Don't Write it Down (Rainbow Noir, #1)

by C. E. Wilson

  I didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing.

  I hadn’t spoken to my mother since that day. She never called. My phone wasn’t on all the time, sure. And I often wiped the call history without looking at it, yes. But I was sure she hadn’t called. I knew she wouldn’t. She never did. She never would. Dad’s death may as well been the death of us interacting. She never liked me anyway. Never respected me. The only thing of note I ever accomplished in her opinion was marrying a fine handsome normal boy like Kevin. And he was an annoying idiot.

  I didn’t need him.

  I didn’t need anyone.

  “I still think it’s a bad idea to kill off a famous author in one of your books, Emma,” he said from behind me.

  “Your opinion has always held so much weight with me – you know that,” I stated in a dry and overly sarcastic tone so he wouldn’t misread anything. He yawned behind me, and the sound was like ants crawling up my back at the park – sand between my toes when I couldn’t take off my shoes. It just grated me. I ground my teeth.

  “You mind if I take a nap on the bed?”

  I shuddered, wiggling my toes in my ratty slippers. They were slick with stale sweat, but I could practically feel the sand scraping my toes in between. “Yes, I do mind. There’s a couch in the living room.”

  “I don’t want to sleep on the sofa. You’re not even using the bed.”

  “The couch. And if it’s not good enough for you, then you can go back to your own place.”

  “Maybe I will,” he said, rising to a standing position. “I can’t believe you’re turning into this person again.”

  “I was never not this person,” I reminded him, still clicking away.

  His voice shifted to something gentler. Softer. More patient. I hated it. “You’re getting worse. Maybe we should talk about getting you back on your meds—”

  “We?” I stopped typing with overwhelming annoyance. “There is no we. You sleep here. You eat here. And God, if you want you can cook or clean here. But you are not going to tell me what medicine goes in my body and what we need to do. And if you can’t handle that, Kevin, maybe I’ll put you out of your misery in my next book.” I laughed at the idea of it, half-wondering if such a crazy idea shouldn’t worry me. Nah. I looked up at him with a glint in my eyes. “And trust me, Kevin. You don’t want me to do that.” I waved my fingers around. “I have powers.” I laughed like a maniac as Kevin took a step towards the door.

  “You do get crazy when you’re writing, but this is bad even for you.”

  “You better be careful,” I said in a sing-song voice, waving my fingers at him as he went to the door. “Or I’ll kill youuu...”

  The door shut.

  He was gone.

  Back to work.

  ***

  Staying at the top was almost too easy now. Another book, another number one bestseller.

  And yet, I wasn’t happy. Not really. Not completely. There was something unsatisfactory about being number one. Maybe it was that my father was dead. Maybe it was that my mother was still disappointed in me – disappointed enough that she couldn’t even bring herself to tell me that my father was dead until almost a week later. Maybe it was the fact that even when I screamed out for Jessen Blake in my dreams he never showed up. No one showed up lately. My dreams were empty, listless places filled with vibrant colors and pungent smells.

  Example: a unicorn was bleeding to death in one of the paintings I found an old Hollywood mansion. Rainbow dripped down to the carpet and formed a giant whirlpool, sucking everything into its beautiful abyss. I ran from that room. The colors didn’t match up to the smell. None of my dreams did.

  I scrolled lazily on my phone and stared at the screen of the New York Times Bestsellers. There was little joy in being number one. I had killed Jessen Blake – of course, the editors had changed his name – and it had worked like a charm. His estate had released a book to challenge mine, but it had peaked at number five. I should have been happy. I should have been nervous. I should have felt something other than indifference. Dreams of unicorns bleeding rainbows were beginning to intrude into my writing trance. That was my sanctum, just me and my story. Dreams shouldn’t be there. I could feel my eyes darting back and forth as though trying to find purchase between reality and dreams.

  Someone was constantly watching me.

  Was someone creeping on my doorstep, or had Jessen Blake come back from beyond the grave to claim what was probably most deservingly his?

  Minimizing the screen, I checked the date and time.

  It was Friday. Almost six in the evening. I was awake. I was bored. I was lonely.

  The walls were bleeding. I wasn’t dreaming. Or was I?

  Someone knocked on the door.

  My eyes widened with surprise, and I pulled my laptop away so the dripping paint from the ceiling wouldn’t land on the screen and set it in the kitchen before I went to answer the door. My clothes hung off my body – my days of being chubby had passed. My bare feet shuffled to the door, and I opened it without checking who it was first.

  “Hey.”

  I scowled. “You have a key,” I said, turning away and shuffling back into the kitchen for a drink. Kevin followed me after closing the door behind him, and I grabbed one of my cleaner coffee mugs and filled it with vodka and ice. “You want a drink?”

  “No, actually,” he said, taking a seat at the counter. “Are you drunk now?”

  “No.” I held up the mug towards him with a smile. “But I plan to be.”

  “You look a little drunk.”

  “I haven’t had a drink all day,” I said a bit proudly as I took a long pull from the mug. “I’ll make up for lost time.”

