Chapter 18: Not Afraid
Zack awoke to the feeling of her fingertips stroking down the back of his head, through his messy hair. As awareness dawned, he first recognized the surface his cheek pressed against was somehow softer than the down pillows on the bed. Ray held his head cradled to her bare chest, as if he were little more than a stuffed animal. "Good morning," she whispered softly, into his ear.
"W'time is it?" he asked drowsily, yawning.
Ray hummed. "Around 9:30, I think," she assumed, without a clock in sight.
"Too early," he said, shifting to bury his face against her skin. "Let's go back to sleep."
"You've been asleep for almost eleven hours," she stated, almost pouty, and he groaned slightly, wondering why she felt the need to keep track—supposing himself forever doomed to deal with her compulsive nagging that couldn't even have mercy despite the fact that he was hardly awake. Half of him had to wonder if she genuinely cared that he'd overslept, or if she was just bored and wanted him to entertain her.
"Fine," he sighed, making no effort to move, though she felt his lashes fluttering against her skin, slowly forcing himself to rouse. She hummed, satisfied enough, pulling him a little closer, nuzzling her cheek to the top of his head. In return, she felt him shift, taking a tuft of her hair in hand, playfully fiddling with the end.
"Hey, Zack?" she said suddenly, her tone more thoughtful than he had the ability to entertain, indicating she'd probably been awake a while. He gave a lazy "hm?" in reply. "Did you know," she went on, "that you have a middle name?"
The odd statement caught him off-guard, certainly inciting awareness a bit more. "Huh?" He turned slightly, pulling her to lay at his side now so they looked one another in the eye. "Nuh-uh," he corrected her, because he'd definitely know something like that about himself if it were the case.
"You do," Ray replied simply. "I found your birth certificate." She could even show it to him—not that it'd prove much to an illiterate man. "Your middle name is Leigh," she told him, to which he let out an uncomfortable "eaugh", scowling at her.
Really, Leigh?
"Then I definitely don't," he decided, and Ray exhaled, amused. "Forget you know that," he told her, and Ray merely nodded agreeably (silently knowing she was never going to let either of them forget.)
"Also," Ray went on, "I found out the year you were born," she explained. "19[XX], which means you're twenty-four. So you're more like ten years older than me instead of seven," she stated, like it didn't matter. Of course, Zack, once again, groaned uncomfortably. Shifting, Ray felt his middle fingertip sharp on her skin as he flicked her forehead, inciting a small "ow" in reaction.
Telling him something like that after the already reprehensible thing they'd done last night?
"You have the worst timing, y'know that?" he said, and while she'd been told as much before, Ray shrugged, disinterested, rubbing the point of impact where he'd hit. The fact was of little consequence to her, the difference in their ages being little more than a formality at this point. It'd seem he didn't really mind much in the end, as he pulled her against his chest, pressing his face against her forehead. "Just when I thought I couldn't get any more fucked-up for you, ya find a way to make it worse," he sighed, almost wistfully.
Well, since he wondered...
"There is… another thing," Ray added tepidly, figuring now as horrible a time as any to say the rest, and noticing the tone of her voice, again, Zack's eyes opened slightly as he rose a brow, unsure if he wanted to hear. "You know the man who lit you on fire? The one who stabbed me, the one you killed?"
Uh, he sure as hell wasn't about to forget?
"What about him?" he asked cautiously.
"Well," she paused, as if working herself up to what she needed to say, "he's… my father's brother—my uncle," Ray explained.
Against her, Zack blinked in surprise. "No shit?"
He felt Ray nod her head, and while the fact alone was surprising enough, if he didn't know any better, Zack could've sworn he'd heard a hint of hesitation in her voice to say more. "And," sure enough, "ten years ago, he and your mother… used to be married before they got a divorce." Ray cleared her throat. "Meaning, at one point," she trailed off, and Zack let her go to sit up slightly, looking her in the eye, the dusty cogs in his mind already beginning to turn as he felt suddenly somehow uncomfortable, reality dawning on him slowly whether he liked it or not, "we were cousins."
Slowly, Ray sat up as well, never breaking eye-contact.
"Like, first cousins."
Zack gazed back like a deer in headlights.
"And we were almost cousins again."
After a moment of processing the fact, his tired mind already having trouble adjusting to wakefulness atop this, he shifted, slinging his legs over the side of the bed, blinking in confusion for a long few moments. He hunched over slightly, covering his eyes with his hand, already feeling the makings of a stress headache creeping up.
"Y'know?" he finally said. "You've almost got me believin' in God these days, 'cause I'm positive, if He's real? He really, really fuckin' hates me."
Us, Darling—the communal "us".
"But, hey," he sighed with a humorless laugh, stretching before flopping his hands back to his knees, "all par for the course for the sick fuck killer who slammed the teenage girl he abducted outta wedlock, am I right?" he said bluntly, 'cause there was no changing how messed up that much had been on its own. "Anyway, no regrets, sure as fuck worth it, ten outta ten, would commit the crime again."
"Do you always have to be so crude?" she asked reasonably, sighing. He could at least pretend to be romantic for once.
He pointed back to her. "Hey, that ain't what you said last night," he quipped, to which Ray reached out and swatted his wrist. He flinched slightly. "Geez, sorry," he said, knowing he was lucky she didn't threaten to wash his mouth out with soap and cyanide. Sitting up, she scooted a little closer regardless, wrapping her arms around him from behind, forgiving him easily. She withheld a pensive pause.
"Also," she said softly, pressing her cheek to his back as she drawled on reluctantly, causing Zack to sigh, "there's something else."
"What now?"
"It's…" Ray exhaled quietly as her lashes fluttered, arms around him growing tighter.
While she knew he hadn't cared to hear any of it in the first place, he did deserve a few answers to the questions of his life, about who he really was, and though he could handle the discomfort reluctantly well enough, she had to wonder if learning anything else might prove to be more difficult. Despite everything, she didn't want to hurt him, and the notion that God wasn't particularly fond of him felt somehow painfully true, but it'd only add insult to injury at this point, to let him know how deeply, and she couldn't help thinking that maybe some things were better left unsaid.
