Chapter XXIV: Nightmares

"So did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"About Gaelin Killough?"

Audrey's pen stopped right in the middle of the paper, the delicate purple ink starting to bleed into the white. Her head slowly lifted, hazel eyes moving to the right to stare out of the corner of her peripheral, trying to hear in on the conversation as best as she could without giving herself away.

"What about him?" she heard Mercedes ask, sounding a bit disinterested.

Rhea Samson's voice came out sounding like she was trying to whisper, but obviously didn't know how to keep her voice down, "My stepsister works at the hospital, and she said she saw him be wheeled him, and he was all fucked up like he got beaten with a bat or something. She said it was really bad, like he has a cast on and all that."

"Really?" Zuri responded, "Wow, that's too bad."

At the mention of the blonde's name, Audrey's head turned slightly towards the group of popular kids. Her brows furrowed. Gaelin was in the hospital? Since when? A twinge of worry started running in her chest, her heart rate picking up at the thought of him lying injured. Was he okay, at the least.

"Sounds like Loftis' work," Mercedes commented, "He's always had a vendetta against that guy ever since Kailani died. Right from the get-go, he thought Killough did it, no questions asked."

The mention of the latest school scandal made Audrey frown, and she thought back to the scene that had transpired down at the cafeteria. She remembered the look on Gaelin's face as her and Virgil brought him to the nurse, the way he seemed to regress back into his shell at the brunette's words. She tried to tell him that she knew he would never do anything like that, to ignore Holden, he was just a dick, to no avail. Of course, nobody would probably have a good reaction to having their whole reputation ruined because of an accusation like murder, but Gaelin shut down so immediately it worried her he was going to do something drastic.

"So do you think he did it?" she heard Zuri ask.

"Did what?"

"You know...kill Kailani."

"Who else?" she heard Roy Elmerson comment, "I always thought that freak had something wrong with him. Like, you see those puppets he brought? Who the fuck owns shit like that?"

Audrey's grip on her pen tightened, knuckles whitening from the pressure. Of course they thought it was Gaelin; always had to single out the outsider. It wasn't fair to him; Gaelin never did anything to anybody. Sure, he was a bit disconnected, but the guy had lost his dad and was hospitalized for three months. Who could honestly come out of a mess like that not changed?

She bitterly thought about how some of the kids in school acted when she first transferred- days of putting up with stupid questions of if she were a vampire or had tried to talk to the devil before, tasteless jokes about her being into kinky shit and constant stares that looked like they either wanted to hit her or fuck her. It was always easier for people to judge different rather than try to understand.

"I don't think it was him," Scott Katsukawa, Mercedes' boyfriend, spoke up, "Killough's weird, but to do something like that would require major balls, and the dude's got anything but those."

Mercedes added, "Even if he did, could you blame him? She totally had it coming."

Audrey's eyebrows raised, and for a moment there was silence in the group.

"Harsh, Mercy," Rhea's voice then said.

"What, I'm just telling the truth. Kailani wasn't an angel, there were plenty of people she'd fucked over one time or another who'd want to get back at her. I mean, you remember what she did to Michelle Kiordan when she got tried to write a pass to tell the teacher she bled through her pants? She yelled what it said so loudly the class across the hall heard it! They had to get the counselor to coax Michelle out of the bathroom! Look, I don't condone murder or anything, but that girl was a real piece of work."

Deciding that she'd heard enough, Audrey turned her head back to the front, dropping her fishnet gloved hands in her lap. She stared down at her notebook, gazing at the picture she had been doodling before Mercedes and her friends' gossip spiked her interest. It was a bird, drawn in purple gel ink. The corner of the feathers on its right wing were ruined. The ink had bled into the page.

She fiddled with her silver bracelet, thinking back to Rhea's words. Whatever happened to Gaelin, enough that he had to go to the hospital. She hoped that part was just the truth being stretched or misinterpreted. Either way, it had to be bad; she had noticed how he didn't show up to class that day, though she originally dismissed it as him being sick or just needing a day off from daily stresses. Hearing this, though, made a whole wave of worry ripple through her.

It was ironic. Last year, she barely gave Gaelin a thought. Not that he was a bad guy or anything, but Audrey had had so much going on she always said she didn't have time for anyone at school- hell, she barely hung out with her own friends during those times. Or, at least, that was what she told herself. (It was easier to relieve the guilt of knowing she said she'd never let anyone get mistreated and yet let it happen anyway that way). Now, she probably sounded like a fretting mother. Not that she cared. Gaelin was a good person, and it was obvious he needed someone these days. If she had to be that person, Audrey was more than willing to.

And now, something had happened and he was hurt.

And she was going to get to the bottom of it.

"You think you're safe? Nobody is safe."

There's nothing but darkness all around me.

"W-who's there?" I ask.

"All of them thought that they could control it, that such power could be contained. They were all fools. Even him."

I turn around. The voice is coming from everywhere- not one location, but as if it's floating all around me, like mist in the air. "Who's there?!"

