She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,108

of this god-awful town. Maybe we’ll all get lucky and you’ll come down with a nice bout of pneumonia. Too stupid to wear a proper coat or use an umbrella. Why am I not surprised?”

I glanced around the interior.

A man and woman sat in the front seats. Neither turned around. I could see the man in the rearview mirror. He looked to be in his mid-twenties with short-cropped blond hair, brown eyes, and a scar about an inch long above his right cheek. When he saw me looking at him, he smirked and faced front out the windshield at the onslaught of rain rolling over the glass.

“Where is she?”

Oliver sighed. “I warned you when you were a kid, I told you what would happen, and you didn’t listen. Instead, you obsess, you chase, you hang posters all over town, for god’s sake. Even now, I can hear your little heart going all pitter-patter. At what point do you realize you are beneath her and move on?”

“Take me to her.”

“You can’t touch her,” Oliver went on. “You’ve seen what her touch brings. You can’t hold her, not ever, and that is the least of the walls keeping you apart. I wanted you to see that, you needed to see.”

“Take me to her,” I said again.

“She has to do it, you know. The urge builds, this desire, this hunger, this void crying out for fill. She can hold it at bay for a little while, but it nags at her. She said the hunger starts like a little whisper from the corner of the room and eventually grows to a scream so loud she hears nothing else. It’s a sickness, an addiction, both mental and physical.” She turned to me and smiled. “You understand addiction, don’t you? I hear you’ve taken up the drink. That’s such marvelous news. That should speed your journey to the gutter for sure.”

“I only drank—”

“You only drank to cope, to numb the pain, to escape.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’ve heard it all before. I really don’t care why you’re doing it. I can only hope you escalate. Perhaps you’ll move on to pills or heroin or meth or crack—anything that removes you from my life sooner rather than later would be simply wonderful. I hear you can afford it now, too.” The smile left her face. She leaned in closer. “Don’t you think for a second a little coin jingling in your pocket somehow raises you to her stature. Don’t you believe that for a second. Finer clothes can’t change who you really are. All they do is help cover up the stench simmering beneath. Like a tarp over a pile of shit left out in the sun.” She placed her hand on her lap. “All those years ago, when I first met you, you had such a fire in your eyes. That determined ‘nothing can stop me’ bullshit every child possesses. It’s nice to see that fire dimming with life’s challenges, and dim it has over the years. You’ll soon see even tossing the occasional glass of accelerant on the flames can’t rekindle the exuberance of youth. The only real question left is how long before your fire goes out completely. How long before you’re another mindless wretch wandering the streets with nothing left to your name but the cardboard sign in your hand and the stink of booze on your breath?”

My hand had balled into a fist, and I was sure my face was red. “Take. Me. To. Her.” The man in the front seat looked back at me in the mirror.

“No,” Ms. Oliver said. “This ends today.”

“You’re keeping her there, in that house, against her will. You’re forcing her to do those things, to hurt people.”

This brought a smile back to Oliver’s face, a soft chuckle. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded letter. She handed it to me. It smelled of vanilla. The letter smelled of Stella.

At first, I didn’t unfold it. I only stared at the old woman. I had never hated anyone as much as I hated her. This evil, vile woman. When I finally did unfold it, all three of them were watching me. I reached up and turned on the overhead light.

Oliver’s hand shot up and flicked the switch. “Leave the light off. I prefer the dark.”

I unfolded the letter and, Stella’s scent filled the SUV.

My dearest little Pip,

I’m afraid our time together has come to an end. You have been