Page 3 of Rot

Aunt Maggie turned to look at me. “I’m sure Elias will like having someone else around. He gets lonely in this house, especially when I’m at work for days on end. Dinner’s about ready. Why don’t you go upstairs and introduce yourself to your cousin? Tell him that dinner’s done. Your mother will help me set the placemats.” Something flashed in her expression, something quick flitting across her features, but whatever it was, it was gone in seconds, replaced by a warm smile.

I didn’t want to go upstairs. I definitely didn’t want to introduce myself to a cousin I’d never met before, someone I didn’t even know existed until recently, but with one glance at my mother, I knew I had to. My mother nodded shortly, though she sent me a pleading look, as if begging me to behave once again.

I’d behave. I could be good… for a while, at least. Until I got bored. Then I made absolutely no promises. After all, what was life if you weren’t having fun?

I turned away from my mother and my aunt, stepping out of the kitchen and into the hall where the stairs were. Turning to go up them, I took the railing in my right hand and walked up, eyes on the wall beside me, on all the pictures hanging there. All shapes and sizes of frames, photos detailing a life, a family, a love I’d never had.

Pictures of Aunt Maggie and Uncle Dave on their wedding day. Old school photos of who must be Elias, his black hair dorkily slicked back, missing teeth.

The further up the stairs I got, the more recent the pictures became. No more photos of Uncle Dave—he was dead now, after all. I wasn’t sure what happened; I’d ask eventually. My curiosity would get the better of me, as it usually did, especially when death was involved.

As I walked up, I noticed the pictures of Elias changed. Whereas he used to smile genuinely when he was a young kid, the older ones were full of glares and frowns, even when Aunt Maggie was beside him, grinning ear to ear. Maybe he’d taken his father’s death hard. I supposed some people let death change them.

Me? I was born because of death, because of the rot. I didn’t view death and everything it brought with it like most normal people.

My feet took me to the top of the stairs, and I stared down a short hall. I passed a bathroom immediately on my left. It looked like there were three other rooms up here; one was Aunt Maggie’s room, while another—the one with the door closed and the light currently on—must be Elias’s room. That left the third room as a guest room, maybe?

I really hoped I didn’t have to share a room with my mother. I think I’d rather die. That woman… she’d never been around, so it was hard for me to look at her and see a motherly figure, even harder for me to love her.

But then, it was hard for me to love anyone.

I walked to the closed door, listening for movement inside. I didn’t hear anything, so I decided to just go in. My hand curled around the doorknob, and I pushed inside, taking two steps into the room before stopping.

The room was messy. Cluttered with dirty clothes, schoolbooks scattered near an old desk on the far side of the room, near the window. A small bench press sat in the corner opposite the closet, and a twin bed sat along the hallway wall… where someone was, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

Elias, I presumed.

He had his legs outstretched, wearing gray sweatpants, his feet bare of socks. His top half leaned against the headboard of his bed, one arm behind his head to further prop it up. He wore a black t-shirt, but with his arm bent like that, I could see he was pretty well-toned for an eighteen-year-old.

He looked up from his phone the moment I walked in, narrowing his stare at me in what looked to be disgust. Black eyes a shade darker than his hair, which, unlike all the school portraits along the stairwell, hung loose, some of its length hanging down over his forehead. His square jaw was clean-shaven, allowing me to see the tightening of that jaw as he glared at me.

He looked at me like he hated me, and maybe he did. Maybe he wasn’t so thrilled with having more people in this house. Maybe he’d gotten used to having the place to himself while his mother was away at work for whatever crazy shifts the hospital made her take. I supposed, if I was in his position, I’d hate me, too.

I didn’t introduce myself. He knew who I was; his mother must’ve told him to expect us today. So, all I said was, “Dinner’s about done.” And then I turned on my heels and walked out of his room, not saying a thing more.

I’d seen all I needed to when it came to him. We didn’t have to be friends. We might be estranged family, but that didn’t mean anything, really. He could go right on ahead and keep hating me; I didn’t care. Unlike my grandparents, I never cared if people thought bad things about me or gossiped about me behind my back. I didn’t give a shit about reputations or anything like that.

Returning to the kitchen, I found my mom pouring drinks for everyone, some kind of dark pop. The table had been set, and Aunt Maggie was in the process of bringing over all the dishes. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a home-cooked meal like this.

When Aunt Maggie looked at me, I said, “I told him. He’s coming.” It was not exactly a lie; I did tell him. I just didn’t know how soon Elias would jump up and come down here. I took the closest seat at the table, the one nearest the wall.

My mother was slow to take the seat on my right, and once everything was on the table, Aunt Maggie sat across from her, saying, “Now, don’t get used to this. I really don’t have the time to cook that often. Hate to say it, but usually I just leave some cash on the fridge for takeout on the nights when I’m at work.” She seemed to remember that my mother was capable of cooking, theoretically, because she added hastily, “But feel free to use the kitchen whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” my mother said, hands on her lap. She didn’t even glance in my direction; half the time, I was pretty sure she tried to pretend I didn’t exist. “I really appreciate this, Maggie. I know you didn’t have to open your home to us.”

“Oh, nonsense. It’s the least I could do.” Maggie glanced down at her empty plate. “It really is the least I could do. I can’t imagine how terrible mom is now. I remember how she used to be with dad around, and he tried his best to keep her in check. She’s not a very kind and loving person.” My aunt glanced at me, as if worried my bitterly cold grandmother had scarred me for life.

My mother gave Aunt Maggie a tight smile. “She definitely hasn’t gotten any better.” She let out a nervous chuckle.

All I could do was stare at her, wondering why she was acting so weird.

“I’m glad you called. I’m really happy you’re here. I… I’m sorry I never reached out all these years. I’m not proud of running away and leaving you with them.” My aunt stopped, probably knowing it was a good thing not to bring up the fact that my mother had been raped by a serial killer after watching one of her best friends die. Shit like that tended to leave everlasting marks on your soul.

My mother tried to shrug it off, and I watched her. She didn’t have the rot in her, but the rot had touched her. The Bedlam Butcher had been that rot. If evil was an inherited trait, I was fucked every which way. I think it’s what my mother worried about the most.

When the table became silent, Aunt Maggie sighed and shook her head. “Where is that boy? I told him to be on his best behavior, but—”

“We don’t mind,” my mother was quick to say. She glanced at me, as if wanting me to say something similar, but I stayed quiet. I didn’t care if Elias came down or not.

---