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by: Anthony Carlson One day you'll see her and you'll know what I mean. It is simply remarkable: the way a mind can work. A person can be terrified of the secrets that they carry deep inside their hearts, and yet at the same time, he is not even slightly afraid of making a scene, just to feel at home in a strange world. Early November back at the manor was always the most exciting time of the year. When I was seven – just a few months before my mother died – my family went to London to spend the season with the Wellingtons, my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I remember sitting at the large picture window with both of my cousins, Rachael and Ophelia, who was a Blanchard, and watching with rapt attention as fireworks lit up the sky and huge bonfires blazed into the night. The thing I remember most vividly about that night was when my mother, slightly drunk on rum, took my hand and led out onto the balcony overlooking the chaos in the street. “Anthony, my darling son,” she said to me, her voice shaking, “you and I have made a great team these past years. Whatever happens, we shall remain together always, whether it be in hell or paradise.” How was I, a tiny boy of barely seven years, to know that a few months later she would leave me forever, by her own hand? When I opened the door to her tearoom and saw her on the floor, I didn’t know what to think. I was only seven; I thought she was sleeping, but the blood I eventually saw became a nightmarish vision that would haunt my dreams for years to come. However, I’m getting away from the point of this story. Ever since, that splendid little holiday in November, also known as Bonfire Night, has always been important to me. I both loved it and hated it. Maybe that’s why I did what I did. I’ll never know, but ever since the words escaped from my mouth I thought I had surely doomed us both. “I can't leave without the little High and Mighty Duchess of Damn Essex, that's why I'm here and that's why I'm staying,” I remember screaming into the face of some young man that I had never met. I can still see Cynthia’s face through the haze of my drunken memory. She looked at me as though I had betrayed her trust, and I certainly had. When I woke up the next day with a delightful little hangover, it fully hit my what I had done. I thought I had destroyed everything, but all the others had dismissed the statement as one of a raving drunk and I was very thankful for that. So, even though they ignored my comment, I was still ashamed of myself. I basically tried to lie low, but that didn’t last long. Every man has a certain inalienable weakness known as a girl. This weakness lives deep inside of the best of us and just when we think we’re free, it attacks us from behind. It all started when I got the bright idea to go ice-skating. I walked into the lobby with my skates in their box. In the lobby there were many others: Tiptoe, Gertrude, and Jumper, who was sleeping on the couch. “Good evening,” Tiptoe said quietly as not to wake Jumper. “Good Evening” I said in reply. “How are you doing?” I shrugged a little. “Quite well, you?” “Yes. About the same.” Little Gertrude who had been sitting on the steps reminded me of Cynthia. She had lived seventeen years in the court, but had never learned any social grace beyond quietness. I found it somewhat endearing. “And how are you?” I asked her “I’m alright, thanks,” She said nervously. It was then that Jump began to wake up. As she talked with Tiptoe and Tracker, who eventually came in, I sat down with my skates, quite certain that I wouldn’t be going out that night. “What’s the box?” Jump asked me. Surprised, I could help but smile. “Ice skates.” Her face light up so brightly, it was almost akin to Bonfire Night fireworks. “Ice Skates!” she cried. Again, I smiled; her brash personality was refreshing to me. “You skate?” “No, always wanted to though.” “I'll have to take you sometime. It's very fun.” “Now!” “As you wish, my lady, wait just a moment...” I ran upstairs in search of the other pair of skates that had been my old ones and then came back downstairs, handing them to her. As she opened the box, she actually squealed. Her happiness amazed me. “I don't know if they will fit, but I certainly hope they do.” “I'll make 'em fit!” “Alright then. Now do you know of a lake that has been iced over, nearby?” That is when she shocked everyone in the lobby by jumping up on the couch and shouting, “Ok, DOES ANYONE OUT THERE...YES ANYONE who can hear me. CAN ANYONE tell me of a lake that has frozen over nearby? Anyone?” I couldn’t help laughing at that. No sane person could. “Sorry.” “That's okay, I just didn't know you wanted to learn to ice skate so much.” “I do...it looks...so like...I don’t know…peaceful and graceful and beautiful...” “Well, that's good. I do love it myself. Now let's go find a lake.” Taking the box under one arm, I walked out in the freezing cold New York City winter and she followed me. I wandered for a while until I found a