Part 7: Can A Person Really Change?// Scars

Not a word was spoken between them. In the entirety of the approximately one million words in the human language, not a single one, nor a combination of them all, could come close to encapsulating what they felt in this moment. So, instead of swimming in the sea of emotion, they simply walked, listening to the faint sound of water crashing against the shores of their hearts. They did not, however, really know where it was that they walked to. Maybe they were going home. Maybe they were still searching for something to say in the streets of a much too large world. A world that now felt small enough that it could fit securely in their palm. Despite its size, it felt as heavy as a lifetime of quiet suffering. Neither of them could carry it by themselves. If they did, they would only drown. But they found that, only together, they could bear the weight of the world. 

Harper knew what was laying on his tongue but was still afraid to speak it. Madison knew what she wanted to hear but was unsure of how it would feel in her ears and so they continued in baffled silence. Something had changed. At least she thought so. He wasn’t so sure. For Harper nothing had changed. The tension was palpable between them but it was not like the airport. It was softer, its texture changed by a simple stone in the middle of an overcrowded cemetery. 

The steps leading to the entrance of the apartment remained sentry of a restless night. Moonlight let their way to the door and accompanied them through the windows embedded in the entrance. As they stepped up the stairs they could hear the sounds of life echoing from behind closed doors. A fighting couple yelling over split cups of midnight coffee. A small party that had been reduced to telling jokes and drinking over memories both fond and painful alike. A happy pair that were having the time of their lives upon a mattress when they thought no other soul could hear. Above it all, Madi’s floor was consumed by a restless hush. It was as if the building itself knew what they were going through and chose to give them peace just this once. 

Harper sat upon the couch which he would spend the night sleeplessly going over the events of the week. Madison opened the door to her room, sparing a saddened but hopeful look back at Harp before shutting it behind her once more. Neither could catch but an hour of dreams but it didn’t really matter. They had enough dreams for one day and there was nothing more for their brains to catch up on. Instead they stared up at their respective ceilings dreading the approaching dawn when the dreams would finally see the light of day.

“You have to tell her.”

Silas stood examining the bread on the shelf, hand hovering between wheat and white. He hesitated for a second before he took a loaf of white bread and placed it into the cart which Moss was leaning on. “I… can’t”

They had wanted to be on the road by this time but found that they were getting low on food so found it advantageous to stop for the night and stock up. Triveni Supermarket was the only 24 hour grocery store they could find in Ellicott City and so that is where they stayed. Silas had volunteered to go in alone and gather what they needed but Moss had insisted on joining him. Did he want to come with me to stretch his legs or did he want to bother me in private. Probably the second one.

“Ok, I’ll play this game, why?”

He began to push the cart down the aisle until they were face to face with the peanut butter and jelly. The selection was thin but, thankfully, they had grape jam which was the only kind Misty would eat. “Because,”

Silas knocked the largest jars of both creamy peanut butter and the jam into the cart and began to move on. “Thats not me anymore, I’ve moved on.”

Moss smirked down at the tiled floor then back up at his friend. “Both of us know that's not true. So… why?”

“Like I said, I-”

“Tell me the truth, Ph-”

Silas stopped at the entrance of the cereal aisle. He cut off Moss, his voice beginning to shake. “Don’t.”

“Alright then, Silas, why can’t you tell her.”

He threw in a box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs and spun to face the cart. “It would just hurt her.”

“Silas…”

“It would hurt me.”

“Stop lying.”

“Ok, fine!”

He too leaned on the cart, head hanging from the collar of his jacket. He took a deep breath. Then another. “I’m… afraid. Afraid that she’ll stop looking at me. Afraid that I haven’t changed. Afraid that nothing has. That, once she knows, then the hurting will return and I won’t have any way to stop it. No out, no escape, no relief. It’ll just be the same thing over and over and over until one of us just drops dead. I don’t want that for her, for us… for me. That's why I can’t. Not now. Not ever. If it stops that from happening, then I would gladly live this lie a thousand times over than live through that one more time.”