"It's nothing."
"Huh?" he replied on the contrary, a little annoyed she'd drag it out like that just to drop it. "Don't leave me hangin'?"
"I said it's nothing," Ray repeated in seeming resolution, but even he could tell there was something more to the matter.
"Hey, c'mon, you—" he started, agitation imminently clear in his tone, because she knew better than that, but before he could get far at all, he was distracted by the feeling of her fingertips on his lower stomach, tracing the definition of his hip bones lightly. To make it worse, sweetly, she pressed her lips to his back, kissing up his spine as she sent chills down it.
Oh, unfair.
Great, the girl who already had him on a leash found a whole new way to take control. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, simultaneously knowing this was likely the new normal, so he should probably just get used to it, but he wasn't about to give up without a fight. With a playfully devious grin, he grabbed her hands, swiftly turning to pin her to the bed by her wrists as he hovered over her. He straddled her waist.
"You're a little tease, you know that?"
Ray merely turned her head slightly, peering to him from the side. "What do you mean?" She lowered her lids however seductively, her tone innocent on the contrary. "I'm not doing anything."
Zack rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut the hell up." Removing his hand from her wrists, he pinched either side of her face, pulling upwards her cheeks so she fashioned a goofy sort-of grin against her will. The way it looked was funny, silly, and it made him laugh. "Now that's a face!" he said as he'd yet to relent.
"Schtop," Ray mumbled, making no attempt to shove him off, slightly annoyed if anything, "it huwrts."
"Also not what you said last night," he repeated as he let go. "Sendin' me mixed signals here, Ray."
(And water is wet.)
Her hand rose, pointer fingertip held up his lips. For once, she played along. "Sounds like someone's a bit cranky that his little victim deflowered him," Ray said sweetly, to which he let out a humored "tch".
"Issat what happened?" he asked, leaning down to mutter in her ear, his lips gliding along to the hollow of her cheek, and he heard her hum affirmatively, somehow satisfied. Of course she'd see it that way. "Guess I'll hafta get my payback then." Finding the corner of her mouth as she turned her head, Ray took the initiative on the contrary, kissing him first, draping her arms around his neck, and as she could guess, he conveniently had no qualms, reciprocating fully. She broke away for just a moment, whispering mischievously against his lips.
"Now you're the one sounding like a tease—"
Abruptly, a ringing doorbell resounded about the house, breaking them from the moment before it could even begin again.
Parting, they peered to one another, then the direction of the door. Sitting up, a look of apprehension was passed back and forth. "It's probably just that guy," Zack realized as he stood up.
"Mr. Lawrence?" Ray replied, and Zack nodded. "Why would he—?"
"I'll explain in a minute," he said, grabbing her nightgown from the floor, throwing it to hit her in the face with a "fwhack". With an unwaveringly blank expression, she took it in hand, pulling it over her head. "Just answer the door." He'd do it himself, because yeah, he had his jeans on, but the whole "wrapping his top half in bandages" thing was like, a fifteen minute affair.
Shrugging, Ray stood, but as she did, a sharp pain jolted through her lower center, and not just on account of her stab wound.
Something else that'd take some getting used to.
Related, Zack, noticing something, called her attention again as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Uh, wait," he cleared his throat, leaning down, picking up her choker from the ground as well. "Put, uh—put your necklace back on, too," he said reluctantly. Ray tilted her head curiously as he struggled to elaborate, and she peered to her reflection showing in the mirror upon the far wall.
Along the side of her neck were a line of sparse, however clear, purplish bruise marks.
"Ah," she took his meaning, grabbing the choker, clasping it around the back of her neck again, no further curiosity. It didn't cover the evidence completely, but she supposed it was better than nothing.
Ray went to the front room, standing on her tiptoes, peeking through the peephole. Sure enough, the familiar faces of Larry and Eve resided on the other side, hand in hand. In his opposite palm, the man held a large, paper bag. Eagerly, Ray opened the door, greeted with two brightening smiles. "Eve, Mr. Lawrence—"
"Rachel…!"
Immediately, the little girl threw her arms around Ray's midsection, hugging her tight. The older let out a little surprised gasp, a slight jolt of pain twinging in her wounded side again, though she needn't think twice before embracing her in turn. "Oh, careful there, Sweetie," Larry laughed. "Do be gentle with our recovering patient." He knelt, putting his hand atop Eve's head, looking towards Ray at eye-level now. "It's a relief to see you back on your feet so soon, Ms. Rachel. Are you feeling any better?"
"I… I am," Ray replied, however confused, "but, how did you know…?"
"Hm," Larry replied, "I guess Zack hasn't had the chance to explain it to you yet. Is he not around?" he asked, Ray shook her head. "Well, you see, it was Evangeline here who mended you after your injury," the child reached over, pinching Larry's cheek in disapproval, he replied with a laugh, "and I suppose I may have helped a bit too."
Ray felt her heart well distantly.
"You were the ones who saved me?" she asked, as the fact hadn't occurred to her before now. "I… I don't know what to say," because something like this was certainly a situation that normal people weren't often equipped to handle—emotionally, if nothing else.
"Think nothing of it, dear. What are friends for?" he reassured Ray, then reaching into the paper bag at his side. He took in hand two long, flat rectangular boxes—which Ray easily recognized as clothing boxes, being the same type her mother would bring home at Christmas time, inside of which were beautiful, holiday outfits her family wore when they took postcard pictures. "We thought you might also appreciate a change of clothes—Eve helped me pick yours out. While I was only able to guess your size, I imagine it'll still be better than the bloody ones you had on before. If it's too small, let me know, and we'll exchange it, yes?" he said, holding it out to her. "There's a spare set for Zack as well. He seems close to my size, but extend the same sentiment to him as well." Larry offered a kind expression. "There's also a new pair of shoes for the both of you." He held up the bag, and at a loss, Ray reached out, taking the items in hand.
"I… thank you," she replied weakly. Still, she didn't know what she was supposed to say. She looked back and forth between them. "Is there anything we can do to repay you?"