lake with a bench nearby, where we sat down and put on our skates and then skated out onto the ice. “Now just come out here, like your sliding across a newly waxed floor.” I said in my most instructor-like voice. She tried to glide, but fell down instead. “Are you okay?” I asked, only laughing a little, and offering her my hands so she could stand up. She took them and then stood up. “Why, thank you.” She smiled. “Ok, ready to go again.” “Well, that's a good attitude. Most girls just sit down and cry after falling.” She smiled and started skating again, this time a little better. “Look at me! I’m a natural. I’m the best! Hey, Anthony...” but it didn’t last, for she fell again. “That's okay for a beginning.” “That wasn’t too slick, was it?” “Not really. Are you okay?” She nodded, as I helped her up for a second time. “Can you do any tricks, like skate backwards or something?” I smirked, remembering all of the strange things my mother had taught me when I was very small. I could do a fair amount of ice-skating leaps and such. The schoolboys made fun of me for them back home. “Maybe one or two.” “Show me! Show me! Show me!” I smirked again, preparing for a grand leap and then I did the trick, skating a relatively quick pace and then leaping into the air, finishing with a one-leg landing. “Where’d ya learn that?” she asked, clapping. “Back home, we had a huge lake on our land and my mum taught me to skate when I was very little.” She continued to applaud and I took a bow, “Thank you, my lady.” She started skating again and then glanced sideways at me. “So, Anthony, tell me more about you ‘cause, I mean, I live with you and at the same time don’t really know you at all.” “What do want to know?” “Anything, where’d ya live? Why are you here? What’d you do for a living?” Well, did she really want to know? Probably not. “Where'd I live? Well, I can answer that: Rochester, England.” “And, why are you here in New York in a little lodging house called Bay Ridge?” “It's a terribly long and boring story.” That it was, and I wasn’t quite supposed to tell it. “All I see is ice and I need practice time so, tell me.” She looked at me, wide eyed. “Please?” “How can I say no to that face?” “I’m not gonna tell you ‘cause I don’t want you to say no.” “I'll tell you if you can keep up with me.” Skating quickly, I headed away to the other end of the lake. She started trying to skate in the opposite direction and I felt fear rise up in me that she would fall and hurt herself. I stopped skating and yelled to her, “Fine! I'll tell you!” She stopped and fell into the snow. We were both laughing hysterically when I sat down next to her in the snow. “Do you need some help then?” She shook her head. “So, you gonna tell me stuff?” I sighed, resigned to tell her just enough. “You see, my father got remarried to Abbigail and she didn't like me very much. So he tried to get rid of me and then some bad stuff happened to an old friend and it was the last straw. I left.” “Oh.” “And, what about you?” “My story isn’t very interesting. I just sort of landed here, liked it, so stayed.” “It works.” “Don’t you like to write or sing or anything?” “Well, I used to sing in my church choir, but I never considered it anything special.” “Really now?” She grinned almost viscously. “Why then you must share your talent with me, sing me something from your church.” Not eager to do so, I stalled for as long as I could, but eventually I sang for her. “Your turn. What are your hobbies?” “Not much. I just write, anything, music, when I can.” I smiled, knowing that she played the piano. I used to hear her play sometimes, but she hadn’t in a while. Just then, a light snow started to fall. “Anthony it’s snowing! It’s snowing!” “So it is.” “It never ceases to amaze me! I’ve seen snow maybe a hundred times and each time its just as magical” “Because it's perfectly beautiful.” ‘Just as you are,’ I found myself thinking, and then shaking my head to force the thought away. “Wanna walk me home?” She asked, jokingly. “Certainly my lady,” I said, offering her my arm. We then walked back to the lodging house together. It was a simply beautiful evening and there was no one else in the lobby. We had tea together, she played piano while I sang again for her, We asked each other silly questions –which is how I found out that her favourite flower was the sunflower and that she didn’t know her birthday- we talked about our families, but then— “Are you sure you like the spontaneous side of me?” She asked. I nodded because I truly did. “Well then, there's this.” I was confused for a brief moment before she kissed me and then pulled back to watch what I did. I was dumbfounded and couldn’t speak a word. “Sorry. I guess I got a bit too spontaneous.” She looked down at the ground. She got up and went to the kitchen and I leaned back wanting to kick myself for not saying something, anything. I couldn’t though there was something else in the back of my head. Then something I dreamed about that night. The terrible fear of things long past: Margarite and Nathaniel.
