The Imperial Warrior

Chapter 2- With You Til the End

Kyle refused to believe Anya. He just couldn't. That perhaps living in denial was better than accepting the truth, but Anya was hell-bent on forming her own conclusions. "They are dead, aren't they? Why else would so many police be in my house."

"Anya, we don't know anything. Please don't jump to conclusions."

Even though he was saying those words, he could hear his own lack of conviction. He looked at his best friend and thought of the implications of Anya's parents' deaths. He couldn't let that happen to her; he couldn't let the same darkness envelop her that had been with him since his own mother's death.

Anya's eyes were shining and Kyle realized that she was trying to hold back tears. Kyle wanted to tell her that it was okay to cry, that she didn't have to pretend to be brave in front of him but he knew that if he said that it would make the situation real.

Anya had been his tether, when his mother had died it was Anya who had made him feel normal. Everyone else had looked at him with such pity that he had begun to hate the world and his father had been dealing with grief in his own way. Anya had been with him since the moment he had told her about her death and Kyle made a silent promise that if something had actually happened, he would be there for her, through it all. That he owed at least that much to her.

They were sitting on the floor, Anya with her head between her knees and Kyle on her left, both waiting for his father, not speaking a word.

After what seemed like an eternity to Kyle, Ryan Jones came through the door and saw the two children. Kyle could have sworn that there were new lines on his face that had not been there a week ago. Anya immediately leaped to her feet and looked at Ryan. His father looked at the two of them and just shook his head.

This time Kyle was the first one to speak, "What happened?" 

His father took a deep breath, told Anya to sit down on the couch, and started to speak, "Anya, your parents were in a car accident. They were coming back from the office when a truck collided with them and sent the car down the Whitestone Bridge,"

Ryan wondered if he should stop and let all of that sink in, but he realized that he had to get it all out at once or he wouldn't be able to go through it.

"The police are suggesting a hit and run due to their recent articles in the paper."

Anya looked at his father with wide eyes but her voice was steady when she asked, "Where are they now? I need to see them."

"Anya, they were taken to the Memorial Hospital—"

"'Were'? What do you mean? Where are they now?"

Ryan couldn't bring himself to answer the little girl's questions. She was looking at him with such hope and determination that he felt he was going douse all that light from her eyes. He gripped the handle of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white and willed himself to look at her and tell her they were dead.

"They were declared DOA."

With those last words, Ryan closed his eyes. He couldn't look at his best friends' daughter any longer.

"'Dead on Arrival'?"

Kyle looked at his father, searching for any signs of hope. That perhaps there was more to the story but Ryan had hung his head so low that Kyle felt his heart shatter in a million different ways.

He turned towards Anya's direction and saw no one there. He hadn't even realized when she had left the room.

Slowly, he got up and made his way to the roof. That was the place where Anya and he had shared most of their moments; happy or sad. And so, she would be there now. Because up there, with the infinite universe above them, all their problems became insignificant. It made him realize that in the vast magnitude of everything, they were nothing but tiny specks in the galaxy and their sorrows the dust in it.

He gingerly climbed the steps of the ladder, each step getting heavier than the last. When he finally saw Anya, he had absolutely no idea what to say. She was staring numbly into empty space with streaks of tears running down her cheeks.

Kyle went and sat beside her. Close, but shoulders not quite touching. Eventually, the sun set, and the sky had a beautiful orange hue kissed with tinges of blue; marking the end of yet another day. It seemed unfair to Kyle that the sky chose to look the prettiest on perhaps the saddest days. He wondered if this was the universe's way to pay tribute to the fallen.

He chose that moment to speak to her, "Look Anya, I know that life sucks monumentally right now, but I'm telling you that it'll be ok—"

She cut him off, looked at him right in the eyes, and snapped, "Don't tell me that it will be okay, Kyle. Because you know better than anybody that it won't."

"Anya—"

"No. Don't do that. Don't 'Anya' me and tell me that things will be better one day. Don't downplay death for me, Kyle."

She wasn't crying anymore but yelling instead.

"My parents are dead. I have no other family, Kyle. I'm a freaking seventeen-year-old orphan."

She cracked up at the last word and fully broke down. It looked like she had finally let go. Let go of all the restraint she had spent years building. He had known her all their lives and never once seen her cry, and now, here she was, so vulnerable in front of him and suddenly the cat had his tongue.

He kept on thinking about his own mother's death. How no words were good enough that day. Because when someone you love dies, just like that- no last words, no final goodbye- it hurts. You feel that life has cheated you and nothing ever makes it better. But he decided that he would try. He had to try.

"Just close your eyes." Kyle said.

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

She closed her eyes.

