within the room. It's what's written on it.
Dimitri Sareena.
But…
Wait…
Isn't that…
Beth's surname?
New chapter
I'm going home. After three silence filled appointments with that damned know it all psychologist
I'm finally going home! Or rather, I'm going to Beth's home, my new home. I still can't believe it.
Paper, a couple of thin sheets of paper is all it takes to change my life forever, thin fragile sheets of
paper and a change in name. Is it really that simple?
Beth has adopted me. Apparently she marched into jail and demanded that my father sign the
adoption papers or else. My father complied which makes me wonder... What does she have on
him? On the man that's controlled my life with fear all these years. What is he afraid of? What does
'or else' mean exactly? It's not as if his situation can get any worse, is it? After all, he's in jail for
murder, right? One of the worst crimes known to man.
My father murdered them. Wilfully and wrongfully took each of their lives. What's worse, he made
me help. He stained me black as sin. No, it's really not that simple. I should be there with him,
rotting in a cell, paying for my sins. Beth can change my name, change the little piece of paper that
legally identifies me but she cannot change who I am, cannot erase the stain he has inflicted upon
me. She can't erase the sins I've committed.
So much conflict and confusion wage war with me. So much has happened yet I understand none of
it. Why is Beth bothering to adopt me? Why did he, my father, willingly sign those papers? Why are
Alex, Beau, Laura, Kia and Layla still speaking to me? I wish I knew what they are thinking.
Unfortunately, wishes and dreams have always been beyond my reach.
It takes me a moment to realise that the car has ground to a halt, a moment to step out the car and
take in the small rather humble abode. It's amazing, this small little house with its rather busy
garden. Architecturally speaking it's nothing compared to the house my father bought but for some
reason it feels like a home. Loved, cared for and appreciated, as yet, unstained by the darker
shadows of humanity.
Beth walks up to the front door and guides us inside. Yes, for some reason Beau is here as well. He
is pointedly carrying my bags, refusing to let me lift a finger as he says. Apparently he wants me to
recover from the wound in my gut first. That wound is but a shadow of the shattered fragments of
my soul and but a fraction of the penance I have to pay. I deserve it, this pain. I deserve every bit of
it and more.
Instinctively cradling my abdomen I follow Beth up the narrow stairs, for a moment allowing
myself to wonder as to our destination. This staircase is so different to the fancy overdone one in
that house. It's straight, simple and hidden in shadow. I kind of like the shadows and small space. It
gives this place a touch of intimacy that the large sweeping staircase, in my father's house, sorely
lacks.
Beth pauses and waits for me, standing beside a small wooden door. Speaking softly she pushes it
open. "This is your room." She looks so happy, eagerly anticipating my reaction. I hesitate,
uncertain for a moment before crossing the remaining distance.
Speechless. I… I… I truly have no words to describe this moment. This… this… How can this be
mine? Beth… she… she decorated a room solely for me? This is mine? I'm standing in the doorway
to a room that takes my breath away, literally and figuratively, in every sense of the word. No, it's
not some fancy room filled with expensive things. In fact, it's rather small, a lot smaller than the
room in his house but it's all mine and none of it has been bought with blood money. It's decorated
in various shades of blue, black and white, has a bed, a desk and a closet and surprisingly, an easel
in a corner seemingly dedicated to art, with racks, cups and various other containers perfect for art
supplies. So little, yet so much. When did Beth...? How did Beth manage to figure me out?
I take a few steps into the room, staring at it in disbelief, noticing tiny details here and there that I
initially missed. Small chain's clipped onto the dark blue curtains, holding them open, pencils
scattered on the desk, a paper corner filled with stacks of paper to scribble on, a music stand for
sheets of music, a comforter, black as night, sparsely decorated with silver stars, and a leather
bound book upon the bed. It feels like, seems to, well, it seems to characterise parts of me, my
moods, my likes, my hobbies.
I sit down, the soft silk sheets cool against my skin and reach for the book, carefully opening it,
almost afraid of what I'll find inside. My eyes go wide, my hands numb and my breath escapes me
in a hiss. How had they… where… when… How had they found all of this? Who found it? Why?
Why did they invade my privacy like this? Shock and pain intermingled with a touch of horror
course through me and my gaze immediately seeks Beth and Beau out. They… they saw… they
know… The book… this book in my lap is filled with scraps of memories carefully and reverently
pasted onto each page, memories I managed to hold onto, hide from my father. This book is filled
with torn stained photographs, sketches, newspaper clippings and notes all reminding me of them,
each and every one of them, reminding me of those he killed. This book contains my soul, bare and
exposed for all to see.
A whimper tears through the air. A desolate ragged sound filled with grief and pain and I realises
that it is borne by me. They know. The saw! I cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot face them. Not
after this. Why me? Will Murphy never leave me be? Hasn't he done enough already? Torn me
apart, shattered my soul, cut me apart again and again. Every time I believe that I have nothing left
lose he proves me wrong.
Click.
A soft sound, yet it echoes through me seeming to travel upon the threads of my inner pain.
Someone closed the door. They closed the door to my room and I'm alone again, alone with my pain
and renewed grief. What right did they have to invade my privacy like that? To expose my soul like
this? I hate them both! Deep bitterness threatens to consume me. Drown me. Possess me.
A muffled scream echoes through the air.
Terror…
Fear…
Shock...
Cornered heartbeat…
Thump…
Thump…
Thump.
I'm not alone. He's here, frozen beside me, horror upon his features. The unexpected warmth of his
touch, when I should be alone, scares me, sending adrenaline through my blood. I thought he left.
What's he still doing here? Damn him to the ends of the earth and beyond. I'm trembling and all
because of him, his touch upon my skin when logically there should be none, no one, no one here to
share my grief, my pain.
He looks guilty, apologetic, a conflict of emotion upon his face. He withdraws from me, watches
me, silently waiting. What's he waiting for? The fear drains out of me and the beat of my heart
calms, resuming its silent languid beat within me, abandoning the rhythm of flight in favour of the
rhythm of life and Beau no longer waits. He reaches out towards me and pulls me into his arms, my
face against his shoulder, his arms embracing me, offering me silent comfort, sanctuary. Damn him.
I hate him for doing this to me! For breaking me! For baring my soul! Why then is his touch my
undoing?
"The FBI found the box," Beau begins softly, "under your bed. They had a search warrant and were
searching for…" He pauses, suddenly sounding incredibly uncomfortable. I can feel the tension. I
am pressed so close to him that I can feel his every movement, his every breath and the echo of
tension deep within his body, "evidence. We… Beth and I, thought you might want to keep them,
those pieces of paper. It looked like you treasured them so we thought we could find a way for you
to keep them safe. The papers were falling apart so we thought we would protect them because you
seem to value them so much." Every word is a battle for him. I can feel him struggle to express
himself and suddenly I understand the meaning of the book.
They didn't do it to hurt me, to invade my privacy and tear my secrets from me. They did it for me,
to safeguard that which I hold dear, to protect my memories. I can feel a lump, forming in the back
of my throat, hidden tears gathering together demanding to be shed. When did I become a water
feature? A sap? I should work on that not today.
Today I want to stay in his arms, cradled in this warmth that does strange things to me. I don't want
to fight anymore. I'm tired, confused, overwhelmed and in pain. I don't have the energy to fight
anymore. Not today. I half wonder if I'll ever have the energy again. I seem to have lost something
precious to me and now I don't know what to do with myself, how to define myself. I feel lost,
abandoned maybe, but at the same time, when I look around me at all those that refuse to leave me
be, I feel cared for.
His hands are gentle upon me, soothing me, his warm seeping slowly into me making me sleepy
and content. There, I admitted it! I am momentarily content. Are you happy now? I've lost
everything I know and understand and for some strange reason I'm content! Please note my
contempt for the word, a word I never in a million years would have thought to attribute to myself
before now but there you have it.
His touch is leaving me I can feel panic take hold of me. I don't want him to leave me, don't want
him to go! Damn this all to hell! When did I become so co-dependent, so needy for… for… for
him? Why him of all people? Why Beau? Beau who crashed into my life without so much as a by
your leave and has been meddling within it ever since. Who gave him licence to interfere with my
life like this? Who gave him the right to make me feel like this?
It takes me a moment of fighting irrational panic to realise that he's not going far. He's still seated
beside me, reaching for the book still in my lap, flicking it open, skimming through the pages till he
finds the one he's looking for. A black page is pasted into the book about a quarter ways through it
and thereafter, it's blank. "This…" Beau speaks softly, tracing a finger over the black page. "is the
end of that chapter in your life and this…" He turns the page drawing my attention to what is pasted
there. It's a copy of the adoption papers Beth has given me for my birthday. "is a new beginning.
The rest of the pages are blank, Dimitri. They are blank so you can fill them with new, hopefully
better memories. Never forget where you came from." He points at the first quarter of the book.
"But don't let it cloud where you are going. When one chapter ends, a new one begins, upon a blank
page."
I stare at him in disbelief. I can't believe that he just said that to me of all people! Beau is offering
me a new beginning, a new chapter.
Only the question remains… Can I reach for it?
Buried deep in cold damp earth
Some things are better left unknown, cloaked deep in the depths of darkness thus never to see the
light of day. Some secrets are best left undiscovered, unspoken, buried deep in cold damp earth.
This is not one of them.
Kia gave me only a few days of peace before pitching on Beth's doorstep waiting for me. My time
is up. I am not done telling him everything I know; everything I have been through. I'm far from
done and that realisation stops me cold. What did I think I was doing? Hoping for a new beginning,
a new chapter in my life? Beau is delusional and his words are but a mere flight of fancy. There is
no escape from what my father has done and from what he made me do. Kia's presence proves as
much. Soon he will know everything I'm guilty of and I will lose once more.
I'm so very cold and not even Lilac, curled up asleep in my lap, can warm me. Not when I know
what awaits me. I'm travelling to places I have not seen in years with only one destination in mind.
A final destination you might say. No, not mine, not yet… theirs. Kia wants me to show them where
the missing bodies are and so, here I am, alone in the back of a unmarked vehicle with Lilac curled
in my lap heading to places I do not want to see. Ever.
Before I know it, we arrive. Parked in the driveway to the second place I can remember living, in
the place he killed her, my second mother. Lilac opens her eyes, yawns and looks at me. She seems
to have some strange sixth sense, seems to know that we've arrived at our destination and wants to
go out, probably to waddle around the garden while looking for the perfect spot to… Never mind. I
think you get the idea. Surprisingly she's rather intelligent and no longer leaves random wet spots
inside. She seems to like the silent praise I pile on her when she does it outside. Attention junkie I
tell you. I pick her up and bury my nose in her fur, clenching my eyes tightly shut, trying to prolong
this just a moment longer. I don't want to face this… I… I… I just can't.
They open the door, Kia and another agent, both waiting for me to climb out and take them to her,
to the one he killed so long ago… To the one, I helped bury. Shit! I think I'm going to be sick.
Clutching Lilac close to my chest I step out, loose stones on the driveway crunching beneath my
feet, the sound echoing through me with the force of a gunshot. I'm shaking. I can't be shaking
again, always losing control of myself, my body, my mind and my soul. I can't keep doing this, any
of it.
My father wasn't always a cold hearted killer. I remember him in the days after my mother's death,
crying, cussing and yelling. He was always filled with so much anger, at himself, at her, at me. His
fits of rage were often accompanied by panic, fear and fits of paranoia. He was always looking over
his shoulder, waiting for them to come for him, waiting for them to find out. At the time, I had no
idea who they were. Now I know. He was waiting for the law to come after him for killing my
mother. Unfortunately they never did.
He seemed to calm down in time, grow quiet, withdrawn and a few weeks before we moved he
stopped talking all together, coming home late at night and leaving early in the morning. I never
saw him those days, saw no trace of him till the day he came home early, packed us up and moved
us to a new state, a new home, a new beginning he called it.
I take a few steps forward, the familiar layout of this place causing bile to rise up in my throat. I
really am going to be sick. I can already see it, the memory of it… the blood, the glassy look in her
eyes, the dark newly turned earth. I bite my lip, fighting to keep the painful whimper in place and
silently follow Kia and the other agent. I hate this. I hate having my life invaded like this by people
I don't know. I hate having the wounds of my soul slowly bared for all to see.
The coppery taste of blood upon my tongue is but an additional inconvenience that I ignore; a small
drop in the ocean of all that currently consumes me. It's nothing compared to the raw pain rising up
in waves within me, nothing compared to my unstable ragged breath, betraying me each moment,
betraying my distress. I thought I was ok with this. I thought I could deal with this but it seems I
was wrong. The pain flaring up within me is every bit as intense as the day it all happened, the day
she died.
We make our way to the backyard and each step I take weighs me down, increasing in weight.
Logically I know this feeling is all in my mind and my steps are not picking up weight as they move
forward but logic holds no reign over my domain at the moment… All I have is all consuming pain,
guilt and the heavy shackles of it all upon me. Why am I doing this? Why am I here?
My father was happy when he brought her home. Mia, my new mommy to replace my real one, the
one we lost, he said. He said I needed a mommy. That no little boy should have to grow up without
one and I almost believed him. He lost something when he killed her. My father lost a part of
himself when he killed my mother and it only took a few months of marriage to Mia for it to begin
to show. He would get moody and paranoid all over again, for no reason. He would accuse Mia of
trying to take his first wife's, my mother's, place and so war broke out in my home.
It was ugly, filled with anger and blind accusations. He was always angry at her and she would yell
right back. I can't remember how many arguments they had; how many broken dishes, tears and
bruises it took for him to snap again. He killed her. He grabbed a knife, straddled her and killed
her, stabbed her over and over again all while calling her demeaning names. Witch, slut, whore and
bitch among them. I can still hear her screams of pain, her tormented cries as she died, I can still
smell the fresh earth he made me turn to hide her mutilated body and can still remember her blood,
staining the dark furniture, blood I once again had to clean. That was the day I too lost
something… hope, sanity… and maybe even my humanity.
Somehow, through some strange feat of sheer will and stubborn pride I manage to take those last
crucial steps, make it all the way to her unmarked gravesite before I'm unable to move any further.
I'm trembling violently, frozen in place, but I'm here. Standing beside the place we buried her,
standing before the evidence of my sin, beside the secret buried in cold damp earth.
I take a moment to adjust the small body in my hands, using it as an excuse to ignore the thick lump
of terror in my throat, using Lilac to delay this but a moment longer. I realise that this is inevitable
but that doesn't make this easier to face.
Unable to delay the inevitable any longer I point down to the earth before me, earth that no longer
bears the trace of the disturbance it suffered all those years ago but I know I'm right. I am not
mistaken, Mia is buried here. I'm sure of it. It's imprinted upon my mind, fresh in my memory, as if
it happened yesterday. It may as well have because I've never been able to forget… Each and every
one… imprinted in my mind, always there, barely below the surface, hidden in shadow, ready to
haunt me at the first sign of my failing defences. My defences are shattered and now I have nothing
to hold the nightmares at bay.
I'm surprised to feel a firm hand upon my shoulder, a firm steady touch turning me away from her
grave, away from what I know lies hidden there and back towards the car. Kia is leading me away
from this, supporting my trembling body as we walk, helping me into the car.
Wait! Frantically I turn to meet his gaze, my own wide, filled with panic, horror, fear, and self
disgust, hate directed at me and only me. Why is he doing this? This action almost seems
considerate? Why is he taking me away when they still need to confirm that I'm telling the truth?
When they still need to dig up her body? Is this not my punishment?
Kia shakes his head, silently responding to all the turmoil deep within me, turmoil that I barely have
control over as it threatens to bubble over, to pour out and sweep me away. No. He is telling me no.
This is not my punishment, not my place and I, already have done enough, for now, only for now.
There are still two more to go after all. The door clicks shut and then he's gone, leaving me alone
once again, with my grief and pain… guests, companions that are visiting me far too often lately.
Maybe I should buy them cookies and offer them tea because they look like they're here to stay?
Moisture, heat, warmth, a tiny point of feeling stubbornly contradicting the ice I can feel in my
blood and it takes me a moment to realise that I've officially become a chew toy. Lilac is chewing
my fingers! The audacity! How dare she chew my fingers! Do I look like a chew toy? Do I? Wait,
don't answer that question. She's giving me a look. Yes that look and I cannot deny her. Why can I
not deny her? I was just about to withdraw, just about to flick her chin in reprimand but I can't, not
when she's giving me that look, not when she is offering me warmth…
On a sudden impulse, I gather her up and embrace her and in doing so displace her, ruining her
rather avid efforts geared towards converting me into a punctured chew toy, but I don't really care. I
allow myself to fall sideways so that I'm sprawled across the backseat and then reverently place her
back down beside me, close to me, pressed up against me so that I can feel her heat. I curl up beside
her and offer her my fingers once more. It's a small price to pay after all, a small price to pay for
that which she's offering to me, a moment of shared warmth, a moment of forgetfulness.
I am grateful.
Grateful that they let me bring her.

Undone
It's finally over and not a moment too soon. I honestly can take no more. I've told Kia everything I
know, shown him every hiding place and now I have no more left to give. I'm finally on my way
home. It's a strange concept to me. Beth has been beside me through it all, waiting for me to come
back to her each day. She wasn't allowed to go to any of the crime scenes with me but was always
waiting for me in the hotel room, embracing me after each trying day. I don't know what I would've
done without her, without her and Lilac. Lost the last fragments of the meagre sanity I still possess,
I guess.
My father killed five women starting with my mother. Beth was to be his sixth. As I said, he didn't
start out as a cold hearted serial killer but somewhere along the line he lost his heart and it all
became a game to him. My mother was an accident and Mia, well Mia was murdered in a fit of
insanity. Insanity: the perfect escape from consequence, the perfect excuse for guilt. Something tells
me he's going to make good use of this flaw in the judicial system. My father will probably plead
insanity and with what happened with Beth, he may just win.
Makayla is another story, now that was cold blooded murder. She was his first premeditated and
intentional murder, cold no matter how you look at it. It's a murder I too am directly guilty of. My
father poisoned a drink he made for her, some kind of exotic drink that neither of us had tried
before so she was unaware of the change in flavour. Although jaded, a part of me was still hopeful,
hoping that he would kill no more so when he asked me to be a good boy and take some juice to my
new mother, I didn't think twice about it. Until she started to choke and turn blue that is.
I swear I didn't know that he had poisoned the drink. I didn't even suspect. I was still so very stupid
then… blind… naive. I can still remember the cold hard look in my father's eyes as he watched her
flail, struggle and breathlessly beg for help. I can still remember his firm, relentless grip on my
shoulder, a grip that prevented me from running to her side and held me in place as we watched her
die. In comparison to my mother and Mia, hers was a clean death. That was the first that I was not
required to clean the mess.
He waited for her to die before calling the paramedics, waited for her body to still and for her to
breathe her last breath. He sounded so panicked, so honestly distressed when he called them. He
sounded desperate for them to save her when we both knew it was already too late. That was the
first and only funeral that I attended. The diagnosis was that she died of a heart attack. Even
though they were baffled by why she, a young healthy women would have one it was not entirely
unheard of and they didn't even suspect poison. I guess he chose his poison well. Makayla is the
only one that was never listed as missing, the only one her family could say goodbye to.
My father was unsatisfied with her quite death and hated the lack of media attention, the lack of
blood and violence. I could see it in the way he moved, in the light of insanity in his eyes and in the
way he absently fingered the collection of blades he managed to since acquire. Hunting blades,
kitchen blades were no longer enough. Amy, the fourth, and Sandra, the fifth, were not as fortunate
as Makayla. Kia and the FBI are unable to find Amy's body. It's the only body they are unable to
find. They already had my mother's and Makayla's body and I've shown them where Mia's and
Sandra's are. I know what my father did with Amy and I did lead Kia to the place he killed her but I
don't hold out much hope of them finding her body.
My father took us camping. It was supposed to be a weekend outdoors with campfires, fishing and
such. It ended in her death. He attacked her with one of his new blades, cut her and made her
scream, just like Mia. He seemed to like the sound of her screams and took his time, cutting into her
over and over again until finally, her voice died out. He left her, right where he killed her, left her in
the wild. Part of me, the part I buried deep within me was horrified, mad with all I had seen but
another part of me, a selfish part, the part of myself that I hate with a passion was relieved. Again, I
didn't have to clean, didn't have to stain my hands with her blood, did not have to turn the earth
required to hide the evidence of his actions, our sin.
He told everyone we accidentally got separated. Of course there was a search party but he lied. The
wilderness is a big place and he lied about our route. It's been years since and if you know anything
about the wilderness you will know why they are unable to find her.
The last, Sandra, died at home, like the others, bound and gagged so that she would not be heard as
he played with her, tied to the bed as he played games with his blades. He really likes his blades,
always did. He likes the blood, likes cutting into them over and over again occasionally getting
creative as he did so. The only one he did not cut was Makayla but he didn't want to wait for the
authorities to declare her presumed dead after a prolonged period of being listed as missing. He
needed to get out of town you see.
Each story, each destination cut into me all over again this time, I had nothing to protect myself
from the pain. My defences are shattered, my emotions are bare and I'm cold and dead inside. Beth
is beside me, Lilac curled in her lap and anger seems to radiate off of her but I barely notice. I'm
cold… lifeless… gone. This… this journey… this confession has stripped me bare and I can no
longer find it within me to feel at all. Strangely enough, there is no pain, no agony, grief or guilt,
only… nothing… accompanied by a rather deadly all consuming chill.
The car barely manages to grind to a halt when I find myself moving, torn from the car by an
insistent grasp. It's Beau. He's pulling me out of the car and he looks downright frantic. What is he
doing here? At Beth's home? Isn't he supposed to be at home? His home? "You said you'd look after
him! You said you'd make sure he didn't get hurt! You promised Kia!" I flinch. He is screaming,
yelling at the top of his voice and the sheer volume threatens to overwhelm me. One thing is certain,
Beau is raging mad. "And then I hear he suffered two violent panic attacks! Two! Your return from
your trip for evidence was delayed because he suffered a panic attack and you still didn't come
back! Why Kia?! You promised!"
I can't believe his words and the pure anger behind them, all on my behalf. Why is he doing this on
my behalf? Does he not know that it no longer matters? That I no longer feel anything at all? What's
the point in fighting the inevitable after all? It's nothing but wasted effort.
"You promised Kia." Beau repeats his words on a whisper and they seem to echo through the thick
silence that surrounds us. Not waiting for a response, Beau spins around and begins to drag me
away from the car, away from Kia, the FBI and everything that's just happened. A soft sound seems
to follow after us. It's Beth's voice, calling after us. I only catch two words. "withdrawn…
unresponsive."
***
Thick uncomfortable silence threatens to suffocate me the moment we're alone, Beau and I. Beth
silently opened the door and Kia didn't even bother to follow us in. The moment the door was open
Beau dragged me inside, up the stairs and to my room. Now, we're locked in silence.
Surprising Beau is the first to break the silence. Okay, maybe not so surprisingly. He does, after all,
still have a voice. "Are you okay?" He questions me softly, trailing his fingers over my skin. For
once, his touch draws absolutely no reaction from me. I ignore him, his question and his attempt to
reach out to me. There's no point to any of this anyway. I'm already dead inside after all, empty,
blank and lifeless.
"Dimitri.' His voice is rising and I can hear the thread of distress in it. "Please say something. Please
talk to me." Does he really think begging is going to accomplish anything? Does he really think I
have anything left to give? I tune him out, withdraw from him completely and shut myself off to the
point that I can no longer see him or hear him, where for all intents and purposes, he no longer
exists to me.
Darkness and silence. I am buried in it, consumed by it, part of it. Undone. I am numb from the
inside out because I can no longer take the pain. It's better this way. Better to shut myself off from
the world, from emotion, from sensation so why, why do I feel moist heat invading my haven?
Tearing me away from this darkness and back into the world of touch, back into the world of
pleasure and pain?
Beau is kissing me! His tongue is aggressively thrusting into my mouth, giving me no quarter, no
choice but to submit to him. He's consuming me, all of me, my breath, my skin, my lips and perhaps
even my soul. "I won't let you." He gasps, his breath ragged between kisses, heated upon my now
sensitive lips. "I won't let you!" I can taste the coppery flavour of my own blood upon my tongue.
He bit me! When did he manage to bite me?! The audacity! "I won't let you withdraw into
yourself." Slick warmth aggressively invades my mouth once more, his tongue lapping up my
blood, his teeth biting my lip, the sharp pain soothed by his tongue, only to be replaced by pain once
more, the cycle renewed. "I won't let you run away from me, Dimitri!"
Damn him! Damn the interfering, pink and purple streaked idiot to hell and beyond. Why won't he
let me die? Not physically, not emotionally! Why is he forcing me to feel again?! Waking the pain,
the pleasure and tears once more?! I'm crying, damn it! Tears are pouring down my face and it's all
because of him! Beau and his incessant interference!
Warrior
Time no longer has any meaning to me. One day seems to merge into the next in an endless exodus
towards no goal whatsoever. Life goes on. Everything is too normal and it makes no sense to me.
I've told Kia everything. I have told him how I was made to clean blood after three of the murders,
how I turned earth for two, how I knew it wouldn't end, that one day… I would be next. Yet, I'm
still here, free, living my life as if nothing has changed yet everything has.
After everything I've confessed to, they didn't arrest me and that makes no sense to me, whatsoever.
The FBI is preparing for a trial, preparing to convict my father as a serial killer, yet no one has
arrested me for the part I had to play in all this. I don't understand why? Beau says it's because I've
done nothing wrong but that's not true. I was there. I watched each and every one die. I helped him
hide the evidence. That makes me an accomplice, no matter how you look at it.
Life goes on. Why does life seem to, oh so casually, go on? Day after day, school, therapy, work,
home. It's all so routine, so casual. Shouldn't the impact of this secret be greater? Shouldn't my life
be over now that the secret I've hidden for so many years is free? Yet, my life, the life I want
nothing to do with, persistently goes on! It seems as if nothing and everything has changed, all at
once, and I don't know how to deal with it.
School has gotten hellishly awkward. They know. They all know that my father is a serial killer and
consequently, I'm not all that popular there. I can see what you're thinking. You would think that I
would be happy with this turn of events seeing as I never wanted to be popular, never wanted to be
liked. Only problem is that instead of being invisible, I'm now the centre of some very negative
attention and that's not exactly what I had in mind.
Beau is always at my side, always watching me and chasing all my 'would be' bullies away. I guess
that it shouldn't be all that surprising seeing how much like a leech Beau has become of late. I think
he thinks I will do something stupid. He's both wrong and right, depending on how one looks at it
and on how one defines stupid. He would define it as stupid. I would not. I still don't see what value
my life has to anyone and don't really have a great desire to live it any longer. Not after everything I
have done and if they won't punish me, I will.
Anyway, inner contemplation aside, I guess I'm not all that surprised by the fact that Beau is
protecting me. I've almost come to expect it from him, but it makes me kind of sad. Beau's life has
changed because of me. He is no longer that carefree jock that flutters from group to group, getting
along with everyone while never joining a clique. He has enemies now. People he used to call
friends and all because of his choice to stay by my side. Why would he choose me over them?
Alex is still by my side. After everything that's happened he's still by my side, encouraging me to
express myself using the panpipes that, strangely enough, I seem to be getting a hang of now. Go
figure. I'm given a voice when it's the last thing I need. Oh, and let's not forget speech therapy.
Some bright spark, give them a medal, figured out that I'm not actually mute. Even so, I find it near
on impossible to articulate anything so now, on top of seeing a shrink I also have a speech therapist.
Oh the joys of the medical profession and finding new ways to take advantage of all the possible
benefits it may provide. Yup. My sarcasm is back. Not in its former glory but hey! Cut me some
slack here.
Back to the topic at hand. Alex doesn't care what anyone says about me. According to him and I
quote, life is too short to have your choices influenced by childish people that are too blind to see
the true value in others. He said that he can be friends with whomever he damn well pleases. I was
shell shocked. Alex actually cussed! Apparently whomever he damn well pleases is currently
defined as me. He's even taken to following me around after school and I'm now under explicit
instructions to make him take it easy and to call emergency should anything happen to him. These
instructions were handed to me by a small rather formidable looking woman who can only be his
mother. He looks almost exactly like her. The thought of something happening to Alex scares me. I
still don't know what's wrong with him. Part of me wants to know and another part of me wants to
stay in denial.
Josh's place is still alive and kicking. Strangely enough, he didn't go bankrupt after temporarily
losing two employees, the only two employees that I know of mind you. I heard he closed the shop
entirely which makes me wonder. Does he actually need the income or is running the music shop
some kind of eccentric hobby of his? Something tells me it's the latter. Alex and Josh get along like
a house on fire. Yes, Alex manages to even follow me to work, though once there, I rarely ever see
him and when I do, he's always at Josh's side, talking rather animatedly about music. The few times
I bothered to listen what they were talking about managed to overwhelm me with facts and figures I
cannot even begin to comprehend let alone understand. Seems Alex also has a passion for anything,
and I repeat anything to do with music. I think the violin Josh loves so much will soon have a
master but don't take my word on it. Wait and see.
So many changes in my life yet the most surprising one is Laura. I think global warming is far more
dangerous than any of us could've ever imagined because Laura is now hanging out with Alex, Beau
and I. In fact, it's she that more often than not chases Kevin away. I'm sure you all remember Kevin,
a nice strapping young man who plays football and in his spare time practices his language skills in
the form of derogatory remarks while finding interesting ways to work out.
Laura doesn't say much but when she does, let's just say that performing half naked in the bathroom
with tongue down someone else's throat is not the only way to embarrass someone. She's taken to
giving Beau and I some rather interesting advice, featuring things I don't even want to contemplate,
let alone try. Worst of all, they feature Beau and I together doing intimate things. Beau, damn him,
doesn't even protest. Instead he drops his gaze and shifts, a strange smile upon his lips and a flush
upon his skin. I'm going to assume that the flush is due to distress and embarrassment at Laura's
rather ridiculous suggestions. Something tells me I don't want to know the meaning of that smile,
though!
Let us take one step back here. Beau and I are not together to begin with, so why would we, he,
even contemplate doing anything let alone what (insert chocking here) Laura suggests? Moving
right along. Stranger still Laura hasn't even mentioned her aunt to me. Not once. She now knows
what happened to Makayla. I told her. Or should I say I signed and Beau told her? He didn't look
too happy with me for saying what I said but I wanted her to know the truth. I told her what I did
the first day that she joined us for lunch at school and she point blank ignored me. She didn't even
react, calmly eating her sandwich, seated beside me as if it were the most natural thing in the world
to do. Go figure. I'll never understand the female mind let alone what drives someone like Laura.
Now I know that all of this is actually far from normal in any sense of the term, I know my life has
in actual fact changed drastically but in comparison to what I expected, my life is far too normal.
Here I am, living day to day as if nothing ever happened, going to school, playing the panpipes and
working all while surrounded by people that call themselves my friends, a new mother and a puppy
that won't leave my side without being restrained against her will. The only thing that seems to go
against what is traditionally defined as normal are my visits to a psychologist and a speech therapist
and even those are not as unusual as one might think.
I've heard nothing about my father, except for the fact that the killings are going to go to trial and
the trial date has yet to be set. Please note, when I say nothing, I'm excluding the media. There is
little truth and a great amount of sensationalism to what they say. The truth is far, far darker. I'm
sick of them. I'm sick of all the flashing lights, all the questions and all the assumptions they make
when I say nothing. They are vultures that hone in on the carcass of a dead animal just to pick it
clean. They seem to be leaving me alone now, but it's far from over. They will be back to claim the
little scraps of my soul they may have missed the first time they ravaged me, exposing all my
wounds for all to see. I hate them with every fibre of my being.
"Dimitri! Are you even listening to me?!" I jump, suddenly torn from my inner contemplation of the
meaning of life, the universe, everything and the number 42. Okay, maybe not quite. My life has
little bearing on the meaning of life and existence and 42? Let's not even go there. Beau glances at
me, frowning in concern before facing forward once more. "Are you alright, Dimitri?" He questions
softly, flicking the indicator and turning right.
Yes, you're not delusional. Beau can actually drive. He's taking me somewhere. I can't tell you
where because I myself have not faintest idea. He insists that it's a surprise. I don't think I like the
sound of that. I rub my arms, trying to rid myself of the chill that always seems to have me in its
grip. It's always there, present deep within me along with the expectation of being torn apart once
more. Murphy can't be done with me yet. Not after all the affection he's shown me recently.
'Yeah.' I sign carefully, ignoring the tension deep within me as well as the uncertainty and confusion
that have taken up permanent residence within me. I also ignore the betrayal of my body. I've lost
control of my muscles, my body and tend to tremble more often than not. I'm scared. I'm terrified of
what lies behind me, before me and around me. I don't want to lose this delusion of a second chance
that I've been given but I just know that it's inevitable.
The car slides gracefully to a halt. Beau really is a good driver, rather strange for someone his age. I
mean, aren't teenagers supposed to be reckless? However, he's not as graceful once outside the car,
or is it me? Beau is once again dragging me towards an unknown destination and I'm suddenly
reminded of our first meeting, reminded of the day my life as I knew it ended and my defences first
started to fall apart. Now, like then, he does not wait for me to agree to go with him and now, as
then, he will ignore any protest I may even attempt to make.
I barely register the guard at the door as Beau rushes past him, grinning and waving like a maniac
before dragging me into a building. Left, right, right, left, right and then… I skid to a sudden shell
shocked halt. This is… I'm standing before our art project. "We won." Beau whispers into my ear,
wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin upon my shoulder from behind. How did
he manage to get behind me?
His touch is warm, pleasant and sends a hum of electricity coursing through me but I ignore it in
favour of what's before me: Our incomplete art project and yes, it's still incomplete only now, it
looks deliberate. My dragon hangs beside his warrior and the two, create symmetry. Both paintings
are incomplete yet balanced. The detail of my painting leans towards left and Beau's towards the
right, seeming to create a deliberate balance between the two paintings that's in actual fact nothing
more than due to me being right handed and him being left handed. The detail flows into the base
coats we each applied; which then flow into the white of the canvas that we had yet to paint. The
effect… is amazing but it's not that which draws my gaze. What truly holds me in place, pulls at my
heart strings and draws me in is the warrior, Beau's warrior, a wounded warrior with a mixture of
determination, pain and defeat upon his face. The warrior is me.