  “You seem kinda nuts,” Kevin said, tilting his head at me as I began to pace the length of the kitchen. I could feel those judgmental eyes of his, watching me closely and waiting for me to fail or fall. I wasn’t even sure which. “I picked up your medication while I was at the pharmacy today. Just in case you wanted to have it.”

  I stopped pacing. “How? How did you get it?”

  “I’m your husband, remember?”

  “So why did you knock on my door?”

  “Because you stole my key a few days ago when I was pissing.” He frowned. “I tried to get it back from you, but you threatened to call the police, so I left. If you want to give it back to me, you can. I like having it, especially when you’re... difficult.”

  I sipped from my mug, searching my blurred memories of the past few weeks. I couldn’t remember him. I remembered unicorns. The blood. The death. The rainbows and the stench. “First of all, I never took your fucking key.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes. You did. A few days ago. I thought you were drunk, but I didn’t believe that you were that drunk, Emma. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I clutched my head. I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t figure out if Kevin or my memories were lying to me. What would Kevin have to gain by lying? What could I—

  “Take one of these,” Kevin said, unscrewing the bottle and holding out a circular pale yellow tablet. He didn’t even bother breaking it in two. I wondered if he would try to give me more if he could get me to take just one.

  I stared at those tablets. The one in Kevin’s palm grew a mouth that formed a mocking smirk. His smirk told me that once I took him, he’d ruin me. The eyes watching me grew heavier as Kevin lifted up his palm. The tablet seemed to be celebrating. It danced. It cackled. Those tablets would ruin me. I smacked his hand away.

  “I write about zombies, I don’t want to be one,” I said. “Those things make me act funny.”

  “You’re acting funny now.”

  “God, you sound just like my mom.”

  “Maybe that’s not a bad thing, Emma.” I glared at him. “Oh come on, you can’t possibly say that things aren’t a little weird for you. You think I don’t remember? I lived with you, Emma. I know how you get when you’re off your meds. And while you were doing a great job for a litt
le while, I think it’s time you go back on them. Your eyes are darting back and forth like you’re expecting someone to jump out and kill you.” As if to prove his point, he glanced at a spot over his shoulder. “And you keep looking past me. Do you see something?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Do you feel people staring at you again?”

  “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

  “You’re paranoid. These will help with that,” Kevin said, taking another pill out. “Take this and try to get some rest. We can think of what to do next tomorrow. But for now, please. Just try to get some sleep. It will help you more than you know.”

  “Don’t you tell me what’s right for me.” I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You have no idea what I’m going through right now. Not a fucking clue.”

  “So talk to me, Emma,” he crooned, rising from his seat. I slammed down the mug and backed away. “That’s what I’m here for. I know you. I understand how you get and I know what will help you feel better. If you’d just let me help you—”

  “My dad is dead. But you know that,” I snapped, fixing him with an icy glare. Recognition splattered across his dull features. “Who told you?”

  He frowned and lowered his gaze. “Your mom.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He took another step closer, and I backed into the refrigerator. “She asked me not to talk about it with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she knows how you get.”

  “I’m not getting anything! And it’s her fault I’m like this for not telling me.”

  This time Kevin was the one who frowned as his hands lowered to his side. “Now come on, you and I both know that’s not true. She tried calling you every day. Several times, every day as a matter of fact. That’s why she always has to call me.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “I checked your phone, Emma.” Kevin shook his head. “I checked your phone. She called. She messaged. She left emails and messages and texts. You ignored every single one of them. You probably didn’t want to know, and so I didn’t tell you. Your mother was worried you would snap, so once she finally got hold of you, she called me and said not to bring it up unless you did first.”

  “But you knew the entire time?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose so. I asked her to let me tell you, but she said no. She insisted that it had to be her.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  “She was worried that you wouldn’t believe me.”

  I swallowed hard. She was certainly right about that. Hell, I still wasn’t sure if I really believed her. Had that really happened? I was losing track of dreams and reality. Maybe I was losing track of reality and dreams.

  “I just don’t understand you, Emma. Either of you. And while I didn’t necessarily agree with your mother’s decision not to tell you anything, I’m even more shocked that once you did know, that you didn’t feel the need to say anything to me.”

  “Maybe I just assumed you knew.”

  “He was your father,” he said helplessly. “Why wouldn’t you just pick up the phone? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Why do you build this wall around yourself?”

  “I don’t,” I growled, feeling a pain prickle against my right temple. I pinched it hard and gasped out. Kevin’s eyes widened. “Chill out; I’m not hurting myself. I have a headache. Not enough caffeine.”

  “Or maybe too much.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You need to stop convincing yourself that the world is against you, Emma. We’re here for you. Me and your mom, whether you want to believe it or not.”

  “I don’t believe it,” I said, growing angry. Kevin and my mom, teamed up to protect poor helpless Emma. “And I never took your keys.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s worse than I thought...”

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I snapped, slamming my fist against the refrigerator and storming past him. “And when I come out, I’d appreciate it if you weren’t here filling up my home with your lies. You’re crazy.”

  “You’re seriously paranoid,” he said weakly, wise enough not to reach out and grab my arm. “You always get like this right before you break down. And it’s bad this time, Emma. If you don’t let us help you, you may not be able to come back from it.”

