Epilogue II
YALE - SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
“He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Zayden says as we scan the crowds of dressed-up kids.
We’re surrounded by goblins, ghosts, witches, skeletons, mainly kids with their parents, some teenagers just looking to cause trouble.
My skull mask is dangling from my fingers, because wearing it made it difficult to find Xavier.
“Who knew morphine would make him all weird?”
Z grins. “Can’t wait to remind him of this tomorrow. There he is!”
Zayden sprints off, weaving between creatures of the night, just in time to reach Xavier before he smashes a pumpkin.
Our brother tackles him to the ground, both landing on someone’s front yard, both laughing hysterically.
I cackle, about to join them and drag X’s ass home, when someone passes in front of me.
“Sorry,” I say, backing up.
The blonde girl, about my age, nods and glances at me quickly. “It’s fine.”
She hurries by, bookbag over her shoulder, long hair hiding most of her face—but I spot the bruise below her eye.
I stare after her, knowing she’ll soon get swallowed up by the crowd, and something in my chest tells me not to let that happen. Someone else bumps into her, and she keeps her head down—and then, sure enough, she’s gone.
“Let’s go home,” Zayden says from beside me. Xavier is over his shoulder, giggling, eating candy out of a bag he likely stole from some poor kid.
“I’m gonna stick around,” I say.
Zayden pulls a face. “Why? What are you looking at?”
“Nothing, just … I’ll be home later, okay? Cover for me.”
My brother shrugs. “Ready, X?”
“I want to chase pumpkins!” he grumbles back, and I laugh as Zayden breaks into a sprint, our brother bouncing on his shoulder, laughing loudly.
Once I’m alone, I head in the direction of the girl. She was walking relatively quickly, but she was also tiny, so she can’t have gotten too far. I glance across the street, pausing as a pack of giggling gargoyles run by me.
I spot a glimpse of blonde hair as she rounds a corner.
Pulling on my mask, I take off after her. By the time she’s in full view of me, she’s taking out keys and going into a house.
What is my plan, exactly? Even if she hadn’t gone inside, I wouldn’t speak to her. I don’t even know what I’d say. I’m fourteen. I’m not exactly good at talking to anyone, let alone girls. Xavier’s better at it than me. Maybe he should be here instead.
Still, I approach the house, passing by it once to look through the window. The girl moves through what looks like a living room, tying her hair up as she goes. Her arms are bruised, too.
Does she do sports or something?
She looks too frail for that, though.
Double-checking that I’m not being watched, I sneak down the side of the house, to a kitchen window, and I watch her.
She’s warming up a TV dinner, shoulders low. Now I’m closer, I spot bruises on her neck, too. Small ones, but they look painful.
I lean closer, eager to see her eyes, to find out what color they are—and my forehead connects with the window.
“Shit.” I drop down, pulling my legs in and tucking myself under the window ledge.
Great fucking job, Yale.
A few minutes pass, and I’m sweating, wondering if I’m about to get arrested or the crap beaten out of me for looking through a window.
It’s weird. Why am I being weird?
The light goes out, so I pop back up, moving around the house to try and spot her again.
I’m all the way on the other side of the property when I see her.
She’s in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, TV dinner on the nightstand.
She’s scribbling in a notebook, tongue between her lips, pencil moving fast.
She’s so pretty.
Like, really pretty.
I can’t believe I’ve never seen her before, but we’re never really on this side of town. I might come back, though.
She tucks her hair behind her ear and chews on the end of the pencil, wearing down the eraser until a pink chunk of it is sitting on her bottom lip.
I swallow, my throat drying, because I wonder what it’s like to kiss her.
I’ve never kissed anyone.
Her bedroom door flies open, and I drop to my knees, banging my head in the process. I wince, touching the spot, hoping it’s not bleeding.
My pain is forgotten when I hear her scream.
I stand so fast my head spins, and I watch in silent horror as a man grabs the girl by the hair and pulls her off the bed. He’s screaming at her, shaking her notebook in her face.
“Why do I bother training you if you eat this shit!” he bellows, kicking her nightstand over, the TV dinner splattering across the carpet. “You’re special, Silence. You’re special, and you’re wasting your fucking life!”
He slaps her. The sound feels loud even from here, and I wince, looking away.
My gaze fixes on nearby shrubbery, but it feels almost like I’m abandoning her by not witnessing her pain. Whoever she is, she’s clearly alone, and she shouldn’t be. I drag my attention back to her and watch as he seizes her hair and yells in her face.
This doesn’t happen in real life. It’s a movie thing, right? My parents have never hurt me. They yell, sure, and I get grounded, but … he’s hurting her.
A lot.
I sprint to the front door and start hammering on it.
I’ve got no idea what I’m gonna do or say. He’ll probably beat me up, too. But I know I need to stop it, ’cos no one should get hurt like that.
The door is wrenched open, the man breathless and furious. “Who the fuck are you?”
I freeze. I can see what I think is the girl’s door, still open, but then it slowly closes. Does that mean he’s done? Will he leave her alone?
“Uh … trick or treat.”
“Get the fuck off my property.” He slams the door in my face.
My heart rattles in my chest, and as I slink off the porch, I pull my mask off. My skin is sticky with sweat, and I go back to the girl’s window.
Did he call her Silence?
She’s curled up on the bed, arms wrapped around herself, and I don’t know if she’s moving.
What if she’s dead? Or dying?
What do I say to the police? That I was spying on a girl and watched her dad beat her?
“This is some Xavier shit,” I grumble as I grip the window. “This isn’t Yale activity.”
I shove the window up and put my leg through the gap, ducking until I’m inside.
This is so fucking illegal.
Creep and burglar in the same night.
The thought reminds me that I’ve taken my mask off, so I pull it back on. Every step closer to the bed feels like I’m securing a juvie record, but I’ll just check that she’s breathing, and then I’ll go home and forget she ever existed.
Once I reach the bed, I crouch. Her eyes are closed, tears clinging to her lashes, the start of a bruise across her cheek. One to join so many others.
She’s breathing.
I’m so relieved that I straighten up and sit in a chair in the corner. My mask is sticking to my face, my heart still beating too fast.
But she’s alive.
So I can go now.
Except, I don’t.
I watch her, worried that maybe her breathing might stop, or that her dad will come back. I don’t know what I’d do if he did, but I also don’t want to leave.
Terror spikes across my skin when she opens her eyes.
Brown. Her eyes are brown. Not the first thought I should have, though. I should be fucking launching myself through the window and running for my damn life, but I don’t move, and neither does she.
She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.
My heart rate slows, but I still don’t stand. I don’t leave. I settle back into the chair and I watch her, promising myself to do this only once.
One night of Silence, whoever she is.