Page 117 of Eldritch

“I asked them to leave,” Letisha said. “Didn’t do any good. They’d brought their own booze. Started messing up my parent’s house. Before I could call the cops…”

Letisha looked up at Sybil, perhaps realizing she’d hijacked the story.

Sybil wasn’t certain if she wanted to continue. In fact, she really, really didn't want to tell Taggert this.

“I don't know why this is important,” Sybil said, looking at Clarice.

“Because it will help Taggert understand what he's gotten himself into, my dear,” Clarice said.

Sybil produced one of those sounds that could be interpreted as derision and defiance. Her gaze snagged on Taggert's for a moment.

Sybil shivered, remembering so many details about that night she didn't want to, including the fact that she'd ruined her own life in so many ways. Or she'd dented it significantly.

“I didn't want to be there,” Sybil said.

Yes. There. Tell it like it was so even Letisha will comprehend the parts you never expressed to her.

Maybe this was good. Because if Taggert dragged her out of here, she might take comfort in the realization she'd told the complete story to people who mattered. And even to the asshole Taggert. As for Taggert knowing what he was getting into...well, she couldn't guarantee that what had happened at the party would happen again, right?

“Hey,” Taggert said gruffly. “Get on with it.”

“It was a loud party. Someone kept turning up the music even when I was turning it down. Loud noises of any kind aren't my favorite.”

“That's for sure,” Taggert said, his voice deadpan. “You’ve always been too damned sensitive.”

Too damned sensitive, Sybil. You are so, so weak.

Resentment and hurt spiked inside her. She knew the trigger. She'd felt it so many times she'd lost count. The teenagers at the party absolutely experienced her rage.

But she’d gotten control of her anger over the years, hadn’t she?

Sybil swallowed hard. “The crowd of kids got obnoxious. Half of them were shitfaced before they even arrived.”

“I feel guilty still that I let some of those kids even stay at the party.” Letisha shrugged. “I was a popular cheerleader and wanted to be junior class president. I let a lot of stupid stuff slide that I shouldn't have.” Her expression filled with genuine remorse. “I regret it to this day.”

Any of the slight resentment Sybil might have harbored for Letisha not taking care of business at the party trickled away.

“We were all stupid then,” Sybil said. “We were just sixteen.”

As if she could read Sybil’s mind, Clarice asked, “I imagine you begrudged that a bit, didn't you, Sybil?”

Sybil hesitated before letting it hang out. “For a few years.”

“Can we stop with the soap opera and get to the point?” Taggert asked with an almost whine in his voice.

Sybil's body reacted to his sharp words, her jaw tight enough it ached. She looked at the floor, not wanting to see anyone's expression at this point.

Above them, the ceiling creaked. No one looked at it this time.

“The party was chaotic. People were ignoring me at first. I was invisible. I think it was around one in the morning when these two boys who had a locker next to me...” She almost couldn't force the words out. “They used to stare at me at school and then laugh sometimes, as if they saw something absurd about my mere existence. They did this even before everyone heard about my father. They started following me around the house.”

“Oh, God,” Maria said. “Don't tell me...”

How do we know you aren't like your freak father? How do we know you aren’t going to lose your shit??

Sybil said it out loud. “How do we know you aren't just like your freak father? These boys said this in the living room after following me around the house, throwing disgusted looks at me mixed with amusement. They were enjoying torturing me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Taggert grinned. “Sounds like something I did with this bitch when I was in college?—”

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