Chapter 34 Kane
KANE
The flight back to Austria was the first time I managed to get any sleep since leaving the island. Delilah’s scent is even more potent with the hood over my head as we drive back to my prison with the memory of my wife clinging to me.
Kid’s things are in the bag next to me, knocking into my thigh with the harsh turns as the tires crunch over the snow.
I forgot to ask Lennox to check on him when we got on the jet, so he’ll probably be asleep.
I’ll figure out a way to wrap them in towels or something so he can unwrap them when he wakes up.
I smile to myself under the hood at the thought of how his face will light up when he sees the jigsaw I found.
He’ll be so damn happy when we put it together, revealing the meadow of butterflies.
With the smell of my wife on my skin, the reminder of how she felt when I held her on the ledge, and the ability to give my boy some normality, I can’t stop smiling.
I slip forward in my seat as the car comes to a sudden stop.
Cold air floods through when the door beside me is tugged and Lennox’s gloved fingers press against the inside of my wrist as he cuts through the zip ties holding them together.
I quickly force my face to be blank in time for the hood to be removed.
Kid is all I can think about. How his face will light up at his very own pajamas.
For once, Rowan isn’t standing at the door to greet us.
I don’t even question it as I enter the cabin, bag in hand.
Either I’m going crazy, or I’m truly fucked up beyond repair as I navigate the strange hallway without any care for the screams for help echoing out of the captive’s cells.
I turn, ready to sneak the gifts into the room.
The door is fucking open.
My heart beats erratically as I enter the room, searching each corner for my kid. The bathroom door is open too. Fucking empty. Looking above the door, I check the light. No color. Unlit. Not white, so he won’t be eating.
“Kid? Are you hiding?” I drop the bag, leaving the room as Lennox follows me with his brows pulling together.
“The locks are still engaged,” he whispers like a useless fucking cunt.
“Kid?” I call out as I walk deeper through the hallway.
Just as I’m about to get closer to the hidden door leading to the canteen, an anguished scream echoes through the concrete hallway.
“Kid!” I run towards the sound. Towards the scream of fucking pain that’s too mature to belong to a boy.
As I get closer, the sound louder, a door clangs and Rowan walks out of the security room. I can’t focus on him with the flickering lights coming from the room, and I don’t know what I expect to see as I brush past him to reluctantly enter.
Pain erupts from deep within my bones at the sight on the screens—my kid laid lifeless on the floor.
There’s blood all over them—all three of them. My kid. With blood on him.
The man is still shackled to the wall as the woman stares at the video of a pregnant woman projected onto the wall. “STOP! Just fucking stop!” she screams louder, her voice cracking. “You sick fucking cunts! What do you want from us?”
My knees tremble as I stumble forward, catching myself against the desk as the projected image flickers from the pregnant woman to my kid in that room.
Alive. He was alive when he walked in. Then the woman, fighting to get a blade from his fist. He turns it on her.
And she smashes his head on the dirty concrete floor.
The same woman who’s sobbing, screaming like she has any right to peace after hurting my boy.
“Don’t look, little shadow,” Lennox whispers as he gently lays his hand on my back, attempting to stop the projection with his other hand on the keyboard.
It keeps flickering over his lifeless body—the pregnant woman, then my kid holding a blade, trying to cut himself.
The pregnant woman in that same concrete room where my kid is now lifeless and bloody.
The pregnant woman, a baby of Kid’s complexion.
More images of a concrete room where he spent his entire life being abused, but he never got to go outside because he’s still in there. Naked, lifeless, bloody.
The female captive crawls on her hands and knees then gently cradles him, slowly rocking him back and forth, fucking touching him when he can’t tell her he wants her to.
I stare at his chest.
Waiting for movement.
Anything to tell me he’ll be okay.
He has to be okay.
She screams with so much anguish, it turns my stomach.
I stumble backwards, knocking Lennox’s hand off me as I refuse to believe their fucking lies. It’s another way they’re tricking me, like the videos of Delilah. It’s not real.
I’m going to go into the room.
And he will fucking be there with a smile on his face.
And my phone will be in his hand.
And we’ll play charades again.
I’ll give him his presents. We’ll go through all of them until he finds his favorite color.
No one is taking my kid away from me.
Rowan isn’t in the hallway as I walk out, holding the wall for support. He wouldn’t be because there’s nothing to see. It’s fake. It has to be fake.
Yeah, it has to be.
Kid’s fine.
Just as I manage to convince myself he’ll be there, Asher’s voice comes out, whispering, “It’s real. You chose Delilah over him.”
“No,” I mumble.
“You did, you left him here so you could see her. It’s her fault.”
“No,” I repeat more forcefully.
I’m numb as I reach my room within this fucking place where the sheets are still rustled from Kid pushing his small body underneath the fleece blanket.
“Kid?” I whisper as I slam the door behind me, searching behind it. “You can stop hiding now. Come on, we’ll play charades.”
No answer.
“Please, can you come out?” I drop to my knees and look under the bed, even though there’s nothing obstructing it as I knock in our secret sequence. “I’ve thought of a good one this time.”
No fucking answer. No sound. Nothing.
There isn’t enough strength in my limbs for me to stand so I crawl along the floor, examining every inch of space like he can hide in thin air. The space under the chair isn’t big enough to hide him but I push it out of the way as I call, “Kid?”
He’ll be in the bathroom. I told him to hide in there, and he forgot to close the door.
“He would come out when you call him,” Asher says.
“Fuck you,” I grit as I climb to my feet. “Come out, Kid. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
When I enter the bathroom, it’s empty too. Other than my t-shirt folded on the closed toilet lid with the socks I left him neatly placed on top. My bottom lip trembles. I can’t fucking breathe as I carefully lift them.
