Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I stood by the stove, glaring at the stairway as I waited for my eggs to fry. My uncle’s kitchen was small but useful even with some of the gadgets gone. And Emery had stocked the cupboards and fridge with my food from the apartment so there was no use traveling upstairs to cook.
He didn’t lock me up in the room again after letting me out. A small silver lining all things considered.
I learned very quickly the reason why he didn’t. He wasn’t worried I’d get out somehow because there was no way out. I checked the sliding door by the kitchen and found he’d sealed the lock shut, the glass already covered by thin boards. Even if I could somehow manage to break the glass through them, he’d hear it in a heartbeat.
Then there was the cellar door. I only had a small hope that he might have forgotten about it. My heart skipped a beat when I tried it and found it open. The cellar was really just the older, unfinished side of the basement, where a few unimportant things or not so valuable stuff had been stored along with the washer and dryer. There was a separate stair from there that led to the outside, an old entrance from back when the house was first made and hadn’t yet been renovated and expanded. Only my rising excitement sank when I found the door at the top of the stairs to be locked from the inside with a padlock. I thought about taking a hammer to it, but expected Emery would hear that too. Still, the idea lingered in my head with the possibility. Maybe something else to pry it open…or a saw to cut the lock apart.
Too bad the tools were in the garage where I suspected Emery to also be, judging by the sounds from above. Creating more traps, I assumed. More ways to slow down those who might try to rescue me.
When I had no other way but the stairs up to the house, I got the courage to creep up the steps. As I got to the landing, I opened the door, realizing a crate of junk was blocking the entrance, grounding against the floor, making a groaning sound. The garage door was wide open only a few feet away. Emery walked into view and saw me. He paused to watch me, a drill in his hand.
We froze like two animals meeting in the wild, waiting to see which one would move first. Then I promptly closed the door and went downstairs.
I flipped my eggs as I heard a door open and shut above. After my failure to find a way out—and knowing now I wouldn’t find one upstairs without him catching me—I set my frustrations on cooking. I was starving, the bars not keeping me full for very long, so I opened the cupboards, sifting around for pans and slamming them down on the stove. If he came down to stop me, I’d scream in his face again.
I lowered the gas, then took out some bread and popped it in the toaster. I took out the single tomato in the fridge and set it on the counter, then searched the drawers for utensils.
The second I opened one drawer and saw the small cutting knife inside, I froze. I took it out, gripping it firmly.
The thought of hiding it came to me instantly. But the thought after—the one where I take a chance to drive it into Emery’s chest or neck when he wasn’t looking—made me feel sick.
Moving over to the counter, I began to cut the tomato into slices, trying to ignore my shaking hands. I turned my thoughts instead to our last conversation. The memory of his eyes when I had pushed back, basically telling him he was a nut job, was like driving a dagger in him with my words. There was guilt, but only a little. He had to know. I was done with him using his ghosts as a reason to hurt me. His past and mine were very different and yet we both had inner scars that needed healing.
Him finding out about the necklace was shitty timing for sure. That he even had to make that discovery was a laughable coincidence. I cursed whatever god was toying with us. But mostly I cursed my brother for giving it to me. Snatching a precious gift like that from a child to give to his sister? How did I never see how big of an asshole he was?
Maybe I had refused to see it. Just like I refused to see how arrogant and entitled and, honestly, cold my father could be.
And now I was paying my father’s price.
Guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Come tomorrow…it won’t matter.
Those words filled me with dread.
I hadn’t thought much about my birthday or about the anniversary of the Harper Pointe massacre. About the eve of Halloween. I’d been so occupied with getting hunted and kidnapped by a madman, about being locked away and stalked by him, that it had slipped my mind.
Tomorrow, he was going to act.
But I wasn’t going to let it end the way he wanted. I wasn’t going to let him win that easily.
I tried to take hold of my emotions, my anger, fear, and sadness and become numb again. I pushed those thoughts away.
Instead, I considered the necklace again. I should just let it go but something in me was suddenly driven to find it. To have it for tomorrow. To prove I hadn’t thrown it out. That it had just been hidden away, put somewhere safe so it couldn’t be broken. A place with other childish but special things that I told myself I’d take back someday. Part treasure, part time capsule.
But I’d need to go upstairs to get it and I doubted Emery would let me out of this basement, let alone to the top floor.
As I pondered over other options, something brushed along my hair. Before I could move my hand up to investigate, that same something scuttled quickly over my forehead and across my face.
