Trigger warning: violence and strong language
As Chris rolled the Camry into the gravel driveway snaking through the forest up to Skurdulka's House, Storm kept waiting to see his dad's truck around the next bend. Storm held his breath while he and Chris bumped up the drive, the seconds seeming interminable.
But there was no one there.
Chris parked in front of the house, cutting the engine and letting silence fill the space. They looked sidelong at Storm for a moment. Storm couldn't be certain he knew what they were thinking, but he saw his own fears reflected in their gaze; If he shows up with the cops—what happens? To everything? To all of us?
Regret snaked up Storm's spine and settled in his heavy shoulders as he stepped out of the car. I should've stayed away. I'm putting everyone in danger.
As Chris and Storm stepped up to the house, dry grass and gravel crunching under both of their sneakers, the front door opened. Ari stood there, their long black hair falling like a mantel over their shoulders, their deep brown eyes scanning them both.
"I'm glad you're home. You both all right?" they asked.
Storm gave a tight nod. "Has he been here?"
Ari shook their head. "Not yet."
Chris half-shrugged. "Maybe he won't show up. Maybe he was bluffing. Do you really see him talking to the cops?"
Storm took a breath. "I dunno. I..." He looked up at Ari, the quiet, controlled concern in their amber-brown visage. "I can't stay here. If he does bring the cops, then everyone—"
"Storm." Taking a step, Ari laid a hand on his shoulder. A pang of guilt shot through Storm's chest. He felt his expression break, barely blinking back tears. Ari pulled him gently against their chest, their arms wreathing his shoulders. "This is your home. Everything's going to be fine."
With a steadying breath, Storm nodded. Stepping back, they looked up into Ari's face. "Are you sure?"
With a small smirk, Ari raised one eyebrow. "Have you forgotten where you are?"
Storm shook his head a bit, confused. "Huh?"
That strange smirk climbed. "This is Skurdulka's House."
Chris snickered as they stepped inside, but Storm hesitated. He hadn't forgotten. Ari was a reasonable person, Storm had no doubt of that. But Skurdulka wasn't. And that scared him.
"Come on." With a gentle hand on Storm and Chris's shoulders, Ari led them both inside. "Chris is right, he was probably bluffing. He probably won't even show up."
Heather and Lee were already in the living room, both of their heads popping up as Ari, Chris and Storm returned.
"Everything okay?" Worry strained Heather's expression.
"Yeah." Storm tried to sound assured. "It's all good."
Ari closed the thick doors behind them and twisted the lock. "Just so we're clear, no one opens this door except me or Willow. Okay?"
Storm scanned the living room, but saw only Heather and Lee. "Willow's here?"
"Willow's here." She leaned on the archway to the kitchen, holding a dewy glass of lemonade. Her gold and red sundress swayed like hibiscus petals as she ventured into the foyer. Her black-lined eyes were framed in gold, sparkling as she studied Storm. "You okay, hon?"
"Yeah." It came out raspy and dry. Clearing his throat, Storm tried again. "Yeah. Just, um, I dunno. I feel bad, I guess." He looked at his shoes. "I fucked everything up."
"Hey." Her warm hands skimmed his cheek. "This isn't your fault. Don't you feel bad." She studied him a moment more. Looking up, Storm saw the empathy in her face, a wordless understanding of growing up with a family you didn't ask for, and who didn't ask for you. A reassuring smile crossed her dark lips. "Come on. Let's have a sit." She extended the lemonade to him.
Storm couldn't help but smile too. "Mmhmm." As he took the cool glass from her, the knotted up guilt and fear untangled. He thought for a moment, just like he had thought when he first came to the house, everything might be okay.
The six of them huddled close in the living room, rewatching episodes of Pose. On one side of the couch, Heather painted Lee's nails between glances at the TV. Storm and Chris shared a bag of Doritos on the other side. Ari's usual chair was empty; they sat on the floor instead, against the middle section of the couch, leaning their head against Willow's knee as she sat on the couch over them, braiding their hair. It was almost idyllic, almost capturing that carefree summer that now seemed so far away. But, tonight, it felt like they were just passing time. Waiting.
