When Ethan headed inside, he found Mia in the kitchen, packing leftovers in plastic bags and tying the handles into knots. He walked over to her and passed a hand over her waist, listening to her softly hum at his touch. So far, things were going well; weird encounters with family members notwithstanding. A sense of hope filled Ethan as he stood here with his wife, giving him some ounce of confidence to pick one of the many questions plaguing him.
"Say, Mia. Eveline doesn't like me a lot," that wasn't much of a question as it was a statement, but the implications must have been clear for Mia as she sighed through her nose.
"Yeah, she tends to be like that with anyone I've brought home. Don't worry about it."
Ethan didn't but he wasn't liking the animosity between him and Eveline either. "Does she tell them to kill themselves?"
"…Yeah," Mia nodded and left it at that. So it was just standard behavior then. Ethan had more questions regarding what to do with her but before he could think to ask them, Jack came from the barn, reeking of livestoc. There was hay stuck to his pants and a little bit in what remained of his hair.
"Ethan, son. Why don't you join me for a ride? Marguerite asked me to take the leftovers from breakfast down the river," he gestured to the backyard.
"Okay," Ethan nodded, taking the bags of food that Mia handed to him.
In actuality, he wasn't keen on going but he figured it would be rude to say no. So he followed Jack back outside and through the garden and the bridges until they reached a nearby boathouse. Jack headed inside, then exited from another opening in a modest boat with two sets of oars as he reached a nearby pier. He widened his arms and Ethan passed over the leftovers before he hopped into the boat himself, tension rushing over him for a split second as it wobbled.
It had been many a year since he had been out sailing in a little dinky boat like this, yet he still remembered how to row the oars – not that it was hard to figure out. It reminded him of the times he'd go fishing with his father as a boy. It reminded him of his wish to invest in a boat or yacht or something and take Mia out for a ride, then catch them dinner from the ocean. She had refused however, citing almost drowning as a child. The details of which remained unspecified.
Now, Ethan almost considered asking about it since it was no doubt connected to the bayou until it occurred to him that Mia hadn't spoken much of her childhood and his curious mind pivoted to that instead. "What was Mia like as a child?"
"A sweet but assertive girl. Got bit of a temper and wasn't scared of saying what she thought," Jack answered, and Ethan couldn't help but laugh upon hearing that.
"Sounds very much like her."
"Some people never change," Jack's beard moved into a smile. "Think she'd pass it on to your kids? You want kids?"
It was such an innocent question and one that Ethan had been asked numerous times by several different people. Truthfully the thought had crossed his mind numerous times, and the answer was always the same. He answered with such ease back then. He felt a blush crawl over his face now.
"W-well, we've broached the subject."
Which they had but Ethan wasn't sure he liked the mild disappointment in Jack's eyes. The older man mulled on the implications if there were any. Moments of silence passed as the boat sailed through the murky water before he finally responded with; "If it becomes a yes, don't forget to come over and say hi."
Soon after, the boat came to a stop further down the river right outside an old shack. It wasn't entirely dilapidated, just sort of sad. It was a far cry from the Baker house. Jack steered the boat closer to the riverbanks until it was hallway aground. Only then did Ethan hop out with the bags, grimacing a bit at how his shoes sank into the soft ground and soiled his soles with murky water. He tried his best to ignore the wet feeling as he followed Jack to the entrance of the shack.
"Wake up, Joe," the older man knocked on the door, his usual soft-spoken demeanor changing completely. "I got food for yah."
"I'm awake, you old bastard," a voice called from behind the door before it was flung open. A man stepped out, looking remarkably a lot like Jack but with more hair and a whiter beard. Immediately, his eyes fell to the food and then snapped to Ethan, looking him up and down as if to discern if he was even human or not. "Who's this city boy?"
"Ethan. Your nephew-in-law," Jack answered pointedly and handed over the food.
"Uh-huh," Joe looked at Ethan yet again. "You look out of place here so you must be Mia's."
