twenty
“Leo. Please.”- Callisto
Friday Night…
I almost follow Leo's retreating figure, but I stop myself. I tell myself I don’t care that Leo is clearly upset. I tell myself I didn’t see the haunted look in his eyes as if he had seen a ghost.
There’s clearly more to the story than he’s telling me, but that always seems to be the case with Leo.
I can’t deny that he revealed more of himself during our conversation than he ever has.
I am beginning to understand him and the life he chose.
Well, that’s the issue. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.
My heart breaks when I think about a young, scared Leo being cast out of his own home by his parents. I cannot even begin to imagine. My parents may not have always been the most loving or present, but they still provided me with basic life necessities.
I had a roof over my head. There was always food on the table, and they provided me with anything I could ever want.
It makes me realize that maybe Leo and I aren’t so different, after all.
He was homeless, literally, while I have always felt somewhat homeless– like I don’t have a place where I belong.
Those two things are definitely not the same thing, but it helps me bridge the gap between us.
I am exhausted after the events of the day. This single day has stretched into weeks. I’ve belonged to this world my entire life, even if the calendar claims it’s only been mere days. I have experienced the entire range of emotions today, and it has left me physically and mentally drained.
I rub my eyes, the absence of my rings feeling foreign.
I haven't worn them that much lately, and it’s strange.
They had become a part of me, a part of my persona.
This week has stripped me of all my material possessions and forced me to look at myself without anything obscuring my view.
Bare. Raw. In my purest form, and it scares me.
I sigh as I get up from the table. I’m going to go to bed.
I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I hope it may be my freedom.
It’s strange, though. The longer I’m here, the less I think about being free.
At least I’m no longer lonely. I have spent more time around people in the last few days than I have in the last few months combined.
I spent the entire day getting to know Nico.
I met Kiki and Ollie. I talked to Leo for hours, finally getting a glimpse of who he really is, the person he buries deep inside.
I don't know why, but I don't want to go back to my old life.
I was surrounded by meaningless objects there.
I wasn’t important to anyone, and now I am.
I exist in this world, and I’m not sure I can easily let that go.
When I make it to the landing at the top of the stairs, Leo's bedroom door is open. As I get closer, the steady rush of running water echoes from the shower. I peer into the room, my curiosity tamping down my guilt for invading Leo's privacy.
I tell myself that I will leave as soon as the water shuts off, not a moment later.
I know I was in the room earlier, but I was too focused on Leo to notice any real details.
I don't know what I even expect to find, but I can’t stop myself from creeping in, the lamp on the nightstand casting a dim light over the room.
It’s the very same nightstand that has an empty safe hidden underneath.
I snoop around, not finding anything of relevance until I open the other nightstand drawer. Inside I find a leather bound book. It’s too large to be a journal. No. This looks like it may hold pictures or memories, akin to a scrapbook.
To ensure I’m alone, I glance around the room, finding no one.
The sound of running water coming from the bathroom tells me Leo is still in the shower.
I slowly pull the book from its resting spot.
It is much heavier than I expect, the leather soft against my fingertips.
I tell myself that if it is a journal, I will not read it.
I will close it and place it back in the drawer.
I sit it down on the bed, trying to be quiet even though the shower is still running. I ignore the guilt rising in my gut, telling me to put it back. My curiosity wins out. I run a finger over the nondescript cover, then my full hand, the texture of the leather cool under the skin of my palm.
With shaking fingers I pinch the cover, holding my breath as I open it. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe an alarm to sound or anthrax powder to be shot in my face. Perhaps a snake or a spider to jump out at me, but none of that happens. Inside I find newspaper articles.
As I flip through, every single page centers on the exact same person.
Violet Sullivan. Only a few have pictures, but she looks strangely familiar.
She is a pretty girl with long hair. Her hair and eyes look to be on the lighter side.
Most of the articles are about her accomplishments, the honors roll, volunteer work, awards, and her graduation announcement.
It then dawns on me. This is Leo’s sister.
