The Delusion

by Laura Gallier

  The Watchmen came to a halt, the brisk air ushering their one-of-a-kind fragrance my way—a mix of masculine body soap, a scented candle, and fabric softener. All power and cleanliness. I sucked it up my nose and held it.

  The gleaming army stared at the shabby Creepers, eyes focused and stern. Surely this was it—the moment they would charge my school and destroy the evil army.

  In sync, they lifted their crowned heads toward the sky, peering up at the first faint hues of sunrise.

  And they stayed that way until the sun had dawned.

  I climbed back into the SUV, not willing to expose my smiley-face boxers to morning traffic. Eventually I started the car and drove home, so dejected it was all I could do to turn the wheel. Those Watchmen were dressed for battle but did nothing more than pose. What was going on?

  I opened my front door about an inch. The contaminated smell slapped me in the face. My mom was hunched over on the sofa watching Good Morning America.

  “Owen?”

  “Hey, Mom.” I swung the door open and walked inside as if everything were fine and there was no horrid Creeper brooding behind her back. Not easy to do.

  “Where were you?” Her speech was slow and muffled.

  “I ran an errand.”

  “Please go do something with that obnoxious dog of yours. She won’t shut up.”

  I dreaded going upstairs but told myself if Murder was going to brutalize me, I might as well get it over with. I made it to the top step unharmed. Daisy was there, nose pointed down at the living room. Maybe that meant my room was clear.

  I locked my dog with me in the bathroom and showered with the shower curtain half open. Then I pulled Daisy by the collar and basically shoved her in my room and shut her inside. When I didn’t hear her bark or growl, I went in. I could tell from the smell of things that the Creeper was gone. A courageous glance under my bed confirmed it.

  Maybe I’d actually go to school today. That would get me away from my mom’s monster, and it would put me in a prime seat in case the Watchmen decided to advance.

  But by the time I got to school, they were gone.

  I took a shortcut to first period and glanced at the depressing suicide memorial fence. I stopped.

  I’d never taken a close look at the lineup of pictures, the desperate souls who’d taken their own lives, most of them before I came to Masonville. I eyed the first picture—suicide number one—and scanned the notes plastered around it, all addressed to Lucas.

  Then it hit me. He looked just like her. A surge of emotion clumped in my throat.

  Lucas Greiner.

  Ray Anne’s younger brother.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I STARTED TO TEXT Ray Anne but stopped. Better to tell her in person how sorry I was about Lucas.

  As I dragged my feet to first period, the mysterious old man’s words came back to me, what he’d said about my school: “Tragedy ever since those doors opened. Untold loss.”

  Ray Anne knew that as well as anyone.

  Walking with my head down, I noticed there were Creeper notes all over the place, sailing a few inches off the floor and landing in random corners and in the gap underneath lockers. They all had the same number combination like before—523—but the three letters that followed were all different:

  BTL, SMJ, RWF

  What did they mean?

  Ray Anne had noticed them too. She texted me some images and wrote, So freaky.

  I got to first period, and there sat Dan with his two tons of cords and chains, grinning at me like a fat hyena. His eye was bruised, as though he’d been socked in the face. Too bad I couldn’t take credit for it. “What?” I asked. I was in no mood for his antics.

  “Jess is a sweet, sweet girl.” He winked.

  Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid, Jess.

  I studied his damaged face. “She do that to you?” Maybe she’d actually put him in his place.

  He slumped and dropped his chin. “No.”

  I’d never seen Dan look so pitiful. So defeated. But I can’t say that I minded.

  After class, I searched the hallways for Jess but crossed paths with Ray Anne instead. Her head hung low, such a contrast from her usual cheerfulness. She exited into an outdoor atrium, and I followed her. She turned toward me but kept her eyes down.

  “Today’s my brother’s birthday.”

  There was no way for me to know that, but I still felt like a loser that I hadn’t. “Ray Anne.” I put my hand on her shoulder. She kept her arms crossed. “I saw Lucas’s picture. On the fence.”

