Ty laughs. Where is she?
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I throw the knife across the room and wipe my hands on the bed. I examine them. Still coated in red. No, not red. Stop thinking of it as a color, you fucking jack-off. It’s blood. Stained from fingertips to elbow. Innocent blood.
I manage to gain my feet, but I still have to lean against the bed. There’s a brand-new bottle of whiskey on the end table, glowing with the light of the only remaining lamp. I stumble for it, but before I can grab it, Ty steps in out of nowhere and snatches it away. I swipe at her, but she slips away and vanishes into the shadows. The bottle falls from where her hand was and breaks against the corner of the bed frame.
“Bitch!” I shout.
“Coward!” Ty retorts.
It sounds like she’s behind me, but when I turn, she’s not there.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Louder and clearer this time, I’m all but certain it’s coming from the bathroom. And I’m growing less and less certain I left a dead body in there.
“Tick, tick,” Ty says from behind me.
I don’t bother turning. She’ll be gone before I can catch sight of her. I keep my eyes locked on the bathroom door.
“Tick, tick, I said,” Ty continues, her breath on my ear, her fingers crawling over my shoulders.
“Shut up,” I say. “There’s something there.” I don’t mean in the bathroom, but buried in the sounds. The tapping and the clicking and the fucking ticking. There’s something there. Something the sounds are hiding.
I am…
The voice!
“Tick, tick,” Ty says.
With sick desperation, I spin and punch. My knuckles catch Ty in the face and send her hurtling into the far wall like she’s been shot out of a cannon. The walls shake at the impact, threatening collapse.
Ty slumps to the floor, battered, bleeding, and twitching. Her head hangs to one side, draining blood onto the carpet. Cuts line her arms and legs, some open to the bone.
Seething, I stalk toward her. As I do, her arms wrench over her head and pin themselves to the wall. Her ankles clack together and her whole body straightens, as if held to the wall by tightly wrapped duct tape.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I walk past Ty as she coughs on her own blood. I’m done with her.
Tap. Tap. I am… Tap.
“What do you want?” I scream at the door. I don’t dare touch it, for fear of what I may unleash.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
That fucking clock. I turn to the rest of the room. Ty’s body is gone, and it’s just as well. I don’t need the distraction of a rotting corpse.
Tick. Tick. I am… Tick.
There’s a clock radio on the bedside table. It’s digital, but I rip it from the wall anyway and batter it against the end table until it falls into a dozen pieces. Some cut my hand, but what’s a little of my own blood mixed with that of my victims’?
Click.
I start and almost fall back onto the bed.
Click.
I never did find the lighter I used.
Click.
From the bathroom, again. I run at the door and pound on it.
“What do you want?!”
I am… Click.
“I am what?” I shout. “Tell me! What am I?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I straighten. The sound didn’t come from the bathroom this time. And the sound of it is all wrong.
I slowly spin around. The front door to room thirteen of the Regency Motel is wide open. And standing in the doorway, against a backdrop of pouring rain, is Joy.
“Where’s Aza?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The wind at Joy’s back picks up and water sluices into the room, soaking into the carpet. It will never be enough to get the blood out.
I step away from the bathroom door and circle around the bed. Lightning flashes, but it’s far less menacing than the woman staring at me.
Joy takes a single step into the room. As her foot touches carpet, the room shifts like a ship at sea. I fall onto the bed, but manage to twist and make it seem like I chose to sit down.
“Where’s Aza?” Joy demands. Her eyes haven’t left me since she appeared.
Another step toward me and the room shakes. A cheap piece of wall art drops, glass face shattering and falling like sand. A third step from Joy and a section of ceiling in the far corner crumbles, plaster dust creating a fog to disguise the destruction.
I lunge up from the bed and grab Joy by the shoulders. “Stop moving!” I shout at her.
Joy fights back. “What did you do to her?! What did you do?!”
Her words echo in my head, mixed with thunder and that fucking clock. I shake her into silence. The storm persists. As does the clock. I’m almost out of time. I feel it now.
