by Vivien Reis
There were items missing, like the coffee table and the rug, but there was no blood. The missing items stuck out like a neon highlighter. This was where her father had nearly died. Where someone had attacked him.
Her stomach twisted, and she was glad she hadn't eaten yet. It wasn't just her father that was affected by the attack. She knew it was normal for the rest of her family to grieve him, but she hadn't expected to grieve her house. It didn't seem like the warm home she had been in just a week ago, even with the ever-present reminder that her mom was sick.
How could this have happened? Her father was the kindest man in their town, caring for a woman who'd tried to harm his kids, a woman he still loved.
He'd risen to the task of being a single parent, part-time caregiver, and full-time professor. When her mom got sick, he learned to cook for them. He learned that you couldn't use dish soap in place of dishwasher detergent, that leaving the clothes in the washing machine caused them to smell.
Tears rolled down her face and splattered onto her shirt and collarbone, chilling her skin.
She moved away from the scene and climbed the stairs. Every place Abi looked, she expected to see blood. But whoever had cleaned here had been thorough.
Her room also felt abandoned, even though nothing in it had changed. The floral comforter was still pulled to the side from that morning, her closet door left open when she had last grabbed her backpack three days ago. She grabbed a few of her comfy sweatshirts, rolling them to fit properly in her bag. The book she hadn't finished and the mug sitting on her desk fit snugly on top of her clothes. The sheriff had packed a few things for them that night, something Abi had found incredibly embarrassing.
She zipped that portion of her bag up and opened a smaller one.
In a move so normal to her, she dropped to her belly and scooted under the bed. The board popped up and she fished her journal out, making to grab the photo box when her fingers brushed against something smooth and cold in the hole. Her heartbeat quickened as she imagined spidery legs crawling over her hand.
She felt around, laying tentative fingers on it before pulling the object out.
It was something white dangling from a chain. The light under the bed was too low to make out the details, but it was an ivory stone with decorative metal wrapped around the top half of it.
Grabbing the box of photos, she replaced the board, and slid out to the other side of the bed. She took the flashlight from the top drawer of her desk and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. The box was heavy in her hand as she opened it. Tears stung her eyes before she even looked at the first photo. It was one of her dad and mom leaning against a rusted car. He had his arm draped over her shoulders. They were so young.
Something shattered downstairs. She dropped the box, photos scattering. Her door was still open and she stared, frozen on the other side of the bed. Had her mom returned? Was it the person who had attacked her dad? Had he seen her come in here?
Her hands shook, bending several of the photos as she crammed them back into the container. She shoved everything into her backpack, crushing the box to make it all fit.
Another noise downstairs. It was coming from the kitchen.
Then voices. There was more than one of them. Male.
Creeaakkk.
The top stair!
Her heart leapt into her throat as a man's head appeared in her doorway. He had long, braided red hair and pale skin. Several of his teeth were missing. Surprise flashed across his face before he shouted, "Hey!"
She darted to her right, into the bathroom, and slapped the lock down on the door. Scuffling and the booming of heavy feet.
He was coming. The door shook as the man ran into it, surprise knocking her backward and into the tub, the curtain rod crashing down on her. Something flashed on the other side of the door and it shattered, splintering all around her.
She tried to move, to get up, but she wasn’t quick enough. He grabbed her, squeezing her arms as he fought to pick her up. A scream lodged in her throat, building with pressure as images of her dad’s attack flooded her senses. Air pushed all around her until her ears popped. Bright light threw her to the ground in a hot wave.
Nausea pulled at her stomach as she pushed herself up off the ground, her right shoulder throbbing. The man lay next to her, struggling to regain consciousness.
“Tony?” a male voice called from the hall.
She tripped through the door to Ben’s room, almost falling as she collided with a bag on the floor. Going downstairs wasn’t an option. She would have to climb down to get out.
There was a window at the end of the hall that had a small ledge she could jump from. The second man’s footsteps sounded like they were already in her room but she didn’t wait to make sure. Abi moved, aware of every noise the wood made under her feet.
She reached the window and pulled up on it, certain it would shriek. But it didn't budge. She pushed and pulled and yanked.
The lock, you idiot!
"Hey!"
She flicked the lock sideways, yanked the window up and launched herself out of it. Her skin scraped harshly against the shingles before she toppled over the edge of the roof, a quick scream escaping as she plunged to the ground. A bush broke most of her fall, but it knocked the breath out of her, scratches stinging all over her body.
More yelling boomed from inside. She crawled in the dirt for a moment, gasping to regain her breath. Her bike was just where she'd left it. She jumped on, her feet slipping off the pedals as the side door burst open behind her.
They were after her.
Who were these people? She pushed harder, cursing herself for her earlier bike ride. Her limbs moved impossibly slow. She wouldn't be fast enough. They would catch her.
She pedaled through their backyard to a small trail that ran behind her house and a few of her neighbor's houses. It was denser than she remembered, but she kept pedaling. Faster and faster.
Don't turn around. Don't turn around.
Her movements were in sync with her heartbeat.
Buh-boom.
Her feet rotated the pedals round twice.
