12. Twelve Lakey
Twelve: Lakey
T he crunch of gravel under our feet sounded like bones breaking. Fitting, considering the shithole looming before us. I squinted at the faded sign, my stomach churning as memories clawed their way up my throat.
"St. Agnes Home for Wayward Girls," I read aloud, my voice barely a whisper. "More like St. Agnes House of Fucking Horrors. Who the fuck was St. Agnes anyway? Probably some cunt with a stick up her ass and the pope’s dick down her throat."
Cam's hand found the small of my back, a gentle pressure grounding me. "You okay, sweetheart?"
I swallowed hard, pushing down the bile. "Peachy. Let's get this over with."
We approached the decrepit building, its windows like hollow eyes watching our every move. Each step closer sent shivers down my spine, my body remembering the pain these walls had witnessed. But I wouldn't let the past win. Not again. Not ever.
"You sure about this, Lakes?" Cam's voice was low, concern etched in his features as he regarded my hesitancy. "We can turn back."
I shook my head, steeling myself. "No. I need to face this. There are too many blind spots in my memory. They probably kept some kind of filing system here. Names, addresses… procedures…"
Cam nodded, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter. "Alright. Let's find a way in."
He led us around back, his tall frame casting long shadows in the fading light. I trailed behind, my fingers absently tracing the scars on my arms. Each one a reminder of what I'd endured, what I'd survived.
"Hey," Cam called out suddenly, jerking me from my thoughts. He was pointing at a window, slightly ajar. "Kitchen entrance. Looks like our ticket in."
I stared at the opening, my heart racing. This was it. No turning back now.
"After you, my dear," Cam said with a smirk, gesturing dramatically.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. Even in the face of my personal hell, he could still make me grin. Twisted as our love might be, it was ours.
"Such a gentleman," I quipped, moving towards the window. "Don't forget, if anyone’s in here, they’re mine. Don’t even think about killing them before I do."
Cam's laugh echoed in the empty yard. "Wouldn't dream of it, darling. Your murderous tendencies are one of your most endearing qualities."
As I gripped the windowsill, preparing to hoist myself inside, I paused. The familiar scent of lemon-pine cleaner somehow wafted out, mixed with mold and decay threatening to overwhelm me.
"I can do this," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes briefly. "I'm not that scared little girl anymore."
Cam's hand squeezed my shoulder. "No, you're not. You're a goddamn force of nature, Lakey Aldrich. Now let's go raise some hell."
With a deep breath, I nodded and pulled myself through the window, ready to face whatever ghosts awaited us inside.
I landed on the dusty kitchen floor with a soft thud, my feet kicking up clouds of neglect. The sound echoed through the empty room, making my skin crawl. As Cam's large frame followed me through the window, I took in our surroundings.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered, my eyes darting around the kitchen.
Broken plates and shattered cups littered the floor like abandoned memories. Chairs lay overturned, frozen in a moment of panic that had long since passed. The air was thick with dust and death, coating my lungs with each breath.
"Looks like everyone left in a hurry," Cam observed, his dark eyes scanning the room. "Bad memories, sweetheart?"
I swallowed hard, pushing down the bile rising in my throat. "You have no idea."
Without waiting for a response, I stepped forward, crunching broken ceramic under my boots. My fingers trailed along the countertop, leaving trails in the dust. Each step brought back flashes of my past – the strict mealtimes, the harsh voices, the constant fear.
"This way," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
I moved through the building, Cam's presence a comforting shadow behind me. My eyes darted to each room we passed, memories assaulting me with every familiar space.
The common room, where we'd gather for "group therapy" that was more like psychological warfare. The small day infirmary, where I'd hidden more than once, faking illness to escape the day's torments. The showers, where... I shuddered, pushing that particular memory away.
"You okay?" Cam's voice cut through my thoughts.
I paused, my hand resting on a door frame. "Define 'okay,'" I laughed bitterly. "I'm in the place that haunted my nightmares for years. But sure, I'm okay."
Cam's hand found the small of my back before tangling in my hair. "Do you need some pain?"
"Yes,” I whimpered as he pulled my hair and crushed his lips on mine, biting my bottom lip until it bled, the metallic taste flooding my senses and pushing out the fear.
He pulled off me and slapped my ass so hard I was gonna bruise. “Thank you.” I said with a smile, wiping the blood from my chin.
“I got you, baby girl.”
I pressed on, each step feeling lighter. Cam always knew what I needed. Knew that pain was the barrier with which I protected my heart. The fragmented pieces of my soul. I led the way down the long hallway, barely sparing a glance at each room as we passed.
"Almost there," I muttered, more to myself than to Cam. "Just a little further."
I stopped at the end of the hall, my hand hovering over a painfully familiar door handle. My throat constricted, words barely escaping in a whisper. "This... this was my room."
Cam's eyes flickered with understanding, a rare softness crossing his features. Without a word, he reached past me and pushed the door open.
The creak of rusted hinges felt like a scream in the silence. I stepped inside, my legs trembling beneath me. The room was a time capsule, preserved in all its miserable glory. My old bed was pushed against the wall on the left, still neatly made as if waiting for my return. A wave of nausea hit me as I remembered the nights spent curled up there, trying to muffle my sobs.
"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes drawn to a half-torn picture still clinging to the wall. It was Cam, younger and somehow more innocent, his cocky grin preserved in faded ink. I'd stolen that photo from our social worker's file, my own little act of rebellion.