"Yeah, we've been married for three years."
"Good grief. She finally found one boy to settle down with," Joe sighed. Not even a 'congratulations', a 'thank you for the food' or a 'nice to meet you'.
He simply stored the food in a cooling box and looked at Ethan like he wanted him to leave now. And Ethan stood with an awkward feeling settling over him. For different reasons, he and Mia were cautious when it came to talking about previous relationships. If anything, it gave him some level of understanding as to why it took such a struggle to get out here in the first place. And now, he felt so silly for being disappointed in Mia.
"Chin up, kid," Joe popped open a beer and tossed another one to Ethan. "She must've seen something special in you if she tied the knot."
The man wasn't smiling; he seemed like bit of a humorless hard-ass who'd rather fight alligators than go fishing although the way he looked at Ethan was somewhat relieving. Understanding and accepting even if they had just met. From a room nearby, Jack came walking, now back to his more soft-spoken self.
"If you're not busy, you should come over for dinner. There'll be more leftovers but don't tell Marguerite you use some of it to lure out alligators. Lucas is gonna invite a friend over too so it's gonna be a lively party."
Joe actively scoffed at this, "Him?" A friend? He can have friends?"
"Speak for yourself, brother. You're still unmarried," Jack frowned.
While the two old men bickered like old men did, Ethan stood and silently watched, sipping on his cool beer. The idea of Lucas having friends was simultaneously fascinating as it was terrifying. He made a silent vow to keep a low profile for tonight's dinner.
The early evening air was cool and refreshing, free of the choking summer heat. It was possibly due to the on-and-off rain throughout the day. Just to be safe, Ethan borrowed an umbrella when he went for a walk. Lunch had been pleasant today, mostly for the lack of intense glares and kicks from Eveline and no Lucas.
This afternoon would have been even greater if Ethan could get Mia on a walk with him but Marguerite had asked for her help preparing for dinner as there would be nine mouths to feed tonight since Joe was coming over.
And then there was Lucas' friend who would arrive later.
Anticipation aside, things were good. Things were gonna be okay. Ethan spent the time, mapping the route to the old guest house. It wasn't connected to the several bridges in the bayou; rather it lay separated by a layer of forestry from the main house. Apparently, it had fallen into disrepair and instead of Jack renovating it, Lucas had taken it over.
Gingerly, Ethan followed the downtrodden path, avoiding puddles before he saw the building between several trees. Before he could continue to explore, he heard footsteps crush against grass and leaves behind him, expecting it to be Eveline. But as he turned around, he was surprised to stare into the eyes of a total stranger. He was around five or so years older than Ethan with light facial hair and curly, dark hair under a backward cap. His lips curled into a handsome smile that suggested hints of relief, belying the intensity of his stare.
"Didn't know the Bakers had such good-looking family members," his smile widened as his shoulders slumped and Ethan stood stunned for a moment. "I guess you're an outsider too, huh? Makes me feel less alone. Glad that it's a dapper guy."
His flirting and charisma were relentless but eased and relaxed. Practiced even. It shouldn't be effective but Ethan could feel his cheeks flush hotly against his will. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with him so aggressively, let alone a man. But Ethan was married, bound to the love of his life. He wasn't in a position to even consider being flattered so he wouldn't let himself get reduced to a puddle over nice words. He was no longer a single man, hopping around bars after work for a sudden flame or a hookup.
"Yeah. I'm just visiting," he murmured, looking down at the wet ground. He fiddled with his hands, trying to think more logically. Trying to think of anything but the blush creeping down his neck. He fiddled with the handle of the umbrella and was reminded of the fact that it had been a good while since someone had showered him with such unfiltered flattery. Even Mia never used words and intense looks to butter him. At least not anymore.
"Special like a unicorn then," the stranger added, wriggling his brow.
Ethan raised his hand to reveal the wedding ring on his hand, trying not to grin like an evil little imp. He wasn't sure he liked the snippets of disappointment in the stranger's eyes. Perhaps the openness of his sexuality had blindsided Ethan.