Sullivan is his last name, and that’s why they called him Sully.
This is the sister he said he hadn’t seen for over ten years.
That’s why she looks familiar to me. She looks like him.
Even in the black and white, pixelated images, I can tell they have the same eyes.
My heart stutters in my chest, and my eyes burn with tears.
Leo has kept track of his sister’s accomplishments over the years, and I have no idea what to do with this information.
It touches my heart, and I don't quite understand why.
My hand traces over the text of one particular article, talking about an award Violet received for academic excellence.
I don't understand why someone as bright as this girl in the photos would be working as a maid for someone as disgusting as De Luca.
She should be in college, earning a degree.
It’s strange to me, seeing the girl Leo had been talking about minutes prior.
A sudden jolt of anger shoots through my system, freezing my limbs.
How could someone hurt such an innocent girl?
How could someone take advantage of her and force himself on her?
How could someone like that work with my father?
Perhaps my father doesn't know, but I have the sudden desire to tell him.
To ruin De Luca’s life, but then I remember.
De Luca is dead, his life taken by Leo's hand.
And I am left stuck between what's right and wrong.
I jump at the abrupt clatter of something hitting a wall that comes from Leo's bathroom.
It’s loud, ringing in my ears, as if something was flung against a hard surface.
My heart is in my throat, beating rapidly, threatening to choke me.
With shaky limbs, I quickly put the scrapbook back where I found it, keeping a wary eye on the door, waiting for it to open any minute.
It doesn’t; I can still hear the water running in the shower behind it.
Leo has been in there for a while. Should I be worried?
He could have slipped and fallen, explaining the loud noise that scared the living crap out of me.
Concern shoots through my shaking body at that thought.
I shouldn’t be concerned though, should I?
Shouldn't I be happy that my captor could be lying and bleeding on the bathroom floor?
I’m not, though. In fact, I’m the opposite of happy.
As anxiety churns in my gut, I make my way toward the door on unsteady limbs.
Once I reach it, I press my ear against the cool surface, still hearing nothing but the distinct sound of water running. Anticipation grips me as I hold my breath, my entire body freezing, pressing my ear more firmly against the door.
I concentrate, listening as closely as I can.
Then, the unmistakable sound of gasping breath cuts through the sound of water pounding against the shower wall.
Fear grips me, air leaving my lungs completely, as I try to listen harder.
I know that’s impossible, but I have to try.
I have to know what is going on beyond that door.
I don't know what to do. Should I leave?
Should I go in and check on him? It’s a moral dilemma, and I always felt like I was good at those.
Right now, though, I’m completely unsure of myself.
All I can see is Leo bleeding out from a head injury.
I tell myself that I don't care that Leo killed someone today, and he isn’t deserving of my concern.
Maybe Leo's blood going down the drain like De Luca’s did when it was washed from his killer’s hands is fate's way of providing justice for Leo's misdeed, but I do care.
I care a lot. The very idea of Leo being injured makes me feel like I may vomit and makes my chest feel odd.
I take a deep breath, gripping the handle of the door and twisting it, finding it unlocked. I close my eyes and go in.
When I open the bathroom door, the noises that were on the other side are amplified. My ears perk up, making out the sound of what I had assumed were gasps for air moments ago.
The frosted glass door of the shower is shut, the water running behind it, but there is no steam billowing.
The thick fog on the mirror is dripping down into condensation, the steam that created it long since gone.
I step closer to the shower, listening carefully for any signs of distress.
The sound carries a sense of distress, but not physical pain.
It sounds more like someone trying to suck air in, like Leo is hyperventilating.
I stare at the door for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. I don't think Leo is hurt, physically, so I debate about leaving the bathroom completely. It’s none of my concern, right?
It is, though. My heart hurts with each pained gasp that sounds as though it is ripped from Leo's chest.
I don't know what’s happening. He did leave our discussion fairly quickly, looking haunted, but of course he gave nothing away, no reason as to why he was upset.
I turn to leave. It isn’t any of my business.
