Page 62 of Secrets That Bind Us

Verity

Devil's Night

It’s silent .

There should be thunder crashing along with the lightning outside of my window, but there’s no noise. Like all of it has been sucked out of the room. The pressure that was on my chest recedes, causing a numbing, prickling sensation that flows down to my legs… my feet. The blanket along with it.

“Come…” The Darkness calls to me, that looming shadow that watches from the corner of every room. Invisible but felt. “This way…”

I get out of my bed but it’s not my bed.

Not really. It’s the one I grew up in. I’m in my old room.

Upstairs. But that isn’t right. There’s a small groan but it sounds like it’s coming from the ground just outside the threshold.

I know that kind of moan– heard it one too many times.

My heart begins to thump wildly against my ribcage but it feels slow, all the blood draining to my feet.

“Mama?” I call out but of course she doesn’t answer. Only her small whimpering moans can be heard from the hallway. I send a prayer to anything… anybody listening. My legs work even though they’re telling me to stay planted. My brain is telling me not to go.

But I have to.

The door opens on its own.

“Come…” It calls to me. “Look what you’ve done.”

I gasp at the sight of my father looming over my mother. “A whore like her fucking mother!”

Her hair is in his grasp, yanking, pulling so rough I can see her scalp turning white.

“Let her go!”

Eyes like ebony find mine, just as lightning strikes, making him look the very monster he is. Teeth gnashed together. I reach for my mother and only then does he obey.

He does let her go and she falls limp on the ground. Not moving.

I scream for her.

But then he’s charging towards me.

Panic sets in but I'm too slow. “You want to be a whore? Fine. Let’s make you a whore. How many cocks have you had in your cunt? Huh?”

The voice that comes from within him is not his. It’s doubled. Demonic. He grabs me by the hair and shoves me down to the ground. “Daddy, no!” I scream but it’s too late – his zipper is down, and he’s angrily trying to shove his penis into my mouth. I bite at it.

He backhands me so hard I see double, and it feels like my teeth vibrate.

Oh God, I’m gonna die. I can feel it. He throws me down to the ground on my back, shoving himself between my thighs, tearing at my panties.

I try to scream again but he grips my throat.

Oh my God, Dean is gonna find me dead. He’s waiting for me out in the loft.

He’s gonna come looking for me. No, no, no, no.

My brain blares at me to move. To keep fighting.

Flailing. My hands find purchase on anything, everything available to me as I scoot as much as I can.

The alcohol on his breath makes bile rise to my throat and I kick at him, kicking somewhere I know has to hurt because he’s thwarted.

“Verity!” Mama moans weakly. She’s crawling, trying to get to me, to help but he’s on me again.

Hands around my throat. It’s all turning black.

Through the flashes of lightning all I see are his beady black eyes.

I reach up behind me, finding the handle to my softball bat and I bring it down.

Daddy groans and I kick him off once more.

Inhale.

“Ungrateful little bitch!”

Exhale.

Rage bowls me over as I bring down the bat.

CRACK!

A blow to his head. Across his face.

Blood spurts from him and droplets land on me.

But they’re so warm.

So beautiful.

I shiver in delight.

CRACK!

He stands but it gives me more access to his back. His ribs.

CRACK!

Daddy falters, taking steps back but I don’t stop.

Can’t stop.

Bile rushes out of my mouth like a frothy substance, adrenaline high.

Down goes the bat.

CRACK!

“Verity!”

Someone cries out but I'm gone, blinded in my fury.

Thud, thud, thud.

Daddy tumbles down the stairs. His belt tinkling along until he lands at the base but I follow in pursuit.

CRACK!

Blood leaves Daddy, pooling at my feet from his crushed face. His gurgles stop. One dark eye staring back at me.

I drop the bat. And vomit once more by his body.

“Come…” The Darkness whispers. “Look what you’ve done.”

Dazed and exhausted, I come to in the dimly lit basement of my mother’s house. All of the tarps are gone, and it’s taken shape– taken mold to the dreams I have for the children to be able to play down here.

Sweat is dripping from every pore in my body; my bangs are slick and matted to my forehead.

There’s a sledgehammer in my hands from Will’s crew and a hole in the wall where a skeleton in a faded, dusty flannel and jeans lies, arms crossed over its chest. It has no teeth, and half of its face is missing.

I blink, then squint at the remains of Richard Huntington, chest heaving when more light pours in from behind me. I stiffen– the muscles in my arms, back, and shoulders aching.

“Some of my best work, if I’m honest.” Dean’s voice comes from the base of the stairs as he prowls forward, so fucking nonchalant– barefoot, plaid pajamas.

I let the hammer slip from my grasp and fall to my knees, then to my butt. “I killed him.” I whisper into the almost-finished room.

Dean sits beside me, crossing his feet and then hugs his knees to his chest.

Mama’s last words in her letter to me ring loudly in my head– “Anything else you find, you blame it on me, sweet girl…”

I blink at Richard’s corpse, then back at Dean. “What happened?”

