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She attempts to open the knife, but doesn’t know how. After multiple failed attempts, she huffs loudly.
“Oh my God, can you help me, please? Why are these things so difficult?” she whines.
Looking down at her, I smirk and twist my head away as I barely contain a laugh. She’s so cute when she’s mad. The height difference makes it that much funnier when I peer down and she’s comparable to an angry toddler—huffing and stomping her feet, her face a deep shade of coral.
She notices and glares disdainfully. I’ve never been with someone as short as her. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve dated anyone under five foot seven. I say “dated” as if I currently have someone to compare to.
Lyr and I aren’t together—I don’t think. Not that I wouldn’t want to be, but she wants to go home. It’s why I don’t have any friends in the In-Between. Keeping other spirits at arm’s length keeps me from having to mourn them when they leave me. Everyone does eventually.
Convincing her to stay would be selfish, so I’ve refrained from saying anything at all. I don’t want to go back to how things were before she got here, but I can’t ask her to stay. They say if you love something, let it go, or some stupid shit like that.
“Hold the handle and keep those pretty little fingers off the blade.” She holds the knife slightly away from her. I return my gaze to Lyr and snap my fingers. The blade shoots out and locks into place.
“Hell yeah,” she says enthusiastically.
I flash her a grin and chuckle, “Okay, I’m gonna roll him now. Ready?”
“Ready,” she says.
“One, two, three… go.” I roll Jake toward me in one swift movement and hold him in place. He hardly stirs. He just burps and a loud, smelly stench pushes past chapped lips. I grimace, and Lyric reaches to pinch her nose with a disgusted look on her face. I push her hand down as quickly as possible, as to not disturb Jake too much.
“We don’t have time for dramatics. We gotta move fast.”
“Fuck you. It’s gross.” She spits.
She’s a defiant little shit, and I growl in annoyance. I’ll have to handle her later; now is not the time. Lyr’s hand is already inside the mattress when I instruct her to pull out.
I snap my fingers again, and the spring uncoils just enough. I’m met with a shocked expression, and I shrug my shoulders in response. Lyr drops the flappy part of the mattress down, and I roll Jake back onto his stomach. The spring pierces his abdomen, and his eyes fly open.
Jake screams in agony as he rolls backward, launching himself off the edge of the bed and onto the stained carpet. Lyr, clearly startled, jumps back and slaps her hands to her ears, attempting to mute the shrieking sound.
Rushing to her, I place my hands over hers and we watch as Jake rolls around on the floor.
“What the fuck, man? Help! Is somebody in here?”
He clutches his stomach.
It looks like the spring pierced his intestines. He’ll survive.
When the sobbing stops, I release Lyr’s hands and wait. For what? I don’t know. But then I see it: Jake gets up on his knees and slowly crawls around the floor, looking for a clean piece of fabric. He finds a white tank that has a singular stain on it, which is honestly good compared to all the other clothing that seems to have vomit all over it.
He tears at the baggy tank until it rips into decent-sized strips. He hisses as he wraps the individual sections of cloth around his abdomen and ties them tightly to keep pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding.
I place my hands on Lyr’s shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze.
“Do you want him to see you?”
When she makes eye contact, I can tell she’s thinking hard about it. Her eyes shift, and she looks like she’s searching her brain for the answers to the SATs.
A mumbled “yes” rolls off her tongue. She looks frightened.
“Lyr, you don’t have to let him see you if you don’t want to. I just thought that it’d be a good time to practice moving across the Veil.”
She needs to learn these things. It’ll all be useful to her in the end.
“I can do it, Attie. I just need to remind myself that he can’t hurt me anymore. Now I’m the one hurting him. I’m the monster under his bed.”
Jake continues to sit on the floor, clutching his stomach as he tries to gain control of his breathing. He wipes at his face with his hands and grabs the leftover cloth from the tank and blows his nose in it. I cringe.
