Chapter 6
THE SCREAM OF DEATH
ZANDER
Briar takes a deep breath across from me as we reach the peak of the Ferris wheel, only exhaling as our gondola stops moving. They let each car sit up here for two minutes. Photo opportunities, of course.
“There’s actually something I wanted to tell you.” Her face is paler than ever, which is saying something, given how light her lilac skin is on the regular.
Is she finally going to tell me that she’s not Blair?
I nod, encouraging her. “What is it?”
Hope, desire, and borderline desperation fill me. Please let this game of pretend come to an end so I can tell you how I really feel, Briar. This would be the perfect spot for my declaration, with a view of the town where we grew up, surrounded by a forest of her favorite trees.
As her mouth opens, she freezes entirely. There’s no twitch to her tall, pointy ears, no rise or fall to her chest. She doesn’t even pick at her cuticles. She’s completely still.
Oh no.
Her jaw lowers inhumanly, and she doesn’t stare at me anymore. She looks out the window, lost in the distance of the fair.
The sound she makes is something I’ve heard before, but not for a very long time. The high-pitched screech that leaves the widened gap between her lips pierces the air.
It takes everything in me not to react as it nearly deafens me. I know Briar is sensitive about the scream, and I don’t want her to feel insecure because of me.
All the mumbled chatter below has come to a stop. As I gaze down through the window of the gondola, I see that all eyes are on us. More specifically, on Briar.
And I just know she hates it.
I quickly slide to the edge of the gondola, gripping the railing and leaning over it to yell, “Get us down from here!”
Thankfully, the ride operator doesn’t hesitate to listen, and the ride spins again. It doesn’t stop for the gondolas behind us to have their moment at the top—they can have it later—my only priority is getting Briar off of the ride and somewhere private.
When we’re low enough to the ground that she can no longer see whoever triggered her banshee scream, her eyes dart over to me. She flushes red as she regains control, the scream dying in her throat.
As the gondola stops at the bottom, I open my mouth, but she’s gone in an instant, racing out and through the crowd. It takes me a second to fully grasp what’s going on before I take off after her, weaving through the sea of staring people.
She’s a blur ahead of me, that scurry-like run much faster than I would expect. I have to channel my former track-running days just to keep her in sight.
It’s easy to keep track of her once we leave the fairgrounds and she makes a dash into the wisteria forest that surrounds the town. While the forest’s canopy is basically solid with the branches of the trees touching, their bases are quite far apart, giving me a perfect view of her fleeing form.
Her long, icy-lavender hair flows behind her like a veil, and her darker clothes pop against the vibrant colors of the woods.
If the circumstances were different, I would pull out my phone and take a picture of her.
The way the trees bend above her, paired with the perfection of the colors of her skin and hair, is breathtaking.
But she’s crying, and all I want to do is console her.
“Br—” I choke, nearly calling her by her actual name, before yelling, “Blair, just stop running!”
Thankfully, she does, but she doesn’t turn to face me. Her back shudders as she cries silently, her arms both pulled in front of her. I keep moving toward her, gently placing my hand on her shoulder when I reach her.
With a gentle nudge, I turn her to face me. Her hands are over her face, one covering her eyes while the other is clamped over her mouth.
I want to wrap my arms around her, pull her close and hold her. Tell her it’s all okay. But this doesn’t feel like the right moment. She doesn’t know yet that I know she’s Briar—even though this is another dead giveaway.
Blair has never cared about people’s reactions to her banshee scream. Briar does, though. She doesn’t want to frighten people. She wants to blend in and go unnoticed, something that’s impossible for her anyway with how radiant her beauty is.
Weakly and through sobs, she mutters a few words. “Leave me alone, please.”
“The scream, it doesn’t bother me. It never has.” I try to comfort her, but she keeps her hands over her face.
She shakes her head, her palms moving to press into her eyes as she wipes away the tears frantically. Her breathing is rapid and irregular, her chest rising and falling so fast that to anyone else, they might think she just ran a competitive sprint.
“It’s not just the scream,” she says, her eyes so glossy they reflect sunlight that leaks through the petals above. “That’s not the only reason I’m crying. It’s me. It’s me for so many reasons.”
I stay where I am, even if my heart longs to go soothe her. All I want to do is tell her that I know it’s her, but she needs to admit that herself. Maybe this is the moment I was hoping for at the top of the Ferris wheel. There’s no one around to distract or upset her—except for me, I suppose.
Gently, I ask, “What about you?”
She takes a deep breath, her hands clasping in front of her as her fingers get to work picking at any dryness around her nails, a nervous habit she’s always had.
“I’m not Blair…I’m Briar. And I’m so sorry I lied to you.
I don’t know why I did it. I just, my brain stopped working when I saw you, and then I didn’t know how to fix it.
And when I did try to fix it, the scream… ”
As tears stream down her cheeks, I can’t help the little chuckle that leaves me.
Her breathing seems to calm instantly, and she takes a shaky breath. “What’s so funny?”
So, she really has no idea about my feelings, otherwise, she would know that I could never get her and Blair confused.
I think it’s about time I tell her, and finally put an end to all the pretending I’ve been doing my entire life.
Finally.