For a moment, Larry hummed. "Well, since you asked," he stood tall again, "if you're feeling up to it, Eve was wondering if you and Zack might want to come with us on a little vacation to the country this afternoon? She's earned as much, surviving her first week of school," he gave a soft laugh, smiling at his daughter with pride, and Ray merely stared back, almost having forgotten what the word "vacation" had meant at this point in life (she doubted Zack had ever been on one.)
"I would like that," she replied with all the enthusiasm of a brick wall. "I'll ask him if we can."
Larry gave an agreeable nod. "If he says you're unable, we completely understand, but should you like to join us, please come to the cafe around noon. You can reassure him, it'll be low-key." Leaning down, he picked up Eve, holding her propped against his chest. "I imagine it could be good for you, after all that's happened." Turning, he walked back down the sidewalk, towards the car parked on the street. From over his shoulder, Eve waved to Rachel, who waved back. "Both of you."
Returning inside, Zack called her attention again. Ray looked up to see him leaning against the doorway. "Wha'd he want?" he asked.
"Just checking in. He and Eve invited us on a daytrip this afternoon," Ray explained. "Do you want to go?"
Zack rolled his eyes. "No," he said predictably, "but I'm guessing you do, so," he gave a shrug, "ain't like I got anything better to do," he relented easily, and Ray was gratified she didn't have to do more "convincing" today (not that she was unwilling.) In her hands, the girl looked back down at the boxes, opening the top one. Taking the garment in hand, Ray pulled out a pure black dress, beautiful, frilly and lacy with bows. It even had a matching headband.
It looked… expensive.
"What's that?" Zack asked.
"Mr. Lawrence gave it to me. There's something for you, too." Ray held the box out to him, and he took it, opening the lid. Like hers, it was pure black—a long coat with a hood. Zack hummed, shrugging, because he didn't know anything about fashion, but at least it didn't smell like a bonfire. He fiddled with it for a moment, finding the tag, studying it. Curiously, Ray peeked over as well, not recognizing the name, assuming it was probably some big designer label. "Can you read it?" she asked. It was pretty simple, three letters, two of the same.
Zack paused, contemplating their meaning. "H… N? Wait, no—M. HMM, right?" he replied, to which the corners of Ray's lips turned upwards slightly as she nodded. After a moment, she reached out, placing her hands atop his, gazing at him, proud and lovingly. Zack rose an eyebrow. "What?"
"You're getting a lot better," Ray said, almost gently. Letting go of his hand, she turned back towards the master bedroom to shower and change. "Before long, you won't need me to read for you anymore."
For some reason, while the claim should've been a relief, Zack was almost taken aback at the notion.
He turned, staring at the back of her head while she walked out of his sight. As she closed the door behind her, he peered down at the garment in his hands once more, to the tag. While the acronym was clear to him, the words beneath, what they stood for, were still a mystery. "Right," Zack muttered to himself.
One day, I won't…
I won't… need you.
Once more, Ray stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom, fully-clothed in the silken dress she'd been gifted.
To her relief, it fit like a glove, but she felt a little out of her element to wear something so pretty. It'd been a long time while she'd adorned anything like this, not since she was a little girl and had some special event her family had to go to: weddings, funerals, church on holidays. She liked wearing nice things, but at the same time, it didn't seem right for someone like her—now more than ever.
"Just when I thought you couldn't look any more like a doll," Zack sighed, appearing over her shoulder in the mirror, fashioning a lop-sided smirk. As she finished tying the headband's ribbons into a bow beneath her chin, she turned to observe his new outfit as well. He'd finally re-bandaged himself, and the dark attire was befitting for him, Ray thought. It looked to be the right size, stealthy.
Most of all, for a long moment, she couldn't help staring at the belts his jeans fashioned at the thighs, her cheeks turning a soft pinkish shade.
Ray gazed away conveniently, turning back to the open clothing box in the bed. She took in hand a little card with jewelry attached to it. She slid the sterling silver ring upon her right pointer finger, then tilting her head as she held a pair of cross earrings in hand. Reaching in her messenger bag, she took out a sharp sewing needle. Zack rose an eyebrow as Ray turned back towards the mirror. "What are you—?" he said, cut short by Ray, who, without the slightest sense of reluctance reflecting upon her features, jabbed the tip through her earlobe.
Zack's eye twitched.
Hearing him groan audibly, with the needle still penetrating through her flesh, she gazed back towards him. "What?" she asked, fully oblivious to what was the matter. Zack knew better than to question her, so he merely sighed and shook his head. "It wasn't just the dress, Mr. Lawrence gave me earrings, too. It'd be rude not to wear them."
"Whatever, Psycho," he muttered, "just don't let it get infected," he waved his hand, and Ray gave a little nod, removing the needle, sliding the dangling earring in, a little drop of blood dripping along the metal. Zack walked out of the room, and just as quickly, Ray did the next before he even came back—fashioning her new jewelry for him to see.
"How does it look?"
"Like you stuck a needle through your ears," he said, shoving a paper towel and bottle of rubbing alcohol into her hands, knowing she wouldn't likely clean it unless he made her. Wordlessly, she took it, seeming almost sullen, but she did as he wanted her to.
"That's not what I meant," Ray pouted, but he ignored her.
(The one time she actually tried to look nice, and he had nothing to say about it…)
Sighing, she turned back to the jewelry card, noticing that there was still a matching cross necklace on multiple chains. It dangled, so she supposed she could wear it with her choker, but as she took it in hand, gazing upon its lovely luster, Ray had a better idea. Turning to Zack, she undid the clasp.
Standing on her tiptoes, Ray reached around the back of his neck, linking the ends of the chains together.
Returning to flat feet, she gazed upon him adoringly, but he only seemed intrigued. "This way, we can match," Ray explained, pressing her fingertips to the cross choker he'd given her, and he merely shrugged, half-wanting to remind her that he was just about as atheistic as they came, but she'd probably just conveniently ignore the fact the same way she always did. "It looks handsome on you," Ray said, flirtation clear but made mild by her monotone voice. With a slightly annoyed look showing on his face in turn, Zack gazed away reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head as if he were almost shy.
