78. Noah
NOAH
OCTOBER FLASHBACK
Ilet myself soak in the scalding hot water for hours until it turned ice cold last night.
I felt numb. Not only was I still no closer to finding Willow, but I also didn’t satiate my demons.
The kill was over too fast, and I couldn’t even say it was by my own hands because the fucker impaled himself on my knife.
He took that from me. He didn’t suffer for what he did, not like he should have.
I didn’t sleep, only laid in bed staring at the ceiling, until I couldn’t sit still any longer.
I finally rolled out of bed shortly after noon.
My phone's been going off for hours. Jeremy, my dad, and a few clients have been texting me nonstop, but I couldn’t even muster up the energy to read their texts, let alone text them back. It’s Sunday. They can wait.
The sound of tires skidding on the gravel causes me to lift my head off the kitchen island. Glancing at the clock above the stove, I realize I’ve been sitting here for over an hour staring into the same cup of coffee I made when I first came downstairs.
“Goddamnit! You better not be dead, motherfucker!”
I can hear the sound of my cousin barreling through the front door cursing me as he comes inside.
“In here,” I yell before laying my head back down onto the countertop.
“What the fuck, Noah? Do you not understand how a fucking cell phone works? When it rings, you answer it. If it lets out that fucking annoying chirp sound, you pick it up and type a goddamn response,” he snaps as he walks around the other side of the island to stare at me.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?” he mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yeah.”
“Noah, what the fuck happened last night? You look like shit. It’s nearly two in the afternoon…”
“I know.”
“Why weren’t you answering your phone? Your father called me and cussed me out thinking I was with you.”
I glance around the kitchen searching for the damn phone, but I must have left it upstairs.
“I don’t know where it is. It might be upstairs,” I finally answer, only lifting my head to take a sip of the ice-cold coffee then returning my head to the counter.
“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy mutters before taking off out of the kitchen.
I can hear his steps as he stomps up to the third floor where my bedroom is.
“What the fuck?!” he screams, and that’s when I remember the current condition of my bedroom and bathroom.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.
“Noah. What the fuck is this?” he shouts down the steps, but I don’t bother answering.
He can clearly see what it is. My clothing is soaked in blood. My mirror is shattered from punching a fist through it. Glass is scattered around the bathroom, with smears of mine and Rayes’s blood along the counter and floor. It’s a bloodbath up there.
“Noah,” Jeremy says softly as he walks back into the kitchen.
I can smell the coppery tang of dried blood, so I can only assume he’s holding one of my blood-soaked clothes from last night. Stupid. I should’ve disposed of it like I always do. I should’ve disposed of the body.
“I got into a fight,” I say as I lift my head and glance at him, finding him holding my hoodie.
The hoodie is black, so the blood can hardly be seen soaked into the dark fabric, but I’m assuming he spotted the blood on the jeans or what seeped off the clothes and puddled onto the floor.
“A fight? With who?”
“A piece of shit who hurt his wife,” I respond calmly. It’s not a lie.
I pick up my coffee cup and walk to the sink then dump it down the drain before rinsing the cup. I pull open the dishwasher and place it on the top rack. When I close it and turn around, Jeremy is right there looking me over.
“Let me see your hand,” he says, holding out his.
I lift my left hand, but he shakes his head and gestures to my right hand. The one that is balled up and wrapped in a towel. I let out an exasperated sigh as I lift my hand to him. He drops the hoodie to the ground and quickly unwraps the towel.
“Noah…Jesus fucking Christ. What did you do?”
“Punched the mirror. Wasn’t it obvious?” I say with a small chuckle, but I can tell from the way he is looking at me that I’m not getting out of this one easily.
He’s let me live with my demons, never pressuring me to reveal them or the things I do to satiate them, but right now I can tell from the way he keeps looking from my eyes to my hand that might change.
“No, Noah. What did you do? This is more blood than just a fight. Did you…”
“Did I what, Remy?”
“Did you kill someone?”
Silence. That’s all I can give him.
If I don’t tell him, then he can never be considered an accomplice or be burdened with the truth of what I really am. He stares at me for a long time before looking back down at my clenched fist. Small shards of glass that are still embedded in my flesh can be seen as the light catches on them.
“Noah?”
“Jeremy, I’m only going to say this one time…Don’t ask me any more questions about last night.”
“But…” he starts, but I shake my head slowly as I pull my hand away.
“No, Jeremy. Not today. Not ever.”
He glances one last time at my hand before closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Fine. But can you at least answer one thing?” he asks as he looks at me.
I stare at him for a moment before nodding.
“Are you okay?”
“Honestly? Not really. But I will be,” I answer as truthfully as I can. I can at least give him that.
“Okay. Well, let’s get that glass out of your hand and get your room cleaned up.”
He picks up the blood-soaked hoodie, turns, and starts heading toward the front of the house to the staircase.
“You don’t have to help with the cleanup. I’ll deal with it later.”
He ignores me and continues up the steps.
“Jeremy…”
“Come on, Noah. Let’s get this shit done because you promised me dinner tonight.”
Oh yeah. I completely forgot about our conversation last night.
“Did you decide where we’re going?” I ask as I climb the last few steps into my bedroom.
He’s standing with his back to the bathroom and a pair of tweezers in his hand. I can see the mess from here. Dark red against the white tiles. The contrast is unmissable and undeniably blood.
He grabs my hand and, using the light from the skylight, begins to pull out the shards and drop them into the trash can he pulled over from the side of my bed.
“Well, I originally was thinking Italian, but I’m not feeling spaghetti and meatballs anymore. How about we just go to Texas Roadhouse? I think a dozen rolls sounds delicious right now.”
“How the fuck are you still skinny?” I ask, laughing as I push past him into the bathroom and grab the small broom and dustpan out of the linen closet in here.
“I go to the gym,” he says as he grabs my clothes and throws them into the bathtub.
He starts the water and lets the tub slightly fill up with cold water before shutting it off.
“When?”
“When I have time,” he snaps. “Now, do you have any salt, milk, or unsalted meat tenderizer? Any of those will work.”
“Unsalted…meat tenderizer?” I ask, confusion evident on my face.
“We all have our demons, Noah. I just know how to clean up after mine.”
He says it so nonchalantly. Maybe my cousin’s demons are like my own. Maybe we’re both fucked up. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“I have milk for sure, and salt.”
“Good. Go grab them both. We’ll try the milk first, and if that doesn’t work, we can try the salt.”
He takes the broom and dustpan from me and begins to sweep up the shards of glass, leaving me stunned. Anyone else would have prodded and demanded I tell them what happened. Hell, some might even threaten to call the cops with the amount of blood that is in this room…But not Jeremy.
As I make my way into the kitchen, I notice the trail of blood smears from the laundry room. I quickly grab a paper towel and some bleach and wipe up the floor.
Last night I dropped the mask just outside the secret panel which was still cracked open.
The white skull is now splattered with crimson.
I quickly open the panel and drop the mask onto the steps to take care of another day before making sure to clean up any traces of blood in the laundry room as well.
Maybe one day I can reveal my demons to him, but not today. No. I need to keep them buried…at least until I dispose of Rayes, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I promised my cousin we’d go out for dinner, so that’s what we’re going to do.
“Hey, do you have any more paper towel rolls down there? It’s kind of a bloodbath. Ha! Get it…bloodbath,” he shouts down the steps.
His laughter echoes around the empty house, and I can feel the tension in my chest starting to ease. Hopefully, my demons will be sated for a little while. Otherwise, Parker might not last much longer.