"Sorry," the stranger raised his hands, flashing a smile that lit up his face. "Got a little starved for human interaction out here."
"It's fine. Name's Ethan."
"Clancy." The stranger took the hand offered to him and shook it. He had a firm, solid grip and that same, intense gleam in his eyes. "Headed for the playroom?"
"The what?" Ethan raised a brow but couldn't help the gentle smile that threatened to cross his lips. This Clancy was certainly a man of charm who believed in flattery and giving compliments to butter up people who caught his eye.
He moved closer to Ethan until they stood side by side under the umbrella and pointed towards the old house. "Lucas calls it the playroom."
Oh, so this was Lucas' friend. Ethan found that very hard to believe, given how normal Clancy was. He wasn't sure if the implausibility of that friendship spoke of Lucas' deeper emotional cadence or something inherently sinister about Clancy. He shouldn't ask but he did. "So you and him are buddies?"
"Yeah – sort of," Clancy soured a bit with a shrug. That could suggest a whole host of things, all of which faded into nothing when he continued. "We met when we were kids in school. He got bullied badly so I just hung out with him out of pity. That habit still continues. He's…clingy."
"Take him to meet other people?" Ethan suggested softly as they walked past some trees.
"Not that simple. Being friends with Lucas is an…acquired taste. It takes a special person to put up with the shit he does. Hell, I don't tolerate it half the time. But on the other hand, knowing him gives access to the ranch which is a perfect spot to do film," Clancy explained.
Ethan's eyes lit up. "You're a…?"
"Cameraman. Got some buddies of mine running this show called Sewer Gators. Heard of it?"
No. Ethan could not say that he comfortably had. But a slither of embarrassment made him hesitate a bit with an answer before he spoke up like a mouse. "N-no, I don't watch ghost shows…"
"Don't worry, it's fake anyway," Clancy smiled warmly. They made it to the porch of the old house which was made of wood. It was in a rough shape with metal sheets making up for holes and ruined walls. The windows had been boarded up, giving Ethan the impression of a drug den.
Someone decided to do crude graffiti all over the house, in harsh, neon colors and low-droning music played from the inside. The front door opened, and Eveline stepped into the open doorway, still wearing a black dress and black boots. She had her head titled down, giving her an unintentionally creepy look – or maybe she liked it that way.
Ethan for one didn't like the sinister smile that spread over her face. He hadn't seen her make a genuinely happy and innocent expression befitting of her age once. She was sneaky however, feigning a smile whenever she was the object of attention from Jack or Marguerite. Ethan should feel ashamed for being so paranoid around a little girl.
He didn't even hate children. He'd like one of his own.
He shook the paranoia off, watching as she vanished inside the house and Clancy sighing deeply, following after her. The inside of the building mirrored its exterior; covered in neon graffiti that glowed in a sickly green under blacklight. It was far from high art; rather crude drawings of childishly violent acts.
"Where's Lucas?" Clancy asked with a frown and Eveline hesitated with an answer, hopping around and playing with the creaking of the old floorboards before she looked at him. "In the game room."
Ethan went to follow him but Eveline moved in front of him, fast like a viper while Clancy vanished into another room. A weird smile crept through her face. Her voice was quivering and meek as she put her hands behind her back. "You're gonna stay here with me. Or are you gonna leave me? Are you not my friend?"
"I am if you want me to," Ethan answered with a practiced smile, already beginning to miss the presence of Clancy.
Eveline's smile widened at this, and she laughed like children her age did. "Good! I wanna play a game. Hide and seek! Close your eyes and count to twenty."
"Okay," Ethan shrugged and covered his eyes, listening to Eveline run off with a giggle while he counted out loud. Under the weight of his own voice and the droning music, the house fell to an eerie quiet. It was like being at an operating nightclub after The Rapture. It felt wrong and incomplete. Ethan cut off a second of his count to twenty before he uncovered his eyes and looked around.
