Raveling You
Page 5

I make a mental note to mention the guy to my mother when I see her later tonight. I’m sure he is just some random dude being a gawker. But, with how worried everyone’s been lately and with the police telling Lila to keep a closer eye on Ayden, it feels imperative to at least bring it up.
After the guy vanishes, I turn from the window and collect my phone from my dresser to text Ayden.
Me: U about ready to get this funfest on the road?
Ayden: Yeah, I’ll be over in like ten. I’m in the middle of something.
Even though we’re already running late, I don’t push him to hurry his butt up. I slip on my leather jacket, tuck my phone into the pocket, and pop in my earbuds. I crank up a little “For You, And Your Denial” by Yellowcard and flop down on my bed with my notebook I jot lyrics in.
Despite how collected I am around Ayden, my composure crumbles and splatters across the pages the moment I pick up a pen. Penning lyrics has become my outlet and my sanctuary, a time when I feel okay not being so cheery and smiley.
Can you hear me crying?
Silent agony that will completely vanish.
A scorch in my heart,
Singeing into embers.
My veins char to ash.
Hardly a flicker of fire left
To ignite life into me again.
Eventually the cold settles
Through my skin into my bones.
The embers drown with mourning,
Stealing the last breath of air.
And that silent cry dies,
Takes its final breath of air,
Caves to the chill.
Nothing is left, left, left.
Fading, withering, dying.
I pull the pen away. Okay, maybe my parents do need to worry about my mind.
I scratch my head as I reread my gloomy and slightly morbid lyrics. I don’t know why, but I kind of like them.
Feeling satisfied, I tuck my notebook away then turn to the window again to check on Ayden. His bedroom light is off, so he has to be heading over. Down in driveway, Uncle Ethan and my dad are sawing off the bottom of a tree. Kale and Fiona, Uncle Ethan and Aunt Lila’s other adopted children, are with them, gathering the stray tree branches and carrying them inside the Gregorys’ home to make wreaths like they do every year.
Ayden is nowhere in sight.
Me: Dude, where are you at?
He doesn’t respond.
About a minute later, I spot him hurrying up the sidewalk from the direction of the main road with the hood pulled over his head. Instead of cutting across the front lawn, he hunkers down behind the neighbor’s fence then climbs over it into his side of the yard. With his back pressed against his house, he inches toward the front door like a ninja, clearly trying to go unnoticed. But why? And where was he for the last ten minutes or so?
To make the situation sketchier, the instant he slips into the house, he texts me back.
Ayden: Just got out of the shower. Be over in a couple.
“That little liar,” I utter under my breath.
I wait near the window until he exits through the backdoor. He waves to my dad and his, then jogs around the fence to my yard. Like always, he knocks on the door before walking in.
My dad turns to him from the driveway and hollers, “Ayden, you can just go in!”
I pull my earbuds out and wait for him to walk into my bedroom. When he strolls in with damp hair, as if he actually took a shower, my jaw ticks with irritation.
“All right, buddy.” I stare him down hard. “What are you keeping from me?”
He averts his gaze to the floor, ruffling his hair into place. “What are you talking about? I’ve been at my house.” He scratches at the corner of his eye, and I notice a phone number on the back of his hand.
What the hell has he been up to tonight? And, better yet, who has he been with?
And why is he lying to me?
Chapter 2
Ayden
She has a very un-Lyric like expression on her face when I walk into her bedroom. She’s upset, maybe with me. After a week of being extra nice and agreeable, her determined attitude instantly throws me off. Then she bluntly calls me out on keeping something from her, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I spill my secret, because upsetting her will quickly wear me down.
“What do you mean?” I mess with my damp hair. Since I texted Lyric that I’d just gotten out of the shower, I actually had to get it wet in the bathroom sink before I headed over. I ended up getting the collar of my shirt wet in the process, making the back of my neck cold.
“Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me, looking all innocent.” She strides across the room then pokes me in the chest. “You know, usually I’m cool with you not telling me stuff, but when I see you creeping up to your house all ninja style then lying to me about where you were, telling me you were taking a shower,” she rolls her eyes, “that’s when I start pressing for info. So, tell me, where’d you sneak off to tonight?”
“I…” I trail off as she elevates her brows at me.
For the last two weeks, I’ve spent night after night wondering if my brother’s death was a murder caused by the people who held my siblings and me captive three years ago. His body had been found near the house we’d been held hostage. If it was the same people, I worry they’ll eventually try to kill my younger sister and me. My sister who I wish I could see again, if for nothing other than to know she’s safe.
Fear, toxic fear,
driving me insane.
Flooding me with rage.
Fear, toxic fear,
I wish you’d just disappear.
Leave me alone.