My fingernails bite into the palms of my hands and sick anger twists in my stomach. I come alive with rage. “You’re so vile,” I hiss through clenched teeth, and Caleb’s head jerks up. He looks around the room apprehensively.
He heard me.
I whisper again, creeping closer this time. “Murderer.”
His eyes dart rapidly around the room, his entire body is tense and coiled, ready to spring up and flee. He doesn’t look at me once. He has no idea where the whispering is coming from. He ties up the top of the garbage bag with shaking hands and backs toward the door.
“Gonna get rid of this crap once and for all…”
I move closer, till my lips are beside his ear. He heard me. I’m so full of spiteful happiness I can barely contain it. “Murderer!”
He jumps like he’s been shot and races out of the door and down the hallway, and I can hear him swearing breathlessly the whole way.
Caleb takes the garbage bag to the river. He vanishes into the woods, and I watch him from the back porch. Part of me longs to trail after him. That way I’ll see Sam. Missing him is like a constant ache in my middle that never really goes away, and it’s only been two days since I’ve seen him. But I tell myself that I have to stay here for as long as it takes. Until Caleb breaks and it’s all over.
I let him think that everything is alright for a few hours. That his latest solution has worked. That somehow by getting rid of my stuff he’s gotten rid of me. He has a few beers before he goes to bed, but he looks more at ease than he has in a few days now. He obviously thinks it worked. Idiot.
Caleb leaves his door open at night, and I stand in the doorway for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do next. I try to drum up all the horror movies I can think of. What do ghosts do? They stomp around and scream and moan and show up at inconvenient times and scare the crap out of you. I try to work up a convincing moan, starting low in my throat and drawing my voice out in a long “ooo” sound. My face goes red as I imagine how silly I must sound. But Caleb rolls over with a snort, and I think he must have heard me in his sleep, so I walk deeper into his bedroom and moan again, a soft, drawn out groan.
The figure in the bed thrashes awake, sitting up suddenly, startling me into silence.
Caleb mutters into the darkness, “What the hell was that?”
Another moan. The sound comes from somewhere deep in my belly, something inside me curls and writhes like the black ropey coils of poisonous snakes. I feed it all my anger and pain, and my voice comes out in guttural groans of pain.
A whisper comes out of the darkness, shaky with terror, “Who’s that? Nakia? Is that you? That’s not funny!”
Pictures are running past my eyes now, and I imagine blood on my sweater as the poison within me spreads. I can almost feel it now, hot and damp in the center of my stomach. Hatred consumes me, eating at me, tearing at my insides. I can’t help it, I clutch my stomach with shaking hands, remembering the fiery pain that tore through me. The confusion as I fell backwards. The feeling that the world was spinning out of control. The empty ringing shock. It hurts.
Another moan. A noise that sounds too unnatural to possibly be coming from me. My insides writhe, and the pain is physical now. Stabbing at my stomach where I was shot, like my body remembers what happened. Why does it hurt? I shuffle forward and collapse on the end of his bed. My hand brushes his foot, and the bedsprings shriek under my weight.
“No!” Caleb thrashes in the dark, screaming. He bolts out of bed and I hear him crash into something, and then a second later the bedroom light comes on, blinding me. Caleb is painting, shivering uncontrollable, teeth clattering together.
When the spots of light finally recede from my vision I can see him there in the doorway, clinging to the frame, wide eyes fixed on the bed. The sheets are in a tangled ball in the center of the bed, and I’m still sitting at the end, but his eyes skim over me. My stomach sinks. I’m invisible again. Caleb stands there staring for what seems like eternity, then he curses violently and stomps down the hall into the living room. The TV suddenly blares loudly.
Down the hall Nakia’s door clicks open, and she shuffles out in her pajamas. She pokes her head around the entrance to the living room, and when she sees his wide eyes and shell shocked expression she turns around and retreats back to her bedroom without a word.
I stay in the bedroom, shaken. I had only meant to frighten him, not myself. Why had the memories flooded me like that? What was that dark thing that had uncoiled in my stomach like a pit viper readying itself to strike? There was something frightening inside me, something I couldn’t control. I stayed where I was, until my body shifted and became nothing again, and I slid through the bed and onto the floor with a spine-jarring thump. I stood up and tried to shake it off, tried to let go of any thoughts about the night I died, forcing myself to let go of the hatred. It was harder this time. Harder than it had ever been before.
The TV stays on all night. In the morning Caleb still lies on the couch clutching the remote. His eyes are huge - blood shot and glassy – staring at the TV without comprehension. He doesn’t stir when Nakia leaves for school. He doesn’t even answer his phone when it buzzes on the coffee table. He stays that way until the sun has climbed halfway up the sky, looking like an extra from a zombie movie.
I’m in the kitchen, staring longingly out the window at the forest when he staggers down the hall and I hear the shower come on. So he’s finally moving again. The ache in my chest intensifies as I turn back to the window. Maybe I should just call this off and go to him, to Sam. Maybe he can explain the dark feeling that had risen up last night. If he just holds me in his arms it will chase away that feeling. Was that the shadow he spoke of? Maybe he’s right. Maybe this will consume me.
The bathroom door slams and my fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. Caleb can't be allowed to live as he pleases. He’s not going to get away with this. That’s why I’m here, to make him break so that he finally leaves Nakia and goes to live with his mother, or he gets desperate enough to turn himself in. That’s my goal. I have to stick it out.