The old guest house hadn't been cleared of furniture, so Ethan took the time to inspect the spaces behind couches, chairs, under tables, and the smaller cupboards. Everywhere where a child could feasibly hide. He scoured most of the first floor before he stopped outside a living room with a chair, a table, and a fireplace. There was a single piano and a bookcase as well.
On the wall was "Come find me, Ethan," crudely written in garish neon pink as if done by a child. A faint scent of paint lingered in the air so it must have been added recently.
It still unnerved Ethan.
Swallowing, he headed directly for the fireplace as it hadn't been painted and therefore provided more darkness. He stopped in front of the opening and peered into the burnt shadows. Just to be sure, he used the flashlight of his phone to get a good look. The space of the fireplace was cramped and probably wouldn't fit a child much bigger than Eveline.
What it did fit however was a lever right under the brick rim. Curiosity got a hold of Ethan and without thinking, he pulled it, expecting to get a face full of sod. Instead, a section of the wall next to the bookcase opened, right underneath the writing on the wall as if to taunt him. It was a square-shaped hole, one would have to crawl through. It led to another part of the house apparently.
Ethan got on all fours and crawled further inside, standing up on the creaking floorboards. Further down the narrow hallway, there was a hole in the floor with a ladder attached. If Eveline had been hiding here, it sure was the ultimate hiding spot. He descended the ladder until he stepped into puddles of water. Here was dark; so dark that Ethan had to use the flashlight of his phone to navigate. A musky smell permeated the air, and the music was almost distant to the point of being muted.
There was no graffiti, just wet brick walls, slippery from leaking water. He breathed through his mouth and entered the open doorway but as he did, the sound of a gun being fired caused him to jump in place and drop his phone. It took but a moment before sharp pain emerged from his arm and as he looked down, his eyes widened in horror when he saw a dart embedded in his flesh. Panic shot through Ethan like a strike of lightning, and he looked around to see the source, pulling the dart out of his arm.
Judging from the position, it must have come from the floor somewhere. Instead of looking at that, Ethan found himself staring at a warm trail of blood that trickled down his skin. Without hesitation, he tried to scurry his way out of the tunnel and back to the ladder but each step made his body slower and slower as spots of darkness crept over his vision until he dropped to the ground, not feeling the impact of the rock that cut a gash over his brow.
Upon waking up, the first thing Ethan noticed was the strong scent of motor oil, then spray paint. There was a table in front of him with slits on its surface. Most curious of all, he found himself sitting upright, slumped, and strapped into a chair. His left hand was tied to the armrest of the chair. It took a while for his mind to clear up in tandem with the ache from the wound in his arm.
Past events flooded his mind and panic set in again like a spontaneous fire. He looked around frantically and tried to gather his bearings while he figured out a way to escape. Fuck answers, he needed to get out of here!
Then he noticed the chair on the other side of the table in which the silhouette of another person sat. Suddenly bright light flashed from an overhead lamp, almost blinding him. When his vision adjusted to the glare, he saw Clancy in the other chair, stirring awake.
"What…?" he groaned, squinting his eyes against the light. He looked around before snapping his gaze to Ethan, a moment's panic filling him before it dissipated. He became calmer as if this was a minor inconvenience for him.
"Uh, what's going on?" Ethan asked, not sure what to make of Clancy's frustrated sigh.
"One of Lucas' games. I guess you got wrapped up in it. Me as well."
Before Ethan could even begin to make sense of that answer or comprehend this was a game of sorts, loud static played at the end of the table from a tower of televisions. An image then appeared on their screens; fragmented yet composing the image of a little girl, smiling like a menacing murderer, Eveline.
"I forgot to mention that there's a second half to our game, Ethan. Sorry," she spoke so innocently, smiling with pure glee. Ethan on the other hand was not in the mood for games and jests. He couldn't decide if he was furious or terrified. He could only sit in silence, staring blankly at the screens as they shifted again, this time showing Lucas' ugly face grinning like a madman.