"Now imagine. Imagine your parents looking at you, smiling. Like they have just come home after a long work day and want nothing but to sit with you and talk about absolutely nothing."

He closed his own eyes.

"Picture them with their arms open, waiting for you. See yourself running towards them, like we used to when we were kids, for the warmth of their embrace. Imagine them hugging you and never letting go." He waited, to give her time, to feel the air around them, to let her feel the ground underneath and everything that was going on with her. 

"Now take a deep breath and open your eyes."

She looked up at him questioningly, her face stained with dried up tears.

"Whenever you feel lonely or lost or even just want to see them again, picture them like this. Watching over you like your guardian angels, protecting you and guiding you every step of the way. Even though you won't see them, you just have to trust that they are there. Because that's how they live on. In your memories."

"Does it ever get better Kyle?" She asked.

"Yes," He said but Kyle couldn't bring himself to tell her that there would be dark days ahead. When the pain would become so acute that it would all just come rushing at her, like a stab in the middle of her heart. There would be time for that later. And he would be right there, holding on to her.

"It's like a hole in my heart, Kyle. And I don't think, it will ever heal again."

"I'm not saying that the void will go away. I'm telling you that you will learn to deal with the pain until maybe, just maybe, you can breathe again,"

He could hear her breathing harshly, concentrating on each breath. "You will get through this okay. We will get through this. Stronger together, remember."

"Stronger Together." She repeated.

***

Ryan was sitting with his head in his hands. He felt as if the weight of the whole world had just fallen upon his shoulders. He didn't want to look at his best friends' daughter and give her the same news he had given to his own son six years ago. He thought he had become used to being the bearer of bad news. But how could he tell that little girl that her only family was dead and that there was nothing else to be done.

He remembered his talk with the Sheriff. The words still echoed in his mind, "I'm sorry, Ryan. They are dead."

Dazed he had almost lost his control over the world. But if he had let his emotions lose, god knows the destruction that would have caused. And after keeping his rein in for so long... No, couldn't afford that.

But he almost had. It was Kyle's face that had stopped him, like all the other times since his wife's death. Then, she was his anchor and now his son was.

He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to take care of Anya now. He owed the Jacobs. For everything they had done for Ryan and for so much more.

It was unfair. His entire life was so unfair. And he hated himself for being so weak and helpless all the time. Most of the days, the best he could do was sit back and watch as everyone he loved died. And he knew that if he would interfere, it would just become so much worse.

Perhaps, the fates had planned it to be this way. Or perhaps, life simply sucked. Whatever it was, the only thing he could do now was to be there for his son and Anya. He swore that he wouldn't fall in the same rut he had been in after Julianna had died.

So, he went to the kitchen, took out the ingredients for his famous Jones special: Homemade Lasagna. He remembered how he had learned to cook after Julianna. When he had spent countless evenings watching online tutorials just to make Kyle feel home again. And when he had ended up with overcooked pasta and a b****y finger, Kyle had, for the first time in what had felt like forever, come up to him and smiled. They had cooked together that day.

Days after that, they usually took turns cooking and doing house chores and somehow it worked. They became a team, albeit a very awkward one, but a team nonetheless.

Ryan was lost in such old tales when he saw Kyle coming down the staircase, with his head bent, eyes lost in thought, black hair a stark contrast against his skin.

Ryan liked to look at his son when he wasn't aware. It made him see the sharp nose, just like his mother's, the chiseled jaw, just like his father's. And he really prayed that there was more of Julianna in him, at least more than him. 

A minute later Anya followed. She was standing straight, looking right at him, "Mr. Jones, would it be alright for me to stay here tonight?" she asked hesitantly.

Ryan knew that she was being formal to take a hold of herself. And he went along with her act, "Of course, Anya."

Kyle added, "You know, Anya, the guest bedroom is practically yours."

He remembered the countless nights when they had stayed up watching black and white movies in the living room. The nights after his mother's death, Anya refused to leave him alone even when he did not want her there. When he had asked her to leave, she wasn't angry and plainly said, "I'm like slime, Kyle. Really bad, sticky slime. And once you've got me. You can't get rid of me." 

They all sat at the dining table. Ryan on one side, Kyle and Anya on the other, in their usual places. The head empty, as it had been for a long time. They did not speak much. The silence was sufficient to answer all their thoughts. This silence was kind. It allowed them to be.

Anya was trying her best to not think about the empty house next door. She told herself that no matter what, she wasn't going to break. That if she pretended long enough, perhaps, the pretense would become reality.

She looked around the room. Her eyes saw the kitchen, the clean dishes, the dirty dishes, the cracked dishes. Her eyes stopped at her best friend. Kyle was playing with his food, not really eating, pretending for their sake.

