Chapter 4

I woke up in the middle of that night to someone knocking on mine and Luan's door. My roommate was snoring like a chainsaw, so I scrambled to put my nightshirt back on. I do my best to stay modest around my siblings (especially Lincoln), but I sweat like a pig unless I sleep in my skivvies or less. I opened the door to see Lisa standing in front of me, wearing her lab coat and holding some kind of sciency gizmo.

"Wassup, li'l sis? You have a nightmare or something?" I asked.

"Negatory; I usually go to our parental units for such matters. What I want to do is observe something about our guest that I have a feeling you'd be interested in," she said. She had my attention, so I wordlessly followed her down the stairs to where Sam was sleeping on the couch. I could hear his low moaning from the bottom of the stairs, and when we got to the couch, he was tossing and turning with a distressed look on his face. He was in the throes of a nightmare, and a fierce one at that.

Brushing his hair out of the way, Lisa set her device, which somewhat resembled a portable TV, on the coffee table and stuck a pair of adhesive electrodes to his forehead.

"This device will scan his brain activity, allowing us to view his dreams as if they were a televised program," Lisa said as she began to fiddle with various switches and knobs. The screen lit up and showed black-and-white static for a second. When images formed, it depicted a younger version of Sam lying unconscious on the floor of someone's house, his hands and face stained red. He groaned and sat up, and the "camera" panned around to show the rest of the room.

My breath hitched in horror: scattered around Sam were the corpses of three people, a man, a woman, and a girl, that all bore varying degrees of resemblance to him. That wasn't the worst part; the worst part was that all three corpses appeared to be half-eaten. Sam's eyes widened with the same horror that I felt, only with a vast amount of emotional pain mixed in. The feed cut right as Sam screamed, and back in the real world, the boy on our couch calmed down without waking up.

"Rats. We came right at the end of his REM sleep cycle," Lisa muttered. "Still, I would say that this little snippet was rather revealing, wouldn't you?"

"Uh..."

"I take your hesitation as confusion. Obviously, Sam has killed and eaten his family. Cannibalism technically isn't a crime, but murder is. Thankfully, he appears to have not been consciously aware of his wrongdoings, as evidenced by his initial shock. Once again, it's a shame that we only caught the tail end of the dream sequence. Viewing the whole thing might have answered a few more questions."

I let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought I'd made a huge mistake by bringing a Hannibal Lector wannabe into a house with plenty of fresh meat. Lisa was right: there was much more to the story.

...

The next morning, Mom and Dad made an announcement over breakfast: if Sam would be willing to work part-time at Dad's restaurant, they would pay for him to go to high school with me, Leni, and Luan.

"Have your parents ever given you an education, Sam?" Lisa asked.

"I was homeschooled for most of my life, and so was my sister. My dad had a military background, so he was able to get a discount on learning material for us," Sam replied. That answered my as yet unasked question about the dog tags he wore.

"We should get you some new clothes before you start. Like, no offense, but the teachers would so not approve of you right now," Leni said. It was probably the smartest thing that ever came out of her mouth up to that point.

"I don't know. I've never worn shoes. Ever. I tried once, and they made both of my legs numb. I don't like sleeves, either; they make my arms itch. The cold has never been a problem for me." Leni was eagerly writing this down; she knew a potential fashion trend when she saw one, and she could help you correct almost any wardrobe-related issue.

"Lucky for you, there's nothing in the school's dress code that mentions either sleeves or shoes," Lisa said. "I can certainly think of examples where students have gotten away with worse."

"So, uh, how long have you been in Royal Woods?" I asked.

"I honestly don't know. A month, maybe? I have trouble keeping track of time."

"Perfect! Since today's a Saturday, the band and I can show you the town! If you want to, that is," I suggested.

"Sure, that sounds like fun."

...

I hit up Sully and Mazzy and told them my plan, and they agreed to meet Sam and me in front of my house. We carpooled with our roadie, Chunk (former lead singer of Chunk and the Pieces, a local band that split up after one of their members died of a stroke) and the first place we went to was the Royal Woods Mall. Our first stop was the nearest clothing department, where Leni just so happened to work part-time. She helped us find some new duds for Sam, and paid for them with her employee discount. Next, we hit the mall's arcade, and Sully passed around rolls of quarters. We played the games for a few hours, then stopped at the food court for lunch. Mazzy had the lowest scores, so tradition stated that she be the one to buy lunch.