Buh-boom.
She turned the handlebars and leaned to the side, skimming a tree.
Buh-boom.
A tree root cropped up in her path. She slammed into it, flying over the handlebars. The bike hit her back as she went down, pushing her face hard into the dirt.
Abi spat, feeling the grit between her teeth. Blood dripped from somewhere on her face and her cheek throbbed.
Behind her, she heard yelling.
They were still after her. The adrenaline came back and pushed the pain of her wreck away. She couldn't be certain how far away they were, but she didn't waste time checking. Her handlebars were no longer in line with the front wheel and she fought to keep the bike straight.
She popped out onto the main road that ran around the neighborhood. There was one lone car up ahead of her but no others. The sky was brightening, a clear day.
The road sloped, but she didn't stop, her legs barely able to keep up with the spinning pedals. It was a straight road, with no bends or brush to hide behind. Whenever they came out of the forest, they would have a clear view of her.
The bike reached a speed where it wobbled, no longer stable. Wind rushed past her, blocking out all noise. If she fell now, she'd be in serious trouble.
She had to get away, but where was she headed? Gran's house was in the opposite direction. If she doubled back, she would run right back into the men.
Every breath she took spanned a lifetime of precious seconds. Finally, she reached another intersection and peeled right, praying no cars would be in her way.
They were probably in a car now, traveling a lot faster than she could on her stupid bike. Maybe they were mere seconds behind her.
She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder but saw nothing. The street curved to the right slightly, the houses farther apart. She recognized it.
Cora's house was clo
se. She yanked her bike right, almost missing the turn. Uphill now, but she couldn't slow down. The road snaked back parallel to the main one, but dense trees thankfully hid her from view. A turn, and then another.
Relief washed over her as Cora's house came into view. She rode the bike straight to the backyard, not slowing down for a second as she threw it to the ground and leapt off. No lights were on.
She peered into the living room. It was empty. Her hand paused at the door before sliding it open. It was weird walking into someone else's house, like she was breaking and entering, but she had to.
Abi moved as quietly as she could to Cora's bedroom. When she opened the door, Cora was still dead asleep. She nudged Cora's shoulder and whispered her name.
Cora stirred slightly.
Abi shook her shoulder a little harder and Cora groaned. "Whhaaaat?"
"Cora. It's Abi," she whispered.
"Mmhmm." She was drifting back off to sleep.
"Cora!" It was louder than she had intended, but it did the trick. The bed shook and Cora's eyes flew open.
"Jesus!" She rubbed her eyes and rolled onto her back. Her blue hair shot in every direction, most of it out of the big scrunchy on top of her head. Any pretense of joking vanished from Cora's demeanor. She sat up, taking in Abi's tattered jacket and dirt stained clothes. "What happened?"
"I..." Where was she supposed to start? "Two men just chased me. I'm sorry."
Abi breathed heavily, trying to keep herself together. She was safe, but it felt false, like she shouldn't believe it. She told her everything, shaking by the time she finished.
"We have to call the cops."
"I wasn't supposed to be there."
"Screw getting in trouble. Those men need to be caught! They chased you, Abi. What if they had taken you?" Cora nearly yelled and Abi looked back at the door, afraid her mom would overhear.
"I know, but Gran will be so pissed and I—"
"Who cares? Abi, they could. Have. Killed. You. And what if they have your mom? What if she’s in trouble?"
She was right.
"We'll change the story. Say you were riding on your bike past the house when you saw the side door was open. When you got close, the men chased you. No one has to know you were in the house."
Abi nodded, thankful for Cora's plan, for her quick thinking.
"Call them."
Abi shook her head. "I don't have my phone."
In a quick movement, Cora grabbed her phone and held it out to Abi.
She dialed, hating herself for leaving the house that morning. After a few minutes on the phone, Abi hung up. "They're sending two patrol cars out to my house and one here to get a statement. And take me to Gran’s..."
"What did these men look like exactly?"
"I only saw one of them. He had missing teeth and red, greasy braids."
"And you've never seen him before?"
"Never."
Cora bit her lip, staring at the wall in thought. "Maybe they left something behind the other day they didn't want the cops to find."
They sat in silence, thinking. If the men had left something behind, surely it was too late to hope the police hadn't found it. And it must have been important enough to risk going back to the crime scene.
""What if they're just normal robbers?” Abi asked. “What if they were there to pick the house apart or just trash the place? Our house was all over the news, maybe it was a dare or something."
"I don't think nasty, homeless guys dare each other to do anything, much less ransack a house. Did you see them take anything?"
"Well, no. I mean, I interrupted them I guess."
Cora raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s too much of a coincidence in my book.”Abi shook her head. Her whole body hurt, and all she wanted was to sit down, but she was filthy. Cora sat still cozied up under her blankets.
"Why did you go inside, anyway?" Cora had lost the investigative edge in her voice.
"I wanted to grab a few things." Abi knew what question Cora had on her mind and debated not answering it. She did anyway. "The house was clean."
Cora nodded.
