Page 71 of Beneath the Scars
Tears flow down my face, a product of trying to exorcise the demons in my head. Mom always told me that when our bodies are so full of emotions, sometimes the only way we can get them out is through our eyes. Her explanation gave me permission to cry whenever I needed to, when all I had learned before was that tears were a quick way toward a beating.
Despite my efforts, the repressed memories still come of baby Zane.
He never cried.
I don’t know if he knew it would lead to horrible things or if he was born knowing how to survive that hellhole, but he’d make these little squeaks when he was hungry. At four, I’d made it my mission to take care of him. I’d watched our mom make him enough bottles that I knew what to do when she was lost in her drug haze.
Those early years weren’t horrible.
Our biological mother would mostly leave us alone. Now and then she’d make us something to eat, but for the most part, we fended for ourselves. Or at least, I did my best to keep Zane alive.
I remember being so excited to have a little brother. I thought I’d finally have a built-in friend to play with and keep me company when I didn’t have anyone else around.
And that’s how it was. For a little while, at least.
Zane was my best friend, even if he was too little to really play the same things I played.
Then Mom brought home a boyfriend one day, and our lives were irrevocably changed. I did my best to shield Zane from him, but I couldn’t always stop the monster.
One day, a knock at the door led to me being locked in a closet. I was told that if I made a single noise, I wouldn’t get to eat the rest of the week. I was already starving, so I didn’t make a sound.
I was left in there all day, and when I was finally allowed to leave, Zane was gone. For four years, I was the only target for their rage. My memories of my little brother slowly disappeared in a haze of pain that I had to block out for my own sanity.
It was pure survival that I never thought about him again. My only goal each day was to not piss off the adults.
And now he’s here. How the fuck did he find me? How is he connected to Addie? Did he purposely seek her out?
The thought makes me straighten.
I need the entire story. Right fucking now.
I’m breathinghard as I burst back into the police station. I don’t even know if they’re still here. I can’t imagine my dad would let this guy go without an explanation, but who knows? Maybe he really is a con artist and spun this fantastical story about being my half brother.
I step into the doorway of the small interrogation room. I’m looming, really, trying to put up a front that this guy isn’t going to get away with whatever story he’s about to weave.
Zane remains at the table, his hands in his hair, while he rests his elbows on his knees. There’s a cup of water in front of him, but Dad and Uncle Cooper aren’t here anymore.
His head whips up at my entrance. Those familiar hazel eyes spear me with regret and longing.
Okay, so he looks like the Zane I once knew. His hair even sticks up the same way it did when he was a baby.
“Start talking. Did you stalk Addie? Does she know? How the fuck are you here?”
Zane rubs the back of his neck. “No, I didn’t stalk Addie. No, she doesn’t know. And I honestly don’t know how this happened.”
I simply stand here, my arms locked across my chest. I make an imposing figure. I’m fully aware I’m using my stature to intimidate him. But he needs to know I won’t put up with bullshit.
“The way Addie and I met was purely by coincidence. I worked at UNC as a janitor, and Addie was one of the few people who saw me as a person. She was magnetic. I couldn’t help but be drawn in by how warm and welcoming she is. I’d never felt so accepted in my entire life.”
The sincerity of his voice makes me soften just a fraction. I’m fully aware of the effect Addie has on people.
“We started hanging out. I got to know her slowly, and one day, she was lamenting about how much she loathed being in love with you. She hated that she couldn’t get over a guy who had no interest in her. So I said, ‘Show me a picture of this guy.’ I wanted to know what the stupid idiot who didn’t love Addie looked like.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking. As I’ve gotten to know him a little better, I can imagine this conversation between the two of them. It’s exactly what he’d have said in that moment.
“I almost had a heart attack when I saw you. Fuck, you looked exactly the same.” He leans back and pulls out his wallet. Then he’s handing a well-worn Polaroid to me. I cautiously take it, as if it’s going to come alive and bite me.
I suck in a breath when I see the two of us as kids. He’s right. I don’t look much different now than I did back then. My arm is wrapped around Zane in his stroller, a genuine smile on my face as we cheese it up for the camera. We were at a local carnival that day. A guy and his wife noticed that our mom wasn’t around. They’d asked if I knew where she was, and I’d told them she left with a friend and we were waiting for her to come back.
