Finding Lena | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Five

"So, one evening, my dad came back late from work. He looked a mess, and when I tried to ask what was wrong, he dodged the question. An hour or two later, we got a knock at the front door."

I'm extremely curious, but I'm also worried. I don't want this to bring up a part of his past that he doesn't want to resurface.

"My dad answered, and this man came storming in. And he...had a gun. He was yelling at my dad, threatening him. Being nearly thirteen at the time, I didn't understand most of what he was saying, but now I get it. My dad had taken a larger share of the money that had come in to this man's business than he was supposed to. My dad had stolen money from this man."

I tense, not knowing where this is going.

"My dad, being my dad, tried to tell me to go upstairs, but, me being me, I stayed. I didn't want him getting hurt."

He pauses, like there is a rock forming in his throat which is stopping the words from forming. He coughs and continues, "The man was huge, maybe six or seven foot and was extremely broad. He grabbed my dad's arm when he denied the accusations, and started aiming the gun at his head."

He smiles gratefully when I squeeze his hand and goes on, "I tried to stop him, but he pushed me and I hit my head on the wall. My dad tried to help me, but the man just pressed the gun further into his head. When the man was too preoccupied with threatening my dad, I crawled into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest kitchen knife I possibly could."

I gulp nervously.

"I made my way back to the man, and when he wasn't looking, I crawled to him and stabbed him in the foot. He cried out and went into a crazy fit. The man moved to kick me, but I dodged. My dad was struggling to catch his breath on the floor, and so I stood up, and I..."

He stops speaking all of a sudden, reliving the memories.

"Caleb...you can tell me," I assure in a smooth voice.

He gulps and nods. "I stabbed him in the abdomen, Lena. And when he was clutching his stomach, I stabbed him in his throat. I was just a kid, I was so scared."

I place my hand to my mouth in shock, but he doesn't wait to see my reaction, and goes on, "My dad was on the floor spluttering and coughing nearby, but he didn't see what I was doing, and when he did, it was too late. When that man was lying on the floor, pleading with me to spare him, I stabbed him again and again. I was so afraid. I had lost my mom, I wasn't losing my dad, too."

Slowly, he turns to me, waiting for me to say something. It is a lot to take in, and so I don't say anything.

Words can't possibly be used to respond to that.

"Lena, I killed a guy. Granted, he wasn't necessarily a good person, but he was a person all the same. I'm a murderer. And the worst part? I got away with it."

My hands are shaking, but when I feel his hand grip mine harder, they stop and I can breathe.

Caleb had killed somebody. Caleb. The guy that had sat next to me on his first at our school. The boy that had stood up for me, protected me. Who smiled at me when no one else had. Caleb, who had kissed me in the woods, and laughed with me when we got caught in a downpour.

Yet, I don't see him as a murderer. Why?

He stares straight forward again, while the woods only gets darker. "The man died that night. The neighbours had heard the commotion and called the police. When they got to the house, you know what my dad did when they saw the dead body? He said it was him. That he did it. As self-defence, obviously, but that he killed the guy all the same. And I sat there staring at him while the police questioned him, trying to figure out how somebody could be so brave."

He turns back to me, eyeing me gravely. "And I let him take the blame, Lena."

"Did he go to jail?" It's an out-of-place question, but I honestly have no idea what else to say.

Caleb nods. "Since I was hurt by the man, it could be classed as self-defence. But I stabbed him way more than just once. I stabbed him when he couldn't hurt me anymore. And the court decided that it was no longer self-defence, that it was manslaughter. My dad got put in jail for five years, because of something I did."

And there it is.

Caleb's horrific past in a few simple sentences. I can't properly grasp how he's feeling, having told me the story, but I can see by his features that it has triggered something.

Something that he wanted to stay hidden.

"I'm so sorry, Caleb," I say to his back.

"You shouldn't be sorry," he replies, avoiding my gaze and staring straight in front of him, pacing faster.

"That's what you say when someone tells you something sad, right?" I say. He smiles slightly, but it fades. His walking slows.

We're silent for a long time.

Eventually, we stop and I stand in front of him. I look up into his green eyes, brightening the surrounding blackness, letting myself get utterly lost in them, and clutch his hands in mine.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I'm thinking that what your dad did was brave. But what you did was also brave."

"It wasn't brave, it was cowardly. And I have to go every day knowing that I not only killed a guy, but I got my dad put into prison for it."

"You can't blame yourself."

"But I do, Lena, don't you get that?"

I press my lips together into a straight, hard line, folding my arms across my chest and furrowing my brow. "What happened next?"

"My dad went to jail, and I was put into a foster home. I was adopted by Michael when I was fourteen. I lived with him in California, and then we moved here for his job."

We don't speak for a long time, while I helplessly try to take it all in.

"Lena, say something."

I stare at a spot on the floor for a while, not inching my eyes to him. Eventually, I say in a quiet voice, "You know what the weird thing is? You told me this story, you told me that you killed somebody. And..." I shake my head. "I don't see you any differently to the guy that I first met."

Caleb looks up, hopeful, and replies, "You don't?" His expression turns to confused, and he repeats, "You don't?"

"I don't." I walk away, releasing a short laugh. "Weird."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," he points out, gripping my hand again and making me stop in place.

"Actually, I'm not. I'm saying it from the bottom of my heart. You've had such a hard life. And if anything, to know what you've been through, it just makes me love you more."

I freeze, suddenly realising what I just said. The L-word.

Shit.

"I-um, I mean-"

"You said you love me," he says, a smile falling on his lips. I can make out the whiteness of his exposed teeth. Something rustles in the leaves nearby, but it doesn't make my heart jump any more than it already is.

"What? I don't think I did..." I say uneasily, scratching to back of my head. I'm glad it's dark so he can't see me blushing. My cheeks are burning so much I think I might explode.

He grins wider, and lifts me up, spinning me around and laughing. When we make a full circle, he squeezes me to his chest, my feet not touching the damp ground yet.

"You did, you said that my story makes you love me more. Which implies you already loved me," he recalls, eyes bright and wild.

I groan. "Fine. I did say it. And I meant it. You happy now?"

"Happy? I'm more than happy." He laughs loudly again, and then as his laughter softens to a gentle smile, he says, "I love you, Lena with the pretty name."