Ray resisted the urge to giggle.
"It was really nice of Mr. Lawrence to buy us these." Ray changed the subject, much to his relief. On the nightstand nearby, Ray took in hand the brush she'd used to comb her hair. She put her hand to Zack's chest, wordlessly instructing him to sit back on the bed, and he did as she willed without question, already knowing where this was going. "Make sure you tell him 'thank you' later, okay?" Ray nagged, but Zack merely waved her off with a dismissive "uh-huh", but they both knew he had no such plans. Climbing behind him, she propped herself up on her knees and began running the brush through his hair. "He's really helped us a lot lately, hasn't he?" Ray asked as she groomed him, to which Zack understood her meaning after a moment.
"Yeah," he exhaled. "Him and the kid were the ones who patched you up."
Ray was still near-baffled to realize as much, even after she'd heard it straight from Zack. "I'm surprised you went to them."
"You're tellin' me," Zack huffed a laugh, "but it was either that or take you to the hospital," he stated simply. "So, y'know—lesser of two evils."
Ray wanted to mention the fabled third option, but recalling the moments before she'd passed out, she knew better than to reopen the wound.
As she'd finished tending the back of his hair, Rachel stood in front of him again. Before she began combing his fringe, she stopped to observe the look of reluctance on his face. "That guy," he said slowly as she brushed him again, "turns out, he knows about me, and," with his head still lowered slightly, he peered up to Ray, noticing the look of confusion on her face in turn, "about us," which was probably worse. "But the weirdest thing?" Zack went on. "He didn't care," in fact, "he almost seemed… happy about it," he explained. "Seemed to think he wasn't all that different—'cause his Bible-thumpin' parents used to beat him for suckin' dick," Zack said, and Ray rolled her eyes. There's that crudeness again. She disregarded as much to stay on point.
"Those are judgements for God alone to make," Ray said. A pet peeve of hers had always been the people who used the purity of her religion to excuse their own bigotry. "Besides, the Bible doesn't say anything about that," she stated simply.
"I'd think not," Zack huffed a laugh. "Otherwise church'd be a lot more interesting."
Again, she sighed. Regardless, while Ray knew she should've felt more concerned, for some reason—it was almost a relief. "Well," she replied, putting her hand to her chest as she was satisfied with her doting, "Eve knows, too," Ray said vaguely, leaving out the whole "because I outright told her" part. Zack gave a sigh as he stood too, seeming little more than tense towards the matter's growing urgency.
"Do you think we can trust them?" he asked.
Ray gazed at the floor absently. "I think we have to at this point," she told him, and Zack wanted to mention the bloody alternative to anyone who tried to threaten them—but he, like she, knew better. "I know what my heart wants to believe," Ray said softly, her own conflict clear as day equally, though it only served to make Zack's resolve all the more firm. "I… want to be able to trust them."
After a moment, she felt Zack's palm on her shoulder, his other hand beneath her jaw, cupping her chin.
"Well," uncharacteristically gently, he tilted her head to look up at him, "I don't know about them," Ray felt her cheeks growing warmer as she looked him in the eye, "but I do know that," he brushed her hair behind her ear, showcasing her new earring, "I trust you."
Rachel replied with a weak expression, remembering yesterday as he touched her face, just as intimately—only instead with the blunt force of his palm. "Even though I've given you every reason not to?" she reminded him.
He sighed, offering a lopsided sort of smile. "Mhm. Whether I like it or not," he realized. Resting her hands against his chest, Ray pulled herself closer, nuzzling into her darling killer, hiding her face against him. Despite her apparent apprehension, she may have been secretly satisfied. "So if you still wanna give them a fair shot, I'm behind you."
Because—if Ray's heart was telling her one thing?
His had no choice but to believe it implicitly.
"And, if things don't go how we hope?" she asked, to which he draped his arms around her back, embracing her as he exhaled.
"You've made it pretty clear you're not gonna allow us to be apart," Zack whispered, "and I've told you, I'll fuck-up anyone who tries to come between us," his grip around her grew tighter, and he held her head to his chest, "so I guess I'll just have to take care of it the same way I always do." He ran his hand down the back of her hair, cupping the base of her neck. "Anyone who tries to take you away," he reminded her, and Ray felt her heart flutter, "is dead to me."
She supposed he could be romantic when he wanted.
"Mr. Lawrence," said Ray from the back passenger's seat, "will you teach me how to drive?"
At the wheel, the aforementioned peered to her visage in the rear-view mirror, but before he could reply, he was cut short with an offended "hey!" Zack, too, looked back to her with a narrow gaze. "How come you've never asked me how to drive?" he interjected bitterly.
"Because someone would have to teach you first," Ray said, no hesitation, having ridden with him before, knowing full-well he absolutely would not pass any regulation driving exam. Zack replied with a growl in agitation, slumping against the armrest of the car door, brooding out the window. Were it not for the nine-year-old girl sitting at Ray's side in the back, he'd certainly have a few choice swear words to exchange. Larry, noticing as much, let out a laugh, never removing his eyes on the road.
"Well, it means a lot you'd ask, Ms. Rachel," Larry replied, taking a slow right into an informal parking lot, "but do you have your learners permit?"
Among all else, "I'm not old enough," Ray explained simply as he put the vehicle into park.
"Hate that you said that," Zack muttered beneath his breath, kicking open the door as Larry turned the car off. As the others got out, Lawrence turned, putting a hand to Ray's shoulder.
"I'll tell you what," he said, "ask me again in a few years, then we'll talk."
"If I make it that long," Ray muttered beneath her breath as he walked off, and she felt Zack lightly whack his hand against the back of her head with a "hush". If she kept bein' so sassy, she'd be lucky to make it to the end of the day. As Larry turned towards a nearby trail, Eve took both Zack and Ray's hands in her own, standing between them, like she were leading the way.
Ray thought it was cute.
Zack thought it was annoying.
