Chapter 13
Nick
The voice sends a chill through me that seeps into my spine, making everything inside of me freeze. Even my heart stops for a second before beginning, beating double-time to try and catch back up.
I stuff my cock back into my pants and pocket her panties, squinting through the holes in the panel that separates this booth from the next, trying to see if there's anyone in there.
"Who's there?" I growl, annoyed at the thought of some little perv on the other side listening to me jerk off.
"You don't like having an audience?"
The voice is low, like they're whispering on purpose, and also somehow familiar.
I slam my palm against the divider, hoping to startle them into leaving. I don't want to start a fight with someone on Christmas Eve in my father's church. He'd beat the shit out of me if I caused any friction tonight. This is the biggest of the year for our church.
"No, I don't, you little freak!" I grit, wiping my palm against the panties in my pocket, clearing away any signs of my indiscretion.
"You only like your best friends watching?" Someone scoffs. "Is that it? You only want an audience when you want other people to see what a big, bad man you are?"
"What the fuck?"
"You play at both sides, Nick. One minute you're trying to convince everyone you're a good church boy, the pastor's perfect son. The next minute, you're trying to convince your friends you're a big, strong man, that you're in control and have all the power."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Does it make you feel better to take power from innocent girls? Does it help make you feel less like the little kid who had to do everything his daddy told him to?"
It's like all the air is sucked out of the room at once, leaving me in a vacuum. I don't even try to breathe, suspended in motion as I process the words that just fell around me.
"What?"
"Raping women. Is that how you heal your inner child, or is it just a hobby?"
My brain is having a hard time catching up to my reality, which is that I'm in a fucking confessional with someone across from me making accusations they shouldn't know anything about.
"I don't do that." I say, my voice cold and hard in an attempt to shut off all further conversation. "I've never…"
"If you have to drug them, they weren't willing. And you've done that more than once, haven't you?"
My mind is playing tricks on me; that's it. This isn't real.
"No." I technically haven't ever drugged anyone. If I'm out with a girl and she drinks too much, that's not my fault. And if Cole or Brant slip something in her drink to make her a little more compliant, it's not me being a predator.
I'm simply an opportunist.
"I don't know who you are or what your play is here, but you're wrong. I'm not a fucking rapist."
I throw open the door to the confessional and stalk away from it, needing the space to cool off before I do something that is going to get me in trouble. I really can't afford any extra eyes on me right now, with everything going on with Nikki.
But the voice follows me.
"Running away, Nick? Really? You seemed so annoyed when Cole did it to you."
The words are enough to stop me in my tracks, and I wheel around, ready to lay out whoever the fuck has the audacity to talk to me like this. But there's no one there.
The church is empty, Christmas music still playing in the empty nave, multi-colored lights glowing softly against gleaming and polished wood. I scan the pews, looking for anywhere that someone might have run off to try and hide like a little bitch. But there's no one.
I close my eyes and press my fingers against my temples, focusing on the throbbing in my veins as I try to gather myself. I'm hallucinating from the stress of the last twenty-four hours.
When I open my eyes, I jump back, surprised by the person inches from my face... so close I can't make out any of their features.
A chill passes down my spine, a sense of foreboding running through my bloodstream like ice as I scramble backwards, knocking over one of the larger, real poinsettias set up on the stage.
The figure moves just as quickly as I do, stalking me the whole way, until it's over top of me as I reach around for anything to use in my own defense. My fingers close around one of the pots for the flowers; I adjust my grip on it, bringing it down on the psychopath on top of me.
A heavy blow straight to the chest makes me suck in a breath full of soil as chunks of the pottery rain down on me and the plant falls to the ground, rolling away from me. All I can do is stare, unable to catch my breath as my mind tries to process what the hell just happened.
"Hey, Nick." Nikki smirks, leaning back to get a better look at me, coughing around the bits of soil I inhaled in my attempt to bash her over the head with the poinsettia.
She looks entirely unaffected by my attempt to knock her out with a potted plant; in fact, she looks entirely unaffected by everything that happened last night.
She looks... alive.
"What the fuck?" I shake my head like that will clear the apparition in front me, but her smirk only deepens a little.
"You don't look happy to see me." She says, running a hand between my thighs and making me jump, prepared to launch her off of me and run the other way. Instead, she just slips through my hands like moonlight, like she's not even there at all.
When I scramble to my feet, she's watching me, and that smirk has softened a little, looking like more of a smile.
"What are you?" I demand., despite the fact that she's obviously a fucking demon. There's no other explanation for it.
I killed her myself.
I smashed her head in with her boyfriend's last gift to her and dragged her body into the woods.
I shoved her in the lake.
No way did she pull herself out of there.
"I'm an angel." She says, gesturing to the long white dress skimming the floor.
