Mezzanine

| 48 |

Lola's car was only parked a few streets down, so we drove instead of walking through the storm. The rain picked up to a downpour, growing along with the buzzing in my mind. There were so many questions I wanted to ask my brother. So many things I'd been wondering.

He'd been gone for over a year, and now that I was only a few feet away, I felt like I couldn't speak. My thoughts were trapped in my mind and my words were stuck in my throat.

"It's just down this way," Damien broke the silence. He pointed ahead to a dark street off Second Avenue. We'd driven far enough that the bustle and life by the bars and restaurants was now completely gone, leaving nothing but an eerie, desolate road.

My gaze went to Lola. I wanted her to look at me so I could get a read on what she was thinking, but she didn't. She remained focused on the road, the windshield wipers flying back and forth across the windshield.

I couldn't get my mind around what just happened. The way she'd talked to my brother...she'd stood up for me. She'd exposed something she was deeply afraid of and made herself vulnerable...for me.

Conflicting emotions swirled in my mind. I admired what she'd done. Her strength and resolve captivated me, but at the same time, I hated seeing her in pain like that. An ache gnawed at the inside of my chest, like teeth scraping against my heart as I thought about the way she broke down crying.

I'd never felt this way about someone before. It felt like she was the world, and I couldn't remember when and how the feeling started.

"That's the house," Damien's voice interrupted my thoughts. He pointed at an old, two-story house with a small, weathered lawn. "You can just park anywhere on the street here."

Lola nodded and pulled the car over. As soon as she shut it off, Damien got out and jogged up the concrete path that led to the porch. When he reached the front door he paused, digging through his pockets for a key.

The house was tiny for a two-story. Mold and mildew covered the pale yellow shingles, and half of them looked like they were about to fall off at the drop of a hat. One of the front windows was cracked, a piece of soggy cardboard taped over the hole. A car covered in dead leaves and rust sat in the gravel driveway. It looked like it hadn't moved in months.

A gust of icy wind sent a barrage of rain at us as we headed up the path to the door where Damien was still fiddling with the lock. A flash of lightning spiderwebbed through the clouds, followed by the rolling rumble of thunder.

I crossed my arms, trying not to shiver, but now that the adrenaline from the fight had worn off, the cold was setting in. My jaw ached from where Damien hit me and my neck stung, but at least the bleeding in my mouth had subsided.

"Stupid piece of shit lock," Damien muttered under his breath as he finally managed to shove the front door open with his shoulder.

"Sorry the place is a mess." He gestured for us to follow as he led us into the living room.

A couple of beer cans and a half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table, surrounding an ashtray with a few spent joints and cigarettes. The entire place smelled of skunky weed, cigarettes and stale beer.

Carter took a seat on the corner of the couch, between a pink blanket and a throw pillow featuring an ugly embroidered squid wearing a bowtie and a top hat.

Lola took the seat on the other end of the couch. She stared across the room at a canvas leaning against the wall. "Did you paint that?" she asked.

"Yeah," Damien said. "Do you like it?"

"It's..." she started to turn to him, but her gaze shifted back to the painting, like she was transfixed by it.

Thick black vertical lines formed a forest, and at the center, two heavy, red splotches like glowing eyes stared out from between the trunks of charred trees. Chills rushed through me as the sense of déjà vu crept into my mind.