“Uh, yeah,” I said, almost laughing. “That’s definitely something
twelve-year-old
girls do when they have sleepovers.”
“Oh, right,” he said, taking another bite. “I get it. You’re scared. No big deal—”
“Pa-hah! Scared?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Okay, then,” he said, nodding at me once. “Truth or dare?”
I let go of a heavy sigh to clearly indicate my aggravation. Not that I had any reason to believe our little game of
Truth or Dare
would get out of hand, but I had every reason to believe it was Luke’s way of trying to get me to open up. If I picked
truth
, he’d ask me something about therapy. If I picked
dare
… well, who knew?
“Dare,” I said, because that was clearly the lesser of two evils.
Luke’s lip quirked up almost instantly, and I suddenly found myself wishing I’d just admitted to being a coward.
I
really
didn’t want to play along….
“
I dare you
,” he said slowly, and then he rubbed his chin. “I dare you to reenact—in vivid dramatic detail—your fall through the attic floor this afternoon.”
I dropped my jaw and stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re serious?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, throwing both hands up. “I have a hard time believing it was as bad as you’re saying it was.”
“
Do you not see my eye
?” I asked, pointing at my face.
“You’re not getting out of it,” he said, pointing at the open space between the coffee table and the TV. “You have some acting to do, Julie Little.”
I glared at him for a moment before dropping my plate back on the table.
“Atta girl,” he said as I stood up.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
I spent the next five minutes doing exactly what he’d dared me to do. And maybe I wasn’t the best actress in town, but I thought I did a pretty great job delivering a fairly accurate play-by-play. He seemed amused throughout the entire reenactment, but I started to wonder if he’d even wanted to see it in the first place.
It almost seemed as though he’d only dared me to do it because he knew that it would make me laugh.
And it had.
I’d made such a fool of myself.
After ‘falling through the floor’ for the second time that day, I threw myself back on the couch and stared at him.
“Don’t think you’re getting off so easily,” I said, tucking my feet up beneath me. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he said immediately. “Definitely truth.” He pointed over at the spot where I’d just acted out the attic scene. “I don’t do dares… for obvious reasons. I’m not about to make an idiot of myself.”
“
Oh, shut up
,” I said, and he smiled. “Truth… truth… truth….” I pursed my lips together.
I could’ve thought of something serious, but then I feared that he’d turn around and throw that back in my face with a serious question of his own.
To keep things as light and carefree as possible, I nodded once and asked, “If you
had
to get a tattoo, where would you get it, and what would it be?”
“If I
had
to get a tattoo,” he said, squinting at me. “What makes you think I don’t already have one?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I said, grinning slyly. “But I’m confident that you don’t.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Interesting,” he said, nodding slowly as he tried to read my goofy expression. “Then, I’d have to say… a pretty little butterfly on my right ankle.”
“You would not,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m so glad to see you’re taking this seriously.”
“Your turn,” he said, kicking his feet up on the table in front of the couch.
“Really?” I asked. “That’s the answer you’re sticking with?”
“Of course.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Truth or dare?”
There was no way—no way in the world—I was going to pick
dare
again after what’d happened the first time.
“Truth.”
“How do you know I don’t have a tattoo?”
I suddenly felt my face flush as I thought back to Piqua and remembered our first morning in the cabin together. Luke had just gotten out of the shower, wet and naked (for the most part), and he had no idea that I’d watched him from the balcony as he sifted through his bag of clothes.
I’d spent too long watching him, admiring everything from his thick arms to his strong legs down to his missing toe.
I’d studied him closely. I eyed every bit of him that I could see.
And unless there was a tattoo hiding somewhere beneath that small towel—which I highly doubted—I knew he didn’t have one.
“I
may
have seen you naked,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
Luke’s eyes widened for a minute, and he shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, but it is,” I said, unable to restrain a laugh. “Piqua. The cabin. You. Shower. Naked. Noooo tattoo.”