"Well, well," Cam drawled, his eyes fixed on the picture. "Looks like I've always been irresistible."
I snorted, grateful for the moment of levity. "Don't flatter yourself, Axley. I just needed something to aim darts at."
But even as I joked, my mind raced. This room held so many secrets, so much pain. Across from me was Lydia’s bed. She’d been my roommate for a year… until she told me that Father Christopher had raped her and that something terrible was going to happen. I’d brushed it off, but then she just disappeared, replaced by some other chick.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my fingers trembling as I reached for the small set of drawers beside it. The wood was warped, sticky with age, but it gave way with a groan. Inside, a jumble of papers caught my eye. My heart clenched as I pulled them out, recognizing letters I’d written to Cam, but could never send.
"You good?"
I nodded, but my voice betrayed me, cracking as I spoke. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine."
It was a lie, and we both knew it. The weight of the memories pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate. I took a shaky breath, steeling myself.
"Lydia," I began, my eyes fixed on the bed across the way. "My roommate. God, Cam, the things she told me that night... things that were so horrific, I thought she was lying. Things I think…"
I could feel Cam's intense gaze on me as I recounted the horrors Lydia had confided. The words spilled out, a torrent of dark secrets and unimaginable cruelty. As I spoke, I felt that familiar detachment creeping in, the psychopathic chill that usually kept me safe from emotions. But here, in this room, surrounded by the ghosts of my past, even that shield was cracking.
"She was so scared," I whispered, my fingers tracing my words on the paper. "And I... I couldn't protect her."
My voice faltered, the memory of Lydia's disappearance hitting me hard. "And then she was just... gone. Like she'd never existed."
I looked up at Cam, my eyes stinging. "Sister Anne, that sanctimonious bitch, she looked me right in the eye and said there had never been a Lydia here. Can you believe that? Told me I was confused, that I'd always been with Emma in this room."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips, tinged with a hint of the madness I usually kept locked away. "For a whole year, I thought maybe I'd imagined her. That I'd finally cracked and made up a whole person. I actually started to believe them."
I stood abruptly; my legs shaky but propelling me towards Lydia's old bed. My hands skimmed over the surface, searching desperately for any trace of my lost friend. The mattress was lumpy, springs poking through in places, but I didn't care. I had to find something, anything. As I searched, a broken spring cut into my hand as it caught on my skin. I hardly noticed the blood I was smearing all over as I kept looking.
"Come on, Lydia," I muttered, "give me a sign. You were real, I know you were."
My fingers caught on something wedged between the mattress and the bedframe. I pulled, revealing a small, folded piece of paper. With trembling hands, I opened it.
There, in faded ink, was Lydia's name. Underneath she had written ‘remember me’.
"Oh god," I whispered, a sob catching in my throat. I pressed the paper to my chest, a tangible proof of her existence. "I remember you, Lydia. I swear, I'll never forget."
I turned to Cam, my eyes wild with a mix of grief and determination. "We're going to make them pay for what they did to her. To all of us."
In that moment, I felt the familiar darkness rising within me, but for once, it wasn't directed at the world at large. No, this time, it had a very specific target. Or rather, targets.
I clutched the paper with Lydia's name to my chest, taking a deep breath that made my lungs feel like they were being poisoned by the dirt and grime that floated in the air. My heart pounded, a twisted mix of grief and anticipation coursing through my veins. I could feel Cam's eyes on me, watchful and intense.
"Let's go," I said, my voice unnervingly sweet even to my own ears. "We've got some motherfucking ghosts to chase, darling."
I strode out of the room, my steps echoing in the empty hallway. The familiar surroundings sent chills down my spine as we walked down to the all-too-familiar door of dread, but I pushed the fear aside. I was no longer that helpless little girl. Now, I was the monster they should fear.
As we approached the elevator at the end of the hall, I felt a surge of dark excitement. "This is where the real fun begins," I chirped, my fingers trailing along the grimy wall.
I peered down the elevator shaft, the blackness below seeming to stretch into infinity. The rusty cables swayed slightly, creaking in the silence. My stomach lurched, memories of being forced down there flooding back.
"Well, shit," I muttered, turning to Cam with a pout. "Looks like our express ticket to hell is out of order."
Cam's dark eyes glittered with amusement. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Scared of a little climb?"
I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smile. "In your dreams, asshole. We just need to find another way down. There's gotta be a stairwell or something."
As we continued our exploration, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. But instead of fear, I felt a thrill of anticipation. Whatever was waiting for us in the basement, I was ready to face it head-on.
"Hey Cam," I said, my voice deceptively light, "want to make a bet on how many bodies we'll find down there?"
“Probably a lot. I have an idea… sometimes these old buildings have underground pathways. Would make sense if they were doing shady shit here.” I remember reading in some obscure handbook I downloaded off the dark web that cults usually hid everything in the basement. Seems fucked, honestly. If I were hiding a bunch of bodies, I wouldn’t write exactly where I was dumping them, but I suppose it’s human nature, a morbid curiosity, to see if someone would believe them.
We dump our bodies into the ocean. Where the sharks can eat the evidence, and no one will be able to find them. Amateurs.
He regarded me for a moment before grinning, “Ooooh, a secret tunnel adventure? I love that idea. Let’s go find out.”