After leaving the mall, we stopped at a few places for only a few minutes each. LJ's karate dojo, Dad's restaurant, and a several places where me and the band had done gigs were all on the list.

I purposefully saved the best for last: mine and Lucy's favorite place in the whole town, the Burnt Bean Cafe. They served everything from espresso to bubble tea; it was usually a nice, quiet place for studying, dates, or study dates; and Saturday was when they had Karaoke Night, where anyone was free to express themselves any way they wished. Best of all, I was in cahoots with the owner, and Sandra was the nicest person alive. She only closed the joint on days that she volunteered at a non-profit thrift store in Hazeltucky, and she would give you your order on the house if you couldn't pay the bill. Furthermore, she only refused service to people that were exceptionally rude to herself and other customers.

Sam had been on the receiving end of several dirty looks over the course of the day, but Sandra wouldn't even bat an eye. Heck, she would probably beg me to let her take Sam in herself!

After much prompting on our part, the band and I managed to convince Sam to go up on the stage and sing. His legs were visibly shaking as he walked up the short flight of steps, and he began sweating bullets as he picked up the microphone.

"H-h-hello, everyone. M-my name is Sam. I haven't done this for a while, so forgive me if I'm a little rusty," he nervously stammered. He typed the song he wanted to sing into the keyboard of the karaoke machine and took a deep breath as the opening to Skillet's "Monster" began to play. Despite his claim of being rusty, he had a strong singing voice.

The secret side of me
I never let you see
I keep it caged, but I can't control it
So stay away from me
The beast is ugly
I feel the rage, and I just can't hold it

It's scratching on the walls
In the closet, in the halls
It comes awake, and I can't control it
Hiding under the bed
In my body, in my head
Why won't somebody come and
Save me from this? Make it end!

I feel it deep within
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
This nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

This secret side I keep
Hid under lock and key
I keep it caged but I can't control it
Cuz if I let him out
He'll tear me up, break me down
Why won't somebody come and
Save me from this? Make it end!

I feel it deep within
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
This nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

It's hiding in the dark
Its teeth are razor sharp
There's no escape for me
It wants my soul, it wants my heart
No one can hear me scream
Maybe it's just a dream
Maybe it's inside of me
Stop this monster!

I feel it deep within
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I FEEL LIKE A MONSTER
I hate what I've become
This nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I feel it deep within
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I've gotta lose control
It's something radical
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster!

Sam sang the song with much more emotion than I'd ever heard it performed with, and when he came down from the stage amid cheers and applause, I could see unshed tears in his eyes. He genuinely felt like a monster, and I knew the reason why.

While Sully and Mazzy congratulated his singing, Sandra appeared from behind the counter of the small bar in the back (the only alcohol she sold came in the form of Irish coffee). She was an hourglass-shaped woman with blond hair that had baby-blue highlights, a white T-shirt, a denim vest, and denim Capree pants. She stared at Sam with a strange look on her face, almost like she...recognized him...

"Sam? Is that really you?" she asked. Sam just looked at her in confusion. "It's me, your aunt Sandra. Don't you remember me?"

Mazzy did a spit take all over Sully with her bubble tea. "AUNT SANDRA?!" she yelled. I mentally facepalmed for not seeing sooner. Sam's last name was Sharp. The woman standing in front of us was Sandra Sharp.

"Y-y-you live here? In Royal Woods?" Sam stammered, to which Sandra nodded.

"The question is, why are you in Royal Woods? And dressed like you're..." She then gasped and covered her mouth. "It happened, didn't it?" Sam lowered his gaze and nodded as a tear ran down his face. "How long ago?"

"About two years," Sam answered before his aunt wrapped her arms around him. They held their embrace for a moment before parting, and Sandra cupped Sam's face in her hand.

"Lucky for you, my brother had the foresight to send me a copy of his will in the mail. He made it pretty clear that should anything happen to him and your mother, I should be the one to take you in. I assume Simone met the same fate?" she asked, and Sam nodded again.

We discussed as a group what would become of Sam's living conditions. I felt bad for Leni because her plan to make Sam feel better would never happen, but maybe Sam living with a relative was better than him living with us.


Happy New Year, everyone!