Chapter 12 — Hide and Pray

The kids had been fine with my staying for longer. In fact, they seemed excited about the idea. Amber ran around the house, showing me all her toys, while Aiden and Clementine challenged me to beat them in a videogame. It felt nice, to be accepted by them so completely, even if it could blow up in our faces before the year ended.

When the kids went to bed, I ended up sitting on the couch with Kier while he finished his makeup work, and I watched a sitcom that I’d never seen before. It felt just like a human sitcom, but the characters were Nightmares. I tried to wrap my head around the fact that someone thought we even needed different scheduled programming.

Then I’d started to head downstairs and Kier stopped me. “We’ll figure something out later, but you’re not going to stay in the basement if you’re living here on a more permanent basis. Let’s bring the air mattress up for the day.”

So, I’d ended up sleeping in the living room, behind the couch. I tried to tell Kier that the air mattress would be fine until it deflated, but he ignored me, and started to make plans for the weekend. Those plans included getting me new clothing, a suitable bed, and toiletries. The more he talked, the more anxious I felt about the entire thing. I didn’t want him spending any money on me, let alone buying all of that. When he pointed out that I didn’t have any money to get these things, it only made me feel worse.

Either way, I woke up Friday morning with my stomach twisted into knots. I climbed out of bed and went upstairs to shower. Kier had kindly laid out another outfit for me, but it would eventually get weird that I walked around wearing his clothes.

Downstairs, it sounded like utter chaos. The kids all ran around, Kier tried to wrangle them into their shoes and backpacks, but up in the shower, everything felt calm. I finished getting ready, pulling on a black t-shirt that went down nearly to my knees, and a pair of red boxers. They had little X’s and O’s on them, and I wondered why on Earth Kier would buy something like that for himself.

He had started shuffling everyone out the door by the time I came back downstairs with my clothes in one hand.

“You know where the washer and dryer are?” Kier asked, stuffing Amber into a coat, to keep her safe from the rain that had started to fall.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve even worked one before, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

Kier gave me a look, so I canned the attitude. “We’ll be home as soon as school lets out. Until then, you know the drill. Don’t let anyone in the house, and just try not to blow the place up. Also, you can eat.”

He didn’t give me a chance to argue that, shuffling the kids out the door. When he disappeared, my stomach dropped. The guilt, which I had been holding at bay by keeping myself busy, swamped me. It hit me in the stomach and chest like a freight train. I had to lower myself to the ground, because I thought my legs would give out.

I didn’t offer anything to this family. They took me in, and I… What? Ate their food? Took up their space? Spent their money? I didn’t work, I didn’t go to school, I didn’t have anything to offer, except the certainty that they would eventually get caught living with me. And when that day came, I felt certain that Kier would fight for me. I also felt certain that it would only add to the laundry list of things that made me a burden.

I braced myself on the ground and tried talking myself down. Kier seemed fine living with me. He liked me, at least a little bit. And I would be working soon. I’d get a job that brought in enough money that they didn’t have to pay for me. It would all be fine, in just a few short months.

But during those months, I’d be like a parasite. Kier would eventually get sick of me. The others would never say it, but he would. Kier would tell me that I had become a burden and needed to leave. God, my chest felt tight, and I could barely breathe.

So do something. Earn your keep.

I gathered my clothes up and went to the laundry room. A small pile of blankets had been left on the floor, so I threw them in the wash with my clothing. Then I went into the kitchen and started to clean whatever had been left in the sink. It felt so minimal and menial, but I didn’t have anything else to offer. At least while I stayed at the house, I could clean it up so Kier didn’t have to.

Considering Amber couldn’t keep her toys in one place, I’d always have something to do when they left.

I gathered those toys into the baskets, and then put those aside. Then I went into the garage and found the mop and started to scrub the floors. By the time lunch rolled around, the entire house had been cleaned, and I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.

Following the next line of my bad ideas, I went over to the computer that Kier kept in the corner. He told me that I could use it, since he and Ash both had their own computers. Clementine and Aiden shared this one, and it hadn’t been locked or anything. I opened the thing up and smiled when I saw the background. A picture of Clementine and Aiden making faces at the camera. Clementine’s glasses sat askew on her face, and she had a dopey smile to match.

