Tanner
My eyelids close for what I’m sure is the last time as the swamp swallows me whole.
I blink, and I wake up from the nightmare of mud and mire to see an angel.
Bailey is smiling down at me, her eyes shining with relief and love. Muck from the swamp covers every inch of her, and brackish water drips from her hair.
She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
“Tanner?” she asks, her voice hushed and quiet as though she’s by a patient’s bedside. “Baby? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I sputter. My lungs are on fire, and my mouth tastes like I’ve been licking a sewage pipe. What the fuck happened? The last thing I remember is Amos trying to take me over again.
Amos.
Fear rushes through me, and I grip Bailey’s hands desperately. “Where’s Amos?” I wheeze as my eyes dart around, trying to catch a glimpse of the demon in the shadows.
“Gone,” she replies firmly, her face grim. “I kicked his fucking ass.”
“Good,” I sigh, settling back against the mossy soil. My whole body aches. All I want to do is sleep.
“But I’m not sure if he’s dead,” Bailey continues, nudging me to sit up. “And I don’t want to stay to find out.”
As tempting as it is to rest for a little while longer, I can’t help but share her concern. “How did you do it?”
A haunted look passes across Bailey’s face. For a split second, I have the distinct feeling that she’s somehow so far away, she has one foot in another world entirely. But then she shakes her head, and the uncanny expression slides from her features.
“I’m not sure,” she shrugs, though I’m not convinced. “It was some spell that Helen gave me. It was… weird.”
“Spell?” I repeat. I think back to all of those nights alone in our bed while Bailey watched over Robert Wilson. It made sense that Helen had known about the demon here. She’s lived on the edge of the swamp for quite awhile. Of course, she’s seen things, knows things.
Bailey nods. “But like I said before, I’m not sure if this is permanent.” She glances back over her shoulder toward the dark, still water of the marsh. “We really should get out of here.”
After what’s happened to us tonight, I have to agree.
Sitting up is a strenuous task. My whole body aches, and my head pounds. The heavy, stagnant taste in my mouth is so bad that I have to suppress the urge to gag even as bile rises in the back of my throat.
But the worst pain radiates from the palm of my left hand. There's a thin, ragged hole running clean through my flesh. Blood pulses out in time with my uneven heartbeat, mixing with the putrid mud that clings to my skin.
“Oh my god, Tanner,” Bailey gasps as she catches sight of the wound.
“I’m fine,” I say, though we both know that’s a lie.
“I’ll patch it up once we get to the car,” she promises. “If we leave it like that for too long, it’ll probably get infected.”
I nod in agreement. I don’t even want to think about the things floating down there in the stinking water.
Bailey helps me stagger to my feet. My legs are unsteady and weak beneath me, and my head swims dangerously as I try to find my balance. Finally, I’m able to stumble forward a few steps. As long as Bailey keeps her arm around me, I think we’ll be able to make it to the car.
Navigating the swamp turns out to be trickier than I’d imagined. It takes almost ten minutes for the two of us to slog through the marshy landscape. By the time we reach the dead brown grass of the backyard, I’m ready to fall to my knees and kiss the solid earth beneath our feet.
But Bailey doesn’t stop to let me rest. Instead, she hauls me across the lawn and around the side of the house.
“My truck!” I remember frantically, drawing to an unsteady halt. “Amos fucked with my truck!” My heart sinks as I realize we’ll have to hobble down the long, rutted driveway together in order to get out of this hellish place.
“Leave it,” Bailey says, shaking her head. “We’ll take my car.”
Her car?
Sure enough, as we round the side of the house and step onto the gravel of the driveway, I catch sight of her sedan gleaming in the low moonlight. Of course, she drove here to find me. I’m obviously not thinking clearly still. Hopefully, Amos didn’t make me tamper with that vehicle too.
Bailey leads me around to the passenger side. Part of me is terrified that Amos isn’t really gone, that he’s just toying with us and that the door won’t open when Bailey goes to pull the handle, but it swings open easily. A relieved sigh rushes from my aching lungs as I lower myself into the seat.
After closing the door behind me, Bailey runs around the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat. As she turns the key in the ignition, the interior lights come on momentarily, and I gasp in horror as I realize the state she’s in.