"Did you rescue your diary, then?" Cora got up and looked in the vanity mirror, fixing her hair. Abi appreciated the teasing tone—it lay in stark contrast to the three days.
"And my pictures. Oh!" Remembering the strange necklace, Abi rifled through her bag. Cora stared at her, confused, until Abi found it at the bottom of her backpack and pulled it out. The necklace dangled from her fingers.
"That's weird..." Abi twisted it around, grasping the scarlet crystal in her hand. "I could have sworn this was white." The light caught it, reflecting red beams along her hand.
"What is it?" Cora took it from her, appraising it.
"It was in the same spot I keep my journal."
Cora turned it over. "It looks old. Are you sure it hasn't been there all along?"
"It wasn't there before, I would have seen it. I look in that spot every day."
Cora held the necklace closer, eyeing the fine detail. "Maybe this was what they were after then."
"It's a necklace. Why would someone break into my house for a necklace? It makes no sense..."
"You should tell the police. Maybe it's worth a lot, and that's why they were at your house. What if it leads the police directly to these people?"
She had a point, but what would the necklace tell the police? Any fingerprints would have been smudged off by her own. If it was an expensive item, it was possible they could trace it to someone that might know how it got there. But what kind of trouble would she get in by telling the police? "I can't. They'll know I was in the house."
They stared at each other in silence, Cora chewing on the inside of her cheek before speaking again. "We should hide it, then. Just in case."
Abi nodded in agreement. It was just a necklace, but her stomach turned at the thought her mom could have been the one to put it there. Why would she have done that? Had her mom known what would happen? Did she hide it just before they took her or did she run?
Cora motioned for Abi to follow and they crept along the hallway and downstairs to the basement. After searching the space, Abi found a groove under the stairs and tucked the necklace into it.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. As it left her hand, a warmth emanated from the crystal that almost felt like spindly fingers.
Almost as if the stone were reaching for her.
# NINE
Gran's car rolled to a stop at a red light, the brakes erupting in a high-pitched squeal. Ben shuddered at the sound, goosebumps spreading on his arms. He had woken up that morning with a pain pulsing in his right temple. Motrin had done nothing to ease the headache.
The days seemed to move in a continual downward spiral. Yesterday, Gran had paced a rut in the kitchen worrying about Abi until the sheriff called. Five minutes later, a cop car pulled up and helped Abi take her bike out of the trunk of his SUV. There had been a break-in at their house and someone had chased Abi. Ben knew he should care, but he had nothing left. Abi was okay and that was all that mattered. He had gone to his room instead of listening to the sheriff drilling questions while a detective scribbled in his notebook.
From the guest bedroom, he could hear their muffled voices but only caught an occasional word here and there. He stared at a cottage painting on the wall, certain he could see some of the leaves moving if he squinted his eyes.
When the sheriff had left, Gran flew into a tizzy, moving from her bedroom and back to the living room again and again. She started talking to herself and it took Ben some time to realize she was on the phone, enlisting Mr. Flynn to help tidy their house up again.
It dawned on him that they couldn't live like this forever. Gran's house was too small for the three of them, and they couldn't leave all their possessions in a house that was now a target for crime.
But he definitely didn't want to move back home. Was Gran going to pay the bills for their house? Or were there enough funds in his p
arents’ account to deal with that until his dad recovered?
He had no answers.
Gran put her car into park, but no one made a move to get out.
Directly in front of them stood the hospital. They were visiting their father again, only this time, the doctor had some news from the latest series of scans and tests.
Ben knew what this would mean. They all did, even though no one had to say it. If the scans came back with no activity on them, then his dad was a vegetable. Brain dead. A zombie.
They got out of the car and went into the building. A constant tremor quaked through Ben's body as he walked.
Into the elevator. Up eight floors. Out, take a right, down the hall.
And there he was. Still bandaged. Machines still beeping. The nurse had just finished changing the gauze around his neck and Ben's mind flooded with bloody images. He swallowed, staring at his shoes.
Abi went to his father's right side, Ben took his left. This had been their routine for the past three days. They would get up early, head to the hospital and sit in silence until lunchtime. Sometimes Abi would cry and try to hide it. Sometimes he would.
A gentle knock on the door made Ben's stomach hit the floor.
"Good morning. I'm Dr. Raymond. I’m the neurologist that reviewed Mr. Cole’s scans." He reached out a hand and shook Gran's, then gave a quick nod to Abi and Ben.
"So, how is he?" Gran asked, her face like stone.
"As you know, we conducted a series of extensive scans yesterday to analyze Mr. Cole's neural activity." He shuffled the chart in his hands, crossing his arms over it before continuing. "I'm sorry, but there's no presence of significant brain activity."
Silence ballooned in the room, swelling until Ben thought it would explode.
"He's a vegetable, then?" Had he really just asked that? Ben stared at the white walls, the world falling away from him.
"Benjamin!" Gran's voice was shrill, shocked.
"He didn't respond to the neurological assessments. I'm sorry to have to tell you all this, but Mr. Cole has officially been declared as brain dead. There's not much of a chance of him pulling through this."
"How much?" Abi's clenched teeth distorted her question, her eyes glassy.