34. Hellscapes
Hellscapes
I stare up at the tall tree in our grove, wisps of white lace dancing in the wind.
The bodice of my wedding dress hugs my chest a bit too tightly, or perhaps it’s not the dress at all.
Something is off, altered, but I’m so twisted with excited energy that I don’t pay it too much attention.
I’ve been waiting here for hours. My bouquet is gripped too tightly in my palms. I gasp, but the sound is sluggish, my head snapping to ensure I hadn’t damaged it.
Where I’d seen white roses moments ago are the bold, reverently laid flowers of a funeral arrangement.
A shocked sound leaves my throat as I drop the bouquet, watching as the petals wither at my feet.
“You’re going to need that dork.”
Gideon bends, picking it up with the internal grace and hard-wired confidence that has always come so naturally to him.
He’s shorter, but no, that’s not right either.
The child version of Gideon has his striped sweater in place of where his suit should be.
Today is our big day, right? A harsh gust of wind rustles his black mop of hair as he stares at me…
always that stare, boring through me as if I’m both the center of the universe and not there at all.
I don’t take the flowers back; they’re dead anyway.
But he keeps holding them out, waiting. Something creaks above my head, but he speaks again.
“Puppet.” The lighter, kid version of his voice pollutes the word like bleach in bathwater.
I take a step back, away from Gideon, when the ground beneath my feet buckles, sending me down.
My dress slips, and suddenly I’m smaller too.
My grown, heat-damaged blonde waves traded for silky ringlet curls.
I yelp, grasping the oversized dress to my small body, the garment so large I’m drowning in it.
I’m little again and Gideon isn’t offering me flowers anymore.
A smile lights my face at the sight of Krissy as I take her from him, dutifully keeping a hand on the dress so it doesn’t slip.
“Thanks, Gideon,” I whisper because Dad is watching, and I shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of a boy, much less my best friend.
Gideon's parents are here too, for the wedding, of course.
Another gust of wind and another loud, aching creak finally forces my head up.
My gut twisting in horror, the scraps of lace are gone, and it's… women. Each one bloodied, nude, and strung up, swaying in the wind like the wisps of lace. I stumble to my feet as I watch a bead of blood gather at a woman’s fingertip, dripping down down down until it splatters onto my arm.
Tears fill my eyes as I backtrack, tripping over my dress and landing hard on my butt, Krissy falling into my lap.
“Gideon, what—"
“Are you scared, Audrey?” he asks, but his voice is all wrong again, and I can’t stop the sobs from leaving my throat because my best friend is gone and a strange man has taken his place.
His suit pressed like his dad’s, but it's not for a wedding either. I don’t complain as the strange new Gideon gathers me in my too-big dress, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Answer me,” he demands.
But I can’t because the women… oh god, it's horrible. I flinch as another droplet of blood hits my face.
Then I scream.
I jolt awake with a lump lodged deep in my throat, my head snapping above me only to find the popcorn ceiling of my bedroom. It takes several hefty seconds for me to calm my breathing, and for once I’m glad to have woken without Gideon by my side. A quick glance at the clock tells me exactly why.
“Shit,” I curse, rushing from the bed to my closet to toss on some work clothes. I’m scrambling, barely taking the time to properly brush my teeth, and peeing will have to wait. “Of all days to let me sleep in!” I hiss.
I know it was on purpose; that’s why even late I take the time to stomp across the street, tossing my long hair into a messy knotted bun that’ll have to do.
Barely breathing, I shove the front doors open of Bell Funeral Home and barge into the office.
Gideon’s shifting through paperwork, his glasses low on his stupid, handsome face. “Gideon Bell!”
He looks up, as if he didn’t know I was here by the stomping and slamming. “Morning, puppet.”
“You asshole!” I throw the sleep top I hadn’t realized I’d crossed the road with at his face. Half amused when he lets it hit him.
“I told you, Audrey,” he starts, gathering it off his face. “There’s no reason for you to attend the wedding. Everything is—"
“It’s my job. Mrs. Johnson can’t handle an entire wedding party herself!”
