Page 3 of Shadowed With Fear

“Brahm, I— “he chokes, taking a deep breath.

I kneel by Dahlia, my hand running up and down her back and she wracks with her sobs.

“Shh, D. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I murmur into her hair as I wrap her in my arms, pulling her into my lap.

Brahm stills, glancing at his sister in my arms, his demeanor changes completely. He’s no longer laid back and cocky like he was thirty minutes ago. It’s as if in his place is a soldier awaiting orders.

“Which one, Alex?” Dahlia sobs harder at her brother’s question. I knew it was coming but it still cut me. I know this pain. It’s an open festering wound that never fully heals. Not even after all these years.

“Brahm,” Alex starts, straightening his spine as his voice hardens, angry tears rolling down his face, “I’m sorry to tell you this but there was an incident this evening. Your mother…” He chokes again, inhaling deeply. “Your mother didn’t make it.”

Brahm nods, there is a slight tremor in his body as he turns to me with Dahlia. One passing look and I know that he wants me to stay where I am.

“Have you been able to contact my father?”

“No, not yet. We need you to come down to the station. We have reason to believe this wasn’t an accident,” the superior officer’s gruff tone is calm as he speaks.

“Yes, sir. Grays, stay with D. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He steps through the threshold, the door slamming behind him. And it’s just Dahlia’s heartbreaking cries.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” she cries over and over as I rock her gently on the hall floor.

“It’s okay, Dahlia. I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Dahlia

When Blue Oyster Cult began playing on the radio, I should have taken it as a sign. On a night when the veil between darkness and light is at its thinnest, I shouldn’t have been surprised coming face to face with the boogeyman.

“Are you sure? We weren’t going to stay much longer. Issac and I can take you home.” Liz’s face was painted in smears of red and black down the fullness of her cheeks and slim bridge of her nose. The clown makeup had been ruined hours before in the midst of sweaty costumed bodies writhing in the strobing lights and smoke hazed room.

My best friend had dragged me here, quite literally, against my will and better judgment. Halloween parties were fun. Great even. The holiday is my favorite and I wait nearly all year to celebrate the one night I can be someone I’m not. However, this year, I did not want to be someone who goes to a party at a frat house in our town.

“Yeah, I’m sure. My brother said he’d give me a ride. I just really want to get out of these wet clothes,” I grumbled.

Some idiot tripped on the porch and dumped a beer and, maybe, vodka all over me. My hair clung to my neck and chest in tangled tendrils. The hot air sat like a lump in the back of my throat. No matter how deep the breath, air seemed to be absent inside the house. My inner thighs felt glued together from the sticky residue left by the drinks. A shower was a must as soon as I walked through my bedroom door.

“Okay, D. Just text me as soon as you get home. I’ll pick you up in the morning. 7:30?” Liz quirked her brow, her tone leaving no room for arguments.

“7:30. Be safe!” I waved back, making my way through the crowd to the front door. The cool night air was an instant relief. Crisp and cold, I could feel it filling my lungs with each inhale, a cloud of fog wafting through my lips to disappear into the dark night. A glance at my phone told me it was 12:11 am, officially Halloween.

Shitty ass way to start.

The music from inside the frat house dulled to a slow bass, then immediately began picking back up as the familiar strings of (Don’t Fear) The Reaper flowed through the still silence on the street.

Leaves rolled across the sidewalk in whispers. Wind blew slight breezes through ruffled orange trees, decorations bobbing from the branches they hang in. A gauzy white ghost hung from the porch railing beside me, floating ominously with round black eyes. A peace unlike any other settled into my bones. Tension waned from me in complete opposition to the waxing of the glowing moon, shining brightly through sparse clouds.

Flashes from headlights on the street catch my attention. As the black truck Brahm drives rolls to a slow stop, my stomach drops.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“It’s great to see you too, Dahlia.”

“Where’s Brahm?”

“Preoccupied,” he snorted. “Let me take you home.”

I groaned, grabbing my phone and jacket, dragging my feet across the yard to the passenger door of my brother’s truck sliding into the seat.

Just be nice, Dahlia. Short replies. Courtesies. Silence.