I nod while he clasps my shoulder with his big heavy hand and turns to l eave.
I race through the night to Burnaby with other drivers’
headlights bouncing off my vision. It isn’t long before I turn onto Scarlette’s street and park in front of her house. All the lights are off. I look up at her bedroom window and there she is, staring at the dark sky ignited with stars. Getting out of the driver’s seat, I walk around Snow White and lean back against the car with both my hands in my jean pockets. I can still smell the lingering smoke from the fire pit in the air. The thought of exposing the details of that night to her makes me anxious. I peek up again at the only room with the lights still on, and
she’s looking down at where I’m standing. I watch her disappear from the windowsill. The lights in the room shut off. She probably never wants to see me a gain.
I stare at the ground with a blank mind for a moment when I hear footsteps. I look up, and Scarlette is standing there in front of me with her arms crossed. She locks her eyes on mine. They look red and puffy. I can see she’s been crying. I feel terrible to have broken her h eart.
She stays still, not moving or speaking a word, while we both listen to the hollowness of the night. I finally open my mouth to s peak.
“You were wearing a purple shirt and beige pants,” I say with a slight crack in my v oice.
Scarlette immediately pulls air into her lungs and stares deep into my eyes.
“You were just lying there, soaked from the rain, your hair covering most of your face. I couldn’t see your features, Scarlette. I was scared to touch you. I didn’t want to hurt you more. But then I gently lifted you and carried you in my arms to get you the help you needed. I just wanted to get you to the hospital,” I say. “I always wondered who you were, and if you made it thr ough.”
She looks confused and shaken as she stumbled a few steps closer t o me.
“You’re … you’re him. You’re the guy.” She is staring at me with a baffled expression. “Oh my god, you were the voice? I knew there was something about your voice from the moment you whispered to me in class. I thought I was going c razy!”
She comes right up to me and drops her head on my chest. I immediately hold her t ight.
“Elvis, I … I remember the sound of your shaky voice. I could even hear the sound of your heartbeat racing when you carried me.
But you were calming mine down. The exact way you do now. I always wondered who you were as well,” she says, and I can feel the tears flowing freely down her face.
“I died a thousand different deaths that night. One of them was not finding out who you were. I tried to focus on the memory of you when I was lying on the stretcher at the hospital. No one could tell me who it was that brought me there. You had just left.”
Just like I left her earlier ton ight.
“I always wondered if I should have stayed, Scarlette. I was only seventeen years old, and it scared me. I just wanted to get you
to the hospital and go home. I’m sorry I left that night. I’m even more sorry I left tonight. But I’m here now, and I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” I hold her in my arms as close as I can get her.
Scarlette squeezes her arms around me. I never want her to let m e go.
“When you left in a hurry tonight, I was afraid you would un -l ove me,” she c ries.
“ Un -l ove you?”
She nods—her face still hidden in my chest. She knows I love her, even though I’ve never expressed it in words. Scarlette felt my love.
“That will never happen. I fall more and more in love with you every time I’m with you,” I say. “I was drowning for years until I found you again, Scarl ette.”
“I love you too! You’ve mended my heart. It never slowed down after that night until the first time you held my hand.”
Hearing her say those words makes me believe in love.
“You never left my thoughts after that night. Even though I didn’t know your name, you were always on my mind. My heart has always been with you, Scarl ette.”
She finally lifts her eyes to look at me. They’re smudged with mascara, and her lids are as puffy as cotton balls. “My heart has always been with you, Elvis,” she assures me, and we hold on to each other as we’ve wanted to all these y ears.
“I have something to give you,” I whisper and reach into my pocket, pulling out her rose -g old bracelet and swinging it gently in front of her.
It shines in the moonlight. Her eyes suddenly light up, and her mouth drops in s hock.
“I think this belongs to you,” I say.
Scarlette takes the bracelet out of my hand, holding it in front of her with disbelief. “Elvis, I can’t believe you found this. It belonged to my mother. My father gave this bracelet to her when they found out they were having a girl.” She is weeping again.
“When she died, he put it around my wrist as a way for me to know she would always be wit h me.”
Before I can tell her how happy I am, she takes my hand in hers, that’s when she notices the marks on my knuckles. “What happened?” she asks, studying both my h ands.
“It’s hard to explain. I’m fine,” I tell her, hugging her back int o me.
There was one question that kept crossing my mind over the past few years that I wanted to ask her. “Did they ever find who di d it?”
She inhales a shaky breath. “No. Unfortunately, the police never caught them, since I couldn’t give enough informa tion.
“Them?” I ask, feeling puz zled.
There were a few of them who attacked me that night. I remember hearing three different voices. But only one of them forced himself on me,” she says, and I wince at the thought. “All I remember at the end was this big blurry body standing over me, wearing a red shirt,” she says. “It took a long time for me to remember things from that night piece by piece. I suffered from head trauma. Once the healing began, I only wanted to forget. I wished I could erase it all. I wanted to move on. I didn’t want it to haunt me any more.
A red shirt? I run through my memory of that night. His big body!
His red shirt! His ring! That cut on the side of my eyebrow, and then behind her ear. I recall his dark -b rown eyes and his blond hair. I suddenly get a flashback to that night on the dance floor. He vanished at the same time Scarlette left the party. Oh my God, I know who did this! How could I not have put this toge ther?
I stay in control in front of Scarlette, but all sorts of images play in my mind. Inside, I’m raging like a storm. These guys need to pay for their crime. All I can think of now is how to find Ruben Haggs and his cro nies!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I walk past the tropical aquarium without stopping to admire the peace within, holding my black acoustic guitar ahead of me and taking each step up the stairs one at a time. I find myself walking slower than usual, thinking back to the night before when Scarlette described that soulless human being, Ruben Haggs. I need to find a way to get to him; he doesn’t deserve to be free.
In the kitchen, my family is enjoying their breakfast, but I don’t feel very hungry with everything that’s weighing on my mind. As I walk in, everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at me, but I head straight for the kitchen’s French doors and throw them wide open, letting a warm breeze blow through the house. My feet don’t stop, and I walk straight onto our patio and take a seat. I place my guitar in position and my fingers barely touch the strings before the melody “When I need you” by Leo Sayer starts to flow through me, the sound of music travelling across the terrace. My eyes stay shut the entire time, picturing