The teasing note in his voice abruptly cuts off as he adjusts his glasses. “I don’t want you to go.”
I huff, putting my hands on my hips. Gideon has always been… Gideon. But lately, geez, it’s been worse than ever. Not that it doesn’t elate me to some degree, but I draw the line at him making me miss work to keep me home. “You’re coming too.”
“Not at first.”
“Ugh, Gideon, you can’t just—"
The high-backed brown leather chair rolls back as he stands, making me clamp my mouth shut.
The deep frown on his face oddly expressive.
“You don’t need to go anywhere, Audrey.” I watch as he nervously jerks at his suit jacket, shifting before seeming to decide on his next move.
It’s… unsettling. He all but whines as he reaches me, tugging me to his chest. “I can’t stand the thought of you without me. I need—"
“Don’t,” I warn him, jabbing his chest, my voice coming off a little shaky. “Don’t play that shit with me.”
I roll my eyes as his face goes back to its naturally blank state without the jarring, forced emotion. “It was worth a shot.”
The scary part is how real it looked.
Are you scared of me, Audrey? And the sound of creaking rope makes goosebumps break out over my skin.
“You’re insane,” I quip, burying my face to cover my discomfort.
“My words were true though. You should tell—"
“I’m going, Gideon.” I lift up, pressing a kiss to his cheek with a wink. “I’ll see you later, okay? Then you can have me all to yourself. But no more of this, ever. This wedding is important to me.”
His jaw clenches, but he presses a kiss to my lips in warning. “Be good, Audrey. I’ll see you later.”
I nod, taking my shirt back from his desk before I fully pull from his arms. Only halfway to the door when his voice finds me again, making me freeze. “I love you.”
For a second, I just stare. It’s not that I don’t know that; it’s just…
we don’t say it. Or at least Gideon doesn’t.
Doesn’t see what he feels as love, despite that obviously being what it is.
I stopped trying to decipher many weird things about him ages ago.
The smile that spreads on my face is so big it makes my cheeks ache.
“I love you too.” I know when he said it, it was for my benefit only; that doesn’t make me love it any less.
“You’ll be back at what time?” is his only response as he settles back at the desk. It does nothing to deter the flutterflies in my stomach or my smile.
“Three. It’ll give me time to get dressed and grab my wedding date.”
He stares at me for a moment before sighing, his fists clenching and unclenching. It’s that, not the performative emotion he uses on everyone else, that makes my heart lurch. He’s bothered.
Truly bothered for me to be separated from him.
More as the days go by, I notice him getting…
needier. More demanding, more… desperate, and I hate to admit I love it.
It’s intense, sure, but flattering as all hell.
I’m across the room and wrapping my arms around him before he can respond.
“I’m all yours, Gideon Bell,” I remind him, giving him another kiss before jogging back out the front door.
Gideon, Present Day, 1994
My breath fogs up the glass, making my brows furrow as I shift, allowing only a few more inches between me and the window.
I don’t need to check the clock again; it hasn’t changed in the past few seconds.
I do anyway, the long hand taunting me, 3:32.
My pulse ticks up and before I decide to, I’m back to pacing.
You’re late, puppet.
Scenarios flick through my head like a horror movie.
Audrey at the wedding; it hasn’t started yet, but the wedding party is there.
One of the groomsmen has something to say.
Nothing worse than a talkative corpse. They’ve been pre-gaming, as you do for all important moments in your life, a little alcohol to take the nerves away.
A little to forget you were unfaithful to your girlfriend at the bachelor party because that’s just what guys fucking do.
You felt bad, but you didn’t learn anything because here you are talking to a pretty blonde.
She’s sweet, polite, a people pleaser. She has a soft smile, and you have no idea you’re sealing your fate.
That you’ll die in a cheap tux because that pretty little blonde belongs to someone else.
She belongs to me.
There will be no slaps on the back, no boys will be boys or bro code, just you and a scalpel as I cut you, anus to the shriveled sack of shit you call a brain.