The House in the Woods

Chapter 6

I couldn’t get the images out of my head. They played in my head like scratched record. Macy’s ruined fender – the sunlight dappled on the ground – the blood that almost seemed to be rusting on him – and those eyes, those damn eyes –

I burrowed even deeper under the covers. The sheets were damp with my tears, my eyes hurt like hell, and my hair was coming out of my braid like tangled weeds, but I didn’t even care what I looked like right now. I didn’t know how else to grieve my poor excuse for a father.

I could hear Myrnah knocking on my door and calling my name, but I ignored her. How could this have happened to me? My father was dead and an evil man was on my tail. What kind of man cuts off another man’s eyelids? What was even the logic behind that? I could feel the bile rising up in my throat at the thought; how much pain had my dad been in before he died?

It hurt to realize how I’d left things, when I’d run away. Not even a goodbye; just my taillights heading down the road. I could still see him outlined in the doorway, the light from behind him almost bleeding its way out into our scraggly lawn. I could still remember his anguished voice, his shoulders shaking from his uncontrollable sobs. My father was so weak, oh God, he was so weak, but he didn’t deserve to die like this. No one did, not like this!

The worst thing was that he was dead because of me. That’s a lie; a voice said harshly inside my head, he did this to himself. It was true, technically. My father’s love for gambling translated into a love for death.

It still broke my heart though.

Suddenly, I felt the bed shift as if someone was climbing into it with me. I froze in surprise. Was Myrnah really climbing into my bed??

The person was still after they settled beside me. I stayed still too, completely at a loss. This was completely unnecessary, and kind of awkward. My hands tightened around the blanket I’d pulled on top of my head; I didn’t want Myrnah to see me like this.

“Are you going to stay under there forever?” Apollo asked calmly.

I was completely frozen in shock. It was Apollo who had climbed in with me??

“Because if you are, I think you’ll need provisions.” Apollo continued on, oblivious to my mortification. “Even if you’re making a fort, you need something to live off of. I suggest we construct some kind of tunnel system, Myrnah can send you food without ever breaching your defenses – “

In one movement, I ripped the covers from on top of my head and sat up. Apollo sat beside me against the headboard, his face completely innocent and calm. We stared at each other for what felt like hours.

“My father is dead.” I said curtly.

“I know.” He replied shortly, though his voice was softer than before.

We stared at each other again; my blue eyes boring into his green, but he never flinched or looked away.

“I’d like to be alone.” I said icily.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Apollo replied airily, looking away from me. He looked completely at ease, his hands folded delicately in his lap and his eyes wandering idly around my bedroom. A part of my mind was still struggling to understand why he’d decided to completely violate my space by climbing into bed beside me, but I just gaped at him.

“Why not? I need to grieve, Apollo –“

“I know that better than anyone else.” Apollo said quietly and somberly, effectively cutting me off. I was silent; he was talking about his mother.

“But I can’t just let you wallow alone in your mourning. I let Astera do that, and she became bitter.” Apollo met my eyes again. “Grief is like an ocean, Lilah. You can’t float on your own forever; eventually, the waves will overtake you and pull you under, and you’ll find yourself wishing desperately you grabbed a life jacket. Or more importantly, that someone had been with you to pull you out.”