The silence between them was only filled by the quiet buzz of the old LED bar lights embedded into the eggshell ceiling. Moss took the grip of his cane in the cart and gently tapped Silas on the shoulder. “But… what if it doesn’t have to be the same. What if she also changed. I think you might be over thinking this. I have seen how she looks at you. I understand why you would be daunted by her, she is a powerful young woman. Full of fury and determination. However, a lot of that is defensive. She is just as scared as you are.”

Silas shrugged aside the cane and pushed himself off the cold metal grate. “What should I do then?” 

Moss chuckled and dropped the cane back into the cart. “Oh, Silas. You know I don’t like to tell people what to do. But, if you really want to know, then my answer would be to tell her tonight before you miss your chance to make this right. However… you know what I am about to say now, don’t you?”

A slight smile eased the creases in Silas’ face as they began to walk toward the register. “Yeah, yeah, I know… follow my heart. You know, you are one sly son of a b***h sometimes?”

Moss returned the smile. “Oh, I know. You wouldn’t know what to do without me. Sometimes you just need the right m**********r to tell you what you always needed to hear. Now, let's get out of here, I’m sure we’re all tired and we have one more long day ahead of us.”

“Well, it won’t take too long to get to New York.”

“That’s… not what I mean.”

The van sat still in the 711 parking lot, radio humming quietly through the night. . While the others slept Jo sat awake, her eyes examining Silas. She remained entranced with his breathing which pushed his jacket up and down in tandem with her heart. “Can’t sleep?” 

The whisper startled her. She hadn’t noticed his eyes open to look at her. Jo began to sit up and reach for her glasses on the dash before she heard yet another whisper. “Lay back down, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

After a moment of slowing her heart rate, she turned back to him. “I’ve been thinking-” 

She paused long enough for him to shoot back. “Is that a first?” 

She playfully hit him on the chest. He laughed and shifted to face her. “What about?” 

Without her glasses on she could barely see his face but she could tell, by the tone of his question, that he was genuinely curious. So, she took a deep breath and began to speak in the metered tone of someone seeking the truth. “I have heard from all of the others about their stories and why they left but you have managed to always skate around the question. It's almost like you’re afraid…why?” 

He sighed and looked out the window at the lonely lights of the highway. Even if he knew that Jo couldn’t really see him in the darkness, there was something that was still trying to keep him from actually facing her. “I knew this was coming. How could it not? I suppose everything that goes up must come down eventually. It's always a matter of when. Yes, I came from a story, one that may not be as tragic as theirs,” he gestured to the back of the van, “But one that hurt just as much.” 

He began to examine his wrists, speaking in a whisper that even he could barely hear. “One that hurt enough for me to hurt myself.” 

 Jo looked back out of the window as well and closed her blind eyes. “I want to know about it.”

Silas lowered his hands, calmed his heart, and finally spoke that which lay on his mind. “It all started with this girl. Her name doesn't matter, all that matters is that she was beautiful. Still is, really, and we are- were in love… at least I always thought we were. I’m not really sure anymore. She would kiss me on the forehead and call me funny names or say things that would never fail to make me smile. In return I did my best to give her all of me. But my best never was enough. We lived together, breathed together, ate and slept together.” 

Jo envisioned the girl: tall, beautiful, and funny. All of the things she wishes she could’ve been back when that mattered. “She sounds wonderful.” 

