Page 7

CHAPTER 7

REDLEY

That night, I don’t have nightmares. Not sure if it’s Elvis singing to me or the worst beating of my life, but I see my mom in the old field where she and I used to pick flowers for the table in the late spring and summer. My brother runs toward me as we play tag, and a whole lot of memories I considered lost remind me of their presence.

When I wake in the morning, an unbearable sadness already sits on my heart. Then I look over and find him still sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, watching me. He’s possibly more handsome than I remembered with the dark circles under his eyes, highlighting his cheekbones. He doesn’t look like he slept. Blood still covers the same clothes he wore last night when I found him here. So, I don’t believe he ever left either.

His presence is the strangest comfort. I wanted him gone so bad, but finding him here has my heart racing. “Why did you stay?” I ask, staring at him like he’s my savior. Maybe falling half in love with him last night wasn’t about the head injury so much as it was about him.

His gaze runs over me, making some kind of judgement before he answers. “Just wanted to make sure you woke up.” He gestures to his head, reinforcing the feeling that he cares. He worried about me sleeping with a concussion.

“Why?” I ask, hoping he might say something as romantic as I’m feeling. Nothing would make this moment more perfect than some star-crossed confession, but why would he want me that way? He’s older and handsome. I’m just Red Little, and I know I look bad after what Granny did to me last night. My face is already burning.

“I owed you one, but it’s paid up now,” he says, and the seriousness in his tone makes the hairs stand up on my arms.

“From you watching me sleep?” I ask, forcing myself up in the bed.

My head spins, and as I look at him from this new angle, I notice something different. He looks better and worse than the night before. He seems to be breathing okay, like he wasn’t actually that hurt. Even more strangely, he’s got a lot more blood on him. Where the hell did all of that come from if he never left?

“No,” he tells me with a slight smile.

My eyes search the room for an answer. The sun sits much higher in the sky than I expect when I look out the window. It’s nearly noon. Panic rushes through me, second-guessing what I’m seeing, because there isn’t a chance in hell Granny would let me sleep this long. Maybe my brain did bleed too much while I slept.

“Oh God!” I gasp as I jump out of bed to salvage what I can of the day. My head rotates with sick dizziness, but I keep myself upright. I refuse to acknowledge any of the evidence around me, or maybe I just can’t make sense of it.

All I know is that I have so many chores that need to be done, and I’m already behind. I won’t be surprised if I get the strap again today. I pray there’s a glass down at the general store. There was last week, but no telling what they have now. My surprise guest will have to fend for himself while I’m out.

He stands in front of me with a patient expression. He holds his hands out, trying to slow my pace, but I’ve already lost more time than I can afford. “Calm down, you’re hurt.” His hand grazes mine as he continues to try to keep me in the room. Another surprising flash of gentleness that melts me. Who knew I was so weak for kindness? “You need to lie in bed and rest.” I very nearly listen to him, but I can’t.

“Granny,” I say as I push around him.

His hand slips off my arm, and I know from experience if he really wanted to stop me, he would. He’s an immense man, and I’m not stronger than him. I throw my bedroom door open and run out into the cabin, desperate to do damage control. I’m sure she’ll already be working on something in the kitchen, but she’s dead quiet this morning. That’s even worse than when she’s yelling. She’s meaner. He follows so close I can’t shut the door behind me.

I panic, thinking Granny might see him. I draw up short trying to prevent exactly that, but it’s unnecessary. His chest hits my back, and we both stand in the open. Blood covers the floors and walls, sprayed and speckled like someone played in it. It takes me a full minute to understand why the living room looks ripped from my nightmares. I count to sixty in my head, waiting for it to all disappear. I’ve had this bad dream so many times since my family was killed I don’t even scream. It’s never been Granny before, always my parents and brother, but it’s exactly the same.

I’m asleep, and if I’m very patient, I’ll wake up. I always wake up.

But this isn’t the same old dream, and it doesn’t go away.

The smell of metal is so thick my stomach roils. It’s worse than the sight in front of me. In the center of the floor, Granny’s body lies limp and lifeless. White curls stained red from the puddle of her own blood pooled beneath her. Oh god, oh no. She can’t be dead. But she is, blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, mouth slack, hands up like she begged for her life.

From the color of her skin, it’s clear she’s been dead for hours. If there’s one thing we know out here on this mountain, it’s death. The final thing that convinces me I’m awake, and this is all a horrible reality, is the razor strap lying across her chest and the gaping hole in her neck. How did I sleep through all of this? She must have screamed? Why the hell didn’t I notice? I look over and find her killer standing right beside me and I’m sick to be so close to him, sick that he helped me and I was grateful just a few short minutes ago.

“She died quick,” he promises. “I sharpened up the razor for her with that strap before I used it.”

Anger pours off him like he’s still mad at her despite the fact he killed her. This wasn’t an eye for an eye. It was one beating for her whole damn life. A scream rips out of my throat, so loud I know Mrs. Reed who lives down a ways will hear. How could he do this? I spin to face him, looking for some type of answer. Why the hell would he do this to her? Instead, I find him willing to fight me back. The extra blood on his clothes looks awfully different now, and I nearly vomit as I realize that’s Granny’s blood. She’s dead. I’m all alone.

“Why? Why?” I scream, demanding he bring her back with my pain alone, but of course that’s not possible.

My useless fists pound against his chest. My head is still messed up from the beating last night. My eye is swollen shut, and I can barely see straight. I have no chance of hurting him, yet I keep trying. He lets me continue for a while before stopping me. His giant hands wrap around my wrists with complete control, and I shake uselessly in his hold.

“You were kind to me, and she beat you worse than a dog.” He speaks the words like they make perfect sense and this was the perfect response. “I enjoyed killing her for what she did.”