I do not own American Horror Story: Coven.

I do not own zombie boys. *relief*

On Dry Land

Chapter 12: She Brings Me Back


No matter where I am, how lost in the darkness I am, Zoe always brings me back.

She did it when I was dead.

She did it when I was alive-but-not-alive.

Zoe always brings me back.

She said we were leaving. The coven, the house, the city.

She said we were going to Epcot.

I don't know where or what Epcot is.

I just know I can't go.

Because the world is too big out there.

Too big and scary and what if I lose control?

What if I can't control all the badness inside of me?

What if I hurt somebody?

What if I hurt Zoe?

I can't go.

I'm scared.

I don't want to tell her I'm afraid.

I don't want her to hate me or be mad at me or not love me anymore.

But I have to trust her.

And so I tell her.

"I'm afraid."

And she doesn't understand.

Because she thinks it's all gone away, my bad darkness.

It's not.

I'm afraid, Zoe.

". . . of me hurting you . . . or somebody else."

Ms. Fiona's fix helps me control it.

So far.

Voicing these thoughts, hearing them out loud, knowing sweet Zoe's hearing them too makes me cry.

I don't want to.

Mad Madison says men don't cry like babies.

Mad Madison's wrong about a lot of things.

Maybe she's wrong about this.

But I still don't want to.

I've been trying to do better. Be stronger, be smarter, be calmer.

For me. And Zoe.

But sometimes the darkness inside talks to me.

And I worry I'll listen.

Zoe doesn't.

Zoe's strong. And brave.

And next to me.

She touches me, holds me, talks to me.

She doesn't hate me or my darkness or my tears.

She just believes in me.

"I'm not scared of you," she says softly.

Maybe she should be.

I try to tell her. I try.

"I love you, Zoe."

And I do, I really do. So much.

"But it's not your decision."

But I don't get through to her. She doesn't listen.

She pulls me back, runs her fingers through my hair in that way she knows I like that calms me, and speaks quiet words in my hungry ears that sound like they belong to other people.

I let her talk, but my darkness, my fear talks back.

And I turn and put my hands on her fragile, delicate head. Too quickly and it scares her. The dark voice inside me laughs because it knows what I could do to her. So swift and abrupt she'd never see it coming. She'd never have time to defend herself.

And I could lay her head, loose and wobbly on its broken neck on my shoulder and hold her for a while, pretending she wasn't dead, pretending I hadn't just killed my light.

And talk to her and pretend the dark voice in my head's not laughing at me and my uncontrollable badness.

But I love Zoe. I don't want to hurt her or scare her. So I push the voice away and carefully relax my fingers and run them through her silky, soft hair.

Kiss her cute little nose.

And try to see myself the way she does, try to believe in the possibility of myself the way she does.

I try.


So we run away together.

We try.

I want to believe we'll be okay.

I want to believe I'll be okay with Zoe next to me.

Because I love her.

And she loves me.

Though I don't know why.

We run for the bus and hold onto each other.

We smile, we laugh.

I'm excited, feeling good.

When I look at her, I forget about my badness and the dark voice inside.

Because the light is in her eyes and she looks like an angel all over again.

And I love her so much that I'm risking everything, all my sanity, and carefully practiced control, just to run away with her and make her happy.

And I love her.

I love you, Zoe.

And we make it, we just make it to the bus, out of breath and giggling, we make it.

I sit down in the very front seat so I can see everything and don't miss anything new.

Zoe sits beside me, her long, straight hair tangled and her pale cheeks pink.

I'm breathing hard and fast.

And I can't believe we've made it.

But did we?

Really?


We did.

A little.

We get off the bus in a place Zoe calls Orlando.

I kinda remember it. Something about a talking mouse and a goofy dog?

We walk everywhere and eat orange juicy fruit.

Zoe laughs and the sun is in her smile and her eyes.

I kiss her. Over and over, I kiss her.

Her lips, her tongue, her skin, taste like that bright, juicy, orange fruit we're eating.

She's more delicious than ever before.

And she laughs and smiles and lets me.

Like she wants me to.

I feel like we're free.

And happy.

And I try to be good.

It's easy when I look at Zoe.

It's so warm here, she says. We could camp out under the stars. Make love in the moonlight.

Then she blushes a little and it's adorable.

I smile at her, drinking her joy in like an elixir of life and freedom and happiness.

Anything she wants, I'll do.

Just to feel the way I do now. And to see the happiness and freedom that she feels.

We sit under a dead, rotted tree and eat the orange fruit (it's actually called an 'orange', isn't that nicely convenient?) and talk and laugh like we're normal people.

The tree is just a tree. It doesn't seem like a reflection of my dead, rotted soul. Not right then anyway.

The sun's warm and sinks into my every pore, warming me all the way from my bones out.

The fruit tastes delicious. It makes my body feel alive and tingly, like I'm healthy and normal.

And it feels so good.

I haven't felt so good since Ms. Fiona fixed me, since Zoe brought me back.

I'm not even sure if I ever felt quite this good even when I was a real boy.

I think we might be okay. I want to believe it so much.

And I try to be good. I really do.


But when that drunk, smelly guy shows up and yells at Zoe, I hate him.

When she says peaceful words and he yells back at her, I hate him.

I hate him so much I hit him, snap his neck, and kill him for sucking the freedom and innocence and joy out of her face and out of our day with his mean ugliness, so like Mad Madison's.

And Zoe screams my name and I know I've been bad again.

That I've ruined everything, even more than he did.

And that I was right all along, that I couldn't do it.

She seems a little surprised at herself when she brings him back to life.

I'm not, not really.

She brought me back.

And I was dead a lot longer.

And in a lot more pieces too.

So this guy, being dead a few seconds, is a cinch for sweet Zoe.

But she still seems surprised by it all the same.

And then she speaks to me.

She says she's not going to be selfish, that she's not going to run away and avoid her responsibilities like Fiona did.

She says she'll protect and guide her coven even though she doesn't know to how to do that yet.

And then she says one more thing.

"We have to go back, Kyle."

And I'm still not surprised.

Just sad.


Thanks to brigid1318 (yeah, yeah, I'm a closet Gaga fan myself, shhh, don't tell), MaverickPaxAPunch, and the Many Adjectived Guest (dang, that was awesome!) for your excellent reviews.

And by the way, Many Adjectived Guest, demand anything you like, it means you're excited about the characters and the story. And hopefully you saw some sweetness here in this chapter. I've got a really excellent reunion chapter all written out for Saturday. So have faith, yes? I'll bring when I can. And bring it good. I hope. ;)