Lost within my wayward heart

My throat is constricting in on me, suffocating me, strangling me and I can't breathe. They want to
me testify! Against my own father! I can't. I cannot get up in court and testify against my own
father! My father! My own flesh and blood! How can I testify against him when I'm every bit as
tainted as he is? I can't breathe, damn it. Everything is rushing in on me, roaring in my ears,
pressing down on me and I can't breathe!
"Breathe, Dimitri. Come on, hun, breathe." A soft voice echoes through my mind, accompanied by
the scent of lilacs. Her touch drifts in and out of my awareness, there yet at the same time not as I'm
lost in darkness, pain and panic. I can't do this. I can't go through it again! Is there truly no escape
for me, truly no way I can put it all behind me? This keeps coming back, to haunt me, over and over
again and I just know that they're going to tear me apart. The lawyers are going to tear me apart.
Suddenly, he's there, embracing me, cradling me, his voice echoing through my mind, warped and
indistinct. I can't ignore his touch. It burns, tingles and hums, reacts with my skin, harmonises with
my very soul and draws me towards him, ever towards him. The scent of lilacs shift then fades
leaving the scent that is uniquely his to overwhelm me. "Breathe, Dimitri." He orders, his hands
burning my skin. "Come on, damn it. Just breathe. In, out. You can do it, Dimitri." I can feel the
rhythm of his breath upon my cheek and I focus upon it, concentrate on it and allow it to consume
my very thoughts as I imitate its shift and flow, in and out, in and out, slow repetitive rhythm, a beat
and sweet, sweet air.
The darkness distorts and fades. The roaring in my ears dies out and I'm once again aware of that
which surrounds me, his warmth, his touch and the gentle sound of his breath mingling with mine
as I pant into the silence fighting for the air. He's gently holding me in his arms and I can hear the
beat of his heart. I'm curled into him, my right cheek pressed tightly up against his chest, the fingers
of his left hand intertwined with mine, gripping me tightly, almost as if he's afraid that I'm going to
slip away from him.
It takes me a while to get my breathing under control once more, my panic still very much present
within me. My breath is erratic, shifting in pace each time I lose concentration, each time my
thoughts drift from Beau and his touch back to that which initially instigated my panic attack and I
continue to desperately fight it back. I can't allow my body to betray me once more. I have meds for
this but I don't want to take them. I hate them. They make me feel lost, cold and so very lonely. I am
not psychotic, damn it! I have every reason to feel the way I feel. Screw medication and sedation to
hell and beyond! I want nothing to do with it. I've already lost so much of myself. I don't want to
lose anymore.
Thankfully, Beau doesn't ask me to take the medication. He knows that the doctors have prescribed
medication to help me deal with my panic attacks but not once has he tried to get me to take it.
Instead, he holds me, talks to me and waits for my panic to pass, waits for me to react to him once
more. I notice that we're now alone. Kia and Beth seem to have left the room and Beau and I, aside
from Lilac curled up on the chair beside me, are now alone. Something tells me, he has something
to do with it. 'I… I can't do this.' I sign, suddenly missing the touch of his fingers intertwined with
mine. I move my hand to speak and Beau, perceptive as he is, releases it so that I may sign. My
body is trembling violently but I ignore it. 'I… He's my father. How am I supposed to testify against
him?'
Beau sighs and the movement carries over to me, causing my body to shift along with his and for a
moment it's almost as if I'm part of him. "I know it's hard." Beau runs his fingers through my hair,
catching stray strands between his fingers and absently rearranging them. The movement is
soothing, so very familiar, as much a part of him as those pink and purple streaks of his. It's a
movement I've come to expect and enjoy.
"I know you want this to go away, to just let you be, to let you live your life in peace. I know you
wish none of it had ever happened, wish it had nothing to do with you and wish the police and
media would just leave you the hell alone," His fingers tense in my hair and his ragged breath draws
my gaze to him. Something is wrong here, very, very wrong. "But… it won't…" Beau's voice is
strained, full of pain that has little to do with me right now. He's lost in his own pain, lost in
memories, here yet not. "It's not that simple. This is something you can't run away from, something
you have to face."
Beau's breath is ragged, his face is strained and he seems to be fighting an inner battle with himself.
It scares me to see Beau coming undone, falling apart and I'm hopeless, stranded and confused.
Why is Beau hurting so much? Why is this happening? Why do I feel so helpless? I reach out, my
hands trembling and bury my fingers in his hair. It's soft, silky, all the way through. I thought his
bangs would be coarse due to being dyed and all but they're not. They are every bit as silky soft as
the rest of his hair, flowing through my fingers, imitating the viscosity of water.
My hands slide through his hair, play with those strands in the same way he plays with mine and the
next thing I know I'm moving. I want to reach out to him. I want to comfort him. I want to wipe that
pain from his face, his voice, and his eyes. Warmth and a scent unique to him overwhelms me once
again as I bury my face in his shoulder, awkwardly embracing him. I'm so helpless. I can't even
comfort him properly. I hate myself with a passion. He moves, his arms making their way around
me so that it's I and not he that's cradled and held close. Damn my height, my fears and my sheer
helplessness.
"It's hard." Beau whispers and I can feel a tremble in his body. "It's so very, very hard. I know it's
hard, Dimitri but you need to do it. If not for yourself, then for them… for all those innocent
women he hurt… killed. If not for yourself, do it for them. It's the least you could do." He's
trembling and it scares me. Beau is hurting. He's not supposed to hurt, not supposed to be weak, not
supposed to be filled with this anguish and I know there's more to this than me, my father and the
murders.
I pull away from him and it takes every strand of courage and more than a few of insanity to meet
his pain filled gaze. It's wounding me from the inside out and this time the pain isn't mine. It's his.
My hands are on his face, on his cheeks and this time it's my turn to silently search his gaze. "I
know how you feel, Dimitri," He continues, every ragged whispered word tearing into me anew,
"the confusion, the pain, the fear, the guilt and most of all the all consuming self hatred. I know how
it feels. I lied to you." I swear, my very heart stops beating and I'm no longer breathing, time,
motion, words, life, breathe, all of it, frozen in anticipation and denial. Beau lied to me. "I… When I
said… when I said that I wasn't gay, I lied to you Dimitri." A sudden rush, a roar, an implosion of
relief, confusion and anxiety and suddenly everything slides back into place, life resumes its hum
and I'm breathing once more, my breath ragged and torn.
"I… Three years ago I dated a guy. His name was Matthew Jennings…" Matthew Jennings? What
does this have to do with anything? Wait, Matthew? Beau is telling me about Mattie! "He uh… he
was the…" He's withdrawing from me, his gaze no longer locked upon mine, his arms dropping to
his side and his body shifting away from me. I let him go. I let him withdraw, suddenly consumed
by a deep bone chilling cold that even Beau's touch fails to chase away. "He was the captain of the
football team and I was the crazy artistic kid, the maths whiz and the resident faggot." Beau's voice
is filled with derision and bitterness. "I got teased a lot. Mattie's friends, liked to pick on me so
when he asked me out I was shell shocked."
Silence…
A moment of silence…
An instant…
An eternity…
Time, no longer has any meaning to me and this hollow pain deep within me is new. Why does this
hurt so much? Why does it feel like I'm losing something? Beau's words are echoing through the
emptiness within me and each one seems to wound me further, shattered shards of glass cutting into
me once more. Something beside me shifts and I can feel the silky warmth of short black hair
attached to a small body, wriggling its way beneath my hand but I ignore it, too lost in the impact of
Beau's words to truly comprehend Lilac's attempt at comfort. "At first, I couldn't believe it. That
Matthew Jennings, the most popular, best looking guy at school could possibly be interested in
someone like me, the school freak." Beau laughs, but there's no happiness in the sound, only
bitterness, hatred, self derision and maybe a touch of insanity. Oh how well I know the emotion. "It
really was unbelievable and highly unlikely but I liked him. I had a crush on him for about a year,
so when he asked me out I didn't think about it for too long and agreed. He was my everything, my
first, and I loved him with all my heart. To me he could do no wrong."
I feel betrayed, empty and lost. Compared to Matthew, Mattie, I'm nothing and it's tearing me apart.
I shift, fighting the tears of loss that threaten to escape me and swallow past the lump lodged in my
throat. Beau is still avoiding my gaze, absently picking at the seat before him, ignoring the silence
between us for a moment longer. "He hurt me." Beau whispers and the words echo through the
tense air between us and suddenly I hate Mattie with every fibre of my being. "He… It… It was a
joke. He told his friends that it was a joke, that he wanted to screw with me... get me into bed."
Beau's words waver, die and horror courses through me as their meaning seeps into my
understanding. How could he? How could anyone do that to Beau? How could anyone be so cruel?
I want to kill him, tear him apart and inflict great pain upon him and the urge brings my thoughts to
a sudden stand still.
No… please… no! I pale, the blood rushing from my face, chill consuming all of me. I'm a killer.
Please no! I'm just like my father. I… I… Nibble… wet warmth and tiny teeth… Lilac is nibbling
on my fingers. "We argued the day I found out. He told me it wasn't a big deal. Told me I should
lighten up and not take it so hard. Told me it was only innocent fun but I loved him and it hurt."
Beau chokes, pausing in his tale once more to run trembling hands through his hair, my own hands
tingling at the memory of the silky strands running through my fingers. I fight the urge to reach out
towards him and run my fingers through that hair again, instead running them through the silky
softness of Lilac's fur.
Deep sadness has replaced my desire to kill Mattie and now all that matters is Beau and his pain. "I
told him I hated him, told him he should just die and go to hell and he laughed at me. He and all his
friends just laughed at me. All of it was a big joke to them, after all. That was the end of our
relationship, the end of all my dreams and the end of my happiness. I wanted to die. All I wanted
was to curl up and die. I lost my first love, my first kiss, my virginity and my trust all to one guy
and suddenly I was the laughing stock of the whole school. It was hell. Every day of my life became
living hell on earth and I could no longer look at myself in the mirror but the worst, the worst was
still to come."
I don't want to hear anymore because I know it's not going to be good. Before I can think better of
it, I reach out towards him and a whimper of pain tears through the air, my whimper of pain and
before I can touch him, he resumes the tale, locking me in place once more, torn between horror,
curiosity and pain. "Mattie," It's an endearment. He really did love Matthew, after everything that
bastard did to him Beau still loves him and that hurts. "Mattie died two days later. He went to a
party with his friends and got drunk. They got into an argument and he left. He died in a car
accident. He was driving while under the influence of alcohol. He drove into a brick wall. His
friends said it was my fault."
He's picking strands of thread from the couch we're seated on. Pick, pick, pick and his words, they
echo through me, muffled, distorted yet clear, searing their meaning into my mind. Wait a minute!
How the hell can a drunken driving accident be his fault?! "The argument was about me. Someone
overheard them arguing and told me that Mattie wanted to apologise to me but his friends, well,
they thought it was stupid. They told him it was only a joke and he should lighten up." Another one
of those insane giggles escapes Beau's lips, a sound that scares me more than anything my father
has ever done. Beau should not laugh like that. Empty and bitter and hurt. "Rather ironic, don't you
think. That he would hear the words he said to me. Apparently he got mad and stormed out. That
was the last time anyone saw him alive."
Beau sounds completely and utterly forlorn and I see myself in him. "His friends said it was my
fault. They said I killed him and I should be made to pay." Wait a minute. This story is not done
yet?! What more could there be? Pay? Oh no. "They came after me to beat me up. I was walking
with Layla. We were going out for ice-cream and they came after me." I'm cold, so very, very cold
and deep down and I know what's coming next. I can see it, in the way he speaks, in the way he
moves and in sense of dark premonition that hangs in the air. "Instead, they hurt her." Beau chokes
on his words, pale bitter and filled with pain. "I couldn't protect her. It's all my fault. I couldn't even
protect my little sister from a beating that was meant for me and they laughed while they did it.
They laughed while they beat my little sister in front of me! And when they were done, when she
was nothing but bloodied and limp before them, they left. They told me I deserved to feel the pain
of someone close to me getting hurt. They left me alone with her bloodied body and laughed at me
as they left."
Silence
I am lost.
I am lost in a sea of emotion.
Lost within my wayward heart.
All of time in slow motion.
With words tearing me apart.

Unexpected disclosure
"They told me I deserved to feel the pain of someone close to me getting hurt. They left me alone
with her bloodied body and laughed at me as they left. My father took them to court and I had to
testify against them." Beau's whispered words echo between us and suddenly I begin to understand.
I now know what connection all of this has to me. It makes sense now, how he just seems to know
how I feel. "One of them, one of the guys that beat Layla up, was Mattie's brother."
Silence.
A heavy awkward silence hangs in the air between us, Beau's pain flowing through me. How could
they do this to him? To Layla? How could the sick bastards do that to an innocent little girl? I shift,
suddenly feeling awkward, lost, and more than a little helpless. Beau is hurting and I want nothing
more than to wipe that pain clean away. It wasn't his fault. None of it was his fault. How could he
even think to blame himself for something he had no control over?
Shit! I fight back a gasp of sudden realisation. So that's what he's doing? He is reliving his own
pain, his own guilt, his own tragedy to prove something to me? I want to cry. I want to weep with
remorse and regret, for him, for Layla and for me. There's so much emotion deep within me,
shifting, changing, moving, seeking release, demanding that I stop hesitating and actually do
something for a change. I shift again, this time, only one goal in mind. I want to touch him. I want
to comfort him. I want to see his eyes again.
Feeling Lilac slipping against me, I hesitate but only long enough to scoop her up, cradle her in the
palm of my right hand and then I'm moving again, shifting closer to Beau and all but crawling in his
lap. I don't pause, don't allow myself to think or to consider the consequences of my actions and for
once in my life allow myself to act entirely on impulse. I'm in his lap now, curled up against him;
Lilac, looking more than a little confused, resting upon my abdomen. His green eyes, touched by
grief, are now filled with surprise and confusion. Taking advantage of that confusion, I reach up
with my left hand, holding Lilac in place with my right, and thread my fingers into his hair once
again and the next thing I know, I can feel the soft silky touch of his lips against mine.
I give him only a brief kiss, a mere brush of skin against skin, a whisper of touch but the impact it
has on him, on me, is monumental. He's staring at me in sheer shock and for once, Beau is at a loss
for words. "Dim… Dim… Dimitri?" His voice is husky, breathless and somehow manages to send
shivers down my spine. There's so much pain echoing between us, so much shared pain seeming to
inevitably draw us closer together but at the same time there's pleasure. His husky voice sends
tendrils of pleasure mixed with excitement coursing through me. Damn, he's like a drug and I'm
high on him alone, his voice, the silk of his hair and the velvet of his skin.
I'm losing my sanity but for some reason, I no longer care. All I want is to comfort him, touch him,
share his pain and maybe more. I want more of this because, if only for a moment, the touch of his
heated skin against mine, helps me forget. Ignoring the uncertainty and the confusion waging war
within me I lean up and capture his lips once more. I don't want to talk, don't want to think, all I
want is to feel the comfort of his touch, to taste the flavour upon his lips and to savour that heat I'm
so getting addicted to. Forget. Let's forget my father, the trial, those bastards that hurt Layla and
Mattie. Most of all I want to forget Mattie. I want him to forget Mattie.
Touch, taste, heat, scent, sensation and escape... so much to overwhelm me, to distract me, to drive
my addiction ever higher. He tastes like mint mixed with heat and strangely enough, I can't get
enough of him. I attack his mouth, his lips, his tongue, drawing his heat and flavour into my mouth,
always wanting more. I hate him. I hate him for doing this to me, for drawing me in like this and for
feeding my addiction. I hate him and everything he represents and I swear I will not let him leave
me!
"Dimitri." I jerk away from Beau as if burned hastily reaching out to keep Lilac from slipping off of
me. Shock and fear course through me. Beth just saw me kiss Beau. Scratch that, Beth and Kia just
caught us kissing! Damn! Now what? I can't breathe, my heart is pounding in my chest and my
blood roars its way back into me head. They saw! What was I thinking? Why did I do that? Why
now? I'm such an idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot! How could I do something like that?! How could I just
kiss Beau without so much as a by your leave? I am such an idiot, but it was good, so very, very
good. So good in fact that I can still feel the touch of his lips, the warmth of his breath mingling
with mine, the velvet if his skin, his hands cradling my cheeks, the moisture of his tongue in my
mouth sending fire through my veins.
Hold on.
His hands on my cheeks? His hands were not on my face when I kissed him! He's kissing me! "It's
okay, Dimitri!" Whispered words, warm breath, soft touch. Beau is still kissing me, in front of Beth
and Kia and… and… and… Damn it all to hell! I don't care anymore. I've nothing left to lose and
Beau is old enough to know what he's doing to me. I return his embrace but this time it's different.
Not passionate, heated or desperate. No, this time the kiss is soft, gentle and filled with… filled
with… A whimper is torn from my throat as he withdraws. I hate that whimper with a passion
because it makes me sound weak, wanton and wounded, but it's there none the less. I have no
control over my voice, no control over the garbled sounds Beau tears from me without my consent
and no control over the confusion and rush of emotion that he frees deep within me.
"It's okay." Beau whispers to me, still ignoring Beth and Kia's presence, capturing me completely.
He rests his forehead against mine, the warmth of his hands still cradling my cheeks and I'm truly
held captive. His hands slip from my face, down my body and slowly slip down, lower… and
lower… and lower… until he cradles my hands in his. His fingers brush over my skin and he
carefully opens my hands.
He gently takes Lilac from my grasp, Lilac whom I held close to my chest, Lilac whom I had all but
forgotten. Lilac squirms in protest as he takes her from me but he ignores her. He reaches behind me
and carefully places my puppy on a pillow and then suddenly pulls me against his chest. "We're
dating!" He declares, his words ringing through my ears. What?! Whaaaaat?! Did he… did he
just… What?! He couldn't have! "I'm gay, Kia. I can't run away from it anymore. Dimitri is my
boyfriend. I'm not letting him go and I don't care if you approve or not. I don't care if you think he's
screwed up. I just don't care. I want him. He's mine."
I'm dizzy. The world is spinning around me, spinning, blurring, definition and form fading from my
sight. Colour, so much colour, blurring, merging losing meaning to me. Did he? Did Beau just? Did
Beau just tell them? We're dating? Since when?!
"I know." Shit! Those words… Kia's soft spoken words… He knows?!!! How could Kia know when
I know nothing about this?!!! I mean should I not be the first to know about this development that
Beau has just dropped onto me like a ton of bricks? It takes two to date, does it not? You know the
saying, two to tango. How can Kia know something I don't?! Especially when one of the
participants in this relationship that I know nothing about, is me! "I've known for some time now.
You misunderstand me, Beau. I never had a problem with you being gay. I had a problem with you
running away from who you are, running away from everything you were before he hurt you." A
heavy pause hangs in the air before he speaks again. "I'm glad to see you've stopped running." My
world shifts and I can no longer tell if it is from within or from without. I can hear every sound,
every shift; every breath. Kia is beside us, I can feel his very presence. Beau tenses, the tension
courses through him and into me and then Kia shifts again, the tension in Beau's body changes to
that which accompanies surprise before draining completely. Kia and Beth are leaving, pausing in
the doorway, looking at us and then…
"We just came to tell you dinner will be ready soon." Beth's warm voice washes over me. There's no
shock, no hatred and no disgust in her tone. All I can hear is warmth, affection and maybe, hidden
in the depth of it, concern. I can't describe the relief I feel right now. Beth, doesn't hate me for
kissing Beau. Thank God, she doesn't hate me, a pause, a whisper and then parting words from Beth
that echo through my soul. "It's okay, Dimitri." So little, to mean so much…
He's running his fingers through my hair, a soft, gentle touch that draws my gaze to his, the
confusion within me apparent upon my face. I have lost so much; my ability to speak, my dark
solitary sanctuary, my secret, my father, my sanity, my identity and now my heart. Damn him for
taking it from me. Damn him for taking the last thing I had left from me with nothing more but a
few carelessly spoken words. I hate him with every fibre of my being and damn, I'm never letting
him go!
"You're mine." He whispers, holding my gaze with his and I swear, for a moment, I can see a
glimpse of his soul. "No matter what you or anyone else says, you're already mine." He places a
finger upon my lips, trails it down and retrains my hands, almost as if to restrain any protest I may
make. It's a futile gesture. I too lost in the warmth of his touch, the desperate desire in his gaze and
the shock of what's happening to even think of protesting. He drops another kiss onto my lips, a
soft, gentle touch I long for and completely addicted to. He has me utterly mesmerized, frozen in
place in wonder, shock and confusion. "I already know you want to be… " Kiss. "All mine…"
Another. "I need you." Warm breath. Moist heat. "You need me." Gentle words. "Please." Velvet.
Mint. "Be mine."
Ding dong!
I nearly leap out of my skin at the sound, the loud ring tearing into me with shocking force. Who on
earth decided to ring the doorbell now! Does Murphy want me to die from a heart attack?!
"I'll get it." Beau's soft voice breaks into the adrenaline that clouds my mind as he slips away from
me No! Wait! Don't leave me! I want to cry out. I want to call him back, to finish, what he started
but my voice fails me. Leaping up I follow after him, desperate to tell him. I need to tell him. I can't
let this just end without telling him. Wait a minute, tell him what?
Frozen.
My world is frozen in place, spiralling out of control. Everything slips by me in slow motion and
I'm unable to comprehend the world around me. My heart is beating like a drum and my mind is
lost in a sea of confusion. He's standing before me, pale and frozen in place. Beau looks like he's
about to pass out. What the hell?
My gaze shifts and suddenly the vague urgency to tell him something fades into the back of my
mind and concern to the fore. Someone I've never seen in my life is standing at the door and Beau
looks like he is about to be sick. Somewhere from the corner of my mind I am aware of Kia
approaching and then, all hell breaks loose.
Click.
A gun.
He's pointing a gun…
Kia is pointing a gun at the person in the doorway.

Making sense of it all

Kia is pointing his gun at some stranger in the doorway! Why is Kia even drawing his gun? Time
seems to stand still. Silent threat hangs in the air and I seem to be trapped, on the outside looking in.
The man in the doorway raises his hands in submission, his gaze locked with Kia's, and remains
deathly still. Smart move, I wager, because Kia doesn't look impressed. "Get out." Kia snarls sheer
animosity pouring off of him in waves.
"I only came to talk." The stranger's voice is smooth, calm and relaxed. It's almost as if the gun is
not present in this situation at all. Not to the stranger at the door, that is. I on the other hand am very
much aware of the gun, the animosity and the silent threat in Kia's stance. It's kind of hard to miss.
Yet, at the same time it's so ridiculous that it doesn't feel real. Kia is fuming. Beau is pale and the
stranger at the door seems to take it all in stride. Run, idiot! Kia is serious! I mean, what part of
standing at the business end of a gun does not scream run?
"Get out before I shoot you. Don't think I won't. I should've done it years ago." Kia's voice is cold,
harsh and filled with conviction and the air is heavy with negative emotion. I'm confused. This
behaviour; this entire situation is not like them, not like Kia, not like Beau. Kia is barely in control
of himself and Beau looks like he's about to be sick. I'm missing something. Standing on the
outside, looking in, with no idea as to what's going on here. "Now!" I jump, the sheer command and
authority in Kia's tone, demanding obedience from even me, yet I know I've done nothing wrong.
The stranger at the door sighs, slowly drops his arms, turns and leaves… just like that, without a
word, without protest, yet time seems to remain frozen in place filled with anticipation and tension.
Click. Beth closes the front door and time seems to rush into motion once more. The gun in Kia's
hand vanishes without a trace, almost as if it were but a figment of my imagination and Beau seems
to sink in on himself, leaning against the wall, pale and tense. I can feel the tension course through
his muscles as I touch him in an attempt to draw his attention to me. 'You okay?' I sign and for once
I'm not trembling, my words are sure.
He swallows. I can see the movement of his oesophagus, the shift of his Adams apple and the
pursing of his lips. His face is haggard and drawn, tension upon his features, pain within his gaze
before abruptly, without a single word, pushing himself off the wall. He grabs my hand, and not
even giving me a chance to react, let alone protest, he drags me up the stairs and into his bedroom.
Click.
Another click, another door, but this time, it's to keep something in and not out. I'm in his arms,
pressed up against his chest and his breath is ragged in my ear. In, out, in, out, shift, in and out once
more. I'm held in silence and time seems to once more lose all meaning to me. "I hate him." Beau
whispers, the words ragged and torn. "I hate Mattie's brother so much for hurting her."
Silence.
What can I say? My voice no longer obeys the commands of my mind and my hands are pressed
against his chest. I can feel his heart beating. Silence. It echoes between us, echoes through me and
his whispered words swirl around in my mind. It doesn't make sense. There has to be more to this
story because his actions make no sense to me. I so badly want to know and I have no idea how to
ask. "B…B… Beeeauuuu." It's hard. The single word takes so much effort to utter. My voice shakes
and the word comes out as but a mere hoarse whisper, a breath, but it's enough to gain his attention.
Beau withdraws, shock written all over him and my hands are free once more. 'Can I ask you
something?' I sign tension coursing through me. What if he says no? What if he refuses to answer?
What if I hurt him more? I don't want to hurt him but I want to know.
He sighs, the sound deep and dejected and for a moment, I'm convinced he's going to refuse me.
Instead, he shifts. Sinking down onto his bed, he pulls me down along with him, my fingers
intertwined with mine. "Okay." He utters only a single word but it's sure. His entire demeanour has
changed. Beau is watching he's calm. How does he do that? How can he look so calm when but a
moment ago it seemed he would fall completely apart?
'Who was that?' Beau pales. His skin goes as white as the sheets we are seated upon and he shakes
his head, his gaze filled with pain. Beau's not going to tell me who the stranger at the door was, or
why Kia pulled a gun on him but something deep inside me tells me I already know, so I let it slide,
moving on. There's so much that I wish to know. 'How long did you and Matthew go out?' I want to
know, yet at the same time, I don't, but it's already too late to snatch the question back.
"Six months." Beau's response is simple, soft and unhesitant and it hurts every bit as much as I
thought it would. He spent six months in an intimate relationship with Mattie, six months of his life,
six months of Mattie's life. Something simply doesn't add up here. Why would someone, anyone
give up six months of their lives for a joke? It simply doesn't add up!
'Six months?' I can't help but repeat, lost as I fight to make sense of my thoughts once more. 'How
old was he?' I need to know! Don't look at me like that. I need to know more about the person that
dated Beau for six months only to tell him it was a joke!
Beau drops his gaze, shifts and the air is once again filled with awkwardness. Something in his
demeanour tells me I'm not going to like the answer to his question but I'm not going to drop this
topic! Surprising even myself, I reach over and jerk his face up with my hands, force him to look at
me so that I may speak. 'Beau? How old?'
"Nineteen." He admits and his gaze drops once more.
Nineteen. Mattie was nineteen when Beau dated him. Older than Beau is now and that was three
years ago which means he was fifteen. Beau was only fifteen. What was he thinking dating
someone so much older! Okay, maybe four years in not all that much. So Mattie was nineteen. Not
the brightest match in the box, I'd say if he was still in school with Beau. 'How old was his brother?'
My hands fly through the air before I can even think to stop them and the question is free before I
can even consider restraining myself.
Beau looks utterly shell shocked and deathly pale, every bit as pale as he was when he opened the
door to the stranger. His eyes are wide and he's biting his lip and I swear… I swear he's not going to
tell me! "Twenty one." A twenty one year old bastard was involved with beating up an innocent
little girl! That's just sick! "Dimitri?" The concern in Beau's tears me back into the present and I
realise I'm desperately clutching his sheets in an attempt to keep my hands busy. I want to hurt him.
I want to hurt the sick bastard that did that to Beau and Layla, so badly, that it's not even funny. I
hope he's currently rotting in jail. Please, oh please let my suspicion about the stranger in the
doorway be wrong.
I need to breath, in, out, in, out, one, two, three, four… I let go of the heated fury, letting it fade
from the forefront of my mind to simmer deep within me. I concentrate on my next question
because I no longer want to contemplate the sick mind that hurt Layla so. 'Why…' My hands are
shaking and I pause to give myself time to gather some composure once more. 'Why are you living
out his life?' There, I finally gave voice to the question I most desperately want an answer to. Why
did Beau change? Kia said he painted, played guitar in his free time and now\ those hobbies are
demoted to but mere school subjects with football occupying his time. Why did Beau become a jock
when it was those bastards that did all this to him and Layla?
"Living out his life?" Beau repeats my question, a frown of confusion upon his brow.
He doesn't understand and suddenly I'm frustrated beyond belief. 'Why are you living out Matthew's
life?'
"I'm not living out Mattie's life!" Beau stands, raising his voice with each word. There is now
distance between us and the small space that he's just created seems insurmountable. Beau is angry
with me and I… I… I… "I'm not! Damn it, Dimitri! Why would I want to live Mattie's life?!"
I need so much courage to face him now. I want to cry. I want to run away and hide. I don't want to
face his anger, the fury that's now directed at me but damn it… I cannot let this slide! 'You play
football now!' I sign in response, my gestures filled with almost as much anger as his voice. That's
all that is keeping me in place right now, anger at his denial, his sheer unwillingness to see that
which lies plainly in sight before him. 'When you didn't play it before! You are captain of the
football team, for crying out loud and I've yet to even hear you play your guitar!' I'm shaking and
my words are jagged, but this time it's different. The trembling in my body is brought on by the
anger I'm clutching to and not pain, not fear or self disgust.
Everything is frozen around me once more and Beau, Beau is staring at me, sheer shock and
disbelief upon his face. What!? Has he never seen anger before? Why is he looking at me in
disbelief! Damn him, I tell you! I glare. I put every ounce of fury, every ounce of discontent into my
gaze and glare at him. Damn him for doing this to me! Damn him for hurting me, for lying to me
and for lying to himself!
Beau and I are locked in place, locked in a staring match, his gaze wide in disbelief and mine
narrowed in animosity. Neither of us instigated it yet both of us seem to be unable to relinquish it.
That is, until he breaks beneath the pressure of my glare.
Beau crumbles, seeming to get smaller before my very eyes as he drops his gaze and runs tense
hands over his face. "It's not that simple, Dimitri." He whispers, sinking down, until he is seated
upon the ground before me. What have I done? "I… I… I don't want them to hurt me, to hurt my
family again."
His eyes are filled with conflict. 'What does that have to do with you playing football.' I query, my
hands hesitating as I do so. Beau looks so broken and I don't want to break him anymore but it
simply makes no sense.
"If I'm one of them." Beau pauses, seeming to plead with me for understanding. "If I'm one of them
they won't have a reason to hurt me." And suddenly it all makes sense. I'm falling, slipping off the
bed and my body jerks as my knees make contact with the ground. I reach out and I grab hold of
him because it hurts so much to see him so broken Everything seems to make sense now. Beau is
afraid of going through that again so he plays football, hangs out with everyone, drifts from group
to group making sure everyone likes him while getting close to no one. By getting him involved in
my life, in my problems, I ruined it all for him.