  Her head sank even lower.

  “How did—”

  “How’d he do it? Don’t you dare ask me that!” she exploded before I’d even had a chance to finish my question. She could hardly catch her breath.

  I took a step back to give her some space. “I was just gonna ask how you guys celebrated his birthday before. In the past. But I shouldn’t have asked anything.”

  She teared up. “Owen. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “It’s fine,” I told her. “Completely fine.”

  She wiped her eyes, then exhaled long and heavy, like she was forcing herself to be strong.

  “On the first day of school, Lucas was having a hard time finding one of his classes.”

  “Ray Anne, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to.” She swallowed hard. “He happened to ask Jess for help, and Dan saw them talking. Just talking. He came charging over and got in Lucas’s face. Humiliated him in front of everyone.

  “From that day on, Dan made my brother’s life miserable. Called him out all the time. Cut him down.

  “I knew Lucas was upset about it—sick over it, even—but I never, ever thought he’d . . .” Her fragile voice cracked. I hugged her, content to let her tears soak my sleeve.

  Standing there, holding her in my arms, two things hit me.

  Dan was even more messed up than I’d thought.

  And Ray Anne meant even more to me than I’d realized.

  At lunch, Jess finally got away from Dan long enough for me to talk to her, but she didn’t seem to want to hear a word I had to say about anything—especially him. “Why do you put up with that lowlife? Cover for him when he lashes out at you?”

  She grabbed my collar and pulled my face to hers, keeping her voice down.

  “Look, I know Dan has issues, but you have no clue what his father is really like.”

  Actually I did. Mr. Wonderful on the outside, scary evil on the inside.

  “Dan’s trying to change,” she said, “but it’s kind of hard when something as stupid as not saying ‘sir’ gets you a black eye.”

  That’s when it clicked.

  All Dan’s taunting, his harsh jabs about my missing father, and it turns out his was an abuser. Not that I could bring myself to feel sorry for him.

  “I can’t deal with this today.” Jess stormed off before I had a chance to warn her that she’d never change him by letting him take his anger out on her—a concept my mom couldn’t seem to grasp either.

  I wish I could say that was as intense as my day got.

  At dismissal, while walking down the hall with Ray Anne, I saw Lance and Meagan hugging at his locker. I was instantly queasy. That same Creeper that had stalked her before—Demise—stood close to Meagan, eyeing her. Worse, she had another Creeper attached. They were all gruesome, but this one . . .

  A scorched word ran sideways over its face, starting at the bottom of its cheek and stretching across its shriveled nose, over its nonhuman eye, and onto its eroding temple. A word that struck the most terror in me yet.

  I turned to Ray Anne. “See Meagan over there?”

  She tried a casual glance but didn’t pull it off. “Yeah?”

  “She’s linked up to a Creeper.” I whispered it. “Suicide.”

  Her eyes went wide. “We’ve got to do something!”

  Such a relief, the way I could count on her to believe me.

  “Let’s get over there,”
I said. “Your light will drive it away.”

  I walked up to Lance like the two of us were still good friends. He socked me in the shoulder, like old times.

  “What’s up?” I said.

  “The mortality rate.” Lance smirked. Meagan smiled but barely. Ray Anne and I froze.

  “I’m Lance.” He reached to shake Ray Anne’s hand, then pointed to his girlfriend. “This is Meagan.”

  Ray Anne said hello and stepped closer to grip Meagan’s hand. But . . .

  It had no effect whatsoever on the Creeper.

  Our small talk kept going, and Ray Anne inched over, nearly rubbing shoulders with Meagan. But Suicide used Meagan as a human shield, avoiding Ray Anne’s light no matter what angle she came at it.

  Then, as if Suicide exerted some sort of mind control, when it moved, Meagan would move, shadowing her tormentor like her subconscious was held hostage. Even the slightest gestures mimicked her captor. The Creeper looked down and licked its lips. Meagan did the same. I shuddered.