A huge fucking spider.
I shrieked as it came into view, my hands jerking in response. I felt searing pain slice through my fingers as the knife cut along them. Deep…real deep.
I swept my hand over my face and the spider dropped onto the counter. The thing was the size of my palm at least. I screamed as it flew across the counter, at first back at me, then away into the open drawer.
Emery rushed down the stairs. My heart caught in my throat as I threw the knife in the sink and shut the drawer where the spider had dropped. I turned on the water and shoved my hand under it, blood swirling down the drain.
“What happened?” Emery asked behind me. I was caught off guard by the actual concern in his voice.
“Nothing.”
“I heard you scream,” he said. His shadow cast over me as he looked over my shoulder. He didn’t make any comment about the knife. Instead, he turned away and slipped into my uncle’s room. He came back out a moment later with the first aid bag and set it on the table, taking out the antiseptic, wash cloth, and bandages.
“I can do it,” I said without looking at him.
“I know,” he replied. He came to stand beside me by the sink with antiseptic and cloth in hand. He poured some on the cloth, then set the bottle aside.
I didn’t protest as he took my hand and wiped away the blood, then cleaned the cuts. I winced as it stung.
He seemed more aware when handling me, unlike when he had pulled out the glass. More than ever, I badly wanted to take that mask off and see his true face.
If only we could get past this pain.
I licked my lips and swallowed, thinking how warm his large hand was cupping mine. “It doesn’t need stitches, does it?”
He examined my hand, carefully pressing his fingers to mine, unbending them. “No,” he said softly. He took a couple Band-Aids and wrapped my index and ring finger. “But they might scar,” he added. His thumb brushed along my hand.
My hand tingled from his touch. When he had been enraged, I was too scared to notice, but now, with this touch it reminded me of the same one from my half-sleep state. Gentle…loving.
He was there again, just on the surface. My Emery.
He wanted me. I could see it in his gaze, I could feel it in his touch. The tension was there, thick and electrifying.
If he took me now, I might not stop him.
My body burned at the thought. The dreams, the terrors. He was making me lose my mind.
His body moved closer. All I had to do was close the distance, all I had to do was fall off the edge and into that dark water where, beyond the monster, a king awaited.
I wanted to believe it was that simple. Just let go. Just give in. I tilted my head back and our eyes locked and he stood there, so still. Hardly breathing. Waiting.
Tomorrow…tomorrow…
Tomorrow…it won’t matter.
My heart crawled into my throat. Tomorrow, he’s going to hurt you again , said a little voice. The anniversary of your escape will be the day of your death. He will end it. His ghosts will win and he will finish what he started.
I blinked, unable to keep my emotions at bay. I turned my gaze down and took back my hand, stepping away.
He reached into the sink. My pulse quickened and my body tensed when he picked up the knife, then washed off the blood.
I assumed he’d take the knife away. Instead, I was surprised when he moved to return it to the drawer. As he went to open it, I put out a hand.
“Wait! Don’t do that!”
He stilled, his hand gripping the handle.
I almost wanted to laugh when I said, “There’s a really big spider in there.”
He looked down at the drawer, then back at me. “Is that what got such an impressive scream out of you?”
I nodded, smirking with embarrassment.
“Never thought I’d be competing with a spider,” he said almost more to himself than me. “Best to squash the competition.” He set the knife on the counter and cracked the drawer open. He reached inside and, with shockingly cool patience, he caught the spider, enclosing it in his palm. As he brought it out, I could see he was about to crush it, but I stopped him.
“Don’t kill it,” I said.
He gave me a curious look but did as I asked, holding the spider carefully in his hand. “You want to save it?” he asked.
“Yeah, I want to save it. I usually don’t like to kill them if I can help it, even if they freak me out.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“I feel sorry for them, you know?”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“It’s not their fault they’re so creepy.” I saw the spider’s little leg pop out from between Emery’s fingers, trying to find a way out. I frowned, trying not to shiver. “They’re scared too.”
He stilled as he held the spider before me. I thought I caught his hand trembling. Something in his manner changed. When I dared to catch his gaze, his eyes were bright, almost glowing. “I guess we should find a new home for it, huh?” he said softly.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll take him outside.” Emery started to move for the stairs, but I got in his way.
“Maybe…we let him roam upstairs. It’s too cold now.”
He didn’t seem annoyed by this idea, merely contemplative. “Alright. The garage then?”
