Leaving the dust and the mayhem, I retraced my steps. Too upset to glance back.
It took me a while to find him as I wandered back through the house.
Music carried.
The notes squirmed and twisted with the base of an electric guitar. Not his, but something familiar, something like Archie had listened to, with its raw lyrics and dangerous drums. The singer screeched his agony.
Drawing me closer.
I found Cassius in a room I’d never seen before. Down a hallway and hidden. I hadn’t discovered it yet. Maybe a place he didn’t want me in, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I needed to see him.
I’m the moth, and he’s the flame.
I needed to stare into his eyes where he can’t lie. Where he can’t hide, and I could see the truth.
I pushed the door open, unseen.
He was holding out an electric guitar. Staring at it. The lyrics of the song morphed into something worse, ramping up the torturous tension. Notes wrapped themselves around me. “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails.
And I knew his pain. Felt his pain.
His agony was suffocating.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
Our eyes collided. I was like a deer caught in headlights.
The moment happened slowly . . .
The guitar was flying through the air.
Smashing against the wall.
Broken into smithereens as slivers of wood and wires and plastic shards went flying.
Time stood still.
If hate had a name, it would be the look Cassius was giving me. It tore me in two. He ripped me into shreds with a fitful glare.
He squeezed his eyes shut. His face contorted with confusion. “I’m in the house. This is now. I’m in the present moment. The past has no hold. The future isn’t here yet.” He was talking to himself, trying to coax his clear and present panic away. “Just breathe. That’s all that’s expected.”
“That’s all,” I whispered. “Just breathe, Cassius.” I tried to comfort him, but he was like a wild animal after an attack, like a creature unsafe and too close to run from.
A sob escaped my lips. My chest heaved as I tried to draw in a breath. Coldness edged its way over me and through me, causing my skin to chill like ice. It shattered me into nothingness as I became the abyss of whose eyes I was staring into—his.
“Anya . . .” His voice broke.
A look consumed his eyes. One I hadn’t seen before. Almost like . . . remorse. His chest heaved with regret, heaving with a thousand emotions tearing him apart.
“I’m—I’m sorry.” He looked lost.
And at that moment, I was reminded that his father had died here, and out there, in the garden, his mom had passed away at the hands of my father. He’d stayed here ever since, even as a grieving young man to endure the loss.
Quickly, he closed the gap between us almost seeming calm. All of his rage was gone. His hands lifted in a motion of defeat.
Yet, like a scared animal, I was still afraid, and my soul was crushed by his words and actions. “Don’t—” The emotions I had held back released in a rush, my hands trembling from the emotions swirling inside of me.
He was beside me quickly, taking me into his arms, holding me in a tight embrace. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Kiss upon kiss was placed on my forehead.
And then a kiss on my nose.
A press of his lips to mine.
My jaw trembled.
“I didn’t mean to scream,” he said softer.
“Why did you?” I heaved a sob.
And then another.
I turned to look away at the floor, but he placed a fingertip under my jaw. Our eyes locked, and I could see the agony.
“You tried to clean it?” He swallowed his apology.
I didn’t speak, just stared up at his beautiful, sad face.
“It was inside that chapel I lost the last part of me.”
Reaching up, I cupped his face, tracing his lines, trying to show him the love and tenderness I had never seen. “I’m sorry.” I leaned forward, placing my lips on his jaw. “I’m sorry,” I kissed him again. “I’m so sorry.”
He held me away. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, but it’s why I’m here.”
“It is.”
“And I want to be here. With you. Help me help you purge your pain.”
“Nothing can.”
“What happened back there?”
He looked off, eyes full of anguish. “You can’t go in there.”
“Cassius, you have to tell me why. You have to open up to me.”
Torment twisted his face into a kind of pain I’d never seen him wear before. “I can’t.”
“Please, tell me.” I moved toward him and held his hand, coaxing.
“You will hate me as much as I hate myself.”
“Not possible,” I said quietly.
“He wasn’t dead.” Cassius swallowed. “My father.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I held my mom as she lay dying, she told me Dad was dead. That he’d been killed back in the house. She really believed that. But he wasn’t gone.”