He’s trying to make things business as usual. I see it as soon as he walks into the kitchen. Caleb has combed and styled his freshly washed hair. He’s even done something about the circles under his eyes, and I peer closer in disbelief. He hasn’t actually put makeup on has he? I try to imagine him going through Nakia’s makeup bag and putting on her concealer, the idea is ludicrous. Caleb squares his shoulders and pours himself a bowl of cereal. I’m considering batting it out of his hand and watching it shatter on the kitchen tiles when the door bell rings.
He jumps, then laughs shakily and sets the bowl down on the counter, muttering to himself about being ridiculous. Blankness settles over his face, he’s mentally preparing himself, making it look like everything is cool. Like he didn’t just jump at the sound of the doorbell.
He saunters into the hallway, one hand in his pocket. He leans to the side and peers through the window. The guy standing on the front doorstep raises one hand in greeting. Caleb flicks the lock and opens the door.
“Hey man,” he says.
The guy on the doorstep has shaggy straw-colored hair that hangs over brown eyes and the start of a scraggly beard. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, and he leans back on one foot as if he’s about to break and run at any minute. “Hey man,” he says. “hey. How’s it going?”
“Good.” Caleb says it carelessly, like his life is perfect. He steps back and beckons the guy in. “Nice to see you, Jude. Come on in, have a seat.”
Jude wanders in over the doorstep. He does not take his hands out of his pockets. When he steps into the hallway he goes straight for the living room, obviously comfortable with the layout, and slouches down onto the couch. Caleb is rifling through the drawer in the liquor cabinet, and Jude talks the entire time.
“Man, you gotta come camping next time, bro. It was awesome. We got totally trashed and went skinny dipping, and Stacey Adams did like three guys in two nights.”
“That skank is nasty.” Caleb straightens up, a green-filled baggie in one hand. “There’s no way I would touch that with a ten foot pole.” He stalks over and flings himself onto the other side of the couch, tossing the baggie at Jude, who catches it eagerly.
Caleb looks sideways at his friend. “Jude, my man, tell me…please tell me that you did not tap that.”
Jude rolls his eyeballs up to the ceiling, blowing stringy hair out of his eyes. “Whatever, man. She was good to go.”
“She’s nasty,” Caleb says unkindly, his lip draws up in a sneer. “Her face is nasty.”
“Hey man, come on,” Jude protests, and then he shrugs. “Not like I saw her in the dark anyways.”
Caleb laughs uproariously, and I can feel my insides squirm. I’ve always known some guys talk like this. It’s no secret, the stuff they say in locker rooms or the way they talk when there are no women within earshot. The way they talk about women like we’re no more then a great peace of steak they had last night. An accomplishment, an object without feelings or worth…but coming from Caleb it’s somehow worse. Caleb doesn’t stop at disrespect, he has no regard for human life at all. He’s an ugly, violent person who shouldn’t be allowed to have anything to do with women.
While they talk Jude is dipping into the baggie, rolling up pinches of the contents into paper, a sprinkle of green vegetation on white. He tucks it carefully and licks the edge.
“You want?”
Caleb waves a hand at him. “Nah man, all yours. You bought it.”
“I don’t care.” Jude shrugs and places the joint between his lips, playing the lighter over the paper tip until it glows orange. He sucks in and talks in a strained voice as he holds the smoke in his lungs. “You should have been there, man. The waves were unreal. Simon tried to go out and nearly killed himself.” He exhales and a cloud of smoke wreaths him.
“Simon’s an idiot.” Caleb grins. “I’ll come next time though, I promise. I just been dealing with some stuff.”
Jude’s brows creases. “What’s up? You okay?”
I snort in amusement. Go ahead doctor phil. Make him lie down on the red couch, the poor guy could use someone to talk to. He’s had a rough night.
“Just dealing with this chick.” Caleb’s grin is twisted. “Kind of an insane one, you know.”
You can’t be serious. My jaw clenches, and I feel a twisting in my gut again, the darkness is rising.
“Sorry to hear that.” Jude blows out smoke rings, watching them in fascination as they dissolve into nothingness. “That blows, man.”
“Yeah.” Caleb stretches out, his feet clunking on the coffee table. He puts his hands behind his head. “I dunno, we had a mix up. It was an accident but she can’t seem to get over it.”
Yeah, I’ll just get over it. I can’t take this conversation anymore. The anger comes easily to me now, the feeling of control is at my fingertips, and I lash out, sweeping my hand across the coffee table. Knocking Jude’s little bag of weed into the air. It goes flying, and green flecks shower onto the carpet.
“What?” Jude sits up, head whipping around. “What just happened? Man, did you knock that off?”
Caleb is just staring at the coffee table in silence, his face turning steadily whiter. Jude stands up and puts a hand to his forehead, looking down at the carpet. “Oh man, that’s not cool. Did I do that? ”
I charge forward. Even though my anger isn’t directed at this moron, he just happens to be the one standing up, so I plant both hands on his chest and shove with all my might.
Jude goes flying backwards, his mouth contorted in a scream. He hits the back of the sofa and he slides sideways, nearly landing in Caleb’s lap. Caleb scrambles up, backing away from the couch, eyes searching the room wildly.
“What the hell was that?” Jude is staring down at the scattered baggie, backing away form it like it’s poison. “Dude, I don’t know what’s in this, but that wasn’t cool. Look, I’ll just pay you for the stuff I smoked, I don’t want the rest.”
I reach out and put a hand on his back, pushing him more gently this time, towards the front door. Jude looks behind him with huge, saucer-like eyes. He runs for the door, as fast as he’ll probably ever go in his life, and it slams behind him. In the driveway a car starts up and tires screech on cement. Jude is gone.
Caleb puts his face in his hands, as if he’s afraid to look around. I can hear him mumbling to himself, and I don’t know what he’s saying, but I hope it’s the sound of his sanity slowly crumbling.