Nature special
Dinner at Beau's was awkward and uncomfortable. There is so much that was left unsaid. I don't
know what to think or how to react to all of it. Beau and Layla have been through so much yet so
many questions still remain unasked. There's more to this. You do not date a person for six months
as a joke. You don't beat up a little girl for just an accident. What are they hiding? What does
Mattie's brother know that Beau does not? My thoughts are in sheer turmoil and I'm desperately
trying to make sense of it all.
A soft knock upon the door to my bedroom tears me out of my own melancholic introspection and I
glace up in time to see the handle turn. Beth steps into my room, closing my door softly behind her
and makes her way towards me. My bed sinks and shifts beneath her weight as she sits down beside
me and her warmth brushes over my cool skin, the scent of lilacs embracing me. "Dimitri. We need
to talk."
Talk? Okay. I'm now officially confused. I can feel the rate of my heartbeat pick up and my breath
shift as possibilities begin to course through my mind. What would Beth need to talk to me about? I
can feel panic begin to rise as images of my father course through my mind. Beth doesn't want me
anymore. She's going to tell me to leave. What am I going to do? Am I going to jail? Did Kia and
the FBI change their mind and decide I'm guilty after all? Did my father, escape? Did someone else
die? I need to breathe!
"Dimitri, it's okay." Beth's voice tears into my panic and pulls me away from my thoughts and I at
her, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. "It's nothing bad." She speaks softly and her
fingers drift over my cheeks. "You're not in trouble. I just feel there are some things you need to
know before you take things further."
Take things further? Some things I need to know? What is Beth talking about? She's not here to tell
me to get out of her life? The fear and panic fade to the back of my mind, replaced by uncertainty. I
can feel my brow furrow as once again finding myself in an unstable position trying to make sense
of what's happening around me. It doesn't rain but it pours and Murphy truly does pay special
attention to me.
"It's about… Well… you see… I know you're growing up and…" Beth looks incredibly
uncomfortable and she's making me uncomfortable too. "I know that you're already seventeen years
old and that this is probably going to seem stupid but I don't know if anyone spoke to you about this
before and think it's something you should know about before doing something you may regret
later." What? "I mean, the decision to engage in intercourse is one of the most important decisions
you'll have to make in your life. That is, if you haven't made it already."
Engage in intercourse?! Everything around me is in slow motion and her words echo through my
mind, on repeat. Did Beth just say engage in intercourse?! Does Beth mean? She can't mean…
No… I'm getting the birds and the bees talk from Beth?! Now of all times?!!! I am hot, burning
from the inside out and the sheer degree of embarrassment that I feel right now threatens to make
me spontaneously combust. Please let the floor open up beneath my feet right now and bury me
deep. This can't be happening. Not now, not with Beth. And to top things off she calls it engaging in
intercourse! Who still calls it that?!
"It's important to only do it with someone you love and… and only when you're sure." Beth is
blushing and I swear her skin is every bit as flaming red as mine so why is she still going through
with this? "Don't ever let anyone pressure you into having sex when you don't… um… feel
comfortable… Choosing to wait doesn't mean you don't love each other. And make sure you
practice… um… you know… um… safe sex." She chokes on the word. Why is she putting us both
through this? "Use a… a… condom…" I whimper, as much as I don't use my voice, I swear, I
actually give a whimper. This is painful, through and through. I can't believe Beth is trying to tell
me about sex. Oh please, Murphy, kill me now.
She falls into silence and a new kind of panic threatens me. What am I supposed to do? How am I
supposed to react? I mean… she… she…whimper. All I can do is give another pained whimper,
wanting nothing more than for this to end. Beth is moving, about to leave only she pauses, takes a
deep breath and… No… no more… I can't take anymore… please… "Dimitri, one more thing…
Please, please get both yourself and Beau tested. I'm not saying that… you know I… I…" It's every
bit as bad as I thought it would be. "You never know and… and… stay faithful, okay? Please, stay
faithful to each other." The last is said in a hoarse whisper and something in her voice tells me that
last piece of advice comes from experience.
Click.
My door closes softly and I'm once again alone with my thoughts and emotions in turmoil.
Ringing.
Something is ringing in my room. The sound rips right through me and suddenly the turmoil within
me is there for an entirely different reason. Why is my room ringing? This is not school. I don't have
a bell installed in my room, do I? Shit! I'm not going mad am I? Hearing ringing in my ear? I can't
be mad. Beth's talk was not that traumatic, was it?
Wait a moment. The ringing is coming from my bag! I leap into motion, open my bag and turn it
upside down, letting everything within slide out. I'm making a mess but I don't care. I need to the
source of the ringing! Don't look at me like that. I need to prove to myself that I'm not going mad.
Hey! It's a perfectly normal assumption to make in my circumstances and as much as I don't like the
idea, I have to admit I'll never be accused of being normal.
Relief.
Sheer all consuming relief courses through me. I'm not going mad. The ringing is just my cell
phone. I have to resist the urge to giggle hysterically in relief when I suddenly realise something.
My cell phone is ringing. It's never done that before. Who on earth would be calling me?! As far as I
know I never gave my number to anyone. Scratch that, I do not even know my own number so who
could possibly be calling me?!
Snatching up the phone, I turn it and stare at the display and gape. A name is flashing up at me from
the display. How did Beau's name manage to get into my contacts list?! And to top it off the phone
is ringing in my hand. What should I do?! I jump as the small device in my hand emits another
shrill ring and before I can think better of it press the green button and press the phone to my ear.
"Dimitri?" It's Beau's voice. "Took you long enough to answer. I was just about to hang up.
Anyway, listen, you'll never believe this. I just got the birds and the bees talk, from Kia." Beau
raises his voice in disbelief, the sheer intensity of his emotion in no way diminished by the
electronic signal through which it's currently being communicated. Wait. Did he just say? "I mean,
my brother decided to talk to me about sex! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?!" Yup,
he said it and boy do I have an idea. "I mean, he knows I'm not a virgin. He knows about Mattie,
and now he decides to talk to me about safe sex? Doesn't it even occur to him that it's already too
late?"
All of this is just too surreal. This is a plot. It has to be. I mean, this can't be a coincidence. It
must've been planned. Beth just gave me the talk and Kia just gave it to Beau even though Beau and
Mattie… Beau and Mattie… I don't even want to think about Beau and Mattie! "And get this. Not
only does he come to give me the talk. He comes armed with a box of condoms and lube. A box,
Dimitri, an entire box of a hundred! What does he think we are? Bunnies?!!!" I'm hot all over again,
my skin blood red. Damn Beau and this conversation. I've barely managed to recover from Beth and
now Beau is doing this to me too.
"And that's not all. He also gave me a book… a…a…" Beau is tumbling over his words and I just
know that this is going to get even more embarrassing. Why me? "how to book! For sex, Dimitri,
between um… between two guys!" And so, the embarrassment of this entire situation finally
manages to dawn on him. Give him a medal, first prize! What took him so long! How could Beau
do this me? How could Kia do this to Beau?
This is soooooooo embarrassing and he's still talking! Does Beau just not get it? Or is he immune to
the sheer embarrassment? "A book and… and a box filled with… filled with sex toys! Does he have
no idea how embarrassing it is for me to get sex toys from my brother, Dimitri?!" Oh I know very
well how embarrassing this is. I think the one missing the point entirely is Beau. Does Beau have
any idea how embarrassing it is for me to hear him telling me about the sex toys his brother gave to
use on me. I want to disappear and pretend that none of this ever happened. "Is this what I think it
is?!!!" He's pausing but not for nearly long enough. "I'm seriously worried about my brother,
Dimitri! I think he's into bondage! No! The images, I just pictured Kia… I just pictured my
brother… The images! I think I'm scarred for life!" So am I, believe you me, so am I. Beau just…
Beau just… oh hell…
"Anyway, I can't believe him! Now of all times. It's absolutely crazy." Beau is panting into the
phone, his rant finally over and I'm so very hot. Damn him for doing this to me. "Anyway…" He
pants, his voice much softer, now that he's done ranting. "I just wanted to tell you…" A pause… a
breath… a moment of anticipation as I wait for his words. "I love you, Dimitri."
Click.
Silence.
He's hung up.
End junior year.
Alex
Senior year.
I miss him. I really miss Beau. So much has happened in my life since I met him. So much has
changed. I've changed and time has truly lost all meaning to me. I'm a senior now. My junior year
passed me by and before I knew it, Beau was leaving for university. I couldn't make myself watch
him go, could not face his departure so, I didn't even go to say good bye. I miss him terribly.
He calls. Beau phones me every night to tell me about his day, tell me he's thinking of me and to tell
me he loves me and everyday he waits a moment in silence hoping that I have my voice back,
hoping I too will say something to him. I can't. I have made some progress with my voice, or at
least that's what my speech therapist tells me but for some reason, I can't bring myself to even
attempt to speak outside of her office. My words just keep coming out wrong and suffice it to say I
have no desire to humiliate myself with garbled speech and stuttering words that barely make any
sense to me even though I know what I'm trying to say. How are my words then supposed to make
sense to anyone else?
Life goes on and time just keeps passing me by. Alex and Laura are still at my side, still protecting
me from Kevin and anyone else that wishes to comment on my father and the fact that he's now in
court for murder. Yes, the trial has finally begun and I'll be called to testify soon. I don't want to go.
I haven't seen my father since the night he tried to kill me and I'd prefer it to stay that way. I don't
think I can face him or look into his eyes. I've betrayed him. I have betrayed my own flesh and
blood, my father… yet he is not my father anymore. I am no longer Dimitri Cyr.
I'm starting to seriously worry about Alex. Recently he's been missing a lot of school, disappearing
for weeks at a time. He still won't tell me what's wrong, probably because I'm too scared to ask. I'm
worried sick about him but somehow… as long as I don't know what's wrong, I can pretend that he's
okay. Don't look at me like that. It's just… I don't want to lose him. I don't want to hurt anymore and
I miss Beau!
Alex is having a good day today. He even followed me to work, violin case in hand and is now
playing for Josh, beaming. The smile suits him. He really should smile more. Josh is utterly
captivated, drawn into the magical flow created by Alex's fingertips and I can practically see the
gears in his head turning. If you recall, Josh is rather eccentric. He insists that every instrument
created is unique and requires a special touch. He refuses to sell an instrument if he feels that the
person requesting to purchase it will not do it justice. But even eccentric as he is, there are some
instruments, like the violin that I fell in love with when I first came here, that he point blank refuses
to sell at all. He deems these instruments special, destined for someone special and should he find
that someone, who is he to stand in the way of destiny? I think he's crazy, but a part of me
understands how he feels. When I look at that violin, I understand how he feels. That violin is
special.
Alex's song is melancholic, rather vibrant on the surface but filled with uncertainty, fear and grief
below. It remind me of Alex, reminds me of the happiness that seems to hide the darker shadows
cast by his illness and on some strange plane, it also reminds me of Beau and the guilt that he
himself hides from the world. I miss him.
I miss Beau.
Since Beau is no longer here, I'm now responsible for trying to keep track of where Josh keeps all
his CD's. I have new respect for Beau and his memory. I have no idea how he managed to keep
track of everything with the crazy way Josh orders things and my every attempt to order the discs in
a more logical manner is thwarted by Josh. He's rather insistent that they remain ordered by colour
as it inspires creativity and gives his shop a fresh quirk that keeps drawing customers back. I guess
it depends on who you're trying to attract. The teenage crowd seems to love it. I mean, they have an
excuse to waste away time looking for some random CD and in doing so prolong the inevitable.
Homework!
The music draws to a close as Alex finishes his impromptu performance and suddenly I miss it. I
miss the joy upon Alex's face as he loses himself in his music and the rather convenient mood that
he was setting for my inner brooding. Damn it! I miss Beau.
"That was simply amazing." Josh compliments, his eyes practically sparkling in glee. I can see
those inner gears in his head turning, turning, turning… Josh is eyeing Alex and plotting something
and I have a sneaking suspicion I know what it is… and in five… four… three… two… one…
Click. Josh clicks his fingers together and stands. "Wait here. I'll be right back." He exclaims,
gesturing wildly at Alex before turning. He heads exactly where I expect him to go, towards the
violin. Told you the violin was truly something special.
For a moment I can feel a thread of regret coursing through me. I really love that violin and wish it
could've been me playing it. The neighbourhood cats however, would probably disagree. I would
traumatize them by making them think one of their own is dying and being a nature lover and all
(yup... sarcasm here), I can't do that to them. Besides even I have to agree that, that specific violin
seems to have Alex's name written all over it.
Ring…
Yes, with Beau calling me every night I've become accustomed to my cell phone ringing and no
longer think myself mad or delusional so the sudden ringing doesn't surprise me. What does surprise
me though is that the ringing is not my cell phone, but Alex's. Now that I think about it, Alex
doesn't usually receive calls. I watch as he picks up the phone, looking as confused as I feel which
only seems to confirm my suspicion. "Hello?"
"Oh, mom." He falls silent and seems to stop breathing remaining silent throughout the whole
conversation, saying not a single word more before hanging up, deathly pale. He looks like
someone just died. I rush to his side and grab him as he begins to collapse in on himself and that's
when I realise he's shaking like a leaf.
I'm at a complete loss. I don't know what to do and can feel my heart clench. I need to speak. I need
to know what's wrong but all I manage is a silent gasp. My lips are moving but my voice refuses to
obey. Why now? Why can I not even make a sound when I need it the most? Something's very
wrong with Alex. I'm about to leap up in search of Josh when he grabs me, his fingers digging into
my skin with a strength I would've never imagined him to possess. "Don't, Dimitri." He gasps, his
voice wavering. "Don't call him. Please, don't call him. Not yet."
His words stop me in my tracks and I turn to him once more. He looks lost, scared and so very, very
small. On a sudden impulse I kneel down before him and look up into his dark eyes, seeking,
searching, silently hoping he will understand my concern. "That… That was my mother." His voice
cracks and I can practically see the tension in his body. "She… she says they… they… they
finally… I… I… they found… me a new heart."
Ever stood at the end of a tunnel with a speeding train heading straight at you? Barrelling at you
with a loud roar of impending doom only to sweep past, barely missing you as it does so? Yet for
some strange reason you're still standing there, waiting for impact, unable to believe what you have
just experienced? Well, that's how I feel right now. He cannot have… Alex didn't… he… he didn't
just say what I think he said, did he? He couldn't have. I… I cannot breathe… my… my chest is
closing in on me and I… I think I'm going to cry… Alex… There's something wrong with his heart
and he… he could die!
"I… I… I'm scared, Dimitri. I'm so scared." Alex's torn whisper tears me away from my own panic
and suddenly all I can think about is making him feel better. I need to reassure him so I can reassure
myself. Alex has a heart problem and needs a heart transplant! But they found a new heart for
him… This should be good news, right? It should be good news but isn't a heart transplant
dangerous?! "I… I have to go to the hospital… but… I'm scared. I'm so scared."
He's in my arms and for the life of me, I have no idea how he got there but I don't care. I hold him
every bit as tightly as Beau held me when I needed him the most, and rock him back and forth,
offering him the only thing I have to give. Silent comfort. It will be okay, right? Hell, who am I
kidding? I'm terrified. It's not me that needs the surgery and terrified… I'm going to lose Alex. I… I
just found a friend and now I'm going to lose him! I hate you! Damn you Murphy! Damn you to
hell and beyond for doing this to me!!!
I'm crying, sobbing, silent tears pouring down my face, dropping onto the fabric of Alex's shirt.
Damn it! I'm supposed to be comforting him, reassuring him and instead I'm crying. What's wrong
with me? I'm crying and now he's crying too, his hands clutching my shirt, his face buried in my
shoulder and that's how Josh finds us when he returns, violin, in hand.

Temptation
I'm worried sick, filled with nervous energy that I have no idea what to do with. It's bubbling up
from deep within me, seeking escape. My right knee oscillates shaking my body as it does so, the
movement as rapid as it is constant. The motion is entirely within my control, entirely intentional
yet at the same time not. I am capable of controlling this nervous movement physically, capable of
forcing my body into submission yet at the same time, incapable of doing anything about it. There's
so much energy within me. It's twisting me up inside and this nervous movement is the only thread
of sanity I have left right now.
Alex is in surgery. Has been for a long time now and I'm told it will still be hours yet. He's getting a
new heart and that scares me. I'm not stupid, not naive, I know what this means. This means Alex is
dying. Not somewhere in the distant unknown future. No, without this surgery the doctors expect
him to die within the next six to twelve months. Alex was as good as dead and he's in surgery. It's
dangerous and he could die any moment now. Alex could die beneath those doctors' hands and it
will be over. Worse yet, according to the pamphlet I managed to get hold of, he could still die within
the next year. The average statistics show that only about eighty six percent of male patients survive
the first year. Now I know what you're thinking. Eighty six, good odds, huh? But what if he falls
into the remaining fourteen percent? Someone has to! I think I'm going to be sick!
Dizzy, nauseous, I feel so sick! I can't breathe and this bloody lump in my throat is threatening to
choke me. I want to cry but I can't. Alex is getting a new heart. That's supposed to be good news but
it's not. Alex needs a new heart and no matter how you look at it he's going to die! I double over and
force myself to breath. My hands are sweaty. I'm hot and I feel so very ill. The pamphlet, damn, my
curiosity and the bloody pamphlet. It… It says the average life expectancy after a heart transplant is
only eleven years. Assuming he survives the first year, which is listed as the most critical, his
average life expectancy will be eleven years which will make him twenty nine. Only twenty nine!
Damn, I really am going to be sick.
I can feel the pamphlet crumple, fold and crease in my sweaty grasp and suddenly I hate it with a
passion. I hate the bloody piece of paper in my hand, the damned words written upon it and my
cursed curiosity. I hate all of it! It's not fair that someone like Alex should be so sick! Only now do I
understand his anger at my suicide attempt. I… I have something he will never have and I don't
want it. I want to die yet for some reason can't help but live and he… he wants to live and can't help
but die. Life is so unfair. Alex doesn't deserve this. I hate Murphy and all he represents! Why is he
doing this to me?
Presence, premonition, dark chill upon my skin. Someone is staring at me. I jerk up, my nausea
forgotten. Hazel eyes framed by rough cut blond strands. The man before me looks rugged and
confident. He's tall, overwhelmingly so and I can practically trace the bulge of muscle through the
tight clothes he wears. He's all man and all muscle, and I swear there's not an ounce of fat upon him.
He's staring at me, his hazel eyes boring into me and the sheer intensity of his gaze scares me. Why
is he staring at me? I can feel my brow furrow as I frown in confusion, trying to place him. I know
him. His very presence is familiar and I just know I've seen him somewhere before.
The stranger at Beau's door! The stranger Kia pointed a gun at! How on earth could I've forgotten
him? The man I'm sure Beau knows. I fight back the gasp of shock that threatens to overwhelm me
and nearly choke on the suppressed sound. What is he doing here? What does he want? Why is he
looking at me? Wait. He's approaching me. I need to leave. I don't think this is a good idea. Kia
pointed a gun at him, for crying out loud. He must've had a good reason but… but… "Hello. I'm
Zachariah." Before I even have time to react he's before me, introducing himself and casually sitting
down beside me. Shit. "I saw you at Beau's place some months back. Mind if I sit down?"
Okay, it's official. It must be genetic. He's definitely not the brightest match in the box. Mind if I sit
down? What kind of stupid question is that? And asking it after he's already sat down? I mean,
come on. Of course I mind! I want nothing to do with him! I don't want to speak to him when
there's obviously something going on between Beau, Kia and him, something Beau refuses to talk
about, something I desperately long to know more about. Hell, who am I kidding? I may as well
admit it. I do want to talk to him. Maybe he will tell me what is going on.
"Beau dated my brother a couple of years ago. Did you know that?" I feel cold. I was right. The
stranger is Mattie's brother. He's speaking casually, his tone is calm but for some reason it feels
wrong. This is the man that hurt Layla. I really shouldn't be speaking to him. "Did he tell you about
Matthew? They were very close, you know, Matthew and Beau. It was really hard on Evan." Wait!
Evan? Who is Evan? I don't know anything about Evan! "Evan was truly heartbroken. All because
of Beau." Heartbroken? All because of Beau? Wait a minute! Can we go back a few steps here?
Who is Evan and what does he have to do with Beau?! Is it just me or are things spiralling out of
control once more? Why is it when I finally start figuring something out, Murphy throws something
else into the mix? "Beau wrecked Matthew's relationship with Evan, did you know that? Then
Matthew died, you know. Evan was devastated. "
His words are spinning around and around in my head, their meaning completely evading me. I'm
so very confused right now. Who is Evan? What does Beau have to do with him? How did Beau
ruin Matthew's relationship with Evan? Who is this new player in this crazy game? Can anyone
explain this to me? Please? Before I lose what little sanity I seem to still have a grasp on.
I knew there was more to this story but Matthew's brother is not helping, "Do you want to know
more about Evan? About Matthew?" His voice is so casual, so very wrong and he's invading my
space. How did he know what I was thinking? I can feel his warm breath upon my skin, each breath
giving me Goosebumps. It feels like insects crawling all over me and I have to bite back the
shudder of disgust that courses through me. Something is very wrong here. I cannot pinpoint it but
something is simply not right with this whole situation. What on earth is he doing here?
"I can tell you all about the relationship between Beau and Matthew, about Evan, about how they
betrayed him and what really happened between them." He is whispering and his voice sends
shivers down my spine. I fear him yet at the same time, I can't push him away. I am drawn to him. I
want to know what he knows. I want the questions that still remain in my mind, the questions about
Mattie, about the six months and relationship between them, answered. I want all my questions
answered and Mattie is a taboo subject around Beau. He's told me as much as he's willing to and
refuses to tell me anymore. I'm afraid to ask him to tell me more, afraid of the guilt, the self-hatred
and the bitterness I can see in his heart but I want to know. Damn temptation and my human nature!
I'm looking the forbidden fruit before me and I fully intend to reach for it.
I meet his gaze, searching for something, anything and find nothing. His gaze is hard, cold and
unreadable and it disturbs me. Something is wrong, so very wrong here yet… He smiles. His lips
quirk up in humour and his eyes remain the same, cold and unreadable as ever. "I'm sorry. This is
probably the wrong time for this." He's standing. He intends to leave. Wait. I… I want to know!
Don't leave, please… wait! I open my lips to speak, to stall him, to keep him here a moment longer,
to perhaps reach for an answer yet the only sound I hear is the sound of his voice, confusing me,
manipulating me, a subtle manipulation I'm hopeless against because, damn it, I want to know! "I
can see you have something else on your mind at the moment. Think about it. Think about my offer.
I'll tell you everything. I'll tell you the truth about Beau and Matthew. All I ask is for you to keep an
open mind. I don't want him hurting another."
Open mind? Offer? Hurting another? I am lost once again upon a sea of confusion and before I have
a chance to react, he leaves.

The value of life

Various shades of grey drift and shift before my gaze. The darker shadows fade to be replaced by
lighter shades, drifting, flowing, changing, growing ever lighter and fading into bright white. I wake
with a start and battle with the confusion in my mind. Last thing I remember is sitting in the
hospital, waiting for Alex to come out of surgery. I must have fallen asleep. I'm still at the hospital,
lying on my side and there's warmth beneath my cheek.
Wait a minute. Warmth beneath my cheek? I sit up, startled, apprehension flowing through me. I
must've fallen asleep on some stranger! Panic courses through me and my eyes dart to the side,
desperately seeking out the person I lay upon as I slept, praying for this to be a dream. Please, oh
please, let me not humiliate myself in this manner. Please let all of this be some nightmare that I can
simply wake from. Oh, please…
Pale blue gaze. Unimaginable relief courses through me as I meet his pale blue gaze. It's Josh. I fell
asleep on Josh's lap. It's alright, it is only Josh. He smiles at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "He's
alright." Josh's soft words startle me, almost as much as the realisation that I'd fallen asleep on top
of someone and my heart has to once again recover from the fluctuations in beat and emotion I am
subjecting it too. "Alex is out of surgery. He survived. We can't visit him yet, we're not family, but
he's alive. They say it went as well as can be expected. He'll have to stay here for another six weeks
and we can visit him when he comes out of ICU, but not before." Josh looks torn and haggard,
almost as if he's aged ten years since driving Alex to the hospital. "We need to go home. He'll be
there at least a couple of days." Josh finishes in a whisper and the words sound so final.
Hold on! We can't visit Alex for another couple of days? Damn hospital policy. Damn them for
keeping me away from Alex. I want to see him, touch him, hear the beep of the heart monitor as it
echoes the beat of the heart within him. Yet, I can't? Due to the fact that I am not family, I can't see
him and it hurts! I want to scream and throw a tantrum because it isn't fair. I have a right to know!
He is my friend! I want to see him!
Wait a moment. Friend? Did I just? Oh hell. I may as well stop lying to myself. Alex is my friend,
Alex, Josh, Layla and even Laura are my friends. Beth is my mother and Beau… he is… well…
Beau… is something else, I guess. There, I said it. Alex is my friend and he means something to
me! I care and I want to see him, touch him and feel the heat of life in his body! Damn the hospital
and their bloody policies!
A soft touch upon my arm tears me from my conflicted thoughts and I look up to see Beth standing
before me. Before I can even think twice about it, I'm moving. I throw myself into her arms and
bury my face in her shoulder and take a moment to savour the heat of her skin and the now familiar
scent of lilacs. She's alive. Beth is alive and well… unlike Alex, I can see her, touch her and feel her
warmth. She's standing here with me and I want to cry. I want her to hold me, cradle me and keep
me sane with her touch as I weep, lose control and lose myself to the grief that threatens to
overwhelm me but most of all… I want her to tell me it is going to be okay. Even if it's a lie, I want
her to tell me Alex is going to be okay.
"Let's go home, sweetheart." Her soft voice washes over me, embraces me and tugs at my heart, at
the tears in my eyes, and before I know it, I'm crying. I should be happy. He survived the surgery
yet so much uncertainty remains. I think I was happier not knowing what's wrong with him and
pretending that he's okay. Now that I know the reality, I can no longer pretend, can no longer ignore
the fact that I'm attached to him and the very idea of losing him is tearing me apart.
Her touch is gentle and the silent embrace reminds me of the way Beau holds me. I miss him so
much and I long for his touch, for the fire in my veins, the strength of his arms and the slick warm
heat of his tongue caressing mine. I miss Beau and the realisation only serves to make me cry even
harder. Damn Beau for doing this to me, for leaving me defenceless and then leaving me alone to
deal with the trial, Alex's illness and Zachariah!
"Shhh. It's okay, Dimitri. Everything will be okay." Oh how I cling to her soft nonsensical words of
comfort. "He'll be okay. We'll visit as soon as possible, I promise. You'll see him soon. It'll be okay."
She is cradling me, whispering to me, telling me sweet little lies as her hand drifts slowly over my
back, a gentle rhythm, repetitive, slow, soothing, mesmerising, calming me gently with the
consistency of the movement. I let go of my tears and allow my grief and pain to fade to a dull ever
present ache deep in my chest. I withdraw from her arms and meet her gaze. I am ready. Let's go
home. I will wait, hope and pray and in the end I will live. If not for myself, then for him, because
I… I can't face the thought of casually throwing away something Alex wants so badly. I cannot face
the thought of disappointing him again so, no matter what happens, I will not kill myself. I will
continue to live.
***
I can go visit Alex today! He's out of ICU! I can finally go visit! Emotion bubbles up within me, a
mixture of relief, happiness and excitement, all of which threaten to overflow, to escape my control.
Alex is doing better! Alex is finally out of ICU and they are finally letting us go visit him! I… I
think this is what happiness feels like. It must be happiness, this foreign emotion, this mixture of
excitement, eagerness and sheer relief. I know it's not over yet, I know that he will never be truly ok
but he's finally out of ICU!
I rush to my room, drop my school bag onto my bed and grab Lilac, cuddling her close as I give in
to impulse, give in the sheer force of the emotion bubbling within me. I spin around, round and
round and round, wanting to cry, to laugh, to grin like an idiot! What's happening to me?! I think I
am actually happy! I run back into the living room, Lilac still cradled against my chest, still licking
me, still welcoming me home only I'm more than ready to leave again. I want to see Alex. I want to
make sure he is alright. I drop a kiss onto Lilac's forehead, cuddle her a little more and then put her
down.
I can't take you! Don't look at me like that. They don't allow little doggies in hospital rooms. No.
Not the puppy dog eyes. Come on, not the puppy dog eyes. Ok, one more, one more kiss and then I
really have to go. I have to check on Alex. I have to make sure he's ok. I bend down, meet Lilac's
gaze and grin at her. Wait, she's giving me a strange look and now she's cocking her head to the
side. She looks puzzled. Yes, it's me. I'm happy and can't stop grinning like an idiot. Another kiss,
just a small kiss. I'm going Lilac but I'll be back and then we can cuddle on my bed while I do
homework. Yes, I actually do homework now and I will have you know I managed to pull up my
grade point average rather nicely, thank you very much. It helps having a home, having a place free
of nightmare, to go to.
Beth! Beth is finally ready! We can go! I leap up and run to the car and am seated before she even
manages to lock the front door. What? I need to see Alex. It's been weeks! I miss him and his silent
presence at lunch, I miss his encouragement during music class, yes I'm still playing the panpipes,
and I miss his violin. Let's face it. I miss Alex almost as much as I miss Beau, almost, but not quite.
For some reason, Beau… well he… he is different and I think I will always miss him more than
anyone else because when he is gone I ache and it feels like part of me is missing.
***
No running in the hospital? Yeah right. Are they nuts! It's their fault I'm in withdrawal to begin
with! It's their fault I'm dying to see him. Believe you me two weeks of school spent in only Laura's
company are enough to drive anyone nuts. I swear that girl has no shame whatsoever. She too is
worried about Alex. Only problem is, when something bothers Laura, well distraction is key and
what better way to distract oneself than with… Please, don't make me say it! Needless to say, I'm
running in the hospital corridors.
I turn a corner and another, running as fast as I can. Destination finally within my grasp I skid to a
halt and pause before a white door. Laura and Beth are still far behind me. Silence. Heavy
breathing, panting, rhythm, exhaustion and suddenly I realise I'm filled with apprehension. What
if… what if he's not ok… What if… what if… Oh hell. I think I'm going to be sick.
I reach for the door and pause. Can I really open it? Is this really ok? I can't just stand here like an
idiot! I gather my courage and I turn the handle, opening the door before I can change my mind and
then I see Alex, lying on a bed, tubes attached to his body, skin pale and I swear… his lips… his lips
are blue but he's smiling. Alex is beaming and the smile reaches his eyes. Josh is beside him and in
his hands is a clear plastic violin. I told you.
The door clicks softly as I enter, closing it behind me. The soft sound draws his attention to me and
I swear the happiness in Alex's gaze seems to sparkle all the more. He's alive. He looks ill, pale and
weak but he's alive and he's happy and he'd better get out of here soon because that violin needs to
be broken in.
My cheeks are wet and I realise I'm crying once more. Regular waterworks here but hell if I care!
Alex is alive. I rush over to his side and damn it, I'm smiling. The expression feels awkward upon
my face but I can't help it. I cannot help the relief within me and Alex… he's smiling back at me.
Bang!
Eyes wide, stupid smile still upon my face, I jump at the sound only to realise Laura is marching
into the room with flowers and gifts for Alex, followed closely by Beth. Go figure, she's never one
for subtlety. Oh no… wait… she brought gifts. No… Alex is opening the gifts from Laura. He
should know better! Wait… she got him… She really does have a one track mind! I think I'm going
to give Alex and maybe Josh a little privacy right now… cause… um… you know… I'm every bit
as bright red as they are.

