The Prelude of Ella and Micha (The Secret 0.5)

I should run back into the house and away from him, but I don’t want to go back into that house. Into her house. Into the quiet. With myself and my stupid all-revealing reflection.

I’m pretty sure I can fly, Ella May.

She thought she could fly.

Why did she think that so much?

I need to understand.

And there might be a way.

“I need to go somewhere,” I say to Micha. “To the party going on. By the bridge.”

Chapter 11

Micha

For the first time in my life, I can’t help Ella. I’m trying the best I can, but she won’t open up to me. Maybe that’s why I drive her to the party, even though it’s clear she’s out of it, either drunk or on something. With the largeness of her pupils, my guess is the latter.

The ride up to the party is agonizingly quiet, nowhere near the comfortable silence we used to share. For most of the journey, Ella stares out the window with her arms crossed, watching the mountains, hills, and then the bridge roll by.

“My mom used to think she could fly,” Ella mutters suddenly as the car reaches the center of the bridge. “She would say so all the time. She even thought she could fly off that bridge.”

I open my mouth to say something, but I have no clue what that something should be. I feel so helpless all the time. I fucking hate it.

“You don’t need to say anything.” She shuts her eyes and rests her head against the window, curling up within herself. “I was just mumbling nonsense.”

My heart is breaking for her. God, I wish it was the only one breaking, wish I could bear her pain. She thinks it’s her fault. She told me that. I’ve told her a thousand times that it’s not, yet I can’t seem to change her mind. Her stupid, asshole father and brother aren’t helping at all, either. Both have put the blame on her.

Fucking bastards.

We make the rest of the drive in silence again. As soon as we arrive at the party, Ella hops out and heads straight for the alcohol. The party is going full force, music blaring, a bonfire blazing in the trees. Half the damn town is here. Mad chaos fills the air, but that’s typical. I used to love it, but right now, I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have brought Ella here.

“We should go to our spot,” I suggest to her an hour into the party, “or somewhere more quiet.”

“You can go wherever you want,” she replies, sipping her beer. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

I frown as I scan the rambunctious crowd, the bonfire, the noise, and then her. Since that night, dark circles have permanently resided beneath those gorgeous eyes of hers. Her skin is pale, and I think she’s been losing weight. I want to call her out on her weight loss, but I’m afraid I’ll push her to the edge.

“I love babysitting you, though,” I attempt to joke like we used to all the time. I drape my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer, refusing to let her out of my sight for the night. “It’s my favorite job in the world.”

She tenses then ducks out from under my arm. “Well, I don’t want you to.” She stumbles away toward the fire, gripping the beer bottle in her hand.

I smash my lips together, my body trembling as I begin to curse the stars above us, only it’s cloudy and I can’t see them. So, instead, I curse the clouds.

Everything seemed absolutely great two weeks ago. I was going to tell Ella how I felt, and it seemed slightly possible that she felt the same way. But everything’s reversing now.

Everything’s gone.

My beautiful, wild, carefree Ella is gone.

I want to cry. Tears are actually starting to sting at my eyes. Unsure I’ll be able to hold them in, I start for my car so I won’t break down in front of half the town.

I make it three steps before someone steps in front of me and blocks my path.

“Hey, Micha.” Some woman who looks vaguely familiar touches my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

I shake my head, annoyed and still on the verge of crying. “Can you move please? I need to get to my car.”

She giggles as she strokes my arm. “Want some company?”

“No.” My tone is clipped.

She presses her chest against mine. “Give me five minutes,” she whispers in my ear. “Bet I can change your mind.”

I remember the last couple of years when I let women distract me from Ella, but the idea of doing so right now seems completely fucking wrong. Plus, I doubt it will help. Nothing will help except getting my Ella back.

Without responding, I dodge around her and hurry for my Chevelle parked out in the midst of a ton of other cars. As soon as I sink into the driver’s seat, I shut the door and let a few tears fall freely. After a few minutes, I collect myself and climb back out to find Ella, who seems to be nowhere. I grow worried as I head for Ethan’s truck where he’s chatting with Renee.

“Hey, have either of you seen Ella?” I jerk my hand through my hair as I scan the throng of intoxicated people, searching for her fiery red hair in the midst.

“Yeah, she took off with Grantford somewhere,” Renee tells me, resting back on her hands. “She told me something about going to the bridge … I don’t know … She seemed pretty out of it.”

My heart slams inside my chest as I recollect what Ella said earlier, how her mom thought she could fly off the bridge.

No … She wouldn’t … Would she?

I don’t think.

I just run to my car and drive like mad toward the bridge.

It starts to rain on my way there. Downpour. Lightning flashes. Thunder grumbles. The scene is like two weeks ago when Ella and I stayed in my car. It feels like an eternity has passed since then, the memory fading. It makes me want to cry again, bawl my fucking heart out until I can’t breathe. But I can’t break down right now, so I drive until I reach the bridge.

The sight knocks the wind out of me. It’s worse than I imagined. Ella’s out on a beam that extends over the blackened water, the rain streaming down from the clouds. All I can think as I hop out of my car and run toward her is that I’m going to lose her.

I can’t lose her.

“Ella, what are you doing?” I shout as I stumble to a halt near the railing and grasp the metal beams of the bridge. “Get down from there. You’re going to hurt yourself.” With little hesitancy, I hoist myself up.

“I don’t think I will,” she insists with her arms stretched out to the side. “I think I might be able to fly … just like her.”