Three Men Can Keep a Secret

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{{Book|title1 = TITLE NEEDED|caption1 = Cover art needed!|main_character = Sylvia Hays-Araya|setting = Providence, Rhode Island|author = Silver}

Prologue
With the lighting of a candle,

The story shall begin...

The sky is cloudy today. The moisture hangs in the chilly air, giving a claustrophobic feeling to the already gloomy afternoon. It's rather late, already 6:00 as my watch reads. The sky will soon darken, making it harder to see and find my way home. I love Sylvie, I do, but sometimes it feels like she's too busy to be bothered. Between all her practices and study groups and double dates, it's become nearly impossible to set up some alone time with her, and now, the first time we've met up in a month, she is late.

I'm walking down the streets, quite sparse as all the people are either inside for dinner or unwilling to go outside in this odd, sticky, lukewarm weather. At last, I come to the building where my little sister is supposed to meet me. The Imperial Coffeehouse, the wooden sign reads, and a bell above the door jingles as I step into the cafe.

The area is rather empty, just a few college students tapping on their laptops and some late workers grabbing a cup of coffee to fortify themselves for a long night of toil. I sit down at the countertop, looking lazily at the menu. I'm really hungry, but know Sylvie would feel bad if I had already eaten before she came, so I try not to tempt myself too much with the promise of baked goods and cinnamon-topped coffees.

I look up as a man sits down next to me, clad in dark-colored and tight-fitting clothing. He looks back at me and, with a grunt, turns to the barista and orders a flat white. Something about him sets me on edge, but I'm unsure exactly what it is. I decide it's the air of truculence with which he carries himself, as if he were itching to break something.

I check my watch again, now anxious for Sylvie to get here. 6:30, it reads. Thirty minutes of waiting, and still she isn't here. I sigh and pull out my phone, scrolling through my texts to make sure I didn't miss anything from my little sister. Suddenly, it buzzes, and I see a notification flag come down the display, delivering a message from her. ''I'll be another thirty minutes; just got out of practice. Sorry!'' it reads. I sigh and close my phone, debating whether I should just buy something at this point, since it seems like maybe she'll never arrive.

I open my mouth to speak to the barista, when suddenly I hear the little bell chime again. I look towards the door, seeing more people in dark clothing walk in. Just two, but enough to make me know that something's up. I stand up, my hand a little shaky as I slip my phone into my back pocket. I notice that most of the patrons have left the cafe, leaving only the dark-clothed people, me, and a small study group in the building. I slowly walk out the door, the barista thanking me for coming in as the bell jingles, much louder than it was before, or so it seems.

I hurry down the sidewalk, knowing better than to walk back to my house. If the people are who I think, I would be endangering my entire family if I did. I head left instead, rushing down the sparse streets to some building, any building that I can take refuge in.

I hear the door jingle faintly behind me and break into a run.

I sprint down the streets, jacket billowing behind me as I race to the end of the street. I can hear the dark-clothed people's footsteps behind me as loudly as I can hear my own beating heart.

At last, I reach a building large enough that I can hide in for at least a bit. In big, white lettering it reads Starloft Corporation, and I instantly recognize that I'm in the middle of the Shopping District, meaning that I'm all alone out here. To make matters worse, it's dark outside now, the sky a bleak charcoal gray. I rush to the double glass doors, shaking them in anger as I realize they're locked. I look around anxiously, suddenly finding a brick that was slightly dislodged from the wall. I pull it out, testing the weight. It feels heavy and large enough that I should be able to break the doors with it.

I reel back with all my might and hurl the brick into a door, shattering a small amount of it. I wince as I hear sirens inside the building begin to go off, alerting all bystanders that the security has been breached. With any luck, the alarm will alert the police that someone is in trouble. I cover my hand with my jacket and begin to punch through the glass around the hole, trying desperately to make a hole large enough for me to crawl through.

At last, I succeed in breaking away enough of the door that I can tumble through it, landing on my stomach. I pick myself up and continue running, adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. As I race across the floor of the lobby, I hear the shattering of glass just over the screaming of the sirens, blaring in my ears like the crying of a thousand seagulls, but so, so much worse.