Release
My phone is ringing. The ring tone fills my room and I know that Beau is calling me. After all, he's
the only person that ever calls me. He's the only one I know who doesn't seem to mind having a one
sided conversation over a phone. I snatch up the handset and press the green button, pressing the
phone to my ear. Don't look at me like that. I can't simply let it ring. The ringing gets annoying.
"Dimitri?" He always starts the conversation with my name, said in a lilting questioning voice,
almost as if he expects me to answer. "Are you alright? I heard about Alex from my mother. I'm so
sorry I couldn't be there for you or for him, but I hear he's doing better now. So it was his heart?
Damn, I had no idea. He could've told us. I understand why he didn't but… I'm glad he made it.
He'll be fine you know. Alex is a fighter. Remember how he yelled at you when you tried to commit
suicide? Anyone with that much fire is bound to outlive all expectations." I can hear concern in his
voice, strangely touched by a smile when he speaks about Alex's outburst. I miss him so much. I
wish he was here to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me.
"Things are crazy this side. I can't believe I thought high school was a lot of work. They're crazy
here and the nuts in my dorm room always want to party. They're mad! What idiot has time to party
with so many tests? The amount of work they give us is ridiculous! Oh, and the guys thought it
would be funny to raid the girls' dorm. They shoved all the girls into showers and one of them broke
an ankle. Now the dorm is in trouble. Go figure. Insane I tell you. Actually, it's not too bad. It keeps
me distracted. I wish you were here with me, though. I miss you." He pauses, and silence hangs in
the air between us. I know what he's going to say next and I hold my breath as I wait for him to say
it. "I love you." Yup, he said it and now I can breathe again.
"I want to see you. It's a nice evening outside, don't you think? A bit cold, but clear." I gaze out the
window and realise that he's right, the sky is clear and the stars are bright. I suppose it should be
nostalgic, the realisation that we're looking at the same sky. Instead, it only serves to make me miss
him all the more. I'm scared. I have to appear in court tomorrow, have to face my father, have to
testify against him and have to do it alone. Beau is far away. All I have is the sound of his voice and
a shared night sky. Nostalgic my ass. I want to cry.
"It's a perfect evening to cuddle up in bed, you, me and lilac. Let's not forget the hot chocolate. I
want to see your face, and maybe hear you play the panpipes. I know you're still playing them. Oh,
did I tell you? I started playing guitar in my free time again. I don't take music lessons here and I
missed it. I wrote you a song, want to hear?" I can hear it, soft strumming upon guitar strings,
flowing gently through the air. As usual, he's not waited for me to reply. He's playing the guitar for
me but for some reason it sounds strange, almost as if it has an echo…
Wait a minute, an echo? I can hear the music flow around me, coming from the phone, coming
from… I barely notice dropping my phone as I rush towards my bedroom door. I can still hear the
music and damned if I am wrong. I tear the door open, only one thought in mind only to stop dead
as I meet bright green eyes filled with mirth.
Beau is sitting on the floor just outside my bedroom door. He has a guitar in his lap and his cell
phone is resting on his knee as he plays. Only, the notes die down. Beau is watching me, a cheeky
smile lingering on his lips and I can see the gears in his mind turning as he thinks. The music dies
completely and he reaches for his cell phone. He raises it and… "You didn't let me finish." He
whispers and then he hangs up.
I don't know what to think, what to feel, what to do. I can feel the confusion, the nervous energy rise
up within me desperately seeking relief. I want to throw myself into his arms, I want to feel him, I
want him to hold me, I want…
Warmth flows through my blood. Beau is holding me and now my world consists of only him and I.
I clench my hands and I can feel the texture of his clothes beneath my fingertips. I'm holding him,
clutching his clothes and I swear I'm never letting go. I take a deep breath and savour his unique
scent. He's always so warm. Oh how I missed this.
"You okay, Dimitri?" I glance up. "I'm sorry." His hand trails over my cheek and I can't help but
lean into his touch. It's so gentle and I'm coming undone. "About everything. I'm here for you." His
gaze is deep green, filled with regret, sorrow and concern and he looks like he's going to cry.
I jerk and hastily raise my hands. I don't want him to cry. None of it is his fault. Not my sins, not my
father's sins and not the trial tomorrow. 'It's not your fault, it's…'
He grabs my hands in mid-motion, stilling my hastily signed words and interrupting my protest.
"No, Dimitri." He's shaking his head. "It's not your fault. Remember that. None of this is your fault.
I know this is sudden and probably a bit much for you. I know you keep shutting yourself away
from the world so that you can protect yourself from more pain but I won't hurt you. Please believe
me. I won't hurt you."
The idiot. He's begging me to understand yet it's him that doesn't understand. What is there to
protect myself from? It's already far too late to protect myself. I want to protect him! "I love you,
Dimitri. No matter what, I love you and I'll wait. However long it takes I'm willing to wait because
you're worth it. I'm sorry." His hands are running through my hair, brushing stray strands out of my
face, soothing me. Beau is breaking me all over again and I swear I'm giving in to the sound of his
voice, the taste of his mouth and the touch of his skin upon mine.
"You drive me crazy, Dimitri. "He whispers and I can feel his warm breath drifting over my skin.
"Not in a bad way, in a good way. I'm crazy for you and sometimes I… I forget to think. I want you.
You give me a reason to be myself again. I love you, Dimitri."
Once again we're wrapped in silence. My emotions are in turmoil, bubbling, boiling and waging
war within me. I'm lost, adrift upon a sea of contradiction and I hurt, not for me, for him. Beau is
wasting his time, waiting for me. Yet, for some reason, a strange dark reason I don't wish to explore,
I am happy.
I'm in his arms and have no recollection of how I got here though I must've done something because
my arms are wrapped around his neck and he looks surprised. Oh please, let me stay like this a
moment longer, his skin warm against mine, his scent invading my senses and his gentle touch
calming the raging river within me. Please can I stay here a moment, an eternity longer.

Trial and tribulation

I didn't sleep very well. Every time I closed my eyes I would see his face before mine, his cold eyes
looking at me, filled with accusation and hate and when I opened them I'd see Beau, asleep upon the
floor and remember what he said to me. Everything is overwhelming me, rushing in upon my senses
and I'm losing control. Beau wants more than friendship from me and I'm about to betray my father.
I can smell my own fear and it's a thick cloying scent that threatens to choke me. I'm soaked in my
own sweat yet I am shivering. I can hear voices speaking words that should make sense to me, yet
do not. The sound is distorted by my own mind and my own inability to deal with the truth before
me. I'm in court and the trial is in session. Soon I will be called upon to betray my own flesh and
blood. I think I'm going to be sick.
"The state calls upon, Dimitri Sareena." What?! No! Already?! I can't breathe. My chest is pressing
in on me, suffocating me, blocking off my air and I can't breathe! I can't do this! I can't do this! I'm
not ready! "Shhh, Dimitri. It will be okay. Just do your best." A soft touch upon my skin sends fire
through my blood and I know it's Beau.
I rise and the world spins around me. It spirals out of control and I have to fight to stay upright. I
will not pass out! I can't pass out, not until this is over. My senses are on overload and it hurts. The
light is too bright, distorting everything I see into a sea of colour and the roaring in my head muffles
any words that may be said. Strange, isn't it? How some things seem to stand out clear as day and
just merge into a landscape of sound, colour and pain. I can see his face, standing out against the sea
of colour. My father is looking at me and my world narrows, rushes in on me until it consists only
of him and me.
"Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God." The rest of the world
rushes back in and the moment is lost. Reality slips back into place and I can hear again. Don't get
me wrong, I can still see him, sitting before me, but he\, is no longer the centre of my world, no
longer all I know. 'I do." I sign; my translator seated beside me and so begins the destruction of my
world.
***
Sharp tendrils of pain tear into me; clutch at my heart and squeeze it, killing me. Waves of intense
pain ripple through me, over and over again and I can't take anymore. Please, make it stop, please…
oh please… Every time I think I've survived, every time I think it may finally be over the intense
pain begins anew taking over all of me. It hurts so much. Please, make it stop. It hurts so much and
I… I can't breathe!
They said I'm making it up. They called me a liar, claiming I'm making it up because I hate my
father. They say I'm psychologically imbalanced, crazy and delusional but I'm not! Please believe
me! I'm not mad. I know what I saw! I'm not making it up! He killed them. Oh hell, my father killed
them and I helped. I'm dying. It hurts and they… they don't believe me. They're going to let him go.
All of this was for nothing. They will let him go and he… he will kill again. They will let him go
and have me institutionalized! Please believe me. I am not mad. Please… oh please don't send me
back there. Not again. I'm not crazy.
My skin is wet and I realise I'm crying, silent tears of pain, terror and horror wracking my body as
they seek escape. I'm betrayed by my body, my mind and those that claimed they would make it all
right. I was so naïve. How could I for a moment believe that anything could be alright? I can't
escape my past, my sins and him. Why did I for a moment think I could? It hurts. Please make it
stop hurting.
The car I'm in is stopping. Beau has stopped it and torn the door open, grabbing me from the seat
and I cling to him. It hurts. I can't breathe. Why did they say I am mad? I tried so hard. I told them
what he had done and they say I am making it up, imagining things. They say it's all the imaginings
of a delusional mind, but it's not. I saw him do it! It was not someone else. I'm not stupid! I know
what I saw! My father killed them! Not someone else! I'm not pretending it was him to deal with the
insanity witnessing murders has apparently shoved upon me! I'm not insane!
I tried so hard and they still managed to turn all my words around and now… They twisted
everything I tried to say and now no one will believe me! It hurts. I managed to walk out of the
court room, managed to push the pain away until they could no longer see me and then it ripped into
me and began to tear me apart. How can they do this to me?! It hurts so much. Beau caught me as I
folded in on myself and lifted me running to the car. Why did he run? Why is he running now?
Where is he taking me? Please make it stop hurting. It wasn't my fault! I didn't want them to die!
Please believe me. It's not my fault...
There's so much white and my world is spinning around me. Beau's scent is overpowered by the
sharp scent of ammonia. Don't tell me he… It hurts. Even the light hurts, cutting into my gaze and
fading slowly to black as I continue to fight for breath. They didn't believe me. They… they… "I'm
sorry, Dimitri." Beau's soft whisper cuts into my panic and suddenly I can feel a sharp needle in my
arm, piercing me, the sensation lost in the sea of emotional agony that has my body in its grip. Why
is he sorry? I'm the one at fault here, at fault for being weak, for keeping silent all these years, for
letting them die, for losing control over my own body and for… for… for making them think I'm
mad and my father is innocent.
Now I'm light headed, floating on a cloud as the pain finally begins to release me from its clutches.
Everything is fading and I'm finally free, embraced by darkness.
#
I'm embraced by gentle softness as my mind drifts away from darkness that surrounds me, back to
the world around me. I still remember what happened; still remember the pain, the accusations and
the intensity of the panic attack. I remember all of it and know where I'll find myself when I open
my eyes but for some strange reason, it's okay. I will be alright because Beau cares for me. He
believes in me. He knows I am not mad and he loves me. Yes, Beau loves me like that.
I open my gaze to the expected glare of white and I know I'm right. I am at the hospital, only there
are no needles in my arm, no straps upon my wrists and no monitors around me. Instead, I'm
surrounded by softness. I glance down and realise I'm covered by warm, deep blue, silky soft
blankets that certainly do not belong to the hospital. If not for the glaring white and the rather
obvious hospital equipment that surrounds me I'd swear I'm at home, in my own bed. Home, yes, I
have a place I can actually call that now, with Beth and Lilac.
Glancing around the room I realise I'm alone. It's a strange feeling but I guess it's to be expected,
seeing as I've probably been sedated and am meant to be sleeping, but I don't want to sleep
anymore. Beau brought me to the hospital, which, means my panic attack must have been bad.
Okay, it was bad but now it feels so distant, like a dream.
Wait. I'm in hospital! I can go visit Alex and see if he is ok! I promised to see him once I was done
testifying! Which must've been hours ago! He must be wondering where I am! Hastily I slip out of
bed and…the cool tiles beneath my feet send a shiver of shock through me. Wait. These are not my
pyjamas!
I'm wearing pyjamas, not a hospital gown. The warm soft material caresses my skin but I've never
seen them before in my life. Long sleeves, dark blue, with a sleepy looking black cat curled up on
the front! What's more, the pants are literally covered in even more sleepy black cats! They're not
mine. They don't even fit me! The sleeves hang over my hands and the pants drag upon the floor!
Whose are they? And better question yet, why am I wearing them?!
To hell with it. I don't have time to worry about this right now! I need to go see Alex before he
worries himself sick about me. It takes me a moment to orientate myself, but as soon as I figure out
where I am, I head off to find Alex. The nurses and doctors ignore me as I slip through the corridors
and I realise that I'm not the only patient wandering around…
Finally finding Alex's room I slip in and am surprised to see Beau and Beth sitting beside him. They
seem every bit as surprised to see me. "Dimitri!" Beau's eyebrows rise in surprise and he makes his
way over towards me, pulling me into a warm embrace. "What are you doing up? The doctors said
you would still be asleep for a few more hours." I glance up at him and can see concern in his gaze
and for a moment, I feel regret course through me. I put that emotion there. It is my fault but… Oh
hell, I return the embrace and bury my face into his shoulder, taking a deep breath to savour his
scent and this strange feeling of content for a moment longer. "I'm glad you're alright, you know."
He whispers his soft words washing over me. "And just so you know, you look adorable in those
pyjamas." Beau's voice is now laced with mischief? What does he know that I don't?! Are they his
pyjamas?! Somehow I don't picture them as something he would wear but… "The saleswoman was
right, after all, they scream: I'm cute and sexy! They were a good buy. They really suit you. I hope
you like them." Wait… What?!

The road to a broken heart

I'm glad to be home with Lilac in my arms. She's always happy to see me. She ignores the existence
of anyone else when I'm around and it makes me happy. I know it shouldn't but it's nice to be the
centre of someone's world. I love her. I love the way she feels in my arms, the way she always looks
for me and the way she curls up beside me when I sleep. She's a regular fluff ball and looks bigger
than she really is. You should see her when she's in the bath. She shrinks, at least by half and looks
utterly miserable.
"Off to bed with you." The scent of lilacs surrounds me and Beth ruffles my hair. "You should get
some rest. You had us all worried for a moment there. I'll bring up some hot chocolate, so make sure
you two keep things tame." What?!! Did Beth just say we should keep things tame? Beau and I?
She thinks… My skin is flaming red. What is it with Murphy and embarrassing the hell out of me? I
bury my face in Lilac's fur and hurry up to my bedroom, trying to avoid Beau's gaze after what Beth
just implied.
My bedroom door clicks softly as it closes behind us and the moment of reckoning has finally
come. I have to face him. I glance up to find him watching me. "You did nothing wrong." His words
startle me. I didn't expect him to break the silence between us and have no idea what he's talking
about. I did nothing wrong? I frown at him in confusion and he reaches out to poke me between the
brows. "Don't give me that look. What happened in court, you did nothing wrong."
Oh. I can feel my chest begin to squeeze me once more as the meaning of his words registers upon
my mind. Beau is talking about the trial. What the hell does he mean, I did nothing wrong?! I
messed up the entire testimony. 'They said I am mentally unstable. They twisted everything I said. I
know what I saw.' I sign in desperation, suddenly wanting him to understand. I tried so hard.
"It's not your fault, Dimitri. Your father's lawyer is trying to discredit you. It's what he's paid to do.
It was the best argument he could give considering the circumstances. That doesn't make it true. I
know you told the truth. I know you're not insane. You did nothing wrong." His arms embrace me,
draw me closer to his side and I can feel his warmth seep into me. He believes me. I want to cry.
As much as I don't want to leave this warmth, I draw away because I want to speak. I want him to
understand. 'But didn't he confess? Why are they trying to prove he didn't do it when he confessed?'
His eyes are filled with grief and it pains me to see it. "I'm sorry, Dimitri." He runs his hands
through my hair, the touch more a caress of comfort than anything else. "I'm really sorry. He… your
father… Kia told me your father is pleading innocence. He's claiming that he confessed under
duress. He's saying the police pressured him so he lied. He's claiming the evidence is circumstantial.
"
'Circumstantial?' I'm shaking and my chest hurts all over again. How can they say it's
circumstantial? I know what I saw?! Oh hell, it hurts to breathe! 'What about the bodies? They
found the bodies? I showed them where he buried the bodies! What about that?!' My hands fly
through the air and panic courses through me once more. They really will let him off, won't they?
If… if he's free… he… he will…
"Shh" He grabs my hands to still their frantic, panicked movement and for a moment remains still,
giving me time calm my breath. I struggle to do so but I know I need to. I can't go back to the
hospital when I just managed to come out. "Basically his lawyer claims that you did in fact witness
the murders but that they traumatized you. You were child after all. It would traumatize anyone. It's
a good argument. He says witnessing a murder hurt you and to cope with the confusion and the
horror you turned your father into the murderer when in fact it was someone else. They're claiming
your perception has been warped by the trauma of the events. It really is a good argument but it
won't stand against the truth, Dimitri. There's far too much evidence against your father for this
argument to hold water."
What the hell? I tear my hands away from his. 'I know what they said! They said I'm crazy! They
said witnessing the murders made me crazy and I'm lying but I know what I saw!' My words are
interrupted. He's holding me tight against his chest and my arms are trapped between our bodies.
My throat hurts and I'm crying.
"Shhh." Beau is rocking my body back and forth, holding me, keeping me sane. "I know you're not
mad and so do the jury. The accusation is a desperate attempt by your father's lawyer to discredit
you but you did well. Your testimony remained consistent. It's okay, Dimitri. They won't let him go
because anyone with half a mind can see he's guilty. It's over. Your testimony is done. You don't
have to go back. Not until the verdict. It's okay. You're not crazy, a little unstable maybe but not
crazy. Shh, I love you. It'll be okay."
He says I'm not mad but a little unstable? I guess he's right. All of it hurts so bloody much and I
can't deal with it. Being a little unstable is a lot better than being insane. I am sobbing, silent tears
pouring down my face and I cling to him as if clinging to the last strands of my sanity. Thank God
someone believes me because for a moment I thought maybe my father's lawyer is right and I really
am mad.
***
I savour the heat of the mug in my hands and watch Beau over the rim. I'm in love with Beth's hot
chocolate, made from full cream milk and piled high with soft fluffy white marshmallows. She's
convinced that the best way to comfort anyone is with a hug and a mug of her hot chocolate. Oh,
and don't forget the chocolate shavings sprinkled on top of the full cream. I take a sip and allow the
sweet, creamy flavour to melt in my mouth and continue to watch Beau. He has a spot of cream on
his nose and seems to be completely oblivious to it. Oh, how I want to lick it off. I take another gulp
of my own hot chocolate and almost burn my tongue in my haste. It's hot!
He's looking at me funny, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He looks puzzled by my
actions but damn that was hot! Who wouldn't stick their tongue out and begin to wildly fan at it in
an attempt to cool it? Note to self. Don't gulp down hot chocolate in an attempt to resist the urge to
lap at cream on a certain someone's nose. It doesn't work because now my tongue stings and I still
want to lick that cream off of him!
Beau is laughing silently at me, humour gleaming in his eyes and lips pulled into a grin! The
audacity! The liquid was hot! It's not a laughing matter. I'll give him something to laugh about, just
you wait and see! Before I can even give it a second thought I lean over, ever closer to him and
then, hmm… salty, sweet… the cream is salty sweet, melting in my mouth, tinged by a flavour
uniquely his. Wait. I just licked Beau! Damn, now he's no longer laughing at me. Instead, he's
staring at me with blatant shock apparent on his face. What possessed me to do that?!
Um… Think, Dimitri. Think. This is awkward. Do something! Um… I hastily place my cup before
me and begin to sign. Anything to get rid of the awkwardness that suddenly courses through me!
'Um… so you dated Matthew for six months. Don't you think that's a long time for it to have been
nothing more than a joke?' Did I just sign that! Take out right foot from mouth, insert left. Better
yet, insert both!
Beau looks absolutely horrified and I know how he feels. I really should think before I figuratively
speak but… I… I suddenly I realise that I want to know the truth behind Beau and Mattie! "Um,
Dimitri? Where did that come from?" He's avoiding my question.
'No one would date someone for six months for a joke. He loved you and you still love him! You
can't love me because you still love him!' It hurts so much but it's true. Beau still loves Mattie. Beau
changed his life because of Mattie and Mattie must've loved him back.
Beau is horribly pale and his lips tremble as he speaks. "You don't know what you're talking about."
His voice is hoarse and his eyes are wide in shock. He's still avoiding my question…
'You slept with him, didn't you?!' The situation is slipping out of control and my hands are betraying
me. I know he slept with Mattie. He already said he's not a virgin. He slept with Mattie and he
promised Kia he wouldn't sleep with me and suddenly that hurts! 'You had sex with Mattie long
before he told you he was dating you as a joke! Didn't you?' It wasn't a joke. Mattie loved Beau.
Mattie was Beau's first love and Beau still loves Mattie.
"What difference does it make? Mattie is dead, Dimitri!" He's angry and strangely enough it's what
I want. He shouldn't waste his time on me, shouldn't get mixed up with me anymore because I'm
broken.
'It makes all the difference in the world!' I sign angrily. He doesn't understand. Why doesn't he see
what I see? Wait a minute. Beau is not stupid. He's hiding something from me! 'You still love him!
He betrayed you but he loved you and you still love him! I want to know the truth about what
happened! I want to know how you met, how you started dating and what really happened between
you, him and his brother!' Why am I so conflicted and confused? One moment I want to kiss him,
the next I'm angry. I want him to stay, I want him to leave but most of all I want to know the truth.
What I really want to ask about is Evan and Zachariah but I am afraid to ask, afraid to let Beau
know that I've spoken to Mattie's brother.
"It doesn't matter, Dimitri. None of it matters anymore." He whispers, his voice full of pain and
confusion. "I told you what I know and I… and I… Mattie is dead, Dimitri. It doesn't matter
anymore. What he felt… what I felt… none of it matters anymore because He's gone, Dimitri."
He avoided it all, my questions, his feelings and my burning desire to know. 'What happened,
Beau?! What really happened between you two?' Shit… now he's avoiding me.
"It's none of your business, Dimitri. He's dead. Just let it be." His words are so cold and they echo
through the room, laced with finality. I think I'm losing something. I wonder what it is because I'm
empty again...

Shattered pieces
The next morning is filled with silence and unspoken anger. Last night's argument hangs heavy
between us and I no longer know how to reach out towards him. Part of me wants to apologise to
him. It was after all, my fault. I brought the topic of Mattie up when I know it's a topic that really
hurts him. Another part of me is still angry, angry that after all this time, he still refuses to let me in.
He's always sticking his nose into my life, always demanding that I open up to him and tell him my
deepest darkest secrets, yet, when I ask the same of him he tells me it's none of my business.
He's watching me and his gaze if filled with pain and perhaps regret. "I… uh…" I jump at the sound
of his voice, surprised to find that he's actually speaking to me. My heartbeat quickens in
anticipation. Maybe he will tell me more about Mattie and about Evan. "I guess I'd better get
going."
I'm free falling, rushing down towards the ground at full speed with his words. Why is he leaving?
Running away from this, from me when there's so much that still needs to be said? I want to break
down and cry, beg him to open up to me but I don't. I will not break before him, will not beg him to
share his heart with me. I will not humiliate myself for this illusion of love anymore. He claims to
love me, claims to want a relationship with me yet keeps secrets from me.
'I guess.' I reluctantly sign. I need to let him go. As much as I would like to, I can't keep him here,
cannot demand an answer when he doesn't wish to give me one. I have well and truly lost against
him, against Mattie and it's, oh so, bitter. I hate Mattie with every fibre of my being.
Beau reaches out to touch me and I flinch away from his touch. I don't want him to touch me. I'm
angry and I don't want him anywhere near me. Not when he refuses to let me into the most intimate
parts of his life. I want him gone so that I may be alone once again, so that I may break in peace.
Everything is so very awkward between us now and he looks hurt. Beau is frozen in place, his eyes
searching my face, his hand still stretched out towards me and he looks so very hurt. Damn him!
He's the one that told me it's none of my business, the one that's pushing me away. What right does
he have to be hurt that I no longer want him in my life when he refuses to let me into his? That's so
hypocritical.
He drops his hand and silence hangs ever more between us. Thick and filled with so much pain. "I'll
call you." He whispers, the words tearing into me and then he's gone, leaving me shattered, bitter
and torn. I turn and run back up the stairs to my bedroom in despair, unable to hold it in anymore.
I'm disappointed.
I register a soft knock upon my bedroom door and realise I'm crying. Shit! My face is covered with
tears and someone is at the door. The handle is turning and the person is coming in. I don't want her
to see my tears. It's Beth. I know it is. She's the only one home. She's already given me so much. I
don't want to worry her more.
I wipe at my face with the sleeves of my shirt but it's all in vain. The tears keep pouring down my
face and I'm helpless to stop them. Why am I so hopeless? I hate myself more than anything right
now and… and… Her touch is warm. I can smell the scent of lilacs around me filled with spring
and love. Beth is silently holding me and I… and I can hold it back no longer. I'm sobbing, my
entire body trembling in her arms as the grief of losing Beau hits me, full force.
It's only when my tears begin to fade that she speaks, her voice soft and soothing in my ear. "Did
you fight with Beau?" The question is soft, gentle yet it still hurts. It reminds me of the strange
emptiness I now have deep within me. Beau does not trust me. Why does it even matter? It really
shouldn't because he can never be mine but it does.
"You know. It's normal to fight sometimes, Dimitri." She continues to speak, my silence enough for
her. She never waits for a response from me, never pushes me for one and even though she can't
understand sign language she somehow knows what's deep inside of me. "It shows that you're
important to each other."
Wait. Hold on, important to each other? I draw back, a frown upon my brow. How can arguing
show that someone is important to you? It doesn't make sense. Arguing is so full of conflict, so full
of pain and sheer anger. How on earth can she make it into a positive thing?
"It's true." She immediately responds to my unspoken query. "If you didn't care for each other you
wouldn't argue. You wouldn't have a reason to. The fact that you do argue shows that you care.
You're so close, him and you, and the closer you get to another person the more they can hurt you.
It's proof that you're alive. Give it time, Dimitri." She reaches towards and pulls me into an embrace
once more. "I can't promise that you two will resolve this disagreement between you but it will get
better. Give it time and talk to him when he comes home."
Time? It always comes back to time, doesn't it? It's the greatest factor required for change and the
only surety in life. Everything takes time. I don't want to talk to him. I tried to reach out towards
him and he told me it's none of my business. Can time really change that? Ever? I guess as she says,
there are no promises and whatever may happen between us, one thing is certain, there will be
change. The scent of lilacs embraces me, calms my mind and momentarily dulls the pain deep
within me. Her touch is so very warm and for a moment I am treasured.
***
Beth slipped out of my room a while ago and let Lilac in. Lilac is a bit miffed with me. She's not
impressed with being closed out of my room for so long. I swear, she thinks she owns my room and
is actually doing me a favour by letting me sleep here. She has grown quite a lot since I got her. She
weighs a whole 700 grams now and is losing her puppy fur. It looks strange on her, all the random
lengths of fur sticking out all over the place, yet she still manages to pull it off with grace. She's
pointedly ignoring me, or at least pretending to but I can see her gaze occasionally flicker in my
direction. She looks miserable.
I slip off the bed and kneel on the floor, holding my hand out to her as a peace offering. I didn't
mean to close her out. I wasn't thinking. Beau does that to me, makes me forget everything but him.
I don't care about him or Mattie! She's watching me now and I can see the conflict in her gaze. She
wants to come, just a little bit more… one… two… three… I smile as she gets up and walks
towards me, crawling into my lap and latching onto one of my fingers. She's nibbling it again. It
feels good to have her warmth in my lap, the softness of her fur against my skin and her tiny paws
upon my fingers. I'm completely lost to her and I don't think I could ever give her up.
My phone rings and I snatch it up with my free hand, answering it before I can even think about it.
"Dimitri?" My breath hisses painfully between my lips as I exhale in shock. It's him. Of course it's
him! What was I thinking? No one else ever calls me! "I… uh… I'm phoning to let you know I got
back safely. The flight was a little delayed… so I… I guess I'm a little late…" Each word he says is
awkward, uncertain and hesitant. Everything between us has changed and I want to cry all over
again. The warm casual familiarity between us is well and truly lost. I hate it with a passion. "I…
uh… just wanted you to know I guess. Dimitri, I… I… uh… I'm…. I… Never mind. Bye."
Click.
A single click followed by silence. He's hung up.