Shaking my head, I pulled open the browser, typed in our town, and then my name. Articles appeared immediately. Most didn’t involve me but popped up in junction with one of the other keywords. I found a few about me, though. One, a short two paragraph article, stated that I’d been missing for a few days and my father wanted to find me.

Another, much longer article, had my heart beating much harder. It had appeared this morning. The article started out explaining that I’d gone missing a few days before, and it gave a little backstory. Like how I ended up living with my father and that my mother had died. Then it started in on how I’d beaten up a woman at the local shelter and tried to rob her.

I braced my hands against the edge of the table and lowered my head down between them. My stomach rocked and rolled inside of me, offering to eject its contents. When my head stopped spinning, I lifted it to look at the computer again. That woman, that bitch, had been found by the owner of the shelter about five minutes after Kier and I left. They called an ambulance for her, and she claimed that I had tried to rob her. When I found out she didn’t have anything, I’d beaten her senseless.

Everything that I feared seemed to happen. Every time I turned around, someone new stood there, ready to shove my face into the water. My lungs had filled with fluid, and I couldn’t breathe anymore. I couldn’t go anywhere but this house. My only option, my only safe space, was this house.

They even had my picture up on the page. An older one, from when I still had blond hair, but my picture, nonetheless. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure me out. What would happen when I tried to apply for jobs when the time came? They would run my name through their systems, and someone might report me. The police would take me away and Kier wouldn’t put up with that. Strangers coming into his house and taking someone he protected away? Oh no, that would never happen. He would fight back, and everything that I feared would occur.

He’d get in trouble, possibly killed. I would spend the rest of my life feeling guilty for that, plus a couple of years in jail for assault and attempted robbery.

A curse. I’m a curse on everyone that comes into contact with me. Mom died. Dad is miserable. Kier is in the crossfire.

Then I thought about leaving. Walking back to my house, knocking on the door, and letting Dad take care of this. He would try to get me out of the charges, as long as I claimed really hard that the woman tried to hurt me first. It wouldn’t make up for the number of times that I hit her, but it had to count for something, right?

Right?

Someone knocked on the door, and I looked over my shoulder. Kier would’ve told me if he had someone scheduled to come by the house. After what happened with the pest guy, I asked him to inform me. He promised that he would. Did Nightmares have solicitors the way that humans did? They had to, right?

I rose from the chair, putting aside all my fears and paranoias. I’d let them give me an ulcer later, when I’d handled whoever had come to the door. I didn’t open it, because Kier had told me specifically not to do that, and I trusted him. Instead, I stood up on tiptoe, and looked through his peephole.

A man stood on the porch. I assumed a Nightmare, based on his sheer size and the hardness of his face. He had to be about the same height as Kier. Maybe a little shorter. He had broad shoulders that seemed to fill the entirety of his suit. His light hair had been cut so close to his head that I couldn’t tell what color it was, but his eyes looked dark brown. Maybe gray, if the lighting changed it.

He turned to the door again and rang the bell. I carefully moved away, trying not to make any sounds. I figured that he had to go away soon, because no one answered. He could sell something at the next door.

“Kier? Are you home?” the man called, and my heart leapt. “Let me in. It’s Emerald.”

I walked back a few more steps, my mind reeling. Kier hadn’t mentioned anyone named Emerald, ever. I had to assume he did that for a reason. I kept backing up, looking all over the place for a phone. I needed a new one with Kier’s number in it, just for occasions like this. But that would mean that Kier had to buy me one and didn’t that just get my heart thumping in my chest.

The doorbell rang again. “Kier? Open up.”

I came forward again and looked through the peephole. The man stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. This time, the man stepped away from the door and looked down the street. I mentally urged him to keep going, to get the hell away from me. Instead, he turned around, and I noticed the badge that he wore around his neck. It looked different from a police badge, but it would. If he belonged to the Authorities, then it would look very different.

And this man knew Kier by name, came to his house with his badge out, and Kier had been training for three years to join the Authority. It didn’t feel like a leap in logic to assume that this man came on official business. I lowered myself back to my feet as slowly as I could, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The man rang the bell again. “Hello?” he called. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

I didn’t for a second think that he spoke with Kier then. His tone had changed, and he sounded more official. Colder, somehow.

I kept backing up, my feet carrying me toward the kitchen and the basement.