"Oh, you're finally awake, huh? Now shit's about to get fun! Sorry about the drugged beer, Clancy," he sat uncomfortably close to the feed. If it wasn't for the poor quality of the video, Ethan was certain he could count the hairs in Lucas' nose.
"…Whatever you say, Luke," Clancy groaned like a parent, sick and tired of their child. Getting drugged and tied to a chair should not warrant such a reaction and it disturbed Ethan how mellowed he was at the situation. Had this happened before? Were they both insane? Extreme thrill seekers?
"Wanna play some trivia game?" Lucas asked, not waiting for an answer before the table contracted and folded in on itself, revealing a buzzsaw in the middle of what once was. It was perfectly aligned between Ethan and Clancy.
"Okay, here's how it works. Evie will ask you both a question and the one who is furthest from the answer gets the buzzsaw a little closer. The loser will get his guts ripped out so you better not answer like dumb sons of bitches!"
Absolute terror paralyzed Ethan as he stared at the metal that began to spin at human-shredding speeds. It was shrill and ear-piecing, but he couldn't hear much over the sound of blood pumping in his ears. He looked upwards, seeing Clancy quietly slump in his chair like the situation didn't bother him. As handsome and charismatic as he had been upon their first meeting, his calmness sparked fury within Ethan and he leaned forward as much as he could.
"Why are you so fucking chill about this?!" he hissed as loud as his lungs would allow.
"Relax. Trust me," Clancy had to raise his voice over the buzzsaw. He nodded in its direction and mouthed two words that managed to ease Ethan's terror in a matter of seconds. "It's fake."
As he had said that, the buzzsaw was shut off and booming silence filled the dungeon – or wherever they were. The screens switched yet again before words appeared, forming one of the most mind-numbing questions Ethan had ever experienced. If he was in a better mood, he'd laugh.
Eveline's voice began reading the words out loud. "How many pleats does a chef's hat have?"
"I don't know, fourteen?" Clancy shrugged.
Calmer now, Ethan tried to concentrate on a suitable answer. Problem was that he had no idea of what to answer. The folds of a chef's hat weren't a topic that he had ever given any amount of thought to at any point in his life. And so he could only make an estimated guess, imagining those fucking things like a clock.
"Twelve?"
The screens flashed black for a moment until the static returned and Eveline began giggling excessively. "You're wrong. Both of you suck. It's actually a hundred. But Clancy you were closer, so you win!"
Before Ethan could wrap his head around how a chef's hat would have to be folded a total of a hundred times, the buzzsaw moved closer to him. Or rather, the mechanical contraption to which it was attached. Even if the blade was fake, it looked uncomfortably real, and Ethan wasn't interested in testing its sharpness. The screens flashed again, showing another question which was read out loud by Eveline.
"What is the human's largest organ?"
Ethan had heard this before. He remembered biology classes from his formative years. He remembered getting mind-blown by the fact because it sounded too out there. The memory popped up in his mind, just as his teacher had said it, flying out of his mouth with quiet confidence. "The skin."
"Uh…the appendix?" Clancy answered, his confidence wavering.
"Congrats, Ethan," Eveline said after a long pause, less enthused than before. "You're right."
The saw moved closer to the middle of the room, back to its original position just as Lucas decided to chime in, sounding bored all of a sudden. "I guess Mia stopped liking men who are rock-bottom stupid."
Ethan wanted to spit in his face for his sick demented game.
"Last question. What's the real name for the hashtag?" Eveline asked. To this, a loud snort came from Clancy.
"I don't know, a hashtag. Sounds clear-cut to me."
Ethan knew what it was. He knew his boss hated it when they were called "hashtags". She insisted she called them by their proper name as she deemed it. At least at the office. The lesson had been pounded so deeply into his mind that he couldn't call the symbol anything else but; "An…octothorpe."