If Leo can be heartless and callous, then I can be too.
As soon as I turn, Leo gasps again. It’s gut wrenching, and it forces me to pause. I try to will my feet to move away, to leave the bathroom and let him wallow in the misery of his own creation. I shake my head, taking another deep breath and a step towards the exit.
A dull thudding noise can be heard over the sound of water, as if Leo is hitting something soft repeatedly against the wall.
I stop mid step, blinking back my own tears, as another shooting pain travels through my chest.
My heart has already made its way to Leo, my feet following of their own accord as they step slowly toward the shower door.
I take a deep breath, attempting to prepare myself for what I may find. I slowly open it, my heart beating out of my chest in anticipation, stopping my breath from leaving my lungs. I expect to see Leo as soon as I open the door, but I am met with an empty wall.
I still hear the gasps, disturbed every few seconds by a dull thump, so I look down.
Leo shivers on the shower floor, under the stream of water.
His eyes are shut tight in anguish as he hits his head repeatedly against the wall, arms wound securely around his knees.
He doesn’t seem to notice that I am in the room, but I need to stop him before he hurts himself.
“Leo.” My voice comes out weak, the sound of the shower drowning it out. Leo doesn’t acknowledge me, so I clear my throat. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I have no idea what to say.
All I can do is stare at Leo's naked body as he sits shivering on the floor of his shower.
Water droplets are traveling over his pale skin, down the contours of his body, obscuring some of that tattoos in their wake.
The shaky lines of his trinity knot look almost straight under the refracted light. My heart shatters at the sight.
Leo doesn’t look like the monster I have thought him to be.
No. Not at all. He looks like a scared boy.
The very same one that was kicked out of his parent’s house at the young age of 14.
I can’t stop the images of a life I had never even witnessed from flashing through my mind.
A young, scared Leo, homeless and shivering in the rain, wondering where he will find his next meal.
I blink a few times, shaking my head trying to clear out the image I had created.
“Leo. Please. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” I say softly but loud enough to be heard over the water that is still running. Leo's large body continues to tremble as if he didn’t hear a single thing I said.
I test the temperature of the water. It’s freezing cold.
I turn it off. The sudden absence of the water causes Leo to stop the motion of his head, his gunmetal eyes cracking open in surprise.
Droplets of water cling to his long eyelashes, some falling onto his freckled cheeks every time he blinks, and I briefly wonder if they are tears or if it’s water from the shower.
Human. He is so human it hurts my chest and I forget how to breathe.
“Go away, Callisto. Please.” Leo whispers the words, his voice raw from his panic.
I consider doing as I am asked. Leaving.
My brain screams at me to leave. But my heart– the stupid thing that is beating madly in my chest– is telling me to stay.
It must have control of my body because I cannot force my legs to move.
I cannot look away from the man in front of me.
The man who has pulled his legs even tighter to his chest, the wet hair matted in different directions.
“Just leave me alone. You can walk right out the front door, and I won’t fucking stop you. The keycard to unlock the door is in my pants pocket on the floor. The code is 2254. There aren’t any guards I don’t think. I don’t care. Just go. You shouldn’t have to be around a monster like me.”
Leo’s voice breaks with the last word, the sentence ending on a garbled crack.
He buries his face in his knees, trying to hide himself from the world.
Or perhaps, just hide himself from me. I’m frozen.
Leo told me to leave. To walk out the front door.
To escape. I glance at the discarded jeans lying on the bathroom floor, then back to Leo, who is still weeping, curled into a ball.
“My car keys are also in my pocket. You can override the fingerprint lock on the gate by pressing cancel, enter, cancel, then 0928. Once you’re out of the gate, turn left. Stay on that road, and you’ll eventually end up in the city,” Leo rambles, voice muffled,
but I can tell how tired he is by the sound of it. Like he’s given up.
My head spins with the new information. This is my chance. The one I have been waiting for. I could leave. I could follow Leo's directions and find the nearest cop station then lead them back to Leo. I could save Nico. I could save myself.