  Ray Anne looked to me for some sign of what was going on. I rubbed circles on my forehead, exasperated. Ray Anne’s potency was no match for the Creeper. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was latched to a human host. The thing clearly wanted to avoid Ray Anne’s light, but it wasn’t willing to give up Meagan.

  I looked up and around, wondering if Watchmen would come to Meagan’s rescue again. But they didn’t show.

  I pulled Lance to the side. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  He followed me down the hall, beyond earshot of his girlfriend.

  “It’s Meagan.”

  His eyebrows pressed together. “What about her?”

  “Lance, she’s in serious danger.”

  He huffed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think she’s going to hurt herself. On purpose.”

  He stepped back. Crossed his arms. Scowled. “I thought maybe you’d gotten some help, but you’re still—”

  “I know I’ve said some unbelievable things lately, but you have to take me seriously on this. Trust me. She’s in big trouble.”

  A long exhale, then he clamped down hard on my shoulder, pulling me into a nearby restroom like he wanted to throw down or something. His face was an explosive red. “Look,” he shouted, “it’s a well-known fact that I think you’ve become psychotic, and it’s also a well-known fact that you were the last person to hang out with Walt and Marshall.”

  “What are you saying?” I’d never seen him this angry.

  “I don’t know what you did to them, but maybe it’s not a coincidence that they’re both dead.”

  My gaze dropped. “You think I wanted to kill our friends?”

  “That’s what some people are saying. I’m getting tired of sticking up for you.”

  What? People suspected me? Since when? “Why don’t you try listening to me?” I got in his face. “Hear me on this. Your girlfriend could die, Lance.”

  I flinched when he pointed in my face, his voice low, but so furious he was shaking. Creepers were flocking to the scene now. “You stay away from Meagan, and from me, you hear me?”

  My back was pressed against a wall at this point, and a surge of anger kicked in. But I wasn’t willing to go to fists with Lance.

  Who knows what would have happened had some guys not walked into the restroom. It seemed to pain him to turn his back on me, and after a scorching glance over his shoulder, he walked out.

  I lost that argument, but it was Meagan who stood to lose everything.

  After school, I relied on my sense of smell and my dog’s cues to determine if my home was safe or not. It seemed okay for now. The word guilty inscribed above my living room window was fading. The highlight of my day.

  I sat on the sofa with a bag of Doritos, contemplating my next move. I refused to sit back and do nothing to help Meagan. I needed to talk to her, but without Lance around. And this wasn’t something I could put off. The thought of her being number fifteen . . .

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  Meanwhile, Ray Anne texted and asked if I wanted to go back to the mall with her. My mom won’t rest till I buy that dress.

  Not exactly as important as a mission to save a life, but of course I wanted to go. I’d have spent every second with her if she’d have let me.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. Ray Anne, I assumed.

  Wrong.

  It was Jess, and by the time I answered, she was headed back to her car like she’d changed her mind. I went after her, and she turned to face me, trails of black makeup on her cheeks. She didn’t look good.

  “Did Dan do something? You need to dump him, Jess.”

  She shrugged, then leaned on me to keep her balance.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  She said no, but I knew better.

  “Talk to me, Jess.”

  She plopped down on the cement, noisy chains and all. I sat next to her and waited for her to spill her guts.

  “I’m so confused.” Her voice quivered. “I think Dan cares about me, but I’m not sure. And after last night, it’s too late anyway.”

  I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. I also wanted to shout, “I told you so!”

  “It wasn’t what I thought.” She crumpled a tissue. “I wanted it to be special, to feel close. Loved. But instead I feel . . .” She choked. “It made the memories worse.” She buried her face in her hands, then leaned on my shoulder.

  “Memories of what?”

  “No, I can’t tell anyone. I promised.”

  “Jess, who did you promise?” I cupped her chin and lifted her face. “You can tell me.”

