Three Eleven Thirteen

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The neighborhood was beautiful. Set on top of a hill, you could look down at the farmlands below. 

Ellie and I walked endlessly for days. My shoes were dragging the concrete, and I wished I had another pair along with me. Not to mention we had left Marley's place so suddenly that I didn't think about changing clothes. I was still wearing a 1940's vintage dress that was now blanketed in grime from sleeping on the side of the road for two days.

"Riley's house should be a few blocks down." I tell Ellie, who is observing a dog behind one of the house's fences. It's barking madly at us, and yet, Ellie does not waver, in fact, he looks fascinated. Our outside endeavors that have spanned through the last couple of days have really opened him up. He's still cautious around people, especially due to the Marley incident, but were a group of people to walk near us, he wouldn't attack them, at least I was pretty sure he would stay sane. Cars no longer scare him, and it seem that dogs definitely don't either.

He moves alongside me again, and we continue to walk, "I do not understand, Ripley."

"Don't understand what?"

"Dogs."

I grin, "I don't think they understand you either."

"Yes," He says after pondering my words, "I am very different."

"Compared to a dog, you are."

"Interesting."

I wait until he stands again, and we begin to move once more. He is so close to me that I take the opportunity to intertwine my arm with his. After everything that went down with Marley, I've felt comfort only in Ellie's touch. Holding on to him was my own secret stabilizer. I don't know what he thinks, I don't know if he realizes I've been grabbing him, clinging to him, more and more since Marley occurred.

I find it hard to sleep, well, harder than it already was sleeping on the ground.

Sometimes if it is to quiet, and we walk alone, I think about Marley, and my heart races and I can't control myself from panicking even though I know he's dead, and I know I'm fine. I still feel those thoughts, the thoughts I had when I was locked up in the bedroom, wondering if tonight will be the night that Marley takes me as his own.

Despite how I'm feeling, I don't dare bring up my trauma with Ellie, because I'm convinced he has trauma of his own. I don't know what Marley did to him, I don't know what Ellie went through when he was buried. I'm too scared to bring it up, because I don't want to remind him about it.

He's been different, though.

He's been quieter, which isn't saying much because he doesn't talk a lot anyway. When I ask him if he's ok, he nods, and refuses to indulge in any conversation whatsoever about how he feels.

It kills me to know that he's suffering too, but I also have no idea how to help him when I'm going through similar thoughts.

Riley's house is now in view. I stare at it, remembering the many times I've come here as a kid, only to sit and secretly listen to both he and my father talk about Ellie. Now my father is gone, and Ellie is here to talk about himself. Whatever is wrong with him, Riley would know. He has to know.

We approach the house and I knock on the door. Ellie looks hesitant, his eyes glued to the door like whatever will open it would harm us.

I think about reassuring him, but I know the effort would be pointless. Last time I didn't trust his fear, we both almost died.

I say nothing and wait for someone to greet us.

Seconds later, the door swings open and a woman stands in the doorway, staring at us. I know her as Riley's wife. The last time I saw Riley they were engaged. I only met the woman once. What was her name? Jamie? Jane? Jordan?

"Hi." I say, trying to sound as kind and non-threatening as possible, though I knew it wasn't working. I was wearing a torn dress, caked in mud, my hair is in tangles, and the soles of my shoes are torn.

It is a wonder why she didn't slam the door on us and call the police.

"I'm-err-we're here to speak to Riley." I'm not sure if she'll remember me, but I try anyway, "It's me, Ripley? My dad and Riley were good friends. You and I met once before, though it was a while ago."

Her eyes widen, as if she only just remembered who I am, "Ripley! Yes, I do remember you. You've grown! How are you?" She looked around, "And where's your father?" Her eyes landed on Ellie, "and who, pray tell, is this?"

I beckon towards Ellie, "This is Ellie, uh, a good friend of mine. He's actually why we are here. We have some questions we'd like to ask Riley, if it is no bother to him."

"Of course, come on in." She opens the door even wider for us, and self-consciously Ellie and I move in, though we are both filthy, and the shiny wood floors seem too clean for us to even look at, let alone stand on.

"Riley's out in the shed, I'll go fetch him." She leaves both me and Ellie standing awkwardly in the entryway. I take this moment to carefully run my fingers through my hair to brush some of the tangles out. When it's as good as it can get without an actual brush and water, I reach up and begin fixing Ellie's hair. Something I should have done before we arrived here.

"We are a mess." I hiss at him, making sure I don't speak loud enough for Riley or his wife to hear. "We look homeless."

Technically, we are.

Ellie brings his hand up and touches my cheek, "Dirt." He says, and I quickly wipe at my face, horrified that I did not think to check my reflection earlier.

He is about to say something else when the back door opens, and through the kitchen Riley's wife appears again, and behind her follows Riley.

He looks older, his hair is no longer entirely the familiar brown that I remember, and instead is a mixture of brown, grey, and white. There are more wrinkles around his eyes, and he looks tired. I wonder why.

He notices me first and opens his mouth to speak but stops when his eyes trail to Ellie. It is as though I physically could see the blood drain from his face. His body stiffens, and he swallows hard.

"Fuck." He whispers to himself. He then turns to his wife, and says, "Joy, I think you should go to your mother's house for a while."

Her eyes narrow, her voice near breathless, "What?"

"Please, I'll explain everything later, but it's not safe here."

"You're scaring the hell out of me, Riley."

He grabbed her arm, looked her in her eyes and said, "Trust me."

She stares at him for a long, decisive moment before nodding once, showing complete trust in her husband, and walks upstairs. Not ignoring us while doing so. Her and my eyes lock once more before she's gone up the stairs.

Riley turns to us, and all he says is, "We're going to the shed."