Tiny slid down the seat, grabbing my arm, and dragging me out in the process. The breeze
as I stepped out of the car chilled me to the bone. My face, hair, and clothes were still
drenched with my tears.
Spider opened his door and peered at me without getting out of his seat. “We’ll have your
things delivered to you,” he said in a businesslike manner, like nothing had ever happened.
“Keep your mouth shut and stay away from us.”
I had expected him to threaten me profusely, like maybe dragging his index finger along his
throat or pointing a fingered gun at his head, pulling the thumbed trigger. But there was none
of that. They left without another thought. I stood on the sidewalk shivering, watching them
drive away.
Chapter Thirty:
Passing on the Crazy Torch
It was a while before I could muster up the courage to walk up the walkway that led to the
house. For the longest time, I was a statue on the sidewalk, afraid of what I was going to find
beyond. After being plucked out of my former life and thrown into someone else’s reality, after
making that reality mine, going back to normal was an impossible option. Though I still had no
idea what normal meant.
There was an old lady in our neighborhood who spent her days pushing her rickety walker forward
while mumbling to herself and making her rounds around the same block. She did this every day,
like clockwork. She had become the local legend with my roommates. Rumors about her past were
conjured up over bottles of beer and pizza boxes. The better story was the one where she was
hunting for stray cats and hiding them under her flowered muumuu. She would take them home and
train them for the day when she was going to take over the neighborhood, but first sent them
back into the world to await the hiss of her orders. The sleeper-cell cats got fat off our
garbage in the meantime.
When the crazy lady passed by me today, she looked at me like I was the crazy one. She wasn’t
far off target. I wondered what gossip would be made up to account for my madness. Whatever the
stories were going to be, I was sure the red hair would make them all the more imaginative. The
lady’s glance at my expense had been meaningful, but swift. She went back to her psychobabble
and pretended I was never there. People in these parts were ingrained to keep to themselves,
lest they be dragged into their neighbor’s misery. They had enough of their own troubles.
By the time I decided to move forward, the lady had already inched her way down my street and
disappeared around the corner. Holding my breath with dread, I turned the doorknob and pushed on
the front door, almost wishing that it would be locked. It wasn’t.
Walking into the house felt like I was walking into a sarcophagus. The dusty curtains were
pulled shut, casting an eerie shadow on the mismatched furniture, and the air was stifling. The
house was as dead as I felt. This was a slight comfort to me. When I heard the sound of kids
playing somewhere outside, I slammed the door behind me, shutting out all signs of life.
I stood in the darkened entryway, unsure if I was going to fall down crying, start screaming at
the top of my lungs, or both. I did neither. The only thing I wanted to do was get Victor’s
spit off my skin, as if his touch had left behind his microscopic bugs to crawl and find refuge
within my pores. I robotically went upstairs to draw a bath, not even bothering to touch the
cold water faucet. I would burn him off me.
The washroom quickly filled with steam. Water droplets from the rolling vapor attached
themselves to all surfaces, like the first snowfall of the season. I was now free to roam about
the bathroom without fear of catching a glimpse of myself in the fogged mirror. When I got
undressed, that’s when I spotted it: all the blood. My hands and forearms, which had grabbed
onto to him as I begged him to fight for us, were covered in Cameron’s blood. And while I had
leaned over him and he had looked up at the ceiling with defeat, my kneecaps had also been
doused in his blood.
Water was raging up to the surface.
With my hands shaking, I hurriedly took my clothes off and stepped into the tub before I could
fall apart. I sat in the water, barely feeling the burn against my skin. I was careful to tuck
my knees into my chest so that my hands and knees stayed out of the water. The red stains on my
skin were a reminder of everything I had lost.
I was rocking back and forth, numbed, staring at the palms of my hands while tears washed my
face.
This, his blood, was all I had left of him …