Bomber, page 4
part #1 of War Brothers MC Series
“Knox, how did it go with you and Kane with the posters?” Helen asks.
The posters she gave us has a recent photo of Misty under “Missing person.” Below the photo is a detailed description of her looks, height and weight, and the car she drives. It also has the police phone number and a mention of the million-dollar reward my mom has offered in relation to anyone providing details that can locate Misty.
“They are posted in the front window of nearly every business in Crown Village, and Kane and I put them up all over the amusement park.” Someone must have seen something.
“Thank you,” Helen responds softly. “Did Kane go home?”
“Ah . . . yeah,” I answer.
Kane was drinking from his flask while we were handing out and putting up posters. I hate seeing him in pain and watching him self-destruct.
I look around. “Zara asked where Iris went. She noticed she hasn’t been around. When will she be back?”
Helen’s mouth opens, but Mom speaks. “She finished up with the Pratts. Said she wants to spend more time with her family.”
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to tell Zara.
“Why didn’t Iris say goodbye? Why would she do that to Zara when’s she’s already hurting?”
Annoyance clings to me. What the hell is wrong with everyone? Misty disappears, Iris leaves without so much as a bye, and I’ve noticed Mom gradually pulling away. I thought she would be here every day with me to support the Pratts, but she randomly turns up to see them, and it’s like her offering a reward is doing “her part.”
Helen looks to Mom for an answer, which is weird. “I’m not too sure. Maybe Iris wanted to give the family some space,” Mom answers.
I clench my fist repeatedly as I breathe deeply, trying to calm down, because sometimes everything gets so overwhelming I can’t breathe. My life used to be easy, then Misty went missing and everything turned to shit. There’s this lingering anger and bitterness toward everyone who has brought pain to Zara.
“Have you given any thought to enlisting yet?” Mom asks, causing my body to freeze.
I glare at her. It’s not the right time to talk about this. I considered it before Misty’s disappearance because I was never interested in the casino or managing any other business. That’s what Kane wants to do, not me. I want to do something I’m proud of, but I’m not leaving Zara and her family now. They need me.
John frowns but Helen’s eyes are wide. “When are you going to do that?” Helen asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere.” Zara needs me . . . my brother needs me.
“Knox has always wanted to join,” Mom adds.
My mouth tightens and my eyes dart to the stairs, checking that Zara isn’t around. I’ve never spoken to Zara about my thoughts of joining the military because it means I would be away from her for long periods over many years. Now I definitely can’t go, and I don’t want Helen and John thinking I’ll desert them and Zara during this. I’m not like everybody else.
“I know you feel like you have to stay for Zara, but you can follow your career in the military if that’s what you want. Misty will be back soon, you’ll see,” Helen says.
I hope she’s right, but I would never have thought Misty would leave.
Everyone stops talking as the doctor enters the room. He looks at us and shakes his head. He’s frowning. “It’s my professional opinion that Zara should seek ongoing treatment. She’s experiencing a nervous breakdown, considering all you described.” He looks at Zara’s parents, then me. “The stress of her sister’s disappearance has caused anxiety and depression, which has made her isolate herself here at her home.
“She’s not eating or sleeping well or looking after herself. I took a blood test to see, but she may need IV fluid if she isn’t drinking any water. I have prescribed her anxiety and antidepressant tablets for the morning and an antipsychotic to help her calm down at night. However, I think it’s best Zara goes to a facility where she can get twenty-four-hour care.”
The blood drains from my face. John is nodding, whereas Helen has tears in her eyes again.
“Is the stress why Zara has also been losing so much hair?” Helen asks.
I flinch. I noticed that too.
“Yes,” the doctor replies.
Mom puts her hand on Helen’s arm. “That medical treatment center I was telling you about has the best resources money can buy, and I want that for Zara. I told you I’d pay for it, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“It’s a bit soon to be discussing that, don’t you think?” Irritation infuses my tone. “I’m here. I can make sure she takes her tablets.”
I look between Helen and John. “Let me help her, please,” I beg. No offense to them, but they are struggling as well. I can look after Zara. “What if Misty comes back? Zara won’t leave, not now.”
I don’t mention that she hates when I have to leave her too, even for short periods, but I believe I can be there for her, be what she needs.
Helen bobs her head and peers at me. “It does seem too early, but it’s something we can look at if she gets worse.”
“These are the prescriptions.” The doctor leans over with a piece of paper in his hand. Helen takes it from him. “There are instructions on how much she is to take of each tablet and for how long. You’ll see that there is a gradual increase with each medication. If Zara gets worse or has any severe side effects, please call me.”
“Thanks,” Mom says to the Pratts’ family doctor. “I’ll pay for any and all of Zara’s expenses.”
“We can’t allow you to do that,” John replies sharply.
Mom lifts her chin. “You can, and you will. Let me pay Zara’s medical bills. You just focus on your family.”
There’s no fight in Zara’s parents. They look as exhausted as I feel.
After the doctor leaves, Helen turns to my mom and asks, “Has there been any update from the private investigator?”