"Correct, Ethan," Eveline giggled.
The televisions flashed images of creepy clowns of balloons and cakes with words of congratulations written above them. Then the saw began to spin again but instead of moving towards Clancy, it instead inched closer to Ethan like an approaching shark. He pressed himself against the back of the chair as the very convincing saw approached, now moving out of its designated hole by a mechanical arm that aimed directly at Ethan's chest.
Fear forced his heart to work overtime, and it began beating like a war drum, pumping adrenaline through his veins. It was fake, he reminded himself. It wouldn't hurt, he tried to soothe his rising panic. Just inches away from tearing his shirt into ribbons, the saw stopped and then pulled back.
It took an unnaturally long time for the terror to pass through Ethan, its residue still settling tightly in his body. Its effect caused him to snap his gaze upwards at a guilt-ridden Clancy, then at the door that opened from behind the televisions. He couldn't see it but he heard footsteps walk closer to him until Lucas stood within view of the overhead lamps with a wide smile on his stupid face. He cast one glance at Clancy, then let his eyes linger at Ethan as he laughed.
"Heheh, you should have seen your face! You fucking pussy-ass bitch!"
"Right, Lucas. You've played with him enough. Let him go and we can get some clean beers and forget this fucking shit," Clancy interjected, trying to wriggle his way out of the restraints as if he hadn't been drugged and tied into a chair by a supposed friend. There was absolutely no way this was all just for the sake of messing around on some ranch.
"Why do you put up with it?" Ethan asked in utter disbelief of this man and his inhumanly unnatural reactions to what was occurring.
"You get used to it," Clancy shrugged. "And I've known Lucas for so long that I recognize his bullshit. It's petty and eccentric but it's all in good fun."
"Well, I'm not fucking laughing. I was shot in my arm by a dart by the way. And Eveline is just a kid. Why do you involve her in this?" Ethan couldn't help but let bitterness seep in, spitting out his words with more bite than he would have liked under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances. No wonder Eveline was such an odd kid.
Despite the continual laughing from Lucas, tensions in the room became palpable, shifting once more when Eveline's face appeared on the screens yet again. She wasn't smiling this time and judging from Lucas' delayed response, he didn't mind this stupid prank taking a weird turn. Or maybe he was anticipating it.
"I have one last question," she said, frowning as she proceeded. "Ethan, do you love Mia?"
"Wh-what question is that? I'm married to her for fuck's sake. Of course, I love her," Ethan answered, noting the slight tremble in his voice. There was something in the way that Eveline had asked her question which caused shivers to shoot up his spine. It was almost pathetic that a child could elicit such a response out of a grown man. Ethan didn't know what that said about him or the child herself.
But she was still just a kid, subject to childish emotions and the temper tantrum she threw at his answer, shaking her head and screaming out her words. "No, no, no! That's not fair! It's not fair! You take her away from me like you own her always! She was here first! She was mine first, not yours!"
"Wha-" Ethan hardly got any time to take in what was happened before the sound of metal grinding against metal could be heard close to his wrists and in a split second, an oddly shaped cleaver sprang from the armrest and dug deep into the flash of his hand, taking his little finger in the process.
Pain rippled through his entire arm, forcing an inhuman scream of anguish out of his lungs and he began thrashing in the chair. The restraints began cutting into his skin and the teeth sank deeper into his flesh, the more he tried to escape but all it did was make the agony worse. Tears began to gather in his eyes and roll down his cheeks as sharp yelps of pain flew out of him in succession with every curse word he knew of.
In his desperate struggle, he felt something slice across his wrists, deep enough to draw blood but his mind couldn't focus on anything other than the overwhelmingly, burning desire to escape this torture. The metal pressed down further into his flesh, cutting through bone and tendons until his hand was freed. When he looked down, his vision blurred from shock and tears.