“You saw me in the shower?”
“Not
in
the shower,” I said. “But after a shower, yeah. You pranced right into the living room wearing nothing but a towel; what was I supposed to do, look away?”
“You were asleep.”
“No, I
really
wasn’t.”
He dropped his jaw and tried to act shocked, but his acting skills were only up to par with mine.
“I feel so violated.”
“I’m sure you do,” I teased.
Luke and I continued our game for a while. As much as it should’ve been the most embarrassing thing I’d ever done, I truly enjoyed every second. We leaned toward
truth
a lot more than
dare
, and in turn I’d asked some pretty interesting questions. My favorite was probably
do you ever plan to tell Lonnie the truth about Rebecca and Molly?.
And then I learned just how loyal he was to keeping his sister’s secret. He swore he’d never tell his dad until Rebecca was ready, and he assumed she was getting closer every day….
Luke’s questions were a little harder to answer than mine, but he never came close to asking anything about therapy.
We ended our game sometime after midnight, and I helped Luke clean up the small mess we’d made since coming back to the apartment.
“Okay,” Luke said, sweeping my bags off the floor by the door. He kept a reasonable distance as he led me down the hallway. “Bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door at the end of the hall. “My room,” he said, looking toward the closed door on the left. He nodded at the door on our right, reached around my waist, and pushed it open. “Your room.”
Luke’s guest bedroom was everything I’d expected—small, but clean.
I let my eyes wander the room, but there wasn’t much to take in. There was a tidily made bed positioned against the farthest wall. A small nightstand—holding a silver lamp and an alarm clock—sat to the left of the four-poster bed. A five-drawer dresser stood next to the closet, and—other than a few unlabeled boxes stacked in the corner—that was about it.
“The sheets are clean,” he said, but I hadn’t doubted it. I’d come to expect that everything at Luke’s place
stayed
clean. “And it’s late, so….” Luke’s words faded into a yawn as he carried my bags over to the bed. He placed them on the mattress and turned back to me with a half-smile. “See you in the morning, then?”
“Are you telling me to go to sleep?” I asked, standing in the middle of the hardwood floor.
“Do whatever you want, kid,” he said, almost smiling as he brushed by me and turned back in the doorway. “But I’m heading to bed. Four a.m. comes faster than you may think.”
“Okay,” I said, opening my arms to invite a hug.
Luke stepped forward and accepted my gesture, and I could’ve drowned inside his hold. His strong arms smothered me, pressing me against his warm chest.
“Thanks for everything,” I said, hoping he knew how genuinely I meant it. “I’ve had fun tonight.
“Good.” He squeezed me a little tighter. “Sweet dreams, Jules,” he whispered. “And I mean that, okay? Kick those nightmares in the ass.”
“Yeah,” I said, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I’ll do that.”
“You know where to find me if you need anything.”
I nodded once, and Luke backed away.
“Night.”
“Night,” I said, watching as his chest rose with one deep breath. He backed across the threshold—still watching me with a blank expression—and then he turned, opened his bedroom door, and ducked inside.
I walked across the room, opened my bag, and pulled out a pair of pink cotton pajamas. I tossed the rest of my stuff into a corner and carried my night clothes to the bathroom (which—to no surprise at all—was immaculate from floor to ceiling).
I admired the glossy white tile beneath my feet before letting my eyes study the rich navy paint on the walls. And it wasn’t until my gaze landed upon Luke’s shower stall that I caught a breath in my throat and closed my eyes.
Unlike our bathrooms at home, Luke’s place didn’t have a shower-tub combo.
It was just one, single, solitary shower stall.
I hadn’t stood in a shower since Piqua….
Suddenly feeling a little lightheaded, I took a few backward steps and sat down on the closed toilet seat. I dropped my head in my hands and pressed my eyes together to shut out the light.
