IT'S STILL DARK OUT when we reach Marisol's house. We pile out and follow Dahlia—who knows the code to the front door—up the white-paved walkway. There's a small keypad beneath the doorbell, gray buttons that illuminate themselves in a dull red light as Dahlia types it in. We let ourselves in.
Her house is dark and quiet, and feels very lonely without the hustle and bustle of her parents. Off in one room or another, Marisol's dog Gucci sends out a series of shrill barks.
"Shit!" Dahlia hisses. "Shit. Okay, she sleeps with her, they'll both be in her bedroom, come on!"
Down one of the many hallways, a light flicks on. Dahlia grabs Ezra and my hands and drags us down one leading in the opposite direction, all of us tripping over each other and running into one another in the darkness, soft murmurs of shit and sorry, you good? and was that your ass?
We throw ourselves into Marisol's room, slamming the door behind us, and dive beneath the bed. Gucci drops to the floor and immediately comes after us, wagging her tail and licking our faces.
The door opens. The outline of a pre-teen boy stands there, illuminated like a shadow by the backlight coming in from the hallway. Marisol's little brother, the surviving one. Jaden.
"Won't that dog shut the hell up already?" he says with a yawn. "It's, like, three a.m." Even though I know from the clock in Dahlia's car that it's well-past seven, now. He disappears and shuts the door behind him.
Dahlia, Ezra and I stay beneath the bed a second, breathing heavy. Gucci jumps from one of us to the next, demanding our attention. Once we're certain that Jaden isn't coming back, we crawl out. The rug burns my arms. Gucci shoves her tongue in my face. Dahlia fumbles for the light switch.
Marisol's bed is empty.
YOU ARE READING
A Shrine to an Unknown God
FantasyAntigone Katsaros was born and raised in a cult. Now, at eighteen, she doesn't know what wifi is, but she's well-versed in the old gods. [A Wattpad featured story.]