“None. I have spoken to the local police that are managing the case and who we have in our pockets. One said that because she is over eighteen, Misty legally doesn’t have to return home. So unless there’s proof that there was an involuntary disappearance, there’s not a lot else they can do.”
I slam my fist on the table. “That’s bullshit!”
Helen jumps, so I soften my tone. “Sorry.”
I didn’t mean to snap, but we’ve done more investigation than the police and that so-called investigator have done. It’s us who have called businesses and people, put up posters, offered rewards. What have they done? Interviewed people . . . and what? Checked Misty’s phone records and laptop to tell us what we already know—that no signs led up to her disappearance?
I stare at Mom. “You tell that private investigator to do better. It’s not good enough. I can only imagine how much you’re paying him. Six weeks later and there’s still no sign of her?”
When I see movement in the corner of my eye, I glance to my left to see Zara. All conversation stops. She pauses at the bottom of the stairs. She’s lost a lot of weight in a short time. It’s scary.
“Come sit, precious,” I say as I wave her over.
I want to include her in conversations around Misty’s disappearance. It’s important she talks about it.
She hesitantly wanders over. I shuffle the chair back so she can sit on my lap. I wrap my arms around her frail body and pull her to my chest.
“We were just talking about putting more pressure on the private investigator because there needs to be something that leads us to Misty.”
“You should consider the fact that she ran away,” says Mom, making Zara stiffen in my arms. “She was a free-spirited young woman who liked to break the rules.”
“I don’t think so, Audrey,” Helen replies. “She didn’t take any money out of her bank account.”
“But your camera shows Misty leaving in her car. She took her wallet with her. She could have been saving up, or maybe she met someone else.” Mom shrugs casually, like she didn’t just insult Misty.
Zara abruptly stands. “No! She loved Kane. She would never cheat on him.”
I sigh and watch Zara storm away and back up the stairs. “I’ll go to her,” I tell Helen, who has a deep frown on her face.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I rush up the stairs and to Zara’s room to see her lying on her stomach with her arms under the pillow on which her head rests.
“Don’t listen to my mom,” I say as I sit next to her. “She doesn’t know Misty like you do.”
“There’s so many unanswered questions that I’m starting to think I didn’t know her at all . . .”
Her voice is without emotion. Her mood changes every day from crying to anger to numbness.
I tuck her hair behind her ear. “You don’t believe Misty would have run away, do you?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. Are you staying tonight?”
“Ah, yeah. Sure.”
I can’t shake this overwhelming guilt. When I’m with Zara, I feel bad for leaving my brother alone. And when I’m with him, I worry about leaving Zara. I can’t be in two places at once.
I think Zara wants me with her because she’s worried that I’ll abandon her like Misty did, which is why I don’t want to go to the military. I don’t want her to leave either. We can get through this . . . together.
Five
Mental Torture
Zara
Age: Nineteen
One year later
* * *
A buzz echoes throughout the small room.
“Ow!” I whine as the tattoo gun marks the top of my thigh.
Even though I’ve had some whiskey, it still burns.
“What are you getting again?” Kane slurs before he takes another gulp from his flask.
Today is the first anniversary of Misty’s disappearance, so Kane and I have gotten drunk. I’m getting a tattoo to mark the occasion. It’s the word Misty written in calligraphy, with two small doves raising their wings to fly. Knox watches with his arms crossed over his chest, the same, usual worried look in his eyes.
Once we’re home, Knox helps me up the stairs and insists that I wrap up my tattoo with a bandage so it doesn’t get wet before I have a shower. Afterwards, I collapse on the bed and shut my eyes.
When I wake up, I need to go to the bathroom. Knox is asleep next to me, with one arm stretched out touching me. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. In contrast to when he’s awake and worry lines mark his forehead—all because of me. Sometimes, I feel like my pain is bleeding all over him.
Knox has been staying on and off at my house ever since Misty disappeared. At nineteen, he should be out partying and enjoying life. There’s a tightness in my chest about him spending all his time with me. Maybe he’d be better off without me? Maybe death would be preferable to enduring all this pain? I struggle to stop those dark thoughts from polluting my mind.
During the year since Misty disappeared, I’ve hated the pitying looks from everyone. It makes it so much worse. People ask how I’m doing, but I sense they’re being polite—they don’t want to know. I put up a facade, telling them I’m fine while my heart is screaming in pain.
I’m struggling to live without Misty. How do I go from one day having this perfect life to drowning in my personal hell the next? No matter how hard I try, I can’t claw my way out. Misty’s disappearance has created a wound so deep that the pain won’t go away.
There are still times when something happens and I go to call her to tell her, and it’s those few seconds of peace I revel in—when I think she’s with us, when it hasn’t registered yet that she’s gone. Every time I travel outside of the house, I search for her in the crowds.
My heart aches from missing her, and my mind tortures me with the memories. Her ghost haunts this house. It’s not much of a life I’m living, but knowing that Knox—this beautiful human next to me—has walked alongside me on this dark path makes the struggle to hold on worthwhile.