“Just open the door,” the man said. “I’m giving you the chance to cooperate. I’ve got a key to this house, and I’ll open this door myself in exactly one minute. It’ll be easier and better on both of us if you do it yourself.”

My feet carried me into the kitchen, and I opened one of the cabinets. Kier had a cast iron pan. It felt obvious to me, but I didn’t have another weapon. Besides, cast iron could pack a punch. The pan weighed probably five pounds, and if I swung it hard enough, that would work.

Why swing it? This is exactly what I thought would happen. They found him out. Sooner than I hoped, but we’ve been found out nonetheless. Why not let the man come into the room and take you away? Kier could probably talk himself out of trouble, if he had to. For the kids. Just… let him come.

No. Nope, no. Not doing that. I wouldn’t even consider it. If that man came into the house, then he would dump me in one of those facilities that Kier had been talking about. I pictured myself in one of those places, and certainty filled my mind. If I had a chance of survival, I thought that Kier would’ve called his bosses the second I appeared in his yard.

Kier had an angry soul, but a kind heart.

“All right, I’m giving you one minute, starting now,” Emerald said. “If you open the door before that, then I’ll make sure that nothing happens to you.”

I almost laughed. Do exactly as I say, and I’ll make sure that all the others leave you alone. It sounded like a trap.

I slipped into the pantry and closed the door most of the way. Across the small hallway, the blankets tumbled around in the dryer with only a few minutes left to go. Then the third door led down to the basement. I thought about running down there, but I’d have even less room to maneuver. All those boxes would be great to hide behind, but terrible for running.

“Fifty seconds,” the man said.

I didn’t want to fight this Emerald, though. For one thing, I didn’t think I’d be able to beat him. A trained Nightmare against a girl like me? I couldn’t even get away from my father without almost getting killed. If I’d been a little slower, then he would have slammed into me, and I’d have never gotten to this house to begin with.

Maybe Kier would have been better then. At least none of this would be happening, and he’d have the surety that his kids wouldn’t be as risk.

“Forty.”

So, why didn’t I run? I could get out of the house, through one of the windows. I’d cut through the backyard and take off down the street. If I used the alleys and short cuts, I’d be back in my neighborhood in no time. I could get behind the fence, and the Nightmare would have no right to come attack me. I’d be safe from him but have to face my father.

Or I could just keep going. Keep running until my legs turned to rubber and my lungs couldn’t breathe. I’d be safer that way. It’d be smarter.

“Thirty.”

But I had gotten tired of running. So tired. Every time I left the house, it felt like another danger waited for me. It felt like a joke. I finally get the courage to seek help, only to have that woman dismiss me. Then she told my father, and I got the courage to run, only to have him come after me.

I just wanted something to feel settled and real and safe. The kind of safety where I could breathe, knowing that I wouldn’t get hit the second I said or did something wrong. I wanted the kind of family that Kier had built.

“Twenty.”

How could I get that family when everyone wanted to punish me? To throw me away, or make me go back to a house that resembled hell? I finally had something that felt the way I wanted. A family that loved each other and would die for each other. And Kier would do everything to keep me safe, even though I should be able to do it myself.

“Ten.”

Fuck that. I wouldn’t let anyone take me away. Not again. I would fight for this, and that Nightmare would probably kill me because of it. But I had to fight for something. This seemed worth it. the chance to really live.

Fuck Brook for thinking I lied.

Fuck this man for trying to take me against my will.

And fuck me for being so afraid that I huddled in a pantry, hoping that he wouldn’t find me.

That rage started to boil in my stomach again, and I welcomed it like an old friend. The only courage I knew came from that rage, and I wrapped it around my body. It suffused my head until I felt buzzed, and my hands tightened around the handle of the cast iron skillet. The heavy thing felt good in my hands. Powerful. I could hurt someone with this thing.

I breathed the tension out of my body.

“Too late,” Emerald called. “I’m coming into the house.”

It felt like I had become in tune with everything around me. I swore that I heard the key sliding into the lock, and the snick of the bolts turning over. He came into the house, just like he said he would. My fear and rage beat alongside each other, like two hearts controlling everything that I did.

“Where are you?” the man called, and he started to walk. “You couldn’t have jumped from the windows upstairs, because you would have broken something. I’m guessing that you’re downstairs somewhere?”

