4. Res
4
Res
L et it be known that I love Lyssa to death. She was there for me when a lot of others abandoned and ostracized me. However, I could do without her sitting in front of me, crying her eyes out over the loss of a bunch of people who only ever made my life hell.
“I’m sorry,” Lyssa says, wiping her eyes and nose with tissues. “I should be comforting you. You lost your entire family.”
A family I helped murder and haven’t regretted murdering once since I committed the act.
Since I’m decidedly lacking the need to be comforted, I say to Lyssa, “It’s okay. These people might as well have been your family too. You knew them your whole life.”
That was the wrong thing to say because Lyssa just cries harder, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because my only grief is that she won’t be the last person like this I have to deal with this week leading up to the funeral on Friday.
“Sorry,” Lyssa says yet again as she composes herself. “How are you doing with… everything?”
“All cried out. Now I just feel numb,” I reply .
It’s not a lie. I am all cried out, and I am numb. My family was dead to me the moment Jaxson showed me the pictures of my brother abusing me as a child. By the time I decided not to stop Jaxson from murdering them and that I was going to help him, it was little more than killing the zombified bodies of people I’d thought cared for me in their own unhelpful ways. And by that time, I was done shedding tears.
If it wouldn’t be suspicious of me when there’s an ongoing investigation into what happened, I’d cremate my family’s remains, throw them in a random dumpster, and get the hell on with my life. Well, my mother and father’s remains. Abigail, as the widow of my brother, is the one who decides what to do with my brother’s body.
Regardless, as it is, I have to have a funeral. Until they definitively conclude my brother is responsible based on the evidence Jaxson planted, concocted, and falsified, I’m still a suspect, especially considering I have motive even if my alibi is airtight. Can’t be too careful.
Lyssa suddenly smiles, but before I can be concerned or relieved that at least she’s not crying, she speaks.
“Too numb to talk about your new boyfriend?” Lyssa asks.
I play dumb. “Boyfriend?”
Lyssa rolls her eyes. “Don’t try to play dumb with me. My aunt has connections with the lead detective on the case.”
“Darryl Wright. Yes. I’m aware,” I state dryly, unable to hide my disdain for the man on his son’s behalf.
“Anyway, she told me that when they went to you for questioning, they found you at your boyfriend’s house, and they used his security system to verify you and Abigail’s alibi,” Lyssa says. Then, with a grin that’s a stark contrast to the tear tracks on her face, she adds, “So?”
I almost wish she were still crying. I don’t want to talk about Jaxson right now.
My short trip to Chicago was a stark reminder of the kind of man I’m dealing with. Everything that happened in the last few weeks and him being the only one I can turn to has made everything he’s put me through in the past few months seem so much more distant. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be dealing with this. I’d be clocked into work and either bored out of my mind or editing a podcast for High Demand if it weren’t for him and his machinations to force me to accept his permanent and insistent presence in my life.
And now, after all that, when I thought I could accept him, when I’d decided that maybe a life with him wouldn’t be so bad, that maybe I did want everything he had to offer and he knew it all along—I was jarringly reminded that above all else, he wants power.
“It’s… it’s still new,” I finally say, trying to dodge Lyssa’s question.
“Oh, come on! I tell you about all the guys I date,” she says.
“Date” is a strong way of referring to all the crushes Lyssa has on any man who pays her a modicum of positive attention. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with that. Just that… well, she’s divorced for a reason.
Before I can try to deflect her again, she perks up and says, “Was it that guy you were with for Christmas? I didn’t get to talk to you that night, and things have been busy, so I didn’t get a chance to ask you.”
I hesitate just a bit too long in denying it.
“It was, wasn’t it?” she says with a grin. “He was cute.”
I chuckle. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
Lyssa moves from the armchair to sit right next to me. I shift over, having always been weird about people being in my personal space. As of a few weeks ago, I know why.
Lyssa doesn’t get the hint and scoots closer.
“Come on. Tell me about him!”
I scramble for a reason to shift away from her again and avoid talking about Jaxson.
The doorbell rings, and I move like a shot to answer it.
“J!” I exclaim upon seeing the curly-haired dark brunette boy with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Res,” he says. He looks past me and sees Lyssa. “Is now a bad time or…?”
“No!” I say, ushering him inside. “It’s perfect.”
J shoots me a dubious look but doesn’t resist me bringing him inside.
“Do I know you?” Lyssa asks.
She does, but I don’t think J wants Lyssa to know that.
