Page 14 of Bells

Baby steps.

I set to work making the sandwiches, making sure to take my time with Church’s. I slopped Stitches’s peanut butter and jelly together, not giving a damn that jelly was running out the sides in a sticky mess.

Quickly, I took their food back to the living room and gave each their plate and settled in beside Sin, who bit into his sandwich and chewed.

“What a fucking mess,” Stitches grumbled. “How the fuck do you screw up peanut butter and jelly?”

I ignored him as I waited for Church to try his sandwich. He opened his mouth and bit into it and chewed, his expression not changing and his actions remaining just as tense and overpowering as they always were.

“Mine doesn’t have any meat in it,” Ashes said softly.

“Well, if it’s peanut butter and jelly then that’s a good thing,” Stitches muttered. His nose wrinkled as a glob of grape jelly splattered onto his plate.

“I said turkey,” Ashes mumbled. “I, uh, guess it’s a lettuce sandwich. . .”

Church swallowed and put his sandwich back on his plate and pushed it to Ashes. “Here. Have mine.”

I breathed out evenly, feeling a little deflated, but that was fine. It was all fine. It was just Church teasing me, trying to get me to play the game harder that he was playing with me. I could do it. Whatever he wanted.

“This is good. Thanks,” Sin said, reaching out and giving my thigh a squeeze before he went back to his sandwich.

“It’ll get better,” I whispered, catching Church’s eye.

He stared me down for a moment before turning his attention back to Stitches who was licking jelly from his fingers.

It would definitely get better. I’d make sure of it.

CHURCH

Istared out at the lake, my fingers sticky from the blood on my hands. I’d killed a squirrel in the woods on my run and hadn’t bothered to wash its blood off yet. I probably wouldn’t either. There was just something about having the dead’s blood beneath my nails that made me feel. . . alive.

I blamed those fucked up thoughts on my life being what it was. I knew death all too well, and I knew the steps it took to get there.

Whether I wanted it or not, that’s just how my life was. You didn’t grow up as Everett Church’s son and not know how to kill. How to not find joy in it somehow. I was born and raised to have drying blood beneath my fingernails. Nothing was going to change that.

I felt her before I saw her.

Every hair on my neck stood on end.

I imagined people had that reaction whenever I was around too.

Isabella didn’t scare me though. I found her interesting. Not necessarily in a good way. More like in the way a bug on fire will hold your attention as you fry it beneath a magnifying glass on a hot summer’s afternoon.

You knew she was fun to play with but lacked any sort of purpose past the fun.

“Sin isn’t here,” I said, not bothering to turn to look at her.

Her soft footsteps carried over the patio before she stopped beside me.

“Oh,” was all she said as she stared out at the lake.

We were both quiet for a moment before I spoke.

“We both know you’re not looking for him though. What do you need?”

She was quiet for another moment before she spoke. “I thought maybe we could hang out.”

“I don’thang outwith anyone aside from the watchers.” I looked over at her to see her studying me. There was something in her eyes that made me feel strange. I wasn’t sure what that something was though. It wasn’tlike. It was more like pity perhaps.

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