Stark contrast to Zack and Ray, Eve wore a pure white, frilly dress, matching Larry's daywear in its shade. It was kind of picturesque, not that there was anyone around to appreciate as much, for as promised, the countryside was quiet, not another soul in sight. Ray recognized a sweet scent wafting on the wind, flowers, and before long, sure enough, they found themselves standing at the edge of a seemingly endless sunflower field. "Pretty…" Ray said softly, beneath her breath, the vacant look on her face betraying the sentiment.
"Have you two been to the country before?" Larry asked, noticing her intrigue, and Ray shook her head, no. However, after a moment Zack shrugged, almost uncomfortably.
"Don't know," Zack replied. "Long time ago, maybe," he said vaguely. Ray wanted to ask when, but she doubted he'd give a straight answer if she did.
An excited Eve peered back to her father for approval, oblivious to all else. "Can we play?" she asked.
"To your heart's content, my darling. Just make sure you stay together, yes?" he said, sitting on the nearby bench. Eve let go of Zack's hand, allowing him to take a seat next to Larry as she gazed to Rachel, a little smile on her face, then turning towards the field. She pulled Ray along, running down the center path, through the flowers. Rachel followed contentedly, and the two disappeared from view. As he watched them trot off, Zack let out a heavy sigh of relief.
"You seem tired, my friend," Larry said, and Zack needn't look to know he was digging through his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. (He wasn't kidding, he really was a slave for nicotine.) "Long night?"
Zack cleared his throat. "You could say that," he replied vaguely.
"Ah," Larry nodded. "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised you'd let Ms. Rachel out of your sight, after all that's happened."
"More like I'm lucky she let me outta hers," Zack muttered beneath his breath.
He propped his elbow on the bench's armrest. "I take it there's been a change of plans, then?" he asked knowingly, towards which Zack took a deep breath, holding it for a moment.
"Yeah," he relented, kicking lazily at the dirt path beneath his feet, "she convinced me to stay," and lord, how very convincing she was. He could safely say, thanks to her stubborn influence, his dick had taken him to places he wouldn't even go with his scythe. Well, on the bright side, it was said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and the last thing he needed was to be fonder of this crazy brat.
"I see," Larry replied simply. "Well, I know my opinion has little bearing on the matter, but I'm glad you'll be sticking around as well." He offered a little smile, taking a puff off the cigarette he'd lit. From the corner of his eye, he observed Lawrence's sincerity, that only seemed to be odd yet.
"I've... been thinking about what you said," Zack said slowly. "That you know… what I am—"
"A killer," he stated outwardly, as if it weren't a big deal.
With a groan, Zack gave an annoyed glance towards the other man, his gentle approach to the matter ignored completely. Ray had explained to him one time, how there was an entire subculture of people obsessed with serial killers and true crime stories, viewing those like himself as nothing less than fascinating, but it was weird to think about practically, and even weirder to meet someone who felt that way about him personally. But the weirdest thing of all?
Zack found himself wondering why he hadn't been taken by the urge to slaughter his dearest fanboy yet.
"I know you're like—glad I offed the fuckers who took you in, but aren't you, y'know," he gestured with a wave of his hand, "worried?" Zack asked, sounding almost too reasonable.
Larry didn't seem to notice his contrary humanity, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. "That I might be your next victim?" he smirked slyly.
"That," Zack gave a devious hum in reply, "and maybe the kid, too." Zack taunted him, to which Larry's amusement dissipated as he took a drag, standing, allowing for a long moment of silence as he said nothing. Zack rose an eyebrow curiously, interested in his tonal shift.
"It's you to whom I owe my life at all," he began, "and should you so choose to take it, I wouldn't dare try and stop you. However," the tone of his voice grew darker and deeper than Zack had ever heard or thought him capable of, "I will not allow any harm to come to my daughter." He looked over his shoulder, something foreign and chilling in his gaze. "If you so much as try to lay a finger on Eve," Larry warned lowly, "you'll be sorry, my friend."
While he was surprised at the other man's rare show of anything besides friendliness, Zack gazed back narrowly, groaning. "Geez, don't get all bent outta shape," he muttered. "Your kid's just as boring as Ray, I don't care enough to kill her," Zack grumbled, to which Larry's smile returned and he faced towards him in full once more. Zack threw up his eyes before speaking again, his voice foreboding. "It ain't me ya gotta worry about anyways."
The other man's visage warped with confusion. "What?" Larry laughed in disbelief. "You mean, Ms. Rachel?" Zack let out a "tch", an almost amused smirk showing beneath the shade of his hood as he nodded. "Surely, you can't be serious?" he asked. "But she's such a polite, dear girl…"
Zack huffed. "That's exactly what makes her so dangerous," Zack leaned back, posture relaxed as he slouched slightly. Like everyone else, he'd fallen for her innocent act, just like Ray intended. "You think Ray's just a normal kid, but she's even more psychotic than me."
Incredulity showed clear on Larry's face. "Whatever do you mean?"
He pointed to the side of his temple. So delicately put: "She's fucked in the head, my guy," he gave a dark laugh. "The space between her ears ain't a neighborhood anyone would wanna live in," said the man routinely forced to visit it. "The difference between Ray an' me is that she doesn't understand what she's doing—she kills people because she thinks it's the right thing." Certifiably: "She's insane."
Larry looked at the ground, an odd sort of sympathy showing upon his features now. "Right," he said softly. "I do recall reading something about that in the paper, when talk of you two first surfaced. 'Girl in hospital, diagnosed with mental disorder'." He sat back at Zack's side, gazing upon the other man's profile pensively. "'Delirium'."
Unconsciously, hearing as much, Zack held his breath, brow knitting together as he was forced to acknowledge a genuine diagnosis beyond his mockery. "Yeah, that," he said, almost apprehensive to repeat it. The problem, the illness that made Ray who she was at her core. Her source, her brokenness, her cause. "Delirium."