"He believed that his deed could go unpunished. That he could ignore the blood on his hands in the name of righteousness, but even he could not fight his thirst for power, the fool. And in the end, it all came crashing down as his very creations turned against him."

There's a presence right behind me. I suddenly feel cold on the inside, my spine tingling. Against my better judgment, I turn around.

"Try as they might, no one can truly hide the monster they are."

I nearly fall back on my ass, holding back a scream. In front of me is a large creature standing tall at eight feet. His body is so inhuman I feel sick just looking at it- his broad shoulders and giant chest stretch the skin tight, veins bulging like worms underneath. His ribcage sits like chest armor the way it bulges against his stomach. His own face looks like a skull, the mouth looking as if it were fused shut and he ripped it open, ribbons of skin connecting his upper and lower jaws. A skull hangs from his pectorals by a cord. His eyes are a smoldering yellow, as if someone placed two burning hot coals into his sockets.

My throat is tight and I can't find the words. When I do, it comes out as a strangled whisper, "W-who a-a-a-are y-y-you?"

"Even you, as blind as you try to make yourself to be, cannot deny the desire you feel," he ignores my question as he takes a step towards me.

I try to go back, but the behemoth reaches out with a log bony hand, black talons curving like fish hooks, and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"I see the darkness in your heart," he hisses, "The vengeance you crave, the bloodshed you yearn for. They are merely carrying out your will, their very nature calls for it. They take life in order to sustain their own. He tried to fool himself into thinking otherwise, but he was a fool and thought he could play the gods with no consequence; one cannot protect without sacrifice."

Tears prick the corner of my eyes. My heart's almost humming. I feel like I want to piss my pants.

"W-What are you-"

"It is only a matter of time. My father may have been defeated but a mere mortal can never truly destroy a god. And when the time comes, I will rue the day when I am able to drag the lot of you back to Hell myself."

A gasp is the first sound that I make as I tear my eyes open, feeling wide awake. The dull bumpy white of the ceiling stares back at me. I can feel myself shaking under the covers, my heart's beating like a samba. My hands grip the comforter so tightly I can feel my knuckles beginning to hurt. I look out the window. The sunrise has just been completed, everything bright in a pale yellow.

What was that? What did it mean?

I take a deep breath, letting out shaky breaths to try and calm the thundering in my chest. I sit up, wincing at the pain it causes my ribs. I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. Just focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

The sound of Paul's voice makes me jump, and I look out the window again. It's then that I finally notice something that looks like a large stain on my window. What the-?

I get up from the bed and walk over. It looks like some clear gel. I furrow my brows, and then my eyes land on the streaks of yellow.

The roof is splattered with what looks like egg yolks. They've streaked down, bits of white shell here and there like sprinkled glitter. Something flapping in the wind catches my eye, and I look out to see the tree in front of the yard covered in toilet paper.

I hear Mom go out the front door; it's impossible to understand what Paul's saying, but his tone is loud enough that I can hear it all the way from up here. I look to the puppets. They're all still on their shelf, not moving.

"Stay you, you guys," I command as I step out and head down the stairs. Going down each step makes the bruises on my legs thump dully with pain, but I push it aside and grab a jacket before going out the front. Mom's trying to calm Paul down, as he looks like he's about to have an aneurysm- his face is tomato red and I can even see the vein in his neck bulging. From there I can see streams of more toilet paper hanging from the water drains and the bushes.

"What's going on?" I ask as I come outside.

Mom whips around, one hand on Paul's shoulder. "Oh, sweetie, go back inside. You need to be taking it easy-"

"-I swear if those damn fools try and tell me they can't press charges, we are SUING their asses-" Paul rambles to himself, looking like fifty blood capillaries are about to pop.

Something bright pink gets my attention, and I turn to the garage. Immediately, the familiar black pit in my stomach opens up, and a giant coat of dread settles on me.

MURDERER is written right on the garage door. Bright red spray paint violates the slightly dull white of it, extra drips of paint dripping down for added dramatic effect. The letters are a bit smashed together, like the person overestimated the room available, but they reach the floor and the top of the door. Added with the broken eggs that have been thrown all over the roof and the wet toilet paper decorating the corners like wet streamers, and it looks like one big amateur haunted house scene.

Obviously Holden and Tony's work.

I hear voices, and turn to see the neighbors are looking at us. Staring at their artwork; some of the younger kids have their phones out. Most of them are staring at me- maybe from the shock of my injuries, maybe from the judgment of seeing the big red letters and remembering how the cops were here and putting two and two together, maybe both. They think I did it; just like Holden does, just like how everyone else at school does.

For the moment, the dread wears away.

And it's replaced by a burning, smoldering anger.

Screw them.

They don't know me. They don't know what I've been through, what I've had to put up with. But no, they listen to the voices of two brain dead pieces of trailer trash and suddenly they know everything about me.

They don't know anything at all.