XII
It takes Michael minutes to realize he's left her alone in his house. Completely unguarded. She washes quickly, she'll worry about the lingering pain later. Her legs are both stiff from having stood in one position too long and wobbly from the mere memory.
She ignores her aching cervix, half limping to her bedroom. Her phone is fully charged, not looking to see if there are any missed calls she opens her camera and enters his room. He's left it unlocked but she doesn't know if it's custom or an accident.
His room is fairly ordinary; above an antique dresser with four drawers are two line drawings.
One is of three triangles overlapping one another on yellowish paper, the other is of an old man holding a broken helmet, he's sporting a weathered leather eyepatch, a six legged horse rests at his side while his shoulders are accompanied by two ravens.
His beard is long but thin, he overlooks a stormy sea with a black sky descending upon him on the horizon.
Amanda had gone through a brief phase of Norse mythology; this was a depiction of the Odin the All Father, possibly at the beginning of Ragnarok.
The triangles could also be an association to the Norse culture but she couldn't say for sure.
She rummages through his dresser, his closet, nothing seems like it doesn't belong. She hates that the scent of him clings to her even now. The bed is unmade and yet not messy.
The bathroom is clean and again nothing is out of place.
His study is next. She tries to open the drawer in his desk but it's locked and there is no visible key, she can't justify breaking it open for fear of his retaliation.
She pulls books back off of shelves, she doesn't know why. She doubts he has a secret door behind one of them.
All that's left is his glass case of priceless knives. Upon closer inspection though one stands out. It's not as old as some but it doesn't quite belong.
It has a cherry wood handle, the blade is sharp on both sides but appears intentionally blunt at the tip.
At the neck are three faded letters. She glances behind her despite knowing she's alone, it doesn't feel like it though.
With a trembling hand she opens the case, surprised to find there's no lock.
Michael reaches in and picks up the knife. The letters are old but she can just barely make them out-
HWL...
At least that's what they appear to be. Initials perhaps? It could be a makers mark.
A sudden breeze tickles her feet, startling her and she drops the knife, nicking her finger in the process.
It falls to the floor, unbroken. Scurrying like a frightened child, she picks it up putting it back in its rightful place, breathing hard.
She closes the case and inspects her injured finger. She suspects it looks worse than it actually is.
She goes to the bathroom, the blood staining the ivory white sink and she scrubs it away, bandaging her wound she looks in the mirror barely recognizing herself.
But she can't stop now.
There's still the downstairs, but her search proves fruitless. Upon returning to her own room she is ready to concede defeat. Then she remembers how her open closet door sends a chill down her spine.
Turning on the flashlight to her phone she inspects the closet. Hangers, an old jacket.
Michael raises a hand; she's not really going to knock is she...?
She knocks three times, she is met by a hollow sound.
Further away, in another town, Gabriel Lorca paces. Terral watches him, fingers pressed together pensively in front of his stoic face.
"You've made a fatal error." Terral simply states, grunting a response Gabriel continues to move back and forth.
"I told you, you weren't ready for this kind of relationship. Let alone with someone so young and inexperienced." Terral explains. "Your treatment was moving along well. And you threw it all away, for what?"
"Are you going to lecture me or help me?" Gabriel asks.
"Are you in love with her?"
"I don't know how I could be. Realistically I barely know her." Gabriel argues.
Terral leans forward.
"Then why have you fixated yourself on her?"
Running a hand over his face, Gabriel shrugs.
"You're a smart man, Gabe," Terral says but the other man knows his compliment will come with an addendum. "I think you do know why you've become, to put it bluntly, obsessed with the girl."
"I'm not obsessed!" Gabriel says, ceasing his pacing and throwing his hands in the air.
"Aren't you?"
Gabriel knows his defense is weak. This is turning into Eva all over again. He still remembers the memorial service like it was yesterday, the way her mother had looked, the way her brother had begged him that if he knew anything about where Eva was or why she would disappear to tell him.
The truth was, Gabriel simply didn't know where she was.