Larry recognized his shift in attention, so focused that he didn't notice the one-eyed stare set upon him intently. "That's right," he repeated. "A disorder that often affects people dealing with mental or physical trauma—resulting in confusion of circumstances, subsequent hallucinations, and inappropriate emotional reactions. An improper understanding of the world around oneself, to a potentially harmful extent."
"Yep," Zack sighed defeatedly. "Checks out."
Larry crossed his arms, tapping the ash of his cigarette. He hummed. "I know I should be inclined to insist she find professional help, but… I'll be the first to say this country's healthcare system is set up for failure. You see, I can empathize with Ms. Rachel," Larry spoke gently. "I, too, have struggled with my mental health," he said, and Zack recalled him mentioning how he'd once desired to take his own life, something he and Ray clearly had in common, "but unfortunately, all the doctors and prescription medication in the world did little for my recovery."
Clearly, a universal experience. While Zack was sure he meant well, considering the trail of blood that followed in Ray's wake, "I think this might be a little different."
Larry huffed a laugh, taking his final drag. "Well, regardless, I don't find myself fearing for my daughter's safety. In fact, I can't help but feel somehow more comfortable leaving her wellbeing in Ms. Rachel's capable hands." Somewhere off in the distance, they could hear the faint sounds of laughter. "They're such dear friends, after all," he said, and Zack reluctantly decided against telling him of Ray's affinity for trying to kill and sew together the things she liked (example A: him.) "I'm not concerned," he said, and Zack shook his head.
With Ray, no one ever was.
"Can't say I didn't warn ya," he muttered.
Off in the flower field, Ray and Eve played, one hiding in the tall stalks of gold while the other sought to find them. Ray was "it" this time, and given her shorter height, Eve was even better than her at hiding. "Eve," Ray called out almost playfully, not expecting a reply, "where are you?"
To her surprise, Eve did call back. "Over here!" she said excitedly, and Rachel followed the sound of her voice, parting the large leaves to see her friend kneeling on the ground, looking down at something. Ray, peeking over her shoulder, was equally as interested upon seeing a small, calico cat. While it was cute, it was clearly un-wanting to be approached, the hair on its back sticking up as it hunched. Slowly, Eve couldn't resist the temptation to reach out. "It's okay," she told the animal gently, but it only riled the kitty more, and it hissed.
"Wait, Eve, be carefu—"
Before Rachel could conclude her warning, the cat swiped its paw forward, its claws dragging across the back of Eve's hand. The girl let out a little gasp in pain and surprise, falling back, gripping her hand as the scratches began to trickle blood. Tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes.
Rachel found herself reacting instinctually, reaching in her bag, pulling out Zack's knife.
She took a step past Eve, leering down at the growling cat. She held her hand in the air, brandishing her blade like nothing were out of the ordinary. As the creature howled louder, Eve suddenly realized Ray's intentions, but before she could follow through, the little girl scrambled to her feet, gripping Ray by the wrist. "W-Wait—!"
Ray stopped as Eve wanted, but she merely peered over her shoulder, confused. "Why?" she asked. "It hurt you," she reasoned, but vigorously, Eve shook her head as she whimpered.
"It's scared," she said, to which Ray gazed back at the cowering animal as it hunched away still. Oh, Ray thought, the fact having not occurred to her before it was pointed out, the emotion being one of many difficult for her to recognize.
Fear.
"I… didn't realize," Ray explained, clearly sincere. She lowered her hand back to her side. Finally, the cat took a few quick steps backwards before turning and running off into the field. Eve removed her hand from Rachel.
"It's okay," Eve reasoned, taking her hand, turning back the other way, hopeful and quick to move past what had just happened. Rachel, however, was unmoving.
"Eve," Ray said weakly, "why did you save me?" The child looked back to her, almost confused. "You… could have just let me die."
On the contrary, a look of clear disapproval showed on Eve's face. She shook her head. "No!" she shouted, holding her hands over her chest, as if such a thing were ridiculously out of the question.
"But… you know what I am, what I've done," and clearly, she still hadn't changed, "and you know I deserve it." Again, the younger girl shook her head, more vigorously this time. She wrapped her arms around Ray's chest, and despite Larry's earlier caution to handle her delicately, she hugged her tight.
"No one does," Eve told her.
Rachel peered down at the top of her friend's hair, perplexed. "You think that no one… deserves to die?" she asked, genuinely confused at the notion, and Eve shook her head. "Not even someone like me?"
"No one," she reiterated decidedly.
And not just because they were friends.
Ray gave a soft sigh, her corrupted heart feeling weak against Eve's forgiving and innocent soul as they embraced. She hugged her in return, and they stayed that way for a long moment. She supposed she didn't know if she should simply agree to disagree, say nothing at all, or what else. It didn't really matter, she supposed, because her focus was still, more than ever, founded in what came next—after her death.
What came next.
"You know, Eve," Ray said finally, "I believe in God. I… pray to Him every day, and I repent for the horrible things I've done," she explained, "but there've been times where I wonder if He'll actually forgive me, no matter what I try to do to make up for my mistakes."
Pulling away, Rachel reached in her messenger bag, taking out a little character-print bandage, incidentally, with cute cartoon kitty cats on it. She took Eve's hand in hers, kneeling, tending to the scratches on her skin.
"But lately, I've started to wonder… maybe He will," she said, peeling apart the plastic strips, sticking it to her skin, "because a long time ago—the first thing I prayed to God for… was to send me a real friend." As the scratches were covered, Rachel gently held the girl's hands in her own, not yet letting go. "It's taken a long time," because nothing in life worth earning was quick or easy, she was starting to realize, "and I used to think He didn't hear me, but now—I have you."
"Rachel..."
Rachel gazed upon the little girl, her dear friend and savior, with an expression of gratitude and admiration. "Thank you, Eve," she finally said, more genuine than she'd maybe ever been. "You saved me, so now, maybe… maybe God will think I'm worth saving, too."
After all, were there ever an angel on earth, it was the beautiful young girl who stood before her.
Eve saw her soul for what it truly was, and mostly, she accepted it, for better or worse. A moment passed before the child's hands rose from Rachel's hold, her palms placed on either side of the older's face. Despite the darkness in her large, beautiful, reddish gaze, so unlike her senior, Evangeline lent Ray an undeniable, dear, sincere smile. Again, she hugged her, and Rachel felt something strange.
