Untamed (Unbeautiful 2)

Rotting away.

Never to be saved.

Never to be seen again.

Ellis,

where are you?

I feel like the answer is buried

deep in the unbalance part of my mind.

Once forgotten, but now surfacing

as the poison leaves my mind.

I feel like I see you because I know the truth.

Feel like maybe you’re the truth trying to get set free.

But how do I find the truth,

when it’s hidden inside me?

“Emery.”

My head whips up from my notebook, and I drop my pen on the bed. I relax when I see it’s just Ellis hovering in the doorway. Well, relax as much as I can when I’m staring at what could possibly be a hallucination.

“Why are you here this time?” I sit up on the bed, swing my legs over the edge, and plant my feet onto the carpet. “Mother’s not coming, is she?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t I just drop by to check up on you?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“You’ve never done that before,” I remind him, sliding the notebook out of the way. “Usually, you come with a warning hidden in a riddle. Or to tell me to beware of Mother and Father, which I already knew. I’ve known since I was four and they strapped me to the bed for the first time, all because I dared open the front door at night.”

“That was the same night Father took me into the basement and punished me for the first time.”

“In the basement? I thought that was where he took the people who betrayed Elderman.”

“He did that, too. But sometimes he would take me down there when I betrayed him.” He pauses. “Didn’t you recognize my screams?”

“Sometimes,” I shamefully admit with my head hung low. “But it didn’t always sound like you.”

“Sometimes I was gagged, but it was usually in the basement… In the basement.” His voice echoes at the end.

Bile burns at the back of my throat as the image of our basement flashes through my mind, particularly the blood staining the concrete. “Ellis, I’m so sorry that that happened to you. I should have tried to help you.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.” He waves me off. “You can’t change the past, Emery, but what you can do is change your future.”

“And now it’s riddle time, right? Could you by chance tell me a riddle I could solve this time? Like why I see you here, yet every time I call back home to talk to you, Mother won’t let me speak to you. Or why she gets so angry whenever I mention you. I know she’s upset with you, but… it’s still so odd.”

“Mother never let us speak to each other before you left. You know that. And that’s not why I came tonight. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” He scans me over, as if checking for visible wounds. He won’t see them no matter how hard he looks. Most of my scars are internal, except for the one on my back inflicted by my father. “I had a bad feeling something was about to happen to you.”

“If you’re not real, how is it possible for you to have a bad feeling?” I wonder, nervously wringing my hands on my lap. “For a hallucination, you seem to know a lot. Maybe it’s me that knows stuff… Are you my subconscious trying to tell me stuff I already know?”

“How do you know that I’m not real?” he questions with speculation.

“I have no idea.” I rub my eyes exhaustedly. “It seems like you shouldn’t be, though. You’re basically a ghost.”

“You look tired,” he observes, changing the subject. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

“Sort of. I never seem to be able to fall asleep until almost morning, and by then the day has already begun again.” I glance out the window with a sigh.

It’s past ten o’clock at night, and the sky is a sheet of darkness splashed with glimmering stars. I’m in my pajamas; boxer shorts and a tank top. My long, brown hair is piled on top of my head, and my face is makeup free. I could blame my appearance on it being late, but it’s really because I’ve had zero energy to do anything since Evan left my place. Not only did he break me down and strip me of every ounce of energy, but the note has been weighing heavily on my mind. So far, I’ve received three.

Thou shall break.

We’re watching you, Emery. You’ve been a bad, bad girl, and now you’re going to pay.

We know what you did.

I haven’t told my father about the last one, and I’m unsure if I’m going to since I’m still not positive he isn’t the one sending me them. Although the handwriting doesn’t always resemble his; he could easily be hiring one of his minions to write them.

“You should tell him,” Ellis says abruptly.

“Tell who what?” I ask, redirecting my attention to him.

“You should tell the guy who’s always over—the one who can’t speak—about the letter on the doorstep.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “Ryler?”

I press my hand to my aching chest. It hurts to think about Ryler, a maddening pain, an invisible wound rubbed with salt. The words he wrote about me they fit my life so much. I desperately want him to show up and fix my wilting life. He never did, though, and it isn’t his job to do so, anyway. His job is to obey my father.

I want to cry just thinking about it. Cry. Cry. Cry. All the time. Cry because now I’m stuck with Evan who kisses and touches me. Bruises and breaks me. He even broke my bracelet today. Out of fear of my mother finding out again, I secured it to my wrist with a twist tie, but I have no idea what’s going to happen to me when she finds out. Part of me terrifyingly doesn’t care. With each day, I’m becoming more careless, and I have a feeling that it’ll eventually be the death of me.

“I have to tell you something.” Ellis straightens from the doorway, crosses the room, and stops a few steps away from me.

“Will it be something I can understand?” I tip my chin back to look up at him. “Or a puzzle for me to solve?”

He smiles, but his expression carries a trace of pain. “I don’t have to speak in riddles anymore. You can understand me better now.”

“Why? What’s changed? Is it because I’m no longer taking the medication? Did it all finally leave my system and all the crazy is allowing me to fully communicate with you?”

He sighs and sits down on the foot of the bed, leaving a mattress length between us. “Your medication is part of the reason things are getting clearer—your mind is getting clear. And because of that—because you’re starting to remember—I’m finally finding peace in my life.”

He looks utterly miserable. I want to reach out and hug him. I’m afraid to do so, though. Afraid my arms will slip right through him. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m saying,” he sucks in a gradual breath, “that I found my peace in life because soon I won’t be suffering. I almost feel,” his eyes drift to the ceiling, “free.”

Free. Unlike you are now.

Images surface, thick and heavy like dirt.

Ellis can’t breathe.

“How can I help you?” I ask, scooting closer to him. “Tell me what to do.”

“All you can do is remember what is and what will never be.” When his gaze meets mine again, he shifts his weight and extends a hand toward me, but then he notices the ghostliness of his fingers and draws back. “And now I’m going to say goodbye and warn you to get out of Laramie and go some place safe. Some place where you can really hide and never be hurt again.”

My eyes flick to the fresh bruises on my arms then to the open

door of the bedroom. “Is someone coming to get me? The person who left the envelope on my doorstep?”

“Yes, they are. And very soon.” He sighs, his silhouette flickering. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you from what’s coming. I’m just hoping you’ll finally get peace in your life, too. That you’ll let go of the things you couldn’t control and stop blaming yourself. Let go, Emery. Please, let me go. Don’t continue to torture yourself with things you have no control over.”