I slowly get up, trying not to wake him. When his hand falls away from my skin, his eyebrows furrow and he reaches out for me. But then he drifts back to sleep, and I tiptoe to my bathroom and close the door.
I don’t look at myself in the mirror because I know what will stare back at me in the reflection. After using the toilet and washing my hands, I open the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet and move my makeup bag until I see the shiny silver object. Long before I got the tattoo, I had the thought of cutting myself. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I lift the bottom of my nightgown before taking the cling film off my tattoo. I grab a clean washcloth and wet it under the running tap to pat the smeared ink.
Picking up the icy blade, I take a deep breath. A hiss escapes my mouth as the razor pierces my skin. My eyes water as I drag it across. There is now one cut under my tattoo, marking one year.
Weirdly, I feel temporary relief afterward. The tattoo and cut also remind me that the past was real, that she was real.
I’m so deep in thought that I don’t hear the door open. When I see Knox’s anguish as he sees what I’ve done, my high is depleted. He walks away and my body is cold. I let out a heavy breath.
He comes back with supplies from the first aid kit. His touch is delicate as he washes and cleans the wound. I watch him in awe as he treats me with care while he covers it with a dressing.
He kisses the bandage and everything lights up. As he stands, I take him in. His gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, accentuating the V of his six-pack abs. I lick my lips as my gaze continues to travel up his fine body to those whiskey-colored eyes.
He grabs my chin in his hand, his eyes boring into mine. “You bleed, I bleed.”
The intensity and devotion in his voice makes me shudder. Overwhelmed with emotion, I can’t speak, so I nod. He takes my hand and pulls me back to the bed. We lie back down on the crumpled white bedsheets, his arm around me. I rest my head on his chest and I’m immersed by his warmth. Everything fades as I listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Six
Sacrifice
Knox
Age: Nineteen
* * *
It’s been the longest year of my life. No one has found Misty. Not even the police or the private detectives have any leads. My mom offered a million-dollar reward for any information that leads to finding her. There have been calls, but all have led to dead ends.
This nightmare taunts and follows me everywhere I go. I’m stretched so thin, trying my best to be there for Zara and Kane. There’s pain wherever I go, and I can’t fix anything or help anyone because I can’t bring Misty back if I don’t know where she’s gone.
For so long, I’ve been through every conversation and every moment leading to her disappearance that would give me any inkling of where she might’ve gone. Kane has turned into an alcoholic and workaholic, and Zara is mostly in a zombie-like state. She might be with me, but her mind is elsewhere.
I flinch at a loud crash upstairs. Zara! I jump off the sofa and run up the stairs and into her room. The pain and anger on Zara’s face physically hurts my chest. An overturned chair lies by the wall, under damaged plaster and the smashed TV.
Her shoulders rise and fall. I slowly step toward her and reach out, but she lashes out and pushes at my chest. I let her. She pushes and slaps repeatedly, but at least she’s feeling something and she’s showing emotion.
I see Helen by the door, watching her daughter.
“Zara, stop! No more!” Helen wails as tears stream down her face.
“Don’t worry, Helen. I’ll look after her.”
She gives me the smallest nod. Helen has lost a lot of weight. She looks so fragile now. John needs to stop working so much and come home and be here for his family. I think, like my brother, avoidance and keeping busy is their way of dealing with their pain . . . or not dealing with it.
When Helen leaves, Zara screams, “Why isn’t Misty home yet?”
A sob comes from outside. Helen must have heard her. I step toward Zara, put my arms around her stiff body, and pull her to my chest. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “It’s okay. Let it out.”
Instead, her body goes limp. I gently pick her up, as if she were glass that could shatter, and place her on the bed.
She peers up at me with tormented eyes. “Please hold me,” she croaks.
As I lie down next to her, she rolls over onto her side. I pull her into me. Tears roll down her cheeks. A catatonic stare has replaced the flash of anger.
Misty’s disappearance has created a tsunami effect that’s severely affected my family. My mom has moved away. I thought she, more than anyone, would’ve been here for Helen, but she went to live at one of our holiday houses in the mountains. She said she’s giving everyone room and time to grieve. I think she’s a coward, so Kane and I have little to do with her anymore except the occasional phone call. We live with our dad full time now.
Once Zara’s breathing levels out, I slowly move my arm off her and shuffle to the edge of the bed and stand. I look back at her once more before I drag my feet to her bedroom door and, as quietly as I can, pull it closed behind me.
Dread creeps up from the pit of my stomach as I walk down the stairs. I’ve separately spoken with each of Zara’s parents about Zara’s depression. My thoughts go back to my discussion with John.
His eyes were dark underneath, his hair was messy compared to its normal slicked-back look, and his tie hung haphazardly off to one side.
“I’m losing my family, and I don’t know what else to do.” His body slumped further into the seat at the dining table.
“I want to comfort Helen, I do, but I don’t know how when I’m struggling so much myself.”
