Page 23

Darkness, heavy and oppressive, swallowed me. As the power shut off and the lights went out, the blackness settled around me, a heavy weight on my chest that rendered me immobile. Sliding down the wall, I was frozen on my kitchen floor. My cell phone, the battery dead, was clutched in my hand. Even if it was working, I didn’t know who to call. I didn’t think I could even speak past the lump firmly lodged in my throat. I felt myself getting sucked under, trapped in a riptide of memories as the past and present blurred together.

Locked away and relegated to the dark…That was where I was sent any time I disappointed my parents. It was the worst punishment of theirs. The angry words, the pinches and slaps, and even the skipped meals, I could handle…But the attic? It broke me a bit more each time. Up there, time stopped. The large space was completely void of any light. So dark and penetrating that I could see nothing else. Couldn’t daydream of painting. Couldn’t see anything but the shadows that engulfed me.

Lightning cracked, illuminating my kitchen and flashing over the mop I had left propped up in the corner. The white ropes twisted together like locks of hair, morphing into a blurry image. Like an inkblot, the vague notion of someone familiar developed where I looked. Once the light faded, I was sucked back into the void, no longer in the present, but trapped in the past, still haunted by ghosts.

Nine years old. I asked for a second slice of cake at a birthday party. As soon as we got home, I was sent up there. Lying on the floor, I pressed my face to the door, clinging to the sliver of light that slipped in. The attic of my childhood home was a cavernous, windowless space.

It seemed to stretch for miles, the dusty rough wood that made up the floor and walls scratching at my skin and pulling at my clothes. Everything up there was old, sharp, and cold. The stale air didn’t move up there, the smell of moth balls and mildew filling the air, swirling around beleaguered antiques and forgotten mementos.

“Lilah? Can you hear me?” My little sister’s voice drifted through the thick wood, filling me with hope.

“Lissy. Tell Mama I’m sorry. I’ll skip dinner and dessert for a week. Just please let me out.” I remember begging, my tears and heavy breathing just stirring the dust that coated the entire space.

“I’ll go talk to them. I’ll be back,” she promised, and a spark of hope burned inside of me. Younger, smarter, prettier, Lissette was everything I wasn’t. Like pancakes, I was the tester child—parented by trial and error. All of my flaws were righted in Lissette. Not that she had many. The excitement I’d had at her birth, the desperation for a friend to keep me company in the cold world I was being raised in, was like a living pulse inside of me.

“It worked!” Her saccharine-sweet voice rang out as I heard the sound of the door unlocking. Glimpses of her white-blonde hair welcomed me like the first beams of light after a storm. I rushed out of the room to hug her, but her arms stayed limp in my grasp.

“Lilah! How did you get out?” Mama’s outraged voice rang from behind me. Wide-eyed, I pulled away to look at my sister. She was avoiding eye contact, her eyes filling with tears.

“Lissette… She said…” I muttered, looking between them in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Mama! Lilah made me do it! She said if I didn’t get the key and help her out, she would get me in trouble.”

“Liar!” I yelled. But it was too late. Mama’s grip on my arm became bruising as she pulled me back into the attic. Lissette’s smug smile was the last thing I saw before I was locked away again.

It wasn’t the first time she had betrayed me, and it wouldn’t be the last. So desperate for someone on my side, I kept believing her, kept grabbing for the bit of light she got to carry around while I was relegated to the dark. Sisterhood was nothing like I had imagined. Mama’s constant shadow, Lissette took all her cues from her. Too quickly, my baby sister determined that in order to get ahead, she had to climb over me.

Her taunts rang through my brain. She liked to play with me like I was a bug under a microscope. How long could I stay up there without losing myself completely? A piece of me always stayed up there after one of my punishments, until the girl who was let out was not the same as the one who was put in.

Caught between the past and the present, the roiling emotions inside me matched the storm brewing outside. Windows shuttered, the house creaked, but I was back in that attic, unable to move, unable to leave, unable to catch a breath. I could hear myself wheezing into my knees, clutched tightly to my chest. Dots filled my vision as I tried to slow my breathing, tried to get oxygen into my lungs.

A thin sheen of sweat coated my body, causing my clothes to cling to my skin, emphasizing my discomfort and sending shivers down my already shaking body.

I didn’t know how much time passed. My limbs felt heavy, my legs weak, but I was frozen, paralyzed by the deep nothingness that seemed to stretch around me, anchoring me to the ground.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside, and I froze. I didn’t know if I was imagining it or not. No longer able to trust my own perception of reality, I was strung tight on a wave of panic and anxiety. Knocks rang throughout the house, heavy and loud over the cries of mother nature that surrounded me. I flinched as another bang rattled my front door.

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. I was sure it was a trick, that the door would open just enough to give me a taste of freedom, a glimmer of light, only to be slammed shut in my face. False hope, familiar and bitter, settled around me.

Somehow, without realizing it, those footsteps from earlier were much closer. Beams of light flashed through my hallway, followed by the heavy thud of boots. Muffled voices, deep in timbre, rumbled throughout the house causing me to freeze. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my cries, curling further into myself.

They made their way into the kitchen, and with efficient sweeps of their flashlights, quickly spotted me. The light blinded me, the beam lowering, revealing the silhouettes of three large men. There was a muttered curse before someone switched on another flashlight to illuminate the group. Leather-clad, tattooed, and humungous, the men sucked all of the air out of the room. The oldest of the group stepped forward, his kind eyes tracking my form before he crouched in front of me.

“Hi, there. Sorry if we startled you. Scythe sent us to check on you.” His voice was low, gentle, as if talking to a spooked animal. He reached out to help me up, and I shrunk back, only able to muster a mewling protest.

“Okay, okay. Let’s give her some space,” he said, sliding down to the ground to sit across from me, leaning his back against the kitchen island. The other men headed to the other side of the room, their faces masks of anger and confusion.

“Power’s down on the whole block. Probably not gonna get it back up and running until tomorrow,” the man said casually, as if it was normal to have a conversation with a panicked woman he had never met.

“Scythe’s been tight-lipped about you, but I know you’ve been helping with Beth. My Old Lady wants to join your little craft club. Trying to rope a few of the women in.” Beth? These men know Elizabeth? I swallowed, my throat raw, even though I hadn’t spoken.

“How—Who are you?” I asked, my eyes flicking around the group that lounged with feigned nonchalance around my kitchen.

“Reaper’s Guard. At your service, ma’am,” the biggest of the group said. His eyes were kind, a startling juxtaposition to the large scars splicing his face and arms.

“Think you’re ready to get off that floor?” the older man asked me gently, his body language purposefully relaxed, even though I knew he was anything but. The sound of the door opening jarred me, and I sat up quickly, pressing my back tighter to the wall. The men eyed each other before shining their lights on the hallway.

A muttered curse reached my ears just as Eliot stepped into the fluorescent glow of the flashlights. Without my control, a sob ripped out of my throat as I locked eyes with him. His expression was startled, but it quickly morphed to anger as he took in my distress and the men around me.