46. 46 – Zella
T he rush of cold air sweeps over my face. Autumn is well and truly fading now, melting away to the frosty bite of winter, but I can’t bring myself to close my little doors. I’m huddled in the bed of my original room, but sleep is a long way off.
I can’t close my eyes, the thoughts tumbling inside my head far too turbulent for that.
It’s late, late enough that I should have been asleep by now. Giving up on that idea, I sit up in a huff. My eyes slide to the open door.
Maybe a walk would help.
I debate just going to the main door, but Maverick might still be awake. He’s been working late every night, trying to dig up any information he can on Ethan, and where he might be hiding.
My throat tightens. I’m not sure I want them to find him.
I’m not sure I’m ready for what might happen if they do.
This time, at least, I take a moment to pull a thick sweater over my head. I slide my feet into sneakers, carefully tying the laces the way Ryder taught me, looping the bunny ears and tying them into a knot.
It’s harder than I thought to descend the wooden slats with shoes on, and I choke as my foot slips, nearly sending me tumbling to the ground. My shoulders slump in relief when I finally land with a thump on the hard ground.
The golden reds of autumn have faded, leaving wilted leaves and bare branches in their place. The moon overhead is bright enough to see by, and I make my way down the same path as before, lost in my own thoughts.
It’s hard to reconcile a lifetime of memories with the knowledge I now hold. I had four years of life, real life, with a mother and father who loved me, before I was ripped away and placed in that apartment. And I don’t remember any of it.
All I remember are white walls, silent sculptures, and Ethan.
“Why did you do it?” I ask out loud. Only the wind answers me, a whistle that lifts my hair. The trees creak and crack in the breeze. It has no answers for me.
And I think that’s what I’m struggling with the most. I might never get those answers.
Sighing. I turn back for the house. Twigs crunch beneath my feet, and there’s a crack ahead of me. I glance up, in case a branch has broken.
“Zella.”
Frowning, I squint. A dark, bulky shadow leans against a tree ahead of me.
“Ryder?” I call. Maybe he followed me again.
I tug at my sweater. “At least I’ve got clothes on this time,” I say playfully.
But there’s silence. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and my feet slow. “Enzo?”
The figure splits from the tree, and I take a step back as it moves closer. The light from the moon crosses the shadow’s face, and my heart stops in my chest.
“Ethan?” I breathe. I blink, just to make sure I’m not imagining him.
Because why would he be here ?
He pauses a few feet away from me, his hands out in front of him. This man is a far cry from the Ethan I know. He looks filthy, his hair dark and matted, and his usually spotless clothes are worn and crumpled.
I take a step back, and his jaw tightens. “Zella. I just want to talk.”
My head whips from side to side. Ethan is blocking the path back to the house, and I suddenly regret my impulsiveness. Maverick told me. Told me not to leave without one of them, and now I’m here.
And they’re not.
Heaviness settles in my stomach, icy cold washing over my skin.
I shake my head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I breathe. He takes another step, and I back away. “You need to leave.”
“Zella.” His face creases with pain. “I didn’t mean… I don’t want to scare you.”
“So you come here?” I force out. “At night? How did you even find me?”
“The festival,” he says roughly. “I saw you there, and I followed you back. They didn’t see me, but I was there.”
My throat tightens. “You’ve been here? All this time?”
Hiding. Watching. Revulsion washes over me, my breathing so rapid I think I might pass out. Questions pound in my brain, too many to form a single one.
“Why?” I croak finally. Ethan watches me silently, his head tilted. “Why did you do it? The fire?”
He inhales. “So you know, then.”
When I nod, he sighs. “I never meant for that to happen, Zella. I just wanted to speak to Maria, but she was so angry. She wouldn’t come when I asked her, when I begged her. I knew her better than she knew herself. I knew where she needed to be.”
His face twists in revulsion, his fingers tapping against his leg. “She needed to be with me.”
His voice twists, going higher as I watch him in disbelief.
This is the real Ethan. I can feel it. This bitter, twisted creature.
And he was right.
This world has truly opened my eyes to what evil looks like.
It looks like him. I just never knew any better.
“But you…,” he breathes, stepping closer. “You were so perfect, Zella. So pure. They hadn’t twisted you yet, hadn’t molded you. I knew I could shape you into perfection, and I did. I did .”
“You caged me,” I snap. “Like an animal, Ethan. You murdered my mother !”
My voice raises in a shout, and his face darkens. “I released her,” he snarls. “I took her from that place, and I freed her, Zella. I sculpted her with my own hands, and she was perfect, then.”
My legs shake underneath me as his words filter through. “What do you mean, Ethan?” I whisper. My lips feel dry, my head light and dizzy. “How did you free her? She died in the fire.”
Ethan twists away from me, pacing. Slowly, I take another step back, and then another. He doesn’t notice, lost in his own ranting.
“They had no idea,” he snarls. “They saw a fire, and a body, and they didn’t think to look beyond that. But she came, in the end. She followed, for you.”
Bile stings my throat. “She went with you,” I whisper. “She didn’t die in the fire. So where is she?”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh, Zella. Innocent, na?ve little Zella.”
My hands twist into fists. “Where is she?” I scream. The noise shocks him, and he stumbles back.
A creeping, horrific thought is hovering at the back of my mind. I shove it away, hoping, praying that it’s my twisted imagination at play and not the truth.
Ethan straightens, tugging at the ends of his sleeves in a familiar move that jolts at me. “Such a beautiful collection, I had, Zella. All of them, so perfect.”
Nausea surges, and I twist, losing the contents of my stomach. A hand lands on my back, and I jerk away, losing my balance and scrabbling over the ground to put distance between us.
“Maria.” My face feels frozen. “Maria.”
My only companions. My only friends. And the whole time…
My mind feels sluggish, slow, as Ethan comes up to me. I try to push away from his grip, but he holds my face up, turning it from side to side.
“You were my proudest achievement,” he murmurs. “Absolute perfection. Untouched. So pure in body and mind, Zella.”
He shoves my face away, and it hits the ground, sending a searing pain through my cheek as I cough.
“Ruined!” he roars, and I shrink away as he stalks me. “By them . You let them touch you. Let them defile you.”
“Dante,” I blurt, and he stops. “Who was he?”
Ethan is breathing hard. “He was sleeping in the warehouse underneath. Some junkie. So desperate for a fix, he didn’t even notice what he was taking when I handed him the syringe.”
“Psyche,” I whisper. “Cupid?”
He laughs, a shrill, piercing sound that curdles my stomach. “Oh, they were beautiful. They thought they’d found a little love nest, those two. The young love of teenagers. So I gave them one. Together forever.”
He advances on me. “I gave them all exactly what they needed,” he murmurs. “They didn’t thank me for it. They had no idea. But genius always goes unrecognized.”
I’m going to be sick again, and I breathe deeply, trying to stop my head from swimming. Piercing pain rings through my face, courtesy of my little trip to the hard ground. “How?” I ask roughly. “How did you do it?”
“I had a workspace,” he murmurs, almost dreamily. “Such a beautiful workspace, Zella. And so close, right underneath you. I was always so close to you. I never really left, apart from my little trips abroad.”
His hand finds the top of my head again, and he strokes my hair, almost reverently. “You’re a masterpiece, Zella,” he whispers. “And it’s time to come home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I force out, and his grip on my hair tightens.
“No more of this. I have a new place now, Zella. I had to start again, but we can do it together. You’ll be right there, in the middle of it this time. I have the perfect pose in mind.”
My shoulders start to curl over. I know exactly what he means.
And if I leave now, I will never escape again.
One of his statues. Forever.