After Life Page 6

  ‘Help me, help me, help me,” the boy was saying so loudly her ear drums hurt. She needed him out now!

  “Fine, I’m going. Bloody hell, you’re as loony as Rhianna said you are.”

  His words were like a slap in her face. Stung.

  She marched to the door and flung it open, not caring if that exposed him to any teachers or other students who might report him. Her muscles were rigid. Her body was shaking. “Yeah, and you’re a murderer,” she said as he walked out into the hall along with his brother.

  His head snapped back to look at her—his face was shaped as though she’d just pummelled him in the stomach with a sledgehammer.

  Such disappointment gleamed in his eyes.

  She ignored him, slammed the door and leaned back against the hard timber. Guilt settled on her shoulders, weighing her down, thieving her breath.

  She shouldn’t have said that. It was much too harsh. Theron wasn’t a murderer, but the way he spoke to her, calling her loony, was the final straw. She’d heard it enough from the students in the school halls and classrooms, but the last person she wanted to hear it from was Theron.

  Outside earlier that afternoon, he had managed to convince her that he was different.

  She was wrong.

  He was exactly like everyone else.

  Chapter 8

  A gunshot sounded. The blast vibrated Zoe’s heart and hammered her ears. The spray of blood and bone splattered across her face.

  She sat up, gasping for air.

  The dim light of the lamp illuminated her bedroom.

  Theron’s brother was standing beside her bed. Half his skull was missing. Blood ran down his face. His eyes were rolling back into his head, only the ghostly whites showing.

  She bit down on her lip to stifle a scream until she could taste blood in her mouth. Her body was shaking. She lay back against her pillow and pulled her covers over her head.

  For seven nights in a row, she woke to the sound of a bullet blasting Theron’s brother’s head.

  Chapter 9

  Zoe arrived early at her form class, desperate to speak to Theron and put an end to his brother’s late-night visits. But she hadn’t seen him at school since her accusation of murder.

  Every time she thought about that now, her stomach sunk. She wished, truly wished, she hadn’t lost herself to anger and blurted out the first hurtful insult that came to mind.

  The worst hurtful insult.

  She’d managed to ignore Daniel and Rhianna all week by sitting at the front of her classes she shared with them and not acknowledging their presence. Same at meal times; she sat close to Asher, keeping her focus on her plate.

  But today, she needed to muster the courage to speak to Daniel because it was vital she talk to Theron.

  After form class, she hung by the door until Daniel and Rhianna strode out of the room. Her stomach was a tangle of nerves. She was not in the right frame of mind to deal with anything after a full week of very little sleep.

  “Can I talk to you quickly?” she said, touching Daniel’s arm.

  He stopped and moved toward the back wall, just outside the door.

  Rhianna smirked and arched a brow. “Why, was there a ghost in class?”

  Zoe swallowed hard, letting that insult wash over her. Getting angry or upset at Rhianna now wouldn’t solve her problem. She kept her eyes on Daniel’s face. “Do you know when Theron will be back?”

  “Not sure if he is coming back,” he said, words clipped.

  Oh shit, I broke him. That was not her intention at all. She wanted to hurt him with words like he did to her. But their insults were not in the same ballpark. Hers was ridiculously wrong.

  Zoe swallowed the swelling lump in her throat. Adrenalin stormed through her veins causing a slight tremble. “I need to talk to him about something important.”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything important that could come out of your mouth,” Daniel said.

  “You’re just a freak,” Rhianna chimed, her lips pouting.

  Daniel pressed his face closer to Zoe’s. “Why don’t you do me a solid and go back to Somerset. Take your crazy with you because I’m sick of seeing you around here as though you have a right to be making us all miser—”

  “Shut up!” Zoe hissed. Daniel had every right to defend his friend, but he was being downright mean. They both were. She was sick of blunt insults as though she somehow deserved them. She was tired of people thinking they could treat her like shit. And for what? In the end, what did it achieve?