When I only stare at her, she sighs, and I blink, questioning my sanity when two large wings sprout from behind her, making her look every bit the image of the angels we grew up hearing about.
"You can't be..."
"Well, I died." She laughs. "You know that. You made it happen..."
In this moment, all of my years of Bible study are failing me. I've spent years actively rejecting everything my father pretends to stand for and trying to block out all of the religious indoctrination. I can't remember if angels can be made or if they simply are.
Either way, she's standing before me, a pale and beautiful vision, light and... glistening.
"I'm sorry." I tell her, reaching out a hand to try and feel her, needing to feel something tangible beneath my fingertips so that I know this isn't just the byproduct of a bad dream. "I didn't mean for that to happen..."
"It's okay." She says, stepping forward, like she's giving me permission.
She doesn't dissolve beneath my touch; she stays steady, watching me as I trail my fingers over her face, struggling through the shock to believe that this is real... that she's here.
"I'm here to forgive you."
My eyes snap to hers, seeking confirmation that I didn't just imagine those words. "You do?"
"Of course." She nods. "You didn't mean to hurt me, right?"
"No." I tell her, letting go of all of the grief I've been holding onto. "No, I'd never hurt you, snow angel."
She closes her eyes, sinking into my touch as I try to reconcile what the hell is happening. "Am I dead? Is that why I can see you?"
"No." She laughs. "You can see me because I want you to see me."
"Fuck, Nikki," I choke on my relief, the forgiveness in her eyes as she watches me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to die. I just wanted—"
I break off, swallowing the rest of my words.
I just wanted to be inside of you.
I just wanted you to know I love you.
I just wanted you to see that you chose the wrong guy.
I just wanted to have a little fun.
"What?" She prompts me, tipping her head slightly, so that her light blonde hair dips lower, brushing against the tops of her breasts and drawing my attention to the vivid blue bruises on her throat.
I blink, trying to adjust the view of her before me. But even as I do, she melts away right in front of me, becoming something... ghastly.
"Nick?"
Blood drips from her lips, but that's not the source of it. It's pouring down her face, cutting paths down her cheeks from a gash on her forehead.
Stumbling backward, I try to put some distance between us, not sure what the fuck is going on.
"Nick?" She advances toward me, her hands reaching out like she's begging for me to grab hold of them, to pull her to me and save her.
But I can't save her; it's too late.
I killed her.
Blood cascades down her face and drips onto her dress, but she doesn't go down or stop moving.
For a minute, it feels like she's a zombie, chasing after me like it's the only thought in her head keeping her moving forward.
It's a fucking horror movie.
The conversation from last night drifts through the air.
"You never say I'll be back..." Cole had said.
"In a horror movie. We're not in a horror movie."
"As far as you know."
"Nikki..." I raise a hand between us, trying to keep her from getting too close in case she decides to eat my brains or something. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know." She says. "But I'm so cold, Nick. Can you warm me up? It's freezing where you left me."
I jump off the step, skirting her as she moves toward me, possessed.
Water joins the blood pouring over her, creating a pool of it that spreads around her feet and outwards.
The wood floor is unsteady beneath me as the mixture dribbles beneath my shoes, taking me to my hands and knees as I slip in it.
"Nick?" She asks, descending overtop of me. "I'm scared. I think I'm dying..."
A sob breaks loose from somewhere inside of me as she gets next to my face, her cold fingers slipping beneath my chin and turning me to face her. "I think I want to go home now."
"Stop." I beg her, shaking my head, trying to convince her to back off.
"Nick..." She groans. "I don't feel so good."
"Nikki..." I whimper, putting my hands to my ears to try and block out her words.
It does nothing, though, because her words are in my head.
"Nick, stop..."
"I want to go home..."
"Hurts."
"Stop!" I yell, loud enough to shut out all the voices.
And it works...
A silence falls around us that not even the Christmas music pierces.
I open my eyes slowly, but she's not there. The church is empty, and it gives me the courage to pull my hands away from my ears slowly.
There's no water, no blood, no Nikki.
I'm alone...
A quick glance around confirms as much, so I stand, swallowing my pride.
I'm losing my fucking mind, and I need this to be over. After mass, I'm going to pop two of my dad's sleeping pills and hopefully not wake up until dinner is ready tomorrow. I need to be put into a fucking coma after this, to let me recover.
The cord wraps around my throat so quickly I don't even get a chance to try and pull it away before the tug drags my feet out from beneath me again, sending me crashing to the floor.
I try to grab at the ground, try to grab hold of anything that I can, but the cord around my neck is thick, little bulbs poking into me at odd intervals, and as it tightens, the church around me fades away, the lights blurring together and swirling before dimming, and then going out entirely.