“It’ll be okay,” I assure her. “I’m not worried.”
None of this is real.
Except for the madness.
That I am worried about.
Will it be like a light switch? One minute I’m sane, the next I’m not?
The thought of losing my mind terrifies me more than some boogeyman.
When Mom falls asleep, I slowly slip out of the room.
A storm has rolled in and lightning flashes through the window, lengthening the shadows of the old Victorian.
I go to the bathroom in the hall and stare at myself in the mirror.
I don’t recognize myself. It’s like looking at a stranger. Some days I worry that if I reach out for my reflection, there will be nothing there.
I’m starting to look like her.
Carved clean. Exhausted.
I don’t want to be mad.
And I’m just so fucking tired.
My cardigan slips off the bone of my shoulder and I catch a glimpse of a puckered scar. One to match the runes drawn on the ceiling.
I pull the collar back up.
The medicine cabinet is missing half a door, so the left side is open revealing several rows of pill bottles.
Take your pick.
I don’t want to be mad.
I reach out for a bottle of ibuprofen. I’ve taken so many over the years, I barely know relief from them anymore.
The floor creaks beyond the hall.
I snatch my hand back.
Lightning flashes through the house again and thunder chases it.
When the rumbling ends, I hear a door shut.
Mom.
I race down the hall and hurry into the room, but she’s still on the cot sleeping soundly.
My heart rams into my throat.
Another board creaks.
Maybe someone broke in, thinking the house was abandoned? We can barely afford the rent, let alone the utilities for a house this size. We hardly use the lights.
Slowly, I shut the bedroom door behind me, and slide the lock closed. We don’t have any weapons, nothing practical. We spent all of our money on useless magic.
Breath held, I grit my teeth together.
The doorknob turns.
I slowly back away from it.
Has it started already? Have I already lost my mind?
Thunder cracks through the sky.
The lock thunks open as if by magic and a boot pushes the door in.
The hinges squeak.
I look at Mom again. Was there more to her stories than I was willing to believe?
That can’t be true.
Can it?
Mom lurches awake. “Baby, what’s the time—”
“Shhhh.” I hurry to her side and give her a shake.
But it’s too late. The door is open and he fills up its void.
I can’t fucking breathe.
There is the distinct sound of a lighter being clicked open, then the rough spin of the metal wheel. The flame catches, sending light over his face as he burns the end of a cigarette.
Silver rings on his fingers reflect the flame. Dark tattoos cover his hands. There are several strips of string and leather tied around his wrists. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and wearing a long coat with a stiff collar that stands up around his sharp jaw. Even though his body is hidden beneath the coat, I can tell he’s corded with muscle by the mere suggestion of it in his biceps.
When he pulls the cigarette away from his mouth, I can’t help but trace the veins that snake over his knuckles with a quick sweep of my eyes.
He expels the smoke with a purposeful breath.
“Meredith,” he says, “it’s been too long.”
Mom’s breath catches beside me.
Is this really happening?
“You can’t have her!” she yells.
“As if you could stop me.”
My heart leaps to my throat.
“Please,” Mom says.
He takes a long hit from the cigarette, the embers burning brightly. I hear the tobacco crackle as smoke curls around his face.
There’s a fluttery feeling in my chest that instantly makes me feel guilty.
I suddenly feel more awake than I’ve felt in years.
I should not be feeling anything other than dread in this moment.
This is real. Mom was telling the truth.
“Please,” Mom says again.
“There is no time for begging, Merry.”
He takes his first step over the threshold. So much for that magic.
I gulp down a breath, trying to quell the rapid beat of my heart.
Somehow, in the blink of my eyes, he’s crossed the last of the distance between us. He takes a fistful of my t-shirt dress and yanks me to my feet. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Darling. Which will it be?”
I gulp, trying to dislodge the lump suddenly growing in my throat.