  Daniel squeezed his lips together and stared at her. Rhianna sneered.

  “Does it give you a confidence boost to be so rude to me? Stop being such a dick and tell Theron I need to talk to him, urgently.”

  Daniel sighed, and Rhianna laughed.

  Zoe clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Do. You. Understand?” Her words were shaky, but loud, as years of suppressed anger bubbled to the surface.

  Daniel nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell him.” But his lips were curling at the corners, and there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

  Seeing that mocking expression stirred her bounty of resentment deeper. “If you don’t or if you talk to me like I’m worthless ever again, I’m going to come to your room, and I’m going to haunt you while you sleep. Got it?”

  His face straightened and he took a step back. “I said I’ll tell him.”

  “Good,” she said and strode away.

  ◆◆◆

  When Zoe opened the door, Theron was standing in the hall. He was a picture of solemnity—a deep frown and such sorrow in his green eyes.

  Zoe’s heart ached to see him like this. “I’m so sorry I called you a…” she stammered, unable to say that wretched word again. “I didn’t mean it. Not at all. It was stupid of me. So stupid. I know the truth about what happened. It was a terrible accident. I’m so very sorry.”

  Theron’s nod neither acknowledged nor dismissed her apology. “Daniel said you needed to talk to me.” His tone was flat.

  Zoe sighed. Her apology couldn’t go unheard. She wanted to communicate that she didn’t mean to accuse him of something so horrible. She scratched her head, pulled on her earlobe. “You want to go for a walk?”

  He shrugged, glanced at his wristwatch. “A short one.”

  Zoe marched back inside and slipped her shoes on. They were silent as Theron led her quickly down the hall to a cleaning cupboard at the end. They went inside the darkened room and out a door in the back that led along an unused hall to a stairwell Zoe didn’t even know existed. It took them down three floors to the ground floor and outside.

  It was almost dark. Bright oranges and pinks painted the sky. Great flocks of birds flew overhead, back to their nests.

  They started toward the football fields under the shadows of the maples. For a long moment, Zoe considered what she needed to say to make things right between them, unsure that words to that effect existed but she had to try, regardless. “It must have been terrible to lose your brother that way, and I had no right to call you names. I’m so very sorry.”

  Theron met her gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, weary. “That’s the thing, Zoe. I am a murderer. I shot him. He died there in front of me.” He slapped his chest. “Because of me.”

  She shook her head hard. “You didn’t mean it.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “The result is still the same.”

  Her throat was raw. Her body ached with sympathy. She stopped walking, gripped his forearm and looked up at his face. “Theron, you’re not a murderer. Murderers kill with intent. What you did was an accident. Believe me, I know, I had a ringside seat every night this week.”

  His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “Your brother has been visiting me. He shows me the moment he d—died over and over again.”

  “You saw what happened?”

  “Yes.” Zoe built the courage to say what she knew she needed to say—the only thing that would make all this r
ight. She shook the tension from her hands, then looked at Theron and said, “I’m going to help you.”

  Chapter 10

  Zoe’s bedroom door was closed, trapping a suffocating quiet inside. The sound of her breathing seemed frustratingly loud. Asher was down in the dining hall having dinner, so there wasn’t even external noise to interfere.

  Zoe’s stomach knotted with nerves as she sat on her bed. She wrung her hands and practised deep, calming breaths. Never had she confronted a spirit. Especially not since she learned that ignoring them caused them to fade into silence.

  But when a little boy had his brains blown all over her face night after night, options dwindled.

  Theron settled beside her with hunched shoulders and solemn eyes. His hair was unbrushed, and a sparse blond stubble covered his square jaw. His breaths were loud, shallow.

  “Is he here?” he asked.

  Zoe searched the room. She couldn’t see the boy but knew he was here because a layer of goosebumps was spreading over her arms, and the temperature was dropping.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Barkley,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Barkley, I’m here to help you.” Her voice was shaky like her hands that squeezed tightly together in her lap.