Early May 1904: The ballroom was crowded full from the grey marble floor to the ceiling with people that I had either never met before or never cared to again, so I stayed in the entrance hall and pretended to be greeting the guests that had arrived, while avoiding them later on. Then my father’s dearest friend’s daughter, Kristine Kochanski, came into the entrance hall. “Good Evening, Lady Kochanski.” Sure, that wasn’t the correct form of address, but I didn’t really care at this point about bothering with the ‘her honourables.’ “If she congratulates me, I'll kill her,” was the only thought in my head. “Good Evening, Viscount Carlson,” she said with the same bitter twist on saying the title. “So, are you enjoying the fabulous party, Kristine?” She smirked, “How could I not enjoy this lovely party thrown in honour of your engagement?” “Sod off.” “I was just joking, Anthony” “I know, I know.” I had a lot more on my mind than this silly arranged marriage. I apparently had a stalker. “Anything other than this bothering you?” “Oh no, Kristine, someone just tried to shoot me yesterday, but I'm fine with that.” “What?” she asked, eyes widening, as she pulled me further out into the entrance hall. “Explain.” “I was out in the courtyard the other day and thought someone was following me. I turned around and sure enough, someone with a gun was. I ran and hid, needless to say.” “Did you recognize them?” “Never seen him before in my life.” Kristine looked at me worriedly and we talked for a little while as we tried to figure out what in the world I could do to fix this problem, when, she came out of the ballroom. She frowned at Kristine and then started speaking in her annoying, whiny voice. “Anthony, why aren't you out in the ballroom with me?” “I am entertaining the guests, Margarite.” “It looks like you are only entertaining one guest.” She linked her arm through mine and smiled, even her smile annoyed me. “Well, I think you should come back to the ballroom. There are people out there that want to talk to you.” Thank goodness, Kristine came to my rescue. “Margarite, we were having a conversation, and I will personally make sure he will be back out there when we are done talking.” “Sod off, this doesn't concern you. I don't want you flaunting yourself to my Anthony.” “Margarite! Leave her alone!” I said angrily. I sincerely wished that she were this possessive over someone else. “I can assure you that I am not going to ‘flaunt’ myself to Anthony. I am quite happy with my current situation” Margarite didn’t seem to believe this and in fact she was looking at Kristine as though my friend was a common harlot. “But, you will be coming out, right?” I nodded. There was nothing else that I could do. Thankfully, she then slipped her arm out of mine and went back in the ballroom, glaring at Kristine the entire time. “Stupid prat,” Kristine said. “My sentiments exactly.” Kristine and I talked for a little longer, making remarks about Margarite and her friends, snide remarks, of course. “I don't know how anyone could stand to have her as a friend.” “I know, and you forget: I get to have her as a wife. Why me?” “Because you are just wonderful.” “I don't think this torment would be the appropriate repayment for being wonderful.” We both laughed and then suddenly gunshots rang out in the entrance hall and the large stained glass window directly above Kristine and I shattered. She screamed and I tried to cover my head to protect myself from the falling glass, while trying to sound commanding as I said, “What was that?” A large group of people, probably as many as could fit, crowded into the entrance hall as I stared dumbfoundedly at the broken glass on the floor. Margarite ran over and clung to my arm, but I was still worried speechless. Then entered my father, pushing his way through the enormous crowded in an almost parting of the red sea like manner. “What's this?” he asked. Kristine tried to take on the task that I should have taken up. “Earl Carlson, we do not know what happened. It all happened so quickly...” He just glared, because that’s just what he did. “Yes, Madam Kochanski, but what happened so quickly?” “The window shattered.” “Really? Did it decide to do this of it's own accord?” He asked sarcastically. I doubted if he knew any other tone of voice. I was about to come to her aide when there were suddenly more gunshots and it sounded like they were coming from three directions -- either that of the sheer volume of Margarite’s scream had clouded my perception. As soon as the shots stopped there was a brief period of silence before my father screamed out in a rage, “What the Hell?!” I forgot. That was his other tone of voice. He threw a glass vase to the ground and added it to the mess of glass. “Who did this?” “Father, please...calm down,” I said as Margarite cried into my shoulder. He didn’t say anything further. He just stormed out, followed by a few others, probably to look for the gunman. Margarite continued to wail that the party was ruined and walked away as I noticed how a bullet had lodged itself in my mother’s portrait and I couldn’t help but stare at it. “Anthony?” Kristine asked. “Yes?” But