Runes by Em Petrova

ached for Evangeline.
    Sean led Olivia into his bedroom, tormented by memories of leading his lover here. He crumpled on the bedside, bowed his head and gestured to the long wall.
    Olivia gasped. “My God, Sean,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
    “I know,” he responded, openly crying now.
    His sister looked at him with horror.
    “It’s her tattoo. On her throat. See? When she was lying down, this is how it looked,” he said brokenly. He’d spent days cutting the intricate stars and rune shapes, and then welding the metal parts together, creating a magnificent puzzle. The sight of it tortured him. He knew without a doubt that she’d been torn from him. She hadn’t wanted to go.
    “Sean,” Olivia said unevenly, “this is not normal. Come away with me. Come to New York and stay. Don’t stay here with these memories and your pain. It’s obviously bigger than you. Please let me help.”
    He shook his head. “I can’t go. What if she comes back?”
    She fell to her knees before him and gathered his hands into hers. “Then she stays someplace else until she can contact you. What the hell happened?” From the other room Evangeline’s song began again on continuous play. “Is that her?” Olivia asked.
    His head bobbed. Tears dropped onto his hands. “She’d never have left of her own free will. She was coerced, taken from me. I saw her eyes and I know her. Dammit,” he cried, jumping to his feet. He lunged forward and rammed his already bloodied knuckles into the brick wall. His sister screamed, but it felt so satisfying to give in to anger, he did it again. “I should have done something. I should have saved her,” he whispered. He swept his arm across the top of his dresser, sending all of his Tae Kwan Do trophies crashing to the floor. He cocked his foot and kicked them, grinding them beneath his boot. He spun to the corner, where the empty cardboard box stood. The box that had once held Evangeline’s clothes. He sent a series of kicks into it, crushing it. The noise of his assault mingled with Olivia’s screams.
    Then Olivia was restraining him, fighting him to stop. Her tears cut through the haze, and he gained precious control. He dropped back, breathing like he’d raced for miles uphill. Beads of sweat from his hairline trickled down his jaw.
    “All right,” he said at last, drawing her into his arms. He could smell her citrusy perfume but longed for Evangeline’s sandalwood scent. His gaze fixed upon the empty corner where she’d kept the cardboard box filled with her clothes, because she'd refused his dresser or closet space. Not able to bear the thought that she’d never return to him, he clutched his sister. Her loving hold did little to comfort him. Only one thing could ease his despair. Evangeline.
    “I’ll go,” he said and broke into sobs anew.
    * * * *
    Standing on the Chicago streets, Sean shook the house keys in his grasp. He fumbled with the multiple locks in his hurry to get inside and listen to his answering machine. Evangeline hadn’t called his cell, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t left a message on his home phone.
    He hurled his travel bag into the corner, slammed the door, and dashed across the living room, his heart racing at the sight of the blinking red light on the machine. Falling to his knees, he jabbed the play button. As the male voice filled the room, his heart sank with defeat. But listening closer, a cold terror stole over him, numbing his face and hands.
    “This message is for Sean Livingston,” the voice said. “I have information regarding the whereabouts of Evangeline Mayer if you would meet me to discuss it.”
    He jotted down an address, jabbing the paper with his pen. Without shutting off the machine, he ran across the room, back to the door, his feet struggling for purchase on the slippery concrete. He burst into the sunlit street without bothering to lock the gates. And began running.
    She was in trouble. He’d known it, God, he’d known.