Joy stops squirming, but her face is pinched into a mask of rage. “I only came for Aza. Where is she? What did you do?”
Every time she says Aza’s name, a flash of pain races from one ear to the other, cutting through my mind like a hot brand and leaving me breathless and disoriented.
A cooling sensation spreads over my shoulders and creeps up my neck, battling against a building headache. Joy’s hands are locked around my elbows, but new hands creep along my spine. I’d be repulsed if I didn’t need her so badly.
“You know, she probably brought the cops with her. Stupid bitch. Not sure I feel as sorry for her anymore.” Beyond Ty’s words and touch, I smell her return, drifting over me like smoke. It’s equal parts perfume and musk, mixed with the fetid smell of decay.
I push Joy away. She falls on the floor and almost flips over backward right out the open door. “This is a trap!” I say, pointing a finger at her.
Joy recovers quickly and jumps to her feet. She rubs at her arms where I had grabbed her. I want this moment with her. I need it. But I won’t be carried away in cuffs. I won’t have anyone interfere. I can’t get out alive.
“I just want Aza,” Joy says. “The cops don’t know I’m here. But that won’t last long. Once they know I slipped out, I’m sure they’ll track my phone. It was a long drive. They probably have already. You’ll hear sirens any minute.”
As she speaks, I hear them. Sirens.
I run at Joy and she jumps to the side, but I’m not rushing for her. I stand outside the motel room, searching the street, trying to locate the sound. Joy grabs my arm and pulls me roughly back into room thirteen. Immediately, the sirens vanish. Ty steps out of the closet in the corner of the room and runs the tip of her finger around her ear.
“It was the siren,” I say, piecing together my words as the memory falls back into place. It’s still jumbled, too distorted to properly see. “I couldn’t make it stop. It got louder and louder. Made me dizzy, disoriented.”
I know Joy didn’t mean to, but her simple words have put me back into the driver’s seat of my old ambulance. We didn’t have much time. The patient in the back was coding. But that fucking siren… It just kept getting louder and louder.
Joy says something. I flinch and slap her hand away from me as I back up toward the bed, keeping her between the door and myself.
“I couldn’t explain why I lost control. They wouldn’t have understood. But they blamed me for that guy’s death.”
“Where’s Aza?” Joy asks firmly.
I look over her shoulder, trying to catch some glint of red and blue in the pouring rain. But the sirens I heard are gone, just a wisp of a long-dead memory. The past doesn’t matter. Neither does the future. Ty taught me this much.
“Give me your phone,” I say, holding out my hand.
Joy doesn’t argue and pulls it out of her back pocket. She tosses it at me. “All I care about is getting Aza back. That’s it.”
“Bitch is crazy,” Ty says. She moves closer and leans on the dresser, within reach of Joy.
“Shut the fuck up,” I shout at her.
I fumble with the phone, but manage to turn the screen on. The most
recent text message is still pulled up. It’s from Paul.
Regency Motel. Room 13. And, for fuck’s sake, come alone.
I shake my head and read it again.
“How did she know?” I ask.
“Just tell me where she is,” Joy says. The room trembles as she steps toward me. I wish she’d stop doing that.
I back away until my legs are against the bed. I face Joy and hold the phone up, screen facing her. “What is this?”
“It’s from my dad’s old phone, but it’s Aza. Or at least, I hope it is. Please, tell me where she is.”
“Aza? She’s not here! This isn’t about her.”
Ty circles around behind Joy as she draws closer to me. I never give Joy enough credit. She’s fearless.
“What did you do to her? If you wanted me alone… If that’s all this is… Finishing what you started with that fire… It doesn’t need to involve her. She’s just a kid, for God’s sake. What have you done?”
Tap. Finish this. Tap. Tap.
I grab my head and try to squeeze the voice out. Joy steps to the side, away from me. Her eyes dart around the room.
“Is she here?” Joy asks, moving past me.
I turn, still fighting to make sense of the voice. Trying to decide if I want to understand it.
