THE BOY WHO NEVER SPOKE | Complete

Chapter Thirteen

The knock at the door caused Alissa and me to jump out of bed. We had slept for a long time, and it was dark outside. We had no plans with anyone, so I didn't understand who could be banging on the door at this time.

"Coming," I yelled, giving Alissa a confused look, wondering if she had any idea who might be at my door at this hour. "Who is it?" I asked as I made my way to the door, but the voice that replied was a familiar one. "It's Sara. Open up!"

I opened the door and gave Sara a sharp look, telling her to cool down when knocking on someone's door. But she paid no attention and made her way into the living room with a paper in her hand, a paper that looked a lot like the one Alissa had received.

"Come check this out," Sara said as she patted on the sofa, and that's when Alissa walked into the room, completely taking Sara by surprise. "God, you're hot," Sara said as she leaped up. "I mean hi..." she added to hide her embarrassment, "I'm Sara."

"And I'm Alissa," she giggled. "Thanks for the compliment."

"I'm sorry," Sara said, staring at the floor. "But your boyfriend never really described you to me, and I just assumed you'd be a chubby girl with goggles based on the way he looks," she teased.

"I'm right here, you know," I said, opening my arms to get their attention back. But it was useless because they both started laughing at Sara's comment. "It's nice that you guys are bonding over how ugly I am right now, but there are bigger things to deal with," I pointed at the paper in Sara's hand.

Alissa scanned the note as Sara opened it on the table. "Is that also blood?" she asked as she touched it with the tip of her finger and smelled it. "I don't know," Sara said. "Some random man came and gave it to me," she turned to look at me. "He said I know exactly who I should be giving this to."

Silence filled the table. Why would we receive two bloody letters in less than a week?

"Jeremiah?" I asked.

"No, it couldn't have been," Sara replied. "It was an old man."

"What if it was Jeremiah's messenger?" Alissa said out loud. "I mean, he isn't dumb enough to come show himself in person."

I nodded. "I mean, she has a good point," I turned to Sara. "Don't you think?"

Sara looked at Alissa. "Do you think Jeremiah would say this?" she picked up the paper to read out loud, "At some point, you'll have to choose, Ezekiel. Your brother or your lover?"

Alissa turned to face me, her eyes growing anxious. "Do they mean, like, death?"

"I'm sure it isn't like that-" I said to comfort her, but Sara interrupted me. "It's exactly like that."

"Sara-" I said before she interrupted me again. "No Ezekiel," she yelled. "No more hiding stuff from her. Not when her life is at stake."

Alissa got up. "What do you mean hiding stuff?" she said. "You're hiding things from me?"

"No," I sighed. "I've been seeing Sara for a while now, so obviously there are things I haven't mentioned, and not willingly."

"What do you mean, not willingly?" Alissa asked furiously.

I let out a breath. "I mean, if I didn't mention something, it's probably because I don't remember talking about it."

"Fine," she says as she crosses her arms.

Sara seems uncomfortable being here. I mean, sure, it was going well at the beginning, but Alissa and I need to stop having stupid little arguments every here and there because it isn't healthy for our relationship.

I think to myself about what the letter means, mostly about who it came from. I doubt it's Ash because even he isn't stupid enough to threaten Alissa, nor is it Jeremiah because I'm pretty sure he is too busy to threaten anyone. Who could it be?

"I have a confession to make," Alissa says. "It's about my father," she adds.

Sara drops the magazine she was reading, and I stop staring at the letter like I have been for the past ten minutes. "What is it, love?" I ask.

"My father was a drug dealer too," she says. "He was murdered because of a deal gone wrong out in Manchester, and that was the last my mom and I heard from him." Alissa cries, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you; I was just embarrassed."

I got up and took her in as she cried. I couldn't help but acknowledge how good she smelled, even though that shouldn't be my main focus at the moment. But the cherry blossom cologne she put on in the morning still lingered.

"I'm sorry to hear that, my love," I say. "And don't apologize for not telling me anything about it."

She wipes her tears with the sweater she took from my closet, a plain black sweater, my favorite, but I'll allow it this time. "That isn't the point, Ezie," she says as she looks me in the eyes.

"I was about four years old when it happened. My dad was going to do his business, and he argued with mom before doing so, as usual," she cried. "The last time he went out, he got shot, and his body was found in Manchester," she added, but she cried even more.

"It's okay, love," I get up to get her a cup of water. "Do you need anything from the kitchen?" I say to Sara. "No, I'm all good."

I hand over the glass of water to Alissa, and she chugs it all at once, then gets up and goes to the bathroom, leaving Sara and me alone.

"This ought to be good," Sara says, and I nudge her with my hand. "What?" she says. "It's not like our stories ever have a normal ending." She takes a sip of the beer she got from my fridge.

"First of all," I take the beer from her hand, "you said you don't want anything." I say as I take a sip. "And second of all, this tastes horrendous." I giggle as I hand the bottle back.

"I'm just saying, Ezie," Sara says as she drinks the beer casually, "this story has a dark ending to it; I can feel it."

After some time, Alissa comes back out of the bathroom and sits down next to Sara and me. "Can I continue?" she asks. "I think I'm finally ready."

"Sure, love, go on," I say.

Alissa lets out a deep breath, "After a while, the cops found fingerprints on the bullets and could identify the person who shot my dad, or at least loaded the gun. Which was great news for Mom and me because we can put this all behind us and go on with our lives after what seemed like years." She takes a deep breath and pauses for a bit.

I place my hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality and away from her thoughts, "What is it, love?" I ask, "What did the cops say?"

Alissa puts her hand on mine, "The fingerprints matched someone. A wanted drug dealer in Manchester whose house got burnt down by his kids." Her words felt like a knife to my chest because I knew what the next sentence  was, I knew what was coming.

"Your father, Ezie." She finally adds.