“He’s a kid who came around One Humanity before a friend took him in,” I say.
“Nice to meet you,” J mutters.
“You too,” Lyssa says as she stands up. “I have to get to work, Res. I wish I could stay.”
“It’s fine,” I assure, hoping my relief doesn’t slip through .
“Call me if you need anything,” she says. “Actually, do you need help with the funeral? If so, I can—”
“I’m good,” I say. Really, I’m not. I don’t even know where to begin planning a funeral. I only got as far as calling the funeral home and setting a date. Beyond that, I have no clue what else to do. “Don’t take off work. I know you need the money.”
“Okay,” she says and hugs me before leaving.
I let out a sigh of relief after locking the door behind her.
“Who was she?” J asks.
“One of my best friends.”
“You seemed happy to see her go.”
“Everything has just… been a lot lately.”
“I can bet,” J says, setting down the bag on his shoulder. “Jaxson said you were back in town. Someone’s been whining for you.”
I realize his bag is a cat carrier as he takes out my gray tabby cat.
“Nala,” I say, taking her from him. “Did you miss me?”
Nala gives me a displeased look, clearly disgruntled at me for leaving her for a few days. I’m proven right when she immediately jumps out of my arms and back into the carrier. I laugh. She’ll get over being mad at me in a few days.
“Come on. I’ve gotta get the house together for the repast. You can help while you catch me up on what’s happening in your life,” I say, happy to talk about anything but my life.
Thankfully, J is just as happy as he tells me what he’s been up to since the new year. Specifically, he’s enrolled in school—much to his dismay .
“Jaxson has me in some rich, preppy school that I’m sure costs more than most people’s salaries in a year, Res. I know. I saw him write the check. And that’s without uniforms and supplies. The kids are awful too. It’s like they live in a totally different world,” he says.
“Tell me about it,” I say. “You don’t know how relieved I was that my parents were forced to send me to public school because they couldn’t afford to send me to one of those schools when I was young. And by the time I was old enough, and they had the money, I put up such a fuss that they didn’t think it was worth fighting.”
“Trust me. I fought Jaxson on it, but no dice. Something about not being able to bribe a public school with the forged paperwork,” he mutters.
If forging paperwork for a kid he took in because he was close to me weren't the least of the things I know Jaxson has done, I might be concerned. And I’m not even sure I’d be concerned if it weren’t the least, considering there’s a good chance of J’s dad finding him if he goes back to a public school.
“Jaxson says it’s just temporary. Only for the semester, and then next year I can go in Chicago,” J adds.
“Chicago?” I ask.
“Yeah. He says you two are moving up there sometime this year. After you get everything straight with… all this,” J says vaguely, gesturing with his hands.
“You can say it. After the whole murder and arson investigation,” I say with a sigh.
“Yeah…” J says, looking away from me.
We’re silent as we carry the heavy coffee table out of the room to put in my dad’s former home office.
“Hey, Res. Look,” J begins. “Sorry… about all this.”
“You’re saying it like any of it is your fault.”
“I know. It’s just… look, I didn’t like most of those stupid fuckers that died,” he begins.
“Language,” I say reflexively.
“I can definitely tell you’ve been hanging around Jaxson. You didn’t use to care,” J mutters. “Anyway, I didn’t like most of them, but they were family, and while I won’t miss them, and I kinda wish my dad had been in the building with them, I guess I wish it hadn’t happened for your sake.”
I stare at J, not sure what to say to that. Not sure what to say to someone who is as ambivalent about the death of my family as I am.
“Sorry. That was insensitive. I shouldn’t have—”
After having to sit through the afternoon with Lyssa and pretend that I gave a damn, I can’t help but laugh in front of J. And laugh. And laugh. And keep laughing until my stomach hurts. It’s so odd that J and Nala exchange a wide-eyed look before J looks back at me and Nala bounds upstairs to hide.
“Res…”
“Sorry,” I say through my laughter. “I just… trust me. I’m the last person that’s going to judge you for not caring that my whole family, the Deacon Board, and Loving Eden got blown up. Fuck those bitches.”
I shouldn’t be saying anything like that when the investigation is still ongoing. But it’s not like they’re going to track down J to tell. First, they’d have to know we were close, and not many people are aware of that. Second, J’s father, the lead detective on the case, would have to get J to cooperate, and that wouldn’t happen unless he acknowledges he has a son, which isn’t happening any time soon.
