Page 13 of Moist!

chapter two

I groan as I wake up, my back screaming at me for sleeping on the floor. I wish I would have gotten my own place to stay instead of at the chalet my mother booked. She put me in a glorified closet with a camping cot. The floor seemed like a better plan, but now I'm regretting it.

A yelp leaves me when I open my eyes. This is not my temporary room. It's not even a house. Stalactites hang above me. Or maybe they're stalagmites. I can never remember the difference. Either way, they're looming high above me like an executioner just waiting to cleave my head from my body.

My gaze darts around, taking in the large cave.

I don't know how I got down here without all my bones breaking.

I shouldn't be alive. Yet as I push to my feet, I feel nothing but the ache in my muscles from lying on the hard ground.

I stretch before making my way toward one of the moist walls.

The light from the slit high above only illuminates so much.

I probably shouldn't be wandering. Stay put.

Let rescuers come to you. Isn't that what they say when you're lost?

I doubt anyone will be searching for me, though.

Unless the resort notices I haven't returned my skis.

They might call someone. No one in my family will notice my absence.

The thought sends a sharp pain near my heart.

I rub the spot as I reach the wall. It's smoother than I expected. It's not until I'm halfway around the large space that I notice the statue set up in the middle on a slightly raised rock. I abandon my pursuit of mapping the cave and walk around the carved stone.

Large wings sprout from the back, though they’re tucked in close to the body. I giggle at the loincloth strategically placed around its waist. I'm no longer laughing when I circle him, though. My mouth drops open at the amount of abs on what I can now see is a gargoyle.

“How the hell did you get down here?” I whisper, then roll my eyes. It's not like he'll answer.

My knee almost gives out when I use the statue's muscular forearm to pull myself onto the platform.

My head swims and my vision goes white. I must have hurt myself more than I thought.

Maybe I have a concussion or something. When I glance at the man, stone, whatever, in front of me, his image wavers.

I pinch my arm and the scene in front of me settles into some sense of normalcy.

After getting my bearings, I pull in a deep breath and continue my search. I walk around the thing three times, then notice the indents in the ground on either side of the gargoyle as if there are others missing.

“Where'd your friends go, big guy?”

My palms itch to run my hands along his chest. That would be weird.

Even though I'm alone, I really shouldn't feel up a chunk of rock no matter how long my dry spell has been.

I'm not that desperate. Then again, I'm probably going to die down here unless I can find a way out.

I sigh, staring at his intricately carved face.

I don't pay a lot of attention to statues, but this one seems exceptionally executed.

“Whoever made you did a real good job. Now, is there a way out of here or am I stuck?” I glance around the muted space. “I'm going to go searching. You stay here and keep a lookout.”

I chuckle at my joke and hop off the platform.

I take two steps and wrinkle my nose. I shed my heavy coat along with my gloves, hat, and scarf.

I'll just have to deal with the snow pants since I'm not about to unlace my boots.

Even without the extra layers, it's warm in here, which is strange since there's an entire mountain of snow high above my head.

I glance up, taking in the rocks hanging like daggers.

Moisture gathers on the tips until the weight becomes too much and a droplets plummet to the ground.

It takes me a lot less time than I expected to examine the space.

I run my fingers along a smooth section of rock tucked away in back, then yank my hand away.

It's moist, just like the air. It clings to my skin and makes the back of my neck itch.

I wipe my hand on my snow pants, but it doesn't help.

I end up using my sleeve instead. I lope back to the statue and settle against his legs to wait.

“The wall over there looks like a door. You wouldn't happen to have a key, would you?” I sigh, resting my head against him dangerously close to his crotch.

“I don't know if I even want to find a way out.

If there was food and a place to sleep down here, I think I'd be just fine. You seem to be doing okay. Living your best life down here.”

I close my eyes. “Sometimes I feel like a statue. At least when I'm around my family. Like I'm tucked away in a cave of their making. They never did seem to like me. I didn't fit into their brand of people. Who knows why, since they were the ones who raised me. Sometimes I wonder…”

There's no use rehashing old wounds. My siblings used to joke I was the mistake.

The older I got, the less I believed they were joking.

I was determined to make something of myself, even if they didn't acknowledge it.

My father said to pick a stable career since he wouldn't support me once I was an adult.

My mother told me not to embarrass the family, but she didn't really care.

“You know, I became a chef. Went to culinary school and everything.

My parents were mortified. It was the first real thing I did for myself.

I'm still paying off my student loans. The only reason I came on this trip was to try one last time to connect with them.

My mother wasn't going to invite me. I could see it in her eyes when I ran into her at the grocery store. Her friend was there, though, and asked if I was excited about the ski trip.”

I laugh, though there's no humor in the sound.

“I don't even know how to ski. Or snowboard. My cousins sent me up the mountain, saying it was a small hill. From the looks of it, this was not a small one. It’s a very, very big mountain.

Then I fell through some type of fissure in the earth and here I am.

Any idea how I didn't die? Because I feel like I should be dead.”

My gaze travels around the cave as I ramble.

I spill everything I've kept inside from my mediocre upbringing to my parent's neglect.

I talk about my lackluster love life. All the secrets and fears and insecurities I've held erupt from deep within me.