  A gunshot cracked through the space. A splash of blood and brains hit her face. She flinched, eyelids flickering closed, and gasped.

  No matter how many times that had happened, it frightened the hell out of her. Barkley’s eyes rolled back. The fresh wound leaked blood down his face.

  “Please, stop doing that!”

  Theron stiffened beside her and sat taller.

  “Help me, help me, help me,” said Barkley. Over and over. His voice made her bones ache and teeth grind against each other.

  She pressed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. “Barkley, stop it. If you don’t stop, I won’t help!”

  The whining grew softer, then halted altogether. She peeled her eyelids open again and removed her hands from her ears. Barkley was standing beside Theron, his head pressed to his face and his arm around his back. He was so small compared to Theron; it was hard to believe that Theron was ever a little boy.

  “How do I help you?” she asked.

  The boy faded and appeared in front of her within the space of a blink. His eyes were milky white, almost grey. His bottom lip was trembling like a child’s did when they were trying not to cry.

  “Forgive,” he said.

  “You forgive Theron?”

  Barkley shook his head quickly. His neck was tight. “Theron must forgive himself.”

  Zoe nodded. She understood, but that was not an easy achievement. For Theron to forgive himself could take the rest of his life. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “What?” Theron asked.

  She looked at him. “Barkley needs you to forgive yourself for what you did.”

  Theron stared at her. His eyes grew wet. When a tear rolled down his cheek, he sniffled and wiped at it quickly with his palm. So utterly broken. “How can I ever do that? I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Zoe rested a hand on his thigh. “He doesn’t blame you or hate you. Barkley loves you. He presses his face against yours. Cuddles you. He tries to comfort you.”

  It made sense now that Barkley was only present when Theron needed his comfort. At the party and once he grew comfortable going to school, Barkley’s presence wasn’t required.

  More tears fell onto Theron’s cheeks. He let them come now. His eyes were red and swollen. His nose was runny. Zoe grabbed him a tissue from her bedside table. “Here,” she said, holding it out for him. He took it from her fingers.

  “I’ve seen Barkley’s side of the story. Tell me from your side,” she said.

  Theron shook his head quickly, then blew his nose on the tissue. “I can’t, Zoe. I haven’t spoken about it. Ever.”

  Zoe narrowed her eyes and leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against his. “For real? Never?” She could not see how that was at all healthy.

  He shook his head. “Never. My mum didn’t cope. I couldn’t talk about it. She hated me enough as it was…”

  Zoe released a long sigh. Her body compressed on itself. How horrible for him. “How old were you?”

  His next breath in shuddered. “Ten.”

  “Oh, Theron.” Her words were soft and sympathetic.

  “I can’t accept sympathy. Please don’t.”

  She sat up straighter. “Of course I’m sympathetic. A ten-year-old boy kills his brother by accident and then his mother turns against him…” Her words wavered, so she stopped.

  Theron shifted on the bed and lay back, so his head was on her pillow. Zoe lay beside him. And when he started to speak about that day, with imagery offered by Barkley, Zoe was right there with him seeing everything with vivid clarity.

  The scent of straw and cow shit filled the room. The warm sun slanting through the shed’s doors played on Theron’s skin and saturated him with warmth. Barkley’s giggle was soulful, such a sweet melody as he ducked up from behind a bale of hay nearly as big as him. Barkley’s cowboy hat was too big and slid down over one eye, but his crooked-toothed smile shone through like stars in a clear night sky.

  Theron’s heart was bursting with love, warm and full with it, for this boy. He grinned back, a laugh overflowing from his lips, his tummy tickling with happiness, and pulled the gun stock onto his shoulder. Theron took aim, just like his dad showed him how with the wild rabbits and foxes that would eat their veggie garden. His finger curled around the trigger.

  “Bang, bang,” said Barkley, tapping against the trigger on his gun. “Bang, bang.”

