Page 116 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

“Is it trespassing if I know the code?” I asked as I leaned heavily against the side of my mom’s house, the garage keypad panel open as I blinked blearily at it like it was a viper waiting to strike. Prudence huffed beside me, and I was once again grateful he’d listened to me when I’d insisted I wanted him physically next to me for this.

After we’d passed inside Eastgrove town limits we’d ended up getting picked up by my old English teacher from high school. Which was equal parts hilarious and mortifying. I looked like total shit, and the side-eye she gave me made that clear. She kept squinting at Prudence too, almost suspiciously, like she thought maybe he’d been the cause of my misfortune. He glared right back at her, arms crossed in defiance. The car ride could not end soon enough. She’d asked about a million and a half art-related questions—which only made it obvious my mom was still bragging about me to everyone around town. Too bad my career was dead and I’d never create anything again—

But.

Wait.

I’d stared at Prudence where he sat to my left, attention snapping to the flowers still etched painstakingly across his skin. I had created something. I’d done it. I’d broken my art drought, and I hadn’t even fucking noticed. He blinked at me, brow furrowed, his lip curling up in annoyance.

“What?” He mouthed, and I shrugged helplessly, and stared at his rainbow arms in awe.

I’d done it.

Motherfucker, I’d fucking done it!

I could art again!

My burst of excitement had died the second I’d stepped out of the car and my legs attempted to buckle from under me. Prudence caught my elbow, huffing in annoyance as we waved goodbye to Mrs. O’Leary and I turned to face my childhood home.

I’d been dreading this. But after everything we’d been through the last few days, that dread had died a slow and painful death. Instead, as I looked up at the familiar yellow siding, and the jolly white trim of my childhood home, I felt relief.

My mom’s pink geraniums hung merrily inside baskets hooked haphazardly across the porch, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw them. She was a monster when it came to her plant babies. She’d even bring them indoors during the winter in the hopes that she could coax the blossoms to return the following spring with nothing but whispered promises. She was endlessly hopeful, despite the fact she knew they were technically annual flowers.

I wondered what Prudence thought of it. Of all of it. It was no mansion, that was for sure. The paint was chipped. The porch furniture was secondhand. The home had…personality. A lot of it. A pride flag wagged at us from where it hung beside the front door, and I cringed down at the weeds that stubbornly sprouted from the cracks in the sidewalk.

Prudence didn’t say anything though.

Nothing.

In fact, he hadn’t made a single noise since we’d gotten out of the car. Not even when we’d banged on the front door, only to discover that no one was fucking home. He hadn’t complained when he was forced to support me all the way to the garage, where I now stood, stomach gurgling. I was tired of being hungry. I was tired of being tired—so rather than wait, I decided to “fuck it” and jabbed the date of my birthday into the key pad.

The door rose painfully slow, inch by inch, screeching loud enough to wake the dead.

When it was finally open, I huffed out a sigh. Unsurprisingly all the cars were missing.

Food was close.

I could sense it.

I hobbled through the empty garage to the door that led into the kitchen, my stomach complaining with enthusiasm as I grabbed the knob and shoved it open. Wooooosh. Crisp, blissfully cold air-conditioning blasted my face as I stepped into the crowded hallway that led to the kitchen. There were piles of dirty shoes scattered along the walls and I couldn’t help but sigh in delight as it finally hit me that I was home.

“Oh, AC,” I crooned happily, as I attempted to kick off my dirty tennis shoes. “How, I love you.” I stumbled into the wall instead, shoes still stubbornly stuck.

Prudence followed behind me, a quiet judging presence at my back.

Maybe all our talking in the woods had eaten up his capacity for speech? And that was why he was so quiet. No matter the reason, I didn’t mind. I liked him silent just as much as I liked him talking. Not as much as I liked him mean though—I privately contested.

I attempted to kick my shoes off a second time—and failed spectacularly. My legs were too wobbly, my balance shot. Everything hurt, and not in the fun way.

Prudence growled his annoyance and my eyes widened in shock as he dropped deliberately to his knees, and held out a hand expectantly. With my jaw practically on the floor, I answered his unspoken demand, leaning hard against the wall for support as I placed my foot in his waiting palm.

It was weird to see him on his knees for me.

Sure he’d blown me in the woods—God bless tongue piercings—but this was different.

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