she didn’t say anything. She simply pulled me into a comforting hug. I shook my head and walked out onto the grounds, simply needing to get out of that house and she followed me. “Is someone back there?” I asked in a paranoid voice that wasn’t usual for me. “Yes.” “Kristine?” She stepped out of the shadows and nodded. “Why did you follow me?” “I was worried.” “You don't need to be worried. The killer’s in the house, so it's safer out here.” “I wasn't worried about the killer.” “Oh, I would be.” “Well, I am, but I was more worried about you for the moment.” “Go on back to the house. I need to be alone for now.” She nodded and walked back to the house, leaving me alone and staring at the ground. After I saw that she was out of sight, I walked down the path to the family graveyard. It was a dismal place, but there was one grave, about ten years old and strewn with flowers, that I wandered towards anyway. I traced the words on the headstone: The Right Honble. The Countess Matilde Dicessare-Carlson. “So, Mum, what do you think I should do? Maybe I should let them kill me. Then I wouldn’t have to marry Margarite and…then I could be with you. I don’t want to think you’re in Hell as Father says. You were too good for that. You may have done the final act, but he drove you too it. Father murdered you and no one will tell me otherwise.” After that, I simply collapsed in a fit of tears, thankful that no one could see me because I couldn’t move. Or at least I thought no one could see me. There was a loud thud as something metal had hit the marble walkway. “Hey, kid,” said a thick, Italian voice. “Who are you?” “My name is Drago Martines, kid, listen. That Nathaniel is a poison friend; he employed me to kill you, but I will not go through with it, if you swear not to go through with this wedding as that is all he wants.” “That, Mr. Martines, is something you can be sure that I’ll do.”
I did what he asked, and called off the wedding. Margarite was none too pleased, but I did what I had to do. I was scared though. What if I fell in love and she returned? As far as much law was considered, Margarite was legally my wife. Sure, we hadn’t exchanged vows, but that’s the way things worked in the land I came from, at least in my father’s mind, maybe not in anyone else’s. Thank God. Before I fell to sleep that night I made a basic sketch of what happened in the red journal I had from my journey. There were very few things written in it expect for “I need to get out of here!” and “I wish they’d all just sod off,” but now there was a real description of something that I never wanted to deal with again. Maybe it’d be better if I just went home as Gecko had suggested, for some reason though I stayed.
“Hey Anthony,” said a voice behind my as I engaged in usual activity of making tea in the kitchen. “Siren, how have you been?” I asked “I've been alright. How've you been?” “Fine, I think.” “You think?” She raised an eyebrow in her usually witty way, attempting to challenge the fact that I ever thought. “Yes, Siren, I think.” “Why only, you think?” “I just think...I don't know.” “What’s wrong?” I hated the way that she tried to be nice. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to hate everyone. Why do they make themselves so hard to hate? “Nothing” “Are you sure?” “Siren, can I ask you a question?” “Of course.” She was married; she would know how to help. “How did you know that Jared was, well you know, the one?” She stared at me, confused and bewildered by the nature of my question. “It's hard to explain. I just got this feeling whenever I saw him, or someone mentioned his name...and I knew. Why?” “Just wondering...” “No particular reason?” “Maybe...maybe not.” “Don't give me that, just tell me.” I nonchalantly teased her by simply pouring hot water in a cup and putting a tea bag in it. “Why should I?” “Because...I was nice enough to answer your question. You should answer mine.” “ I should, but I don't think I will.” “You're mean, Anthony.” “Yes, I am very mean.” She then proceeded to childishly stick her tongue out at me. Ah, yes, I liked her. Why do I have to like these people? “Go mbrise do chuid naimhde do chroí. “ I had to laugh. I didn’t know what she was talking about. “I have no idea what you're saying, but I know it's a insult...in…Irish?” Just then Jumper walked into the kitchen, saw me and then turned around abruptly without saying a word. I could feel my cheeks start to burn. “Did Jump just come in here, or am I seeing things?” Siren asked. “Yes, she left though.” “Don't give me that shit, tell me the truth.” “Why?” “Because I want to know,” She said with a pout on her lips. “I feel like I'm being left out of everything in my little Anthony's life because he won't tell me a damn thing.” “You don't really want to know.” “Oh, yes I do” “I was a complete git. That's why.” “More so than usual? Tell me?” “Well, I don't express myself very well. That's why.” “A little bit less vauge?” Now, she was prying and I still couldn’t bring myself to hate her. I decided to tell her. I ran up to the bunkroom and grabbed my red journal handed it to her. “Open it the bookmark” She did as I asked and read my description