The Pariah

I didn't watch him fall. I didn't need to.

The sound was enough. A wet, definitive *smack* as his body hit the water, followed by a silence so heavy it felt like it had its own gravitational pull.

I turned away from the edge.

The Nave was empty. The guests had scattered like roaches when the lights come on, fleeing the scene of the crime. Or the accident. Or the tragedy. Whatever the morning papers would call it.

But the house wasn't empty. Not entirely.

I walked toward the door. My legs felt like lead, but my mind was clear. Crystal clear.

I reached into my bodice and pulled out the phone. Julian's phone.

It was still unlocked.

I opened the contacts. Scrolled down.

*Oona.*

I pressed call.

It rang once. Twice.

"Senhor Julian?"

Her voice was calm. Expectant.

"No," I said. "It's Elena."

Silence. Long, heavy silence.

"Where is he?" Oona asked finally. Her voice had changed. The deference was gone, replaced by a cold, hard edge.

"He's swimming," I said.

A pause.

"I see."

She didn't sound surprised. She sounded... resigned. Like she had been expecting this call for years.

"Where is the boy?" I asked.

"Safe," she said. "With me."

"Bring him to the gate," I said. "Now."

"Or what?" she asked. "You'll kill me too?"

"I don't need to kill you, Oona. I just need to tell the police about the shrine. About the candle you lit for Beatriz. About what you know."

Silence again.

"He is my employer," she said. "I have a duty."

"Your employer is fish food," I said. "Your duty is over."

I hung up.

I walked out of the house. Into the cool night air.

The driveway was empty. The cars were gone. The police lights were flashing in the distance, getting closer.

I walked down the long, winding drive. My bare feet slapped against the asphalt. My dress, torn and bloody, fluttered in the wind.

I reached the gate.

It was closed.

But there was a car waiting.

A small, battered Fiat. Oona's car.

She was standing next to it. She looked small, old. Her face was a mask of grief.

And in the back seat...

A boy.

Lucas.

He was asleep. His head resting against the window. He looked peaceful. Innocent.

Just like Julian must have looked, once. Before the world broke him. Before he decided to break the world back.

I walked up to Oona.

She looked at me. At the blood on my dress. At the wildness in my eyes.

"You killed him," she whispered.

"He fell," I said.

She shook her head. "He never fell. He always jumped."

She reached into her pocket. She pulled out a set of keys.

She held them out to me.

"Take him," she said. "Take him far away."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," she said, looking at the boy. "He looks like her. Like Sofia."

She touched the glass of the window.

"He shouldn't grow up in a cage."

I took the keys.

"Thank you," I said.

She didn't answer. She turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the hydrangeas.

I got into the car.

I looked at Lucas in the rearview mirror.

He stirred. He opened his eyes.

"Where's Daddy?" he asked sleepily.

I started the engine.

"He's gone, sweetie," I said. "He had to go away."

"Is he coming back?"

I put the car in gear.

"No," I said. "He's not coming back."

I drove through the gate.

Down the road. Toward the port.

Toward the ferry.

Toward the rest of my life.

I didn't look back.

Not once.

The House of Mercy was behind me. The bodies were behind me. The secrets were behind me.

Ahead of me...

Just the road.

And the boy.

And a long, dark night.

But morning was coming.

I could see the first hint of grey on the horizon.

A new day.

A new start.

I reached for my phone. The burner.

I dialed a number I had memorized.

"Hello?"

Sarah's voice. sleepy. Confused.

"It's me," I said.

"Elena? Oh my god. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm coming home."

"Home?" she asked. "To New York?"

"No," I said. "Not New York."

I looked at the road ahead.

"Where then?"

I smiled.

"Somewhere new," I said. "Somewhere safe."

I hung up.

I threw the phone out the window.

It bounced on the asphalt, shattering into pieces.

I drove on.

Into the dawn.

Into the silence.

Into the world.