Page 45 of Homecoming: The Devil's Society

Her face turns toward me, her eyes soft. “I know. I believe you.”

The loud ringtone of my phone breaks our moment. Pulling it out, I see it’s my dad.

I answer, putting it on speakerphone.

“I need you both to come over,” my dad says.

Rain smiles. “Hi, Nate, we will be right over.” Her tone is excited once more.

Chicks are fucking weird.

Before my dad can respond, I hang up. They can chitchat in a couple minutes in person.

Rain steps before me. Her fingers dance along the stubble along my jawline, reiterating what she just said, “I believe you.”

We are in the golf cart pulling up to Nate’s and I am still shocked.

“And you didn’t even wake me up? What if I wanted to watch?” I say to E, irritated. As we drove past his car outside, that’s when I sawhim, laying there frozen.

I’m pissed.

I’ve never seen a person be dragged behind a car before.

E side-eyes me. “I wake you, you're annoyed. I don’t wake you, you're annoyed. What did your little research say about psychopaths around this?”

I know he’s making fun of me now.

“Obviously, you wouldn’t know to wake me. You pick up on my cues. I get annoyed when woken up,” I say, rolling my eyes.

His arms spread wide, as if to say,see.

“Did you know freezing to death is apparently one of the more painful ways to go? It starts with the fingertips, toes, nose, and ears. Which are the worst parts. Once it reaches your internal organs, it’s like nothing. But the initial start of it, apparently hell,” he throws back at me.

I laugh sarcastically, “Oh, doing your own research now?”

As we park, he looks over at me. “Obviously. I’ve had a guy attached to my car in the cold for two days. Skin scraped off with muscles and nerves exposed, I was curious.”

And when will the dead man be leaving our driveway?” I ask.

A loud groan leaves him as he throws his head back. “I’ll be in the woods after this, sorting him out.”

His annoyance brings a smile to my face.

Getting out of the cart, we walk up to the large door and let ourselves in. E continues walking farther into the home he grew up in.

I wonder if his room is still here, unchanged. Or did Nate turn it into something like parents do once the kids leave the nest?

I glance up to the second floor. E must have noticed I wasn’t behind him. “What are you looking at?”

With my head still lifted, my eyes shift to E. “Was your room up there?” I say with curiosity.

Walking back over to me, he replies, “Uh, yeah.”

He doesn’t get it. A childhood room is sacred. The memories and the innocence, all possibly preserved upstairs. Perhaps not so innocent in his case. Regardless, there is something priceless about getting to relive those precious memories.

“Can I see it?” I take a deep breath in as I ask, because I’m nervous he won’t want to. His shoulders shrug, then he begins going up the large, grand staircase, hollering back, “You coming?”

Rushing behind, he leads me up, and instead of going across the second-floor balcony, we turn down the hallway. The cream walls are lined with thick, dark chocolate wood trim which matches the border of the flooring, which frames the cream carpet. A few rooms line the hall. The shine of the sun peeks through each doorway, except for one. The same one we stop in front of. I notice his breathing picks up, becoming more loud as he exhales through his nose. My hand touches his back gently. “We don’t have to do this.”

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