CHAPTER FOURTEEN // SIARA LYNN DUPONT

[WORD COUNT: 2824]

[TOTAL: 37513]

• † •

I fled. I panicked and I ran, because all of these conflicting emotions inside of me made it increasingly difficult to keep my composure in tact. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. It was killing me, slowly at first but now at a rapid pace to find out who did this–who had the audacity to threaten me and Bona when we did absolutely nothing. It was killing me to know that no matter how hard I tried to find the culprit I simply couldn’t since there was nothing leading towards who was responsible.

It bothered me. It made the stress and anxiety that was prickling under my skin dig deeper, until I was forced to acknowledge something else to stop myself from scratching my skin until it was red and threatening to burst with blood. It made my fingers shake from fear, utter fear of what could happen. It made what I read repeat in my mind like a broken tape recorder that wouldn’t stop playing even though you pressed stop a hundred times. 

“It’s such a shame that your precious detective, Siara ‘Lynn’ Dupont couldn’t find the clues, it’s just that she looked in the wrong direction.” 

Guns may pierce your skin and send waves of pain throughout your body, and knives may go through flesh like melted butter, but words and sentences can stab you deeper than any sword or knife will ever be able to. Words will bury themselves in a far more dangerous area than guns and knifes will ever get the chance to go to. Words are demonic, conniving creatures, they mess with your mind and make you think about more terrifying thoughts that will eventually drive you insane from the ending possibility. 

“I am going to kill you soon, I despise you as well. But I would like to play some… games with you first.” 

I was hiding in the small bathroom in my office. I was curled into a ball with my head buried in the small space between my knees, eyes tightly clenched shut and my lips swollen from being bitten so hard. My mind was swirling with all types of thoughts and emotions I couldn’t find the effort to sort out. Everything was a blur, a confusion, but the most prominent one I could distinguish was fear. 

Fear was indefinitely a promising emotion, one that held so much intensity and meaning that it could very well change who you are. Combined with the power of words, together they were deadly. It was the explanation as to why I couldn’t move from my curled up ball and why I couldn’t face reality beyond this small sanctuary I had grown accustomed to. I was well aware of the fact that both Bona and Jacob were behind the bathroom door, begging for me to get out of here and to talk but I simply couldn’t. 

Fear was blocking my sense of rationality and no matter how hard I fought, the words kept on seeping into my mind, imprinting itself with an ink that couldn’t be washed away. Images flashed through my mind like a slideshow, emphasizing possible scenarios that could occur when I leave from this bathroom. Whoever wrote the note had to know me, or else it wouldn’t have shaken me up so badly. The thought terrified me, to no end and I found myself imagining one of my closest friends being responsible for this. I couldn’t imagine it being Bona or Jacob, or any of my other acquaintances in the station. I just couldn’t see one of the people I had been working with for years being apart of the death of my brother.

“Just saying, Lynn. The person could be anyone you wouldn’t suspect.” 

I heard Jacobs words ring in my mind as I faintly recalled our conversation concerning my romantic involvement with Lux. What if–what if he was right? For all I knew it could be Lux, even though he was already carrying the burden of amnesia along with his other troubles. What if it was with those other friends he was with at Rye when I was interrogating the students? Lincoln and Jessica? It really could be anyone, maybe even my neighbor that I never bothered to speak to. These thoughts–of not knowing who it could be or when things could happen, it terrified me. I felt helpless and useless, how was I supposed to keep up with the promise I made for Lynn and the others that attended the funeral?

It was too much of a burden for me to handle, too much was expected of me when I wasn’t even sure that I could keep to my word. Back when I promised Lynn and the others, I felt a sense of hope even though I was at my lowest moments. Back then–last week–I was sure, I was definite that I could find the culprit because I knew that I was one hell of a homicide detective and nothing got past my sight.

But I couldn’t help but feel a sense of doubt in myself. I mean, a week had past and I allowed another number of people die in my hands, all because I couldn't find a lead. Didn’t that say something about my line of work? Were the reporters right? Was the death of Mason truly affecting who I was as a detective?

A sob threatened to wreak my throat as the countless scenarios floated through my mind. My ears were ringing loudly and my vision was hazy. I long ago lost the feeling in my palms from digging into them for so long. The stiffness on my legs, arms, and neck was increasing the more seconds that passed but I couldn’t find the will to move. I was terrified–terrified of what was expected of me to do the moment I left this bathroom. 