The trap had ripped off a sizable chunk of his hand, leaving him with three and a half fingers. Blood sprayed out of the pulsating flesh, pooling on the floor and coating the chair. Eveline laughed like this was all just a big jest to her. Her voice became distorted and distant as Ethan couldn't hear her over his racing pulse or his pleas for help that were left unanswered. He tried to think of anything else but this hell he was stuck in, closing his eyes against the gore, closing his ears for Lucas' gasp that erupted into gleeful laughter.
"Oh my. I forgot that I modified the chair to give you a little surprise. Whoops, my bad!" he exclaimed. "Consider it a gift from the family."
"Lucas, what the fuck?!" Clancy shouted, snapping from the demented games that he had been used to for so long. "Oh my god, what have you done?!"
Everything began to fade for Ethan, in tandem with the blood that continues to pour out of him. For the first time in a long time, he wished his parents were alive. He felt like a child, curling up next to his mother while she would read to him. He'd sit on his father's lap while they went fishing or looked at old photos from the military. It was stupid and childish, but it was about the only thing that brought any Ethan a modicum of joy as his consciousness slipped.
Lucidity came like a rude awakening, causing Ethan to sit up, panting with cold sweat dripping down his neck and chest. His movements were sluggish, and it took a few moments to make the world stop spinning as he lifted his head again. His entire body was throbbing. And then he noticed that he was back in the Bakers' house, lying on a couch in the living room.
On a nearby chair, Mia sat curled up with her head between her knees. Seeing her again filled Ethan with an acute sense of longing that he almost considered jumping up and hugging her as tightly as he humanly could. And simply cry. Then the memories came, flooding him with panic like a tidal wave.
Was it a dream? Probably. Hopefully. It was all-
It wasn't. The ensuing ache in Ethan's left hand made it clear that it wasn't. He swallowed, then lifted his arm to inspect the wound. His hand and wrist had been wrapped up in bandages. There was a plaster on the wound where the dart had been embedded. Quietly, Marguerite moved into the room with a resigned, weary look on her face. She looked as tired as Ethan felt and he didn't know how to feel about seeing her head directly for him.
A tense silence filled the room as the winds whipped rain across the window, howling with the promise of an incoming summer storm. Marguerite put a tray on the coffee table; leftovers of southern cooking with some water. The scent was heavenly but all it did was trigger Ethan's nausea.
"Have a meal, son. I'm sorry," she said softly, remaining at the coffee table. A tired smile rested on her face. "Lucas said you got in trouble so he brought you back."
"What…?" her words shocked Ethan and he clenched his fists to prevent them from shaking. His dazed mind worked furiously to try and piece together whatever Marguerite had said to him and how it correlated to his memories. His head and wounds began to pound, and he covered his face to quell the headache, noticing a bandage right over his eyebrow that wasn't there before. It must have come after he passed out.
He looked over at the food, his stomach churning at the sight. But he reached out to take the tray, nibbling on some shrimp and grits. He could only eat around one-third of it before he put the tray away. The food settled in his stomach, heavy like slime. A foreign agent that shouldn't be inside his body. Gingerly, he tried to stand, his balance precarious at best.
"I'm going to bed. Thank you for the food," he said, dragging himself towards the staircase and up its steps until he reached the bedroom and sat on the bed. He didn't wait for a response, laying down for a moment while he inspected his hand. The cleaver probably had a ragged blade, hence why the cut wasn't clean. Just looking at it hurt; it looked so wrong with the natural shape of a human hand distorted. Why? Why did it end like this? Why him?
Something began burning Ethan's eyes and he realized that he'd begun crying, resigning to his fate and the reality of his injuries. Moments later, Mia stood in the doorway, closing the door after herself. She tugged some hair behind her ears, avoiding eye contact as she walked closer to the bed.
"Ethan," she called softly and he looked at her. Guilt was written all over her expression and she kept her distance as if she could hurt him. Her expression soured at the sight of his red eyes as she gathered the will to come to the bed and sit down.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," she said gently, putting her hand over his – the healthy hand. "What happened?"