Afraid of living
There is so much white in a hospital, white walls, white sheets, white gowns, white trays and white
skin. Alex is so pale. It's already a month after his operation and he's still pale. He looks tired but at
the same time happy. How can he be happy? Death is continually looking him in the face and still
he somehow manages to look far more relaxed than I do. It's almost as if he's at peace with his life.
I do my best to see Alex every single day. It gets lonely being stuck in a hospital for days on end.
He's asked me to bring him his homework. I can't believe he's actually doing his homework but I
guess he must be bored lying here alone for so long. He's missing a lot of school but the teachers
seem to understand. I guess it's rather difficult not to understand in this case. It's certainly not as if
Alex willed this upon himself. He works really hard. It kind of brings me to shame when I
remember all those years I wasted doing nothing simply because I thought there was not point to
life. I guess something like this can really change someone's perspective.
Laura is already beside him when I enter, leaning against his bed and playing cards. She has a very
good poker face and plays a mean game of cards. Part of me wonders how she got so good but I
think it may be better not to ask. "Hey." She greets me, not even looking up from the cards. I drop
my school bag slipping into the second seat beside Alex's bed. This won't last long. The game never
does when Laura plays.
Alex smiles at me and gives me a small wave before placing his cards down. "I fold." He states
softly, meeting Laura's gaze. A smile flickers over her face and she collects the cards, silently
adding a point to her own name and reshuffling the cards. She raises an eyebrow at me and I shake
my head. I don't really want to play. Don't get me wrong, I don't have any issues with losing, it
simply that… Well, the awkwardness between Beau and I still hurts and I have no idea how to reach
over the chasm I can see gaping wide open between us. "Dimitri, are you okay?" Alex's voice is
tinged with concern.
I don't want his concern. Not when he should be worrying about himself. Here he is, still in hospital
after major heart surgery and instead of worrying about himself he's worried about me. How
pathetic am I? I shake my head and give him a wan smile in an attempt to silently let him know it's
ok.
Alex is not paying attention to me! Instead of letting the matter simply drop as I so desperately want
him to, he's reaching out towards me. His skin is soft upon mine but his hand is cool. "Is it your
father? The court case? Beau? Dimitri, please talk to us." I drop my gaze, unable to face the silent
questions in his gaze. 'I had an argument with Beau.' I sign unable to resist his silent plea. I glance
up at him in time to catch the confused look upon his face. Damn! I forgot. Alex doesn't understand
my signing. Alex is not Beau. Not giving myself time to think or back out, I reach for my bag and
quickly dig out the pad Alex gave me. I hastily write on it and slide it over towards him, afraid that
I'm going to lose my courage.
I watch as he leans over the page and Laura peers over his shoulder. It figures that Laura would
want to know every bit as badly as Alex does, if not more so. She's always lobbying for Beau and I
to do it. Wait. Laura is reading what I wrote. She'll know that I argued with Beau! What have I so
foolishly done? I really should think in future! I blink in surprise when he slides my pad back over
towards me. Something is written beneath my words in small spidery writing. 'You argued with
Beau? What about?' Alex… he… he wrote a reply. Instead of speaking, he wrote his reply and I
want to know why?
I glance up, once again. Alex is dead serious as he communicates with me on my level,
communicates with me in the same way I usually communicate with him. Surprisingly, he's not
making fun of me, not mocking me or trying to make me feel stupid. It's so strange but this feels
right, somehow. 'I asked him to tell me about his past. He got upset and we argued. It hurts that he
doesn't trust me enough to tell me about it.'
'Maybe he is not re…' I can smell the tangy scent of citrus fruit as Alex leans in towards me, sharing
my space in order to share my pad. He's scribbling, his brow furrowed and his tongue sticking out
between his lips while he concentrates on what he's writing. Alex's touch feels very good upon my
skin but it's not the same as Beau's. It is more reminiscent of Beth's, in fact. It's strange. The same
actions, nerves and sensory reactions are involved yet it's experienced so differently, depending on
whom is doing the touching. Is it truly that closely linked to our emotions? 'ready to speak about it.
Maybe he needs time.' I read the rest when he leans back, his response finally done.
How can beau not be ready to speak about it? It happened so long ago. If, as he says, time heals,
why is he still locking an intrinsic part of himself away? 'He's always prying into my life yet he
refuses to share his own with me. How can he claim to love me and refuse to tell me about himself?'
My words are furiously placed into existence, my hand sweeping across the page as emotion takes
hold of me. I want to know why? Maybe if I know it'll hurt less.
I desperately glace up and search his gaze. I'm filled with hope, the useless hope of clutching at
straws, but all too soon that hope is dashed. Alex is looking at me with a gaze filled with sadness
and I just know that he doesn't have an answer for me. Beau is shutting me out and Alex can do
nothing about it.
"Idiots." Laura's voice startles me drawing my attention to her. "Both of you are idiots." Wait. Did
she just call me and Alex…? Where did that come from?! Laura is scowling at us, the look
strangely mixed with the usual haughty expression on her face. "Everyone hides things. You two
should know that better than anyone. We hide things because of fear. You…" She glares at Alex.
"You hid your illness from all of us. Not once before this operation did you bother to tell us you
were ill! The lie you probably told yourself was that you didn't want to worry us? Well, I hate to
break it to you but that's bull! You were scared of admitting you're sick illness to us, perhaps scared
to admit it even to yourself. You were scared of our reaction. Time doesn't change that. Only you
can decide to change that."
What has gotten into her? Laura is actually upset. Her voice is breaking. It actually upset her that
she had to find out he was in hospital for heart surgery in order to find out Alex had a heart problem
to begin with and I've only just now realised that. She is so outrageous, so out there, full of lewd
comments and always calmly facing everything life throws at her. It never occurred to me that
anything could ever bother her. I mean, she was calm when I told her my father killed her aunt, for
crying out loud!
"As for you… "I jump as she turns to glare at me and my heart seems to literally leap into my
throat. Her eyes are blazing, filled with conviction and anger and the change shocks me to the core.
I never thought Laura… "You're scared of living, Dimitri. You're blaming your father and what he
did for your own inability to face life. You're scared of people. You're afraid to let anyone in, afraid
of pain, afraid of love and afraid of your own damned shadow. You've been running for years and
time never changed that, did it? Time never stopped you from running. All it did was pass you by
while you were too afraid to look at it! We all have secrets, Dimitri. We all have secrets that we're
afraid to share lest they break us and Beau is no exception."
Silence consumes us and the echo of her words rings in my ears. Afraid? Is that how she sees me?
Am I really afraid of living? No! I'm not afraid of living! What does she know? She wasn't there to
watch the life fade from my mother's eyes, to watch her aunt and all those others die, to lose them
all! She can't understand the fear, the sheer all consuming terror the… wait…
Fear. I'm filled with it, filled to overflowing. I'm scared to love, scared of losing it and scared of
having it ripped from me over and over again. Yes, I'm afraid but what does she know? What does
Laura know of the nightmares that have been all too real in my life? What does she know of this
fear that remains all too real in deep within my soul?
Nothing.

The turmoil of a broken soul

The next day at school was awkward. Laura kept acting as if nothing had happened but her words
would not, will not leave my mind. What does it mean to be afraid to live? Does it really matter? I
have every right to be afraid. I spent my entire childhood waiting for death, if not my own then that
of another. I've seen it, heard it and tasted the very essence of it. I've seen how fragile, how fleeting
and how full of illusions life truly is. Who is she to tell me that I am afraid to live?
Laura doesn't know the first thing about me yet I can't forget her words. They hurt. Her words echo
deep within me with a dull ache that I cannot ignore. Why is it that my life is always filled with
pain? Uncertainty and conflict... Why is it that I can't seem to escape it, can't seem to escape
myself? Afraid to live... I'm damned well terrified.
An all too familiar chill crawls over my skin, sinking deep into my body and into my very bones.
I'm so cold and it stings. Afraid to live. She says it as if I have some kind of control over it, as if I
can control the very fear, the very nightmares that haunt me. She says it as if I have a choice. I did
not choose this. I did not choose my father, my life or the death that has surrounded me. I didn't
choose any of it as it swept away my life, my heart and my very sanity. I didn't choose the death but
I did choose this. I chose to betray my father, my flesh blood and I chose to push Beau away. Damn
it, I miss him.
I arrive home and pause before the door, conflict waging war with my thoughts and my heart. When
did this place actually become home? When did I actually start to feel as if I belong? I want this
feeling of belonging more than my next breath. Please, please Murphy, let me have it. Don't take it
away from me. My heart flutters in my chest as I reach out towards the door. Please, oh please, let
this feeling of dread be in error.
As usual in my life, something is terribly wrong and I can feel my heart begin to break as I wait to
see what will greet me. She's crying. Beth is curled up in the living room crying. The door clicks
softly closed behind me and I'm faced with her tear streaked face, her swollen red eyes and the grief
that strangely seems to echo my own. Beth, always so strong before me, is hurting and I'm helpless.
I yearn to reach out towards her, to comfort her and wipe those tears that have no place upon her
face away yet I cannot. I... I don't know how and it hurts.
She tries to smile at me but all I can see is her grief, her raw pain and it echoes through me. Why is
she hurting so much when not so long ago she was comforting me? What did I miss? What have I
been too damned blind to see? I'm so confused, so lost as my life seems to be once again slipping
through my fingertips. It is so very fragile, filled with so much pain and so much grief. Why the hell
should I not be afraid to live?
"Welcome home, Dimitri." She sounds so lost, so hurt and I... I can't breathe. My chest aches with
unshed tears, grief and so much conflict and I... I cannot breathe. My body is trembling and I back
away from the sight of her grief, from her pain. I back away from the mirror image of myself and
run as if the hounds of hell are after me, the sound of her tears still echoing through me as the door
to my bedroom slams shut. Afraid to live... Yes, damn you! I'm afraid to live because it hurts!
***
Hate and bitterness course right through me in waves of heat and cold. I'm a coward. Beth needed
me and I ran away. Laura is right. I'm coward and this world has no place for someone like me. I'm
seated upon my bedroom floor trembling as I rock back and forth, desperately gasping for breath,
fighting my silent tears and the pain they bring. I want to die. I want to disappear from this place
and be done with it already! I am so very tired of all this pain, this conflict and terror. Please, I want
to die and be done already!
My hand is shakes violently as I trace the scar upon my arm, the scar of my failure. Even in this, I
have failed. I can't even kill myself properly and now I can't even try again because I promised Alex
I wouldn't kill myself.. I never gave voice to my silent promise yet still I'm bound by it. A promise
is a promise. I'm tired, so tired and I can't seem to escape.
Soft warmth nuzzles my hand and soft paws claw at me. Lilac is beside me crawling into the tiny
space between my stomach and my knees and lapping at my chin. Soft warmth to contradict the
bitter chill deep within me. I grab hold of her as if she holds the key to my very sanity and bury my
face in her fur, cradle her as I seek comfort and release. I desperately want some form of release.
Please, it's bubbling up within me, chocking me, strangling me with no other place to go and I
desperately want release. I'm tired of all this bottled pain and tired of standing by and doing nothing
while life strips away my soul without my consent. Where is it?! I'm scrambling across my room,
my breath ragged in my ear and my hands shaking as I search.
Where is it, where is it, where is it?!
I found it and now I'm making my way back down the stairs, back towards that which I fled. She
needs me. After everything that she's given to me it's my turn to give something back. Beth needs
comfort. Beth needs someone who understands the meaning of pain. My mother needs me and I can
run from it no longer. My mother… I like the sound of that far more than I should but I don't care.
It's time for me to start taking responsibility for me own life... time for me to face my fear and
perhaps, someday soon, conquer it.
I pause in shock and uncertainty, the soft pitter patter of paws ceasing beside me, at the sound of
soft voices from the living room. Why are there voices coming from our living room? Is someone
here? My breath roars in my ears as I struggle to remain silent, listening carefully. "Shh. It's alright.
It's over, Beth. You did nothing wrong." I recognise that deep rumbling voice but I don't recognise
the soft tone. What on earth is Kia doing here? My breath catches in my throat and for a moment, I
forget to breath. Kia is here and suddenly everything begins to make sense. The trial! How could I
have forgotten the trial?! Today was the day Beth was to testify and I... I allowed myself to forget,
to wipe that knowledge from my mind in a desperate attempt to deny the nightmare which forever
lies before me, clouding my life.
All of this is my fault. My father hurt her because I was too scared to come forward sooner, too
scared to betray my father, my flesh and blood and twisted though it was, the only family I ever
knew. Afraid to live… All my life... afraid... terrified of nightmares that were all too real. I cannot
allow the nightmares to rule my life any longer. I need to face them, face my failure, my weakness
and overcome it!
I take a deep breath and shift forward once more followed by the soft tap of Lilac's paws, only one
thought in my mind. I need to offer her what little I have to give. I owe it to her, to Beth... to the
woman that chose to become my mother in the face of all these dark nightmares that haunt and taint
my very existence.
"But he accused me seducing him, accused me of lying. I wasn't after his money. " Her voice is
filled with desperation and I ache. I ache to hear the pain, the conflict and the sheer injustice of the
accusations my father's defence apparently threw at her. How can they accuse Beth of being after
my father's money when all these years he killed them, each and every one of them for life
insurance… for blood money!
"Shh. I know Beth. I know that you weren't after his money. They're desperate, Beth. His lawyers
are desperate to find an argument that will allow them to win this and so they twist your words.
They're desperate to prove your testimony false and to do so they need to discredit you. Just like
they tried to discredit Dimitri. Surely you don't believe that he lied as well? We found the bodies
where he said they would be and I don't think that he'd lie about what he saw. What kid wants to
believe their father is a murderer? Yet you saw what they accused him of. He's not insane, Beth. He
may be hurt but he's not insane."
'He's not insane.' The power of three simple words. Kia of all people believes me. I... my throat is
thick with indescribable emotion at the realisation that he actually believes me. Three simple words
to change so much. I'm not insane. I want to cry with relief and gratitude. Kia believes me and I can
feel the shadow of doubt, a shadow I've not even managed to acknowledge let alone face, I can feel
it die. I am not insane.
"I know that, Kia. Dimitri's been through so much. Has seen things no child, wait... no person
should ever have to see. He's seen things that would've driven some twice his age mad but I know
he's not insane. It's not the same, though. Dimitri's a child and I'm not. I should've suspected
something, should've seen it coming. Cassius." She chokes. Beth chokes on the name of my father
and I ache.
"Cassius never told me his son has a speech problem. I was so confused when I first met him.
Dimitri looked so angry and hurt when he saw me. I thought maybe he was angry because he
thought I wanted to replace his mother. I had no idea what to do and Cassius told me to think
nothing of it and I didn't. Even though Dimitri never spoke to me, I didn't look for a reason for his
attitude. I thought it was his way of ignoring me. I was shell shocked the first time I saw him sign. I
should've seen it. Cassius refused to speak about his son. I should've known something was very
wrong when Dimitri tried to kill himself. I found him in the bathroom, covered in blood and I
thought my heart would stop." I... Why did Beth care if I lived or died? What difference did I make
to her then? I don't understand her.
" I wanted so much to have him as my son and I failed him. We nearly lost him. Cassius was
agitated, angry and irritable but I thought nothing of it. I thought... I thought he was simply upset
that his son had tried to commit suicide. I honestly never thought there may be more to it than that.
Dimitri seemed so tense, so full of anger and rebellion, especially when his father was around but I
never noticed. I never bothered to find out what was bothering my son! And then... that day...
Dimitri screamed. I'll never forget the sound of his voice. It was raw and filled with so much agony.
I failed him, Kia."
I... She... I can feel the cool wall at my back as I slide slowly to the ground, silent tears pouring
down my face. The moment I'm down my lap is filled with soft warmth, a tiny fluffy black body
with black eyes gazing up at me in sorrow. I hurt Beth so much yet she feels that she failed me.
Beth did not fail me. Without her I would be broken, empty, with no place to go and nothing left to
fight for. I failed her. I need to make it up to her. I need to make her smile again. I want to hear the
happiness and the hope in her voice again. I want Beth back. I want her smile back only I have no
idea what to do.
I glance down at the fragile wooden object within my clasp and I know where to start. Closing my
eyes I take a deep breath and bring the object to my lips. This moment will be my gift to her and
maybe we can start again. I'm shaking and I knock my teeth as apprehension threatens to rid me of
my courage. I will not let fear rule my life any longer! It's that stubborn fleeting thought and the
memory of the disappointment in Laura's eyes that gives me enough courage to blow.
I give voice to all the grief, regret and pain that threaten to overwhelm me and play the gift she gave
me. These pipes are my clearest voice and I sing for the one that gifted me with it. Each note, each
and every note is for her, for me and for our shared pain and they fill the air between us. Long,
lilting, sorrow filled notes into which I place my soul.
I lose myself in the seemingly random pattern of notes that escape the small instrument in my
hands, formed by my lips, obeying my will alone. It's my voice, my pain and my salvation. I lose
myself in the music that I am now beginning to rely on and hope that it will be enough for me and
for her.
It's only as the notes die that I realise I've closed my eyes to the harsh reality of the world around
me and lost myself in that which I have created. Silent tears still mar my skin yet no longer are they
bitter. In offering what little I have to give I have strangely gained something in return.
I barely have time to recover from the emotion I've given voice to before I'm surrounded by
warmth, comfort and the sweet, sweet scent of lilacs. "Thank you." Her voice is soft, gentle and
thankfully lacking the grief it held but a moment ago. "Thank you, Dimitri." And so, I regain a
shard of my broken soul.

Melody and melancholy

Today Alex is coming out of hospital and I find that I can't wait. I missed his support and smiles and
I missed randomly trying to accompany him as he plays. I've grown accustomed to his presence and
I have no idea when or how. He doesn't judge me I guess. As badly as I play he always seems to
light up when I try to accompany him and regardless of all the chaos within my life he's chosen to
remain by my side.
I resist the urge to jump as I make my way through familiar all too white corridors. Seven weeks of
walking through these corridors will soon be over. This place with its too white walls, antiseptic
scent and grieving families is depressing and someone as kind and gentle as Alex has no place here.
I'm surprised Alex hasn't gone mad yet. I would have. This place makes me claustrophobic. It
reminds me far too much of things better left forgotten.
Relief courses through me as I slip into Alex's room. He looks good. Alex honestly looks good,
seated upon the hospital bed now clothed in his own clothes with Josh on his right and Laura on his
left. It would seem that I'm a little late but it matters not. "Dimitri!" Alex exclaims innocent
happiness upon his face as he spots me. Alex is actually happy to see me and I a strange warmth
deep within me. "Would you please remind your boss and our girl, that I'm not an invalid?"
My boss and our girl? What on earth is Alex going on about? I can understand the boss comment
because now that I think about it, Josh is technically my boss but our girl? Laura hits Alex lightly on
the arm and suddenly I understand. Alex is referring to Laura and now that I look I can see the
humour in dancing in his gaze.
'Don't do that to me!' I sign without thinking, only realising what I've done when I see his frown of
confusion. I've gone completely insane. I have not the faintest idea as to what has come over me!
Instead of taking out my pad and writing down what I've said I suddenly bring my thumb to my
nose and wiggle my other fingers around as I tease him. I stick the tip of my tongue out as well and
suddenly he's giggling like a girl.
"Come on. Enough horsing around. Let's go. After all, we wouldn't want to waste all the effort you
went to in order to convince your mother that you would be safe with me for the afternoon." Josh
reprimands Alex, but his eyes too, are sparkling in humour and it's rather difficult to take him
seriously. Alex calms but a little and glances up to meet Josh's obviously put on disapproving frown
before bursting out into giggles all over again.
Alex is an idiot but I guess we all are. Laura is smirking as she watches Alex giggle and Josh has
lost his disapproving frown to smile instead. I find that even I'm grinning broadly and for some
reason none of it feels strange nor out of place. This is a happy moment and I guess we all have
every right to act like idiots. Alex is finally coming back to us.
***
Josh has taken us to his apartment and it's strange. I'm not entirely sure why. Part of it has to do with
the fact that when I think of Josh, I think of the music store. The idea of being in his apartment is
rather foreign to me. Furthermore, if you had asked me a few days ago, I would have never been
able to picture hanging out with Josh anywhere except for in a work environment. The hospital
doesn't count. Somehow, normal rules don't apply there. Yet here I am, at his apartment with Laura
and Alex beside me and it feels so wrong.
I ache and it feels like a part of me is missing. Okay, maybe not quite missing but wrong somehow.
I'm so confused. I know Josh, I trust Josh for crying out loud, so why does this feel so wrong to me?
It feels as if something has been taken and then replaced with the wrong thing, replaced with
something that simply does not fit.
My breath hitches in my throat in sudden realisation. I know why this feels so very wrong. Damn it,
I know and now I wish that I did not! I miss him and it's as a very part of me is missing too. I miss
Beau! This feels wrong because Beau isn't here. We spent so many school lunch hours under the
tree as a group of four: Laura, Alex, Beau and me. So many and I took it all for granted and now we
seem to be a group of four once more only Beau has been replaced by Josh. It feels so very wrong
and the realisation hits me like a ton of bricks.
I ignore the hollow empty feeling in my gut and follow Alex into the apartment only to stop dead.
To say I'm shell shocked would be an understatement. This place... his apartment... Let's just say
that this is definitely not what I expected! There's just so much space! I mean, the music shop is so
cluttered, so random and this place, this apartment... It's huge, sparsely decorated with fairly
modern furniture and organised. Definitely not a place I pictured Josh in.
I guess I'm not the only one shocked into silence, speaking entirely figuratively of course seeing as
vocalisation is not exactly my forte. Laura and Alex too are frozen in the doorway and Josh simply
laughs as he walks in past us and heads towards his kitchen. "Can I get you anything?" He offers
casually, his words and the ease with which he moves around this place spinning out of control in
my mind. This place... Josh... this place... it... it simply refuses to make any sense!
He breezes right past us carrying three glasses filled with cold drink and places them onto a glass
table before turning to us, his eyes sparkling. "So are you going to stand there gaping all day or are
you actually going to come in and sit down. I'm sure Alex needs to get off his feet." Oh yes. Alex!
We came here because something came up and Alex's mother will be unable to be home. Laura and
I leap into motion. Alex really does need to relax and standing around gaping like idiots it not
helping achieve that goal.
#
It hasn't taken long for things to fall into a pattern that would be considered normal by most. Alex
and Laura are chatting and Josh is smiling, occasionally throwing in a word or two. Things would
appear to be rather relaxed but I can't seem to shake the anxiety deep within me. I feel out of place.
I'm not normal. I don't belong here. I can't speak or even laugh. Most days even something as
simple as a smile feels foreign upon my face. I shouldn't be here.
It's there, deep within me, clawing at me and desperately fighting to get out: anxiety, fear and a
desperate desire to run. What on earth am I doing here? Sitting, silent and still while they talk, laugh
and enjoy themselves without me? "Why don't you play for us?" Josh's words tear into my thoughts
and I glance up, fear thick in my throat. Is he talking to me? I am so confused and disorientated.
They want me to play? But... but... I should've listened, paid attention to what they were saying and
now…
"I don't know." Alex states softly, pulling a face and glancing at his violin, propped up against a seat
in the living room. "I don't think I could do it justice." Josh was speaking to Alex and not me. I
should be relieved but I am not. I'm bitterly disappointed.
"Come on, Alex." Laura prompts. "You're finally free of that stuffy place. Live a little. I want to
hear you play. Everyone tells me you're good but I have yet to hear you for myself." Hold on a
minute… is that... is that a pout! Laura is pouting! This must be a hallucination. She... she... hold on
a minute... she's laughing now! I should've known. Laura will do anything in order to shock and if
the look upon Alex's face is anything to go by, she most certainly succeeded.
"Come, Alex. I'll accompany you." Josh offers lightly, chuckling alongside Laura. All of this feels
so surreal, so strange and I struggle to comprehend it all. Accompany him? Accompany him how? I
blink in confusion as Josh stands. Picking up Alex's violin he winks at us and slips out the room.
Laura follows him, a smirk upon her face, leaving Alex and I behind. I glance at him and see my
confusion mirrored in his gaze as we sit there for a moment, both overwhelmed by the turn events
seem to have taken.
Alex smiles at me and my anxiety fades. It's almost as if that single smile has drawn me towards
him and made me belong. Now that I think about it, I too want to hear him play that violin I so
much wanted for myself when I first laid eyes upon it, the violin that brought me to music and to
him. I raise an eyebrow in challenge and shrug before standing and following after Josh and Laura.
Alex will follow. He can't help but follow and hopefully he will give in and play the music that
seems to bring his very soul to life.
It's official. The world has gone mad and I am trapped within a crazy dream. Josh has a piano! A
huge piano set up in a room filled with instruments. I have no idea why this surprises me so much
seeing as he does own a music store but surely there's a limit to what he can have in his home. At a
mere glance I can see a set of drums, three guitars and a piano! Josh runs his fingers over the keys
as Alex follows me in and grins at us. Laura, being Laura, has of course draped herself on top of the
piano and is trying to give us a look that I assume is supposed to be sultry. Go figure.
Josh runs his fingers up and down the piano a few more times before Alex finally gives in with a
sigh. He makes his way over to Josh and Josh points to his violin. "I already set it up." Josh states,
standing to run his finger over a cable that's now attached to the instrument. "I connected it to that
amp." He points to a black box and turns to Alex once more. "So you may want to tune it first."
Alex looks nervous as he takes the violin and exchanges a few soft words with Josh before placing
the violin at his chin. I grab one of the chairs randomly scattered throughout the room and seat
myself as Alex plays a few notes, adjusting a few strings before starting a melody. Josh is grinning
as he makes his way back towards the piano and soon I'm lost within wordless expression.
I miss the music the very instant the last note dies and it takes me a moment to realise that I'm the
centre of attention. Alex, Laura and even Josh are looking at me and I'm not sure I like the look in
their eyes. They're up to something. "Come play with us." Chills course through me at Josh's lightly
spoken words. He wants me to what? After... after... that! He wants me to play with them after I just
heard what he and Alex played? Because let me tell you, Josh plays one mean piano. "Don't look so
worried. Play something you know and we'll play with you." Josh adds.
I leap up off the chair and desperately shake my head in denial. I can't play with them! I'm going to
humiliate myself. 'I can't.' I sign, only half conscious of the fact that they can't understand me. 'I
didn't bring my panpipes.' I continue to sign, simulating playing the instrument and then showing
them my bare hands in a desperate bid to help them understand me.
Josh smiles and walks around his piano. He pauses. I pant into the air, panic ragged in my breath
and all too soon he's making his way over towards me. He reaches out and in his hands I see silver
panpipes. "I bought these recently and haven't had a chance to bring them to the store yet. You can
borrow them. Please, Dimitri, play."
I swallow past the lump in my throat and glance from Josh to Alex only to see Alex's pleading gaze
upon me. 'Please' He mouths and the word is as clear as if he had shouted it. I can't deny Alex this
simple request and I reach for the silver instrument before I can give myself a chance to think and
change my mind. Far too soon for my own liking I'm beside him. I bring the silver instrument to my
lips and my first few notes are shaky. My hand is trembling, my nerves have gone haywire and all I
can think about is how badly I play compared to them.
Alex smiles at me and brings his violin up joining me. He is happy. I made Alex happy and
suddenly it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter that I can't compare. It doesn't matter that all I
can play are simple melodies. Alex is happy and the music that surrounds us is warm. The piano
joins us and the music seems to gain an entirely new dimension but it seems my surprises for the
day are not done. The piano is not the last to join us. Laura can sing!
I've just managed to lose myself in yet another song when my phone rings cutting me short. Beau is
calling me! I tear the silver instrument away from my lips and place it carefully on the piano. My
breath hitches in my throat and I rush out the room, waving at Alex, Josh and Laura in a desperate
bid for them to continue without me. I don't want them to see. It may be selfish but I want to be
alone to hear Beau's voice.
Things are still awkward and the argument we had before he left still seems to hang between us but
Beau still calls me and I wait for it, long for him to call almost as much as a drug addict would long
for his next shot. I bring the phone to my ear and press the button, my breath still caught in my
throat in anticipation.
"Dimitri?" As usual he greets me using my name and I have to resist the urge to cry. Damn it.
What's wrong with me? Why am I so emotional today? Why do I miss him so much? "I..." He
hesitates and I can feel my chest begin to tighten in dread. Beau is hesitating. It's not like him. This
is not going to be good. I ram my fist into my mouth, desperate to keep any sound that may emerge
in check. I can't speak. I am too ashamed to but since the day I regained use of my voice, I've been
unable to check my whimpers of pain, especially when it comes to Beau.
"I can't make it." He sounds miserable and I can feel my chest begin to ache. "I can't come home for
the holidays." He curses softly and I bite my knuckles, fighting the cry of distress that's making its
way up my throat. "I'm sorry, Dimitri. I just found out that we're required to work somewhere every
year in order to gain some kind of experience and I'd rather do it now and get it over with than later.
I can't get my degree if I don't do this and I want to be there when the verdict comes out. I'm sorry
Dimitri. I'm really sorry."
There is silence on the other side of the line and I have to fight the ache, the tears and the bitter
disappointment. I drop my hand and cancel the call, silent tears escaping my control. He can't make
it and I can't find it in my heart to listen to his apologies. It hurts. Beau can't come home and I'll
have to spend the holidays alone with this ache and conflict deep in my heart.