  “You know what I can’t come back from?” I said, whirling around back to him. “My father is dead. I’m number one, and I feel nothing. You hear me? I FEEL NOTHING!” The words felt good to shout. “My father is dead, and I FEEL NOTHING. My mother hates me, and I FEEL NOTHING. And you say I’m going crazy. But you know what? I FEEL NOTHING!” Smiling triumphantly, I charged to the bathroom and slammed the door, backing up against it for a moment as I took in a few deep, trembling breaths. It felt good to say how numb I felt, but the truthfulness of my words washed over like a wave. I saw crimson borders at the edge of my vision.

  My hands started to shake as I took in a few more deep breaths. Maybe I could talk to Kevin if he hadn’t left yet. He was a good listener when he wasn’t banging high school girls behind my back. It might be good to talk about things. I’d just pretend that he was a loyal dog.

  I was resigning myself to a night with Kevin when I heard it. A faint sound at the edge of my hearing.

  The pill bottle. Tablets rattling.

  My hand trembled as I managed to open the door without a sound. I peeked out, and Kevin was still there, standing and hunched over my mug of vodka. His fingers were moving clumsily, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing. I recognized that pale yellow powder dusting his fingers from a mile away. The tablets tumbled into the mug, and he mixed it with one of his stubby fingers, licking it after he finished with a slight jolt.

  He reached for his phone in his pocket next, and his thumb flew across the keyboard.

  My eye twitched, and I pushed the door open further, eliciting a small crack of a sound and Judas spun around. And he fucking smiled.

  “You alright?”

  “I will be,” I said sweetly, with my most charming smile. “When you get the fuck out of my house.”

  “Let’s have a drink first, huh?” He tilted his head like a puppy dog and beckoned me closer. “I think you’re right. Maybe a little alcohol will help us both relax. I need to lighten up.”

  I emerged from the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Kevin flickered in the hallway as he continued to beckon me with the same finger he used to stir medicine into my drink. Medicine that turned off most of my brain. Medicine that would turn me into a lurching, boring zombie. But I managed to keep a smile on my face. I wouldn’t have to deal with him just yet.

  “How about I put something pretty on first?” I said, smoothing my wrinkled shirt. “Maybe we can just go out and get a drink.”

  “Naw. We can just drink here. Come on.” He rounded back to the kitchen and slid the cup of vodka in my direction. “You can’t get this kinda stuff out at the bars. You always have the best.”

  “It’s a forty dollar bottle of potato vodka,” I said, backing towards my room. “Just let me change. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Let’s stay here.”

  “A few minutes, babe?” I tacked on the last word, managing to hold back the vomit in my throat. Watching him lace my drink had changed something. My insides churned now when I looked at him. He probably texted my mom every day without telling me. Making up stories about me that they chuckled about together. None of it made sense. None of it made any fucking sense. But I managed to keep it together, sending a smile towards Kevin that he wouldn’t be able to resist. He probably liked the idea that I’d lost a little weight in my mania. I was utterly irresistible to him, and just as I expected, he turned all geeky and goofy.

  “Just don’t be long. Let’s celebrate, yes? A little drink? You and me? And how about a horror movie? Are you in the mood for anything special?”

 
“You decide,” I said sweetly. “I just... I want to take care of something first.” Something that would set my nerves at ease.

  “Take your time,” Kevin called, leaving the mug behind and crashing on my couch. He let out an unattractive OOMPH sound that made me want to pull his teeth out with my bare hands one by one, but instead, I went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  I fired up the laptop.

  I needed to get a few angry words out first.

  My next story would be called He Never Believed and the opening chapter would be the end. A stupid, nosy boyfriend is dying at the hands of the supernatural. It was a gruesome way to go, and once I started working on the story, I would make the main character less like my ex. For now, I wanted to pound out the anger into the keyboard. As an author, I always had to write something down when I was feeling it. And what I was feeling now was anger. Anger towards Kevin. Anger towards Kevin’s betrayal. Anger towards Kevin for working with my mother to turn me back into a zombie.

  I smiled... relieved that despite everything this book wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  I wouldn’t publish this one as is. I just wanted to get the words out. When an emotion boils up inside of me, I have to make sure to get the words down before they vanish. And just picturing Kevin sneaking those little pale yellow tablets into my vodka, in my home, with a smile on his face...

  My fingers flew over the keys, happy that I would still be able to create something new despite all this ridiculous shit with Kevin and my mother. I could still type. I could still create. I could still shock. Visions of writing the next Memento came to mind as I killed off Kevin in my story. I could be the next great original screenwriter. The hero dies at the beginning. Fuck! Maybe that was a better title.

  “Are you going to be much longer?” Kevin called from the living room.

  “Just putting my shoes on!” I called back with a smile, fingers flying over the keys. Killing the hero at the beginning. Classic. Or not so classic. I pushed my hair away from my face and made some notes with a pen and pad of paper next to the laptop so I would remember what to change when I started working on this tomorrow.

  Change male character to a woman. More female readers that way.