After his mother had died, he hardly ate. He had completely lost his appetite.

"I don't care." He had said.

"But he does." She had said, her eyes pointing towards his father.

He hadn't moved on, or gotten closure or whatever the hell one gets after death. He acted as if he had but she knew that he hadn't.

He saw her watching him. He looked up and smiled at her. It wasn't a happy smile or even a sad one, it was a smile simply for the sake of smiling. But it made her glad nonetheless. She knew that she could lean on him now, for support and that he wouldn't mind. That he would want her to.

After dinner, Ryan excused himself, he knew that they would want to be left alone. Kyle was washing dishes. Anya was completing her homework. It looked like an ordinary day in an ordinary life. Except that it wasn't. Ryan recognized it for what it was- a façade.

He didn't know if it was for the better or for worse, but that it simply was. And that he couldn't change anything even if he wanted to.

After their chores were done, Anya lay in bed, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark-stars of the ceiling. She thought about all the days and all the nights lying ahead of her.

Every night, Anya waited for her father to come to her room, even when she was at the Jones'. She pretended to be asleep, but she never was. Not until her father came and switched on the night light of her room; for the man couldn't let his little girl sleep in the same darkness his best friend, Ryan, battled every day.

Anya closed her eyes and waited for her father to come but he never came. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and reached her lips, they tasted of grief and heartbreak. They tasted of death.

It all hit her then, that no matter what she pretends, she would never get her old life back again. She absorbed her reality. She understood that she could no longer be the aspiring writer, following in the footsteps of her parents. But she had to be greater than all her tragedy. And she would be. 

***

The next morning, Ryan woke the kids up and drove them to the hospital and then to the funeral. He looked at them, they were certainly calm for their age, but then again, they had done this before.

Anya looked exhausted. She was rubbing her palms against her thighs, a habit she had picked up from her mother. Other than that, you couldn't see the anxiety on her. Unlike Kyle, one look into his eyes, and one could find his entire heart.

Kyle found the whole ordeal surprisingly easy, at least more than he'd expected. It wasn't like what the movies or the books showed, there was no howling with pain, no screaming, just dried-up tears. When they came back, they found Alex and Will waiting on the steps, with pizza boxes and soda cans kept beside them. He wondered if the news had already spread, it was a small town after all, but then he saw the acknowledgment in his father's eyes and understood.

They went in, trying to retain their sense of normalcy. Kyle left with something much worse.

Kyle looked around the room and then he suddenly remembered that he still hadn't taken Anya to that place, the place where it all had started. Now, he wondered if he would ever take her there. At least, not anytime soon.

"Alex, what's going on?"

"I got Pizza! Well, Will did. I helped." He was being overly enthusiastic; Kyle loved his friends for these little things.

Will gave them a small smile, "I forgot garlic bread though."

"C'mon in guys." Kyle opened the door and they headed in. Then he looked behind at his father and realized he was already gone. Some part of him fueled up with anger, this is what he always did. The moment something bad happened, he ran away. Then he would come after everything was over with his apologies. This time Kyle wasn't going to let this go. But on the other hand, they were his best friends, he needed time to grieve too. Kyle hated this habit of his, giving both sides of the argument to himself and then ending up with nothing.

"Kyle, what are you doing mate?" He realized that his hand was still on the doorknob. He turned it, "There you go."

Once they were inside, Kyle looked at Anya, to see if she was up for this. She nodded her head in reply. It was always like that with them. They didn't have to talk to each other, one look was enough. He finally sat down then, a pizza slice in one hand and dice in another. They were playing Monopoly.

Board games were an old tradition of the group. And it wasn't one born out of happiness. They always played when one of them had a really bad day, trying to ignore their problems with trivial victories. And they could get really competitive. Today was subdued though, heaviness hung in the atmosphere, weighing everyone down. Anya had become numb and Kyle's head was throbbing so bad that he had to go down to take an aspirin.

When he came up, he saw that they had abandoned the game altogether, "Accepted defeat already! I mean, I know I'm amazing and the rest of you had to eventually bow down to my amazingness—" He stopped when he realized that Anya wasn't responding like she usually did, retort for a retort, neither were the boys.

"Is everything alright?"

He looked at them, took a good look. He saw that Will was arranging the game back into its box and Alex was sitting beside Anya, one hand in hers, rubbing her back.

"Kyle—" Anya looked at him with guilt, she immediately pushed Alex's hand away and stood up. Her eyes were swollen, her face red, he realized that she had been crying and was pretending all this while, for his sake. He was so furious with himself for making her do that again. Her parents were dead and she was still the one helping him. He didn't even realize when Alex had moved away and Anya had come towards him. Her hand was on his shoulder, willing him to reality. That's when it happened.

