Chapter 52: 62. Wake up…

Pak

(Real Again)

 

Disappearing was painful. Coming back is so much worse.

All at once, the smell assaults me – wine, sweat, mold, dust, spit, blood, piss, perfume, centuries of it, dried up, caked on, buried under, shaken loose, crowding me like a cloud of gnats. My nose burns. My stomach churns. It was so quiet before, but now, the breathing, sniffing, and gasping, the wind, the floor and the bed creaking, the bugs crawling, buzzing, humming, my blood rushing, throbbing, pulsing – it hurts so much. The trickle of light from the moon blinds me, spearing straight through my skull. Why do I have to be so sensitive? I can’t think, I can’t breathe, it hurts so much, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t – I want to go back – I want to go back…

I send the knife away – please take me with you – But it won’t let me. I cower and weep, empty-handed and alone, silently bathing in the sludge of my senses, the sludge of the corporeal world.

 

Time passes… I don’t know how long. My breathing eventually settles. I open my eyes. The path of light is gone.

Grandmother’s head rests on the tear-soaked pillow. She’s asleep, curled up like a baby, squeezing Boog between her knees and chest. She’s so small. The skin around her eyes shines red, swollen, veins pulsing unsteady and slow. Her eyelashes are crusty from crying and oozing, the same crust on her nose and her lips. Her hair is silver and brittle, as if it could be swept away with a stiff broom. Her skin is graying, like white wood turning to ash, barely smoldering, just waiting to be stomped away.

“G—”

I choke.

 

Don’t…

 

I flinch at the strange, childish voice. It’s right. I’m weak. I’m useless. I squeak a tiny, pitiful squeak, squeeze my eyes shut, and clasp my hand over my mouth.

 

You’re gonna make her mad…

 

“W—”

I suck the word back in. My eyes skim the insides of their lids, back and forth, back and forth…

 

Please don’t wake her up…

 

I bite my knuckles. She’s still asleep.

 

you have to wake her if you want to talk

 

My hand floats forward, and my eyes part just wide enough to see her twitch. I hesitate. The skin on my neck prickles. My arm aches. My fingers graze the surface of her nightgown. I bite my lip, halt my breathing. My eyes feel like sand.

 

I’m scared…

 

I prod her shoulder. She shifts. I freeze. The covers swish. I hold my breath. She groans.

“Wake up…”

The weak voice escapes my throat, and Grandmother finally stirs.

Her eyes flutter open. I can see my reflection on their glossy surface, as clearly as if I were looking in a mirror. She blinks the sleep away… And her pupils collapse into pinpoints.

The wrinkles around her eyelids cut through the puffy pink flesh, and she squints, like she wants to shut her eyes, but she can’t. She gasps, squeezing Boog tight.

“Are you a ghost?” she whispers.

I pause.

“I don’t think so…”

 

Not yet.

 

I flinch at the voice. It isn’t her, but it sounds so much like her. Her eyes’ surfaces harden, like paint meeting air, and her lip curls into a sneer.

“What happened to your face?” she mumbles, the stink of wine wafting from her breath. I blink. My right eyelid drags a little.

“Someone burned it,” I say.

“Why did you come here?” she says, teetering upright from her fetal curl, eyes narrowed on me.

My heart sputters to life. Her gaze feels like hands around my throat, choking me.

“I—”

I squeak. Her wrinkles deepen and stretch, like cracks on an icy lake.

“I just—”

Her face twists, nostrils flaring like a bull. It’s the same face she used to make when I would cry as a child, and it always made me want to cry more. She releases her grip on the little stuffed dog. The weapon screams in my ears—

 

BADUMBADUMBADUMBADUM

 

“Say it.”

I stagger back, clenching my fists. Just say it. Just say it. Just say it. I punch my thigh and bite my cheek until it bleeds. What is wrong with you? Say something! The words are there – I know they’re there, stuck behind the folds of my throat. Just say it. Just say it! SAY SOMETHING, YOU STUPID IDIOT!

The weak voice whispers in my ear—

You are reading story The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) at novel35.com

 

I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I’m sorry —

 

—as Grandmother’s shadow swallows me.

 

SAY IT!

 

Inside my head, the scene plays out, as if I were watching from somewhere outside my body:

 

A monster lurks inside his mother’s room.

So many teeth, so many claws…

He stays quiet. He’s not allowed to scream.

He’s not allowed to make any sound at all.

 

CRACK—

I hear her palm strike my face before I feel its sting. I whimper and scramble away, rumpling the fluffy white rug.

“SAY IT.”

I cower into the wall and hide my face in the corner. My jaw quivers, words split by incoherent gurgling.

“I j-just want to u-understand…”

“Understand what?” she hisses.

I flinch. She hasn’t moved, but the sound of her voice is enough.

 

she’s just a barking dog with no teeth

 

I wipe my nose on my arm, leaving a red trail on my bruised gray skin. My chest swells, shudders and deflates, like I’m breathing my last breaths.

“B-but I like dogs…”

“What did you say?” she growls. The bed creaks beneath her as she puffs herself up and leans forward. Boog rolls off of the covers, landing on the floor with a gentle pfth.

 

why are you afraid of her?

 

I wince. My eyes flicker between her and the window.

“’Cause she—”

“SPEAK UP!”

She pounces, heels pounding the floor, rattling the frame of this room. I yelp and crumple to my side, shielding my head with my arms.

 

it’s okay

keep talking

 

“Sh-she h-h-hates me and I d-don’t know—”

I gasp for air and squeeze my eyes shut. In this darkness, I can pretend…

 

it’s just you and me right now

 

“Sh-she m-made me s-say…”

I brace for a kick, a punch, a slap, an elbow, a knee, a flash of fire. My lungs refuse to retain any air.

“Made me s-say that I… Th-that I…”

I shudder into a pitiful sob. I can’t bear to finish the thought. The words gurgle against my teeth, caught by a web of slobber and tears.

“K… killed…”

She never told me how I did it. It never made sense. She said I killed her, she made me admit to it, but she never told me how…

“WHAT DID I DO?”

The question erupts from my chest without warning.

“I d-didn’t mean it – I d-didn’t…!”

I wail and pound my fists, drooling, possessed by the ghost of some terrified kid.

Why am I like this? I’m grown… I shouldn’t be like this. I heave and convulse until I collapse, just a limp body on the floor.

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