“It’s not that big a deal. Just a tantrum,” I say.
“Just a tantrum? You’ve smashed hundreds of dollars’ worth of your stuff in your ‘just a tantrum’,” argues Dad.
“Lyss, some of that stuff in there you cherished. You would scream at us if we leaned against your signed posters or when we touched one of your pictures. You’ve destroyed all of that now. We’re worried.”
“And your vanity. Practically brand new,” Dad mutters under his breath, although he’s way off in that case. I hear what they’re saying, but all of that seems petty compared to Adam.
“Just take a bath, and get the nail polish out of your hair,” Mom says.
“We’ll never get the nail polish out of these clothes. All trash,” grunts Dad.
I get up and head over to the bathroom, grabbing a towel on the way. I turn the hot water on and flip the switch to keep it from draining. While the bath is running I look at myself in the mirror. I’m surprised at myself. Although I don’t feel it, I can see why my parents are worried. There is what seems like a gallon of nail polish splashed across my body. Some of it is clotting my hair together and my clothes… at least they’re night clothes. There’s no way I’ll get all of this cleaned up in a single bath, and right now I really don’t care to.
I stop the water, undress, and climb in. I draw the curtain and lay my head to rest against the edge of the tub even though my face and hair have the most nail polish damage, and will be the most difficult to clean. The hot water burns my skin a little, but it’s soothing as well. I just rest here, letting the hot water calm me down. I hope they’re not expecting me to finish quickly.
What have I done though? Not to my room, but to Adam. Is there some way I could have avoided this? Is there some drastic turn of events I caused that led to this? If I hadn’t gotten up to rescue Shana, we’d be in Michigan already. We’d be safe, but then I’d spend my whole life wondering if I could have saved her, and now that I have tried, I’m going to spend my whole life regretting Adam’s disappearance. Whether I live to be an old woman, or if I die trying to get him back, it’s never going to go away.
I lay my head back, adjusting my position in the water. I close my eyes and breathe deep, and exhale in a sorrowful sigh.
“I’ll never find peace, will I?” I ask myself. I rest here for a few more seconds, trying to harvest whatever peace I can get, when I have a very unwelcome guest.
“Go away,” I cry as the static appears. My voice is already cracked and I can feel the tears coming. Stop crying damnit! I tell myself. It’s just what he wants.
I open my eyes and turn my head to the side. He’s here, just inside the door. I can see his silhouette outside the shower curtain. His black, slim form rendered imperfectly still by his jagged contortions. “Why?” I ask.
No response.
“What have I done to deserve this?”
He just stands there.
“Give him back.”
Nothing.
“Please,” I cry, but still nothing. I am about to turn away from him, when he starts moving- really moving. I watch as he leans over, and I almost think his eye-searing head is going to peek over the shower curtain, when I see more limbs come from him.
These are identical to his arms that come down below the bathtub rim, except they extend from his back. What is he doing? I wonder. Suddenly his form shrinks until it’s normal human size aside from his arms and tendrils. I hear laughter. I recognize the voice.
“Jason,” I say aloud.
“You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. His figure morphs again. Why do I hear Jason?
“You don’t deserve to be freed from this!” shouts Leanne angrily. He can mimic Leanne too?
“Stop,” I cry, but his figure morphs.
“Why didn’t you save him? You rescued your friend instead of my brother. My five-year-old brother. Don’t you think he deserves to be saved?” accuses Lindsay. Lindsay is gone too? Why haven’t I heard about this? He must have taken her recently, or maybe the police just didn’t relay it to us due to our own troubles.
“Please stop,” I cry, but he morphs again.
“Alyssa… why won’t you help me? You helped Shana, but I’m your brother. You won’t help me?” asks Adam in a pleading tone. That one hits home and I can’t help but cry loudly.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I say. “Give him back to me,” I beg.
“Give him back and I’ll come. I’m stronger than him. I’ll last longer. Just let him go and I’ll come,” I offer hysterically. I see Adam’s long and slender hand reach out and through the curtain. I grab it and am greeted by a wave of static, but I don’t care. I just want Adam back. I climb to my knees and clasp both of my hands around Adam- or the fiend’s.
“Just let him go. Just let him go,” I repeat over and over.
The hand jerks away and I look back to see the fiend returning to his normal form. He’s not laughing like I expect him to be, instead he seems menacing. He’s assuming a posture that implies that he’s about to attack. Is he going to take me? If he does will he give back Adam? I feel a surge of the static screech, and I close my eyes in response. I can’t breathe. I flail and struggle but something is wrong. I feel consciousness slipping. He’s killing me. No, I want to see Adam freed first.
“No…” I try and scream, but it’s distorted, and I can’t draw the breath to continue. I lose control and panic. I open my eyes again and notice something. I’m underwater. I thrust myself up and have to cough water out before being able to gaspingly draw a much needed breath.
Was it just a dream? No this entity works with dreams. He’s a living nightmare. What just happened was him at work. Maybe I fell asleep when I closed my eyes, and slipped underwater, or maybe he forced me into a trance. I don’t know, but I hurry up and do what I came here for and scrub as much nail polish off my skin as I can. I have to use my nails to pull it off my skin, and by the time I get it all off my skin is red and tender from the scratching.
When I finish I climb out and look around at the water mess I made when flailing about. How could my parents not come to my aid when they heard that commotion, unless the monster masked it somehow? I notice in the steamy mirror that I’ve missed a few spots particularly in the hair area, but I let it go. I ponder the dream I just had.
“What do I do?” I ask myself. There’s a knock on the door.
“Alyssa, the sheriff wants to talk to you,” says Mom.
“The sheriff?” I ask.
“Yes he says it’s important. Will you hurry up? He’s on the phone,” she says.
“Alright.” Instead of blow drying my hair I wrap a towel around it and walk out of the bathroom. Garbed in nothing but two towels I take the phone from Mom and head down the hall to my room. I almost faint when I look at the damage I caused. No wonder my parents freaked.
“H-Hello?” I answer the phone, realizing the sheriff is still waiting.
“This Alyssa Redwood?” asks Sheriff Fraser.
“Yes sir,” I answer.
“I have some news. It may be good or bad, but it involves you.”
“Uh-huh?”
“We found Mario Douglas,” he says.
“The bus driver?”
“Yeah, one of our men arrested him outside the woods. Listen he doesn’t seem to be himself, and he keeps saying your name. We want to bring you down here and see if maybe he’ll give you some answers. If he’s just jabbering on, well, it can’t hurt. Would you be willing to talk with him for us?” he asks.
“Well yeah. I mean if my parents are okay with it,” I answer.