It was like something in his brain just burst and that was it. The ache became so intense that his entire body was going into shock. He pushed Anya's hand away and ran out of the house.

He ran with no destination, past the street of their house, past the Walmart, past all the places he had visited with her. All he felt was rage, a rage so intense and consuming that he couldn't really process things. He couldn't even see the road; all he knew was that he needed to get away. So, he ran.

Ran until his legs would give in. His mind was a hurricane, a hurricane of memories and voices burning so bright that his eyes hurt. His mom's funeral, Anya's parents' dead bodies, her eyes full of wonder and life, her smile a shell of all the pain and hurt that she had endured, her hand in Alex's, just her face, over and over again until exhausted both his mind and body gave up. He slumped down to the nearest wall he could find. And closed his eyes to rest, just for a little bit. Until his heart stopped racing and he could breathe again. Breathe. That's when it clicked. He had run all this way and he wasn't really breathless. Not the way asthmatics are. His heart was beating really fast, he could feel it banging in his chest but not in a way that he was used to. This was a thrill, of adventure, of power. He felt powerful and that thought terrified him.

He looked around; he saw a very large gate in front of him. He wasn't wearing his glasses either and still could see clearly. Something was very wrong with him. He was near his school; he recognized the surroundings. His school was a good twenty miles away from his house. He had run all that way, with his nothing of a physique. He told himself it was a rush of adrenaline, nothing more. But not even adrenaline could explain all this and he knew that. It's just that there was no other explanation for everything that was happening with him.

***

"Hey, Anya, are you okay? Let me get something for that."

"Something for what?" Anya didn't really understand what had happened, one moment she was with Alex, the next Kyle had looked at her with so much hurt that she couldn't help but feel guilty. She knew that she should have told Kyle about Alex but she kept on avoiding it. She had made Alex stay away from even her during the funeral to keep up their act, no matter how much it had hurt Alex when she had asked him to. And now look what had happened.

"Anya! Your hand, it's red."

"Huh." She looked down at her arm; it was red, swollen in fact. She couldn't recall when that happened. It didn't even hurt.

"I'm going to kill him." Alex suddenly came up to her. "He can't do that. What does he think of himself? Oh boy, I'm so going to kill him."

"Alex, calm down." Will was beside them too.

"Why? What happened?"

"Anya, your hand, Kyle did that to you. Why are you not saying anything?"

Alex was going completely livid now. He couldn't take it any longer. That was his girl, no one could do that to her. Will could see the wheels spinning in his head, so before he did anything he would regret later, he decided to calm him down.

"Alex, come with me right now. Anya, put some ointment on that, then there is some ice in the freezer, apply that."

Anya saw Will drag Alex out of the room, and she still couldn't understand what they were talking about. She looked at her arm, an impression of five fingers was there, turning almost blue. Had Kyle done that? She went and sat at the table and got herself a glass of water and tried to trace the events of the day.

She could hear the boys talking too. Alex was furious at Kyle and Will, well, Will was being Will. Always taking control of the situation when nobody stepped up, staying in the background until he was absolutely needed. He had always been the quietest of them all, and perhaps the wisest.

"How can you ask me to calm down?!"

"Listen Alex, you know Kyle and Anya, you know he wouldn't do anything intentionally to hurt her, so something must be really wrong if he had to push her away, especially right now, right? You know he'd do anything for her."

Alex was quiet, his head was bent down, "I know." And he did know, everyone knew, nobody came between Kyle and Anya. In kindergarten, a teacher had separated them because they talked too much, and Kyle in rebellion, stood outside the principal's office the entire day just because it was near Anya's homeroom.

They walked towards the kitchen, pulled a chair and sat on either side of her.

"Anya, are you okay? Is it paining?" Alex reached out to her but she flinched away. It was a very inconsequential thing but he understood. It was always the little things that sent the loudest of messages.

"You didn't do any of the things I told you to, did you?" Anya looked at Will and gave a small smile, "Sorry." She thought, if anyone, Will had to be the mom of their little group.

"Wait right here, I'll get everything." This way, even Alex and Anya would get an opportunity to talk, so he made himself scarce.

He was about to enter Kyle's bathroom to get the ointment when he saw the main door had a huge hole where the handle was supposed to be. It was left wide open with small fissures in the door and wood splinters on the floor.

"Guys, you have to come see this!" Will called out frantically.

Alex came out first, followed by Anya. By now, Anya had full knowledge of the situation, but she was still terrified to react, her voice trembling when she asked, "Kyle- Kyle, did this?"