Page 27 of Claiming Sarah

“I’m fine, baby. Have you heard from Zaine? I was just checking if he’s had any strange visitors. I got this feeling of being followed last week.” I swallow the lump in my throat, hand pressed to my forehead. Dayton was the presence stalking me, inciting my night terrors.

“No, not that we heard of. Right, Xavier?” He mumbles something in the background, and I resist rolling my eyes. No amount of time will dull my rage at him for stealing my baby.

“Nope. Did you call the police or ask Auntie Nat to sleep over?” Lauren asks. Wind whooshes across the line. I can only assume they’re still driving, taking back roads to their destination.

“Nat was here for a little while last week,” I admit, nibbling my lip. I’m out of options. I’ve no idea where he went, and fresh pain blooms beneath my ribs.

“Be safe. I love you. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, quickly ending the call and slumping into my bed. Tears stream down my face. Once more, I bury my face in my hands, letting the sobs leave me. He left. God, I can’t even maintain a relationship with a damn kidnapper.

Self-deprecation sinks its claws into me. I try to shake it off, wiping at my cheek with unsteady hands. This isn’t me. I let him get in my head, manipulate me, falling for the poor mental patient act. I should know better. Air wheezes in and out of my lungs rapidly, tingling traveling up from my fingers.

I rush to my dresser, snatching open the drawer where I keep spare bottles of Ativan. Fumbling with the first bottle I grab—pop.

“Fuck!” I scream, sinking to my knees, crying as I pick up fallen pills. The tears won’t stop. Fucking Lasher. They’re nothing but trouble. My back thuds against my dresser, knees tucked into my chest.

I wrap my arms around my tucked legs, laying my face on the top of my knees. Shaking my head, I can’t stop berating myself for my moments of weakness. The only thing I can ask myself, sitting naked in my lonely bedroom, discarded pills winking at me, is what now?

ZAIDEN

Ghosts haunt Daniels’ Manor, my ancestors strolling across the overgrown lawn. Gravel crunches beneath the tires of my pickup truck, a truck passed from my grandfather to my mother to me. It wheezes upon every startup but faithfully transports me to where I need to go.

I park the relic where it belongs, directly in front of the decrepit door of my childhood home, vines crawling over the chipped wood. In. Out. I force myself to breathe, to not trust anything my eyes see. Already, I ache for Sarah, for her calm reassurance and gentle understanding. She may not know the chaos of my mind, but she knows how to navigate it—to lead me back to the light.

Stiff limbs push the truck driver’s door open, stepping down with dread, eyes focused on my boots, rustling coming closer. I slam the door shut, marching through the overgrown weeds to the front door, echoes sounding loudas gunshots. Quick feet race all around me, but I ignore them.

Voices clamor for space in my head. I race through the manor, a gossamer gown clinging to my body. Zaiden sleeps upstairs, but I’ll make the world safer for him. I’ll burn this place down, ripping this evil from the world. The devil whispers to me in my sleep, and I hear him talking to Zaiden. I must protect my child, hands wrapping around a red gallon of gasoline. It’s the only way.

The front door creaks open, wood shifts beneath my weight, and I march toward the kitchen. A gallon of gasoline rests underneath a cabinet. Screams roll through the manor, many voices lifting into one. Either the house or the voices know what I’m attempting, nearly bringing me to my knees.

Zaiden! I internally scream, clamping my hands over my ears. Screams resound through the house, bouncing off the walls. The house, the voices dislike my actions, urging me to switch paths. But my dark-haired child with shadows in his eyes needs me. He needs me to slay the demons around us. I will do it for him. My mouth opens, an echoing scream ripping free, taunting the madness swimming in my head. It will have to kill me before I abandon my mission, abandon Zaiden.

My beacon, my anchor, the safe harbor I strive to reach, flashes in my mind, cheeks lifted and eyes squinted into a brilliant smile. I will find my way back. Devils be damned.

I scream back at the house, hands tearing at my hair, chest hollowing out. This is my home! I lived here, a part of me died here, and my sanity was ripped from me here. Daniels’ Manor will not claim me as its victim. It will bow beneath me, or I will rip it limb from limb like any animal I’d ever caught.

Tears drip down my cheeks, hands shaking liquid free from the nozzle of the bottle I hold with both hands. An acrid stench tickles my nose, but I continue my work, heart aching to hold Zaiden inmy arms. One more pass through the house then I can hold him, kissing his forehead and promising him the world is a safe place. I will make it so. Trust me, my dear child.

My hands close around a red gallon, déjà vu settling beneath my skin, a mocking presence tempting my brain to stop and turn back. Danger lurks here. I am the last of the Daniels, a mad bloodline’s walking death, but Sarah’s voice in my ear, asking me about my mother, Morgan, pushes back against the devil.

I am hers.

I will end this for her or die in the process. Either way, I’ve found my angel and will wait for her forever if I need to.

Once I douse the first floor, spilling extra in the kitchen, I gird myself for the trip into the basement. My boots stomp through the debris, carving a path to the door leading to my mother’s tomb. It swings open easily, darkness staring at me below the set of stairs. My boots thump down them, the noise in my head picking up and growing in volume with each step.

A small pull on a flimsy bit of string chases the shadows away, light flooding the room. My mother rests in a glass enclosure, eyes forever closed, dark hair trailing to her hips, and a white dress—one of her favorites—adorns her stiff corpse. My hand lands on the glass, tears stinging my eyes.

“Goodbye, Mom. I’ve found someone,” I confess, lips twitching into a smile. “I think you’d like her. She’s a doctor. A nurse doctor. She understands my mind on some level. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.” I lean down, placing a watery kiss on the glass, tears dripping down my cheeks.

How do people do this and just move on, letting go?My heart aches, a giant pain I have trouble breathing around, knowing I must finish what she started. After tonight, I’m never setting foot back in Daniels’ Manor, burning mymother’s body, pieces of Sarah’s coworkers, and the rest of the decrepit building to the ground.

“You’re really doing this?”Red growls behind me. I don’t turn, feeling rage waft off of him.

“It needs doing,” I grit out, closing my eyes, wishing the voices away.

He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real.

“Enjoy her,”Blue says, boots crunching closer.“But when she discards you, we’ll always be here,”he promises, hand landing on my shoulder. I look at him, at his hand tapping against his skull. Blue commanded my mouth in the institute, charming the nurses and helping me pretend to be normal. He’s the version of myself I wish I could be all the time, a mask I don to hide my insanity.

---