There’s a thick gash on her forehead. Her blood mingles with the mud of the swamp and clots in her hair. The bandage around her wrist and hand has loosened. I catch a glimpse of the swollen, bruised skin beneath and wince. I wonder if there are other wounds that I can’t see, ones that run even deeper.
“I did this to you,” I murmur, shame welling in my chest. I reach out my good hand toward the cut on her forehead, my fingers hovering only centimeters above the split skin.
Bailey closes her eyes and shakes her head. “No,” she whispers fervently. “It wasn’t you. It was Amos.”
I know there’s truth to what she’s saying. No matter how much time might pass, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the demon’s claws sinking into my brain, gouging at the deepest parts of myself until I had become something unrecognizable, something inhuman. That horrible, grating laugh will forever haunt me.
No matter how far we run, I know deep down that I’ve left a part of myself out there in that festering swamp, and I’ll never be whole again.
There was nothing down there but death.
I shudder as I recall how the slimy water closed in above my head, stealing the last vestiges of moonlight as I sank deeper into the abyss. It was peaceful, in a way. The cold certainty of my decision was almost comforting. Even if I couldn’t remember them all, even if I hadn’t been in control, I knew that I’d done some terrible things. Would sacrificing myself for the woman I love be the worst way to atone for my sins?
As the oxygen in my lungs started to run its course, my mind began to wander. How long would it take for me to drown? I had no idea, but I guessed I was about to find out.
But then, as I neared the murky bottom of the swamp, the water rushed around me as something solid came in contact with my stomach.
Bubbles rushed from my lips toward the surface as gritty, foul-tasting liquid flooded my mouth. My lungs burned as the water hit them. I wanted to cough, but I couldn't. There was no air. Oh God, there was no air.
Hands closed around my shoulders, and I flailed wildly. My foot hit the bottom of the marsh, kicking up clouds of sediment around us. But I didn’t need to see to know that it was Amos.
The demon buffeted me back and forth. Mud and water frothed around us. I didn't know which way was up or down. My heart pounded, and my lungs felt like they were about to explode from my chest.
And then it stopped.
I didn’t know where Amos went. I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Darkness crept across the edges of my vision. I tried to reach out, to feel for the sludgy bottom of the swamp, but my limbs were heavy and nonresponsive.
There was nothing down there but death….
I snap from the memory with almost painful clarity.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Bailey.”
I’m sorry for hurting her. I’m sorry for accepting this fucking job in the first place, for getting us into this mess. I’m sorry for not being strong enough to fight Amos properly, for insisting on taking one more day, for being so blind.
Bailey’s eyes flash in the moonlight. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she tells me firmly, catching my hand in her own. She laces her fingers between mine. “It was Amos. All of this was Amos.”
How can she just wave it all away like that? The sickening crack of her forehead meeting the doorframe earlier tonight rings through my head. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. I don’t deserve her love.
I squeeze my eyes closed and recall the surety I’d felt earlier when I’d tumbled off the mossy bank of the cemetery and into the water. I would’ve died for her.
Maybe now I have a chance to live for her, too.
“I love you,” I whisper. My voice disperses into the darkness, teetering somewhere between a plea and a prayer.
Bailey smiles softly. “I love you too,” she murmurs, squeezing my hand tighter in her grasp.
My body relaxes into the passenger seat as I let out a relieved sigh. But we’re not out of the woods yet. “What do we do now?” I ask.
“We get the hell out of here,” she replies quickly. Her gaze creeps to the edge of the swamp in the distance, as though she expects to see Amos standing there amidst the shadowy tombstones, ready to fuck with us some more.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I mutter, scowling out at the tangled snarl of cypress trees. Once we make it down the driveway, I know we’re never coming back to this place.
I can’t help thinking back to the first time I ever stepped foot here. It had been the night of the fire. I’d done everything in my power to save the structure and stop the spread of the flames.
Letting it all burn didn’t even make a difference.
Bailey, unaware of my wandering mind, turns to me. “I think we should go to Layla’s,” she suggests. “Florida. We can stay with her and Dalton for a bit, just until we can find a place of our own. What do you say?”
I watch her as she considers me carefully, waiting for my response. In that moment, Bailey is more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes flash with defiant strength, and my blood surges as I realize how sexy empowerment looks on her. She could’ve told me we’d be going to the goddamn moon, and I’d agree.
“I’ll follow you anywhere,” I breathe before closing the distance to capture her lips in a passionate kiss.