Smashing gravel in the driveway made them all straighten. Quick glances, wide with alarm, flew between the four teenagers, then to Willow and Ari. Ari made to stand up, but Willow held them by the head as she leaned close. "Remember what we talked about."
Ari nodded once and Willow released them. They both stood up, facing the kids as a car door slammed shut outside. Willow's face was cool confidence. Ari's was a cold mask.
Willow raised a hand to the four of them. "Just stay here. We'll handle this."
Ari followed her out of the living room, a dark shadow clad in black jeans and a black t-shirt, their hair falling over their shoulders like a cape.
Instinctively, Storm sank back into the couch, hidden from view. Chris sank back with him, while Lee and Heather crept closer. Half of Storm wanted to peek over the back of the couch and watch. The other half of him was terrified.
The heavy slams on the door made Storm's thudding heart beat faster. Chris pulled their fingers through his and squeezed.
"Cops?" Willow said quietly.
"No." Ari's voice was farther away; they were probably looking through the kitchen window at the driveway. The old wood floor boards creaked as they crossed back to the foyer. "It's just him."
"Open the fuck up!" Keith shouted, and slammed on the door again.
A moment passed. Storm peeked over top of the sofa in time to see Willow open the door.
"Yes?"
Another beat of silence. Storm could just glimpse his father's blue jeans between Willow and Ari's figures.
"Bring my son out here. Right now."
Storm swallowed, holding his breath. He could hear the alcohol in his father's voice, but he'd never heard that voice so dark.
"Mr. Vandersen, I'm afraid we can't do that," Willow replied. Her voice was cool, but firm.
"He's my son. I want him."
"You're a danger to your son. And you know that. He doesn't want to see you, and you know why." There was no accusation in her voice. She spoke almost gently, as if explaining a sad fact. "He may change his mind in the future. But not as long as he feels he's in danger from you."
"I don't give a fuck what you want or what he wants. I will not have my son living with a bunch of faggots."
"If you—" Ari started, their voice a growl.
"I think you should leave." Willow's voice didn't change.
"If I come back here, I come back with the cops. And I'll have you fucking freaks arrested."
"For what?" Ari spat.
"Kidnapping. And whatever the fuck else you perverts are doing here."
"You're welcome to try, Mr. Vandersen," Willow replied. "We won't stop you. But you should know, in that case, that we will be lodging a criminal complaint against you."
Keith scoffed. "Me? For what?"
"Trespassing. Harassment. Endangering a minor. And assaulting a minor."
"Fuck you, bitch. You can't prove shit."
"I have pictures." For the first time, her cool, detached tone broke, dropping into a quiet hiss.
Keith paused. "What pictures?"
Willow reached into the pocket in the ruffles of her dress and pulled out her smartphone. With quick taps, like snapping teeth, she found was she was looking for and held the face of the smartphone towards Keith. With her other hand, she scrolled as she spoke. "What you did to your son."
Storm barely heard Chris's breathy whisper next to him, even in the ensuing silence. "Did she take pictures?" they asked.
Glancing at them, and then at Lee and Heather, Storm shook his head. "No. I don't know what she's..." He could only shrug, confused, and look over the couch again.
Willow started to put her phone away and Keith lunged at her. She stepped back and Ari stepped forward, planting a flat hand in Keith's chest and shoving him back. He stumbled, barely catching himself. Ari leaned forward, but Willow took their arm.
"Don't touch her," Ari growled.
"You can go to the police." Willow's voice was detached again, though she still held Ari. "But we will too."
A moment of silence stretched. Storm's heart thundered against the back of the couch cushions.
"Right now, the only reason we're not, is because your son asked us not to. He still cares about you." That gentle tone returned to Willow's voice. "And I know you care about him too. But this—this will drive him away. For good. I don't want that, Mr. Vandersen. None of us do. So please. Go home. Try to call him. Try to talk to him. If you really love your son and you really want what's best for him—this isn't it."