I was terrified that one of my closest friends would be the serial killer–the murderer of my brother. 

“Siara!” I heard my voice being called a hundred times but I couldn’t muster the effort to respond. My name rang and echoed through my ears, like the other manipulating and tantalizing voices that were whispering dangerous words that sliced through my sense of rationality. I didn’t realize it until the last second, but I somehow managed to pry my bleeding fingers away from my numbed palm that had imprinted gashes from my fingernails, only to realize that Bona and Jacob had broken down the bathroom door.

I felt as if I was in a daze, questioning and doubting everything that was sent in my direction. The way Jacob was holding me, did he hold Mason the same way before he brutally sliced his head off? The way they teamed up and broke the door down, if they had the ability to do that who knows what else they did. After all, they spent years training to defend and kill others for the peace of other civilians. We all knew how to make someone unconscious by pressing at a sensitive spot on their necks, we all knew how chloroform worked, and we all most definitely knew where to stab someone or shoot someone so that it would slow them down, not to kill them. 

I felt a harsh sting on my cheek, it was dull but it was enough to snap me out of the hell I managed to drag myself into. “Siara, you need to calm down,” Bona’s harsh, deep, guttural voice managed to make me realize that I was hyperventilating. I couldn’t control it, the rapid breaths, my frantic gaze, the loud ringing in my ears, the constant fear that flowed through my veins, the thought of not knowing who it was that killed all of those people and maybe even more he didn’t give to us–I couldn’t control it.

So I welcomed the obsidian abyss of darkness. It was the only thing I could somehow trust without questioning. My rapid breaths faded into slow inhales and exhales, my frantic eyes fluttered shut against their will, and the ringing in my ears dimmed to a soft murmur. The only feelings that remained was the most prominent ones, fear and confusion. 

I felt safe as I entered the gates of oblivion, for it was much safer then the hell I was living on Earth.

• † •

My eyes opened. I allowed myself to have a few moments so it could adjust to the darkness, not hearing the hushed voices until I saw the moonlight illuminate my room. Frowning, I rubbed my eyes and slid out of bed, my teddy bear and blanket falling on the cool hardwood floor. I drifted towards the door and raised my arm to open the door. The hushed voices were now clearer to hear, they were my mommy’s and daddy’s. I tried to listen and understand what they were saying but their words were too big, too difficult to comprehend. I instead decided to go down the stairs and to ask what was wrong so they could talk in a more clear manner.

“Mommy? Daddy?” I rubbed my eyes again as they slowly got used to the dim lighting in the living room. I missed the furrowing of eyebrows in both of their faces, the scowl presented that they tried to hide and how they were distances away from each other, avoiding the others gazes. I instead saw the smiles they sent in my direction and how Mommy walked towards me and carried me.

“Why are you awake, honey?” Mommy rocked me in her arms and I stole a glance at Daddy, who was smiling warmly when he noticed that I was peeking at him. I missed the way his eyes flashed with a deep emotion I couldn’t decipher.

“I heard you talking,” I said, chewing on my finger, a habit I had accustomed to a few months ago while my gaze returned to Mommy. “It woke me up.”

“Come on, lets get you to bed,” Mommy said, rubbing my back. I frowned and stared back at Daddy again, who seemed to have a distant and faraway expression on his face. Though I missed the obvious, it was clear that they were arguing about something and I didn’t like it when they fought.

“Mommy,” I said as she carried me up the stairs, still chewing on my finger. “Why are you and Daddy fighting?”

I missed that she stiffened at my innocent question. “Daddy and I… we were just talking.”

• † •

Mason, Lisa and I had grown accustomed to the frequent arguments between Mommy and Daddy. To block out their loud shouts and curses, we ran towards the basement and locked ourselves in there–shutting the door and putting a chair under the knob–playing games that required noise. Though being in the basement muffled what they were talking about, we attempted to pay no mind to them and played hundreds of different games, other times settling for just talking and saying silly stories. It was the day before my ninth birthday and we were sitting in a circle in the far corner of the basement. We settled for leaving the lights off and turning on ominous music that sent goosebumps to my skin. The only light in the basement was the rusty flashlight I found in one of the storage bins, efficiently setting the mood I was hoping for.

“So who is going to tell a story first?” I asked, waving the flashlight around the weary expressions presented on Lisa’s and Mason’s face. 