Silas nodded and smiled at those old memories. Those old scars. “She was perfect. But it all started falling apart when she met another man who was so much more qualified for the job of ‘lover’ than I am. I tried my hardest to hang on to her but my grip was weak and she slipped away easier than a bar of soap in the shower. I became nothing but a background character in her life and, when I simply couldn't take it anymore, I just… left. Left her life, left her love, and, at last, left her world all together. For days I drove in this very van that I picked up for about a thousand dollars on the side of the road. With a duffle back of clothes, and a couple thousand in my account, I drove. I drove till I just couldn't anymore. I lost a lot of weight in the process, probably because I ate only enough to get by. I shaved my beard and hair in Georgia in a motel near Columbus. That razor’s last purpose was… well. I don’t know what I was thinking but I… I just kinda put it to my arms and closed my eyes. As my blood became thinner, and shock began to set in, I started to lose consciousness. During that time I had a dream where she had gone away from the story as well but I knew it was far too late for me to reclaim her favor. When I came to, I was hooked up to an IV in a hospital in Atlanta. Saved by some nosey house cleaning lady whom I had never met before and never saw again. By then I had already begun to forget myself. I doubted if I even deserved the second chance I was given but I also found myself unwilling to try again. Unwilling to look back. Instead of running away from life, I ran away from myself. I took on the name Silas as a way of becoming a new man and here we are now.” 

Jo sat absorbing the resounding silence left in the wake of his words. Unsure of why, she began to feel angry. “If I ever meet her I would tear her to pieces for getting rid of a wonderful man like you.” 

Silas chuckled “You could try. But if there is one thing I have learned from my time on the road is that self-harm isn't a good thing, Jo.” 

Her fatigued brain fought to make ends meet. However, the moment that connection was made, the silence that followed was deafening. “Phil…Oh my God.” 

Her hand wandered up to his face. His head moved away for a moment before resting his cheek on her palm. “Jo…” 

“Phil, I’m sorry, I-.” 

Bitter tears choked her throat and stole her words. She felt anger begin to swell within her. Toward the situation and toward herself as she began to understand that the love of her life had been under her nose the whole time. Maybe if she had paid a little more attention, when she had the chance, she would have seen that. Maybe if she wasn’t so caught up in everything, she would have taken a moment to actually look into his eyes. Had this been her old life ‘La Vie En Rose’ likely would have started to play as her heart began to flutter but it was instead ‘The Piña Colada Song’ that began to spew over the edge of the radio telling of an imperfect romance. Jo propped herself up on the leather seat and looked at him. Despite her blurred vision, this was the first time that she had ever seen him clearly. This was the first time that she actually saw him for who he is. Had her mind not been totally engrossed in the kiss that followed shortly after, she might have noticed the irony of it all but, as it was, she was utterly lost in the moment. A moment that she was not going to ever allow to fade ever again.

“Good late morning, my love.” 

Words floating along an ethereal plane pulled away at the fog of her consciousness. Huh, no dreams. No medication either. I haven’t felt this rested since I was like six.

When her eyes opened, the soft light of dawn flooded in. Through blurry vision showed the shape of a familiar face, the kind that you could only recognize after you have known someone for so long but maybe not quite long enough. “Get up, mistress. Haven't we somewhere to be?” 

The kind but gruff voice of Elara quickly broke through the peace of the moment. Jo sat up, stuck straight, as if she had just been awoken by a drill sergeant after she had been caught slacking in the obstacle course. Her mind made a brief flashback to her high school cross country days. Even the thought of running made her knee hurt. She shuddered and quickly stuffed those memories back into her mental filing cabinet. Phil laughed at the urgency for a moment before shifting the van into gear. “Only about three hours left before we get to New York city. We will only stop for the bathroom and emergencies and, no, just ‘walking’ is not an emergency.”

For the most part the trip was smooth and, besides a single bathroom break, there were no other stops. During the majority of it Jo was ‘asleep’. In reality, her body sat still as her mind a thought marathon. At the forefront was Phil. Philly Cheesesteak. Phil Patson, a man that she thought she had figured out the day they met. Phil Patson, king of ravioli and every other food under the sun. The one that gets motion sick by just watching the ferris wheel. A man that had seemingly burned away revealing Silas underneath. The responsible leader. The caring friend. The one who tried to kill himself because she had left him. No one is perfect, I guess.

She rolled over to face the window, her eyes tracing the blurred lines of trees as they rushed by under the afternoon sun. It's all so wrong but, at the same time, more right than it ever had been. He had changed, matured even. Yet here I am. The only thing about me that has changed is my god forsaken hair. 