Keith still didn't speak. Storm leaned, trying somehow to see his father's face without being seen himself. Then, Storm heard a low, snide chuckle.
"You fucking freaks." Keith's quiet laughter died. "You think I'm gonna let you kidnap my son, turn him into some kind of faggot, and just, what? Walk away? Think again. You've got a reputation in this town. They don't like you fucking queers. I'm going to the cops. And they're gonna come here and bust your fucking face and show you what we do to people like you."
"We're not scared of you or your empty threats." Ari's voice was slow and dark, but steady. "If you wanted to go to the cops, you would've done it already. You have a record. Of abuse and drunkenness and violence. And the cops haven't done anything about it yet, because they don't give a shit, but you also know your word is worth nothing. And any slight scrutiny into the things you've done—by people who do give a shit—will rip your life apart. You won't come back here and you know it. You're nothing but a spineless specter of a backwards era. All you have are your hate and your threats and your impotent rage." Ari paused, their silken black hair swaying slightly as they shook their head. "You're nothing. And none of us are scared of you." They paused again, as if waiting for a response that never came. "Now, get the fuck off my porch."
Ari slammed the door in Keith's face, but didn't lock it. Storm peeked up another inch as Ari turned around. There wasn't a teeth-baring snarl on their face or an animal rictus, but a smirk. As they met Storm's eyes, Storm realized it wasn't the threat of violence in that smirk, but calm confidence.
"I'm proud of you, Ari," Willow said quietly as Storm leapt over the couch. Chris, Heather and Lee followed, but Heather went to the kitchen window.
Storm hugged Ari tightly, then Willow. "Do you really have pictures of that? Before?" He asked.
That same knowing, mysterious smirk pulled at Willow's lips. She glanced at Ari, and something cryptic passed between the two of them. "Sort of. It was a trick. I'll explain later."
"'You're a spineless spectator,'" Chris echoed in raspy hiss. "That is some medieval shit. You went medieval on his ass."
"A specter," Ari corrected. "A ghost. And it's true. That's all people like him are."
"Hey, um, guys," Heather said quietly from the window.
Chris slammed an invisible door. "'Now, get the fuck off my porch!'"
"Guys," Heather repeated, louder.
Turning to Heather, seeing the panic on her face, Storm realized he hadn't heard the gravel crunch of a departing car. The sound of an idling engine still slipped in through the window. A car door slammed.
"Guys, guys—he's coming back."
Ari's dark brow sank. "What?" They turned towards the door, realizing they'd left it unlocked, then turned back, extending a hand towards the kids. "Get back." It only took a moment, but it was one moment too late.
Ari reached for the door as it opened. Keith stood in the space, his eyes full of hate, staring at Ari for one long-drawn instant. Terror surged through Storm's body when he saw what his father held in his hand.
Keith raised his arm, leveled the black revolver at Ari's chest, and fired.
...
Author's Note:
Whoa. I know. This is when it's torture to read week by week. I'm sorry! But if this were a regular book, this is where I would've ended the chapter! There's still more to come, we're almost at the end, I hope you'll stick with me.
"WTF. WTF?! You've got a nice cutesy story and then—this?!"
It's maybe bit of a mood shift, but, to be fair, there has been foreshadowing. Ari mentioned omens and dark events coming multiple times. And, this conflict has been building throughout the story. Storm's dad is not stable, Storm just didn't realize how unstable he really was.
"Dude. You shouldn't say the f-slur."
It's an awful word that I would never ever use, and it feels distasteful to use it in any form. At the same time, this isn't just for shock value. This is how hateful people talk. Not using it, in this situation particularly, felt like purposely, obviously, avoiding reality. We're aware of it, it's out there, and if you're using this word towards someone—you're the asshole. Full stop. Don't use this word. Period. It's not okay. I hope that's clear.
I hope you'll stick with me and visit again next Monday! Our story will be wrapping up soon :0