They both exchanged glances as I waited patiently, but before one of them could begin speaking the loud shout and crash made us stumble to our feet. “What was that?” Lisa’s timid voice asked. Mason and I didn’t respond, we were just as clueless as she was. I took the lead and escaped from our corner in the basement and walked towards the door, pointing the rusty flashlight towards it. 

There was another shout and crash that made my heart jump as I heard my Mommy scream. It was all I needed as I ran towards the basement door, throwing the chair that was propped up against the door on the floor. I ripped the knob open and ran towards the living room, where I assumed my parents were. I finally saw some of the signs– flushed cheeks, angry, hateful teary eyes, stiff bodies–for a split second. My eyes drifted towards the lamp and two vases that were smashes into pieces and then back to their eyes, which were avoiding mine. 

“What happened?” I didn’t keep the worry out of my voice as I turned the flashlight off, throwing it on the floor.

“Yeah, what happened?” Mason pipped up, his voice wavering.

“We were just talking and it fell on the floor,” Mother’s voice was void of emotion as she turned away from all of us and stalked towards the kitchen. I knew that her words were a lie, I knew that because I wasn’t as stupid naive as I was a few years ago. I knew when things weren’t as dandy as they projected it to be.

“Daddy?” I asked, hoping that he could shine some clarity in this situation.

He just shook his head and brushed passed us without another word, while Mommy entered the living room and began cleaning, leaving all of us questioning everything in confusion.

• † •

“Get out! Get the fuck out!” Mommy’s voice startled me as I swept my eyes away from the television and towards where she was standing, pointing towards the front door with teary eyes. 

“You–You can’t tell m–me what to do.” Daddy slurred as he staggered to stand straight, eyes tinged with red, cheeks flushed and furrowed eyebrows. Why was he acting that way? Was he drunk?

“You don’t belong in here anymore, not after what you did to me–us.” Mommy’s voice had cracked, though her words were built with ice and stone. “Get out, I mean it!” I didn’t think either of them had realized that I was watching them with terrified yet curious eyes until Mommy began hitting him. When Daddy began hitting back I began screaming stop until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I ran upstairs, tripping over many missed steps and locked myself in my room, putting a pillow over my head to muffle the noises while the tears fell non-stop. Why were they fighting? Why were they hitting each other? Why were they acting this way? What happened to my Mommy and Daddy?

• † •

“She had a panic attack that lasted around ten minutes, from what I gathered while she was unconscious. You said that she reacted badly towards some news?”

“Yes, she did.”

“May I ask what the news was?”

“I’m afraid that is confidential, I’m sure you can understand?”

“Of course.”

“When will she wake up?”

“In a few hours at the latest…”

• † •

“Are you okay?” My gaze drifted towards the grave in front of me as I pointedly ignored the words: ‘Mason Dupont, 1992 - 2012’ to the person standing in front of me. Lux.

“I–I’m fine,” I said, the response I used so often that it felt rehearsed, robotic. I didn’t meet his gaze, I knew that just from one mere glance that he would unravel what I was hiding and I hated it. I hated that he knew me so well up to the point where just by looking in my eyes he could see what I was feeling and how I felt about it.

I didn’t realize that he had on hand wrapped around my right hand, while the other rested on my left cheek, his thumb brushing away the stray tears I hadn’t been quick enough to wipe away. I kept my gaze on the grass that intertwined with the mud, not having enough effort to pull away from his comforting touch. My heart thundered loudly, it was the only thing I could hear besides his light breathing that was fanning my face. The lump in my throat was growing and I found it increasingly difficult to stay as stiff and as far away as I was in that exact moment. Lux came closer until our lips were millimeters away and I found myself leaning in, giving into the temptation that was set out for me ever since he found me. 

They were soft, plush, warm and inviting. His hand drifted from being interlocked on my hand onto the free side of my cheeks, his calloused fingers digging into them with passion and vigor. His breaths fanned my upper lip as he nibbled on my lower lip, emitting a groan from both of us. My hands drifted to his obsidian locks as I played with the hair that was growing on the nip of his neck, my eyes fluttering shut from the passion that the simple kiss gave off.

• † •

If you couldn't tell and/or if you were confused this chapter, the first three memories of Lynn's childhood is in italics. After that is a conversation with the doctor. After that is a dream of Lynn kissing Lux. 

I apologize for the two week wait! This chapter was difficult to write. If I wrote anymore than it would be dragging and horrible. I promise, the next few chapters will come quicker than this one! 

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