Page 6 of Homecoming: The Devil's Society

“I’m just messin’ with you, kid. It suits you. It’s… you.” His dad briefly looks my way and winks before focusing back on E.

He’s talking about the face tattoo.

“Are you going to invite me in? And who is this?” He nods his head toward me.

Elijah stands back, bringing the door fully open, and extending his arm. “Please, come in.”

As his dad walks in, E closes the door behind him.

Reaching a hand out to me, he says, “Nate, you can call me Nate.”

Meeting him in the middle, I awkwardly shake it. “Rain. Rain Sinclair.”

I don’t know why I said that.

Nate doesn’t look away, still shaking my hand while looking like he is deep in thought.

“Interesting, very interesting.”

I swallow a giant lump down my throat. What does he mean, interesting?

“Isn’t it?” E is quick to jump in.

Nate lets go of my hand and focuses back on his son. All I can focus on is this older version of my Elijah before us. Ink decorates his exposed skin, faded black and gray can be seen from his neck to his hands and fingers. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood tickles my senses.

Once I return my focus, the three of us walk toward the couches in the living room in awkward silence, or at least it is awkward for me. Our shoes against the hardwood are the only sounds filling the void.

I sit down in the lone lounge chair as E and his dad take a couch each. Both sitting on the ends closest to each other, they both extend their long legs and cross them at the ankles. The heels of their feet rest only a few inches from one another.

“It’s surreal having you back. I always knew this day would come, but now that it’s here I’m not sure I believe it yet.” Nate’s head is resting against the back of the couch as he looks up at the ceiling, rubbing his face.

Elijah doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes are still taking everything in. His mind is racing, trying to figure out how to respond and handle this situation. It’s unfamiliar to him. He is trying to sort out how to feel,ifhe feels.

His dad’s head turns slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t force anything. He lets his son take the time he needs.

“Are you mad about Mom? What I did, what I forced her to do?”

I’m shocked by the question.

Elijah does things because he wants to, because he needs to.

He doesn’t show remorse or ask for approval after the fact. I remain silent, observing the interaction.

Nate sits up, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. His head shakes as he focuses on a spot in front of him. “No. I would never be mad at you for being yourself and doing what you need to do.”

“Good. Because I don’t feel bad about it. I put up with her and that dumb fuck for ten years too long. She deserved everything she got. And I would do it over and over again,” Elijah says casually in response.

“Not that you need to hear this. You did the right thing.”

Nate’s confession of support shocks me.

These two have a bond I can’t yet describe, but it’s unique and supportive. Nate is someone Elijah trusts.

“You’re right, I don’t. But… Thank you. The shit the two of them did to Rain. The smile on my face as she stepped back into the fire.” E closes his eyes and inhales. “I can still smell her burning skin in that cave. The sound of her pathetic screams.” His thumbs itch the side of his fingers, which his dad picks up on.

As E opens his eyes, a devious glint appears. One I haven’t seen in months. One that I have fucking missed, to be honest. It was starting to worry me. How long could he go without hurting? What happens if he can’t keep it contained?

As E goes to reach for his bat, out of habit—he does that sometimes even if it’s not next to him—his hand falls into the air.

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