by Mason, V. F.
Panic enveloped me, more gory pictures painted in my mind, while I hectically tried to find her. I rushed into the hall and continued screaming. “Esme!”
Failing to locate her upstairs, I ran down the stairs, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight.
And then I heard it.
A slight humming like chanting was coming from the kitchen, and I darted there, opening the cabinet under the sink to find Esme sitting there rocking back and forth, her pajamas smeared in blood while a yellow pool surrounded her. She hid her face in her knees. “Esme,” I whispered, but she wouldn’t react, just rocking and chanting words.
Words that took a second to make sense. “Run, Esme, run. Run, Esme, run. Run, Esme, run.” She repeated them over and over again as if possessed.
“Baby, come here,” I said, forcibly dragging her out as she struggled in my hold, now screaming, “Run, Esme, run!”
Circling my arms around her, I pressed her to my chest, and said, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
“Run, Esme!” she screamed, and it turned into a loud sob as she cried her heart out, while my own tears fell on her because my dead mother lay upstairs, and my sister must have witnessed the whole thing.
“Shhhh, baby.” Swaying her slightly in my arms, I tried to calm her, when my prince came to the house, probably worried by my disappearance in here, and it took him a second to take the whole thing in.
Everything that happened after, I remember in a blur.
Police arrived along with a shrink for Esme, who refused to talk and couldn’t tell them a thing.
How neighbors gathered outside, but no one saw anything.
Nothing had been stolen, and everything was in perfect order, so they assumed my mother must have known the intruder.
None of the theories they came up with lasted long, as all the evidence disputed it, so that’s why Esme was considered the key to uncovering it all.
Only she locked her lips forever it seems, because she hasn’t said a word since.
The funeral happened shortly after. My prince paid for it all, and ironically, the day has been so sunny, the birds themselves chirping during the service as if mocking us for our sorrow.
How can people and the world still function the same when everything I knew is destroyed?
We lived in his house temporarily, because staying here… at the crime scene… I just couldn’t.
But like today and every day since the tragedy happened… we came here to feel Mom.
God, how is it possible to live with such pain? To know you can’t call her, talk to her, hug her, feel her warmth again? Live in a world where your mother doesn’t breathe or live or laugh?
They say we can stay children as long as our parents are alive, and I never understood how true this statement rang.
Now, we’re orphans.
Esme stirs next to me, muttering, “Run, Esme,” before falling back asleep. Heaviness blankets my heart, reminding me about her trauma and how much needs to be done for her.
Which brings me to this entry really, because the letter from my grandmother sits next to me.
The woman who despised my mother’s every breath and acted as if she no longer had a son… wants to take Esme in.
Give her the family name, power, education, necessary psychological help.
The insurance will just cover the house. Mom still had several years to pay off the mortgage on it, and we have no savings to speak off.
I have two more years in college, and while according to the law I can be her legal guardian, I don’t have anything to offer her.
Grandmother is asking nicely right now, but if she puts her mind to it and involves the authorities, she will easily win this fight and take her away from me.
She might even forbid me seeing her out of spite should this whole situation turn sour.
My prince laughs at the notion and proposes marriage instead, claiming that his money will allow for comfortable living for us all, and that my grandmother won’t be able to do shit.
He is very insistent on it, strangely, which should make my heart flutter, but instead… it just confuses it.
Which has no logical explanation anyway.
However, I have to think about Esme and what Mom would have wanted.
After this nightmare, Esme deserves to have a peaceful life, hopefully speaking again soon and living her life despite the horrors imprinted in her brain.
My prince and I would love her unconditionally… but how sure am I about the stability of our relationship? Or that he won’t change his mind someday, and then where would it leave us with Esme? On the streets alone, struggling to survive?
Grandmother might be a bitch, but she will value Esme due to her talent, and if the stories Dad told about her are true, she would pay for all her classes and trips as long as she can show it off to the public.
I could also ensure she would spend the weekends with me in this, giving her the best of two worlds.
Mom once told me that being an older sibling means having a lot of responsibility, because we have to choose what’s best for the younger siblings and not for us.
We cannot be selfish, even if we want to.
My soul cries out at the prospect of not being near Esme again or make decisions about her life; she is everything I have left after my parents.
But her well-being matters more right now.
I hope I’m making the right decision.
And somewhere from above, our parents are watching over us, protecting us and guiding us on the right path.
Esmeralda
I hear the loud crack before a blast of heat blows over me, and Lucian laces his fingers with mine as he pulls me somewhere.
Huffing in annoyance, I tap on the blindfold, cautiously following him, unsure about my surroundings, and ask him, “Why did I have to wear this thing on the plane?”
I expected him to remove it from my head the minute he brought me on the metal bird, thinking maybe the surprise started here.
Aren’t movies full of such romantic scenarios?
But he sat me down on a comfortable leather chair and then dropped next to me while the flight attendant gave me a cold glass of orange juice.