of what happened. “You just stood there?” She asked incredulously. “Did you smile at her at least?” I didn’t respond. “Anthony, Anthony, Anthony... You're a silly boy. Go talk to her.” “I...I can't.” “Do you want me to go and talk to her for you?” “No, that would be juvenile.” She reached over and patted me on the shoulder “Get some tea in you and go and talk to her. I don't see a reason why you shouldn't.” “But...I...I'm...British” “If that's a good reason, then I should have every right to hate you because I'm Irish” “I couldn't think of a better one.” “I noticed” “ What? What do you expect from a selfish little prat like me?” “Look, all I'm trying to do is help you out here, alright? *narrows her eyes slightly* I'm pretty sure that you like her, so maybe if you guys were actually talking it would help.” “I'm not very good with talking. I tend make people angry.” As I said this I distractedly poured myself another cup of the now cold tea. “I don't know why that is.” “What's that supposed to mean?” “Because you're so defensive! I didn't even mean for that to offend you and you got all mad.” “See, that's why I can’t do this.” “Maybe you could just...write it down for her.” That’s it. She had an idea I could get behind there. I flipped open my journal and started to write everything. I put my soul to the page as I hadn’t in a long time. Jump, I am sorry that I cannot so easily or fluently express my feelings as you. I grew up in an environment that did not encourage this sort of behaviour. Ever since my mum died, I swore that I would never be close to anyone again. I did not live up to my promise entirely, but I tried to keep up a good facade. I am sorry for this. I hope that you can forgive me, as I truly do care for you. Love, Anthony
Sure, I hadn’t written all that I wanted to, but there were some things I wasn’t ready to say at the time. I left the letter out for her and stayed outside as long as I could. As I walked down the street later that night I heard a crisp, sweet voice. “Anthony!” She was calling. I stopped and listened her speak. “You can’t give a girl a letter like this one and walk away.” “I didn't know what else I could do.” “Anthony, I just…I just really wanna hear it. I wanna hear you say that you care about me.” “Hear me say it? As in, aloud?” ”As in...to me. Yes, Anthony, aloud.” “I care about you.” “Thank you.” “It's the truth...” Then she kissed me again. I was still shocked and turned bright red. “Aren't you cold?” “I’m fine” “In any case, we should get back to the house.” “It’s such a shame though. It’s such a pretty night. Don’t you think?” “That it is, but I won't have you freezing to death.” With that I led her to the lodging house, unsure of what there was between us, but at least I was sure there was something and that she knew it too.
A few days later, Ophelia surprised me by appearing in the door of the boys’ bunkroom. “Hungry?” She asked. I didn’t know what was going on or what she was doing there. She had only been to the house a few times before and never upstairs. “What’s going on?” “Nothing.” I didn’t want to do anything. I had been looking over an old photo album that contained pictures of so many people I missed and didn’t miss so much: Kristine, Rachael, Ophelia and Cynthia, Reginald, Nathaniel, my father, my mother, my stepmother, Margarite, and so many others. She took me by the arm, however, and led me down the stairs. Where I saw Cynthia, holding Ophelia’s baby, Noelle, and Jumper, standing by the doorway to the kitchen. “Evening, ladies, Ophelia assures me nothing is going on.” “Ya think you could make you some tea, Anthony?” Jump asked innocently. I wasn’t quite sure of what was happening, but when I got into the kitchen there was a nice dinner laid out of a number of foods from home that I missed dearly. My cloud of homesickness disappeared instantly. Ophelia and Cynthia had vanished suddenly and it was just Jump and me, eating the meal she had prepared for us. When we had finished, she got up and started cleaning up the kitchen. “Not much of a talker today, are we?” “I'm sorry, long evening.” “Oh, no problem. I understand. Care to talk about it?” “There's not much to say really, just a lot of thinking.” “Do ya wanna be alone...to think?” “I'm fine. It was just a cloud, but it's past.” “Ya maybe wanna go for a short walk or something, then?” I agreed and we both got our coats and walked toward the park together, neither one saying much. We found a bench and sat down, still to scared to say a word. She broke the silence. “It's nice out today.” “That it is, a little cold, but nice.” This was sad. Two mature young people, discussing the weather. Apparently, she thought so too. “Can you believe this? We've resulted to talking about the weather. Pretty pathetic of us.” “We are the most pathetic people I can think of at the moment. I wonder why that is.” “Maybe cause neither of us have really...talked...about...you know... us.” I stopped cold. Us? Was there an us? “Pardon?” She sighed. I could tell that she apparently though so. “I don't know about you, but I'm never as relaxed as I’d want to be with you cause I don’t know how you feel. We....just...” “I'm