“Aza?” Joy calls as she rounds the corner of the bed and heads for the bathroom.
“No!” I shout. I can’t let her see until I’ve explained.
Joy pauses for a moment and it’s enough time for me to vault over the bed and force my way in between Joy and the door.
Tap. Tap. End it. Tap.
“Shut up!” I shout at the door. I pound on it.
Ty climbs onto the bed and begins bouncing. She looks like a corpse, forged in the final moments of our relationship. Her arms slap loosely around her broken body. Blood spins off her with each jump. Joy doesn’t seem to notice.
Joy pushes against me, fighting for position. “What did you do? Aza? Aza!”
She tries to reach for the handle, but I grab her arm and spin her away from me. Joy bumps into the bed, falters, but comes at me again. She slams into my chest, clawing, punching, pulling.
I try to grab her flailing arms. I try to keep her from even touching the door.
“Aza! Aza!” Joy screams.
A brilliant flash of lightning draws my attention away from Joy for a moment. The sudden light illuminates Ty. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, twirling a pair of handcuffs. One of her eyes is swollen shut, but the other fixes on me. She smiles a toothless smile.
“Let me explain!” I scream against Joy’s continued assault.
Joy keeps screaming our daughter’s name.
Tap. Tap. Tap. You know. Tap. Tap. I know. Tap. I am…
I push off the door and tackle Joy into Ty’s waiting arms. Together, the three of us roll across the bed in a desperate mass of flailing appendages. I see little but blurs of color. When all you feel is pain, it feels as if you have nothing.
We hit the floor on the other side. The impact jars the colors back into comprehensible shapes. Joy has managed to land on top of me and she tries to extricate herself in the momentary lapse of my grip. But Ty is there as well, and a hand of broken fingers grabs Joy’s leg and drops her to the floor. I grab her other leg and climb up her back, keeping as much of my weight on her as possible. Joy claws at the carpet, she kicks at my face.
“She’s a squirmy little bitch, isn’t she?” Ty asks.
Joy reaches over her shoulder and grabs a fistful of my hair. She’s still screaming, though it’s more inarticulate now.
“She’s going to wake the whole goddamn city,” Ty says.
Joy yanks and knocks my head against the bed frame. The strike, combined with the flashing lightning, is dizzying. A gust of wind kicks up enough to send rain into the room. The carpet is entirely ruined, stained with blood, rain, and liquor. I don’t know why it bothers me.
“Focus,” Ty shouts, slapping me upside the head.
I twist and break free from Joy’s hold on my hair. She bucks and sends me toppling off her. I claw for her ankle and only just manage to snare it before she gets away from me.
“This bitch is going to kick your ass and ruin everything,” Ty says.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Shut the fuck up and help, then,” I scream over Joy’s shrieks and the concussions of the unrelenting storm.
Joy spins around and kicks me in the face. It stuns me and takes the life from my limbs. Joy pulls at the bed, clearly still destined for the bathroom door.
Tap. Tap.
“What’s the magic word?” Ty asks.
“Please! Fucking please!”
Joy screams and the sound of something heavy striking the motel room wall dwarfs the preceding thunderclap. Joy lands hard on the floor next to me, her eyes crossed and dazed. Ty slides over the corner of the bed and falls on both of us, her brutalized face right between Joy and I.
“I think you two have a lot to talk about,” Ty says. I hear the snap of handcuffs. “There. That was fairly menacing, if not wholly original, right?”
Ty pushes off my chest and stands back, surveying Joy and I. She’s managed to cuff my wrist to Joy’s, linked through the bed frame, restraining us both.
Ty winks at me—or at least I think that’s what she meant to do. Without a word further, she spins around and marches out of the room, fueled by a gust of wind that slams the door shut behind her. It bounces off the frame but remains mostly closed.
It muffles the storm, and without Joy screaming, it’s oddly peaceful. I’d be a fool to think anything has been solved, but even a moment of relief is a godsend. I can finally catch my breath and begin to unravel the knot of thoughts in my head.