"You need to let go of your guilt," Terral continues. "It was three years ago and it wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?" Gabriel asks with a sigh. He finally sits, elbows on his knees. "I was supposed to help her." In his memory Eva smiles at him when he gives her lilacs for her birthday, the way she always smiled at him from across rooms or when she needed him to sign something.
She had made him feel young again, but it had come at a cost. He had never meant to lead her on or give her false hope. In the end, he almost regrets not giving in. Maybe things would be different. Or far worse.
"You did everything you could. How could you have known she would tailspin?"
"I should have seen it coming. Everything in her behavior pointed to a collapse of her self esteem and-"
"None of that matters now," Terral cuts in. "What matters now is Miss. Burnham."
Gabriel nods limply, he knows Terral is right. It's why he came here. Because Terral was the only person who wouldn't sugar coat anything. He would give him facts, tough love and cold hard truth. It's what he needed right now.
"When was the last time you cleaned the basement?" Terral asks and Gabriel realizes he's gone longer than ever before.
"Not since Michael arrived." Gabriel admits.
"That's a sign of progress." Terral says but the other man isn't as convinced.
"I've broken from routine- ever since she showed up I haven't been myself."
Terral rises.
"Or maybe you're finally feeling like yourself again. Did that ever occur to you?"
Honestly, it hadn't. But Gabriel doesn't need to verbalize that for Terral to know he hit the nail on the head. For the last three years Gabriel had clung to his new routine. Work, home, work, home... clean the basement, work, home, work etc...
He had personally shunned himself from relationships for his failures. Ash being an exception because of his connection to Eva. In a way, helping Ash had been his atonement.
The list of people he had hurt because of failing Eva was long and seemed to grow day by day. His own guilt had manifested into another person, haunting him. He was sane enough to seek help and for a while his demons had seemed under control. But with the arrival of Michael, everything had changed.
A gift and a curse she had become. A gift in the sense that he felt the potential for perhaps redemption. A curse in the sense that he had given into his base desires he hadn't with Eva. And it only served to make the cross he already carried that much heavier.
He knew he should have told Michael everything from the beginning, the moment he started feeling something for her. But how could he without scaring her away? He explained to tell Terral what kind of emotionally fragile state of Michael was in and that only forced the other man to encourage Gabriel to break it off before it got out of hand.
If only Gabriel had heeded his friend's advice. Perhaps things wouldn't have gotten so far.
Christ, he can still smell her on his clothes. He had lost all control with her... it's then that he remembers the tape recorder, probably still recording the sounds of the lake and nature. He feels absolutely stupid, ridiculous. He hates himself for what he did to her.
"What is the manifestation saying?" Terral asks him after a time. Gabriel scoffs.
"What do you think?"
"I want to hear you say it." Terral says gently.
The truth is Gabriel hates giving it a voice. He encourages his own patients that they need to verbally admit to their guilt, only then would they begin to feel like a change was happening. Only then would they feel it leave them. However, it was easier to give advice rather than take it for yourself.
"It's saying it was nothing she didn't ask for." Gabriel says, he doesn't need to be graphic with Terral, the man knew him better than most.
"And?"
"And... that we should do it again." Gabriel says, his voice lowering in shame.
"Was it your or the other half that wanted Michael?" Terral asks him.
"It was both of us. Terral, I... I can't seem to control myself around her. She's like a fucking magnet." He says, clenching his thumb in his fist. "I can't go back there. Not yet."
"That's the opposite of what you should do," Terral says. "You need to confront what you've done and finally explain to her your side of things. If you abandon her now even for a short period of time that could prove to be detrimental."
Gabriel wishes he were a different man. He wishes he was more a coward. But he knows Terral is right. He can be strong and keep his bloody lustful hands to himself. He has to. For Michael's sake if not for his own.
If only Gabriel knew where Michael was at that very moment. He shouldn't have left. She had found the old staircase that had been covered over with renovation and time. The staircase that lead to the basement. The one that lead to his guilt.
Misunderstandings, miscommunications, overthinking and overactive imaginations are oftentimes poisonous cocktails we are forced to drink and sew the consequences of things left unsaid. A perfect recipe for disaster.