I don't know why ranting to a block of stone feels so good, but it does.

“Do you know what it's like to live your entire life in the shadow of someone who never existed?

It's ridiculous. My mother spent my entire childhood bemoaning some fictional daughter she wanted instead of me. I tried so hard to please her. I craved her approval, yet nothing was ever good enough. Nothing could live up to the child she thought she deserved.”

I spin my upper body around and poke him in his stony abs. “I bet you never had that, did you?”

I lean against his legs once more. “And my dad, well, he wanted a son. He didn't say it directly to me, but he made it pretty clear.”

The longer I think about my father's absence in my life, the more it hurts. He was there physically yet ignored me for most of my life. It was a lonely existence when I finally understood my childhood wasn't normal. None of my friends in school had parents like mine.

Anger, grief, and shame tangle together and make it hard for me to breathe.

I jump to my feet and stare at the frozen gargoyle.

For as lifelike as he is, he can't hear me.

He can't commiserate with me. Someone carved him from stone and stuck him down here in the dark.

He doesn't understand the complexities of a fucked-up family. He doesn't understand anything.

“You're just stone, aren't you?” I murmur, then sigh. “Stone.”

I poke him again, and my finger sinks into him.

Gone is the hard rock. My mind finally catches up with what I'm feeling and I stumble back—right off the platform.

A strong hand grabs my wrist and my bones pop.

Suddenly, I'm enveloped in darkness and an arm wraps around my waist. A belated squeal erupts from me when I'm lifted.

I don't know whether I'm falling or flying. I suppose it doesn't matter.

Maybe I really am dead and this is all a dream. I don't know why my brain would conjure up a gargoyle statue that then came to life. I suppose if I'm dead, it doesn't matter why.

“Stop screaming,” a husky voice says from the void of darkness. “It's bloody annoying.”

“You're British?” I squeak as I flail my arms and kick my feet.

“Stop or I'll drop you.”

“Is that a threat?! No, breathe. This isn't real. I'm dead and this isn't real. I'm just floating.”

“You're not floating. Or dead,” he growls as my feet find solid ground.

The darkness recedes, and I stumble back with a cry.

He seizes my waist again and drops me on my ass.

I blink up at him as his grey wings unfurl behind him.

He crosses his arms over his massively naked chest. Like really naked.

Sure, he has pants on, but still. There's a lot of flesh staring at me.

I shake my head. Flesh doesn't stare, Hazel.

“Uh, weren't you wearing like a…” I gesture to his crotch, then wince and drop my hand. “You know, like a loincloth?”

He rolls his dark eyes. It's the most human response I've seen from a gargoyle. Which doesn't say much since I've never met one. Or seen one other than stuck on top of a building. Those ones stay stone .

He stalks away from me and snatches up my coat.

I push to my feet and hop off the platform.

Part of me wants to run from him. A very small part, which doesn't help.

My survival instincts must be broken. He prowls back to me and shoves my jacket at me.

Instinctively, I take it and hug it to my chest.

“I didn't mean to poke you. Sorry.”

“Doesn't matter. You have to leave,” he says, then jumps off the platform. The ground shakes as he lands next to me.

“Uh, I fell through the crack way up there. So, unless you have a staircase carved into the cave walls or a convenient elevator tucked away somewhere, I doubt I'm getting there.” I press my lips together, and a shiver rolls through me as he steps closer. His gaze bores into me and I realize his eyes aren’t just dark, they’re black.

Pure black. It should be unsettling, but instead heat pools in my gut.

“I'll be flying you up.” He holds out his hands like I'll just walk right into them.

“I'd rather not.” I might throw up if he blasts into the air, and from the look on his face, he's definitely going to rocket me to the top.

His hands drop to his sides and he steps closer. For being made of rock, he's really hot. No, he's warm. My cheeks heat and I glance away. Before I know it, I'm being flipped over his shoulder.

He grips my thigh and bends his knees as I beg him to put me down. Instead, he launches into the air, and the wind whistles past my ears. My scream ricochets around the cave as his wing almost smacks me in the face. I have nothing to hold on to and end up curling my body as much as I can.

A rumbling takes over when I suck in a deep breath, gearing up to scream again.

The edge of his wing clips me on the cheek and tears spring up.

A choked sob leaves me when something hits the back of my head.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and my hair whips around my face.

Strands fly into my mouth, and I try to spit them out.

More debris hits my head and I yelp as freezing wetness slides into my hair and across my skin. Maybe it started raining or one of the stalactites spontaneously melted. Or a stalagmite. Whatever. Why I’m even still stuck on what they’re called while I’m dying for the second time is beyond me.

Another rumble echoes through the cavern, and I kick my feet.

Not my smartest move, but I figure in trying times like these, I can be a little ridiculous.

His fingers grip me tightly. My body jostles against his shoulder, knocking the wind from me.

He flips me over to the ground once more as I gasp for breath, and nausea claws at my throat.

I drop to my hands and knees. I'm not equipped to be tossed around like this.

“For fuck's sake,” the gargoyle mutters.

I glance up and up and up, all the way to where I fell through. No sunlight. No gap. I'm well and truly trapped down here.