I thought it over. Another idea wiggled into my brain, like someone unseen slipping a note under a door. “How about the attic?”
He nodded slowly. He started up the stairs and my heart flipped a little as I went to follow. He paused halfway when he noticed I was behind him.
I pursed my lips together. “Can I come too?” I felt like a silly child asking, but still I said, “I haven’t seen this place in so long. I guess…it would be nice to see it if only for…”
He glanced at me and I could see he was thinking it over, or rather having a private conversation in his head. I waited, expecting his refusal, then was surprised when he nodded.
“Alright.” He mumbled something but I didn’t quite catch it.
As I followed him, I imagined how the conversation with his ghosts must have gone. Him trying to convince them that it was just one time. That it didn’t matter because come tomorrow, it wouldn’t. Let me have this one slice of freedom, to look into the past before I couldn’t.
He pushed open the door and sauntered out. Cautiously, I stepped on to the landing and into the hallway between the garage and the kitchen. I couldn’t help pausing and looking over where the garage door was still wide open. Inside, I saw the truck. Beside it, on the ground, I noticed a gas can and a hose connected to the tank.
“You coming?” he said behind me.
I flinched and turned away. “Yeah.”
I didn’t let myself think about what he was doing as I continued to follow him over to the stairs leading to the second floor. I took in the house, still so dark despite the daylight as most of the windows were boarded up. Still, I could see some things in the dimness, the furniture left behind, like the dining table, the couches in the living room, chairs and a mirror. As we passed by, I almost paused again when I saw Dad’s old gin cabinet still sitting there in the dark. My hand tightened on the stair rail, telling myself to breathe as we climbed up in silence.
The second floor was as bare as the first. We slipped by my brother's room and I didn’t dare look inside, not wanting to see the emptiness.
I wasn’t surprised that Emery knew how to get to the attic; he must have scoured every corner of the house. He went for the guestroom on the left. I should have hurried to catch up but instead found myself lagging behind, my steps slowing the closer I got to my old bedroom.
I couldn’t help looking in this time. My feet refused to move as I stood in front of the doorway. My bed was still there with the empty cabinet opposite. My desk was still by the window, now bare. The full-length mirror to one side had started to collect dust and I could still see the outline of where my posters had once hung. Uncle Wes and I had rushed to get everything that mattered out of the house.
I heard the smallest creak of wood and turned my head to see Emery watching me by the guestroom door. I tore myself away from the doorway and met him at the guestroom.
Inside, it was brighter than the other rooms, and that was because the board covering the window didn’t fit the full length, leaving a small space to look outside.
I stepped over to the window and was glad that Emery didn’t stop me. I looked at the backyard, at the browning grass and piles of leaves. I could see the gravel path that went around the house and led down across the yard to a small empty fountain, then passed that, down to the river. There I saw the dock and the boathouse next to it. My dad’s boat was tucked away inside. The wide river looked darker than I remembered, a deep bluish green.
I felt Emery’s presence behind me, looking out too. I tried to ignore the heat of him at my back as my eyes scanned over to one side, seeing the woods.
The only boat was out closer to the Canadian side. Just a fisherman’s yacht. I was sure all they could see from their end was a dark, unoccupied house if they even bothered to look this way.
I turned away from the window and started for the door that was hidden behind the one to the room, a narrow door that led up to the attic. I opened it and looked into a pitch-black stairwell. I looked back at Emery with suspicion and was surprised to see him still at the window. He looked tense. He moved like a predator as he side-stepped into the shadows, keeping his body from the light while still peering out. His hand, still holding the spider, looked like it was about to clench into a fist and crush it without realizing.
I went to open my mouth, to tell him to be careful not to kill the spider, when I heard them.
Shouts coming from the back.
My heart flipped as I stiffened. Slowly, I came over to the window, then flinched again when Emery put out his arm, warning me to not get any closer lest I be seen.
Two men, a little older than me, appeared. A pair of kayakers. They passed the dock and turned onto the small shore at the end of the yard. It was surprising to see kayakers out this late in the season. Instead of wet suits or bathing suits, they wore sweaters and jeans, one wearing an orange beanie over his head, the other a black. They got their boots wet as they got out and dragged their kayaks to the shore, setting them on the grass.