And in a flash, I saw Conan Milton’s twisted face as he ripped the shower curtain back. I felt the striking pelts of hot water as it slammed against my skin. I sensed his evil presence lurking above me—watching me, taunting me, waiting for me to beg for mercy. I watched him hold the gun to my face, and I saw the life drain from his eyes as his body crashed to the floor.
And there it was all over again…hopelessness, abandonment, fear….
“One,” I whispered, taking in a deep breath. “Two,” I said, letting the breath pass through my barely open lips. I normally continued to ten, but after only counting to two, I found myself gaining a little clarity.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head.
No longer feeling the need to clean up after a long and hurtful day, I stood up, retrieved my folded pajamas from the counter, and started toward the door. It was only then that I noticed that the door I headed for was one of two doors in the bathroom. The other, I guessed, must’ve been a small closet or a secondary entryway to Luke’s bedroom.
Wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and put the day behind me, I ignored the second doorway and exited from the same one I’d come in through.
I passed Luke’s bedroom as quietly as possible and reentered mine. I changed quickly, pulled the sheets back, slid in, closed my eyes, and prayed that the night wouldn’t be the same as all the others.
But I already knew that it would.
The moment I closed my eyes…the nightmares would start again.
And there was nothing I could do to stop them.
Chapter Seven
“Mom?” I asked, and my voice bounced off the barren walls. I glanced around the room and waited for another sign of life, but emptiness in my gut told me I wouldn’t get a response. Something was wrong… something was seriously wrong…. “Dad? Luke?” I asked, and my eyes filled with tears. “What’s going on, guys? Where are you?”
I dropped my head and wiped away a single tear that had fallen to my cheek. And as I opened my eyes again and stared down at my feet, I suddenly realized that I’d been standing in a dark pool of liquid.
“Blood,” I said under my breath, and then I heard my mother’s shrill scream.
“Mom!”
I ran for the stairs as fast as I could. I didn’t know where the strength had come from, but I’d somehow fought the gravitational force that’d tried to paralyze my body. I fought it, and I moved so quickly that I tripped over my feet as I rushed up the staircase and closer to the sound of my mother’s cry.
I reached the second floor and darted for my parents’ bedroom, but the room was empty.
Another scream.
I followed the sound back down the steps, stopping dead in my tracks as I reached the middle of the staircase. I clung to the banister as my eyes fell to the pile of dead bodies stacked at the foot of the stairs.
Mom….
Dad….
Matt and Charlie….
Derek….
Kara….
Lonnie and Grace….
Bruno….
Luke….
All dead.
A deep laugh resounded through the room, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
Conan.
I turned on the steps and looked up to the second floor landing, and Conan Milton stood with a smirk on his lips and his head tilted playfully to one side.
“Julie Little,” he said, and he licked his bottom lip slowly. “Just like your mother… beautiful
and
stupid.”
Thursday, June 06 | 2:03 a.m.
I gasped for breath.
I sat straight up and held my chest, feeling the strong beat of my heart as it pounded like a drum.
I looked at the clock on the nightstand—2:03, right on time.
I swallowed hard and swung my legs around the side of the bed. My feet landed on the cold floor, and I stood up slowly to keep from losing my balance. Walking to the bathroom, I kept my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.
It was just a dream.
After I’d rinsed my face with cold water and patted it dry, I caught my reflection in the mirror and let my stare linger. My blue eyes had faded to gray beneath the bruises, and small wrinkles bracketed my tight lips.
No longer able to look at myself, I turned back to leave the bathroom, and my gaze fell upon the second door once again.
You know where to find me if you need anything.
I reached for the knob and let my forehead fall forward on the door.
I needed him, I did.
I needed his love, his comfort, his assurance.
But if I knew Luke—and I was pretty certain I did—he’d only be angry if I woke him up two hours before his alarm was set to go off.
I convinced myself that all I needed was a glimpse, just a tiny glance at his face to give me a little bit of reassurance. I cracked the door, and the bathroom light flooded into his dark bedroom.