Newest additions
What point is there to holidays? Days of rest, set aside to celebrate one thing or another. People
actually look forward to them! I hate them with a passion. What's the point of wandering around
with absolutely nothing to do, nothing to turn your mind away from the dark nightmares that just
wait for the first opportunity to get you. Nothing and no one, emptiness reminding you just how
alone you truly are. Each day building up to Christmas keeps reminding me that I have no one. My
father is in jail, awaiting the next phase of the trial, school is out and Alex and Laura are off
somewhere obscure, visiting family, Beth is with Kia and Beau… well Beau is not coming home.
The only thing left to distract me from my own depression is work and Josh won't let me work more
than half a day.
We're leaving today so even if by some strange chance Beau does come home for a few days during
Christmas, I won't be here to see him. I hate it! Beth is taking me to go see her family and I really
don't want to go. Part of me is hoping he will come for a few days and I'm reluctant to leave lest I
miss him entirely. I miss him enough as it is and now even my slim hope is being shattered.
Murphy, as usual, certainly does take special care of me.
"Dimitri!" My fate is sealed with a single word. I can procrastinate no more and have to go
downstairs to meet Beth. I know I should be grateful, should be happy that she's going to so much
effort to include me into her family but I… I want to see him and there's no chance of that if I leave.
I swing my backpack onto my back and gather Lilac up into my arms, receiving a sloppy kiss for
my efforts. Lilac likes to kiss me and even though I appreciate her affection, I'm not in the mood
right now.
I walk down the stairs as slowly as humanly possible, trying to avoid the inevitable. It won't change
anything. Logically, I know that but I can't seem to convince my reluctant body of that and every
step I take is heavy. I long to run back up the stairs to close myself in my room, my sanctuary and
my place of safety. Strange, isn't it? How life can change one's very perception. Before moving in
with Beth, my own bedroom was one of the last places I would've felt safe. True, it was safer that
other parts of whichever place my father chose for us to reside in, but it was never safe; never safe
from the yelling, the screams and the deathly silence. That was the worst part, the deathly, unnatural
silence that signified an end, silence followed by shuffling footsteps and a quiet order from him,
from the man that calls himself my father.
I don't know the people Beth calls family and they don't know me. They… I… I think I'm going to
be a shock to them. Their daughter is coming home, unmarried and still single. More importantly,
their daughter is coming home to them with a teenage son in tow. No matter how one looks at it,
this simply cannot end well and I'm terrified. I don't want to face the disappointment upon their
faces, the questions in their eyes and the sadness of it all. They're not my family. They must hate
me. I would hate me if I were in their place.
Too soon, I'm seated in the car with Beth in the driver's seat and Kia in the passenger seat. Did I
mention Kia is coming as well? Crazy as it sounds, Kia has decided that he'd like to accompany
Beth and I to her family lest something happen. Apparently his reasoning is concern for us as his
prize witnesses in the court case against my father but seriously who does he take me for? He likes
her. It's written all over him, plain as day. He likes her and she seems to like him back. He makes
her smile. Okay, so maybe Beth is not exactly single but at the moment that's not a thought I want to
contemplate. I mean, if she's my mother and she gets together with Kia that would make him… that
would make him my… Hell no! Let's not go there! Definitely not a good idea for my sanity right
now.
I see Beau every time I look at Kia and it makes me want to cry. I miss talking to him. By talking I
mean signing, so maybe I should rephrase that and say I miss communicating with him. He calls but
it's not the same. His voice is filled with sadness, with awkward distance and I… I can't even reach
out to him, can't tell him anything let alone tell him about the conflict that seems to burn deep
within me. I want to know what secret he hides from me yet at the same time I want to let it be,
forget about it and simply have things go back to the way they used to be. I want to have him back
here, beside me, laughing at me, teasing me and holding me.
I hear the gravel as the car slows to a standstill and watch the small smile that Beth shares with Kia.
I can feel a thick lump of dread make its home deep in my throat and curl around the warmth in my
lap. I need to breathe. It… it will be alright. I'm not alone. I have Beth, Kia and Lilac with me. I'm
not alone yet I've never felt more alone in my entire life. I can't do this. They will look at me and
know that I ruined, am still ruining their daughter's life.
"And this must be Dimitri." The words accompany the cool air, both of which seem to hit me from
nowhere throwing my thoughts and emotions into complete and utter disarray. Wait! I'm not ready
to… An unfamiliar face is peering at me, warm lines of amusement framing sparkling warm hazel
eyes. They are Beth's eyes. This woman has Beth's eyes and that can only mean one thing. She is
Beth's mother. "Welcome. We've been dying to meet you. Beth has told us a lot about you and we
were curious to meet the young man that stole our little Beth's heart." What? This makes no sense.
Her words are warm, genuine and she's actually smiling at me. I can see no disappointment, no
sadness and no condemnation. The question is definitely there, in her gaze but I see no hostility.
"Dimitri doesn't really speak mom. You know that." Beth's face joins that of her mother and I can
see the humour sparkling in her gaze. "You really should give him some room so he can get out the
car and breathe. You have the next couple of days to spoil him rotten, you know. We won't be
running away, mom."
"But he's such a handsome young man and so quiet too. You only come here a few times a year and
he's definitely one of the newest additions to our family, Beth." None of this makes any sense as the
woman before me turns to speak to Beth. "Grant an old woman some leniency and let me get a good
look at my new grandson, would you? He doesn't mind, does he?" She's looking at me once again
and I can see the clear question in her gaze. Her words s echo through my mind and slowly slip into
the realm of reason as I fight to understand.
Time seems to pass me by in a strange disjoint fashion, sight and sound overwhelming me, crushing
me, each demanding immediate attention and response. I can see hope in her eyes as she looks at
me, awaiting my response and Beth is silent beside her. It takes some doing but I manage to
overcome the paralysis of my shock enough to shake my head, enough to give this stranger the
confirmation she's looking for. I didn't have it in me to refuse, not when she looked at me like that.
I'm outside in the bitter, moist, cold air, held tightly to her rather… um… voluptuous chest. "I'm so
glad. My name is Diana but everyone calls me Daisy. You can call me Daisy too though I'd love it if
one day you'd call me Grandma. I've wanted a grandchild for so many years and now my dream's
finally come true." Her touch is warm, her warmth battling the chill air the surrounds us. It's
strange, but her simple touch, eases my heart and wipes my fear away. I miss it the moment she
draws away from me. "Let's get inside. You must be cold and tired. I made some of my famous stew
to warm you right up." Her eyes are sparkling with happiness and she actually winks at me. "I have
two new men in the family to feed." And with that, she turns and heads to the door of a wooden
cabin, covered in snow and surrounded by trees.
I stare after her in uncertainty, part of me still wary of that which lies before me and another part
completely overwhelmed by the strange greeting I've received. It doesn't seem to bother her that I'm
not of her flesh and blood and that makes absolutely no sense to me. My fear seems to be
unfounded and unexpectedly it's the strangest letdown. Don't get me wrong. I'm relieved but a part
of me is lost and I don't know what to do. Technically I have yet to meet Beth's father but something
tells me that he won't hate me either. "Well come along." Daisy turns to us and waves her hand.
"Hurry up or it's going to get cold and I refuse to keep reheating it. Hop to it! Hop, hop, hop."
I jump just a touch at the no nonsense tone in Daisy's voice and before I know what I'm doing I'm
making my way towards her, my backpack on my shoulder and Lilac at my heels. Lilac is yipping
in glee and running ahead of me to roll around in the snow before running back towards me and
nipping at my ankle. She too seems to want me to move forward and is overjoyed at the layer of
snow that coats the land around us. Either that or she doesn't like her natural black fur and is now
adamant to make it white. Either way, I'm getting snow all over my pants from her eager,
hyperactive antics and suddenly I giggle. Daisy and Lilac have a cumulative effect on me and I find
myself giggling like a little girl!
Too soon for my own comfort, I find myself standing at the doorway to the small cabin that holds
my new family yet at the same time it's not soon enough. I hesitate. Lilac looks up at me out of
forlorn puppy eyes as I pause, my thoughts racing far too quickly for me to even comprehend their
meaning and my heart beating in rapid pace. I feel firm warmth upon my shoulder and barely
manage to prevent myself from jumping out of my skin at the sheer unexpectedness of it. I glance
back and see Kia, his hand resting on my shoulder and a nervous smile upon his lips. "Well, it's now
or never." His words resound through me seeming to signify a key milestone in my life and I take a
moment to simply let their meaning wash over me. I nod, take a deep breath and step forward.

Family
Beth's father's name is George and he's huge. Not huge as in breadth wise though he does seem to
have a few extra inches there as well, but huge as in tall. I have to tilt my head up to see him. He
looks nothing like Beth and for some strange reason I can't seem to picture him with Daisy. It's
simply so… so… outrageous. If ever there was a mismatched pair, I think this would be it. Daisy
isn't much bigger than Beth and George, well… he's huge. If I wasn't so shocked I would be terribly
intimidated. As it is, I still can't comprehend him and Daisy together in any way whatsoever.
The moment I walked into Beth's parents home he gave me a silent greeting, nothing more and
nothing less than a simple nod. It was rather unexpected. Daisy's stew really was good and even
Lilac got to have some. The conversation revolved around Kia, Beth and Daisy. George doesn't say
much. In fact, I've not heard him say anything at all. If I didn't know better I'd say he was mute.
Hold on a second. I don't know better! That's beside the point. Somehow I manage to find myself
outside on the porch with this huge silent man and the strangest thing is I have no recollection of
coming here at all. Logically speaking I should be freaking out and panicking right about now but
he's just such an enigma.
"Beth says you don't speak." I jump a mile high, leaving my skin behind as I do so. Okay, so that's
an exaggeration but I do jump in shock at the sudden sound of his voice, my heart in my throat,
every beat pulsing through me. Damn you, Murphy. I just manage to convince myself that he's mute
and then you go and ruin it for me. His voice scared me and it takes me a moment to force my heart
back into my chest.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye and turn away to contemplate the landscape before me
before shaking my head in negation, or confirmation depending on how one looks at it. George's
voice is soft. It seems strange coming from such a big man and by the looks of things he's gentle to
boot. I guess this is just another bizarre contradiction in that which has become my life. Nothing
makes logical sense in my life anymore. Not since meeting Beau. I mean, the captain of the football
team was a pink and purple streaked artist, the school valedictorian is a girl that goes around kissing
other girls in bathrooms and putting on shows to embarrass others (yes, it turns out Laura is quite
bright), I work at a music store filled with merchandise sorted by colour, a young woman decides to
adopt a teenage boy and the football captain's brother seems to be getting together with my new
mother making the football captain my uncle.
What?! Hell no! Nononononononono! Beau can't be my uncle. That would be… that would simply
be… How do I put this? Wrong! It would be wrong on so many levels that it's not even funny. I
can't date my uncle. Wait just one minute. Date? Who the hell said anything about dating? I don't
want to date Beau. Besides… technically he isn't really my uncle. We're not related by blood, so it
wouldn't be wrong, would it? Strange maybe but I found Beau way before Beth found Kia. I have
first dibs. Wait. No! I'm not dating Beau! Besides, Beth and Kia are not likely to…
"Beth is a good kid." Beth… Kia… Me… Beau. Wait, what? "She really loves you, you know."
Helloooo chatterbox. Now that he's broken his eternal vow of silence, George seems to want to talk.
Okay, so there was no eternal vow of silence and his speech is slow and careful but I by far prefer
his complete silence. I have no idea how I am supposed to respond to him and now that he's actually
speaking to me, I feel I owe him at least something. "You look like a good kid." Oh hell, he did not
just say that. Please Murphy; tell me he did not just say that. "I know looks can be deceiving but I
trust my daughter's judgment."
A strange silence filled with expectancy and contemplation stretches between us like an elastic band
threatening to snap and rebound onto both of us. He's every bit as awkward and uncomfortable as I
am and his eyes seem to bore into me, searching for reassurance. I realise that he's every bit as
confused and uncertain as I am. Relief courses through me, draining tension I had not realised I held
as I hold his unsure gaze. I'm not the only one that is lost, overwhelmed and a touch out of place
and that changes everything.
I feel my lips quirk into a small wary smile. It's all I can give him yet it seems to be enough. George
relaxes and now he doesn't look so huge anymore. He clears his throat, the sound gruff and a little
awkward and holds his hand out to me. "Welcome to the family, Dimitri."
Family, he's welcoming me to his family and I… I… There's a thick lump in my throat and tears in
my eyes but I'm not miserable, scared nor sad. Why are there tears in my eyes? Why is my throat
thick? Why is my heart beating in rapid haste when there's not a trace of panic or fear or sadness
within me? It's strange. This emotion welling up deep within me is so strange, so foreign and I'm
not sure what to think of it. He wants me. They want me as part of their family and I've never had a
family before. I never had anything more than my father and my fear. I want this so bad I'm going
to break down and weep. I reach out towards George my hand shaking a touch as I do so. His hand
is warm, firm and confident when it envelopes mine and shakes it. A simple touch, a simple shaking
of the hand yet it seems to mean so very much.
"Beth says you're learning to use my father's panpipes. It's about time someone brought life back
into that instrument. You should play them for us sometime." And with that, he releases my hand,
ruffles my hair and walks back into the wooden home. He leaves me alone with my thoughts and
the strange new emotions that seem to have taken up permanent residence within me.
***
Lilac has abandoned me. The traitor! Or is it traitoress seeing as she's female? I wake on Christmas
morning to find myself completely alone in bed. It's still dark outside and there's not a single trace
of a tiny black fuzz ball to be found. I'm a little hurt. I've grown accustomed to waking up to a warm
greeting from her. I shiver as I slip out of bed, the cold air emphasizing the small bundle of warmth
that seems to have mysteriously gone missing. I grab the nearest jersey and pull it on, only one
thought in mind. I need to find her.
The moment I step out of my assigned room I hear soft laughter, a girly giggle followed by a deeper
rumbling tone. Someone is already up and it looks like they're trying to be quite. I can actually hear
someone being shushed. I take a few cautious steps towards the whispered voices, hoping that they
know where Lilac is. Seeing as there are only five of us here, the two already up can only be Beth,
Kia, George or Daisy. I don't picture George as a one to laugh like that so the masculine voice has to
be Kia which leads me to believe that it's Beth that's up with him.
I pause at the entryway to the living room and find that I'm right. The room is occupied by Beth and
Kia, and although that's more or less what I expected, I wasn't expecting the sight that actually
meets my gaze. Beth is shifting across the living room floor towards a brightly lit Christmas tree,
glancing at Kia as she does so. She almost seems to be taunting him. Kia is chuckling and grabbing
her clothes in a half hearted effort to slow her progress. "Beth, we can't open the gifts without
everyone else." He's laughing and it's more than apparent to me that he's not taking her threat
seriously.
"But it's Christmas tradition." Beth protests actually pouting at Kia. "Opening gifts the moment you
wake up is half the fun." Beth grins at him before turning away from Kia. She's now crawling
across the floor, wiggling around as she does so. I… I did not just see that! Beth is actually. She's
actually… The realisation makes me close my eyes as fast as possible but it's already far, far too
late. I have the image of her wiggling her… um… rear end burned into my mind and the very
idea… No! I don't even want to go there.
"But it's still dark outside, Beth. No one's up yet and rightly so. It's too early for anyone to be up.
Technically speaking, you aren't the first to wake up seeing as you never went to sleep. This is
cheating." Kia's words are followed by a surprised gasp from Beth and I resist the urge to open my
eyes. I can't. It's definitely not a good idea to open my eyes right now. My mind is racing, providing
me with many reasons she could have made a sound like that and I really don't wish to entertain, let
alone confirm any of them.
"And what are you going to do about it?" Her voice is breathless, husky, each sound I now hear
amplified tenfold by the fact that my eyes are closed and my sight now limited. My mind seems to
be adamant in its efforts to dive into the deepest darkest gutters imaginable and I can feel my skin
begin to burn with the very thought of… the very thought of… Oh hell. I definitely don't want to go
there.
"Why, detain you of course." Kia responds mischief clear in his tone, the kind of mischief that
reminds me of his rather interesting gifts to me. His words are followed by… silence. It's the kind
of silence where you just know what they are doing. The kind of silence you hear in bedrooms,
behind closed doors. I want to disappear. I want to be anywhere but here. This cannot… this can't be
happening to me. It… it…
A whimper is torn from my throat before I can even attempt to stem its flow and I tense in
anticipation because there's no way that they could not have heard me and now they will think I was
spying on them and… and now… "Dimitri?" Beth's voice sounds surprised and a touch uncertain.
"It is you!" I can hear her exclaim in joy, uncertainty seemingly forgotten. "Merry Christmas!"
Disorientation and confusion course through me. I find myself suddenly moving and open my eyes,
unable to deny myself sight any longer. Beth is beaming at me and dragging me over towards the
Christmas tree. "Help me open presents." She pleads and then glances at Kia to stick her tongue out
at him. "Now we can open them! Dimitri was asleep and is now awake so technically it's not
cheating anymore." With that said she pulls me down to face the multitude of packages that seem to
await us there.
A scarf, some chocolate, a pair of slippers and a new set of paintbrushes later I was finally allowed
to go eat breakfast. I found Lilac. She was and still is lying in front of the fireplace, fast asleep,
bright orange flames flicking off her dark fur. Occasionally she will open her eyes and peer at me
before shifting and drifting off once more without a care in the world. Breakfast was a simple meal
and everyone ate it together. It was a strange experience and I'm not sure I can even begin to
describe the feelings that coursed through me. If I were to try I'd have to say it was the strangest
mixture of fear, uncertainty, confusion, warmth, happiness and belonging. Everyone was laughing
and talking and pulling crackers. I actually managed to get the prize from my cracker; a small
keying with a reindeer dangling off of it. I know it's not much but it means a lot to me. It felt good
to be normal (or at least pretend to be), to do normal things and to simply forget all the nightmares
in my life for a little while.
I know I'm far from normal and that technically I have some serious issues but Beth, Kia and her
parents let me forget that for a while. I still miss him. Even though he called to wish me a merry
Christmas, I still miss Beau like crazy but I don't regret this… this warmth, this acceptance and this
experience. I've spent Christmas at home with my father and those he chose to kill but it was all an
extravagant game, a pretence, to convince them that everything was normal when in reality it was
anything but. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted nothing to do with the false festivities, the
fake love and all the overly expensive gifts that held no meaning. Christmas at Beth's place is
simple in contrast, far simpler than anything my father ever did and I find that I by far prefer this. I
prefer the small gifts that people actually put thought into, the small gathering and the simple home
cooked fare. I think this is what Christmas is meant to be about. Family.
My new family.

Left behind
There's so much change around me and I'm starting to feel left behind. Beau is living his life at
university without me, Alex is coming out of his shell and spending ever more time with Josh and
Laura, Lilac is getting big, Kia is courting Beth and even Kevin seems to have given up picking on
people. Laura, on the other hand, is still as outrageous as ever. Some things, I guess, never change.
At least I'm not the only one being left behind.
I miss him. I want Beau back. I want to take my words back and want things to be alright between
us again. I can't take this awkwardness anymore. It hurts. I hate this feeling of being left behind, this
ache deep within me, that longs for him. Why? Why do I literally ache for him? It makes no sense. I
think I may be losing my mind!
Sometimes I can feel his presence, hear his voice, smell his scent and it's driving me insane. He's
not here, yet my mind keeps taunting me with images of him, with ghostly memories that
sometimes seem all too real and threaten to drive me to the brink of despair and beyond. It's
unhealthy, this obsession of mine. It can't be healthy to miss someone so much, too long for
someone you don't even love. It is so very, very wrong, yet even so these images refuse to leave my
mind!
Oh the images! I whimper in pain and frustration and thankfully, Lilac is the only one to hear. I can
see Beau in my mind, his bright pink and purple streaks, his ruffled silken brown hair, his sparkling
green eyes and his lips. Damn those lips and the things they do to me! I'm hot. My skin is on fire as
it recalls his gentle touch, his soft fingers and the warmth of his embrace! I hate him with every
fibre of my being because now my body hungers for his touch! It's his fault! It's all because he
touched me, broke me, held me and drew me into his spell.
I want him! I want Beau to touch me, to hold me and to do so much more. I want him to do with me
what he did with Mattie; damn it! I hate Mattie with every breath I take! Mattie who touched him,
kissed him, had him all to himself and then turned around and hurt him and I hate Beau, for still
loving him. Beau still loves Mattie and the very thought of it, makes me want to weep.
My heart is racing, its rate increasing with every memory of him and I can almost believe he's here,
right beside me, his scent drifting in the air. He is here with me, in my mind and I'm begging him
for more because I love him.
Deep chill courses through me instantly dousing the fire in my blood and the heat in my skin. It
can't be true! I hate him! I don't love him! I can't love Beau! It's wrong in so many ways. I'm
incapable of love! I'm not supposed to love! I'm not supposed to return the feelings I know he has
for me when I know he deserves so much better. I don't want to encourage him! Beau can do so
much better than me!
I can't breathe! My chest is pressing in on me, smothering me and I can hear my ragged gasps for
air tear through the silence around me. I can't love Beau. I don't deserve to love him, but damn it, I
do. I love Beau and there is nothing I can do about it. My lips are salty and I realise that I'm crying,
silent tears, pouring down my face, each one falling in silent release of the grief, conflict and self
hatred I hold deep within me. Damn it! I love Beau and I… I can't live without him. I need him, I
want him and I hate him, all because I love him.
Why does it hurt so much? Is love not supposed to be a good feeling? Filled with euphoria,
happiness, sunshine, flowers and chocolates? Is love not supposed to be the ideal dream state
everyone reaches for? You know, heal the world with love and peace. Well screw that! It hurts. It's a
dull ache deep within you that keeps reminding you that you're not whole, that you are missing
something, something that defines the very meaning of who you are! It's bitter rain and dull pain
waging war within you as you try to find yourself in this entanglement of emotion that threatens to
defy everything you thought you knew. I ache, my entire body aches with emptiness and pain and I
miss him even more now. I want Beau back. I want him back so I can tell him I love him.
Work, school, music and even the classroom I'm now seated in seems so lacklustre, so dead without
him and I find that not even Laura with her outrageous comments can draw me out. Everything
seems so dull and distant to me and I'm beginning to hate all the time I seem to have to brood and
think about him. No matter what I do, he always seems to dominate my thoughts and I swear, I'm
going mad.
Time passes me by in a daze of events I neither notice nor register; vague movement just beyond
the spectrum of my own reality. I'm drawn into myself, into the confusion, the turmoil and the
longing for that which I cannot have. Beau will never truly be mine, not as long as Mattie remains
deep in his heart. Not as long as his issues with Mattie and his past remain unresolved and so I'm
destined to wallow in limbo, in my own rather pitiful state of longing when there should be joy. In
my own lacklustre world where time, life and all that surrounds me no longer seems to hold
meaning to me due to my rather narrow minded focus upon that which I already know can never
truly be mine.
The bell doth toll, or should I say the bell signalling the end of the school day finally rings? I'm now
free to spend the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and focusing on that which has replaced my
father in my life, my new crisis, namely Beau. I'm free to go make a fool of myself by drowning in
fear. Yes, I'm filled with fear, fear of rejection, fear of pain and fear of remaining where I currently
find myself.
I hurry towards the exit, having nothing to remain here for after all and only make it a few steps
past the threshold to freedom when I stop dead in my tracks, my breath hitching in my throat and
my eyes wide in shock. The reason for all my turmoil is standing here before me, or more
specifically, leaning against a wall, cigarette dangling from his lips. "So, have you thought about my
offer?" He drawls his eyes cold as ever.

Twisted web
"So have you thought about my offer?" He drawls his eyes as cold as ever. Zachariah is here before
me, tempting me with what he knows. I shouldn't, I really should not be doing this. Not to Beau, not
to myself but I can't help myself. I'm hurting, deep inside. I am empty, lost and in pain and have no
way of reaching out towards Beau. The distance between us... the canyon seems impossible to
breach... filled with secrets, lies and Mattie, always Mattie.
I eye Zachariah for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch between us and shiver at the ice within
his gaze. His gaze is cold and distant, empty. Everything about him seems to scream danger yet
irrevocably I am drawn to him, drawn to the knowledge he possesses and drawn to the secret behind
Beau and Mattie. I nod in agreement, a single gesture, simple, impulsive yet one that will change
my life forever. I can't go back, can't change my mind and with it I guess I have sealed my fate.
He draws up and away from the wall, casually flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Don't say much, I
see." He drawls, stretching and drawing the tension that hangs between us out. "No matter. Let's get
going." Going? Hold on a minute where are we going? Where is he going to take me? Suddenly I'm
not all that certain. Curiosity or not, this can't be good. "Well?" He has paused and is now raising a
questioning eyebrow at me. "You coming or not? You realise that this is your last chance to find out
what I know? I won't come looking for you again." I shouldn't, I really should not be going but he
said it's the last chance and Beau refuses to tell me what he is hiding. Before I can even think to
stop myself, I run after him, ignoring the warnings I can still here ringing in my head.
He took me to a coffee shop! Well, at least it's in a public place. He can't do anything to me here,
can he? I am safe here, right? We are in public, right? It's going to be ok. We're only going to talk.
Okay, so hopefully he will do the talking and I on occasion will do a little writing. Since Alex, I've
taken to carrying a notepad and pen around. Strangely enough, recently, I actually want to be
understood. "I suppose you want to know about Evan, Mattie and Beau." Zachariah drawls, his
teaspoon ringing rhythmically across the ceramic cup as he stirs. My apprehension keeps rising. He
knows why I'm here. I mean, he's the one that tempted me with this information in the first place, so
why is he asking? I get the feeling he's playing with me like a predator playing with its prey. I don't
like the feeling; don't like the realisation that I'm the prey.
I stare into my own cup for a moment, lost in thought, lost in apprehension before glancing up once
more to meet his gaze. I nod, give him the affirmative he's obviously looking for and wait for the
inevitable. His lips quirk into a smile sending chills down my back. I don't that smile or the way he's
watching me, reaching out towards me, brushing his fingers over my hands where they are clutched
around my tea. Why can he not keep his hands to himself? "I'm really sorry about this. I hate to be
the one to tell you this but it's something you have to know. My brother died because of Beau." His
face twists and for but a moment I can see the bitterness upon it. Zachariah truly believes that Beau
killed his brother.
It takes an awkward moment for Zachariah to regain composure once more before speaking once
again. "I'm not sure exactly where I should start but I guess I should give you an idea of how things
were before Beau came into Matthew's life." Thankfully he withdraws his hands and they are once
again on his side of the table. I take a nervous sip of my tea, trying not to think about what he's
about to tell me. I'm filled with apprehension, so much so that it's making me sick to the stomach
and suddenly I don't know if I want to hear this at all. It's going to hurt. "Matthew was always
popular. Everyone wanted to be like him, be with him, but he kept a close circle of friends. Evan
and Ged. I never quite understood it you know." He pauses reaching for a cigarette.
I watch him move, watch the flame flicker in his hand and die with an abrupt click, red ash burning
at his lips. The smoke drifts slowly into the air. It's all so surreal, almost like a dream yet at the same
time far too real. So Evan was Mattie's friend. I guess it makes sense. He blows the smoke out of his
lip and flicks his hand, giving me time to take another nervous sip of the steaming liquid in my
hands. It tastes a bit strange but I ignore it. My stomach is churning and I think I'm going to be sick
any minute now. "Evan was in love with Mattie." Zachariah's lips twist into a harsh smile and his
words echo through my being. Evan, Mattie, Beau… When did this get so complicated?
"Evan was in love with Mattie, but Matthew, well, he was a little oblivious to it. It was obvious to
everyone else, only he never saw it. Evan tried so hard to gain Mattie's attention." I watch Zachariah
flick some ash into an ashtray, his every movement amplified to my senses, my emotions in turmoil,
my mind desperate for something to focus on, something to dampen the raging conflict deep within
me. "Matthew was always blind to the truth right before his eyes, I guess. Never even suspected that
his own perfect little life could be anything less than perfect." His smile is cruel, and suddenly I feel
fear course right through me. "It took a lot to get Mattie to see something, so Evan and I came up
with a plan. I mean, I couldn't leave the poor boy pining away like that."
A plan? This is not going to be good. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this. I have a feeling I
really don't want to know what he's going to say next. "We decided to pretend that we were dating,
to make Matthew jealous mind you. The perfect plan, don't you think? You never know what you
have until you lose it, right? So the plan was that Evan and I would pretend to date in order to draw
Matthew's attention to Evan. Only thing is…" Damn him! The pause! He's toying with me, drawing
this out as he smokes his cigarette, pausing at crucial moments when he knows the tension within
me is threatening to snap me in half. Only thing is what?!
"Only thing is Mattie started to act strange about the time Evan and I started to date." So Evan dated
Zach? This is starting to get confusing. Evan? Mattie? Beau? Zach and me? "At first, we thought it
was working. We thought Matthew was jealous and consequently had taken to avoiding Evan,
spending less and less time with him, as it were. Evan was overjoyed. It was the reaction he was
looking for. It was subtle at first, a slow shift in the relationship and I have to admit, Evan and I did
get carried away. A little too carried away. We let it go on for months and sometimes it didn't even
feel fake. It really didn't feel fake." His voice dies and I can see he is lost in thought. He almost
looks sad, lonely, lost? A moment ago I could feel my fear rising from his smile alone and now he
simply looks lost. When did things get so complicated? For all of us?
"But why am I telling you this?" He shifts and scowls at me and I can feel the menace return. He's
not stable and something in his manner, a subtle shift in the way he moves reminds me of my father.
"He dumped me. The moment he found out Matthew was dating Beau, Evan dumped me." His is
filled with anger and bitterness and suddenly I realise that he loved Evan. Zachariah loved Evan.
Oh, shit. What did I just get myself into? "Needless to say, Evan was devastated. So he decided to
tell the football team that Matthew was gay. Being jocks and all, I heard that they didn't take it well.
It's only to be expected. They did shower with him, after all." Zach draws an extra long drag of his
cigarette leaving me to wait once more as he slowly blows it out. His words echo in my mind and I
can feel horror rise up within me. I actually feel sorry for him. I actually feel sorry for Mattie. Sorry,
conflicted and giddy all at once.
"Matthew came home a little beat up that day. He was angry, hurt and humiliated. He wouldn't
speak to me but Evan told me what happened. He told me Matthew denied being gay, told me
Matthew had told the jocks that he dated Beau to screw with him. He told me Beau was there. Evan
was so happy. Beau had run away and he was certain Matthew and Beau would never be together
again. He was certain Matthew would finally be his. Only it didn't quite turn out that way."
Silence, a moment, an eternity, everything slipping past me in slow motion, from a distance, the
slow drift of smoke, the slow repeat of every word Zachariah said in my mind, slipping by me,
dancing before me, just barely before my grasp. Why do I feel so giddy? So foggy? So… so slow?
"Matthew died, two days later, coming home from Beau's place." The words hurt. They are so bitter,
so angry, so violent, each one flying at me like a bullet. Hold on, wait a minute, Beau's place? He
told me it was a party… going home from a party. He told me Mattie argued with his friends over
what happened, stormed out and died driving home from that party? It doesn't make sense. Why?
WhyThe words echo through my mind, around and around and around. Why does it not make any
sense? Why is Zach's story so different? Why did Beau lie to me? Damn, I'm giddy.
"They say he was drunk." He's whispering? Why is Zach leaning in towards me? Whispering?
Shifting before my gaze? "Only Mattie never drank, so Beau must have done something to him.
Drugged him perhaps?" He's dancing, his features are swimming before my gaze and I swear… this
feeling… this feeling is so very familiar. His words are distorted, slow, each syllable echoing
through my mind. "Juuus…t…. as…. I…" I'm frowning, desperately reading his lips, trying to
make sense… make sense of the distorted syllables in my mind. "haaa…ve… druuuuu…. gged…
youuuuu." Oh shit!
Shatter.
The sound of breaking ceramics echoes through my ears as my cup slips through my numb
fingertips.

