Page 45 of Grotesque Love

Did I imagine it being undone last night? But then, how is it neater after a night of tossing and turning in my bed?

My head isn’t hazy, my memories of last night aren’t fuzzy. The fog that has clung to me for the last however many months isn’t present and a repeat of last night plays out in my mind in vivid technicolour detail.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up hesitantly. I stretch out on a quiet exhale, and my body feels loose and relaxed. As I reach out to touch the smooth sheets, a wave of confusion washes over me. These are fresh, no longer torn and tattered by careless claws in the throes of passion.

The room, my nightgown, the sheets…it all suggests that last night didn’t happen. That the monsters were never there.

But Iknowit did.

I can’t explain it, other than to say it’s a feeling in my gut, an instinct, something I can’t ignore.

Were there clues before that I’d ignored? Maybe I’d turned a blind eye, but I can’t go back to pretending.

Ignorance isn’t bliss.

Monsters are real.

And last night, two of them fucked right in front of me, while a third…

My cheeks heat.

I’m a virgin. I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Surely, my brain wouldn’t conjure a vivid, warped fantasy like last night.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves. Maybe it was just a dream after all.

I’m not exactly sane these days, my mind addled by grief and the cocktail of drugs Carver has been pushing on me.

Maybe my dreams were so vivid because I’d chased my way to a release in the garden yesterday, on the back of that giant stone statue. Using a garden ornament to get myself off isn’t exactly normal behaviour.

But as I make my way to the bathroom, splash some water on my face, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. It’s the ribbon on my nightdress. It’s bothering me, like an incessant nagging in the back of my mind. It’s too neatly tied.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, searching for answers in my own eyes. When I find none, I finish washing, brush my teeth, return to my room and dress, ready to face the day.

The large house is eerily silent. The only noise comes from the floorboards creaking as I make my way down to the kitchen.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I lean against the worktop, staring at the fresh vase of wildflowers on the table. The beautiful splash of colour amongst the faded backdrop seems to mock me, their sweet scentfilling the cold kitchen.

Did I make it all up? The flowers in my braid even?

No, I can’t have.

As I pour a cup of tea, I try to make sense of my wild, chaotic dreams. Maybe it was all just a vivid hallucination from waking up in the woods and thinking that something was chasing me, or the stress of everything that’s been going on. Or even a side effect of not taking my medication. But the feeling of their claws and their earthy smell still lingers on me, like a shadow that refuses to dissipate.

I take a sip of my tea, the soothing taste making me relax a little. The jolt of caffeine does its job, helping to clear my foggy brain. I reach over to the toaster, ready to pop some bread in and start my day, but my heart sinks when I notice the counter is already prepared with a plate of bread ready to be toasted, and a jar of jam.

Who else has been here? The groundskeeper hasn’t made a habit of preparing me breakfast, and Carver would never allow me to eat jam. Too much sugar. Besides, if he were back, he would have made his presence known already.

The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine.

As I stand there staring, my heart beats a little faster. The thought of some unseen presence in this house fills me with dread, the groundskeeper’s tales always in the back of my mind. Why would anyone go to such lengths to make sure I had breakfast waiting for me – and a nice one at that? And where did it come from, if not from Carver or Mr Danvers?

I put the bread into the toaster and press the lever down, then I pace around the room until it’s done. Once it pops, I butter the toast and add the strawberry jam before taking a large bite. It tastes heavenly, more so because it’s prohibited.

Today I feel so alive, I’m almost buzzing with energy. It’s the best I’ve felt since coming here, I’m sure of it. I imagine I could make it all the way to the beach today if I wanted to. But something stops me.

It’s them.

The monsters. Or gargoyle and grotesques should I say. I want to see if I can find them. One should be in the garden, right? The same place it was yesterday.Obviously, Ari, statues can’t move.But I need to know the truth, to know I’m not going crazy. I need to find them.

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