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the lurker
The sunlight streamed in through the window, lending the room a cheeriness he did not share. He glanced out the large bay window of his study, and at the beautiful garden beyond. Many of the perennials were just beginning to peek their noses out above the ground he recently cultivated, and the annuals he had planted a few weekends earlier, were coming along nicely. But the lovely flowers did nothing to lighten his dark mood.
I can’t trust you anymore, Sydney.
That was what he had said. I can’t trust you. Sydney looked away from the window and slammed his eyes shut against the pain of regret. It hurt even now to recall the tone Jarod had used, the anger and the betrayal still carried their sting. I can’t trust you.
Trust. It was a difficult thing to build between two human beings, much less to repair.
During the past five years of Jarod’s freedom, there had been moments of doubt between them, Sydney knew that; but underneath it all, Jarod had known that he could trust his long time caretaker. One moment of carelessness had ended it. That was all it had taken. Just the one moment.
He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He had tried to reason with Miss Parker, but her own anger regarding his covert communications with Jarod, kept her from listening to anything he had to say. Jarod narrowly escaped the clutches of the sweepers, and it had come at a price. A very steep price. Sydney knew it was this which had angered Jarod beyond reasoning.
The time it had taken for Jarod to get away from Sam and Miss Parker, had cost a nine year old child her life. Sydney’s eyes filled with tears, but he fought to keep them from falling. He knew that ultimately, it was his fault the child had died. He had to bear the blame for the Centre’s interference; he knew without a doubt that when his time came, there would be no salvation for him. Not after what he had done during his lifetime. There would be no light, no tranquillity, no garden beyond; for he had not earned the right to die peacefully.
The tears finally fell from his eyes, landing like rain on the chair. He didn’t notice. He could only see the vision of his mind: Jarod breaking free from Sam, and then looking at him with utter hatred. And it was then that he had uttered the words: I can’t trust you anymore. It had felt like a knife slicing into Sydney’s chest; razor sharp, burning.
A nine year old child was dead because of the Centre. Because of him. It was more blood on Sydney’s hands due to his association with the devil incarnate. He didn’t think he could bear any more.
But bear more he would have to, and he knew it. His pretender would disappear into humanity, dropping no more breadcrumbs for the Centre to find. For him to find. The bottom had fallen out of Sydney’s world, and he was lost to it. His chest felt tight; breathing had become too much labour for the heaviness in his heart.
I can’t trust you anymore. There was nothing left for Sydney. Jarod was gone to him forever, and Miss Parker was not far behind. After discovering Jarod’s letters, she had simply said: I can no longer rely on you, Sydney. She had not spoken to him since, and it was becoming obvious that she intended to lock him out of her life. Sydney had lost one of his charges because a letter had been kept secret, and the other because it had been found.
I can’t trust you anymore. He looked down at the tattoo on his left arm. 54679. Sydney knew what it felt like to be violated in that way. The tears streaming down his face intensified as he thought about his brother Jacob, and about their parents. The truth of Dr. Krieg’s words plagued him. He had turned into another Krieg, experimenting on children who had been stolen from their parents. How could Jarod not condemn him? How could he not condemn himself?
He looked out the window once again, toward the garden beyond, and the white rose bush growing against the stone wall. Jacob had planted it when Sydney first bought the house, as a remembrance of their mother. She had loved beautiful flowers, and particularly white roses. Sydney still missed her. She was the person who had loved him unconditionally; she was the one who had taught him how.
He felt so alone; abandoned by every person he had ever loved. Sydney had hoped that his relationships with Miss Parker and Jarod would be different. But he had been wrong. The pain crying out from within his soul made the tears fall harder.
I can’t trust you anymore, Sydney. I can’t rely on you, Sydney.
And I can’t love the two of you anymore either.
But that was a lie. A sob of sorrow escaped out of him. He tried to stifle his emotions, but he couldn’t; they were like a run away steam engine on a mountain track. The more he tried to hold them down, the faster they surged out of him, breaking through the last barriers of his control.....
The hand gripped his shoulder gently but firmly. Sydney had not heard so much as a creak in the floorboards to indicate that anyone had even entered his house, much less his study. He turned toward the owner of the hand, and was struck by the sadness in the grey eyes staring up at him. She was kneeling next to the arm of his chair, her hand still resting on his shoulder.
He swallowed hard. And they stared at one another, each trying to understand the other’s pain. Parker’s hand slid down his arm gently taking his hand in hers, holding it tightly. Her eyes began to fill with moisture as she looked into the intense sea of chestnut gloom, but not a drop dared to fall. Her lips parted to speak, but Sydney put a gentle finger to them, shaking his head, silencing her. Words were not necessary, it was enough that she had come. Thank god she had come. Thank god he had been wrong.
It was then that she knew the thoughts with which he had been torturing himself; she could see them in his eyes. Parker stood, sat on the arm of the chair and gently pulled him into her, embracing him with tender regard. She looked through the large bay window as she held him, and at the garden beyond. There were white roses in bloom, and their unique beauty called to her. They spoke of the purest form of love, they whispered, unconditionally.
She looked down at the man in her arms, and for the first time, recognized her own white rose. Parker fondly kissed the top of his head, and leaned her cheek on him. The late afternoon sun poured in through the window, lighting the room with the warm glow of its earthy tones. The yellows and reds reflected off the deep grains of the wood furniture, adding a mahogany blush to the walls. The bay window sparkled orange in the blazing sunlight’s radiance. And the garden beyond gently swayed with the first fresh breeze of spring.
fin