She felt warm.
Without a doubt in her mind, Eve was sure: "You are."
An hour or so later, hand-in-hand, the girls returned to Zack and Lawrence. Spotting her father, Eve trotted up to him with a long sunflower stalk in hand. She held it up to him. "For me?" he asked with a little giggle, Eve nodded. "You shouldn't have," he took it, leaning forward, kissing her forehead. "Shall we head to the cabin, now?" he suggested and she nodded again. Agreeably, Larry picked her up, holding her propped to his chest. Ray turned to Zack.
"Will you carry me like that, too?"
Zack scowled at her indignantly. "Your legs ain't broken."
She held her hands together at chest level. "Pretty please?" she asked, peering up to him with her big, bluish eyes. He sneered in annoyance, only furthered as Lawrence and Eve giggled softly, looking away.
Zack rolled his eyes and groaned. "Fine," he relented, however turning and bending at the knees, "but we're doin' it this way. You're too old to be held like that."
Wow, she was actually too old for once?
"But—"
"Take it or leave it, Princess Pain-in-the-Ass," he said, and with a small pout, Ray supposed she should be satisfied to get him to agree at all. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she jumped slightly, and Zack caught her, sliding his hands under the crook of her knees. With her arms around his neck, she held onto him. "You owe me for this," he told her, and Ray pulled herself closer to whisper in his ear.
"Oh, don't worry," she replied slyly. "I'll make sure to pay you back."
Chills ran down Zack's spine and she felt his grip on her legs grow tighter. He peeked towards Larry and Eve a short distance ahead of them—following the path to the nearby forest. Luckily they were caught up in their own conversation to hear her. "Don't make me drop you," he warned lowly, following behind the other two. Gratified to successfully fluster him, she pressed her lips to his cheek, trying her luck, and he groaned. The walk was short (though she made it insufferable,) before they came to a large clearing in the thick of trees. Sure enough, there stood a cabin, at the side of a small lake, a pond. It looked like the perfect little vacation spot.
Yet as she gazed upon the beautifully clear water as it lay still, Ray couldn't help but feel a sort of uneasiness.
"My parents and I used to stay here in the summer, when I was Eve's age," he explained, setting her down as she ran off to explore, and Zack did the same, assuming Ray would want to join her, "but as time went on, we stopped coming back," he sighed, and Zack had a feeling he needn't ask why to know the reason. "I inherited this place and their house after they died." With Zack at his side, he followed behind his daughter as she ran down the dock extending out upon the pond. She knelt at the end, giggling as she looked into the water, seeing a few koi fish swimming about. After a moment, realizing her absence, Zack looked over his shoulder towards Ray, still standing on dry land.
"Aren't you comin'?" he asked, and if he didn't know any better, he almost thought he detected a hint of hesitation upon her expression.
"I'm fine here," she replied simply.
Zack rose an eyebrow, all the more intrigued by her odd behavior. He turned back to her in full. "Wait a sec," he said, "what's your deal?" he prodded her, and Ray avoided eye contact, fiddling with one of the ribbons of her dress.
"Nothing."
Okay, she was definitely acting strange, color him interested now. "Raaay," he said in a foreboding, taunting tone, strolling towards her almost menacingly, "tell me, why don't you wanna go out on the water?"
Hunching her shoulders, Ray cleared her throat quietly. "It's just," she muttered tepidly, still looking away as he took a step closer, "I don't," she gave a pause, trying to play it off like it wasn't a big deal, failing miserably, and for a moment, he was stunned, surprised, unsure if he'd next heard her right, "I don't… know how to swim."
Like a dull lightbulb blinking on inside his mind, he registered what she'd confessed.
Oh my god, "You can't swim."
Ray grumbled. Affirmatively.
A little devilish smirk spread across his lips, and he let out an impish chuckle, then another, concluding with a hardy laugh. "You can't swim!" he said again, flopping his hand atop his head, ruffling her hair as he cackled obnoxiously. "Ha ha, you fuckin' loser!" Ray puffed out her cheeks, eyes narrowed in embarrassment and annoyance. "You can't swim, you can't swiiim!" he repeated incessantly, in a teasing sort-of sing-song voice.
"Real mature."
"Hey, at least I don't sink!" he mocked her, the mental image of Ray flopping around like a wet cat just about the funniest thing in the world. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed, but thinking back, it checked out. This was the same girl he had to haphazardly resuscitate after she jumped into a ravine and nearly drowned, and it also explained why she was so insistent he be the one to climb in the water on B4.
"Be nice," a little voice called from Zack's side, tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at Eve, still laughing a bit.
"Oh, not a chance, Kid," he said as he pointed at Ray's face, and she was half tempted to bite his finger off. "Hey, next time ya make me pissed, I'll just toss your ass off a bridge!"
"Meanie," Eve stuck her tongue out at him, and following her example, Ray did the same. The girl turned, pulling Ray by the arm. "Let's play," she led her in the opposite direction, away from the water and his teasing. Zack merely smirked and laughed to himself yet, because it felt like he'd spent his entire life trying to figure Ray out these days. He already knew she'd cataloged a list of all his weaknesses (at the top being fire and her,) so like hell was he gonna let this go.
Nah.
He'd never let her live this one down.
A young girl struggled back and forth as the waves lapped at her body relentlessly, her little arms flailing to keep her afloat with little success. She tried to call out, "Daddy, Dadd—!" but her voice faded beneath the sea, her lungs filling with saltwater. She was submerged without a chance of resurfacing, her vision blurring and stinging as she shut her eyes and held her breath. Her thoughts grew fuzzy as her consciousness began to fade deeper into the ocean.
Am I going to die?
With a sharp, silent inhale, Ray's eyelids snapped open. A little droplet of sweat slid down the back of her neck, and her heart raced against her will. Her vision focused into the sight of Eve's sleeping visage, the same thing she'd fallen asleep to.
