Chapter 3: I know the truth
It was long past midnight when Michael and Sam returned home. Sam had immediately gone to bed, declaring that he was 'exhausted'. Michael felt exhausted too, drained to the bone, but his mind was working overtime. He tried to comprehend what his sister had told him, tried to ignore the annoyance bubbling up inside of him whenever he realised that he still didn't have the answers he had initially been looking for tonight. Could he handle his sister and her business, when he was dealing with something that felt life-changing himself?
Even so, a part of him felt that it was necessary to help and support Stephanie. They'd always done that, so why would he stop now? The thing is, and this is what bothered him most about the prospect of helping his sister, something about her story didn't make sense. The facts didn't add up.
Michael sighed, staring at his ceiling. He'd laid down on his bed, hoping that sleep would come, but so far no luck. So, he continued going over Stephanies story.
Did he believe she met a guy that wanted to blow up the school?
Yes. Somehow, he did. According to his classmates, college was weird, so maybe it attrackted some weirdos. Or psychos. Maybe this guy had been mentally ill, or something like that, and was just in desperate need of some help. So yes, that part of the story he definitely believed.
But eventhough his sister was smart, eventhough she went to university early, no way did she know what was needed to make a bomb. She had never liked chemistry or physics - especially after she was forced to quit the subject when she was fourteen (it stayed a sore subject, something with an accidental fire) - so how did she know? For her to know this, she had to actively search for it in the library - and even then, Michael figured it was information that was kept off limits. So, once again, how would or how could she know?
Unless, of course, someone told her. Maybe in bits and pieces over time - everyone knew his sister had a wicked memory and would be able to remember small details months later. So, if someone told her bit by bit and she puzzled the pieces together - then she would definitely be able to figure it out.
And, in the story he had now been told, it only made sense that her ex had told her what he was planning to do. But even then... if she knew, figured out what this guy was planning to do, why did she stay? Why didn't she call the police and let them deal with it? Why didn't she leave? Why did she endanger herself?
He sighed, wondering if now was the time to pick up smoking again. He had refused the cigarette Paul had offered him the day before - although that was mainly because he had yet to trust the guys - but now he wondered if inhaling the burning smoke and nicotine would be helpful against the turmoil he was feeling. Back in Phoenix it had helped him relax after his dad blew up on them - not in the literal sense. He'd sneak out, or lean out of his window, and just smoke, until he was calm and no longer shaking. Moving here he had decided to quit cold turkey, wanting to forget the habit that only formed because of his fathers abuse.
Now, however, he had a whole new reason to smoke. He was about to search his coatpocket, in the hope that he somehow ended up in the posession of something - a cigarette, a joint, anything really - to smoke, when he heard a knock on his door. He quickly moved away from his coat, rushing to sit on the bed. Eventhough Lucy smoked as well, she had no idea that he did - and he didn't want to deal with the conversation of 'smoking consequences' now.
"Michael? Are you awake still?"
"Yeah," Mike answered, not bothering to open the door. Lucy would enter on her own anyways. Two seconds later she did. She gave him a concerned smile, before sitting down on the side of the bed. She looked at him for a moment, before speaking up.
"Hi, honey. It's quite something with your sister, huh?"
"Do you know what happened?"
Michael was quiet for a moment. Would he tell her the truth, that he knew Stephanie had told them a lie? Would he protect his sister and tell the same lie? Tell his mother that it was all very vague and he just didn't know? As he looked at Lucy, the hopeful and motherly worried look on her face, he could only do one thing. She had said it once, just after they moved here two months ago. 'No more monsters,' she'd said, hoping with all she had that the future was brighter than their past. With that in mind, and feeling certain that Stephanie had dealt with her own kind of monster, he knew what to say.
She paled as she listened, sighing deeply as he finished. "Okay," she nodded, "I think you might be right."
"You two always shared secrets. When you were little you thought you were so sneaky. Your dad never knew, but I always knew when you stole some candy from the candyjar or when you let a frog loose in the house. Or when you tried to lie for each other," Lucy smiled fondly at the memory. "You and Steph tell each other almost everything. If you want to get the truth, I think you need to speak with her alone."
"And what if she still doesn't?"
"Then we'll figure something out. Maybe it is all over, that would be great. Maybe it isn't. In that case, she trusts you. Maybe she'll tell you. But I wouldn't worry to much, alright?" She stood up, looking at him. "Don't stay up to late. I was planning on seeing her tomorrow during the early visiting hours."
Lucy left, leaving Michael alone once again. He too wanted to get the truth, wanting to know what happened and who hurt his sister. But to lie to Steph, breaking her trust by just using her to gather information? He didn't like it.
The hospital room was dark - or atleast, as dark as a hospitalroom could get. The several diffdrent machihes offered a soft glow. The door to the hallway was half-way open, letting some yellow light stream inside. Sometimes she could hear faint footsteps in the distance, probably from the nurses making their rounds.
