The Red Flag

Part LVIII - "One day..."

The beauty about staying in the master bedroom was the gorgeous bathroom attached to it. It was spacious and contained a large walk-in shower and a claw-footed bathtub. As badly as I wanted to let myself drift down in a warm bubble bath, I stuck to my cold shower.

I gingerly dried off and wrapped myself up in one of the fluffy towels. Calmly and quietly, I opened the door only to find that I was still alone. Apparently, Elijah was still on the phone.

I took advantage of this time to rummage through my bag in search of my pajamas. Back when I first told Aralyn about my weekend trip with Elijah she had utterly jumped out of her skin with joy. I watched her explore through my closet and drawers in hopes of finding something 'worth wearing', as she put it. The closest piece of lingerie I had was a dark purple, silk nightgown. The garment came to the middle of my thighs and was stitched with black lace along the hem.

I struggled to find the nightgown while my attention was being drawn to the balcony at the same time. Beyond those glass doors there waved an ocean that pushed against the powdery sand. Somehow, there was an internal pull that beckoned me towards the balcony. With both hands I pushed open the door and took my first steps out into the cool night air.

The high rising waves curled and fumbled over each other again and again. Hearing the sound of the water hitting the sand put me straight into a trance. My heart thundered in my chest like a tribal drum.

I rested my hands on the railing while my eyes idled on the horizon. All these years of avoiding the ocean and it felt like I had never left. Those days with my sister were still fresh in my mind. Her hair whipping in the wind. Her brown eyes transfixed on the water. . .

"Do you ever just want to see how far you can swim out there?" Veronica asked. She gestured to the ocean. The two of us sat at the top of the beach that day, alone. The rest of the family couldn't be bothered with things like this. They were never able to just sit and watch. Not like us.

The sun was starting to set in the sky. It was that time of the day where the ocean was its darkest against the horizon. Before night came and you'd no longer be able to tell them apart. By this time, all the other beachgoers had left. All that was left was just her and I.

"You know damn well that I'm afraid of the ocean," I replied with a raised brow. Of the two of us, I was never interested in exploring the deepest parts of the ocean.

She went on. "Isn't it just fascinating what could be out there, though?" My sister. The lover of the unique, obscure, and the unknown.

"One day I'm going to explore it," she decided.

Her insistence brought a smile to my lips. Together we looked out to the horizon. While she envisioned the untold possibilities of life beneath the surface, I was left pondering the idea of her risking her life for some silly exploration.

Instead of discouraging her like our parents, I simply sat back and nodded.

"Yeah, one day." . . .

"One day," I whispered. My eyes never left the water as the waves continued to crash upon the sand. Tears pricked my eyes.

There would have been a time where I would have considered a memory like that to be minor or insignificant. But being here- being so close to my sister- made every single detail all the more paramount.

Did this mean that I was ready to stand where we once did, on the edge of the shoreline where the water touched our feet? No.

All this memory had done was enable me to look out at the ocean again and listen. And, for now, I was perfectly content with just that.

A warm sensation spread across my shoulders and down my back. Suddenly the scent of pine trees swarmed my senses. Elijah's hand drifted up my neck to cup my cheek. He turned me to face him.

"You're so beautiful." His voice was impassioned and had left me shivering.

"So are you," I acknowledged. My gaze dropped down to his exposed chest. Back to those deep scars that raked across his torso. "Even with these."

I remembered how his body had tensed when I first grazed over them. He disregarded the topic so quickly, I wondered once more.

"Was it a knife?" The tone in my voice remained steady. It was no secret to me that this was a sensitive subject for him. But I wanted him- I needed him- to trust me too.

He let out a hiss when my fingers glided over the marks. "Yes."

The way the skin mended showed that the object was jagged. A hunting knife, maybe?

"Whoever did this, they knew you personally," I breathed. Meaning, this was not some random attack from a patient or stranger.

He swallowed hard. "How could you tell?"

My guess was that these wounds were not meant to be fatal. If this person was out to kill him then they would have aimed at a more vital part of his body. Instead, however, they chose to mark his chest.

It's almost as if they knew exactly where and how deep to push the blade. Enough to feel the pain but to never forget the reason why it happened. So, whenever he would glance down at the twin marks he would always be reminded of that person; and, perhaps, what he did to deserve them.

"For them to be located across your chest indicates that this person wanted you to feel the pain that they felt," I suggested. My fingers traced the marks one last time. "In here."

His brows drew together. "Like what?"

"Like a broken heart," I sighed.