Layla
I don’t look behind me as I run out of Dalton’s studio. Whatever was in the room with us–I don’t want to see it. The feeling of it watching me—watching us–still drifts over my skin as I grab the banister and slide down the stairs, nearly falling all the way down in my haste to get to Aunt Penny’s room.
I can’t hear myself think over the blaring music. The song plays over, and over, and over, the screeching of the ancient record sending shockwaves through the house.
But I know one thing is true. Dalton isn’t lying. I believe everything he told me. It’s unbelievable, but so is everything that’s happened to me since I arrived at this place, and Dalton has been the only real, tangible thing keeping me grounded.
There has to be a way out of this for both of us.
I yank Penny’s door open and fly into the room.
“It’s
LaylaDeath is cold and empty. It’s silent. It’s lonely.I feel weightless, like I’m being carried. But there’s no sound, no feeling in my body. Just a faint, flashing light.Everyone talks about seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Follow the light--into death.Whenever people talk of the light they follow into heaven—or in my case, it’s probably hell—I always imagined it would be bright white.Not flashing red and blue like this light.“Come on, darling. That’s it, now. Breathe deep.”Air fills my lungs–cool and rich, and my body explodes back to life. My eyes fly open, the flashing lights of half a dozen police and fire vehicles filling the space all around me, blurring my senses.“Big breath for me now,” Robert Wilson says, one of his hands cupping the back of my head as the other keeps an oxygen mask fast
Julia“It’s… Well, uh–”“Can you imagine it, Julia? The garage will go there, and over here–” He waves his hand to the far side of what looks like it used to be a driveway of some kind, but grass has started spreading through every crack in the concrete. “I’m thinking three, four stories. With a pool, of course.”I cross my arms under my breasts, my heels clacking on the concrete. “I’m not seeing it, Jake.”Jake, my husband, rolls his brown eyes as he turns his back to me and spreads his arms wide. “This is twenty fucking acres, babe. We can’t get this in New Orleans.”“I wanted ocean views.”“Then I’ll cut down some trees, baby. Hell, the Gulf is right out there.” He whirls back to me, giving me that charming, cocky smile that made me fall in love with him three years ago. “I promised I’d build you
BaileyI watch the sun gleam off the roof of my car through the window of the breakroom at the Sunshine Clinic, a little urgent care tucked on a busy corner on the outskirts of New Orleans. I check my watch. It’s nearly 6:00 P.M., which means my shift is almost over, thank God. I roll my shoulders and slouch in the creaky, plastic chair, drumming my fingers on the vinyl table top. Jazzie, a fellow nurse and the clinic manager when the doctors aren’t around, walks into the breakroom looking bored and withdrawn. She opens the fridge and pops open a can of diet soda with a heavy sigh. “It’s hotter than hell.”“At least it’s slow today,” I say, glancing at my watch again. It’s now 5:57 P.M., just three more minutes….“Just go, Bailey. None of the doctors are even here right now.”I glance up at Jazzie as she leans against the counter near the fridge and presses the cold soda can to her temple. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and her hairline is peppered with sweat. “Are
TannerI wipe my brow and look down at the scattered, broken power tools lying at my feet. This is the fourth time this has happened in the past month since we started framing. My guys sometimes keep their tools in one of the old outbuildings that survived the fire that destroyed the main house, but lately some strange stuff has been happening. I look up at Jose, my framer, who’s standing with his arms crossed a few feet away. He gives me a shrug. “You check the cameras?” I ask, motioning to the outbuilding–nothing more than a decaying shed that’s probably as old as my grandparents, who are well into their nineties. “Nothing. Not even a raccoon. And the padlock was still on the door.”I run my tongue along my lower teeth. Shit. I nudge one of the drills with my foot. It’s melted, literally. Like someone threw it into a fire. The yellow plastic is now a charred black, and the rest of the tools aren’t in any better shape. I had cameras installed around the property after the second
BaileyHelen and Robert’s house has always been bright and homey. It smells like roses as I step inside, breathing deeply. Helen’s wallpapered formal living room glistens–spotless and freshly dusted. The kitchen is on the other side of the foyer, as well as a dining room and small washroom. The layout is similar to the old Gregory house. All of the old houses were built like this–every room contained, connected by archways and built around a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase. But comparatively, Helen and Robert’s house is much smaller and cozier, as is their heavily wooded property. Helen pours glasses of sweet tea. “He’s upstairs in bed,” she sighs, sipping from her glass. “He’s still coming off the drugs. I was told he’d be woozy for a day or two.”“Is he on any pain medication?”“He has a nerve blocker in his chest right now. Robert doesn’t do well on the heavy duty pain killers they prescribed. They make him sick to his stomach.”“He might be al lright with something over t