  She swallowed tears, then started talking, describing how her dad’s brother, her uncle Jeff, came to live at their house for a while a few years back, when he was going through a divorce. Her parents let him stay in their guesthouse—a posh two-level living area at the back of their property.

  It took her a while to say it. “He didn’t stay in his room at night.” Her palms pressed over her eyes. “He came into my room. I was twelve.”

  She became hysterical, gasping while explaining how she’d confided in her mother. Together they’d told her father, but he’d accused her of exaggerating. He’d made her promise never to talk about it, to put it out of her mind and move on.

  “My mom told me to let it go too. She’s chosen country clubs and luxury cars over me. And my dad still hangs out with my uncle like nothing happened.”

  She fell into my arms, and I hugged her as tight as I could, with her entrapments and all. My heart broke for her. I wanted to find her uncle and put an end to his manhood.

  Then, it was like a light went on.

  The name on one of Jess’s chains was Jeffrey Thompson. Uncle Jeff. And her parents’ names were on the other two. It made sense now. But Jess had a fourth chain today. I guessed it before I looked.

  daniel quinton bradford

  Dan. That sorry excuse for a man was now baggage around Jess’s neck, a worthless weight she’d carry around for the rest of her life. Unless I found a way to free her.

  I had to pull back and let go of her. The chill was too much. Still, I tried to comfort her. “Jess, I’m so sorry that you—”

  A Creeper passed through my neighbor’s fence across the street, striding in our direction. I cleared my throat and stood.

  “Get up.”

  “What?”

  “We have to go, right now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Her defiant cord was in full swing.

  At first I thought Murder was coming for me. But I could see now it was a different one. “Get up. Now!” I reached down and grabbed her arm, but she slapped my hand away.

  “We’re in danger, Jess. Please trust me. Stand up!”

  “Oh, I get it. This is another one of your delusions.”

  It was closing in. Regret, a few feet away. Its comatose eyes feasting on Jess. It circled us, hissing, fangs exposed. I flung myself on top
of her.

  “What are you doing?”

  I was smothering her, sheltering her from the breeze and pine trees as far as she was concerned.

  Regret stopped and lowered to the ground behind Jess.

  “Leave her alone!” Why did I bother?

  “Stop it, Owen. You’re freaking me out.” She elbowed me in the chest. “Get off me.”

  “You don’t understand.” All I could do was hold her and watch the rancid thing extend its wrist into her newest cuff.

  But it suddenly pulled back. Then ran.

  What the—?

  I turned my head. “Ray Anne.”

  She stood at the edge of my driveway, mouth open, keys in hand. “I . . . I thought I’d come by since . . .”

  “Since we’re going to the mall.”

  I peeled my arms off Jess, who stood and made a puckered-lipped face. “He’s with me right now, so . . .”

  “Right.” Ray Anne backed away, then hurried to her car.

  “Wait. Don’t go.”

  But she started her car and pulled away.

  “What did she want?” Jess said. More like whined.

  “Don’t be rude. She just helped you.”

  That went over her head, like I knew it would. She grabbed my hands and pulled, wanting me to hug her. But I stood stiff.

  I’d just hurt Ray Anne.

  I had to make things right.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I DROVE TO RAY ANNE’S HOUSE, but her mom politely told me she was taking a break from company. We both knew that meant me.

  “Can you please give her this?” I handed Mrs. Greiner a garment bag with the red-sequined dress inside. “I think it’s the right size.”

  “Let me reimburse you.”

  “No, I want to do this.” I’d dipped into the savings account my mom said was for emergencies. It felt like an emergency to me.

  Meagan’s house was in the back of Ray Anne’s neighborhood. I drove up as the sun was setting and knocked on her door. A stubby ceramic gnome stared up at me from the overgrown flower bed, all chubby cheeks and a sneaky grin. I tipped it over with my foot.

  Meagan answered but barely opened the door.

  “Hey. You have a minute?”

  A nod.