  Theron swerved to the side, dodging each bullet just like Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet. He veered to the right as his little brother fired again.

  Theron steadied himself, pressed his eyes to the scope and had his brother in sight. He pulled the trigger “Bang…”

  He was thrust back onto his bottom against the hay behind him. The explosion almost deafened him, vibrated his heart. He stood up, breaths heaving in his chest, and shook his head as though that could dislodge what he knew had happened, yet couldn’t blend into his reality.

  He wiped loose strands of straw from his jeans and looked ahead of him.

  A wet slosh of blood arced across the tin shed’s walls and he spasmed with fear. Theron threw the gun down on the dirt floor as though it was hot lava and stared at it for two quick heartbeats that were so thunderous he felt them in his ears.

  He took one step, another, and another, and crept across the bales to Barkley.

  It was an accident. His brother would be okay. It was an accident.

  His gaze flittered to the bright red fragments intermingled with specks of white bone and the tremors shook him again. His throat closed tight, and his head dizzied until it was like he was spacewalking through a dream.

  All sound vanished except the light rasp of his warm breath and a high-pitched ringing that lingered from the gun blast.

  He reached the bale where his brother had been. Barkley would be okay. He would be on the dirt, pretending he took a hit. He’d be smiling and would burst into laughter once he was spotted because Barkley never could hide his emotions. He never could pull off a prank without his lips twitching from the need to grin.

  There was no blood on the wall. It was all a big trick somehow.

  Theron’s stomach squeezed tight. His chest constricted his stuttering heart. With one eye closed, he peered over the edge of the bale, and all the air in his lungs streamed from his mouth along with his anguished cry.

  Barkley was lying on the floor, blood pooling from the side of his head, and his wide brown eyes staring up at him. He wasn’t smiling. His features were tight—fearful.

  More so than the blood, or the chunks of skull missing from his head, it was the fear in his brother’s eyes that made Theron’s legs give out on him.

  Barkley gurgled just before an unseen frost crept up and stilled hi
s body forevermore.

  Zoe couldn’t say anything for a long moment. They simply lay there in silence, the rasp of deep breaths their only communication, the only sound.

  Barkley had climbed onto the bed and was nestling beside Theron as he softly wept. Zoe’s throat was aching. Emotions crushed her chest.

  It was the most terrible of accidents.

  “I love you, brother,” whispered Barkley into Theron’s ear. “Let me go. I’m tired, and I want to go.” The exhaustion in Barkley’s voice broke her, and Zoe cried.

  Theron rolled over to face her. “Please don’t cry. Please.”

  His brother adjusted and arched over his body.

  “He’s so tired. He loves you dearly, but he’s tired. If you could see him, how he is with you…” She broke off with a sob. Zoe wiped at her eyes and tried to steady her voice, so she could get the words out. “He loves you. But he needs you to love yourself as much as he does.”

  Theron nodded and sniffled. “Sometimes I wish it was me that had died, so I didn’t have to live with myself. But that’s selfish. So selfish.”

  “You’ve seriously got to stop condemning yourself. It’s not helping you, and it’s hurting your brother.”

  Barkley looked at Zoe. “Tell him about when we played cricket, and he let me bowl him out.”

  Zoe relayed the story. A watery smile spread across Theron’s lips. He sniffled and wiped his eyes with the tissue.

  “And when we would take the canoe out on the dam, and it tipped, and he helped me back to the shore even though he could barely keep himself above the surface.”

  Zoe told Theron, and he laughed. “I love that kid.”

  “And I love you. Always, my big brother,” Barkley whispered.

  The sincerity and anguish in Barkley’s childish voice pulled at Zoe’s heart. She blinked quickly when her eyes glossed and composed herself to say, “He loves his big brother too. Always. He’s never stopped.”

  Theron closed his eyes and smiled. “Really? He’s telling you that? Even after what I did, he still loves me?”