Jekyll-Hyde Effect

Chapter 4 - AVERY

New Orleans was supposed to be Ruby's dream. Our dream. And here I was, standing on the edge of my own life, wondering how hers had slipped out of reach without a word. I breathed in the humid, muggy air and tried to push down the anger that pooled like molten lead in my chest. Every inhale tasted like betrayal, every exhale carried the weight of silence.

The forest behind my house offered a kind of sanctuary. The moss-laden oaks swayed lazily, though their shadows seemed sharper than the sun would allow. The damp earth smelled of decay and renewal all at once—thick, wet, familiar. Each step along the muddy path brought a bitter sweetness, a memory of laughter that now felt painfully distant.

"Dad, I'm going for a walk," I called, my voice cracking slightly, like a child trying to hide fear. "Will you be alright?"
Silence. Of course. He never answered anymore. Words were dangerous, heavy, and meaningless now. Grief had calcified around him, leaving only a hollow shell where my father used to be.

I didn't need him. Not here. Not today.

Each step into the woods was a step away from the suffocating emptiness of the house, away from the ghost of Mom's death that still hung in the hallways. Away from Ruby. She had been everything—the anchor to a storm I barely survived—but now she was gone. Six months of silence. Six months where I clung to the faint hope she'd need me, call me, remind me that we existed to each other. But she didn't. She hadn't.

I shoved the thought down, forcing my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, my fingers brushing against the rough fabric like an anchor to reality. The path twisted deeper into the woods, narrower now, lined with gnarled roots and slick stones. The waterfall waited at the end, our waterfall—tiny, roaring, untamed. A place where we had shared secrets, dreams, and plans too wild to speak aloud. A place untouched by parents, rules, or expectations.

The sound of water hit me first—sharp, insistent. Then the scent, wet moss and crisp spray. I followed it instinctively, my heart loosening slightly. There it was, as if it had never changed: the waterfall cascading behind the large boulder, white foam dancing like fire on black rock. I collapsed against the smooth surface, letting the chill press against my back, letting memories wash over me.

I remembered her smile—bright, defiant, knowing. I remembered the way she made me feel like anything was possible. Our plans for New Orleans, for college, for freedom. All gone. She had vanished without a word. And I hated her for it, even as I ached to see her, to hear her laugh, to have her here.

"Damn you, Ruby," I whispered, voice raw and hoarse. The words felt like a confession and a curse rolled into one. Men didn't cry—or so they said—but tears pricked the corner of my eyes, unbidden, unwelcome. I pressed my face into my hands, letting the rush of grief and longing hit me with full force.

And then I saw it—the engraving on the stone, hidden beneath moss: Ruby & Avery Forever. The words were old, half-covered, a promise carved into rock that had never faltered, never wavered. And yet, here we were, apart.

I pressed my palms against the cold stone, fingers tracing the letters, trying to find some meaning in the permanence of it all. How much of myself had I given to her? How many nights had I spent thinking of her, hoping she thought of me, too? Friends, life, the world outside—they had all faded into gray because of her. Because of us.

The forest didn't answer. The waterfall didn't comfort. The wind carried no solace. Only silence, and my own heartbeat, loud in my ears.

It was time to stop waiting. Time to reclaim what life remained. I would go to New Orleans. College would wait, city streets would wait, but I wouldn't. Not anymore. I couldn't keep living in shadows, in memories, in the ache of a girl who might not even care.

I stood, letting the cold spray soak my hoodie, the wind tangling my hair across my face. The reflection in the stream caught my eye: hair shorter, shoulders broader, posture firmer. Months of training, of preparation, of forcing myself into a version of me that could survive without her. I barely recognized the boy staring back, and yet, he was ready.

Ruby was a chapter, a bright, painful, bittersweet memory. But the next chapter—mine—was waiting, and I was stepping into it.

The flight would be tonight. And for the first time in months, I felt a lightness in my chest, a thrill I hadn't known since we had carved those initials into stone. New Orleans awaited. And Avery? He was finally coming alive again.