Buried Secrets

Closure

I can’t do this. I feel my chest tightening just at the sight of the house. It’s run down, and quite faded from years in the sun.. There is no doubt about it, though. It’s Mr. Martins’ house. The press said he was clinically insane. Would he even remember me? I read somewhere that people with psychological disorders can lose the ability to remember faces. That thought scares me more than anything. Is it even possible that he doesn’t even remember what he did to me? To my family? I swallow my fear and start the walk up his pathway, stopping at the door. Three quick knocks, and I’m trembling so much I almost collapse. I hear a shuffling sound behind the door, and the sound of two locks clicking before the door opens. The man that stands in front of me is tall, easily 6’4. His dark hair is contrasted by his sparkling, yellow-green eyes. I feel my heart in my throat as a look of confusion, then recognition passes through those petrifying eyes. “I know you…” He rasps out in a deep voice, a light smirk playing across his face. “Hello, Daniel” He opens the door more fully, revealing himself to be in only a pair of sweatpants. "I guess you're hear for closure. I remember your face from the news articles. You really haven't changed at all, you know? Same slender form, same blue eyes." He pauses and looks me up and down. "I guess some things have changed, after all." He muttered with a light smile playing on his lips. I shudder in disgust and quickly take a step back. This was a bad idea, I knew it was. This creep hadn't changed either, apparently. Same disturbing gaze, uncomfortable words, chilling voice. The only noticeable difference is he seems much buffer. He had always been strong, but now he was noticeably muscular. Not overwhelmingly so, but just enough to show he had some serious power. "Why don't you come in? I can make us some tea." His voice startles me out of my close examination, and I look up at him. For once, I don't see that familiar look of greed in his eyes. Perhaps he has changed. Remembering my pepper spray in my pocket, I nod and follow him indoors. There are half emptied cardboard boxes everywhere, save for the space around the couch, and the path to the kitchen. I notice the stairs leading upstairs and shiver. Don't think about that. "I apologize for the mess, I only started unpacking a few days ago and I'm still some ways from finishing. Half the rooms aren't even furnished yet." He explains as we enter the spacious kitchen. It's different than I remembered; he must have remodeled it at some point. 

“How do you take your tea?” His voice startles me out of my thoughts and I find myself staring up at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Iced?” I try to joke, but the tension is palpable, a living breathing creature that surrounds the room. I can feel the panic start to well up in me again as I sit down at the table. I watch Alexander with carefully eyes as he fixes our drinks, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he put something in mine. I certainly wouldn't put it past him. But after a couple sips, with no bitter taste, I judge it safe enough to drink and go back to my careful observation. 

"I wanted to apologize." He said suddenly. This comment takes me off guard and I'm tensing up, a cold feeling spreading throughout my body. "I know I hurt you. I mean, I wasn't aware of it at first, but these past few years I've had nothing to do but reflect. I know this means nothing to you, but I wasn't myself back then. I was so consumed with greed, and jealousy, I didn't care who I hurt to get what I wanted. I'm sorry, Daniel." I take another sip of my tea and turn to face him fully. "So that's it? Years of therapy, and medications to fix the damage you caused, the trauma you caused, is supposed to be all better because you apologize?" I suddenly feel sick, the tea leaving a sour taste in my mouth and I stand up. I shouldn't be here, I should have never come back here. I thought Doctor Clawthorne was right, that this would give me some sort of closure, but all it has done is open an old, blistering wound. "I have been terrified of you, every day since I was rescued, and suddenly I realize that my fear was misplaced. You are nothing but a man, and you mean nothing to me. I refuse to let you have this hold on me any longer. Goodbye, Mr Martins." With that, I turn towards the door, but a strong grip on my arm stops me in my tracks.

"Wait, please. I want to fix things, I want to help heal some of the pain I caused. Let me try, at least." He says, green eyes pleading with me. I look at him, a pitying look, and scoff. 

"How could you ever fix what you've done. Goodbye." I say with more finality. I break away from him and head outside to my car, all the while he's shouting my name, begging me to come back inside. It's not until I'm driving away that I realize I'm crying.