Chapter fifty-four:

 

 

It’s very late when Carrie begins to stir. She’s shivering, despite the covers I put over her to keep her warm. I searched Charlie’s office and came up with more blankets for Carrie, and painkillers for us both. Because we both have so much pain inside, and I need to dull it for us both so we can think straight.

It’s this place, though—the slaughterhouse. It’s always cold here. It’s the only way to keep the meat fresh like it is. She’ll freak when she realizes where she is, but it’s the only place I could think to go. The only place I thought we would get a bit more peace for a couple more hours. Somewhere safe for us both. Somewhere I knew she wouldn’t be able to run from.

Charlie and everyone else will be in work by seven a.m. So that still gives us a little longer together. A little longer to unearth the truth from the lies. To finish our story once and for all.

Her eyelids flutter, and I smile and move forward. I use the damp cloth to wipe away the blood on the side of her head, and slowly, slowly her eyelids open. Her eyes look up at me, her pupils dilating until she focuses in on my face. She goes from calm to panicked in 0.5 seconds.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say, and I hush her.

She doesn’t move or fight. She just lies there and listens to me, like a good girl.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, and she nods. “I have some painkillers. They’re my boss’s,” I say by way of explanation.

I fish the painkillers out of my pocket and I reach toward her mouth. She opens for me like a baby bird and I drop them onto her tongue. She swallows, and I offer her some water to help wash them down but she shakes her head.

Both of her eyes are open now. And the one that was swollen almost shut is nearly back to normal. It’s nice that I can see her face almost like it should be. It’s a shame about the bruises that litter her skin, though.

“I think we need to talk,” I say slowly. “We need to talk about what happened that night. I think you need to accept and let go. You need to forgive yourself and then maybe, just maybe, we can still have that future we always dreamed of.”

She tries to move, but I push her back down. She shakes her head and then winces in pain. Her eyes are wide and she swallows and opens her mouth to speak. I wait, rapt for her words.

“There is no future for us, Ethan,” she says.

I scowl at her because she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She may as well be saying cheese and sushi taste good together, or baked beans are an aphrodisiac, for all the sense she’s making.

“Sure there is,” I say, and I won’t lose my temper.

I won’t lose control. We’re too close now. We’ve come too far.

“No,” she says, and the word catches in her throat and makes her cough.

I grab the glass of water I brought from the back office and I put it to her dry lips. She takes a small sip and some of it dribbles down her cheek. I wipe it away with my fingertips and then I lick my fingertips, tasting the water that she just drank. It all brings us that much closer together.

“I don’t want you, Ethan,” she says. “I never did.”

I stare down at this strange creature, this imposter of Carrie, and I say my mantra in my head as the blood rushes through me faster and faster.

‘One African Elephant Walking Very Nicely. Two Australian Coyotes Prowling Through The Night. Three Jungle Cats Slinking Through The Dark. Four Busy Beavers Building Their…’

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Carrie,” I say. “You’ve had a nasty knock to the head. That’s my fault, I’m sorry. Perhaps you need to rest some more. Perhaps the painkillers need to kick in. Perhaps it’s all the drama of the past few days.”

Perhaps…

Perhaps…

Perhaps…

“No, it’s not. You just need to know the truth, finally. I see that now.” And then she cries and I lean over to try and hold her and she pushes and claws at me and screams to get off. So I let go because I’m an understanding boyfriend and I get it. She needs her space.

I’m listening and learning all the time. This is all new to me too, Carrie. Just give me a chance to get it all right, I think.

“I know the truth,” I say.

“You do?”

I nod. “I know about my dad, I remember now, and I’m sorry that I blocked that bit out. I know my mom protected him. And I know what your dad did and how your mom didn’t care. I know all this. I know that you’re damaged goods. I know that you’re a whore. I know you have dirty windows to stop people from looking in and seeing who you really are, Carrie, but your paint isn’t peeling yet we can still make this work! I still fucking love you, don’t you see! Even after everything, I still love you.”

And I am desperate; my words tumble faster and faster as they leave me. As I try to get her to see me. She sits up and she slaps my hands away when I try to touch her. She’s crying and I want to too, because I hate seeing her so upset. She’s ugly when she cries, especially with her face all banged up, but I still love her. Despite everything that’s changed, that’s the one thing that hasn’t.

“I love you,” I say, imploring her to see me like I see her.

“I hate you,” she replies.

“You don’t mean that.” My heart is frozen in my chest mid-beat as it waits for the knife to drop, the axe to slice through my veins and sever my soul from my body.

“I do, Ethan. I really, really do. I never loved you. I used you right from the start, why don’t you see that?” And she’s crying, but she’s also angry, and I don’t know why she’s angry. What did I do that was so wrong? What did I do that made her fall out of love for me? Because you can’t fake love, and I saw love in her eyes so many times when we were kids. It couldn’t have been an act, it couldn’t have.

It was real.

It was true.

She had my heart.

And I had hers too!

“I wanted to get away from my life—my dad, my mom, your dad, and you. Everything. It was all bad. It was all fucked up. Why don’t you see that, Ethan? Why don’t you see how fucked up it all was?” She puts her head in her hands, and she’s not crying now but tears are still falling. When she looks up her eyes are empty, and her face is twisted in anger and pain and gratefulness. Yes, gratefulness, and I see it, that spark.

“You killed for me, Ethan.”

“Because I loved you.”

“Because there’s something wrong with you!” she screams. “And I knew that, and I used you for that!”

I shake my head no, but deep down I know she’s right. I’m not completely stupid. There has to be something wrong with someone who kills another person. That’s not a normal thing to do. That’s why we’re so perfect for each other.

“He was hurting you,” I whisper to her. The words want to come louder, but my throat is tight and closed. “I told you I wouldn’t let him hurt you anymore.”

“I’m bad,” she says. “I’m no good for you. I never was.”

And she sounds just like my mom. And I guess, if I’m being truthful with myself, deep down I know she’s right.

But that’s the crazy thing about love.

Love doesn’t care about the bad or the good. It just is.

It loves regardless.

“I know, but I don’t care,” I return, and I look into her face and I reach for her hands, and she lets me hold them. And they are so soft—not like mine at all, rough and calloused from years of cleaning toilets in prison. From bleaching and mopping and dusting. I’ve cleaned my whole life. Going from one mess to another. I cleaned up Carrie’s mess. And I cleaned up Benny’s blood. I cleaned up Carrie’s kitchen, and I’ll clean this mess up too.

“You have to let me go,” she pleads, and her tears are back now. They trail down her bruised cheeks like raindrops on a window.

And I think it’s funny how now she’s asking me to let her go when it was only an hour or so ago that I asked her to do that very same thing for me. Wow, how things are changing and turning all the time, but they still come back to the same thing.

“You can’t keep me,” she says.

“But I want you,” I say, and I choke on the sadness that I’m trying to keep down. On the trueness of that pitiful statement. My heart feels like it will burst out of my chest at any minute. It’s swollen and painful and I can’t breathe through my own panic.

“You always did,” she says. “But I’m no one’s. I’m not a thing you can own and keep. You can’t buy me, or bribe me. You can’t force me. I’m my own person and I make my own choices and my own mistakes. And I’m making this one too, just like I did all those years ago. Because it’s my decision to make. I am bad, and I accept that. I’ll do whatever I have to do to survive.” She slams her hand on the table. “You have to know that by now, Ethan!”

All those years ago. So many years have passed, but everything is still so fresh. So crystal clear in my mind. Finally. I see it all now. Like a perpetually shifting reality, everything is now finally clicking into place.