“Fuck them,” I whisper again.
“Res…”
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” J says, clearly relieved at the escape opportunity, only for him to shout for me to come to the door.
I head to the front door, only to stop halfway there when I see the person standing before the threshold with her dark blonde, highlighted hair in a messy bun.
“We’re not having visitors,” I snap.
“Lauressa,” Shelly says, and it occurs to me that she too always calls me by my full name. Something I hadn’t put much thought into when we were working together. But it all makes so much sense now.
“Um…” J looks back and forth between us.
“Close the door,” I tell J.
J does so with a grin, always happy for the excuse to be rude.
“Lauressa,” Shelly says through the door. “Please. Open the door.”
“I don’t want to see you,” I snap. “Go away, or I’ll call the cops.”
It’s an empty threat. I wouldn’t dare while J is still here. But Shelly doesn’t know that.
“Jaxson asked me to check on you,” Shelly adds .
Of course that’s the only reason she’s here, and unfortunately, that changes things. Because I know what Jaxson is capable of. And while I haven’t heard of him killing his people for failing him, the fact remains I don’t know that he wouldn’t either. I haven’t seen the men who were tailing me the day that I disappeared to Savannah last year since then, after all.
I stomp over to the front door and open it, glaring into the woman’s brown eyes.
“I have a peace offering. From your favorite Chinese spot. There’s enough for the boy too,” she says, holding up the bags.
I grudgingly let her inside. J looks between the two of us again.
“Do you have anything you want me to do upstairs while you two…?” He gestures between us.
“There are boxes and tape upstairs. Can you start taking out all my parents' clothes and boxing them up for me?”
“Anything you don’t want me to touch?”
“No,” I say, and J disappears upstairs.
“I heard,” Shelly says when he leaves. “About the Oracle wanting to make you a conduit.”
“Jaxson tell you that?”
“No. Another Sovereign told me. I was going to call you anyway to see if you were okay. But then Jaxson told me that you were back in town and to keep an eye on you, so…”
I sigh. Of course, she knows. There’s no better grapevine than the one in a religious anything, cult or otherwise.
“How do you feel about it?”
“I feel no way about it,” I lie .
“But the Oracle is essentially going to be your husband.”
“Not if I don’t agree to it.”
“You don’t refuse the Oracle,” Shelly says gently.
“I can. I’m not a Sovereign yet. Apparently, you have to do this thing called taking a rite,” I remind her, because while I just found out about that, Shelly has certainly gone through with it.
“Even then. He’s decided he wants you. He’s going to have you if it’s the will of the Supreme Force,” Shelly says.
There’s no point in arguing with Shelly. She’s drunk the Sovereignty Kool-Aid already. In her mind, there’s no escaping the Sovereignty once you’re in their clutches. Not easily, anyway. Because once you take the fucking red pill and unplug from the Matrix, you can never go back to what you knew before. The Supreme Force, their God, won’t allow it.
Really, the reason it’s so hard to leave cults is that they generally force you to sever all ties to any community outside of them, so by the time you want to leave, you have no one to turn to. You’re completely isolated. And if you don’t mind losing the only community you have, they use scare tactics to make you stay, and get the well-meaning people who claim to care about you to use them. My dad’s favorite way to try to scare me, for instance, was that God would kill me if I left Loving Eden and ran from my destiny as His servant. Ironic that I outlived him.
The best cults do all this without ever putting you in a prison. Without ever locking you in a room. The isolation, the fear, the danger of leaving is all in your head. Physically capturing someone or sending them somewhere to force reform is a last desperate act—one that I thankfully escaped before my parents could enact it.
“Then he’ll have to come out of that big house in Chicago and come get me,” I declare.
It ends the conversation with Shelly but reminds me that the Sovereignty probably isn’t above coming down here, kidnapping me, and forcing me to be with their Oracle. If anything, his father has proven he’s willing to cross lines to get what he wants. He knew about Jaxson and me and decided he was going to take me from him anyway, knowing Jaxson couldn’t fight him. Hell, it’s the same thing Jaxson did to me until I finally realized that we are really two peas in a pod and no amount of me resisting him was going to change that. Jaxson probably learned those tactics from his father.
Fuck.
Shelly is right in a way. It’s not my destiny, and it has nothing to do with the Supreme Force.
But as long as Jaxson’s father wants me and Jaxson isn’t willing to risk his position as possible Oracle heir to stop him, there’s no corner remote enough on the planet for me to escape.