Lost Boy

I shoot a quick thank you text to Stephan for all his help, then slip my phone onto the bedside table, knowing the battery will be dead before he can reply.

I keep my shoes on and lay on top of the duvet, thinking about everything that’s happened. Charlotte's eyes shine with tears. “The detective asked me about him,” she croaks. “About Jack.” She swipes at her disheveled hair cobwebbing her face.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins. My head throbs, my pulse rushing all the blood too fast. “Don’t, Char.” Polo, polo, polo.

“Who was he to you, Liz?”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Please don’t.”

“Just tell me,” she pushes.

“Jack was my best friend,” I blurt out. It feels so good to say those words out loud. The weight on my chest becomes slightly lighter.

“You know about Jack,” I lie, trying to get her to drop it. She hears my nightmares.

Sighing, she rolls onto her back, fixating on a black smudge on the ceiling. “I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me.”

Clutching the duvet in my fist to protect my palms, I let the memories wash through me. Maybe I owe her information. If this is all happening because of me—because of who I am—who I knew… “We were so young,” I sigh, “but we had a connection so strong. We relied on each other. Needed to be in each other’s presence.” We needed each other, like flowers need the sun. Her hand reaches across the space between us, taking mine, untangling it from the duvet, and entwining our fingers.

“Everyone expects me to forget him—we were so young—but I can’t. He was my best friend. The memories of him call out to me, live within me. They’re a part of me.”

“You still miss him?”

I look to her, pain pouring from my eyes. “I’ll always miss him—always be living in his echo.” Pulling my hand from hers, I turn on my side, willing sleep to take me. Silence lingers until she speaks again, soaking me in the guilt of being so lost. Jack wasn’t the only one who became lost that day—I was stolen too.

“I know you’ve been through something horrible and what you allow yourself to tell me is just the tip of the iceberg, but you can’t drown in the muddy water of your past, Liz. You’ve got to let people in. I love you. Stephan loves you. This coldness you throw out will push people away. Let us love you.”

Her words chip away at my wall, and silent tears fall, soaking into the crappy pillow. Been through something horrible? Is that all it is?

“Night, Char. I know you say I’m cold, but I love you too.”ElevenWaking with a stiff neck my broken nails attempt to scratch my itching skin, flinching at the red welts risen there, no doubt from being eaten by bed bugs all night. Shuddering I go to the bathroom and relieve my bladder, hovering over the seat so I don’t catch anything from it. My reflection irks me when I catch a glimpse of myself while washing my hands. Almost catatonic like I find myself staring at the pale complexion in the mirror. Dark half-moons sit under my eyes. The yellow, dull light flickers on and off, a buzzing sound coming from the bulb. Trying to summon the courage to face the day, I wake Charlotte. “We should see if we can go back to our apartment today. We need clothes. We have school and work.”

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she stretches her limbs and grabs her cellphone. “It’s six a.m.” She winces.

“I know. Do you think it’s shitty of me to call Stephan for a ride?”

“I think it’s shitty of you to wake me up at six a.m.,” she scoffs, handing me her phone. “Call him.”Handing Charlotte a breakfast bar from the vending machine, I unwrap my own and gag as the dry oats stick to the roof of my mouth. The thick tar coffee burns my gums as I attempt to wash the breakfast away.

Throwing them both in the trash, I grab Charlotte’s before she can bite hers.

“Hey!” she screeches, reaching for it.

“Trust me.” I shudder.

Stephan’s car pulls up, and Charlotte races to take the front seat.

“Hey.” He smiles at me in the rearview mirror as I climb in the back.

“Hey. Thanks again for the room.” I try to smile back, but my face feels frozen in a permanent glower.

“It reminded me of my prom night.” Charlotte sighs. It only took her five hours of sleep to bounce back to the Charlotte we know and love.

Ignoring that statement, Stephan asks me, “Where to?”

“Our apartment, please.”

“Have the police contacted you?” he asks, turning over the engine.

“No.” I play with the sleeves of my top, a pain in my stomach.

The ride is silent, a doom looming in the air, the darkness of what we’ve witnessed clouding all thoughts and conversations.