The beginning...or the end?

Coping with Edward’s death felt like nothing compared to watching Julia pack my suitcase  “Why can’t Rachel stay here?” Michael asked from the floor of the closet, where he and I were camped out.  “Bryan’s not even that old.  He’s only in college.  It’s not fair that he gets her!”

“I know it’s not fair," Julia said.  "But there isn’t anything we can do about it.  We just have to accept it.”

“He’s not her father, is he?” 

Julia let out a sharp laugh.  “Heavens, no!”

“Then why does he get her?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“But he’s mean!”

“He’s not mean.  He’s just—Bryan.  I’m sure he’ll be very nice to Rachel.”  Julia pasted a brave but thoroughly transparent smile on her face.  “And Rachel will still get to visit.  It will be fun.”

Well, Julia sounded so unconvinced of how fun my impending doom with Bryan Jennings would be that it was impossible to believe her.  Neither did I agree that we should passively accept the fate that had befallen us.  It was me, after all, and not her who would be going off with the oldest son bright and early tomorrow morning. 

Tortured by that knowledge, I tossed and turned for much of the night.  Once I finally did drift off, it was only to dream of a giant, dark ogre—his eyes glittering black and cold as he dragged me off into a cave from which there was no escape.

           

This nightmare had begun to fade into another one involving giants when a familiar voice broke into my consciousness. 

Rachel!  You have to get up!

My eyes fluttered open.  Julia was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in her green velvet bathrobe.  A cigarette dangled out of the corner of her mouth.  “I know you’re tired,” she told me, “but it’s time to get up.”

   

I blinked at the traitorous sun streaming in through the blinds.   With a start I bolted into an upright position.

It was morning.

I stared at Julia as she cast a nervous glance behind her to the empty doorway.  When she returned her haunted eyes to me, the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end.  Instinctively I pulled my blanket over my mouth, in anticipation of the Poltergeist moment I knew must follow.  “Rachel,” Julia hissed.  “He’s here.” 

There was no question this time as to which “he” she referred to.

 

Bryan.  The oldest son. 

Downstairs.

 

Waiting.

Waiting for me.  

Don’t make me go,” I begged Julia, but she, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, just hugged me hard.  “It’s okay,” she croaked out.  “You’re going to be just fine.”

*From my free serialized novel, A Slow Twisting Place.  You can read all currently available chapters (1-56) here.