Chapter Six
Home
Darkness surrounds me, and all sound is muted in the void I’ve entered.
There’s nothing here. It’s just a smoke-filled room with a single door, a soft glow of orange light creeping beneath it.
Strangely, I feel calm and at ease, almost at home in this place.
There’s no one here to judge me or ask questions about what happened that night.
It’s just me, well, me and whatever’s beyond that door.
I take a step closer, the floor feeling uneven and jagged beneath my feet.
Something screeches on the other side of the door, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
I cover my ears as the claws of the unknown drag from the top to the bottom and disappear as fast as they came.
Beneath the door, there’s a break in the orange light as if something stands on the other side of it, waiting for something.
Waiting for me.
When I take a step back, my heel squishes in something warm and slippery.
I freeze, fighting and losing the urge to look down.
Beneath my heel is a melted face, the melted face of Maureen.
My mouth opens, but the room keeps my screams soundless.
I scan her mangled body, lifeless, burned, and lying on the slippery algae-covered rocks.
Twisted metal and crackling fire draw my eyes to the ceiling that was never there. Above me is the bridge, my car hanging by a branch. Water rushes around my ankles, and suddenly I’m in waist-deep water. I dig my feet between the rocks, trying to maintain my balance as the water rages downstream.
I glance at the door, mocking me in the corner. I’m not going to bother running for it; it’s locked, it’s always fucking locked.
Why? Why is the devil tormenting me with this repetitive nightmare?
The branch holding my car moans and cracks.
I dive underwater and try swimming away, but the water dries up.
I crawl to the door and fumble with its knob.
Locked as always. The walls glide closer and closer until I’m trapped in the center of the room, where they stop.
The branch holding my car snaps, and it plunges toward me.
I close my eyes and shriek right before it crushes me flat.
? ? ?
I wake up in a cold sweat, my t-shirt stuck to my sopping chest. The sun peeks between my drapes, brightening the space around me. The mirror across from me vibrates my reflection as my mom’s heavy footsteps slap down the hall. A soft knock rattles my door. “Tessa?”
“Yes?”
She tries to open my door, but it’s locked. Locking my bedroom door won’t keep the devil from getting to me, but it does give me a sense of security, no matter how false it may be.
“I made breakfast. Are you coming down?”
I gaze down at my soaking wet clothes and sheets. “Yeah, let me take a quick shower,” I yell.
Her footsteps grow quiet as she walks away and descends the stairs.
I’ve been home for just over two weeks, and my leg still hurts like a bitch when I step down.
The doctor said it’s because part of the muscle was damaged, and it will take time to fully heal.
Until then, I saunter from one room to the next like a decrepit old woman.
I peel off my soaked clothes and toss them in the hamper before dropping onto the toilet seat. My ability to maintain my independence despite my injury surprises my parents, but the last thing I wanted when I came home was my mom helping me in the shower.
My dad installed a grab bar just outside the shower for me to hold on to when I climb in and out. He wanted to put one on the shower wall too, but I found it unnecessary. I wipe quickly, flush the toilet, wash my hands and close the toilet lid, resting my towel on top.
The shower water shrieks on with a quick turn of my wrist, and steam fills the bathroom quickly.
One of the things I love about my parents’ house is that it’s enormous, so I get my own private bath.
Well, at least, now I do, now that my brother Jessie has moved out.
This was his room before it was mine. Before that, I used the bathroom down the hall.
I step under the pounding stream and let the warmth coat my aching neck.
Ever since I’ve been home, I’ve been plagued by aches and pains.
The doctors wanted to give me pain medication, but I refused.
I’ve seen too many family members become addicted to that shit and worse.
Besides, I deserve to feel this for however long it takes, even if it’s an eternity.
After my shower, I dry off, put on gym shorts and a half-tank, then hobble downstairs. My dad sits at the table beside my mom, giving me a disapproving glare. I peer down at my outfit. “What? I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes drift down to this month’s edition of Guns and Ammo.
The first time Jayce came to our house, my dad made a point of cleaning his Glock in plain view.
He never liked Jayce, and now he blames him for everything that has happened to me up until this point, but I think Jayce has received sufficient punishment.
The burn on his arm left deep, permanent scars.
He’ll never play football or any other sport requiring the use of his right arm again.
A plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast with jelly drops on the table in front of me as I sit down. “Want orange juice?” Mom asks, turning toward the fridge.
“Yes. Please.”
Dad glances at his plate and frowns—egg whites piled on a slice of wheat toast. His doctor says his cholesterol is bad and he needs to change his diet.