He takes a minute to answer me, and his face is grim but thoughtful.

“You saved yourself, Verity. You saved your mama– and me, too.” He rubs a thumb over his bottom lip, then shakes his head, as though he’s still looking for the right words to say.

“Richard found me in the loft of the barn, waiting for you. He tried to beat me– did beat me, actually– but I did what my daddy taught me and played dead. I laid around once he went back down the ladder, and when I knew he wasn’t coming back for me just yet, I went down.

But then I heard Marie’s screams. Then yours.

I tried to run as fast as I could, but my sides were hurting from where he’d kicked me.

When I walked in the front door, you already had a bat in your hands, and you were swinging like a madwoman.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t stop even after he was dead.

But once you did, you went up the stairs and took a shower. ”

He says it all so softly, like he’s afraid he’ll spook me.

“I went up after you and helped you change into clean clothes. Sat you on your bed, kissed you. Once I made sure you were alright, I went back down and helped Marie drag him down to the basement. She didn’t have to ask me.

We just went to work. Once he was down there, we used hydrogen peroxide and cleaned every drop of blood we could find.

When the sun came up, Marie sent me to the next town over, and I purchased bricks, cement, plaster, paint, bleach, lye.

Everything you could think of to cover the smell once we had him in that position and ready to brick him up.

Everything my father always told me when he helped work cases in different counties.

Last thing I did was drive his truck into the pond. ”

“Dean…”

“You slept for three days straight, Verity. When you woke up, it was like nothing had happened. Like you didn’t remember anything.

” he sighs. “And your mama and I were happy that you didn’t.

It was like this great nightmare was over.

Your mama knew we were leaving. She was ecstatic for you, Verity.

And no, she didn't want you to come back. I’m sorry if the way she said it made you feel as though she never wanted to see you again.

I’m so sorry she had to break your heart.

She just wanted you far away– and with good reason, baby.

You were gone when cops came sniffing around. ”

“And you were in the hospital.”

Dean nods. “And I was in the hospital.”

“Did your dad know?”

“I think Dad had his suspicions. Not about me– about your mama. But my dad hated Richard. Never understood why farmers from other towns kept bailing him out of jail, or why the judge kept letting him go with slaps on the wrist. I think that’s why he was quick to file it as a Missing Person’s report and let the case go cold.

Richard met his fate, Verity– And one he rightly deserved.

He was going to kill us all that night, I’m sure of it. ”

“I don’t feel bad. Is that bad?”

Dean chuckles. “No. Because I was ready to do the same. Richard was after you that night, Ver. Your mama confronted him. And when she told me he tried to… I was glad he was dead.”

“I keep having these dreams. In one of them… in one of them, Micah said he told Richard about the loft.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, Verity. After he found out I took your virginity, he became a fucking psycho. We lost the play-offs because of him. He made sure to sabotage my future in that way. I wasn’t worried, though– I had the grades. Scouts were still looking at me.”

“Until your accident.”

He nods.

“Dean, I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“What are we going to do? I can’t just leave this like this.” I gesture to the wall and the… bones.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Grab my gym bag and some gloves. I’ll dig a hole and burn the bones.”

“I think you’re supposed to salt them, too.” Dean looks at me quizzically and I shrug. “That’s what they do on Supernatural.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Still obsessed with that show?”

“Have you seen the Winchester Smolder?” I don't tell him I’ve seen every episode at least fifteen times. That once a year, I’ll throw it on and binge it. That there are entire episodes I can lip sync every word without an issue. I’ll either impress or annoy him with that tidbit later.

He chuckles again. “Yeah, I remember the smolder.” He attempts to do it, and I laugh– in front of a fucking corpse.

“Alright, c’mon. Let's get this done before the rain starts up again and the kids wake up. Somehow the kids slept through the racket. Hopefully, we can finish soon. We have a big day tomorrow with the soft launch.”

So we do.

We put on gloves, put the bones in Dean’s gym bag, grab a shovel from behind the barn, and dig a three-foot hole.

Just to humor me, Dean pours salt all over the remains and lights them up.

A heaviness around us seems to lift, and the smoke rises.

When it’s done, they've burned to nothing but ash as the sky does its best to turn pink, but the rain clouds overhead don’t give it a chance.

Fog from the pond rises, lapping at our feet just as he covers the ash back up with soil. “What a fucking Halloween.”

I stare at the dying embers turning into greyed ash as the first few drops put them out. “Devil’s Night indeed.”

We head inside.

We help each other shower, but once we’re in our bedroom, we lose ourselves in soft touches and kisses, trying to help the other get dressed.

Every featherlight touch of his helps me forget.

Every glide of his tongue keeps my mind on him.

On us. On the future we’re going to build together.

When he enters my body, it’s with a precision so fierce yet delicate– in unhurried yet perfectly paced strokes– because he knows exactly what I need, what I want…

how to tell me he loves me with words and acts. Like burying a fucking body.

We crest together and fall together.

Every time.

As it should be.