I didn’t know it at the time, but I took this for my sister. When she started to act differently she would bring me little dead animals and make me promise not to tell Mama and Papa where I got them from.
And I never did.
Instead, I adorned my room with the beautiful gifts she would rip to shreds with her fingernails and even some that she gutted with her teeth.
That’s how I knew I could use mine as well as she did.
She took me with her into the woods behind Mama and Papa’s house once. We raced quickly into the field, her laughter echoing through the trees, my grim silence answering her. I wanted to keep up with her, to not let her out of my sight because I was so worried she’d hurt herself, but Grace had always been taller and faster than me.
When I finally caught up to her behind a giant, mangled tree that we nicknamed The Hangman’s Tree, I saw what she had done.
She was on her knees, a small deer trapped under the weight of her body and she was using her teeth to rip out chunks of its flesh. When she was done, when the exhaustion took over her, I let her fall against me, and I used my hand to gently brush her hair.
She looked so beautiful: pale-skinned, wide, manic blue eyes, white-blonde hair that had been matted slightly by the blood and sinew.
But it didn’t matter to me because she trusted me enough to hold her, to take care of her when she seemingly couldn’t do it anymore, and I cherished that.
I always will.
Forever.
Chapter Four
I’m startled awake by a knock at the front door. I hadn’t even realized that I had fallen asleep, but I welcome the deviation from it.
Usually, I don’t dream.
I just walk through landscapes made up of nightmares: worlds where Mama and Papa are still alive, ones where Grace is always just out of my reach. My penance is constantly paid in the Hell that waits for me on the nights I dare to sleep, and because of that, I welcome insomnia like the dear friend that it doesn’t even realize it is to me.
Knock, knock.
I grunt as I get to my feet and rub my neck as I walk out of my room. A crack of sunlight touches my feet when I head into the hallway which means that one of the window slats has dislodged slightly. I make a mental note to fix it when I’ve gotten rid of whoever is at the door.
“Just a minute,” I call out in a froggy voice when the knocking persists.
I close my eyes for a moment, using the palms of my hands to rub them quickly before I reach the door.
“Who is it?” I ask softly, as I press my ear against the rotten wood.
Knock, knock.
“Who is it?” I inquire again, a little louder this time.
Bang! Bang!
I jump slightly as I take a step back, my breathing becoming slightly labored. I know I shouldn’t open the door since I won’t be as nimble as I think I’ll need to be, but if someone wants my attention so desperately that they knock so goddamn much, then the least I can do is—
I let out a scream and shut the door as quickly as I opened it. My body slides down to the floor and I wrap my arms around my legs as I begin to rock back and forth.
“It’s not real, it’s not real.”
I repeat it like a chant, my eyes closed tightly as the banging persists.
“Go away!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I grab fistfuls of my hair and begin yanking as hard as I can, screaming and screeching to drown out the banging, the vibrating of the door that I’m pressed again.
It’s him.
He’s still alive, the rat is still trying to burrow its way down his gullet, and his dick is still bleeding.
He tried to grab me before I closed the door. His eyes were angry and the umber in them looked like dust. He had a hand guarding his dick, to keep me from doing any more damage, or from finishing the job I had started.
He found me like they all do.
“Stop!” I scream at the top of my lungs as another series of knocks rattles my mind and body.
And then, it’s over before I know it.
The banging, the screeching, the pain of pulling at my hair as violently as I can, it all stops.
That’s when the back of the chair gives way and I tumble onto the dirty, wooden floor of my bedroom.
It seems that my nightmares are becoming much more realistic.
As a fresh cascade of tears begins to fall, a horrible realization begins to fall over me.
I’m running out of time.
I’ve been staring at the wall behind my bed for the rest of the midnight hours straight into twilight. Any time I felt myself becoming tired, I’d reach up and yank on my hair.
Since it always helped me wake up, it should also help me stay awake.
I roll my neck on my shoulders wondering when I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed again.
The answer to that is simple enough, but I know I’ll only ever feel like I’ve earned that again when I’ve found Grace.
Until I can get Charlie to tell me where I can find her, I won’t be able to give up.
He’s the only one who has the answers I need.
I reach down and wipe away the debris from underneath my thighs. I’ve been sitting on the front porch waiting for the sun to rise.
Being inside made me feel too susceptible to having another nightmare, and I don’t want to go through that again, especially not so soon. That’s what did Grace in; too many fucking nightmares and not enough people to tell her that it was