sorry, Jump. I would tell you, but I don't know what to say.” “I know...” “What about you? How do you...feel?” “Anthony, I like you. What else am I supposed to say...I mean...like...” She flushed and looked to the ground and I was hit by a sudden bolt of lightning. “You do?” “Yes, and I feel like you can't make up your mind about it. Like you’re going back and forth and just if you’re not at all interested at least tell me so I don’t get myself into a deeper hole.” Standing up, she headed quickly in the direction that we had come from. I stood up as quickly as I could and called after her. I had to make her understand. “Wait!” She stopped, but she didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even turn around to look at me. “Jump,” I began, my voice cracking with nervousness. “I...I'm sorry. I really don't know what to tell you. I'm so confused.” “I don't want you to be sorry or confused, but I have nothing left to say. I’ve said all I needed to I guess.” She started walking again and I had to run to catch up to her. Sure, I’m a horrible runner, but adrenaline tends to help out sometimes. “You have to understand.” “Understand...what?” “I...I really do love you. It's just…” Taking a step back, she looked at me wide eyed. “What did you say?” “I said...” I paused. Did I say what I thought I said? “I said that I love you.” A nauseous feeling was coming over mean. I wasn’t supposed to care about anyone, let alone love them. “I actually said it.” When I looked at her, I saw that she looked utterly shocked, more than I did if that was possible. “Listen...if that's really something you didn't want to hear, just forget it ever happened.” I would have felt more assured if she would just look up at me. “Ya don't just forget stuff like that Anthony, and…it’s not that I didn't want to hear it...it's just a shock.” “I'm terribly sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, please, I wanted you to talk and you did. I just wasn’t expecting what ya said.” “I understand.” The nauseous feeling still hadn’t left me, and then she looked at me intently. “It's just what? Finish…I really do…love...you. It's just...what?” “That's not important.” “It is to me if it follows...I really do…love you” Dear God, how was I to tell her. “I was just going to say that I don't want anyone mixed up in my mess.” “Your mess?” “The mess that I've made and other people have made for me.” “Whatever mess it is, it’d be worth it.” “Do you really believe that?” I didn’t even think it was worth it. “Yeah, I do.” I couldn’t believe her. How could she want to be involved in my life. Sure, she didn’t know what she was in for. I should have told her. “It's really bad.” “I don't care.” “I still don't like being involved in it.” “Involved in what?” She asked slowly, finally looking up at me. “Causing someone else trouble. I don't want anything bad to happen and I know that something will.” The sick feeling was almost killing me now and there were nightmarish visions running through my head. I could see Nathaniel shooting her right in the streets of New York. Then the New York setting changed and it happened in the Carlson manor courtyard, when she was dressed like one of the ladies there, and then it was me holding the gun instead of Nathaniel, and then Jump turned into Margarite. I was losing my mind and I was about to lose consciousness. Almost as though she knew I was about to fall over, Jump grabbed my hand. “It’ll be okay.” Still the nightmare visions wouldn’t leave. Now I saw myself falling down dead into a dark pit and dragging her with my by that very hand. As glad as I was that she took my hand, I was quite thankful when she let go. “Why do you have that look on your face?” “Pardon?” I hadn’t been aware that my face was reflecting those fears. “You look absolutely terrified. Why?” “As I said, I don't want anyone to be hurt.” “Who is going to get hurt?” “No one, I hope.” Then my mind stuck on a thought. If Nathaniel never knew about her, if my father didn’t have the slightest clue, if everyone stayed in the dark, then maybe, just maybe, we’d have a chance of coming out of this alive. “Maybe...if this is all kept a secret...” “A secret?” “For now, that might be best.” “Ya think we could do that, pull it off, handle it even?” “I don't know, probably not, but I don't see any other way.” “Well, then it's a secret.” I was still horrified, but the nightmare visions weren’t clouding my eyes quite as fully. They were just creeping around on the edges. As I started to walk toward her, I wobbled a little thanks to what was happening in my brain, and she grabbed my hand again. “Please, don't look so scared, it's gonna be fine.” “You really think so?” “Yeah, I do.” “Then I'll believe you.” She looked at me, and then at the ground again. “Anthony, if I tried to kiss you, would you freak out again?” “Of course, not.” At least I’ll try not to my mind was saying. “Good.” Then she kissed me quickly, before turning around and heading back to the lodging house. I followed slowly, half blinded by visions of my doomed world and half blinded by visions of my most perfect one.
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