I glanced at Emery whose vision was focused on the men below. I could only wonder what he was thinking. I gazed back at the men who now stood close to the shore, looking up at the house, one saying something to the other but the words muffled. My throat tightened as my anxiety rose. If I got closer to the window, if I just bashed my hands along the part of the glass that was visible and screamed, they might look up in time and maybe see…
I didn’t move. I stood by Emery and watched them for a solid minute as they talked. One pulled out his phone and took a picture.
The story of this place had gotten around and now people were coming to visit. The house of death.
If they got it in their heads to get any closer, even to try and get inside, I didn’t want to know what Emery would do to them.
I knew he was thinking it. I knew the lengths he would go to protect what he kept hidden. He would do whatever it took to keep me here with him without hesitation.
“Let me take the spider up,” I said softly. “I’ll just put it in a corner somewhere.”
Emery barely peeled his eyes away, just long enough to hand me the spider. I shoved my fear down as I encased it in my hand.
Don’t freak out, don’t freak out.
I took deep, slow breaths, trying to ignore the feel of the thing attempting to move in my hand.
I took this chance to carefully step back and creep my way up the stairs. I kept my free hand steady on the rail as I made my way up into the dark attic.
There was a dim light coming from the arched window above, making the shadows seem deeper than ever. Boxes and stacks of old medical magazines and books took up most of the space. We hadn’t had time to finish clearing the attic so most of it was junk left behind.
Quickly, I stepped into a dark corner and opened my hand, letting the spider scuttle away and disappear. The spider would probably end up back down again, but that didn’t matter right now. I just needed an excuse to come upstairs.
Assuming I had limited time, I went around a set of boxes and over to a little nook to one side with two shelves pressed together. I looked back to make sure Emery wasn’t coming up the steps, then I bent down and reached through the lower shelf. The shelf hid a part of the wall where a hole exposed the narrow space between inner and outer wall. I reached inside, blindly searching, trying to listen for movement on the stairs.
When my hand touched on something solid, I grabbed what I knew was a small wooden box and took it out.
It wasn’t just any box, but a puzzle box given to me by my brother on my eighth birthday. I had to press on certain parts of the lid at the same time to get it to partially open. Then I had to slide another piece into place to get the lid to open fully. I did this, my heart jumping a little when I thought I heard a sound from below along with the wind howling through the side.
The lid popped open and I saw the necklace lying within, the same way I had placed it the day I put it inside.
Emery’s necklace.
The little heart with the E in the middle could just barely be seen, the little blue and pink beads the same as I remembered.
I picked it up, bringing it closer, rubbing my thumb along the E. When my brother had given it to me, I thought he had made it for me.
My eyes stung a little just staring at it, enraged that my brother could lie to my face like that. How he could be just like our father. My hand tightened around it just like Emery’s would.
“ Eve .”
The whisper behind me was so soft, but in the quiet, it was piercing loud. For a second, I thought it sounded just like my brother’s voice.
I shoved the necklace down my shirt and into my bra before I stood and whirled around. I expected to see my brother’s ghost. Instead, I saw Emery standing by the edge of the stair.
How he got up without me even noticing was one more reason why I feared he wasn’t totally human.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I swallowed hard. “Just letting the spider free.”
Emery’s eyes fell over me, seeing there was nothing in my hands.
“The men left,” he said.
“Oh…” I didn’t know what else to say. Not sure if that was a good thing or not.
He waited as if expecting me to say more. Then he said, “We should go down. Don’t know if they’ll come back. I need to…” He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to. I could already guess he was pissed at himself for not considering trapping the back somehow, or compromising the dock in some way in case others came around from the river. He was definitely thinking it now. Didn’t want anyone upsetting his plans.
I nodded, but I had plans of my own.
I followed him, thankful he hadn’t noticed the box, clearly still thinking about the men and other intruders. Too focused on them to realize what I had snuck away.
When we got down to the first floor and around back to the basement stairs, he went straight for the garage, expecting me to go back down to the basement. As he went for one of the cabinets on the back wall, I took the moment to peer in.
On the workman’s table I saw tools sprawled out. I saw bleach and other chemicals and wires and an extra car battery. Then I saw the lighter fluid, pieces of ripped cloth, lint, Dad’s hidden vodka bottle.
And a box of matches.
When Emery noticed me staring, he froze. He closed the cabinet and straightened.
“Downstairs, Eve,” he ordered.
I wanted to protest. Yet, I found I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think straight, my head swimming. I felt myself turning for the door at his request, my heart slowly sinking to my stomach.