My life in Technicolor
The strange thing about drugs is they warp your perception, completely. One moment everything
will blur and fade and the next it will be sharper and clearer than you could ever imagine. I heard,
drugs affect different people in different ways. I don't know how true that is. All I know is what they
do to me.
I shouldn't have come. I should've known better than to assume that the person that had hurt Layla
so would do nothing to me. But what's done is done, and there's no use dwelling on what I cannot
change. I am trapped in a mixture of illusion and reality, his voice echoing through my mind. "I'm
sorry. Seems my partner is feeling ill. Here, I'll pay for the broken cup. I'll take him home. I truly
apologise for the inconvenience." He's speaking to a shadow I can see out of the corner of my eye, a
shadow the shifts and drifts just beyond my awareness as I battle the giddiness within me and my
encroaching nightmares. As I've already told you, there's a reason I never really got into drugs.
I can see the memories of blood, that my life has imprinted upon my mind, begin to gather and shift.
I know what's coming. I know what's going to happen next yet for some reason, I can't make myself
care. I am giddy, unnaturally happy as my nightmares threaten to take possession of my mind.
Silver flashes in my mind and I flinch away from the blade, away from the pureness of the white
gleam upon it only to be faced with a dark stain. The bright shine is now dulled, coloured with a
mixture of bright red and deep maroon and a hollow scream of pain resounds in my mind. She is
dying again it hurts so damned much.
My chest is once again constricting upon me, impaling me with slivers of sharp pain and I can
almost feel each thrust of the blood stained blade. He's thrusting over and over again and the blood
splays onto his skin, staining it in splatters of red. Every detail is clear, full of bright fresh colour,
alive and fresh in my mind, the texture of her skin, the scream of death upon her face, her hollow
eyes and the insanity in his. I can feel my soul shatter with every plunge of the blade into her body.
It's not possible. How can it be possible for something to break over and over again, yet it is… my
soul… over and over again.
I'm silently screaming in agony, the giddiness and euphoria now gone, replaced by terror, by
insanity and death. They are dying in my mind, each and every one of them, over and over again
and I have front row seats to the horror of my reality playing before me, over and over again like a
film set to loop, drowning me in memories I've fought a lifetime to suppress, memories he kept
adding to. Let me die, please, someone, just let me die so that this reel may end, and this sight
before my eyes may fade.
I'm lost a sea of memory, lost to reality and sanity slips slowly away, inch by inch, drifting floating,
slipping through my desperate grasp. Please, I beg you, please let this nightmare end. Let me find
peace in oblivion, so that I may finally find some form of release, relief and reprise. "Let's go for a
drive." His voice cuts into the delusions of my mind and fills my body with adrenaline, a rush of
hormones shoving the effects of the drug aside and ripping me back into reality.
I'm in danger. He's going to hurt me if I don't do anything about it. Zach is going to hurt me because
he wants to hurt Beau. Shit! Run, get away, flee, I must escape before he breaks me, before he uses
me to break Beau. I can feel it, his touch around my shoulders, coaxing me forward towards his car
and I stumble over my own feet. I'm panting, my ragged breath harsh in my ears but I can't think
about it now. I can't let my panic stop me, bind me, keep me place. I have to escape!
I can see the insanity and grief in his eyes. It's the same as the emotion in my father's eyes and I
know he intends to hurt me. I can't let him win because then he, my father, will also win. All of this,
everything I have recently fought for, would be for nothing. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. I'll
take care of both of us. I'll even let you drive." Let me drive? But I don't know how? I don't want to.
I don't want to go with him, don't want to talk to him, see him or hear him. Now if only I could
think straight, if only I could get my body to obey me, to run...
I'm soaked in my own sweat, the rush of my own blood roaring in my ears. My breath is so very
ragged, so painful but it doesn't matter. This is my last chance and I can't, I won't let someone hurt
me again! Grabbing onto the adrenaline that sings in my blood I move, blind to my own
movements, blind to my own actions, knowing only that I am finally running, the slap, slap, slap, of
my hurried footsteps the rhythm to which my heart now dances. Escape, escape, escape, escape.
Don't look back. Run as fast as you can. Turn, dodge, jump, run!
I run, my body settling into the rhythm of flight, my mind lost to all reason. A blur of colour rushes
past me, shape, form and meaning forgotten, irrelevant. Slap, slap, slap, breathe, gasp for air,
precious fuel to spur me on, forward, ever forward towards some unknown, imagined sanctuary,
towards hoped for safety. I have to run. Faster!
Sharp pain courses through my body, my momentum stunted and my balance thrown. I'm tripping
over some unseen object and I no longer have any traction beneath my fleeing feet. Searing pain
cuts into my skin and then a moment of nothing. No pain, no thought, no life, no breath, a moment
followed the rush of reality. My body aches, dull throbs of pain warning me of some unknown
injury, nothing more than a hindrance to be ignored. My breath is ragged, loud and torn. I need to
calm it. I need to be quiet, need to hide so that he won't find me. I have to hold my breath, ignoring
the body that screams for breath because breath will bring about betrayal.
A scuff, movement, clatter followed by a pause. He's here, standing a few steps to my right,
searching for me. My hand flies to my lips and I press it against my mouth in a desperate attempt to
keep my breath still. I need to breathe. I'm dying, suffocating, my whole body silently screaming in
agony, begging, pleading for oxygen, yet I continue to deny it. He'll hear me if I breathe.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
…
…
…
A minute, a minute and a half of sheer agony and then he's gone, slipping passed my hiding place
and into what to me remains unknown. I don't care where he's gone. All I care about is that he's left
me behind and I pray that he won't come back. Oh please, please don't let him come back. The fear
within me is still thick and my heart is raging, beating furiously as it continues to pump the
adrenaline through my blood. I'm scared, terrified and I want to cry. I want to weep as hopelessness,
regret and grief course through me. I want him to know. I need to tell him. Just in case I get caught.
In case I die.
I'm trembling violently and it makes it difficult to dial. The keys on my phone, more than adequate
before, are now far too small and I keep fumbling over the pad. What if he's coming back? What if
he finds me? I don't have time for this. My face is wet, tears of frustration, fear and shock coursing
down it. My chest hurts. It feels like my heart is going to pound its way through, cut its way out and
leave me breathless and in pain. Why won't the bloody phone Dial! Dial already! Please, please, oh
please, oh please… Dial already.
…
Got it!
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Answer… Answer… oh please answer.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Please, I'm begging you… answer. I need you to… Answer!
Ring.
Ri…. Click… "Hello?"
A sob escapes my throat. I can't help it. I'm scared… I need to hear his voice. I desperately need to
tell him so that if something happens to me, he'll know. "B… B… Beau?" I stumble over the simple
syllables that comprise his name but I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. It does not matter that I
can barely speak. I need to tell him and he's not here to see me sign.
"Dimitri?"
He sounds so surprised that I start to giggle, a note of hysteria in my voice. I finally managed to
shock Beau. "I… I… I… Lo… Lou… vvv…. Yo…uuu." There, I said it. Giggle. There, I finally
said it. I told him I love him, only now I'm laughing, crying and losing myself completely. I miss
him so much it physically aches and I want to see him one last time.
I can hear only silence from his side while mine is filled with painful ragged sobs intermingled with
the giggles of an insane man. I'm losing myself to the drug, to my fear and to the nightmares in my
own mind but I no longer care. Beau knows. I finally told him. He knows I love him and I hope that
he will treasure that emotion for always.
"Dimitri? What's wrong?! Breathe, Dimitri! What happened? Where are you?" The silence on his
side is torn asunder by the panic in his voice. He's scared, panicked and desperate, each emotion
echoing those within me, but at least he's not crazy, driven mad by nightmares that refuse to let me
be.
"Z….Z….Zach…." Each word is a glorious, painful effort. I told him I love him and I finally broke
the silence between us. Far too late for my liking but I don't care. I love him with all my heart and
now he knows.
"Zach? Dimitri, what did the bastard do to you? Where are you? Are you alright? I'll kill him. I
swear, I'll kill him." I giggle. I know this is no laughing matter but I can't help it. I have told him I
love him and something within me is now finally free. The adrenaline in my blood is fading and I
can feel the effects of the drugs once more. Can feel the edge of euphoria and see the edge of my
nightmares.
"B….Beau… I…. I…. Loooovu……. Yo…uuuu." I want to say it… again and again and again. I
wish I could say it properly. I wish I could kiss him, perhaps hold him one last time. I wish he was
here. I wish I was safe, at home, in his arms.
"Where are you, Dimitri? Please, don't do this to me, not now. Where are you? Dimitri, where?" His
voice is so panicked, so desperate and it pains me to hear the fear and grief in it. Yet, the pain is
distant, dulled by the euphoria now clouding my mind, dulled by the fog that makes it hard for me
to think… to focus...
"I…. I…. Donnn'ttt…. Knoooooow." I can't help him. I can't help relieve the panic and fear in his
voice because it's far, far too late, far too late for him, far too late for me.
"Dimitri! Dimitri… Dim…" His voice fades as the phone slips through my fingers and clatters to
the ground, fades as nightmare and darkness once again take over my mind.

The pain in truth

I can feel warmth and strength around me, a sure stride, confidence and anger. He's fuming, yet at
the same time his grip around me is gentle. I wonder who he is. The last coherent thing I remember
is the rough stinging pain, the fear and the phone call. I called Beau and I told him I loved him.
Zach was looking for me, only this is not Zach. This touch holds faint familiarity, accompanied by a
subtle scent that reminds me of someone. No, it's not Beau, only, now that I think about it… that's
who it reminds me of. This warm, strong, gentle touch reminds me of Beau and suddenly my heart
aches. I miss Beau.
"Kia, you found him!" I can hear Beau's voice and suddenly I know in whose arms it is that I lie.
Kia's touch and his scent reminds me of Beau and suddenly it all makes sense. I want to see him. I
want to see Beau's bright sparkling eyes but I'm tired and my eyes are heavy. "Is he okay? What did
the bastard do to him? I'll kill him! I swear I'll kill Zach if he hurt him. Kia, did he… is he…"
"Calm down, Beau. He's okay. A little drugged, scraped and bruised but okay. Zach wasn't with him.
We found him in some trash. If not for Sadie, I think we would've missed him entirely. She has a
good nose so be sure to buy her a nice big bone. You owe her big time." I can hear a slight tone of
teasing in Kia's tone, hiding the raging anger I can feel given away by the tension in his body. He
shifts me in his arms. He's moving me, away from the solid warmth of his chest, away from his
rather subtle scent and suddenly I'm surrounded by Beau's scent, Beau's warmth and Beau's touch.
Relief and joy course through me, emotion I have no control over, emotion that roars through me
and makes me want to live.
Beau is moving, cradling me gently as he takes a few steps up. He's climbing a staircase and I
finally win my battle against the lethargy deep within me. His eyes are such a bright green, filled
with relief, filled with grief and filled with the essence of life itself. I love him, those green eyes and
those crazy pink and purple streaks. "Hey." I love the low timbre of his voice, love the way it travels
through his chest and consequently through me.
'Hey.' I sign carefully, shifting but a fraction. I want his touch, crave it and have no intention of
moving out of his arms. He pauses and I hear his bedroom door shuffle open only to slam shut after
he has stepped in. He's watching me, eyes filled with intensity and emotion…
"I was so scared." He whispers, and I can feel the warmth of his breath upon my skin. He's so close
to me, holding me, cradling me and watching me. "When you phoned I was terrified. I thought he
was going to hurt you. I thought I was going to lose you." He's chocking on hidden tears and the
grief I hear in his voice makes me want to cry. "Why, Dimitri? Why were you even with him?"
The silence that follows his question is filled with pain, grief and disappointment. He shifts, places
me gently onto his bed and suddenly I'm bereft of his touch. He's sitting beside me, leaning over me
and the pain I can see on his face fills me with shame forcing me to look away. I betrayed him, and
that betrayal hurts so very much. 'I… I…' My hands are shaking, as I try to explain myself. How
can I even begin to explain myself when there's no acceptable explanation for what I've done? 'I
wanted to know about Mattie.'
"Mattie? But I told you about Mattie." I can hear the confusion in his voice. I can feel the heat
radiating from his body, can feel his proximity and even though he's not longer touching me, can
feel his touch, lingering upon my skin.
'What you told me didn't make sense.' My hands fly through the air, my humiliation, confusion and
pain bringing a lump to my throat. This confrontation hurts but I still want to know the truth. I want
the story to make sense. I want Beau to let go of Mattie's ghost.
"Dimitri. Look at me." His voice is soft and I'm compelled to obey. I fight it though. I fight the urge
to give in to his coaxing tone. "Look at me." Bright green, his bright green eyes are filled with so
much confusion. "What do you mean it didn't make sense?"
'Mattie… it… it didn't make sense. No one dates someone for six months as a joke. It's not worth
the effort.' I can feel tears in the corners of my eyes. Salty liquid gathering, demanding release I
cannot grant it. 'Zach… he… he said he would tell me the truth. I thought it would make more sense
if I listened to what he had to say and it does.' The agitation in my hands increases as I continue to
speak. I want Beau to understand. 'He loved you, Beau. It wasn't a joke. He really loved you. He
only said those things to his friends because Evan told them he was gay and he… and Mattie was
scared. He loved you.'
What is it about me and silence? Each moment unique, each moment of silence different, yet,
equally important. It says so little, yet at the same time can say so much. The silence that hangs
between us now is the calm before the storm. "I know." Heat, touch, skin and the sweet scent of
musk. Beau is leaning on me, his face buried in my shoulder and his voice is muffled as he speaks.
"I know, Dimitri." His voice is trembling, shaking almost as much as my hands, his words rough,
ragged and torn. "He came to see me. Mattie came to see me the day he died. He came to apologise,
only he was dead drunk."
I'm finally faced with the truth and suddenly I don't want to know anymore. I'm hurting Beau and I
want it to stop. I want this cycle of pain in my life to stop. I'm sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of
hurting myself and sick and tired of hurting him, the one I love with all my heart. I wrap my arms
around him and hold him close to my heart. Stop. "He told me he loved me. He apologised for
hurting me, for saying those things to his friends. He said he was afraid of being rejected by his
friends because he was gay. He begged me to forgive him only I was angry. I was so hurt and angry
and I hated him for doing that to me, for doing that to us and I refused to take him back. I needed
time to deal with the pain. He got angry. He was drunk. He wasn't thinking straight and he got so
angry. He grabbed me and started to kiss me, touch me. I was scared. For the first time in my life I
was scared of my boyfriend. I pushed him away and told him to get the hell out of my life."
He gives a painful pause and I swear I can see what's coming next. "It's my fault, Dimitri. He didn't
die driving home from that party. After arguing with his friends, he came to see me, came to
apologise and I rejected him. He… Mattie… Mattie died driving away from my place. It's my fault
he died. I should've forgiven him. I should've let him sleep with me. I should've taken him back that
day or at least made him stay till he was sober." Oh Beau, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for
prying, for going to Zach and for renewing this pain and guilt.
Unable to vocalise my regret I simply hold him in my arms as the truth finally rests between us. The
truth behind Beau and Mattie fills me with melancholy and regret. I love him. I love him so much
and it pains me to see him blame himself for something that isn't his fault. "N…Not." I need to
speak, need to use my voice. He's not looking at me and I… I selfishly want to hold him but a
moment longer. "N… not yo…urrr…. Ffffffooooolt." My words shake, my voice trembles and I
swear, I'm going to die from embarrassment but I want him to know.
He draws away from me and I can feel the shock in his body, can see it upon his face as he stares at
me, eyes wide, lips parted just a little. Once again I have managed to shock him and am now the
centre of his attention. Finally free to sign, knowing he will see me now, I continue, resorting to the
method of communication that's easiest to me. 'Mattie's death is as much your fault as my mother's
is mine. You keep telling me me I couldn't control my father. That he did what he did of his own
free will. Well, you couldn't control Matt. He hurt you. He's the one that hurt you and he should've
given you time. He's the one that drank that day and he's the one that chose to drive. He did it of his
own free will. It was an accident. He loved you. Remember that he loved you and that you loved
him. Leave the blame. It doesn't matter. Leave the blame and live your life.'
He's staring at me in shock, searching my face and I'm tempted to look away. I don't. I can't look
away when I want him to understand, so I meet his gaze and we are once again embraced by my
most familiar lover: silence. "Say it." His voice, but a whisper, resonates through me, stirring the
well of emotion that I no longer have any control over, up. What does he want me to say? I am
confused, overwhelmed and overpowered by the sheer intensity of our emotions. "Say my name. I
want to hear it. I want to hear you say my name. I want you to tell me what you told me over the
phone. Please, Dimitri, say it."
My throat is dry and I can feel the sting of every scratch upon my skin, the dull throb of pain in my
hip and my dry ragged breath. I'm so very much alive. Every nerve in my body is alive and I can
feel him, can feel the heat of his body, the silky softness of his skin and the moist warmth of his
breath, drifting, drifting slowly over my skin. I… I…um… "B….B…. Beau… I…. I… Llllllllov….
Youuuuu.”

Demons
Beth was furious when I got home. She was so angry that she grounded me. For the first time in my
life I'm actually grounded for the next two weeks. I'm only allowed to go to school and work and
then have to come straight back home again. She was upset that I went to go visit Beau and never
bothered to let her know where I was. Kia and I told her Beau came for a surprise visit and I forgot
to call home to tell her I'm with him. Even though it's a lie and it got me grounded I still think it's
far better than the truth. Beth doesn't need to know that I got kidnapped and nearly killed. The lie is
far kinder… on both of us.
Kia tried to get Beth to lighten my punishment but she was adamant and when he moved to tell her
the truth it was my turn to be adamant. I don't mind being grounded. Beau has to go back to
university and I don't know the meaning of the words social life never mind actually being in
possession of one and if it makes Beth feel better, I'm okay with it. I don't mind being grounded by
why now?! Why does Murphy always choose the most inopportune times to interfere with my life?!
The only thing that bothers me is that I won't be able to see Beau before he leaves because of this. It
bothers me so much that the very thought is eating away at me and I just can't seem to sit still.
"Dimitri!" I can hear Beth call up to me, her voice spurring me into action. I need to move and right
now any excuse is a good excuse to move when your stomach is tying itself up in knots. I run down
the stairs nearly tripping over Lilac and skid to a halt, breathless, literally. My breath has caught in
my throat and my eyes are wide in sheer disbelief. "Kia needs to speak to you." Her words and the
puzzled tone with which she says them barely register upon my mind.
He's here. Beau is here. I can see him before he leaves. I can say goodbye. I take a few steps
forward, fully intending to run into his arms only I don't get that far. A gentle touch upon my arm
stems my movement and I look up to meet Beth's worried gaze. "Kia says he needs to speak to you
in private. I don't know what this is about…" She pauses and her gaze seems to flicker towards Kia
in accusation. "But if you want to talk, I'll be back in an hour. I need to go pick some things up."
Something in her words and the way she looks at Kia tells me that there's more to this than meets
the eye but for now all I can do is nod and accept my fate. Besides, I get to see Beau.
Beth leans down and drops a kiss onto my forehead before heading to the front door at a rapid pace.
Kia is on the receiving end of a very cold look from her. So cold that even I can feel a shiver
running down my spine. The door clicks closed and the sound echoes in the silence left by Beth's
departure. Silence. My life seems to be filled with it. Silence of every form and nature surrounding
me, embracing me like an unwanted lost lover, over and over and over again.
The silence dies a slow death to the soft ruffle of papers and the scrape of a chair being dragged
across the kitchen floor. Kia sits down and motions to the seat across from him, paging through
some papers in his hands. I take a step forward and stop, my throat thick and my heart filled with
reluctance. Something tells me that I'm not going to like this and I long to run after Beth, to bring
her back so I can use her as a shield against this confrontation that seems to be preparing itself for
me. Beau takes a few steps forward and places his arm around my shoulders. He guides me forward
whispering a few nonsensical words of comfort. They mean nothing to me because I… I don't know
why but I… I feel like a prisoner walking towards his execution.
Kia begins to speak the moment I'm seated, Beau beside me. "I have some papers here that I need
you to sign and fill out if we're to press charges." He slides the papers across the kitchen table and
watches me expectantly.
'Charges?' I sign in confusion, hoping someone will explain to me what on earth is going on. Kia
has officially lost me. What charges? Haven't the charges against my father already been filed? I
mean, it was a federal matter after all and I did not exactly have a say. Kia won't even let me attend
the trial that's been going on for over half a year already. The only time he gave me permission to
go was to testify and that's an experience I most certainly do not want to repeat. Why does he want
me to press charges now?!
"We're filing kidnapping and assault charges against Zachariah." Kia's tone is far too clipped and
professional for my liking. His words hit me like a ton of bricks I quite literally did not see coming.
He wants to press charges against Zach?
No way! I am not pressing charges against Zach. I'm not going through that again. I'm not willing to
have the deepest and most private parts of my soul exposed just to give some vulture the chance to
tear them apart all over again. 'No!' I sign adamantly.
"No?!" Beau exclaims standing and staring at me in clear disbelief. It's written all over his face, in
his eyes, his lips and upon his forehead. "What do you mean no?" I'm hurting Beau but for what
little sanity I still possess and the few pieces of my soul that still remain I will not change my mind.
I can't press charges against Zach. I cannot go through that again. The questions, the derision, the
disbelief and most of all the blame. The lawyers will look for a way to blame me. I can't do it again.
It will kill me.
'No. I'm not pressing charges against Zach.' I sign slowly, in an attempt to draw out and clarify each
and every single word in the hopes of making them understand. I know they won't. They can't. They
know not my mind, my soul and the shattered remains that reside there.
"How can you refuse to press charges, Dimitri?!" Beau exclaims and I wince at the volume of his
voice. Beau is angry with me and there's nothing I can do about it.
'I just can't'. Essentially, I'm a coward and it's fear that drives me forward. The thing that scares me
the most about Zach is that he reminds me of me. Zach reminds me of all the pain I buried deep
within me, all the sins I inadvertently committed for fear of seeing the truth and the grief of loss. I
can't press charges against him because to me it would be like pressing charges against myself.
"What do you mean you can't?" Beau slams his hand down and I flinch in fear of the violence, the
anger and the disappointment on his face. "He tried to kill you, Dimitri! What do you mean you
can't press charges! He's a sick man! He needs to be locked up! He kidnapped you and tried to kill
you! Don't you get that?! He hurt Layla!" And so we get to the core of his pain. Beau is scared of
Zach and the demons that Zach awoke in his own heart. He's terrified and he wants to make it better
but he can't. You can't run from inner demons. You cannot purge your very soul of them with anger
and hatred. You need to face them, need to overcome them and that's the problem.
I've been running from my own demons for so long, trying to blame my father, my mother for
leaving me and myself. Blame doesn't help. In the end, it's simply an excuse to keep running and it's
Beau who showed me that, in so many subtle ways. I can't keep running from my demons. They are
pieces of string, tied to my very soul and no matter how fast, how far or how hard I run, they will
simple drift in the wind behind me, waiting for me to tire. I'm terrified and all I ask is that you
please, please, let me face one demon at a time. I can't press charges against Zach when his soul
seems to be the very mirror image of mine.
'He reminds me…' My hands shake and I have to pause, fear of rejection causing my soul to shrivel
and shrink. He won't understand. Zach hurt his sister and Beau won't understand why I… 'He
reminds me…' I start again, once more to pause, unable to say it, afraid to say it, afraid of his
reaction. 'He reminds me of myself.' It's free, another of my demons is free, drifting in the silence
that hangs between Beau and I, facing me and I can no longer deny its presence.
"Well, I guess there's nothing more to say." I blink in surprise when the silence is broken by Kia's
voice and the sound of shuffling papers. He's gathering them up, blank pages of paper that seem to
taunt me with the chance that I've lost. Blank pieces of paper that taunt me with the pain I've just
inflicted upon Beau. Kia stands and without another word, slips out of the kitchen leaving me alone
to face the consequences of my decision.
"Why?" His voice is hoarse and my heart shatters at the sound. A single word, just a single word to
resound through my soul and echo the true impact of what I've just done.
'Because he's hurt.' I sign, carefully watching his face. 'I see my sins in his eyes. I see the broken
pieces and it hurts.'
"He's nothing like you!" Beau protests, each consecutive word rising in volume, in conviction. It's
almost as if he's trying to convince himself and not me. It hurts so much to see him like this. I
remain silent. I have nothing to say. If he doesn't wish to see, I can't see for him. He sighs in
frustration and tears at his hair, making me wince at the imagined pain of it all. He's hurting so
much right now and all I can do is watch, from the sidelines, and pray for forgiveness.
His arms drop and he looks up at me… locks his gaze upon mine and I swear, an eternity passes me
by as I wait for him, only to fight back a desperate sob of relief when I once again find myself in his
arms embraced by warmth, comfort and perhaps a touch of forgiveness. "I love you, Dimitri." He
whispers, his words soft and torn. "But I really don't understand you. I honestly don't understand but
it's ok. I love you.”

Change and consequence

Beau left not long after that awkward confrontation. He's no longer mad at me but seemed rather
sad. Zach is a sensitive subject and I can understand why he feels the way that he does but I can't
face another trial, another ruined life and more grief. Zach… he… he didn't hurt me and I'm sick of
it all. I'm sick of my father's trial, looming over me for months on end, sick of the newspaper and
magazine articles, sick of the grief and pain and most of all sick of feeling inadequate. I'm tired of
being broken again and again. It's been nearly a year since all this chaos began and still I cannot live
my life. I can't let my past go and move forward until some kind of resolution has been brought
forth and I'm sick of it.
"You're doing very well, Dimitri." A warm voice breaks me from my thoughts and I can't help but
give Evelyn, my speech therapist, a tight smile. I'm still going to therapy. It's become a part of my
life now, routine and I no longer think it strange or awkward. It's simply something that I have to
do. Like school and work. Although I'm still at odds with my psychologist I rather like my speech
therapist. Both my psychologist and speech therapist are women. Apparently it has something to do
with me being psychologically scarred by a male figure in my life and consequently feeling more at
ease with the female gender. I eavesdropped on my psychologist, so sue me. I think it's a bunch of
bullshit but who am I to argue?
"Th… Thank you." I state softly, the words coming with ever greater ease. I never thought
something like speech could be so hard. I took it for granted for so long. My silence, I always
thought I would be able to break it any time I wished, always thought that my voice would be there
for me and when it wasn't… I… it shocked me to the core. My father took it from me. My father
stole my voice and I let him. I let my father steal my voice, my heart, my tears, my soul and my
very humanity and I was too blind to see it.
I blink in surprised when Evelyn moves to kneel before me, glancing up at me, concern in her gaze.
"You have a beautiful voice, Dimitri. You really should use it and not only here." Her hands are
warm and gentle upon my knees and her pale blond hair seems to drift in the air before me. It's
strange… the random things I notice now that I'm actually willing to see the world around me.
Evelyn is actually quite pretty if I think about it. Small, petite, with pale blue eyes and a beauty spot
beneath the right side of her lip. "Dimitri?" She prompts and I drop my gaze knowing I'm caught.
I was trying to avoid it, the silent question in her statement. I was trying to run away from it in the
hopes that she would drop it and leave it be but… "I… It's h… hard." I whisper, fighting to ignore
the shame deep within me. I hate the weakness of my voice and the sheer effort that goes into every
word that I speak. It's supposed to be so easy, supposed to be something one is capable of doing
without a moment's thought but it's not for me. It is not easy and I hate it.
"I know Dimitri but you're doing so much better now." Her hands begin to move, slowly shifting in
soothing circles upon my knee and I look up in surprise. Wha… Why is she…? As I meet her gaze
and the concern I can clearly see within it I begin to suspect that she's not even aware of the
movement, her brow furrowed in concentration, her words careful. "It'll get easier if you practice. I
know it's scary so why don't you practice with your family, your friends. Don't you have something
special you want to say to them? To any of them?"
Something special to say… I… I already told him. I already told Beau that I love him and even
though my words were torn, ragged and more than a little incomprehensible it felt… it was good.
Beau looked so happy. Just a few words from me could make him that happy. It truly does bear
thinking about, I guess. Saying something special to someone special, someone who will not laugh
at me, will wait for me and will smile like that when I whisper a few broken words. Yes, I think that
maybe I'll practice a little with Beau. Only Beau.
"S… something s… special…" I agree with a whisper, watching the smile upon her face.
Someday.
***
"Kevin apologised to me." Laura's rather blunt statement sends me into near cardiac arrest. The food
I'm currently eating goes down the wrong pipe and tries to commit murder via choking. Kevin did
what?! I cough forcefully finally managing to clear my throat enough to allow me a more dignified
response. More specifically, gaping at Laura like a fish out of water. It can't be possible. I must have
misheard. It absolutely can't be remotely possible!
"What for?" Alex questions in confusion, finding his voice before I find mine, which, no offence, is
not rocket science and definitely not all that hard to do but that's beside the point. It seems I have
hearing difficulty to add to my already too long list of clinical depression, mental instability and
speech difficulty. I'm hearing things. I could have sword Laura said…
"I've no idea." Laura continues to eat, oh so calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on. We
could be talking about a bomb lying beside us, about to go off she would be calm and collected as
ever. Typical Laura. The only time I've ever seen her emotional was at the hospital with Alex.
"Let me see if I have this right." Alex states each and every word carefully and slowly spoken.
"Kevin, the guy that you blackmailed into leaving us alone, apologised to you?" There it goes, my
hearing, all wonky and wrong. I mean, seriously, Alex and Laura can't possibly be saying… or
maybe it's a different Kevin, one that I still have yet to meet which would explain this conversation
and my confusion.
"Who's Kevin?" Josh interjects bringing me back to reality. We're currently seated in the music shop
after closing time, eating cake and drinking tea and coffee. Or at least I was eating cake just before
Laura decided to drop her bombshell in an effort to choke me to death.
"Kevin is this boy at school that likes picking on others. He also likes to inflict pain on anyone he
doesn't like and he doesn't like most people." Alex explains, leaning backwards to peer up at Josh
who is standing behind him. Alex is seated cross legged on the counter and Josh hastily holds his
hands out expecting Alex to fall back. Hell, I was expecting Alex to fall back but sadly such a
distraction from this impossible conversation is not to be. It seems I'm thinking about the right
Kevin.
"He doesn't sound very nice." Josh comments, pushing Alex forward, even though Alex has yet to
lose his balance.
"He isn't." Alex states turning to Laura once more, raising his eyebrows in rather obvious question.
Laura ignores him, chewing her custard tart, swallowing and licking her fingers clean before
speaking. "Like I said, Kevin came over to me and apologised and I've no idea why. So I made a
few enquiries…" Laura's favourite story telling tool is suspense. Why doesn't she just get on with it
already! "He stopped picking on people three weeks ago. He even threatened his lackeys when they
picked on the new freshman boy. You know, the one with the thick glasses and braces."
Silence…
Pure utter and complete shell shocked silence or at least it would be if Laura was not busy chewing
on yet another custard tart. Kevin isn't picking on other students? It simply does not compute. Now
I know that Alex and I have been relatively free of his bullying and other than a few derogatory
remarks from him, have been left in peace but that's because Laura blackmailed him. He still picked
on others, especially freshmen. Which begs the question: What kind of blackmail material does
someone need to get this?
"But… but… but… "Alex stutters and for once I'm actually grateful for my speech difficulties
which are preventing me from doing the same. His eyes are wide and his chin is trying desperately
to touch the floor. Alex is floored and his loss of words is rather mind boggling.
Laura raises an eyebrow at him and glances at me, gauging our shock and allowing the suspense to
build once more. I jump along with Alex when Laura leaps off the counter, still cradling her custard
tart. "I'm every bit as surprised as you are," she states calmly, certainly not looking shocked or
surprised. "…but that's life. People change." She grabs her jacket and finishes off the tart. "Take
good care of him while I'm away." She winks at Josh, obviously speaking to him before turning to
me. "And you…" I jerk back. She's poking me in the nose! "Tell Beau I say hi." She ruffles Alex's
hair and leaves, leaving us with our shock and confusion.
People change. What Laura said is true. People do change, but the question is, can we change so
much? Can we go against our very nature, against the habits that have been ingrained into our very
souls and change so much so quickly? Can we let the past go and head for a new future? Into an
entirely different direction? Is it possible to reach for the unobtainable? Freedom. Freedom from the
sins of our past?
Have I changed?
So much in my life has changed but the question is: have I changed? Have I grown? Can I change
that much? Release the chains that bind me to the shadows in my heart? Release the sins of my past
and like Kevin, start anew? Can I reach for it? For the moon and the distant unobtainable dream that
I so long for? Can I set myself free?
My phone rings and I answer it on the first ring. I want to hear the soft baritone of Beau's voice, his
soft words and that simple phrase that grants me happiness and wipes my fear away. "Dimitri?"
Always a question but one that requires no answer for he knows it's me. "Good news. Kia tells me
the trial is nearly over. They'll be giving the verdict soon. Dimitri! You hear me. It will finally be
over and you'll be free." My heart soars with his words and the excitement within them. It's that
simple. His voice and the knowledge that he loves me is all I need. "You won't have to worry about
him, anymore. You hear me, Dimitri. You won't have to worry. I'm coming home for the verdict. I'll
be there for you. You'll be okay. I love you."
No.
I cannot free myself from the shadows that bind me.
I can't set myself free from the guilt, the horror and the nightmares that haunt my sleep and claw at
my heart, mind and soul.
But…
Softly…
Gently…
With infinite patience and love…
One day…
Beau can.