I see the elevators near me, but know that they'll only endanger and slow me. Instead, I take the stairs nearby, heaving open the heavy door and taking the stairs two at a time. I can hear my own footsteps echoing through the stairwell, but am still wary of someone following me. I don't stop as I run, wanting to put as much distance between me and my pursuers as possible.

I reach the top of the stairs, the tenth floor. I open the door and look around, seeing a relatively open space with floor-to-ceiling windows all around. There's a mahogany table in the middle, and I realize this must be a conference room. I look around hurriedly for somewhere to hide, as I can hear footsteps still echoing from the closing door, and growing louder by the second.

I rush to a little wall gallery, with a few paintings standing alone on the side. I hide behind one of the pieces, shaking now with dread, adrenaline, and pure, utter terror. I try to quiet my heavy and shaky breathing, focusing on slowing my racing heart and clearing my head from the awful thoughts that are pooling and swirling in it.

I hear the door heave open, just one set of footsteps clicking in. Despite my best efforts, I tremble, the fear seeping into all of my senses and fighting to take control. I see black boots appear right under the wall gallery and try to scoot away, until I hear a deep voice.

"I know where you are," it says, a hand reaching to the painting I'm hiding behind and knocking it to the ground. I jump up and try to skitter away, but it's no use. A foot hooks my ankle, and I yelp as I slip to the ground. I see the hazy outline of a figure, black on black. And the sirens, oh the sirens, they blare on and on, unaware that anything is going on, that I have just lost the fight for my life.

I feel a hand hook around my collar and pull me up, and I'm suddenly being dragged close to a corner. I struggle to look down on the streets below me, trying and failing to plant my feet on the ground so I can't be tugged any farther.

At last, I'm slammed against the glass, wincing at the impact. The figure pins me by my throat, suffocating me as they pull out a knife.

"I liked you a lot. You were nice," they say in that deep voice, and I manage to release a growl

"If y-you liked me, you wouldn't be killing me f-for her," I manage to rasp out.

"Now, now, Laurel," the person says, drawing the knife up to my heart. "You know that's impossible."

I find myself unable to scream, unable to shout. My fear and anger have frozen me stiff, and I simply stare at the dark silhouette with utter hatred and terror, not bothering to look defiant. Tears begin to form in my eyes as I think of Sylvie, of my parents. Of Aaron and my friends. And of her. Always of her.

"Hey," the deep voice says, and I even hear a twinge of remorse this time. "Don't cry; I promise this will barely hurt."

The sirens fill my ears with their cacophony of warnings and screeches and terrors and horrors and I scream with them.

I'm ready.

Chapter 1
It was sunny today. Too sunny, as Sylvie thought. The hot rays beat down on the short girl's black clothing, making her extra uncomfortable as she sweat through it. Her eyes glistened with tears, and her face was flushed and blotchy. Her short black dress was heavy with sweat and heat, furthering her discomfort.

Sylvie could hear the sniffles of her parents, family, and friends as the reverend softly spoke prayers for a safe passage into heaven. She clenched her mother's hand, not caring how childish it made her look. She needed something to tether her to this world, something to keep her from crumpling to the ground or exploding into a cloud of dust.

Laurel was gone, and she was never coming back. Sylvie would have to accept that.

But she didn't want to.

The police's and the coroner's report agreed completely; Laurel had died of a clean strike to the heart, one stab wound that almost instantly took her life. They said that she had most likely felt little pain, if any at all. As if that was supposed to help.

The reverend had finished speaking, now moving on with a clearing of his throat.

"And now, Sylvia Hays-Araya, Laurel's sister, has prepared some words of remembrance for us," he said, gesturing for Sylvie to take his place. She did so quietly, trying to quell the beating of her heart as she took the place at the head of the grave.

She coughed, just once, before shakily pulling out the slip of paper that held her speech. She unfolded it, looking at the neatly typed words apprehensively. At last, she began to speak.

"I want to start by thanking you all for coming here today," she started, her voice tremulous. "It means a lot to us, and I'm sure it would have meant just as much to Laurel if, um, if she were here today." She kicked at the ground with her black high heel, feeling even more uncomfortable under the eyes of so many people.