Through a shaky voice, Ethan explained what had occurred; going to the old guest house, playing hide and seek with Eveline, going down the hole, and getting drugged. And the fucked-up game. His breath began to hitch behind his chest and he curled into himself, terror coursing through his body at the memories as they continued to force pathetic sobs out of him. He felt like a beaten animal, caged in with the entire ranch taking the shape of a prison. Even the mundane surroundings of the bedroom did little to ease the terror.
"…Where is Clancy by the way?" he asked when it occurred to him that the man wasn't in the house. But neither was Lucas from the looks of things. Something in Mia's shifted, and the worry was put behind a veil of vagueness that he didn't like.
"Ethan, did you two…?" she trailed off, moving her hand from his.
"What? Did we what? What are you saying?" Ethan asked, confused for a moment until a thought passed through his mind. Clancy was a lover of men and so was Ethan but there would be no way Mia would imply that they had….would she?
"Maybe all of this happened because you two…" she began, daring not to finish that thought as she saw the active hurt in her husband's eyes.
"What the fuck, Mia? What does that have to do with anything?" Ethan hissed, his tears burning hot and searing in his eyes, coursing down his cheeks. Before he even thought about it, he clasped his hand around her arm, his fingers denting her skin. Even when they argued before, things had never been physical. The only time they'd touch each other was when one came to apologize.
"You can't deny the possibility, Ethan. I'm just saying!" Mia yanked her arm back and stood up. Her voice grew hard and cold as she turned around and headed for the window, looking into the stormy darkness. "Daddy doesn't like Clancy being around because he's a f-well he's weird. And I didn't tell Daddy about how weird you are with men too. It goes against tradition, that's what Daddy says. What are we gonna say to him about this?"
"…Are you for fucking real, Mia? Nothing of what you said has anything to do with your piece of shit brother and your bratty kid sister being psychopaths!" Ethan let her go but gestured harshly with his wounded hand, hardly noticing that the bandages had been bled through. He jumped from the bed, ignoring how his footing needed time to stabilize.
"What the fuck were you doing with another man, Ethan?! How am I gonna explain this to Daddy? Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you didn't sneak out with him. I thought you stopped queering! But Evie saw you two. And how dare you talk that way about my family! Family is important. Family is everything to me!" Mia shrieked, her eyes turning almost black with rage. "I wish I never took you here. Your parents are dead so you would never understand!"
All of a sudden, it was as if the earth stood still. As Ethan stared at his wife, he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. His mind urged him to say something but his body stood frozen to the rug-covered floorboards. All while a deafening silence filled the bedroom. It was the realization in Mia's eyes that broke his ability to react.
The words that he wanted to say failed to take form and whatever they were, they became lodged in his throat. His eyes began to burn with tears, searing like he hadn't done for ages. Years. Not since the funeral of his mother. It was too late to stop it. Weak and pathetic that he was, he could only stand there and cry.
"You should relax, Ethan. You're losing your mind," Mia said, lodged somewhere between cold and gentle.
"I lost my fingers," he sobbed with no power left to argue anymore. He dropped to his knees like a bag of rice, his entire body trembled with the hiccups that caused his chest to heave. And he didn't know why he was crying. Something had been broken and he didn't know what it was. Even as Mia came to hug him tightly, he still felt very cold.
"I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have said that," she spoke with a shudder, oozing guilt and regret. Her body began to shake and it occurred to Ethan that she had begun crying too.
There came a knock on the door and she got up, wiping her face dry as she went to answer. In the doorway stood Jack with a dark expression on his face. His clothes were soaked so he must have been outside. He stared at Ethan with a knowing look and something horribly yet familiarly hostile rested in his gaze.
"Daddy…?" Mia said with a sniff.
"Mia-darlin', let's have a talk. You and I," Jack said gently yet his stare remained apoplectic as Mia left the room with him.
And Ethan remained as a heap of himself on the floor, terrified of Jack Baker for the first time since coming to the ranch.