Through cracked glasses, she read a sign saying ‘44 miles till Newark.’ Jo knew they would be there soon but she didn’t want to be there so soon. Everything was rushing fast enough to give her whiplash and she is still sitting back in her comfy chair with a novel desperately holding her neck. Why was he dragging me all the way to New York to fix my life when she ruined his life as well. Perhaps even more. Why the hell would he want to go back if- 

Jo began to sit up. Maybe he doesn't want to go back to how life was before. 

She began to study the man who she was only now beginning to understand. Maybe… Well, maybe I don’t either. 

They began to turn off at the exit and she had a small revelation. It wasn’t the kind that could change the world or even see the future and, had she been less naive she might have even had it long before any of this even occurred. Perhaps everything could have changed even before she met Clint. Before chapter one even started. Jo sighed and turned to face the driver's seat. Now or never. 

She paused for a moment. Why is this so hard? Alright, alright. Just breath, Jo, you can do this. 

"Phil… Phil,” 

She spoke softly so that only he could hear her and no one else. It was hard enough with only him listening. Not that it was necessary, Elara was asleep as was Misty. Beau was sharing an earbud with Matt and Moss was listening to an audiobook on baking so their privacy was their own to keep. “I need you to look at me, this won’t be easy for me to say otherwise.” 

He turned the rearview mirror so that only Jo’s hazel eyes were visible within its dirty confines. After a couple glances, his relaxed smile melted away as the desperation in her eyes became apparent to him.

“Look, I have been… a monster. I have been nothing but selfish ever since you've known me. Everything I am doing and have done was for my own happiness with no regard for anyone else. Truth is, it wasn't your fault that you fell out of my life. I pushed you away all because Clint was there. He was new, exciting, and I thought he made me happy, a feeling that I now realize was just delusion. Then suddenly it felt all wrong like something was still missing despite everything I tried. And, when it wasn't going the way I felt it should have, I ran away. I didn't want to face my own life like the coward I always have been. Look, I'm afraid. Afraid of being stuck in one place. Afraid of loving someone for too long because they might not be who I believed they should be. No matter how many times I run away from my fears, they will always catch up with me like running away from my own shadow. I thought I could fix it by blaming Madison but I was only breaking things further. I thought maybe all my fear and anger was her fault but I was only deflecting the blame from myself. What I am trying to say is that I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. Something had to change and that something was me, it was never you. I know that you may never forgive me, I only ask you to understand me. I never stopped loving you and I’m sorry that I made you believe I did."  

There were no tears this time. Just a feeling of numb acceptance. Phil didn’t continue to look at her and turned his head to the dashboard, his features fixed into grim neutrality. “We only have an hour until we are there.” 

“I know.”

Jo wanted to touch him, let him know she cared. That she had changed. Hand extended, she stalled. Have I really changed? Or am I just using excuses as a cop-out again?

Carefully, like touching glass, she lowered her hand onto his, careful not to cut herself on the still bloody shards of love.  “What will you do when you find her?” 

Jo hadn’t thought about this. What truly was the plan? She had never been one to really plan ahead but this was going to have to change. She was going to have to change, but how does someone even do that? “I don’t know what’s going to happen but we will face it together for a change. Not just alone.” 

Phil began to smile for the first time since their reunion. Not Silas, but Phil. “Like old times?” 

Jo nodded and allowed herself only the slightest spark of hope. “But better.”

Monuments of concrete and glass as tall as the sun cast long shadows across the crowded streets that made up the overwhelming magnitude of the ‘city so nice that they named it twice.’ Despite having grown up in Buffalo and visited NYC many times, Jo never felt more stifled here before now. It was like the buildings were looming over her shoulder and watching her every move. The renewed determination that pushed back against the rapidly encroaching walls was the only thing that kept Jo from becoming claustrophobic. While traffic moved at rush hour’s typical snail-esque pace, everyone in the van who knew how to use a phone properly, which only excluded Elara and Misty, was quickly searching for where the author Madison Wood lived. It turned out that her address was something that she liked to keep quieter than most. Beau found her instagram but there was nothing on it other than her name and a bio that said ‘author’. Her facebook told them that her age was 45 and was single but nothing more. It took digging through forums upon forums on the Red Water Publishing page to locate her address, just off 2nd Avenue, purely because one fan wanted to send her fan mail and had managed to convince her that it would be worthwhile. Jo assumed that, given her status as a world famous author, that she would be living in a top floor penthouse or a house just out of town. It made sense, why would a best selling author live in squalor? However, Jo couldn’t remember many large houses there in the center of the city, only large apartments. She just wished they could get there sooner but, in the heat of the rush to work, that was not about to happen. So, with their nerves on end and teeth gritted, they lay in wait.

