LA BAUME WAS MY FIRST HOME. I GUESS YOU COULD SAY THAT CATHERINE WAS MY FIRST “MOTHER.” IT MEANT A LOT TO ME, THIS PLACE. BUT NOW THERE’S NOTHING. MY HOPE IS GONE. AND I DON’T THINK THAT HELPS ANYTHING.
AND THEN THERE’S YOU.
YOU KEEP SENDING ME AWAY. BUT I WOULD KEEP TRYING TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU, THAT YOU CAN TRUST ME, THAT I ONLY WANT THE BEST FOR YOU. NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TOOK ME, I WOULD TRY.
BUT THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH DIRT A GUY CAN TAKE IN THE FACE, SILLA.
I WANT TO HELP YOU. I WANT TO BE WITH YOU. I WANT TO KISS YOUR LIPS AND SO MUCH MORE. THINGS I COULDN’T EVER WRITE DOWN. I WANT YOU TO COME WITH ME, FAR AWAY FROM HERE. I WANT YOU TO BRING NORI. BREAK THE CHAINS. TRUST IN ME.
BUT YOU’RE TIED DOWN TO THAT MANOR. I SEE IT. I FINALLY SEE IT. MAYBE I’M NOT ENOUGH. MAYBE I NEVER WAS.
I’M LIKE SOME KIND OF SHADOW IN YOUR WORLD. ONLY HALF-REAL. SOME KIND OF PROP. AND I’M HAPPY TO BE YOUR SOMETIMES FRIEND, IF THAT’S ALL I CAN BE. BUT I CAN’T WATCH YOU DESTROY YOURSELF—
IT’S NOT EASY TO WRITE THIS. I WISH I COULD SAY EVERYTHING TO YOU.
I CAN’T DO IT, SILLA. I NEED MORE THAN THAT.
—G
14
see your shrink
The longer you wait
the closer he gets
so say your prayers
he never forgets.
Cath starts screaming on a Sunday night. The screaming pierces my head like a high frequency I can’t tolerate, a ripping thing, and I press my fists into my ears. On and on, Cath screams. I can hear it through my flesh. It rattles my bones. [GO AND CHECK ON HER.]
I slide from my bed and check on Nori, but she is huddled under her blanket and hasn’t stirred. I leave Cath alone. Whatever she’s screaming about, I’m too much of a coward to find out.
GIGGLES
The girl, Silla, assumes Nori sleeps while she sits in the library reading my books. But while she leaves her little sister to dream sweet summer dreams, Nori is in the basement again, playing with a man made of shadows.
And in a house that doesn’t speak, Nori begins to talk.
She stands in the corner.
And covers her eyes.
“… nine… ten… ready or not… here I come…”
The Creeper Man is hiding, and Nori giggles.
I heard it again, I know I did. A child’s laughter. To be sure, I open the library door, which I had barricaded with a chair, and peer out. And listen.
There
is
only
darkness.
Creak.
“Stop.”
Creak…
“Stop it.”
Creeeeaaaaakkkk.
“STOP IT!”
I slam the door closed and bar it again with the chair. I grip my head and huddle on the floor.
“Mama,” I whisper. “I don’t like this. Please make this stop. I don’t want to be here.”
Cath’s screaming is the only reply.
15
all about the poison
Python striker, Python tree
please don’t let the man get me
python striker, Python tree
let me sing this melody.
BROKEN BOOK ENTRY
I have another theory, and this one is worse. Don’t say it out loud, don’t think it—don’t write it. That’s what I tell myself. Would you write down a mortal dread? Make it real? But I do wonder about it and I have to write it to see if it’s true. To understand why. Closure, maybe? To see if it sounds as ridiculous to you as it does to me? I never thought of it before, but it makes sense. I think my father might be in this house. I think he might have been here for a long time. I think that he—the granite beast—has been toying with me, punishing me with my fears. It’s the only theory that makes sense. I mean: Curse? Or evil father? What’s the answer?
The storm complains like a petulant child, worrying at the windows and the walls. I’m stowed safely in the library, while Nori is out there, being infected by this house. Being swallowed up, masticated like a piece of— [SAY IT.]
Like a piece of meat.
I wander the library slowly, feeling fragile as brittle bones. My mind is heavy, though. My heart, too. Why won’t he come?
The books lull me into calmness, if not a sense of security, and I find myself wandering the rows. I stalk along the ground floor, then take the spiraling side stairs up to the next level. I wander that floor, too.
A thump and a crash from above. I flinch, shoulders raised defensively.
A shadow moves along the edges of the far bookcases. It is distorted through the glass ceiling. I go up, my body tight as a guitar string, ready to snap.
It’s on the third level that I spot him.
He’s huddled like a ball of cloth by two corner bookcases, his head pillowed on La Vita Nuova: The New Life. He’s shivering and twitching, lost in some terrible dream. He’s knocked several books off the shelf to his left, his arm still raised, as if in defense or defiance.
Something inside me breaks to see him and I feel irritation
exultation
rage
fear
confusion