I knew he wanted to scare me into running out. If he telegraphed every move, getting closer to me with each word he said, then most people would bolt. They’d get scared, and they’d run for dear life.

I’d spent hours hiding from my father. If you stayed perfectly still, then no one noticed you. Don’t move, don’t breathe. Perfectly still. Make like a statue. Act like you’re made of stone. Perfectly… still. Perfectly…

The man’s footsteps started to get quieter. “Probably not the living room,” he said. “Too obvious a place to hide. I’ve been in this house many times, so I know the dining room will be empty. There’s nothing in there to tuck yourself into. That means… the kitchen?”

He won’t see you. Still your breathing. You know how to do this. Think of all the times you’ve done it before.

Yes, I did know how to do it. The first time had been the week after my mother died. I’d gotten into a fight at school with one of the other kids. They had said something about Mom deserving to die. Just a jerk kid who wanted attention. My father had stormed into the house, furious, and I’d been in the bathroom. I slipped into the linen closet, and stayed tucked under the shelves, not moving. I’d stayed there for three hours, until I heard him going to bed.

He punished me the next day, but I’d learned how to hide from him.

A shoe squeaked on the tile, and I felt like that had been deliberate. Each sound he made had been intentional. If he could drive worry and anxiety into my heart, then I’d run. Just like prey, I’d run. Who knew what he would do with me after that?

Stay still. Don’t move.

The man started to come further into the kitchen. “You’re making this harder on everyone involved, you know. I get that you’re scared, and I even understand why. I would be scared, too. Stuck in a world that you don’t understand, with people that could hurt you at any time. I would be hiding too. Come out, and I’ll tell you everything that’s going to happen. You’ll feel better when you know the plan.”

Sure I will.

He started to draw closer to the pantry, and my grip on the cast iron grew painful. The hard metal dug into my skin, threatening to break through. I didn’t move.

He pushed the laundry room door open, hard enough that it bounced off the opposite wall. I figured he did that to try and startle me into making a sound. That would have been my father’s reasoning, at any rate. I didn’t even flinch, because my nerves had been frayed.

“Not in here? Well, then I’m guessing that you went downstairs? To the basement?” I pictured the man coming toward the pantry, because he wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk past it. No one would be that stupid.

The wind outside picked up, making the rain slam against the house all the harder. The front door slammed closed so hard that it almost made me jump. “Shit,” the man said, and I heard his footsteps move back the way that he had come.

Oh god. This is the only chance I’ll have.

Seizing the moment of luck, I pushed open the pantry door, leapt out, and swung. Adrenaline fueled the move, and I had to hope for the best as the cast iron came down. The man started to turn, having heard me. He had the smallest smile on his face, like he finally managed to get the best of me.

Luck won out, because he clearly hadn’t expected me to come armed.

The pan slammed down on the crown of his head with all the force that I could muster. He stumbled back, blindly reaching out for something to grab on to, and I advanced. Raising the pan again, I brought it down on his jaw this time. His head whipped to the side and crashed against the counter. As he fell to the ground, I sucked in a breath and waited.

He didn’t move.

He breathed and his heart beat, but the man didn’t move. I even nudged him with my foot, but he stayed still.

I nearly went limp with relief. I’d be able to tell Kier that I didn’t kill his boss, at least.

Then I had to move quickly. I dragged Emerald downstairs, trying to keep his head from bouncing off every stair by gripping his shoulders instead of his feet. I dropped him once, because I tripped over a toy. When I got downstairs, I used the same chain and pipe that Kier used against me to tie Emerald up. He stayed unconscious the entire time, which I took as a good sign.

When I finished that, I stood there, shuffling my feet. “I’m sorry,” I said to the guy. “I’m… sorry.” I nudged his foot, but he didn’t move. Probably for the best, since my hand felt naked without the cast iron skillet. My one source of protection had to stay upstairs, so that I could get the guy downstairs.

I went back up and began wondering how I would explain this to Kier. He would be absolutely baffled about my decision, and then he’d be furious. Probably at me, definitely at the man who tried to kidnap me. I couldn’t even blame him for the fury.

So consumed by that, it took me nearly thirty minutes to start wondering about the door. It had slammed closed just when I needed it too, but also… How did it slam closed? The wind came from outside, and the door opened into the house. Not the other way around.

What closed it?