Lucian put headphones over my head; rock music played during the entire flight, and whenever I wanted to voice my concerns, he told me to relax.
Unfortunately, he wouldn’t see my freaking glares at this weird behavior, and to my astonishment, I complied with the request that sounded more like an order, since I promised to trust him. And to be honest, deep down, excitement built inside me at the prospect of seeing his surprise.
My life has been an unshakable boat strangled by the shore, safe and sound from nature and its mood swings. Lucian’s presence became a storm that rocked the boat and towed it to the middle of the ocean… where anything could happen to it.
And just once, I want to stop being cautious and allow myself risks, especially on the day that should have always been special but became a painful reminder of my loneliness.
So instead of putting up a fight, I ended up falling asleep and awoke shortly after to the plane landing in Chicago. We must have reached it in record time!
Lucian pulls at our joined hands, and I speed up, my feet stepping on something that shakes.
Airplane steps.
Does he expect me to just descend blind? I love surprises, but not enough to break my neck for them!
A scream traps in my throat when I feel his hand on my back and then under my knees as he dips down and picks me up again. “Careful or I might get used to this,” I warn him, and his chest vibrates from laughter as he rubs his chin on my head before walking down the stairs, his shoes banging on it loudly. “This surprise better be huge!”
Maybe he’s taking me to a museum? They have amazing ones here.
Regardless of his plans, I’m not leaving Chicago without fully immersing myself in its artistic culture. Thank God for the small pockets in my dress where I always keep my credit cards in case
I end up in questionable situations.
“Well, if a surprise doesn’t exceed your expectations, it can’t be a surprise arranged by me, can it?” Despite the evident smugness in his tone, I laugh at his confidence. He must take the last step, because his shoes no longer make a sound, and someone clears his throat.
The silk covering my eyes heightens my other senses, so even a fly buzzing around in the distance is picked up by my ears, and Lucian’s cologne tickles my nose, whispering wicked thoughts in my head.s
“Mr. Cortez. Welcome back.” A beat, and then, “Ma’am.”
“Thank you, George.”
I greet him back. “Hi!” Lucian puts me on the ground and unties the blindfold, making me blink several times as white dots appear in front of me. Finally, my vision clears, and I see a man around my age smiling at me. He’s wearing a driver’s uniform, and a hat covers his hair. “It’s nice to meet you, George.”
“Likewise, ma’am.” He opens the door to the black car, and Lucian leans into me, leaving me no choice but to climb inside as he follows.
Settling on the leather seat, I rest my head back, welcoming the air conditioning that’s saving me from the heat outside, and cross my ankles in the spacious backseat.
Looking around, I expect something to pop up around me, but nothing hints at a gift awaiting me here or giving me a clue where we might go.
Unless…
My cheeks heat up, thinking of what we could possibly do here right now, and Lucian’s husky voice pulls me back to the present. “Wicked thoughts should be forbidden for you. They are written all over your face.”
Ironing out the hem of my skirt with my hands, I turn my head to him, and say, “You have no one but yourself to blame. You’ve corrupted me.” A mocking gasp escapes him. “No surprise in the car? I’m starting to wonder if maybe you just lied to me to get the goods.” I slide my fingers over my skirt, slightly raising it up my legs, and his gaze lands there, his brown eyes darkening. “If your surprise is sex and finally succumbing to my advances, I’m in.”
He puts his palm over mine, stilling my movements. “Trust me, sex would never be a surprise in our relationship but a frequent occurrence. I don’t need to have a special occasion to fuck you.”
Ugh, the man needs to stop saying stuff like this, because it drives me even more insane, wanting to finally discover the pleasure of the flesh rather than for it to be alluded to in a future that’s not even certain.
Pouting, I sigh. “It shouldn’t be so hard to seduce a charming asshole.” He frowns at the title, causing a laugh to burst from me, because he hates it whenever I mention this little tidbit, finding it highly inaccurate, but I love to tease him about it anyway.
He grips my hand, shifting me forward so he can slip his arm between the cushion and my back, bringing me closer to his chest. “Answering your previous question, I know how much you hate flying, so I wanted to make it easier for you. The blindfold made you focus and curious about what was to come, instead of frightened.” My betraying heart melts after this explanation, clenching so hard inside my chest before galloping again, while an emotion settles in my soul that’s so foreign to me.
Because for the first time in a very long while, someone is worried about me so much they tried to ease my discomfort instead of claiming I should just get over it or dismiss it all together.
And his plan worked, right?
Because not once did I think about jumping out of the plane or restlessly walking around. Usually, I’d take sleeping pills and ask the flight attendant to wake me up when we land; however, here, it was different.
“How did you know?” I ask, placing my head on his shoulder while his hand slides up and down my thigh in a soothing motion.
He presses on some button next to him, and the screen separating us from George opens as he pulls the car from the airport and drives, speeding up the farther we go. “George.” He just calls his name, and the driver immediately presses a few buttons next to him, and at once, all the windows lower when the sunroof slides open, making the clear sky above show for us, creating an illusion of free space.