TannerBailey sings to the radio over the sound of the faucet, her hands shielded by pink rubber gloves dotted with white daisies. Rain patters the windows in the kitchen as I set a few dishes down next to the sink, smiling down at my girlfriend. God, she’s beautiful, and I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch to have her here. I came home from the job site today to find her in the kitchen up to her elbows in dinner preparations. Cornbread, mashed potatoes with gravy, breaded pork chops, and creamed spinach. I remember the first time I brought her back to my place. I’d offered to cook her dinner to try to impress her, but I only knew how to make spaghetti with sauce from a jar. So, we ate that, and steak. And the next night, at her old apartment, she made me some type of pasta dish with chicken that had me seeing stars and planning our future together. I count my blessings everyday, and she’s always at the very top of that list. “There’s plenty leftover if you’re still hungry.” She grins a
BaileyThe Wilson house is fairly small, snug, and full of memories. I love old houses like these. Every creak step and notch in the floorboards holds a memory, and for the Wilsons, that’s over three decades of marriage and cohabitation. I run my finger over the squeaky clean mantle above the seldom used fireplace. I’m sure it’s just for show. I can’t imagine needing a fire ever in a state like Louisiana, but I sure do like the idea of cozying up in front of a fireplace and reading a book on a cold, snowy winter night. I chuckle to myself at the thought of snow–having never seen it in real life–and go about my business. I’ve set up a little workstation in the study off the living room, which is nothing more than a desk, a crammed bookshelf, and a large safe that takes up most of the tiny room. Robert likes to hunt and fish, and it shows. I eye the boxes of bullets, thankful they’re covered in years’ worth of dust, as I sit down at the cluttered desk and search for Robert’s file in
TannerJose and the rest of the crew have been sitting around kicking rocks for days. That’s just how things go, but this house has been the bane of my existence all summer. Once we clear this inspection, work can start up again, but it’s taken weeks to even get to this point. I scan the behemoth of a house, finally able to see the shape taking form. It’ll be beautiful when it’s done, sure. I’ll make certain of that. While I’m not a fan of modern homes, I’ll leave my mark on this one as best I can. It’ll be the best damn modern home in all of Hahnville. Storm clouds funnel overhead as I walk around the house, checking the work we’ve done. It’s fully framed now, thank god. I’ve replaced every single fucking tool since we started building the foundation in the spring. Jake is finally off my ass about the schedule. It sounds like his wife is changing her tune about living here, which means he’s more involved in making this a home rather than a shell made of white and gray walls to sel
JuliaAs a great woman once said, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.I stand in front of the mirror in the trendy boutique in New Orleans, examining the new strand of precious stones adorning my throat. I’d paid for the mind-blowingly expensive necklace using Jake’s platinum card, which had given me a small sliver of satisfaction.He’d called in the early hours of the morning, begging for me to forgive him. At first, I’d told him that there was no way in hell I’d let him come crawling back to me, but all the while, my heart ached until the burn was almost unbearable.One chance. That’s all I’ll give him.In the meantime, I’ll shamelessly spend down his accounts in preparation for the worst.Because it would be terrible if we divorced, wouldn’t it? I think wistfully of the lifestyle I’ve enjoyed over the last several years, excluding the months spent in solitude on the edge of a fetid swamp. I’d be losing much more than him if I left.Doubt continues to gnaw at me as I gather my bags a
JuliaI can’t stay here.Jake’s been gone all day. In fact, I hadn’t even heard him leave in the first place, and God only knows where he went. But I’m absolutely sure that I don’t want to be here when he gets back.If he comes back.Would that really be so bad, I wonder? It’s true that I hate it out here at the edge of the festering swamp, locked away in this big empty house with only ghosts for company. But without Jake tying me down, I could go anywhere, do anything.I could even find another man, one who would treat me better than the bastard I’d married.A fine blush rises in my cheeks as the memory of Zeke’s passion whispers across my lips. Guilt trickles through me in its wake. I can’t believe we’d kissed. As terrible as Jake’s actions have been, I’ve never once felt the need to seek out another man.But there is something about Zeke that beckons me, drawing me closer like a lighthouse in the dark. It isn’t just that he’shandsome, or even that he’snice to me. I have the uncanny
ZekeSomething dreadful happened last night.I’d been out in the swamp, enjoying the sound of the rain pattering off the soft fronds of the ferns in the underbrush when I’d noticed Jake stumbling drunkenly to the garage.Even worse, I watched from the shadows as he spoke to that thing as though he was just making another shady business deal. Though I wasn’t able to hear what Amos demanded, I think I have a pretty good idea what it is.Who it is.I watched Jake stagger around the property for a while before he got into his car and drove off. Good riddance, in my opinion.But I’m concerned for Julia. I don’t trust Jake for a second, and she doesn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in this sick game.And now I’m lingering at her front door, my hand raised and poised to press the doorbell. For a moment, I don’t think I can go through with it, but then the memory of Jake speaking with Amos flashes through my mind, and I know I have no other option. I have to make sure she’s all right.Thinking
