Page 82 of Miserable Marionette

Through it all, I’d only asked one thing.

Where is Jessica?

I know she’s dead. I don’t know why it’s so… vital for me to check, to—

I cut off my own thoughts, swallowing back a distressed sob, my dad’s gruff voice ringing in my ears. “If you’re crying all the time, how will I know when you’re actually hurt?”

The past few hours, Gideon grew… despondent. Apathetic. I can’t decide what’s worse, only that I’d rather he stab me than spend another day restrained in that room.

“Where is she?”

He steps forward, running his nose over my shoulder. “Go see for yourself, Audrey, since you’re so dammed curious about her.” I do my best not to flinch, ignoring the cruel tone in his voice.

“What room?”

“Figure it out,” he seethes.

My legs are wobbly as I take my first few steps down, the pace awkward and jolting with our arms, but I don’t stop, memories of this place… altered irreparably. I shudder as I peek into the room I woke up in yesterday. I vaguely remember having been carried from it at all. I remember being huddled in his arms, feeling like my body was made from lead.

My free hand is shaking as I shove open one half of the heavy double doors, only getting a few inches into it before Gideon’s voice whispers inches from my ear, making me yelp. “Remember when I used to hide candies around the house? You’d go room to room searching it top to bottom.” He laughs, but the sound, like always is jarring and uncomfortable. “You’d find candy in every room except this one.”

“Because I would never go in.”

“I liked how excited you’d get every time you found one, so I put a few in every room.”

I take a shuddering breath, my hand suspended midair. Paused. Trembling on the door. “Not much of a game then it is?”

“You tell me, puppet. Open the doors.”

My lip wobbles.

“Go on then, go find the bitch. You need her so badly after all… your precious closure.”

I try to let his words rush over me, but they hit home because there’s nothing more than a bone-deep sense of responsibility that keeps me asking. A love I remember having for her mother once upon a time before everything that was fun and comforting got ugly. Because Gideon doesn’t care, can’t care. But I can. I must not move fast enough for him when he lurches forward, shoving me through the doors, making me cry out as our arms tug. My eyes land on the corner of the room, a small round—

I vomit.

Jessica’s head is turned around, facing the wall in some morbid kind of time-out, sitting high on a rolling table. The rest, oh god, where’s the rest? I try to backtrack, try to shove us both back out when he pulls my chin up, barely waiting long enough for me to wipe the spittle from my lips before his grazes mine. “Such a smart little puppet, Audrey. You went to the best room first.”

“What?” I croak.

“It’s our game, remember? I put a piece in every room—"

I spin again, narrowly struggling out of his grip before my sick burns its way up my throat, my stomach lurching and cramping with the force of it. Panic sears my chest like a hot iron; I don’t think either of us is ready for it when I bolt. Our linked arms jerk, Gideon’s eyes going wide as I spin to face him and pull.

“Audrey! Stop!” he grapples for me, but with a sickening pop, it gives. I fall hard against the aged gray carpet, refusing to look at the warm blood leaking out over my skin as I scramble to my feet, darting up the stairs.

“Where are you going to run to, Audrey?” he laughs. “They’re all gone. I’m all you’ve got left!” the latter half is bellowed, and I can’t stop my answering scream as I hit the foyer. I don’t get far before he’s crashing into me, taking us both to the ground with a jarring slam. “Don’t run, never fucking run from me!”

“Look what you did! You killed so many people! How could I not run? Huh? Why would I want to love a monster like you!” I scream it, inches from his face as we scramble on the floor, our arms and hands slick with blood mixing and slipping together on the hardwood.

I don’t miss the crazed, hurt look on his face, or the way it makes my heart clench as I struggle to flip myself to my stomach, slipping in our blood, sending my chin slamming into the hardwood. The sound of the phone ringing harmonizes with the ringing in my ears from the impact as my hair is fisted, Gideon grunting as he jerks me up against his chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you want me.”

When his hand finds my mouth, I bite down hard. He hisses and lets go, but it’s only to shove me forward, sending me to my face. I sob, dragging myself away as he gets to his feet. My entire body aches, the strap of my white nightgown he cut to work around our arms earlier dangling low on my bloody chest. I gawk as he calmly stalks toward the receiver, spinning to stare at my crumbled form on the ground as he answers it.

Daring me.

I hold my breath, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds of my sobs… to cover for him. Because… because I’m fucking horrible and he’s Gideon. He’s my best friend and he’s right.