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Once I start feeling again, I can’t stop.
And that’s its own form of torture.
I’m naked. Daddy’s announcing his run for the presidency and the audience is filled with a thousand people who look like John, Stellan and Blaine. They’re all holding red, blue and purple balloons. They’re clapping. Grinning,
And chanting my name.
“Lind-say! Lind-say!” they shout, the chorus louder and louder as someone nudges me to step on stage. I’m wearing stiletto heels. My calves scream, my thighs shake, and my breasts bounce as I’m shoved, hard, toward Daddy. He’s standing at a podium in the middle of the stage, klieg lights blasting from above, and he has an angry, frozen smile on his face.
“Go out there, Lindsay! You’re embarrassing us!” Mom hisses. I’m on my hands and knees and can hear her from behind me. The room gets cold, a swift gust coming from the crowd. I look up, and all the faces are covered by a gray mist that swirls, turning into demon faces that fade and form, morphing as an ill wind blows.
“Go!”Mom shouts. I turn to look at her, my nude ass pointing her way, and all I see is Nolan Corning.
His face splits into an evil grin.
And then he’s on top of me.
The crowd goes wild. “Lind-say! Lind-say!” they chant. They start to clap as I struggle to get away from Corning, but he’s attached to me, like his skin is made of tape. He’s an icicle, jamming at me from every angle, my skin pierced by his cold, cold body. My heart skips beats, my knees weaken, and I hunch over, curled into a ball, waiting for it to end.
Just make it end.
Then he snarls and all the cold turns to hot flesh and fur. I try to crawl away and a putrid scent fills my nose. I gag. I put one hand forward and move with him on top of me. The crowd goes silent and as I look out, opening my mouth to scream for help, I see the auditorium is empty.
The brutal nighttime sky is above us, clouds covering the moon like congressional staffers burying a scandal, and I’m shivering, my body torn, my mouth bruised by some demon that kisses me until I can’t breathe. My throat spasms. My lungs are seared shut.
Stellan appears, the high school version, then Blaine. He’s wearing the suit he wore when we went to homecoming in high school, and he hands me a corsage, clipping the silver elastic band around my wrist.
I look down.
It’s a dead rat.
I scream, but the sound just goes backwards, as if my own cry tries to escape from my toes but can’t. Oh, God, the pain the pain the endless pain. Where’s Daddy? Where’s Mom?
And then relief. I’m alone, in a river of blood, on a scarred wooden stage with the stars above. The cloying trickle of red helps me to stop shivering. I look over my shoulder for the source.
Stellan, John, Blaine, Tara, Mandy, Jenna and Nolan Corning are piled in a heap, eyes dead, bodies draining.
And when I look to my right, the auditorium seats are back. A single spotlight shines on me, showing my nude body, showing the flow of all my enemies’ blood.
A lone person is in the audience.
Drew.
He claps silently.
And whispers --
* * *
“Lindsay!” Myles shakes me, touching my face with a wet washcloth. I’m clawing my face, and my wrist burns. Someone’s pinning down my bad arm and my shoulder burns. “Lindsay, honey, it’s just a dream. Just a bad dream,” he soothes.
“Drew,” I rasp, my voice sounding like rusty guitar strings being plucked by claws. My eyes stay closed and I breathe through my nose, the sound like a train coming over and over again through a tunnel. Myles’ hands are warm and big. He’s worried. I don’t have to open my eyes to tell.
The fluorescent lights are on above me and as I open my eyes I squint, closing my eyes against the assault. When I open them, I see Silas in the tiny rectangular window of my hospital room, looking in.
Somber.
Worried.
