I buckled as I navigated the visitor lot. In the distance, sirens blared, but I didn’t worry about them. I needed to get Gran as far away as from that thing as possible. Whatever that thing was, it could possess anyone. What would it do to her?
Shaking with fear, I controlled my use of the gas pedal when I really wanted to floor it. Unsure how the thing traveled, I took an indirect way home, winding through back roads until I felt certain no one followed. Grandma said nothing. When I glanced over, I saw her gripping her purse straps tightly and eased off the gas I’d begun to liberally use as we put distance between us and whatever hurt Clavin. At least I knew she wasn’t possessed.
Slowly, the shaking eased and the sweat dried. With an hour of daylight to spare, I headed home. As soon as I skidded to a stop in a cloud of cold dust in front of the house, the front door flew open. My mom walked down the steps with a scowl while I got out of the car.
“Inside,” I said without preamble, waving my mom toward the house while I moved around the car to help Grandma. She was out before I reached her.
“Excuse me?” Mom looked seriously pissed.
I didn’t stop to argue with her. Didn’t need to.
Grandma piped up with a sharp, “In,” and beat me to the door.
Mom trailed us both closing the door behind us. Inside, boxes partially covered the table and lined the wall. Many of the cupboards stood open in various states of emptiness. The small things like throw pillows, pictures, nick-knacks no longer decorated the living room. Aunt Danielle sat in her chair with her eyes closed.
“What on earth is going on, Tessa? You were driving like a maniac. That’s the only car we have.”
“Sorry, mom,” I mumbled letting my bag slid to the floor as I dropped into a kitchen chair. I’d thought the shaking finished but now safe at home it reclaimed me. I leaned forward bracing my elbows on my quaking knees and rested my head in my hands.
The silence cocooned me giving me a moment to think. Inside before dark. Sleep until seven. Move often. Pick a boy before my seventeenth birthday. Have a baby, or babies, young. Watch my husband die prematurely.
Gently, I felt my cheek, its steady throb finally penetrating my shock.
What happens if I’m out after dark? Something finds me, starts to talk to me through other people.
My hand shook so bad I hurt my own cheek. My mind continued to race.
What did it want? Could it find me here? Why was it out during the day? I thought I was safe during the day. What was the point of knocking me out each night?
“Baby?”
I raised my head at the gentle touch on my shoulder. My mom stood beside me looking down with concern.
“Please. What happened?” she asked all anger absent from her expression.
Straightening I looked at Gran who sat nearby and Aunt Grace who had just walked into the room. They all waited, watching me. Unsure of what Gran already told them, I started with what I knew.
“When I was running for the door yesterday, it wasn’t just because of sunset. I heard something behind me. Gran says you didn’t see it, but when I turned to look back, I saw it. It had horns on each side of its head, dark shifting skin like black smoke and glowing green eyes.”
No one said anything, but I saw fear in each of their faces. I swallowed hard around my own fear.
“Today at school, something took over Mr. Jameson’s body.” My hand drifted to my cheek as I remembered its touch. “It wanted to know who bruised me. Before I could say anything another teacher approached and it released Mr. Jameson. I watched for it after that, but didn’t see it again until the end of the day when it took over Mrs. Wrightly while she walked me to the door. Clavin came up to us…” my voice cracked as I relived the terror.
“It asked if he was the one who bruised me. Clavin tried saying it was an accident. I saw it jump from Mrs. Wrightly to Clavin. Then it walked Clavin into a car after saying he needed to atone for misdeeds.” I took a deep breath and finished on a whisper, “I think it hurt Clavin because Clavin hurt me.”
My mom sat heavily in a chair near mine and whispered a denial.
“What is it?” I asked looking at Gran.
Aunt Danielle answered, “It’s what we hide from, obviously.” Her peacefully closed eyes belied her awareness.
We all watched her for a moment waiting for more, but she said nothing.
“Well, we have a lot of packing to do.” Mom stood, wiped her hands nervously on her faded jeans and viewed the enormity of our task before moving toward the dishes. She took a piece of newspaper from the pile on the table and moved to the miss-matched glasses on the counter. When she reached for a glass, her fingers brushed its neighbor nudging it off the edge. I watched it drop to the floor. The tinkling shatter sounded anticlimactic to me. Given my day, it should have been more of an explosion.
Staring at the sparkling splinters dusting the floor, I thought of birthday candles and wondered if I’d make it another five months.
Chapter 3