Page 7 of Devil’s Torture

I hear a grunt in the direction of the other bathroom, and I can’t help but smile and press, “Are you dressed?”

She shout-mumbles, “Yeah. Teeth.”

“Don’t forget your deodorant and your glasses.”

Do I need to remind her again? Yes.

Will she glare at me for it? Of course.

By the time we’re heading out to school, she’s not quite as grumpy, but anything is an improvement honestly. This is my life, people. Every single day.

I glance at her in the mirror. “What are you thinking for Halloween this year?”

“Can you get me a fox tail?”

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “You just want a fox tail? Not like a fox costume?”

“A fox onesie would be okay too, but I kind of just want the tail. And ears,” she says it like that should be obvious.

“Clearly,” I scoff, “you have to have the ears.” My eyebrows pull together as I steal another glance at her. “What are you going to wear with the tail and ears?”

“I don’t know. Something but nothing special,” she informs me.

“We can look tonight. I’m sure there are color options and who knows what else.”

“Great,” she chirps.

One of the reasons I chose to rent in our neighborhood is because it’s kid friendly. There are always trick-or-treaters and New Orleans always loves spooky season. It’s kind of the whole vibe.

Here people don’t need an excuse because spooky is more of a year-round situation. I’m all for it. My mom, when she was still alive, was the kind of mom who would pull together a costume with stuff around the house and a lot of crafting, if necessary. I’m not that kind of mom.

I can find the right clothes if that’s all required, but making something from scratch is a little out of the scope of my abilities.

“Are you looking forward to Halloween?” I glance again. “There’s a party at the school, right? I’ll look to see what I can sign up for in the classroom app.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. I do like trick-or-treating,” she says it like she’s a movie villain who steals all the candy.

“I’ll have to check your haul,” I remind her.

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t using it as an excuse to steal a few,” she tries to sound like she’s mad, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Mom tax is real.”

Dawn purses her lips and makes a noncommittal sound. But I can still see the amusement dancing in her eyes when I glance at her again.

“Love you,” I call out when it’s her turn to jump out of the car.

“Love you too, Mom,” she throws it back over her shoulder and I can’t help but smile even as a pang of regret hits my heart.

I’ve never hidden who her father is or why he’s not here. Even though I know I don’t have the entire story or the full truth, I’ve given her what I have. It’s all I can do.

As I head to work, which thankfully won’t be exciting and will be just another day in the office, I can’t help but think of Miller. Again.

He missed everything. I resent him for missing the bad days; I ache for him missing the good ones. And another day goes by with lies scattered on the road behind us while a setting sun and nightmares stretch out ahead.

CHAPTER 2

RUNE