“Kid?”
I turn in a circle then walk to the bed with my feet weighted.
There’s a small dent in the pillow, like he’s going to come back to lay his head in the same position he always does.
The pillow is waiting for him just like I am, but he’s not going to come back.
My body crumples in slow motion until I’m kneeling beside the bed.
I rest my hand on the sheets, but there’s a thin rectangular lump.
I slowly push it up until my phone pokes out of the gap between the sheets and the mattress.
The screen automatically unlocks, a small preview box of the gallery shows his little smiling face, blurring as a silent sob chokes me.
I click on it, fighting the tremors taking over me to hear his giggling break through my sorrow.
He’s fucking giggling as he pulls funny faces to himself in one of my t-shirts.
“Kane, look! I can do it.” More giggles.
“I can see, Kid,” I whisper.
“Okay, it’s my turn,” he says, holding up two fingers.
“Two words.”
He nods like he can hear me, bringing the camera down so it’s under his chin, holds the tip of his nose, then flares his nostrils as he pulls his nose up.
“Dark holes,” he exclaims, laughing louder.
Kid’s funny faces slow down like he’s lost in thought.
It takes a moment for him to begin speaking again, but it’s slower, quieter as he stares at a butterfly on the bottom of the screen.
“I hope you come back. I like sleeping on the bed. Sometimes I get scared, now that you’re not here.
I didn’t like it when they touched me.” My chest aches as he smiles.
“You’re my first friend. I hope Delilah is my second friend. ”
Within a split second, he turns from a normal boy to a terrified child at the loud knock on the door. The screen turns black, still recording for me to hear Rowan say, “It’s time for a welcome party, sweet boy.”
Kid robotically answers, “Yes, Master.”
There’s another thud then rustling that makes my stomach turn as the phone is pulled from under the sheets.
Thankfully, he’s alone. His chin is tucked to his chest and he doesn’t look at the butterflies as he whispers, “Hi, Kane. You said you don’t know how to explain a promise.
I do. It’s like you. It leaves.” He looks up, giving me one last small smile. “Bye. You won’t see me again.”
I broke my fucking promise.
I left him alone. I went to Delilah, now…
My head drops to the still-warm bed. It’s warm. I could have helped him. I should have kept my promise. I was selfish. I chose her—myself—over a promise to Kid. Now he’s gone.
There’s more rustling through the speaker as he hides the phone, then his small footsteps go into the bathroom. Something clatters through the speaker, but I can barely hear it over the sound of my sobs echoing in the space between my arms as I wrap them around my head.
His footsteps come closer, before he whispers, “I wish you kept your promise. I can do the trick though. Thank you for teaching me I don’t need to let it happen. And for letting me see the butterflies.”
My head snaps up. I snatch my phone, scrubbing the recording back to watch it again because he sounds stronger. My eyes widen in the black strips at the top of the screen when he opens his mouth to place a razor blade against his cheek. A razor blade I fucking hid.
I half-crawl, half-run into the bathroom to check the side of the sink for the razor blade I tucked between the porcelain and the steel support. It’s not fucking there. I fucking killed him. I killed Kid. I gave him the fucking blade!
No.
It has to be there.
I grip the steel legs and pull.
The porcelain screeches, tile cracking as I keep fucking pulling in search for the fucking blade I left.
I didn’t kill him.
I didn’t.
My need for pain, to hide I’m weak isn’t the fucking reason he’s not here.
But the sink is pulled from the wall.
And shards of porcelain scatter against the floor.
And water spurts from the exposed pipe.
There’s still no blade.
Losing the battle with my stomach, I fold in half as I hold the wall. Bile burns up the back of my throat, my nose stings, my tears mix with my vomit. None of it, fucking nothing at all compares to the reality of Kid not being here.
When my stomach is empty, I cup my hand in front of the broken pipe and wash my face, resolved in the decision I’ve made. My body moves strangely, like time has stopped, increasing the gravitational force as I walk into the room, staring at the small indent on the pillow.
He’s never going to lay on that pillow or sit in the chair while I cut his hair.
I stand on it now, desecrating the memory of how he quietly waited for me to do his hair as I pull my belt free then hook it over one of the exposed pipes.
My hand moves mechanically until I’ve formed a noose, the small indent on the pillow blurring as I push my head into the loop.
“I’m sorry, Kid.” Then I step forward, into the air. “I’m sorry, Delilah.” I choke.
The guilt weighing my body down works in my favor as dark spots pull pieces of Kid away.
The recording plays on a loop, providing his giggles as I continue choking.
The drop isn’t severe enough to kill me straight away, so I’m forced to hear how deeply I fucked up as I wait for it to end with all my fucking wrongs plaguing me.
Life is supposed to flash before my eyes, replaying happy memories, achievements.
All I’ve fucking achieved is hurting the two people who didn’t deserve it.
“You’re my first friend.” Kid’s voice echoes around the fucking room as I will my body to die quicker so that can be the last thing I hear instead of how I let him down.
The heavy steel door slams as pressure builds behind my eyes. Just as I’m about to pass out, my weight is pulled up.
“Not like this, little shadow. Not here.”
I try to kick out of Lennox’s arms but my body is depleted, and he manages to lift me out of the loop of the belt. I drop my weight down, sinking to the floor as sob after fucking sob roll out of me. Different waves of grief and guilt, washing over each other, getting bigger with each pull.
Lennox follows me down, wrapping his arms around me, muffling my cries as he pulls me into his chest like I’m a fucking child.
“Shhh, I’m here,” he whispers.
“Let me go.”
“Not here.”
“I fucked up.”
“Don’t talk.” He reaches to the side, turning off the recording before Rowan’s voice can come through.