Secrets Kill

Three facts to know about me.

One: I’m Ellie.

Two: Whatever I do, it’s not what you think.

Three: I’m not crazy.

There’s no time left to tell this story.

Help me spread the news... such great news!

- - -

It’s one of those horribly perfect days, announcing itself without worrying about repercussions that I will throw at it later. I think it’s a fucking miserable day. I can’t even catch sight of him, most likely due to the fact that an unending flow of tourists keeps getting spouted onto the street, ignoring the taxi drivers who try to mow them down with their cars.

The breeze kicks up, blowing my suffocating brown hair into my face. I brush it away irritably, scowling at a toddler that trips in front of me. Damn kid, MOVE. So long as he stays there bawling up at his mom and asking to be held, I gripe out loud and wait. Nothing I can do to help. Not that I would ever want to.

“Shut the hell up,” I growl, my knuckles aching from how hard I’m clenching my hands around the strap of my cloth bag. He continues to cry even as his mom whisks him up out of danger, gives him a kiss, and walks away. If only you could save me, too.

I scold myself for even thinking it. Doesn’t help to think about it.

Why isn’t he here? Dan—to put it bluntly: the boy I stalk—always comes past here at 8:05 am, heading to God knows where, looking like a pitiable beaten puppy. Hair a mess of copper-gold curls and alcohol—it’s not hard to tell. His hideous mismatched clothes hanging off his lean frame, pocked with burns and holes.

But it changes when they come. Every person from the day gets switched out… it’s not like they go missing, they just shift. We’re not talking about that though. I have a whole day to—crap, the word enjoy is so detestable—wade through before the real fear starts.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Someone snaps, bringing every single fear to the forefront of my mind.

Spinning around, I widen my eyes in actual surprise, because it’s Dan—noticing me. But I put up what I hope ranks a good score on the clueless face scale than the actual wanton need I feel. “Should I be doing something?” No, don’t come near. I want to gasp and shake him, to push him away quickly before they notice.

But it’s Dan… don’t make me. He’s ratty and washed out like always, looking at me oddly. Odd like how someone would look at a rotisserie chicken after not eating for two days.

“Baby giiirrl, what’re you doing over there… here?” God, that is an attractive slur. And what the hell is he doing?

“Stay the fuck away from me weirdo,” I say with as much force as possible. He can never know.

It’s our first official meeting and now I really hope it’s our last. The urge to spread my guts for all to see—mostly him though—is a very inviting one. I won’t. I can’t. It’s a good thing three can keep a secret if two are dead. Though, did that one person who was left, think about how agonizing it is to keep a secret, no matter how small?

Obviously, I know everything about Dan—from what side of the bed he sleeps on, to how he’s the most forgetful person ever and trips over the step up into his bedroom every night, to how he brushes his teeth.

“Baabesss, you’re so cute when you cussss.” He smiles like a dork and I barely stop myself from oozing all the adorable vibes I’m feeling. Who does he think I am? And goddammit, repelling force, work!

I try to think of something to say. I’ve always wanted to go over and talk to him. He’s so imperfect that it’s something I can’t not love on the spot. He’s also in danger by conversing with me. It’s so unfair. They made me think I wanted this and then banned me from the only thing I care about. I feel shunned by the population….

How darkly ironic. Yeah, I forgot to say that no one is supposed to be able to see me. They did some type of demon incantation, leaving me incoherent for three days. I will forever obsess over those days. What was Dan doing during that time? What girls enjoyed his attentions for those nights?

He grabs my hand, my rough against his soft, and reflex kicks in. I throw all my body weight toward him, twisting out of his light hold even though such extensive actions aren’t needed.

He yelps and I let out a strangled sob. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for what I did.

“STOP IT! LET ME OUT! PLE–EASE!” I scream, snot mixing with tears, running away from my dreams and trying not to blame them.

No one turns to look at me. They keep moving mechanically, smiling, conversing, and milling about. Blocking my escape. Get out of my way! You don’t understand—this is the end. Please let me have peace. Be grateful for me.

- - -

I cry myself out eventually, up in a random apartment window seat that overlooks the road area Dan is currently on. He’s slumped against a tree, legs sprawled out in front of him on the sidewalk, head in his hands. His shoulders are drawn inward and they’re shaking violently… baby, no, please don’t cry.

