8
EMERSYN
By dinnertime, I dreaded sundown. It would be the first time being alone, truly alone, in a forest I was just getting to know.
I fed the fire and huddled in an armchair, staring into the flames.
The windows didn’t have curtains, and they yawned like black voids into a demonic landscape—hiding everything outside, but leaving me exposed.
Every creak of a board, or call of an animal, set my nerves on edge until I fought through the suffocating anxiety.
My imagination went wild as it came up with crazy scenarios, and threatened to reduce me into a puddle of fearful tears.
It was exhausting, but I couldn’t sleep.
Every time I drifted off, something would startle me awake.
I didn’t feel comfortable going back into my bedroom, convinced the minute I did, I’d hear things out here and make matters worse.
At some point, sleep finally claimed me, but my dreams were far from safe.
I shut the book I was reading and leaned my head against the window. The cold chill of late autumn frosted the glass as it attempted to enter the warm interior of the house. But I didn't feel the chill as my breath fogged the panes.
As the sun dipped below the trees, I tossed the book of French fables onto the window bench.
In the three years I’d been a resident of this place, I’d read nearly every single book in the surprisingly vast library.
Everything from the classics to the dictionary.
Because of that, I knew a bunch of useless facts.
I knew that in Japan a samurai’s sword was considered his soul, and that the word “mort” meant both death and fool, depending on the language.
I knew in Russian folklore, a house could walk on chicken legs, and that there are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on earth.
I knew that monks once bled themselves in order to observe God, and that Marie Antoinette’s last words were an apology for stepping on her executioner’s foot.
Reading that annoyed me because, girl, why are we apologizing to a man about to kill you?
I had worlds of information at my fingertips, and yet my own world was no larger than the modest house and surrounding gardens. Gardens I rarely ever ventured into for fear of the dark forest that surrounded it.
The door across the room unlatched and Vetticus sauntered in.
I hadn’t seen him in months. Thankfully, the games with Octavius had stopped after the man in the wolf mask had appeared, and while I couldn’t exactly remember all that the “games” entailed, I knew they weren’t good.
Vetticus jerked his head towards the door.
“Come on, I have a surprise for you.”
My surroundings dissolved until I was in an SUV as it drove through the woods.
We stopped in a clearing in front of a hunting cabin, its windows glowed softly in the dark.
Everyone piled out and one of the men took my arm and led me inside.
The cabin didn’t have any furniture except for a wooden table and two chairs.
A few lanterns glowed throughout the room, illuminating the inches of collected dust that sat heavy on every surface.
I sneezed as we walked in, disturbing clouds of it to glitter in the firelight.
Vetticus sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out his cell phone.
“Ah, they’re on their way,” he said.
A moment later, the rumble of a vehicle cut through the silence. Doors opened and shut. I looked toward the windows, but I could only make out the glow of headlights through the dirty glass. Vetticus stood up and smirked as he moved toward the door.
“Show time,” he winked.
The door shut behind him.
Shouts, screams—horrible sounds of pain and violence paralyzed me with fear.
When the door of the cabin opened again, I jumped as it slammed against the frame. Vetticus’ eyes were alight with fire, and blood covered his clothes. I hastily backed up, not wanting him to get close to me, but he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the door.
The scene that greeted me as we stepped out onto the front steps was a haze of violence.
The air was heavy with the smell of blood and the suffocating scent of dust and death.
Vetticus dragged me down the steps. I stumbled to regain my footing and as the dust cleared, I saw a man kneeling in the middle of the headlights. The man I thought I’d never see again.
“Emersyn…” His eyes went wide in disbelief.
I choked on my words, unable to speak.
Dad?
I woke up with a sob on my lips and drenched in sweat. The nightmare was a memory, which only made it worse.
“Do you need a countdown?”
The knife was at my face—my Dad’s broken expression was the only thing I could see through the red haze as blood dripped into my eyes and pain exploded in my head.
I choked on my breath and huddled in the chair, terrified to close my eyes again.
This one felt particularly real, and the fact that I was alone made the terror worse.
I spiraled, unable to think of anything else.
The darkness outside was trying to come in—the shadows crept across the walls—they reached for me.
“I’m sorry—I love you—”
“Dad,” I dissolved into sobs.
I couldn’t stop crying. Time passed—the morning stretched into the afternoon, but I barely noticed. I huddled on the floor in front of the fire, hyperventilating and watching the fire as it dulled to embers.
Vetticus was coming for me. Or maybe Albatron so he could finish me off—or worse Octavius—
The panic gripped me. What if they were outside right now? What if they came while Sacha was gone? I quickly spiraled, my lungs fought to breathe through the panic that crashed through my veins with no mercy.
Cole’s screams. The gunshot.
They all played like vicious reels in my head I couldn’t seem to turn off.
“Emy!” I whipped around at the sound of his voice, I stumbled. “Time for bed!”
“Dad?” I whispered.
And there he was, rounding the corner of the lake house kitchen, just like the night before everything changed. He looked exactly like I remembered, hard eyes that softened the moment they found me, and a small smile took over his features.
“Come on, Em, you need to brush your teeth,” he said.
I found myself nodding and when he threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, I completely broke apart. His smell—bergamot, whiskey and a little bit of campfire smoke mixed with mom’s vanilla perfume. I buried my face into his shirt and inhaled through my tears.
“Whoa, baby, what’s wrong?” He pulled me in closer and smoothed my riot of blond hair. He tried to pull me away enough to look at him, but I locked my arms around him and refused for even a minute to let go. When I finally let him pull me away, he held my face in both of his hands.
“You’re dead,” I whimpered. “This isn’t real.”
My Dad scoffed gently and smiled. “I’m right here, Emy.” His thumbs brushed my tears away. “Now, come on, Cole’s already in bed and he’s begging for a story.”
I walked into the bedroom Cole and I shared and there he was—my twin—sitting in bed, blond hair a tousled mess as usual. His face lit up when he saw me and my heart seized. I choked and my vision blurred with tears at seeing my brother—the part of my heart that was taken.
“Finally, Emy! Jeez, take forever. Dad said he’d read Little Red Riding Hood my way this time.”
I could only nod as we all settled into bed, Cole on one side, me on the other.
I settled against my Dad’s side as he opened the book.
I reached across him and grabbed Cole’s hand.
His nose crinkled in momentary sibling disgust that made a smile cut through my tears before he gave my fingers a squeeze and settled again.
The longing in my heart threatened to cut me in half with its intensity.
The rumble of my Dad’s voice vibrated against my cheek and tears leaked out, as the comfort of that moment surrounded me again.
I knew it was a dream and yet when the room started to shimmer and leak around the edges, I panicked.
“No—” I grabbed a hold of my Dad with everything I had. “No—no, don’t go—no!”
Their bodies bled through my fingers—I scrambled and reached for them, choking on a sob. It was no use, their faces dissolved back into the dark and I was alone again.
Reality bled back into focus and the grief threatened to bury me. My bones ached and my chest hurt as the memories viciously ripped my heart to shreds. If the longing for that memory didn’t kill me, the truth that I’d never get a moment like that again certainly would.
I couldn’t breathe.
I collapsed into myself on the wood floor and slowly drowned in heartbreak.