Traffic began to clear in synchronized waves in tempo with the beat of Jo’s dreadfully slow heart. It is true that time spent standing still is time spent thinking how to begin moving again. Likewise, your mind in motion will spend the rest of its energy wishing it could stand still. This is, of course, only true when it comes to Jo. Her desperate mind was grasping at a nonexistent plan for a reality that was not too far away. She thought back to her ruminations earlier for what felt like an eternity until the desperate mind caught hold of an already realized piece of wisdom. I don't want everything to be the same. If it were the same what would stop my life from being ruined in the same way. I don’t want Phil to be his old self… I don’t want to be my old selfish and stupid self. Why can’t everything be like it is now? 

Her mind came to a neck breaking halt. Why can’t everything be like it is now? 

Hollow eyes witnessed as the buildings beyond the window began to speed up in pace of her heart once more. She straightened up in her seat and began to fidget, her teeth biting away at her already short nails. For what felt like the first time in her life, everything became clearer than the brightest crystal. “We are almost there, aren’t we?”

Beau nodded. “Oui, about fifteen to twenty minutes out.” 

Beau had become navigator while Jo was busy planning. He rather liked the job. It came with the certainty that you were always knowing where you were going. A certainty he had never felt before. “Have you figured out what you are going to do when we get there? Or will we once again be chié?”

Jo only half nodded. “I- uh… I think so. We’ll have to see.”

“Mossy, do you think Ms. Wood is nice?” 

Misty looked up at Moss with a curious look in her eyes. “I don’t know Misty, I have never met her.” Misty looked back down at her eighth consecutive drawing. “I hope she’s nice.” 

Harper knew he had to leave soon but he felt as if he had just arrived. A couple days would not be enough time to say all that had come to him over 24 years of thought and regret. He was afraid that his cowardice would keep him from changing or rather presenting the change. That he would always look like the same fool as when she left even if it wasn’t true. As he sat on the couch looking over the photo album once more, a knot formed in his stomach. He began to dread the flight home that night. As he closed the photo album, Madison stepped out of her room and gave him a look. It wasn't as harsh as the day before but not all the ice had melted yet. “I have to call my publisher and explain to him why my book is going to be late and hope that he doesn't kill me.” 

He nodded. He knew it was his fault but no amount of apologizing could make up for the months of work that he cost her. Not by being stubborn but simply not stubborn enough. As she sat at the table and slowly dialed the number with a shaking hand, Harper stepped out into the hallway, down the stairs and out onto the crowded street. He had never been a smoker but a cigarette had never felt so enticing. Instead, he fiddled with the pen in his pocket while sitting at the bus stop just outside the main door. Over the course of the next hour buses came and went, each one beckoning for him to run away.  The screech of the stopping tires would say: “Go home.” 

Every time his sigh would respond: “Not yet.” 

She hated this, every second of it. The wrath of a publisher is never something to be taken lightly. This is not a scolding by your mother or by a teacher. This was a rebuke by the person who controls whether or not you eat tomorrow night. James Clarence, the head publisher at Red Water, was the one that picked up. Likely because they knew her number very well and, since she almost never called, this was bound to be something big. His gruff, smoke a couple packs a day with no regrets, voice was jarring for her nervous brain even though his tone was neutral and borderline polite, surprising for a man with his job. “Hey, Madi, what’d ya need?” 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Hey, James. So…um about the uh the book-” 

“Madi, call me Jim. It ain’t like you haven’t known me for like, what? Two decades?”