Stephanie tried to sleep, trying to forget the horrors in her mind. How had everything gotten so out of hand? How had she allowed herself to get mixed up in all this? She sighed, closing her eyes. Whenever she did she heard them, as always. Judgemental, mean and harsh. She tried to ignore the voices she heard, each of them putting the blame on her. But it wasn't her fault, was it? She hadn't meant any of it. She had been scared too. He had threathend to kill her too. Surely it wasn't all her fault?
She'd almost drifted off when she heard a knock against her window.
Within seconds she'd jumped of the bed, ready to fight, when she noticed a boy - boy? Young man? - looking at her. Golden curls glowed softly in the moonlight and his face appeared to be somehow both angelic and devilish at the same time. He was not who she had expected. He lacked the trenchcoat or the black hair. He lacked the all-knowing smile, or general air of arrogance and danger. No, this boy seemed - strange as it was to say - harmless compared to the one she had left behind. Cute, even, if it weren't for the fact that he showed up like this in the middle of the night.
When her heartbeat slowly settled, she walked towards the window and opened it.
The boy grinned. "I'm a friend of Michaels. You're Stephanie, right?"
She was surprised, if just a little. Michael was definitely more social than her, and was always trying to fit in more than she did, but he'd never been quick with making friends. None of ths Emerson siblings were; Sam was to weird, she was to odd and Michael tended to try to hard. In the end, they all just wanted to find their own people. But as she looked at this nameless boy, his wild handcrafted jacket and his whole vibe, she couldn't imagine Michael being friends with him.
"Right... And what do you want?" She found herself nodding, somehow accepting he was her brothers friend. Why? Something told her he very clearly wasn't, but a louder voice in her head told her to hush. They were friends. She frowned slightly. This situation was a tad bit weird, and she wanted to be guarded. She wouldn't end up in a similar situation as before she came to Santa Carla again.
"To talk. Mike seemed quite worried for his little sister."
"Hm," Stephanie shook her head, eyeing the boy. "And you care, why?"
She was taken a back, if just a little. It was definitely a true answer, albeit a bit blunt.
Stephanie nodded. As much as she still thought this to be weird, he was being honest. A part of her could appreciate it.
"Well, you saw me. Now leave." She was about to close the window when the man placed his hand on the glass, causing Stephanie to look down. She hadn't realised she was on the second floor. But if she was on the second floor, how did this fool get up here? Did he climb?
She shuddered, remembering that he had done the same thing. He'd hardly ever entered her room through the frontdoor, instead opting for the windows.
"I'm serious. Leave." She repeated. What else could he want from her?
"What?!" She snapped. She was done with this, she needed him to leave. This was becoming to similar to before, and she wouldn't end up like that ever again. She began to feel that all familiar feeling of fear and despair what she had felt in the days leading up to the incident. She didn't want this. She got away. She needed to heal, to try and forget. Not this.
"I'm Marko. If you ever need anything, let me know."
"Right now, I need you to fuck off."
She huffed, closing the window. Right. The world worked like that. Random guys climbing up to wimdows on second floors offering their help to a stranger. That made total sense.
She sat down on her bed again, not stopping to think how Marko would have to climb down. Maybe he would fall. She frowned slightly. Maybe she should check. Then again, he climbed up by himself, he can get down by himself, right?
She laid back down on the bed, tears streaming down her face as memories flooded her mind. All she could do while she lied there, was just hoping that tonight she wouldn't be plagued with nightmares.
When she woke up hours later, it was to see her mother and Michael sitting across from her. Lucy gave her a warm smile.
"Hey sweetheart," she held her daughters hand, rubbing it softly with her thumb. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay," Stephanie answered with a soft smile. Sure, she still had some nightmares, but she slept. And that on its own was a good thing.
"Good. I talked to the doctor, and if you're feeling okay, you could come home tonight."
Steph's eyes lit up at that. "That'd be great!"
After that the small family talked for a while, until Lucy left the room to go to the toilets. When Lucy had left the room, Michael stood up and closed the door behind her.
"Mike? What are you doing?" She sounded confused. Then she saw his solemn look and she understood immediately.
"I'm not doing anything. I just need to tell you something. I don't want anyone overhearing."
"I know what you told Sam yesterday was a lie."
"Oh..." Stephanie became quiet. She had been right. Him finding out her lie had happened quicker than she had expected. She chewed on the inside of her lip, looking at Michael with a slightly guilty look.
"Because the truth is so much worse." Tears were burning in her eyes. He couldn't posisbly comprehend, the terror and dread she had been feeling, the neverending sense of death coming for you.
"Come on, Steph, when are we not here for you? We can handle some bad things."
She shook her head slightly. "I don't think so. This is worse than anything you've ever dealt with."
Michael thought of the past couple of weeks, the late nights and non-existent mornings. The neverending hunger inside of him, the sudden burning rage, the occasional flying - whatever his sister had to deal with, it probably wasn't worse than what he was going through, right? So, he looked at his sister, giving her a reassuring smile.
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