JakeOh God, what have I done?Panic and desperation crash over me in unrelenting tidal waves, dragging me under until I’m drowning in them. I’m sitting on the bed in the guest room, holding my head in my hands and rocking back and forth.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours, probably. At some point, I’d stumbled down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. It sits on the floor by my feet, the amber liquid significantly drained.The alcohol hadn’t helped. I’m unable to numb the tumult that roils inside of me.I hit my wife.She deserved it.The cold, foreign voice slithers through my mind, and I groan, trying to drown it out.I’ve done a lot of questionable things over the years, some more legal than others. And maybe, just maybe, I’d said things to intentionally hurt Julia in the past, but I’d never physically harmed her.Until tonight.She was asking for it.“Shut up!” I whimper, clawing at my temples. “Shut up!”I stand and start pacing in the small space between the bed
JuliaTears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But I know that if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself.I’m lying on the couch in the living room, attempting to watch my favorite reality TV show. After I confronted Jake earlier, I haven’t been able to focus. Racing thoughts flutter through my brain like paper in the wind. I’d optimistically heated up a frozen dinner, but I’d only been able to pick at it before my nausea had overpowered my desire to eat. Now the meal sits, cold and congealed, on the coffee table, all but forgotten.I know I could call Nina for support, but I don’t want to go there until I have all of the facts. And the truth is, I don’t really have many of those at all right now.Yes, Jake’s reaction to my questions all but confirmed my suspicions that he’s nothing more than a cheating bastard. I have no doubt that he’s up to his old tricks, but this time, I’m not going to let him off so easily. I need cold, hard pr
JakeI’m not a coward.It’s not like I was scared and ran away because a fucking light bulb broke, or because the ensuing darkness seemed bigger somehow, alive. No, it was because I simply had business to attend to. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull up in front of the house at the edge of the swamp.Julia probably hadn’t even cared that I’d gone. After all, I’d texted her that I had to go out, and she hadn’t ever responded. Did she even notice I left? God, she sure knows how to make a guy feel wanted in his marriage.A streak of lightning skitters across the leaden sky, followed quickly by a peal of thunder so loud that the car practically rattles around me. It’s not raining yet, though the clouds that loom overhead are the color of a fresh bruise and promise an imminent downpour. Not wanting to ruin my vehicle, I decide to park in the garage instead of the driveway.The rain starts just as I pull inside. Water roars against the roof, and once closed, the automatic door do
ZekeGod, I feel so alive.I close my eyes and let the relentless eye of the sun beat down on me. What does it see when it looks at me? A man? Something more? Something less?And what does Julia see, I wonder?I know it’s dangerous to let my thoughts wander down this path, but it’s as though my mind has become untethered with possibilities. My hand curls around a phantom mug, remembering the feeling of the smooth porcelain against my palm and the heat radiating through my hand as Julia had questioned me with increasing interest.I’d just had coffee with Julia Carter.She wore no makeup, and her hair was mussed from sleep, but that had somehow only made her more beautiful. Her eyes, as green as moss, shone in the fresh morning light. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to brush my fingertips over the soft curve of her lips, but propriety stopped me in my tracks.I wouldn’t disrespect Julia like that. She is too good for me to be thinking about her in such a way.To
JuliaI’m not sure what wakes me.It’s not the sun, that’s for sure. For some reason, the blinds are firmly shut, blocking the early morning light from filtering in through the glass.I blink the sleep from my eyes as I peer into the surrounding dimness. I’m lying in bed, the covers tangled around my legs as though I’d thrashed in my slumber. A dull soreness at the juncture of my thighs reminds me of exactly what Jake and I had been doing last night.But where is Jake now?His side of the bed is empty, the sheets cold and untouched.“Jake?” I call. My voice sounds muted in the still morning air.There’s no response.Sighing, I extract myself from the blankets. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the cool, conditioned air kisses my skin. I grab my robe and shrug it on against the chill before padding over to the bathroom.Like the bedroom, there’s no sign of Jake. I frown. This isn’t like him. Sure, he’s usually an early riser, but he’s not exactly quiet in the mornings. He runs the shower a
JakeThe closer I get to the house, the worse I feel.I notice it the moment I turn onto the winding drive that marks the entrance of the property. The car’s tires slide on the muddy, rutted road, and the frame of the vehicle is so low that I swear I can feel my fillings rattle as I maneuver down the potholed path. For once in my life, I actually regret owning such a fancy ride. This wouldn’t be happening in a truck or an SUV.Cypress branches close in overhead, blotting out the sun with feathery leaves and twisted, mottled wood. The trunks churn on either side of me, grotesque in their stature. Thick underbrush creeps into the road. For a moment, it feels like I’m all alone in this wild place.Dread mounts in my gut as I navigate the familiar turns of the drive. I have a terrible thought that the path will go on forever, that each twist in the road will simply guide me farther away from civilization.But then the trees part, and the mud shifts to patchy gravel that crunches satisfyi