Joy stirs at my side. I sit up as much as I can with my hand locked to the corner post of the bed frame. Still on her back, Joy looks up at me, blinking.
“It helps. Having you here,” I say.
Joy blinks several more times before shifting and noticing her cuffed wrist. She yanks violently on it, pulling my wrist against the cold metal. She thrashes around like a hooked fish.
Softly, I say her name until she stops fighting. Gasping, she moves into a sitting position and pulls her knees to her chest, trying to keep as far away from me as possible.
“Where’s Aza?” Joy asks quietly. She looks at me, the tears lining her eyes ready to fall.
“I don’t know.”
“Liar,” Joy says, turning from me. “I told you, do whatever you want to me, but Aza’s just a kid. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“Neither do you,” I say.
Joy wipes at her eyes and turns back to me. I’ve never seen her in such anguish. “Then why?”
It’s my turn to look away.
The distant echo of the lighter clicking ripples through my mind. I waggle a finger in my ear. An old habit, so difficult to break.
“The sounds are back, aren’t they?” Joy asks. Her voice is the softest it’s been since she stepped into this dingy motel room. “They’ve been back for a while, haven’t they?
“You know about the things I hear?”
“Of course,” Joy says. I hear her shift and turn to find she’s shuffled closer to me. “I’ve always known. I thought… I thought we were getting past it. I didn’t know that they’d come back. Why didn’t you tell me your meds weren’t working anymore?”
“Meds?”
Joy covers her mouth with her free hand. The tears, held so precariously on the edge of her lashes, break free. It hurts to see her cry. Actual, physical pain.
“I don’t remember…” I say.
Joy nods. “I should have paid more attention to it.”
“What? No. This isn’t your fault.” I glance at the wall shared by room twelve and have to remind myself that I can’t trust my own memories.
“Did…”
I wait for Joy to finish her thought, but she doesn’t. Instead, she continues to stare at me like I’m a st
ranger, but there’s genuine concern in her eyes. It’s a look I don’t deserve.
“I meant what I said about it being better now that you’re here. I know it doesn’t change anything, but it makes me feel… I don’t know…slightly less insane.”
“You’re not insane,” Joy says quickly.
I gesture around the room, but as I do, I notice the blood stains are gone.
“I don’t know what’s real,” I say.
“I’m real,” Joy says. “And Aza’s real. That’s what matters.”
I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Joy’s cuffed hand finds mine and presses it against the bed frame, stilling it between cold metal and warm flesh.
“I need to know what’s real,” I say. “I want to know what I did. None of it makes sense anymore.”
Joy takes a deep breath and she wipes at her eyes again. “There’s evidence that you set the fire.”
I nod.
“Why?”
I shudder, but Joy grabs my chin and forces me to look at her. Her touch grounds me. It won’t let me hide in lies and denial. What I wouldn’t give to fall back into the last week with her.
“I set our house on fire to watch you burn,” I say.
Joy’s gaze wavers and she pulls her hand back. But she retreats no further.
“And Aza? She’s your daughter. How could you?”
“She wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Joy looks at me, tears freely flowing now. “Do you hate me that much?”
Instinctively, I reach for her, but stop as she flinches and pulls against her bonds. I let my hand fall empty. “I thought you…” Once more, I look at the wall shared by room twelve. I still hear the sound of flesh on flesh and the orgasmic shrieks of a woman in the thralls of unrestrained pleasure. I want so badly to believe Joy is the monster.
“Is… What about Ty?” I ask. I know I’m avoiding her question, but I can’t get the image of Ty’s battered face from my mind.
“They say… She’s dead.”
I nod dumbly.
“I know what she and I… I can’t remember the real Ty.”
“Did you…?” Joy asks.
“I thought… I thought she was someone else.”
Joy heaves and turns away from me to vomit on the carpet. After a series of coughs, she collects herself and sits up. She’s staring at the wall, eyes glazed over.
House of Sand: A Dark Psychological Thriller Page 20