Hello Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Owf.” The floor sounds like a man and it’s a lot softer too, with the smell of citrus and rain. The only pain I feel is from the random elbow in the side and the throbbing in my foot. “Why don’t you ask for a spotter next time,” Talum breathes from beneath me.

I roll from him. The briefcase now broken open, papers like a checkerboard on the floor. I stand, limping, trying to gather them up before he sees. Not that I know what I’m hiding—it just seems so personal. I want to see them first.

“You’re hurt,” he says pointing at my bloody footprints.

“It’s fine.” I brush him off as he tries to help me gather the papers.

“We really should get it cleaned up before it gets infected.”

I toss the papers back into the briefcase, careful not to look too long and draw his attention. Work papers—they all just look like work papers. I’d try the key later, when I was alone. Just to be sure.

I snap the briefcase shut. “When did you get here?”

“Breccan said he had something to do and suggested I come over until Derek gets back.”

“Of course, he did.” I roll my eyes limping towards the house.

“Is everything alright?”

I stumble.

“Here. Let me help you.” He tries lifting my arm over his shoulder. My skin tingles where his hand rests on my waist sending warmth through my body.

“I’m fine.” I push away, but wince on the next step.

“You’re hurt. You need help.” He tries to grab my arm again.

I know he means well, but heat rushes down my spine. I bite back the tears. “Don’t. Touch. Me. I can do it myself.” The words taste like acid, cold and bitter.

He steps back, furrowing his brow. He hadn’t heard Breccan use those same words earlier—he doesn’t know how they sting in the fresh wound. I’m hurting inside and out, but I won’t let him see my tears. Even if pain shoots up my leg each time I put pressure on my foot, the splinters burrowing deeper.

I hobble up the steps and into the house. His hands hover inches from my back, ready to catch me if I fall but he never makes contact. I make it to the kitchen and grab a dishcloth from the drawer.

“Charley,” he says my name like a breeze, steady and soft. “Can I help you get that cleaned up?”

I look at the cloth in my hand. Alma would be pissed if I ruined her new dishcloths. “Yes.” I lower myself to the floor, my foot pulsing with the release of pressure and Talum disappears into the bathroom. I watch blood drip from my heel to the floor. It was in this very room where I received the call from Alma. Another day that would forever be engraved in my mind. “Nana was complaining of chest pain and I took her to the hospital.” A long pause. “She’s gone, Charley.” Were the only words I heard.

When Talum returns his arms are full of peroxides, different size bandages, gauze and tweezers. He lifts my foot, examining it, his hands cool and a little wet.

“Nothing appears too deep.” He grazes a finger along the side of my foot—dabbing the blood away with a towel. “This looks like the worst one, but I don’t think it’ll need stitches.”

“I told you I was fine.” A tendril of guilt wiggles it way through my chest. “I’m sorry, for snapping at you earlier.”

He meets my gaze, acknowledging my apology and continues cleaning my foot. The peroxide stings as the bubbles fizz cleaning the tiny scrapes. Talum tweezes the wood shavings until he was satisfied he got them all.

“I hope this was worth it.” He gestures towards the case. His eyes dancing with blue curiosity.

“Could you not mention the briefcase to anyone?” I know it might raise more questions, but I would rather Talum have them than Alma or Breccan.

He pauses. “Sure.” His eyes hold me in an intense stare as he offers a hand and I take it, pulling myself from the ground. “But you will tell me if it has anything to do with what’s going on, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I agree. It’s not a lie. I don’t know what is in the case, and if something of importance comes up then maybe I will tell him.

He helps me to the couch, acting only as a crutch in case I can’t put pressure on my foot. I lean back and lift my legs onto the couch and he props one of Alma’s throw pillows under it to keep it elevated. “Your ankle seems a little swollen. I want you to keep ice on it, in case you sprained it.”

“Yes, Doc,” I say saluting him with two fingers. “One more favor. Can you put that briefcase in my bedroom?”

When he returns he sits in the small space between my foot and the edge of the couch and we sit in our comfortable silence as I flip through the channels.

“Did you know that man that came to see Selene yesterday?” I ask flipping to some old soapy drama.

He lifts his eyes from my foot. “I’m not sure who you’re referring too.”

“He had a cane. Dark hair.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Lazarus? He’s her husband.”

Her husband. But she looks nothing like the woman that was at the house.

His blue eyes study my face. “Why?”

“I thought I recognized him.” I run my fingers along the seam at the bottom of my shirt. “How long have they been together?”

He leans back, his eyes narrowing. “As long as I’ve known them.” He pauses. “What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes.

“If something’s wrong you need to tell me.”

I gulp, unsure of how to bring it up without accusing. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but the day my parents were murdered, a man came over to the house with his fiancé. I was sure that was him.” Everything bubbles up and tears prick my eyes.

Talum studies the floor, thinking. “How long ago was that?”

“Fifteen years.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not possible, we’ve been here less than ten. Have you told anyone else?”

I scoff. “No. They wouldn’t have believed me anyways. Are you sure it couldn’t have been him?”

He shakes his head. “Yes, I’m sure. Not only were we not in the area, but I trust Laz and Selene with my life. They couldn’t do something like that.”

“Not Selene. Just—” I can’t say his name. Like putting a name to him would make him a human. “Him.” I pause. “The woman wasn’t Selene. She had auburn hair and her face was round. Selene’s features are sharper. I know it wasn’t her. He didn’t have a cane though.”

His eyes widen as if this is further confirmation. “That’s not a recent injury.”

“How did he get it?”

“In a car accident when he was a teenager.”

It couldn’t have been him. “I’m sorry—I think this has all gotten into my head.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

The door knob jiggles. Alma and Derek pop through the door. Alma’s gaze immediately goes to the gauze wrapped around my foot.
“What happened?” She walks to my side, but the question is directed at Talum. I muffle my irritation.

He flicks his eyes to mine, through silent conversation I beg him not to mention the briefcase. “She cut her foot on a piece of glass in the back. Nothing major,” he shrugs. “Just a little rest and she’ll be good to go.”