Mom’s all gung-ho about it, and he plays along, but I know he secretly swings by the local diner and grabs a special on his way to work a few mornings a week.
The doorbell echoes through the house, and we all stare at each other, no one wanting to leave the table and let their food get cold. Dad clears his throat and gestures with his head for me to get it. I roll my eyes and limp through the living room and swing the front door open.
I gasp at the sight of Jayce standing on my porch, his arm still wrapped in bandages. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
He drops his head and stares at his black Vans sneakers. “Wow, still mad, I guess.”
“Are you kidding me? Jayce, I thought I made it clear that I wanted nothing more to do with you.” I go to shut the door in his face, but he slaps his palm on it, pushing it back open. “Come on, Tessa, I really need to talk to you.”
I roll my eyes, push his arm off the door, step onto the porch and cross my arms. “About what?” My foot taps impatiently on the floor.
His eyes drift from my lips, down to my bare midsection, and stop at the gnarly, still-healing wound on my thigh. “Does it still hurt?”
“Are you dumb?” I uncross my arms and grab his bandaged arm. “Does this fucking hurt?”
He yelps and pulls away from me. “Ouch, Tessa! Yeah, that fucking hurts.”
“Good. Now stop asking dumb questions and get to the reason you’re ruining my Saturday.”
His foot scrapes against the porch as he averts his eyes from mine. “I want to talk about us.”
I rub the tension building in my forehead. “For fuck’s sake, Jayce, there is no us. We are done. Over. Kaput. Finished. Do I need to say it in another language or put it in writing?”
His eyes search mine for a glimmer of hope he’ll never find. “Tessa, we made a mistake. I said I was sorry.” He grabs my arm and strokes it softly with his thumb, a crooked smile curving on his lips. “You know we were always meant to be together.”
He thinks I’m stupid. This is what he does.
He pisses me off and tries to Rico Suave his way back into my good graces with smooth moves and even smoother words.
Not this time. This time is different. He not only cheated, but I have a demon who’s made it clear to me that I am his.
The thought of what it could do to me—to Jayce, raises the hair on the back of my neck.
I may not want to be with Jayce, but I don’t want him dragged to hell either.
A tremor builds inside me, and I cover my stomach with my palm, holding it steady.
I peel his fingers off me and turn away from him. “Goodbye, Jayce.”
His hand drops heavily on my shoulder as he spins me around and plants a forceful kiss on my lips. I shove him back hard against the porch railing, harder than I knew I had the strength to do. A sharp pain tears through my leg, objecting to my sudden movement.
The railing cracks, then snaps, and Jayce goes over the side of the porch, landing in the thorny rose bushes lining the front of our house.
“What the hell is going on out here?” My dad steps through the doorway. He places his hands firmly on his hips as Jayce staggers to his feet, his face bleeding from minuscule cuts.
“He was just leaving.” I step inside the house and return to the kitchen.
My mom glances across the table at me as I take my seat. “Everything, okay?”
Before I have a chance to respond, my dad enters the kitchen, his face red. “That idiot boyfriend of yours needs to pay for the railing.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I stab my cold eggs and fork them into my mouth. “And technically, I broke the railing.”
“You broke it?” He sits down and leans back in his seat, gawking at me. “I beg to differ; he’s the one who was on the ground covered in scratches from your mother’s rose bushes.”
My mom puts her hand on her chest. “My rose bushes.” She tosses her napkin on the table and stands. “He better not have damaged any of them, or I’m going to make him pay for them too.” She leaves the room, presumably to check on her prized flowers.
My dad swipes his face with his palm. “So, how’d you break it?”
“Jayce kissed me after I told him we were over, so I shoved him.”
A low throaty laugh comes from across the table before it turns into a full-on cackle.
“That’s my girl.” He takes a bite from his toast, chews it for a few seconds and spits it on his plate.
“Fuck this. Want to run to the hardware store with me?” He stands, scrapes his food into the garbage, and rests his plate in the sink.
“And by run to the store, I mean, get a real breakfast.”
I smile up at him. “Let me get changed, and we can go.”
He nods. “Don’t tell your mother.”
We exchange glances and broad smiles as my mom returns to the kitchen. “What are you two smiling about?”
“Nothing,” we say in unison.
I’m more like my dad than my mom in many ways. I firmly believe that cursing is an inherited trait my father passed down to me, along with my ability to defend myself when need be.
Mom glances at us both, lets out a heavy sigh, and says, “Fine, keep your secrets.”
Secrets.
I have so many now, and something tells me there will be many more once the demon rears his head again.