She stifled a small anxious chuckle. “So… Jim, about my… uh- new… new book.”

“What about it?” His voice grew suspicious as she figured it would. “Is the process going well? Will you hit the deadline around December?” 

Even though she knew he couldn’t see it, Madi shook her head anyway. “No… I, uh-” 

She allowed the laugh to escape. Never in her life did she ever think of a sentence as ridiculous as the one that came next. “-lost…my main character?” 

Mentally she gave the largest shrug in the history of shrugs while physically she sat dead still. The weight of the silence that followed was palpable. Madison didn’t want to speak because it might make things worse and James didn’t know what to say. She could almost see him leaning back in his desk chair, hundred dollar El Septimo cigar twisting thoughtfully in his large hand. The period of hush was broken by a single phrase uttered in a whisper over the speaker. “What?” 

Madison didn’t even want to try and explain it because she couldn’t comprehend it herself. “My main character is gone. I had her then she was gone.” 

She could hear him begin to grow angry. “What do you even mean by that? What the hell do you mean by gone?” 

Madison gripped the bridge of her nose “I mean she left. There is nothing I can do about it.” 

He grew indignant. “Yes there is. Get her back goddamnit. A character can't just leave. Its words on a page, Madison.” 

Madi leaned over the phone. “But Jim-” 

“Call me James. Get her back, Madison. Get her back, whatever the hell that means, and finish the stupid book. If you don’t feel like it or you miss the deadline you probably should start finding a publishing company that is willing to invest time and money into your bullshit, Ms. Wood. Ciao.” 

Before she could respond she was cut off by the aggressive click and the flat tone of hanging up the phone. Her panic began to set in alongside a microdose of depression. Ok, a macrodose. Her hand slowly but forcefully pushed her phone onto the table before flinging it across the wood and onto the floor on the otherside. I might as well retire right now.

She slumped onto the table and blocked off the world around her preferring to daydream about when everything was simple. Her mind wandered back to her days at WVU when she published her first book. It was the second semester of sophomore year, 1998. Despite the lifetime that has passed since, she could remember it clearly as if it were yesterday. She had come home one night after a writing workshop feeling more “motivated” than she probably had any right to be. Cami asked what had her buzzing as she always did when she came home happier than usual. Partially it was the weed, which Cami wasn’t thrilled about in any sense of the word, but also that she had constructed a new character. Had she been in her right mind at the time, Madi would have noticed how much the character was just like Cami but at the moment she was too excited to write that it wasn’t even close to an afterthought. Cami asked what the character’s name was but Madison drew a blank. It wasn't until she was several chapters in that the name Jocelyn caught her eye. It was a ridiculous amount of time to work with an unnamed character but Madi was a perfectionist and the perfect name had to be found. In addition, the original name was Marie which was terribly obvious. That name was instead designated as Jocelyn's middle name. Only God knows where she possibly got that idea from.

Madison started to laugh at her old behavior. She really had been a pain in everyone’s side. The laughter came to a halt as the memory of that night in the dorm with her best friend inevitably made her start to crawl further down the rabbit hole of her college career. 

Shortly after the second semester she independently published the book: The Life Of Ms. Jocelyn M Thatcher which garnered the attention of Red Water Publishing kicking off her professional career. Once Harper and Cami heard about her getting signed on they quickly forced her into AA and made her get clean. They reasoned that she couldn’t possibly be professional and high at the same time. They were right, as usual, of course. To this day she still thanks them for keeping her alive although she never told Harper and never had the chance to tell Cami. This thought of sobriety inevitably led to that New Years party, the one that always haunted the deepest recesses of her dreams and lived only in dark thoughts. The year was 1999 and was soon to be 2000. It was the largest New Year's party of all time and the largest party she had ever attended although she was close to not even going. Shortly before this, in the first couple weeks of October, Harper cheated on her with Cami and, at the end of November, they were officially dating. Madison had been thrown out of her own relationship without even being told goodbye. The worst part? They carried on like nothing really had changed. Even with this she couldn’t bring herself to hate Cami. Instead, all of her righteous fury, given no other outlet, was set upon Harper. She nearly avoided the party altogether when she heard that they were going. Maybe she just didn’t want to see his face or maybe she was tired of seeing them together. Either way, the face in the mirror talked her into going in her best dress: an old pink prom dress that her mother bought her for her birthday.