After Mr. Lawrence made dinner (Eve's favorite soup,) the evening was growing old. Zack took the couch, and Larry was in the master bedroom. Eve and Ray cuddled up in the kid's room—the first time either had an official sleepover. While it was fun, and they stayed up late talking and playing with the old stuffed animals in the toy chest, Ray couldn't help but feel somehow apprehensive with their sleeping arrangements. Especially after last night of all nights, slumbering next to sweet innocent Eve felt morbidly jarring at best. Sure enough, she couldn't help but think of it as no coincidence that nightmares plagued her rest, tonight of all nights.
Even if she was annoyed with him, Rachel had gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed as Zack, it felt strange not to do so now.
Silent as a ghost, Ray rose from the bed as to not wake the other sleeping girl, and sitting at the edge, she gently placed a hand to her friend's soft cheek, stroking her face. She was even cuter when she was asleep, like a baby bunny. Ray stood and walked to the main room, where, sure enough, Zack lay sleeping on the couch, arms propped behind his head, the shade of his hood cloaking his eyes.
Ray was half-tempted to climb atop him, but she knew it'd probably wake him up—he'd always been a light sleeper (unlike her, who when she was out, she was out like a light.) Instead, she merely studied what she could discern of his visible face, remembering the beautiful reality that lay beneath his bandages, and how much she yearned to see it again, though she fully knew she was just being selfish.
Allowing him to rest, she turned towards the front door, quietly exiting the cabin. While it was naturally dark out, Ray noticed she was able to see the stars in the sky much better here than she ever could in town—like she used to be able to at her childhood home, from her bedroom window. There was no light pollution in the country, she supposed. Her gaze befell the lake once more, the same one she reluctantly avoided earlier, upon which those same stars reflected.
Without hesitation now, her light step led her down the creaking dock she didn't take earlier.
She found herself standing at the far end, gazing upon her reflection on the lake's surface, and it almost felt like she really was looking at a ghost. "I thought you said you were afraid of the water?" a voice called out from behind her, a familiar one. Rachel looked over her shoulder, seeing Zack at the far end of the walk, one hand on his hip, a slightly teasing expression on his face. He took a few slow, casual steps towards her as she pondered the fact. Ultimately, Ray just shook her head.
"No," she corrected him, "I just said I can't swim."
She recalled earlier, as she stood in the flower field with Eve, looking down upon the cat as it acted in self-defense, how she was unable to realize that it did what it did out of fear for its life. Such a concept felt so foreign and distant to her now. Even when she remembered Zack's primal fear of fire, it wasn't really something she could understand, much less empathize with.
But, why? It's not like she'd been born this way.
When had she forgotten what it was like to be afraid?
"You know," she went on quietly, "the first time I realized that I was going to die," Rachel recalled, "is when I was a little girl, and I went to the beach with my family. I almost drowned before my dad jumped in and saved me, but it was the first time I really felt scared for my life," and maybe the only.
"But you're not anymore?" he asked, because her pending death was arguably closer and more inevitable than ever. Again, she shook her head.
"No," she looked back down at her reflection, behind which Zack's appeared on the water, too. She wasn't scared, being tired at best. "I can't remember the last time I was afraid," really afraid, at least. She recalled being "scared" of Zack back when they first met, but was that really her, she wondered—or was it what she wanted to feel, what she fooled herself into feeling?
"What do you feel, then?" he asked, out of his own interest, if nothing else. Ray lowered her gaze, pondering the fact. It took her a long moment to realize it, but the answer should've been clear from the start.
"Nothing," Ray replied quietly. "I'm not afraid of anything anymore."
And she wished she could be.
After a moment, while he said little, Rachel felt Zack's hands on her shoulders, though she didn't look back towards him, nor did she move. She half expected him to tease her more, or maybe comfort her in his off-color way, but somehow, he managed to surprise her even yet. Without a hint of hesitation, he shoved her forward.
Ray fell into the lake with a loud "splash".
Quite unlike all those years ago, Ray didn't flail or struggle or try to clamber to the surface. She merely sank deeper into the water, the blurry light of the moon and the stars being the only thing that indicated which way was up and which was down. Through the weight of the water, Ray extended her arm upwards heavily, trying to reach for something, though somehow, she didn't know what.
The answer was made apparent as another splash followed, a larger palm finding itself taking hers, pulling Rachel to safety.
Ray was dragged back to the lake's surface before she so much as ran out of stamina holding her breath. She gasped, coughing slightly, rubbing her sopping hair from her eyes. Next thing she knew, Zack was holding her bridal style in his arms, wading in the water. Almost incredulous from how fast things had happened, she peered to his face as he fashioned a mischievous little smile.
"Scared now?" he asked.
"No," Ray deadpanned, reaching up, the evening air chilly on her wet skin. She pinched the side of his face, and it stung a little, but he only giggled in victory. "Just annoyed you ruined my new dress."
"Y'still look good in it," he said, and that, more than anything, caught Rachel off guard.
"Huh?"
So her asshole boyfriend actually did notice her efforts to look pretty for him. She peered away, seemingly unfazed, but he could tell she was flustered. "But if you want," he said, leaning closer to whisper flirtatiously in her ear, "I could take it off yo—"
He was cut short as Ray swiped a handful of lake water to splash in his face, cooling him off before he could get fired up again. "Down, Boy," Ray muttered, and he coughed between bouts of laughter, feeling as though he'd successfully gotten his payback on the little victim who deflowered him.
"It don't matter if ya ain't scared, 'cause there's no need to be anyway," Zack told her ultimately, a sense of sincerity returning. "Any time you're in danger," be it of drowning, injury, or her own, stupid choices, "I'll be there to save you." As he steadied himself, he lent Ray a gentle sort of smirk, the look of confidence he had anytime he found himself holding her in his arms, "I'm not going anywhere."
Ray brushed his wet fringe from his face. Despite residing in a deep pool of rare weakness, she felt safer than ever as he held her closer in his arms. The girl rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes, knowing she could fall asleep right then and there without so much as the concern of another nightmare.
"I promise."