The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

she managed to give him. As his frame disappears from view, I close my eyes, giving into the numbness. He pays the brokenness no mind, not of the lamp or of me. And he has no idea what he’s done.

Tears flood my face as my exhaustion disables my defenses. All these memories I’d locked deep inside me . . . I shake my head in an attempt to forget them once more.

Julian, eyes focused on the backs of the three men, doesn’t move from his watchdog position until he’s certain they won’t return. I wonder what I would have done had he not been here to intervene. Would I have fought them off, or at least tried to? Would I have given in in the hopes they’d spare my life? As it stands, I’m not sure I have much of a life left to take.

My eyes close and behind them images of the dead girl’s body flicker like the gas flame along with the face of a boy with black hair and icy green eyes.

“They’re gone,” Julian breathes, dropping to his knees beside me. “You’re safe now,” he says.

I roll my head to face him. His eyes scan my tear-drenched face as if looking for signs of damage. He wants to help me. But he doesn’t know the signs to look for or the enemy I truly face.

“I will never be safe,” I tell him then.

His forehead crinkles and his eyes narrow. I look away from him then.

Regaining control of my body, I finally say, “And you’re crazy.”

“What? What do you mean?” he asks. As he speaks, the crinkle returns to his forehead while the intensity leaves him.

“You were outnumbered, heavily outnumbered,” I say, emphasizing that a single one of them could have crushed him. “Why did you risk getting hurt for . . .?” I stop myself before finishing my question. What he did was stupid, not heroic, and I won’t allow my choice of words to say otherwise.

“For you?” he interjects.

I turn to him then. His lips draw up into a playful grin, and his cheeks allow the slightest hint of pink. Like his music, his grin is intoxicating.

“Yeah, I mean, in general,” I say. My attempt to ease the tension between us doesn’t work as his grin transforms into an all-out, teeth-bearing smile.

“Well, it was simple. Either I get hurt or you do,” he says, moving his eyes from mine. “It was the neighborly thing to do.” At that, we both laugh, and I imagine what Kat would do if she could see me now, rather see us. It’s then that I realize how close our bodies are and . . .

“On that note, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome at the Concrete Inn. I’d better get going,” I say, pushing myself to a standing position.

“Seriously?” Julian asks, standing to tower over me.

“What?” I ask. Taking a step back, I cross my arms over my chest.

“You really think I’m letting you walk home alone?” he asks.

His eyebrows raise as he speaks, and I find it strange how normal the small movement makes me feel. I guess because Kat and I often share quizzical looks with one another. Mostly so when we think the other one is doing something incredibly stupid. And I guess he’s right—just because I escaped one set of prowlers doesn’t mean there aren’t more lurking. Home is still ten minutes away.

“Fine. I guess the smart thing to do would be to walk together. We are going to practically the same place, so, let’s walk,” I say, turning on my heels. I don’t wait around for more banter. I’m queasy as it is. But I’d be lying if I said Julian’s presence doesn’t give me at least a little bit of comfort.

Julian grabs his violin case from the sidewalk, slings it over his shoulder, and moves in stride with me.

* * *

The air around us is thick with humidity and the silence between us. It makes my hair stick to my exposed neck, and my fingers swell as blood rushes to them. It seems so long ago that I watched Julian play his violin, even longer that my sister told me she was engaged, and my mother begged me not to ruin it for her.

“God,” I say aloud, lifting my eyes to the starry sky.

“What’s wrong?” Julian asks. He turns his head to face me.

“Nothing,” I breathe. “Just . . . thinking,” I tell him, which isn’t a lie.

“Just thinking is code for ‘my mind is about to explode but I have no idea how to begin telling this total stranger about my life-and-death dilemma,’” Julian says.

I turn to him and this time, I’m the one with a brow raised. Who is this guy?

“Close?” Julian asks, mimicking my motion.

“Okay,” I say, forcing my eyes ahead. “First of all, don’t act like you know me. Second, it’s not life and death. Though, I guess it depends on who you ask.” Like my mother and Eva. “And finally, I wouldn’t be walking home with you if you were a total stranger.”

“Even though we live next door to one another?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod. “Even though we live next to door to one another. But you’re right,” I tell him. “I . . . I don’t know where to begin or if I even should. I just . . . I have a lot going on right now and tonight didn’t help any of it. I didn’t even get my tacos,” I mumble.

“Tacos?” Julian asks.

“Yeah, Mimi’s has the best tacos and I like to eat them when . . . when I have a lot on my mind,” I exhale. “Guess that drunk asshole was a sign from God I need to cut the carbs or at least, stop trying to escape every major problem I have,” I reveal before I can stop myself. “Um,” I stop walking. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“If that’s what you want,” Julian says, taking one step in front of me. “But for the record,” he says, turning to face me. “I don’t think God sends signs in the form