My head pounds a beat, sounding like someone talking. I shake it hard, the pain increasing but the shivery feeling that accompanied it dispersing. Dan is sad about me. It makes my heart thump painfully. Love is supposed to hurt, get used to it.

Passersby either look at him in disgust or concern but never stop to check on him. I steel my spine and gather myself up, swiping away the tears clotted on my lashes, the salt-water burning a paper cut I didn’t know I had.

They’re coming for me soon. I feel it somewhere in between my heart and stomach. These are my last moments and I am exuberant but excruciatingly sad at the same time.

Suddenly a thought jumps in my head and jams itself there, and I find that I have an unwavering want to follow through on the stupid action. If there’s an after, I’ll be happy there. Oh, yes, I’ll be very happy.

I stumble through the room, tripping over a dog toy and fumbling frantically at the door. My exit. My freedom. I swing it wide, enjoying the damage it does to the wall for one moment before sprinting full tilt down the stairs, leaving it open to let whatever pet was inside free, too.

Yes yes yes yes yes. The chant of the liberated.

I screech over the swarm of people, desperate to catch Dan’s attention. To let him know I wasn’t going to leave him. Dan loves me. He called me baby. Said sweet things. We’ll be so happy together! I let out a squeaky giggle while also trying to continue screaming so that he’ll look—see me running back to him. Like it always should have been.

He knew who he was talking to. He saw me all along. All those women, he was trying to get me jealous, to get me to come and claim him. Of course!

Dan looks up as I approach, alarm in his gaze. I throw myself at him again—but this time I’m staying. Don’t worry, I know. I know. I understand. No need to fear.

He’s holding me and it feels wonderful. His arms are warm and I feel his delicious muscles shifting as he… pushes me away? I start to protest, but he slaps a hand to my mouth.

“Who are you?” He looks very confused.

I smile. He’s playing it like I did earlier. He removes his hand for my answer, giving me the chance to slide closer. And I do. I slam our bodies together and bring his head down in one fluid movement, my mouth covering his. I sigh, and he takes my breath as soon as it’s released, relaxing from his tense position. I’m liquid at the center, running my hands over his shoulders and tasting him on my tongue. One corner of his mouth is rough—a scar I assume. I nip at it, making him draw back. I move backward with him even as he shoves me away, his face stunned.

“No. St-stop.” Stuttering, he runs a hand through his hair, eyes wild.

Blackness snaps across my vision and I fall, and fall, out of his reach. Reality clicking into place—insanity sucking back its arms. Oh, the horror, the dread, the crime!

“Brooke Did It.”

“What?” He’s trying to sound bewildered but I see the realization dawn.

“Brooke Did It,” I whisper again, my butt throbbing from the impact of ass meeting ground in three seconds.

I see them, crawling along the walls of buildings, and gaining speed in my peripheral. I scream, clawing at my face. “Get them off!” I wail.

Ellie, we’re here to help you. They say with one voice, mouths gaping, like thick eternal darkness.

“Hey. Hey! Bitch, what else do you know?” Dan is shaking me, pleading with me. I ignore him because they’re here. What will they do? Why did I never ask these questions? When did I become stupid like the rest?

Ellie, your secret is spent. Your time is up.

And suddenly I’m calm. It spreads over me, seeping into every inch of my skin, filling my mind with blissful control. Dan sees my change in expression and continues insisting something with more urgency, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.

The words barely reach me, “Did you do it? Was it you? Tell me where!”

Dan, shut up.

They laugh. I smile.

I see now. Dan never wanted me. It was them. Helping me understand—it wasn’t manipulation.

Dan is annoying, choking on his tears and words. “I just want an answer!”

Ellie, join us.

They’re good. Yes, they’re good.

“No.” I giggle, warming to the idea. “I’m not crazy. Leave me alone.”

YES.

“No, they don’t deserve to be protected. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

I raise the knife and stab down. It’s all I ever dreamed of. Blood spraying, splattering me, splattering the sky. The clouds bleed. The sun implodes, the crimson pieces fall around me, slicing the ground.

Voices in my head, sing to me.

The figures on the wall retreat and I listen to the song they create for me.

A shrill, high-pitched keening. A song of pain. And of death.

My secret: I am crazy.