The time was about 10:00 p.m. when Madison arrived. She could see Harper and Cami in the corner and decided, against her better judgment, to join them. As she approached she could immediately tell something was off. Cami was drunk and she was never drunk. Why the hell was she drunk? Her and Harper were clearly having an argument over something probably inconsequential. This argument lasted all the way until midnight. When it came time for the New Years kiss, Harper leaned in but Cami had had enough. She avoided his arms preferring a foot of distance from her boyfriend. When Madison asked what the problem was Cami responded in a slurred voice “That dumb b***h hasn’t said I Love You all night.” 

Harper came over at the same moment, sober as ever, and just as ignorant. He began to shout over the din of partying, happy couples. “Do you want to go home? I can get the car and-” 

 Suddenly yelling, Cami snapped back. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I would rather walk.” 

Throwing down the crumpled red solo cup in her hand, Cami staggered and stumbled to the exit without looking back. Madison turned to Harp and, seeing his lack of movement, pushed against his chest. “Aren’t you going to go after her?” 

Madison couldn’t believe her eyes. How could this man be so stupid, you don't just let a drunk girl go home alone. Especially at night. 

Harper shook his head “She needs her space.” 

After a moment of thought, Madison flashed the middle finger towards Harp and rushed out of the building to find her friend but, when she reached the fresh air of the new Morgantown morning, Cami was nowhere to be found. It was like she had become nothing but dust. Cami never came home that night or the next morning or the morning after that. It wasn’t until the week after that they really knew what happened. The very thought of the news article made Madison nauseous.

---

Rape Victim Found In Ditch Only Minutes Away From Campus

 By Bridger Vaun Watkins, The DA: WVU Student News

 Sun January 7, 2000

Tragedy struck in Morgantown just after the largest New Years Eve Party of the millenia.

Camilla Marie Florence (22), an English Education Major, caring friend, and loving daughter, was found dead in the ditch beside Campus Drive on January 2nd. The forensic specialists claim that she was raped the night of the party and died due to asphyxiation hours later. A search for the killer is ongoing but the authorities say that, without any witnesses, finding the culprit will be nigh impossible. The body of the young female was delivered to her family just today to be given more respect in death than was present in life.  

---

The article itself was buried deep in the West Virginia University student newspaper: The DA. Not a lot of people knew and, of those few that did, none cared as much as they should have. As much as her. They didn’t understand but how could they?  Of course, she blamed Harper. Why shouldn’t she? He was the one that let her go. He was the one that was responsible for the death of her best friend, the sister she never had. He was the one that was supposed to care. Madison’s mind thought back to the cemetery earlier. He did care. If he cared then why didn’t he say it earlier? Was he scared to? 

She pulled her head off of the table to the sound of the door opening as Harper stepped back through. He gave her a sentiment filled smile which she returned, it was the first time she had actually smiled at him in forever. It felt nice. He asked how it went. She gave the whole story. He sat down in the other chair at the table and handed her the phone off the floor. He gave words of sympathy that she could tell were genuine. That sort of recognition of truth after having worked with the lying snakes at Red Water for far too long. She said that it was ok, just ok, even though it really wasn’t. She could tell that Harper knew this and so he backed off a bit. In an effort to distract her a little, he bent down and picked up Elsa who had been hovering around the table leg. She hissed but calmed down as she was set on top of the table. After a moment of pensive wavering, she finally lay down as Harper began to smooth out her white, black, and beige fur. Madison joined in on petting her cat. At one point her hand touched Harper’s, it was warm. He smiled and she allowed herself a slight grin.