shred my hope, as if slashing that grotesque sabre right through my thread.
I squeezed my eyes shut and saw the images in the video. It could be convincing, actually. Quite convincing. Especially with the Amadis mark on the hostage’s chest. And his voice…beautiful and horrible at the same time… screaming my name.
“It’s not him,” I whispered again. Even I could hear the doubt in my voice. I shook my head. “No. It’s not him. I won’t believe it!”
I felt something inside me start to crack, about to break. Probably break me down for good. Psycho Alexis tried to work her way in, blackening my heart and my thoughts with grief and anger. Then a rough growl in the back of my mind marked Evil Alexis also wanting to take control. I shook my head again, more violently this time.
I just need to feel you again. I know you’re there.
Then a thought occurred to me, rushing me to the back of my walk-in closet. I pulled out his bag, tore open the zipper and stuffed my face inside, inhaling deeply, trying to smell him, to bring back his memory, to feel him and know he still lived. The scent was so faint. After wearing his shirts every night for over a year, I’d finally packed them in here, his scent washed out of them.
Feeling his physical presence with each touch of his belongings, I rummaged through the contents. Papers and keys for the beach house lay at the bottom of the bag. The letters I’d written every year on our anniversary were in there, too. Letters where I reminded him of his promise and where I made my own promise—that I would come for him after the Ang’dora if he didn’t come back first. Letters I could never send. I read them twice and my chest, where my heart should have been, throbbed with pain. Then I came across the envelope he’d given me at the safe house. I had never bothered to open it.
I ripped through the envelope. It contained some important looking documents I couldn’t focus on and a car title—the title to his Ferrari Spider, signed over to me, as if he’d known he wouldn’t make it back. His Ferrari. Since we’d had it in the Keys with us on our honeymoon, it hadn’t exploded with the rest of his belongings when the Daemoni blew up his house. We had used it as our escape car to the safe house. He had flashed away when he left the final time, leaving it behind.
I knew the Ferrari sat in the extra garage. Not knowing I even had the title to it, I’d never done anything with the ostentatious sports car. I could never bring myself, through all these years, to even look at it. I knew Owen, along with Dorian (he loved his daddy’s car), took it for a spin every now and then and kept it maintained. Mom kept the tags and insurance up-to-date.
I dashed to the extra garage. There it sat, red and shiny like new, obnoxious and beautiful as ever. Owen had taken good care of it. I circled the car, running my fingers over the horse emblem just as I had the first time I’d seen it, and stopped at the driver’s side door. This was not my side. I’d never driven the thing. I took a deep breath, popped the door open and slid inside. My hands caressed the tan leather seat and steering wheel, trying to feel Tristan’s presence. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, imagining that I could feel him sitting here right where I sat, his warmth and power surrounding me. And I felt even more convinced he was not in that video, his voice was edited in…they did not kill him years ago. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, my arm crossed against my stomach, focusing on the conviction. It’s not him.
Then I suddenly had the incredible urge to go again. The need overwhelmed me. I frantically searched the workshop bench in the garage and finally found the key in a drawer. I left, pealing out of the driveway.
Driving felt good. Driving fast felt amazing. I sped down the highway, wondering if I drove as fast as he did. My senses felt so keen, so alert, I didn’t feel like the car moved very fast as I weaved around traffic on the interstate. The needle on the speedometer hovered at 110. I drove for nearly an hour and headed home when the gas gauge fell to a quarter-tank…and only then because I hadn’t brought my purse.
What is wrong with me? Insane impulses were taking over my life. I’d been bad before, really bad, but never like this. The messed-up dreams…the anger and irritability…the impulses…the physical urges…the hallucinations…the voices…and now the fake video. Everything crashed down on me at once. I considered again that I was finally losing it. Mom must have thought the same thing.
“Maybe you need some time away,” she said when I returned. “A change of scenery…”
“And where do you suggest I go?” I snarled. “The demons are inside my head, Mom. I can’t get away from them.”
She cringed. The words had come out of my mouth before I even knew what I said.
“Actually, that’s what concerns me,” she said, shocking me.
Then I realized the truth of her meaning. I instantly became irate, with an overwhelming urge to throw it all in her face—letting her know exactly what she’d produced with her little romp in the sack with the evil sperm donor. Her intentions may have been to save him, but she lost him…and now she might possibly be losing me.
“Oh, are you afraid the Daemoni inside of me is finally coming out?” I sneered. “Maybe your little miracle isn’t so good after all.”
“Alexis!”
“What does it matter anyway? They’ve totally mind-fucked us! The Daemoni…even the Amadis! They just use us! And now look. They’ve destroyed us instead! Him. Me. We’re useless.”
“Alexis Katerina! You really need to get yourself under control. I will not talk to you until you become rational.”
I burst into laughter.
“Rational?” I asked between chortles. “That’s a good one, Mom!”
She narrowed her eyes, turned on her heel and stomped away. The urge to run—run away from it all— came over me. So I did. I threw on my new clothes and shoes and ran for miles. I didn’t know how my body survived. Just a few days ago it was a lump of old, tired lard that hadn’t moved more than necessary from bed to chair to bed again. Now, on such little sleep and no food—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten—it felt strong and wired with energy.
But I couldn’t run far enough. I couldn’t run far enough away from my shitty life. I couldn’t run far enough to get to Tristan…to know for sure.
As I ran, I decided Mom was right. I just needed to get away for a while. Really be by myself and try to straighten my head out. Like so many irrational ideas, this one made perfect sense right now. I ran home, showered and packed.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked from my bedroom doorway.
“Packing. I’m going away, like you said.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant….”
“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I do need time away.”
She came in and sat on my bed, watching me as I purposefully moved between closet, bathroom and bed, where my suitcase lay open.
“Where are you going?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you when I get there.” I dumped an armful of clothes into the suitcase.
“Alexis…”
I stopped and looked at her. “Just take care of Dorian for me, please.”
“Of course. But I really don’t think you should be alone right now, especially after seeing—”
“That’s exactly why—” I cut myself off. I realized the video caused this pull to leave, creating a more intense need than ever to feel his physical presence. But she wouldn’t understand, or, if she did, she’d never let me go. Not that I’d really be alone anyway. She’d never allow it. I took a different direction with her. “I think being alone is exactly what I need. I haven’t been alone for…forever. I’ve felt alone. But there’s always been someone nearby, keeping me from completely letting it all out. Maybe being alone and facing these demons by myself…getting it all out once and for all…is what I need. I don’t know. I just know I need to go.”
I didn’t wait for her response. Nothing she said would stop me. Well, nothing would stop Swirly, anyway. She was obviously in charge right now. I went into my office and packed my laptop and chargers and anything else I would need. Then I went to say good-bye to Dorian.
“Are you going with Dad?” Dorian asked.
“What?” I stared at him in shock.
“His car is outside,” he explained with his six-year-old logic. He glanced out his bedroom window at the