The wind swirls around us, sending my hair flying in different directions, and some of it even hits Lucian in the face. George has to remove his hat, because it keeps sliding forward.
And although the freezing air of AC was better than the current situation, the fact that no walls block the outside world makes me exhale heavily, calming the familiar distress present in me.
“You always push into the far corner inside a car or hold on to me tight while glancing at my wristwatch as if counting how many more minutes it’ll take to drive. And I’ve noticed you left the studio when you were completely exhausted so you wouldn’t have enough energy to panic in the cab.” He traps my chin between his thumb and finger, caressing my skin while holding my gaze. “Do you want to tell me why enclosed spaces make you scared?” I open my mouth to use my usual excuse, but his finger on my lips stops me. “You can hide in your studio or house, so it’s not really enclosed space, but moving enclosed spaces…” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Why?”
The car gets on a highway, the speed increasing as we pass several buildings and houses but mostly just trees as everything moves in a blur, hardly letting me study anything about the city.
Lucian, pinches my chin a little and snaps my attention back to him, prompting, “Gatita.”
Swallowing hard, because I’ve never shared this information before, I can’t deny him an answer when he has gone out of his way to make it all so comfortable for me.
And in truth… I don’t want to; the burden of carrying it alone weighs on me so heavily, isolating me in fear and confusion from everyone, even him.
Maybe if he knows more about me, he will be more understanding about my refusal to marry him and display more patience at giving us a chance.
A chance at what?
I’m already in a deep state of denial.
“If something happens at the studio, gallery, or my home, I can easily run away somewhere,” I whisper, my hand fisting his shirt while thousands of evil memories slam into me, threatening to pull me into their vortex if I don’t hold on to him. “But in a car, plane, or train, I’m trapped until it stops. I cannot leave whenever I wish. I have to sit my ass still and wait, wait, wait.” Tears form in my eyes as I scrunch them tight. “There is no escape.”
“The car can stop if you tell the driver,” he speaks up gently, his thumb continuing to caress me, while his arm cages me in his embraces, creating a protective cocoon around me.
“Still, the power lies with a driver, right?”
“Did someone hurt you in the past, gatita?” Although his voice stays the same, his body under me tenses a little while danger dances on the edges of his tone.
Run, Esme, run.
The memories are too raw to ever share them with anyone, even Lucian. Besides, who would want to hear the gory details of the nightmares that won’t let me sleep, even ten years later?
Darkness and evilness are like dirt, smearing you in something hideous and disgusting that doesn’t wash away no matter what you do.
No matter where you go, you carry it with you.
“Once upon a time, I had to sit in a very enclosed space for four days.”
He pauses, touching me while his arm tightens around me, probably pondering the information I’ve just given him. Even without more elaboration, it’s clear I didn’t do it of my own free will.
Heavy boots walk around the living room, creaking the wood under them, while his voice drops down to almost gentle, although his gloved hand still flips the knife dripping blood on the floor back and forth. “Come out of hiding, Esmeralda.” Breathing into my knees while my fists clench, I see the man through a small hole in the cabinet door. “Come out, little darling.” He licks the blood from the steel and groans loudly, making me want to barf all over my knees, and I barely swallow it back. “Ah, divine. I bet your blood will be as good.” He moves toward the couch,
throwing away the pillows, and peers underneath it, looking for me, then goes to the fireplace. “Where did you go, little girl?” He licks his knife again before stabbing it hard on our small table, where it dangles. My body jerks at this, but I roll my lips tighter, not daring to make a sound.
Fear envelops me, slipping into every bone in my body, while my hands shake and Mommy’s blood soaks my pajamas, reminding me about her lying on the floor in my room.
Tears slide down my cheeks as sobs shake me, but I stay quiet, listening to her screamed words.
To run so he wouldn’t find me, but I didn’t have enough time to slip outside, so I chose the place under the sink. Mom always said people assumed it doesn’t open because it has no handles.
I have to just wait until he leaves. And then I can call nine-one-one, and police will come so they can help Mommy.
Monster.
A man who came inside our house in the middle of the night is a monster who must have arrived here straight from hell.
A monster who has no face as he wears a black mask from which only his lips, nose, and eyes are visible, but even those are covered by the sunglasses he wears despite the darkness inside the house, lit up only by the moonlight.
“Esme, darling. Come out. Let’s play.” He strolls to the kitchen, and my heart stops, only to beat again when he opens the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of milk and gulping it before wiping his mouth. “Where did that little shit go?” he asks himself, looking around the room, and rests his arm on the fridge. “My creation won’t be complete without her.” He sits on the chair and drums his fingers on the table before picking up a remote and turning the TV on. “You won’t be able to hide forever, darling.”
And he stays.
On the first day, he eats and sleeps while periodically watching the TV or listening to the radio.
On the second day, he continues to search for me, screaming my name and threatening to cut me limb by limb if I don’t come out of hiding instead of just shooting a bullet through my head.