"Laurel was my sister and my, um, my best friend. She was always there for me, even when I wasn't there for her or was mean to her or didn't have time for me. She was my rock, always around in case I needed someone. I remember one time, I tripped and fell into the fountain when we were playing tag, and I hit my head pretty hard on the rock bottom. Laurel came sprinting back and lifted me out, carrying me all the way back to the house so my parents could drive me to the ER. I had a concussion and probably died if she hadn't come back to get me. She was truly a saint on earth, the gentlest and kindest person you'd ever meet." Sylvie looked up at the sky, the light blue dappled and streaked with clouds like an artist's testing palette. She took a deep breath and looked at the last line of her speech. "Laurel, if you're looking down on this ceremony from your new home in heaven, know that I love you. And miss you. With all my heart."

She felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks again, the grief she felt inside rising up to her throat and rendering her unable to talk. Laurel was gone and she wasn't coming back. She was gone, she was dead and gone, and Sylvie wasn't only in denial of that fact, she simply didn't have the capacity to accept it. Her sister who had been there with her for everything couldn't be near her for the worst moment of Sylvie's life, which was caused by her loss. It was an awful cycle.

"Thank you, Sylvia, for that wonderful speech," the reverend said, stepping back to his place at the head of the grave. He lightly touched his hand to her waist, ushering her forward. She walked back to her parents, unable to focus on the rest of the service. Her mind was caught in its own web of despair, and she was unwilling to pull herself out. She walked forward and threw the customary handful of rich dirt into the grave, not looking at the mahogany coffin as she did so. She walked towards the car quietly, trying to beat the wave of people giving their condolences.

Just as she was almost at the car, she was stopped by a cold hand with white nail polish. She turned to see Clara, looking resplendent in a short black dress with layers of tulle fluffing the skirt. Her heels shone in the sunlight, and her carefully curled blonde hair assured that she would be leaving with someone's number.

"Sylvie!" Clara said, pulling her into a hug. "I am so sorry about Laurel. I know how it must feel; my dog died a few years back, and I always carry that loss with me wherever I go."

Sylvie nodded sympathetically, but only feeling annoyance at her friend's attempt at comfort. That was Clara; always having to bring herself into a conversation.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly, making a move to get into her car.

"Wait! What's wrong? Why are you leaving so soon?" Clara asked, grabbing onto her hand.

"I'd like to be alone, please, Clara," Sylvie replied shortly.

"Oh. Okay. Well, goodbye, then," she said, seeming to at least somewhat accept the fact that she wasn't wanted. "See you around, Sylvie. Feel better."

Feel better. Like that was possible for her. She had just lost the person closest to her; she wouldn't feel better for a long time.

She moved to sit on the hood, passing the time by observing the funeral from afar, the sun making her sweat profusely. She lay back and closed her eyes, not to sleep, but to try to make it all go away.

SilverTheIcewingHybrid (talk)

By the time her parents came back, the sun was beginning its path westward. They were too tired and preoccupied to yell at Sylvie for lying on the hood; they simply motioned for her to get into the car and got into the front seats.

Sylvie slowly got off the hood and into the Porsche, the interior much cooler than the outside. She kept her eyes fixed on the driver's seat in front of her, never moving. She was worn out and felt oddly empty, most likely from the outpouring of grief she had had at the service.

No one spoke the entire car ride, and when they got home they silently went their separate ways, knowing that they would all have different business to attend to.

Sylvie's father locked himself in his office, not coming out for anything. Her mother walked the sprawling grounds aimlessly, lost in thought. And Sylvie herself went to her room, sitting quietly at her window seat and watching the day pass by. She held Hyzenthlay, her black silver fox rabbit, in her lap as she stared out the glass, crying sometimes and at other times simply blankly staring out with glazed eyes.

When night came, she didn't try to sleep. She knew she wouldn't; how could she be able to after what had just happened? Instead, she went downstairs and curled up in the movie room, turning on the old movie channel just to have something to do. As the technicolor and black-and-white images played on, she didn't watch. Her mind whirred through her time with Laurel, her only sister. The good and the bad spun through her head, but she always found herself coming back to one point.

''If only I had been there. If only I had left practice early, if only I had actually gotten there on time, she wouldn't have been killed. She would still be here, and we might be watching movies together. If only I had been with her, I might have scared the murderer off. If only, if only, if only.''

She switched off the TV and curled up on the couch, her eyes open wide in the darkness as she waited for daylight.

Chapter 2
COMING SOON!!