Page 9 of Homecoming: The Devil's Society

With squinted eyes, he drives us up his long drive, across the private road, and down his dad’s driveway.

Like Elijah’s, trees surround the home, privacy is very important to this family, so I am learning. The home is immaculate. Two-story log home with accents of rock. Easily double the size of E’s place. It even has two front entrances on either side. A large fountain is in the middle, which we circle as E parks to the closer of the two front doors. Putting it in park, then switching the golf cart off, he grabs his bat and gets out. My hand breaks contact and is already missing his warmth.

Getting out, I silently follow his lead.

I always promised I would follow him without question in this area, and it is a promise I intend to keep, even if my soul is screaming from watching him suffer.

With his hood covering his head, short pieces of his dark hair stick out.

He is gorgeous.

“I know you’re checking me out.” Turning his head to me, he winks before carrying on forward. It’s the first bit of joy I have seen from him in days.

A piece of him is still inside this shell of a man, trying to show me it’s okay.

Instead of going inside, he starts to walk around the house—it’s a compound, really. This property is insane and slightly overwhelming.

Cameras can be seen around the home and hiding in the trees as I take everything in. Steel shutters cover the second-story windows, which is unique. Iron fencing appears, not just posts but entire solid pieces. E puts his thumb up against one part and the buzzing of the gate begins before clicking open. Pushing the gate open, he exposes the backyard, which is surrounded by dense forest. Walking up the side of the house, I continue to follow as my curious eyes take everything in.

A beautiful view of the mountains keeps my attention, some peaks are already decorated in white snow.

Without noticing, Elijah has stopped and the side of my face meets the soft fabric of his hoodie. My feet briefly try to lose their balance by stumbling backward, which I try to prevent by gripping onto the back of him. Helping, he leans forward slightly.

A hiss leaves his mouth, my face scrunches in confusion.Did I hurt him?

“Are you okay?”

He doesn’t respond with words, only a nod of his head.

As I let go of his hoodie, I find his free hand and interlace my fingers with his. Looking up at him, his teeth are biting on his lip ring, playing with it absentmindedly.

Anxiety.

Hesitantly, I ask, “How can I help?” I hate feeling helpless with him. He does so much for me, protects and takes care of me. I need to help him in his time of need now.

“You can’t.”

He is short in his response. Nothing taken personally, I can only imagine how it must feel being in his head rightnow. Battling the demons and holding them off, it must be exhausting.

At the same time, I didn’t realize until now, how much not killing would hurt him. He has been accustomed to acting on his urges since he was a child. What was I thinking? Of course he would get an itch, which he hasn’t scratched in months.

As we step farther into the large backyard, there is an old building, possibly the shed I heard him reference yesterday with his dad. But I can’t be sure. He will tell me once he is ready.

E squeezes my hand, and the corner of my lip rises.

He is still in there.

Leading us closer to the tree line, I continue to look around. The backyard is pretty bare with the exception of the large patio at the back of the house, which is a giant outdoor living space, and the shed.

As we stop on the lawn, standing side by side before the forest of trees, I look deep within. It doesn’t look as full as they would in North Carolina. Leaves fallen, branches bare with multiple tones of brown are before me. Some green spruce trees are in the mix, giving us that pop of color that I am so familiar with.

A breeze blows past, making the tip of my nose cold and starting to run as I sniffle it back.

“This is a graveyard.” As he speaks, his arm lifts, pointing to the woods with his bat.

My eyes squint, I don’t see any headstones.

“More bodies are buried here than you can even fucking imagine. Whatever number you are thinking, at least double it. Triple it, even. The graves are generations old.”

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