The Eleven by Kyle Rutkin

Author:Kyle Rutkin [Rutkin, Kyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Died Famous
Published: 2024-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

We returned to Los Angeles just in time to celebrate Pips’s first birthday. We hosted an extravagant celebration at our new house in the hills. It was a star-studded affair with Jane’s former co-stars, Javier’s family, even my agent was in attendance. Both Pips and Jane wore pink dresses with fluffy unicorn horns. Halfway through the party, Jane’s father made a surprise appearance, pulling out a flask and offering it to me. He had fallen off the wagon.

I caught a glimpse of Jane watching from afar. She saw me refuse the flask, but it still stung. The two most important men in her life were addicts.

I knew the tests would keep on coming.

I started to despise Los Angeles, the noise, the chaos, the incessant calls. I never left the house. Jane and I watched the Oscars together from the couch. When it was time for Best Actor, Jane left the room, but I needed to watch. Everyone knew he would win. When the camera panned to Jacob in his seat, I was stunned. The crisp black tux couldn’t mask his complete physical demise. His face was sunken in, his collar cinching closely around his slender neck. I hadn’t seen the movie he was nominated for, The Canvas. But it was everywhere. No one could stop talking about the final scene in which his character, the young artist, finally faces the blank canvas after a bone-chilling murder, revealing that the character was a portrayal of the most notorious villain of our time. Adolf Hitler.

It was controversial, and it would win him a gold statue.

When they announced his name, my entire body prickled with jealousy. I hated that he had pulled ahead. We were supposed to conquer Hollywood together. But he had done it without me. I hated that I cared. I hated that my family and my daughter weren’t enough.

Jacob stepped to the podium; his gaunt cheeks more expressed under the stage lights. It was eerie. He didn’t thank a single soul in his speech. He spoke of the power of true artistry and sacrifice. That it is an artist’s job to go places others won’t. That Hitler himself might have been a great artist had he confronted his shadows. But look what he became…Then Jacob stared straight into the camera, staring into my soul.

“It is our duty to seek the truth, even when the path is filled with evil. Even if the evil is you.”

Suddenly, I had an urge to throw up. To find as much blow as I could. To drink myself into oblivion. My hands trembled as I leaned over the bathroom sink, staring in the mirror. Within that reflection, the haunting shadows from my childhood hovered over me, breathing down my neck.

They knew their time was coming.

I turned my father’s ring around my finger, begging for the darkness to retreat.

Then I went to my daughter’s room and held her.

I prayed that her light could push back whatever evil lay inside me.

The following week, I got a call from Vick Tuttle, who had also won an Oscar with Jacob for directing The Canvas.

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