Verdict
Beau's eminent return reminds me of Mattie. Sometimes we need to see something in another
before we see it in ourselves. It's so much easier that way, so much easier to right another's problem
than it is our own. I told Beau that Mattie's death wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could've
done to stop it. He didn't know it was going to happen. Mattie's death made me realise something.
What my father did, what he made me do, is not my fault. I know that speaking sooner may have
saved some of them but I'm not to blame for his sins. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't make it any
easier to deal with, doesn't rid me of the pain of it all or the nightmares but at least it rids me of my
self-hatred, a self-hatred that was cutting down my ability to face the pain and grief and maybe, just
maybe there is hope for me. I mean, if Kevin can change then so can I.
Funnily enough, I'm grateful to Zach, grateful to him for giving me the chance to find myself in all
the turmoil in my life. I ran. I actually managed to find the courage to run away from him that day
and even though I tripped and fell, I still managed to get away from him… on my own, without any
help.
It took Kia a while to tell me but they found Zach the next day. He shot himself. He aimed for his
chest and managed to miss most of his vital organs so he's still alive. I have mixed feelings about
that. He wanted to hurt me… He drugged me so that he could get back at Beau. He wanted me to
drive while under the influence of drugs. I think he wanted me to die, like Mattie did. I think he
really believes his own words, believes that Beau drugged Mattie and that makes me sad. Zach is
full of pain and grief. He's mourning the loss of his brother, mourning the loss of Evan and so has
lost his ability to reason. He's lying to himself. He honestly believes Beau is to blame.
Even though Beau was angry with me, I'm glad that I refused to press charges against Zach. Part of
me, wants to give him a second chance. He could've done so much to hurt me; could've done to me
what he did to Layla. Instead, he chose to ask me to drive. He reminds me of my father after the
death of my mother but another part of him… the despair in his eyes reminds me of me. He didn't
hurt me. He hates himself. I can see it in the way he tried to kill himself, see it in the way he spoke
to me when he spoke about Evan. Evan, the instigator in all of this. Beau never did tell me anything
about Evan. I get the feeling he doesn't know. I will not be telling him. What happened between
Evan, Mattie and Zach needs to stay between Evan and Zach. Mattie is already dead. It doesn't
matter anymore. We all need to move on with our lives. I hope Zach does too.
My stomach is tying itself up in knots and I think I'm going to throw up. I feel so very sick. Today's
the day that we will finally hear the outcome of the trial. It's been going on for so long. I never
realised it could drag on like that. It's been sitting in the back of my mind, haunting me with
nightmares, with fear and with anxiety and now it's making me sick. What if they let him go? What
if all of it was for nothing? They never gave him bail but what if they let him go free? Shit! I think
I'm going to throw up.
"Dimitri?" I can hear Beth calling me. "Beau's here. It's time to go." It's time to go to the court
house. I'm shaking. I'm scared. II have to face my father for the second time since the day he
stabbed me and today he may very well go free. Oh please, please let them say he's guilty.
I step out of my room and run down the stairs trying to resist the urge to cry. I can't cry. I will not
cry. I won't let him defeat me. I can do this. I can face this. After today, my fate will be decided. I
will put him behind me and I will move on with my life. Yet, why do I not believe myself? I'm
terrified! So much hangs in the balance of a single verdict.
I missed him. I missed Beau so very much. I run down the stairs and throw myself into his arms. I
want to touch him, feel him and hold him. He's so very warm and his scent surrounds me. I love his
scent. It is so unique, so much his. I missed it so much. "Hey, Dimitri." His voice rumbles through
me. He holds me close and I allow myself to drown in the sweet sensation of his touch. "I missed
you."
I glance up at him and meet those bright green eyes. 'I missed you too.' I sign and I can feel myself
beaming. I'm grinning, smiling up at him like an idiot. For a moment I'm able to forget the fear and
apprehension within me and concentrate on the joy I feel at seeing him again.
His lips are so soft and his greeting feather light. It's only a brush of his lips against mine but for
me, it's enough. He missed me, maybe even as much as I missed him. Beau cares for me enough to
miss me and the realisation makes me want to cry with relief. I don't know why he cares for me,
why he wants me but for some reason I no longer care to. It does not matter. Just like Mattie's death,
it's a fact, something that simply is and something that I should simply accept.
I draw away from him and watch him for a moment, simply taking in the tiny changes in his face
since I last saw him. He looks calmer, somehow. The mischief and happiness in his gaze is more
prominent than it was before and I can no longer see any trace of the anger I could see when he left,
the anger that was directed at me for not pressing charges against Zach. I guess time does
sometimes heal wounds, even if it's only a little. 'Thank you.' I sign, thanking him for so much. For
being here, for missing me and for loving me, I guess.
He looks puzzled when I place a finger upon his lips to stop any protest. I want to leave it at this,
this moment, just for me. Beau simply nods and accepts my gratitude without question and I love
him all the more for it. I don't know how he does it, how he simply looks into my soul and knows
the right thing to say or do, but he does. If I really think about it, he always has. He was always
there when I needed him the most. Always sticking his nose into my business and always getting me
to face things I've been running away from years. Have I really changed that much?
"Come on. We'll be late." His hand is warm in my clasp and his touch is gentle as he pulls me
towards the door. It calms me. His touch calms the raging fear within me and gives me the courage I
need to face this turning point in my life, a turning point that will change the course of my life
forever.
Something catches my eye as he guides me to the door and I pause. A flash of pure white upon the
small table that stands besides the door. I don't know why but I am drawn to the small white
envelope that lies there. Beth doesn't usually keep envelopes on the table beside the door. Beau
looks confused when I drop his hand and walk towards the small white square but my mind is too
preoccupied to fully register his confusion. Why is there a small white envelope on the table? Wait.
It has my name on it!
I reach out and grasp the piece of paper, staring at it in shock. The envelope has my name on it and
nothing else. No stamps, no delivery address and no return address, just my name, written in black
ink. It calls to me… a mystery that begs to be solved. Who could've sent me this envelope? Is it
from Kia? Beth? Beau? If so, why the strange method of delivery? What's it for? What's inside?
Beau's touch tears me from my contemplation and I look up to meet his concerned gaze. "We're
really going to be late if we don't go now, Dimitri." He states softly, embracing me from behind and
resting his chin on my shoulder. He's worried about me. I guess he has every reason to be. Placing
the envelope down once more I turn and return his embrace for a moment, taking in his scent, his
warmth and the silent words in his touch. I love the silent words in his touch. Words that tell me 'I
love you' Softly. 'You're mine' Gently. 'I want you.' Always. 'Please stay with me.' And so much
more. Drawing away I grab his hand and it's my turn to guide him out. I'll read the letter later. Once
all of this is done.
***
There's so much noise and unrest around me as everyone waits in anticipation. There are so many
strangers here, so many people I don't know and it all overwhelms me. Who are they? Why are they
here? What impact does today's verdict have on their lives? I can feel it, tension and fear rising up
within me, consuming me, making it difficult to breathe, to concentrate, to think. Oh shit. I'm going
to pass out. Everything around me is pressing in on me and not even Beau's touch can calm me.
The noise in the court room is dying and everyone holds their breath as the jury marches back in.
Every detail is clear to me, the shuffle of their feet, the wrinkles in their clothes and the blank
expression upon their faces. What are they going to say? What will their decision be? Will he be
free or will he… Oh hell, I can't breathe. Get it over with already, damn it!
Most of them are sitting down and one remains standing. I can vaguely hear words from the
direction of the judge as well as mumbled words from the people around me but I do not register
them. I'm watching her. The woman that's standing before us, holding a piece of paper, watching her
lips and waiting for the words that will escape them.
The world holds its breath in silence and an eternity passes me by in an instant, an eternity that
rushes in on me in a roar of pure horror and terror as her softly spoken words finally register upon
my mind, echoing over and over again into the shocked silence that now fills the entire court room.
"We the jury find the defendant: Cassius Cyr, on the charge of murder to the first degree of Shaia
Cyr: Not Guilty!"
Oh shiiiiit!

Live and leave the past behind you

Not guilty? How can they find him not guilty? He killed her. He killed my mother. I know he did. I
saw it. Shit. They said he's not guilty and now he'll be free again. Free to kill, again. This can't be
happening. Oh please, this cannot be happening. I can't breathe, I can't think, oh hell, it hurts too
much. "Shh, breathe, Dimitri, breathe." Warm breath trickles into my ear along with his voice. Beau
is whispering to me, gentle words of reassurance. "They found him guilty of murder to the second
degree. They're not done yet. He won't get away. I promise. Breathe Dimitri."
I can feel his soft touch through my panic and I lock my concentration upon it, focus on it to fight
the betrayal of my body. Second degree, they found him guilty of second degree murder. So they
didn't find him not guilty at all. It was only first degree murder he's not guilty of. He killed her and
they have found him guilty of murder. The roaring in my ears fades and the fist clutching my heart
releases it, allows me to breathe once more. Their words are clear in my mind once again and I
realise that she's still speaking, still addressing the charges against my father.
It takes time for the final verdict to sink into my mind. The jury found him guilty of second degree
murder with regards to my mother and guilty of first degree murder with regards to the rest, all
except for Amy. They declared him not guilty of her murder. It hurts that he's getting away with her
murder. It's not fair. I know he killed her. I saw him kill her and they found him not guilty. Kia tells
me it's because they never found her body. They can't prove that she is dead to begin with, let alone
that he killed her.
He got thirty years. My father got thirty years for the murder of my mother and life for each of the
rest, three life sentences and an additional thirty years to be served sequentially with no possibility
for parole. They never tried him for what happened between him, Beth and me. He's going to
prison. My father is going to prison for the rest of his life. He will die there but it still hurts. Amy
never got her justice. Amy is dead and her murderer is cleared of the crime. It's not right.
***
Beau's leaving. The trial is finally over and Beau is going back to university. He has exams to write.
Alex, Laura and Josh stopped by after the trial and we spent the rest of the day talking about the
verdict. Or rather, I should say they spent the rest of the day discussing the outcome of the trial. I
simply sat in silence, lost in the conflict of my own emotions, lost in the injustice of it all. My father
only got thirty years for killing my mother and cutting her up, only thirty years for tearing my life
apart and even though he got life for three other murders, he will still live. Live out the rest of his
days, fed and clothed by the government, fed and clothed by those who work hard for a living, fed
and clothed by me, when I start paying taxes.
Laura seems to have toned down a bit and I think there may be something happening between Alex
and her. She keeps sending him these glances and on occasion I can see a faint blush upon his
cheeks. Josh doesn't look too bothered by it. Lilac has commandeered my lap, officially declaring
that it's her doggie bed. She likes sleeping curled up in my lap and I like it when she does so. She's
warm and soft. She makes me feel better. Beau is sitting beside me, his hand casually resting on my
leg. Strangely enough, we don't even get a second glance but I guess that's because everyone
expected us to get together from the day we met.
A flare of sharp pain courses through me and fades as quickly as it comes. Wait a minute. He bit
me! Beau just nipped me in the ear! "Hmm, Dimitri. I have to get going." A shiver courses down my
spine with his whisper. His breath is so warm, so sensual as it drifts over the sensitive skin in my
ear. "I'm writing tomorrow morning. I'll call you. I love you." I miss him. He's yet to leave and I
miss him already. I turn and meet his gaze, those brilliant green eyes sparkling as they meet mine
and the next thing I know I feel the soft silken touch of his lips upon mine and I'm lost, lost to
reality, myself and anything around me. Everything I know, everything I want is right here before
me in the sensual touch of his lips upon mine, in the gentle caress of his hand upon my thigh.
I whimper when he withdraws, my desire once again torn away from me. Damn him! I want him so
bad yet he refuses to do more than kiss me. His slightest touch sets my skin afire, makes me hunger,
makes me want him. I want him to touch me, to run his hands over my skin and so much more yet
he continues to deny me. Why does he continue to deny me?
Wait! Laura, Alex and Josh are staring at us and they look amused. "Well, I guess we'd better get
going." Laura suddenly declares, grabbing hold of Josh's and Alex's hands and dragging them up
right after her. "We really have over stayed our welcome." She's grinning at me and I can see the
spark of mischief in her gaze. I can see what's coming next and my skin is already turning bright
red! "Put those toys to good use, boys." She chirps cheerfully, winking at me. The last thing I see is
the knowing smirk on her lips, the amusement upon Josh's face and the embarrassment upon Alex's
and then they're gone, leaving me alone with him.
He's laughing! Beau is actually laughing at me! I think I'm going to die from embarrassment. How
could she say that and how could he just laugh at me? Is he not even remotely embarrassed? "Don't
worry about her." Beau tells me softly, leaning over to ruffle my hair. "I think she likes getting
under your skin. She does it for the reaction you give her and as much as I'd like to take her up on
her offer, I do have to be going. I still want to get some studying done tonight." I'm burning up from
the inside out from embarrassment yet I'm actually disappointed that he's not taking Laura up on her
offer. What's happening to me?! A part of me hates myself for wanting it but another part loves the
very idea of it. The touch of his lips upon mine once more is soft and far too fleeting. "I love you."
Those whispered words of his send a shiver down my spine and as usual leave me feeling warm,
cared for and bereft, longing for so much more.
 ***
It's some time after Beau's departure that I finally remember it, the white envelope upon the table,
simply labelled: Dimitri. Lilac looks rather confused when I leap up and run down the stairs to
snatch it up. Beth peers out the kitchen door, a dish in hand. She smiles when she notices me,
standing beside the table, staring at the envelope in my hand in silence. "Oh, I forgot about that. I
found it on the front doorstep this morning addressed to you. Looks like it was hand delivered." She
smiles at me and cocks her head to the side. "Looks like someone really wanted you to get it." Then
she simply winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen leaving me alone once more to
contemplate the small white envelope in my clasp.
I slowly make my way back to my room, my mind racing and my thoughts in turmoil. Who is it
from, this simple white envelope that no one has told me about. Why was it hand delivered to the
front doorstep? Why is my name on it? Something tells me it's not from Beau it's obviously not
from Beth so who could it possibly be from? This innocent looking envelope is important. I can feel
it and part of me is afraid to open it, afraid to face what it contains.
Lilac jumps into my lap the moment I settle back down onto the bed. She curls up and goes back to
sleep, as if she'd never been disturbed in the first place. She looks so peaceful, so carefree, so
innocent. I wish I could be like that, so casual. I wish my life could be as simple as hers but it's not.
The small white envelope in my hand is blatant evidence of that. I trace the paper, taking in its
texture for a moment. I need to open it… I snatch up a pencil and use it to tear the envelope open
and slide the paper inside out before I lose my courage.
It falls open.
The pages fall open to reveal black script as neat as that on the face of the envelope:
Dimitri
I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing to you. Part of me is wondering the same thing but
there's something I need to say to you. I never meant to hurt you. Not really. I guess I wasn't
thinking. I don't know how to say this. I wanted you to die like Mattie died so Beau would know how
it feels to lose someone you love. I wanted you to die in a car accident and I wanted to die with you.
I don't deserve to live. A man like me doesn't deserve life after what I did to Layla and after what I
nearly did to you but it seems I've been given a second chance. I found Evan. Or more specifically
Evan found me. Would you believe that he's studying to become a doctor? Evan told me the truth.
Mattie was drunk that day. Seems Beau didn't drug him. I'm sorry.
Could you tell him that for me? I'm asking you to because I don't think he'll even read anything I
write. He'd probably burn it and I can't face him. Not after everything I've done. Could you please
tell him I'm sorry? I know I don't deserve forgiveness so I won't even ask for it. I just wanted you to
know.
Also I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for not pressing charges. I don't know why you didn't
press charges against me but thanks. I can't go back to prison again. I would rather die and Evan,
he, well he wants to give us a second chance. I'm getting a second chance with Evan. This time
we're dating for real.
Evan regrets what he did to Beau and what he helped me do to Layla. He says that's why he chose
to become a doctor. I know it's not enough. Nothing can ever be enough but it's a start? I won't hurt
anyone else anymore. I promise. Mattie wouldn't want me to. I miss him, Dimitri. I miss my brother
but now I know it wasn't Beau's fault and I'm sorry. I know he can never forgive me but I truly am
sorry.
I'm studying to join the police force. Evan has chosen his method of atonement and I think this
should be mine. What I did is unforgivable but Evan says dying is the easy way out. I need to atone.
I need to stop others from suffering the same fate. I know it'll never be enough but I have chosen to
live. I wanted you to know that.
I'm glad that Beau has chosen to do the same. I'm glad he's finally letting Mattie go. He loves you.
Dimitri and I know you love him back. Be happy. Live and leave the past behind you.
Zach

Life
I never told Beau about the letter from Zach. It would only hurt him to know the truth behind Evan,
Mattie and Zach, hurt him to know that Layla got hurt because Evan chose to remain silent. Isn't it
amazing, the power it holds? How a single moment of silence can change so many lives? How it
can escalate so much and lead to so much pain? Secrets hidden in silence fester and lead only to
misunderstanding.
I know what you're thinking. I'm keeping yet another secret from Beau, hiding this letter and the
truth behind what happened between him and Mattie. Yet, secrets still hold their purpose. This one I
hold to protect him. To protect the one I love. Someday I will tell him the truth. Someday when he
manages to forgive himself for Mattie's death, I will sit down with him and show him the betrayal
and the regret, someday when both of us have healed.
The melancholic melody in my room dies as I move the wooden instrument I hold away from my
lips. Melancholy, it's such a deep emotion, so complex, so faceted yet at the same time so very
simple and familiar. I still play the panpipes. I like the sweet sound they make when I blow into
them, the crisp, clean notes and the lilting melodies so very different from my ragged and torn
voice. Also, they remind me of Beth and everything she did for me. I guess you could call them
something I treasure.
I can hear the faint ringing of the doorbell in my ear and I turn and run towards the door Lilac hot
on my heels. Lilac follows me wherever I go, almost as if she's guarding me, watching over me and
perhaps making sure I don't do anything stupid. I must admit, at times I'm still tempted. My
nightmares still haunt me and my guilt plagues me along with it. It's illogical, I know, but such is
the nature of memory and emotion. So I still have bad days of depression intermingled with this
strange content and happiness I seem to have found. I still have days where death seems to call out
to me but I remember my unspoken promise to Alex and to myself. When it gets really bad, I call
Beau just so I can hear the sound of his voice, just so he can tell me he still loves me.
My psychologist tells me it's normal to still feel depressed and down for seemingly no reason
whatsoever. She says I suffer from anxiety, depression and panic disorder. She says it like it's some
kind of great revelation to me. I'm not that stupid though. I already knew all of that. She's prescribed
some anti depressants for me but I refuse to take them. I refuse to let some drug be a crutch for my
own inadequacy. I refuse to let myself be lost to false euphoria. I will deal with this on my own and
day by day I will find the strength to live, for me and for him. I will find the strength to live for
Beau because I love him. It seems to be getting better. I have fewer episodes and am actually
beginning to discover joy and happiness. Oh, how I miss him.
The door creaks softly as I open it. I gape in silent shock. Beau is standing at my door grinning at
me! What on earth is he doing here? Isn't he supposed to be at university? Studying, or writing
exams? I must be dreaming. This must be some kind of hallucination, a dream brought to life by my
deprived mind. It simply can't be real. Oh, but it is. The stinging of the skin on my arm where I
pinched myself tells me it's very real. "Surprise." He whispers, his green eyes filled with that devil
may care mischief that I've so come to associate with him and him alone. "Come on." Pure warmth
courses through me as he grabs my hand and drags me out without so much as a by your leave.
Typical. "We're going to be late."
We're going to be late? Late to where? What's going on? I stumble after him, part of me still unable
to believe my eyes. I don't know why, I mean, he's done this before, shown up unannounced in
order to surprise me but it's always been during some key point in my life. Beau always came to
support me during my darkest moments. So I know he likes doing this but for the life of me I can't
figure out why on earth he would possibly be here today.
As usual, not giving me a chance to react he opens the passenger door to his car and pushes me in,
pausing but a moment to pick up Lilac who followed me out. Dumping her on my lap he runs
around the car and gets into the driver's seat, grinning like a maniac and rather obviously ignoring
my questioning glance. I don't ask what he's up to. From the look on his face I know he's not going
to tell me, so the drive passes me by in silence.
Beau has brought me to his home and is now currently running ahead of me to open the door. Lilac
is licking my fingers as I cradle her in my arms, completely content. Her day's just been made by
the trip in the car. She loves to travel. She is fairly simple and happy go lucky and small things
amuse her to no end. Beau vanishes from my sight before I even manage to catch up to him and
suddenly I find myself alone. It's more than a touch disconcerting. I know it doesn't make any sense
but suddenly I can feel all the loneliness that I've hidden for so many years, rising up to choke me.
So many memories… this place contains so many conflicted memories, not the least of which, those
that happened right next door: pain, happiness, despair, terror, comfort, love, hatred and
understanding.
Ignoring the turmoil deep within me I follow after Beau and step into his home. He's left the door
open for me, yet is nowhere in sight. What on earth is he thinking? Bringing me here and then
abandoning me completely. I take a few more steps further in only to be surrounded by noise, light,
laughter and, oh so, bright colour. "Surprise!"
They're here, so many people all gathered in a single place, all gathered together and smiling at me.
I can see Beau, his parents, Alex, Josh, Laura, Layla and even Kevin. Wait just one minute! What on
earth is Kevin doing here? I mean, this is Kevin we're talking about, the guy that tried to beat me up
on my first day of school and threatened me several times thereafter. "Happy birthday." They are
approaching me with well wishes, smiles and so much colour. Happy birthday? Hold on a second.
Oh yeah, now that I think about it's my birthday. Wait…Why am I getting a party when neither of
them did? I don't even know when any of their birthday's are? How on earth could all of them have
slipped me by without me noticing? Have I really been this oblivious?
I'm staring at them in shock but most of all I'm staring at Kevin. No one's told me what on earth he
is doing here. He's smiling, not the usual smirk he has when he's trying to get something, no, an
actual honest smile and the expression on his face is filled with affection. It's creepy. You know; the
kind of creepy that sends a chill down your spine simply because something is out of place. Kevin
seems softer somehow and now that I really look at him I can see that he's watching Layla and she
is smiling up at him. How the hell did that happen?! When did he manage to even meet her?
"They're going out."
I glance to the side in surprise to find Laura beside me. "We just found out today. Apparently they
met in the library though I honestly can't picture Kevin ever setting foot in there. I told him that if
he hurts her I'm going to tear him limb from limb." She's smirking as she says the last, a rather
malicious glint in her eyes. Let me tell you. I really don't want to get on Laura's bad side.
Beau looks rather distressed but at the same time, resigned. He keeps sending wary glances his
sister's way and I can practically see the gears in his mind turning. I can't say that Kevin's presence
pleases me all that much either but Layla looks happy and if anyone can take care of themselves it's
definitely Layla. She's an amazingly strong person I've realised, to forgive Zach and Evan for doing
that to her and to worry more about her brother's well being than her own. All of that takes amazing
strength and integrity. I'm surprised that Kevin looked twice at her, though, seeing she's in a
wheelchair but then again, I guess one can never truly know what lies in another's heart, only what
they choose to show us and often that's based more on lies than truth. I should know that better than
anyone. "Also…" Laura's still speaking. "I better not find out that he's the one that broke up with
her should they ever break up." Her words are said casually but the threat in them is all too clear.
Even Beau picks up on it and sends Laura a surprised glance.
***
"I'll kill him! Either him or her! Who was the bright spark that decided to give me all my gifts
unlabeled as to who they're from, anyway? Did I really have to be unsuspecting as I opened Laura's
gift to me once again? Was it really necessary? Yes, even though the package was unlabeled I just
know it's from Laura. I mean, amongst paints, art books, music scores, pencils, architecture drawing
tools and a CD, a thong really does stand out! What's even worse it's bright pink! What is it with me
and bright pink? Do I look like a girl? Okay, maybe I don't actually want you to answer that.
I'm finally going. Kia is driving with Beth beside him and they're both engaged in a rather animated
conversation that I've long since lost the gist of. They look happy together. The idea of having Kia
in my life as a father is still rather unsettling. I'm dating his brother after all but Beth deserves
happiness and Kia seems to be it. Surprisingly, the pink thong is the only strange gift I received
today, if you discount Lilac peeing on Beau's carpet from excitement that is. Kia bought a joint
present with Beth, for me. I guess that's why I didn't get anything strange from him, or maybe it's
simply due to the fact that it would be near on impossible to find something we don't already own
between Beau and I. He did, after all, give Beau quite the collection when he gave Beau the birds
and the bees talk. Either way, I by far prefer the architecture drawing tools. I plan to study
architecture next year and I'm going to need them. Don't look at me that way. I'm not stupid and I
will have you know that I have managed to considerably improve my marks since last year. I want
to join Beau at university. I want Beau to be proud of me.
We're nearly home. I never thought I would ever have a stable place that I could call that, but then
again, I never thought many things before I met Beau. My life has changed so much. Sometimes I
wonder if it's all but a dream I will wake from only to be faced with my all too familiar nightmares
once again. Only, this touch, the warmth of his skin upon mine, his lips, his breath and the beauty in
his gaze, all of it is just so real. Beau is dozing on my shoulder, his body rocking ever so slightly
into mine every time the car shifts or turns. It's almost surreal and I'm content. The feeling, this
peaceful moment is amazing. Maybe one day there will be more than just fleeting moments.
Beau wakes the moment we stop and blinks sleepily at me. I love the dazed look in his eyes, the
foggy mystery that seems to cloud that brilliant green gaze seconds before full awareness. "We've
arrived?" Damn. He wakes up so quickly. How does he do that? Go from half asleep to avidly
awake in less than a second? He's so alive and full of energy and is dragging me up the stairs to my
bedroom before I even have a chance to register what's happening.
Click.
I can hear my door close and I just know that Lilac will soon be scratching on it, asking to come in
as soon as she catches up to us. Beau is watching me with a small smile upon his lips and I can feel
my anticipation rise. "Now that we're finally alone." Shivers course through my blood at his
whispered words and my mind immediately reaches for suggestive thoughts it probably shouldn't be
reaching for. I'm alone with Beau and he's watching me, whispering to me, his bright green gaze
filled with so much affection that I literally ache to see it. When did he manage to get that attached?
When did I manage to lose myself completely to him? "I can give you my birthday present now."
He's holding out a small black box towards me, cradling it in the palm of his hand… I watch him
for a moment before I reach out and take the box from him. I open it carefully only to stare in shock
at what's inside. A ring... Beau is giving me a silver ring that instead of closing in on itself twists
into a spiral. It's a broken circle, yet for some reason, complete in a rather unique way. Although
broken, it's still clearly a ring, still fulfils its purpose, still able to cling to a finger. "You're mine."
His whispered words embrace me and he pulls the ring from the box to slip it onto my finger. "Now
and forever, Dimitri, you're mine."
His touch is, oh so, gentle as he draws me closer and suddenly I'm lost within a sea of sensation,
lost within his touch, his scent, his taste, lost completely within him. He's touching me, running his
fingers through my hair, down the nape of my neck, sending shivers of pleasure coursing right
through me. I can feel it, his heat through the thin fabric of my shirt as he runs his hands over my
shoulder blades, down my spine and to the hollow of my back. He is touching me, his touch gentle
light and teasing, burning me with his fingers alone. I can taste him upon my tongue as he runs his
tongue over mine and I want him with every fibre of my being.
***
I wake to an empty room, to silence and to loneliness. Beau is gone and I'm once again alone.
Perhaps it was all a dream, an illusion, a fantasy brought on by my delusional mind in an attempt to
comfort myself. It is such cold comfort when I wake to find myself alone, surrounded by the bleak
truth of my own reality, surrounded by my own despair. That is until…
A glint of silver... the ring... the ring is still around my finger and a book rests on the pillow beside
me, a familiar leather bound volume that I know I did not place there. Sitting up I shiver as the cool
silk of my sheets slides across my naked skin, reminding me… Last night was not but a dream or
fantasy. It was all too real and I ache for it in places I never knew I could. Ignoring the physical
reminders of my lost virginity I reach for the leather bound volume, for some reason inexplicably
drawn to it, curious to see what it may be doing beside me.
The volume falls open and I can see my mother's face, smiling up at me. It hurts to see her cheerful
smile and know it was stolen from her, to know her very life was violently snatched from her before
she could ever truly live it. It hurts and the pain echoes deep within me, a pain that will always be
there. I turn the pages, already aware of the snippets of my life that Beth and Beau have placed in
this book, aware of the memories I've cherished for so long: the photographs, the newspaper
clippings and the little notes. I know what's in this book. It was given to me not so long ago, given
to me to hold my memories, memories I've yet to add to. I know exactly what lies in this book yet I
continue to page through it, curious to see why it may be placed so obviously at my side.
Found it.
I've found what he intended me to find; something new, something that was not there before. In the
new section, the beginning marked out by Beau's black page, beside the adoption papers he pasted
there I find bright colourful photographs... photographs of Alex, smiling up at Josh with Laura
hanging off of Josh's arm, sticking her tongue out to the camera, pictures of Beth and Kia, Lilac,
Layla and Beau, bright cheerful pictures of everyone that's become important on me. "There's one
more." I glance up in surprise at the sound of his voice, his bright green eyes watching me with
affection. "I have one more memory to add to your new collection." Beau whispers as he
approaches me.
I'm utterly enthralled by his presence and I couldn't move away even if I wanted to. I can feel it, can
feel the joy bubbling up within me now that I realise he hasn't left me. Beau is still here and the
changes in my life are actually real. Beau sits down beside me and reaches forward, a small slip of
white paper in his clasp. I can hear every movement, the shuffle, the slide and finally the silence as I
stare at what he's put onto the page before me.
I can feel it, liquid heat coursing through my veins as I stare at the small piece of paper that rests
within my book of memories. It's a sketch. A small detailed sketch of me, fast asleep, the sheets
gathered around my obviously naked body, the expression on my face a mixture of sated pleasure
and peace. He must've drawn it last night, after… I can feel it, heat, warmth and affection for that
sketch says only one thing… I am his.
"Beau." My whispered breath is finally free from hesitation. "I love you."
Memories…
Oh so bitter…
Oh so sweet …
Are the memories of my heart.
END