Page 6 of Deliver us from Evil

Shit, I’m going to miss that forest.

But I have to get going. When I move, keys jingle inside my pocket.

Did Trin find the envelope? I didn’t want to put it in her room in case Jasper found it before she did. Now I’m worried she didn’t come up here again after I cleaned out the place. Or, if she did, that she didn’t check the drawer. Shit. Maybe I should have left it out in the open.

Trin didn’t mention anything about finding the photo, and I have a feeling she would have. Maybe give me a knowing look or something. A kind of a thank you.

The photo means a lot to her. I wish I knew why.

I’ve stared at it so many times over the years, I have it memorized. Especially Gabriel’s face. He was young back then. He looks so innocent in that photo, if a bit of a prick. Guess that’s no surprise. Maybe that’s how she’d prefer to remember her father. Innocent.

I saunter over, glancing at the view as I try to drink in every leaf on every tree.

I unlock the door and push. It swings open, then gets stuck like there’s something in the way.

The hell?

I push against it, shove a little harder. There’s a groan.

My eyes go wide, lungs tight and hot and bursting.

I squeeze in through the gap and stare down at Trinity. It takes me way too long to process what I’m seeing because there’s blood down there and blood makes me feel like gravity has stopped working.

I grab onto the thin edge of the metal desk behind me, holding on, trying to stay rooted to the floor so I won’t float away.

Her eyes are open, but she looks out of it. Concussed maybe. I’ve seen it plenty of times. Ghosts playing too hard with their toys. Sometimes they break them and those toys don’t always heal.

“Trin.” My voice comes from far away.

Shit, man. Keep it together. She needs you!

But there’s blood pooling on the floor by her head. More on her legs. She’s still wearing the white dress, and her skin is so pale. The red looks neon against all that white.

Focus on her eyes, man. Look ather.Helpher.

I push away from the desk. Start rambling. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here. Trin. Trin! Can you hear me? I’m here, pretty thing.”

She groans again, her eyes fluttering closed. I get closer. See all that blood is actually her dark hair. Only a little blood. A small splash. Almost less than the streaks on her thighs.

We did that.

No. Can’t be. I saw blood yesterday, but not that much. Not enough to make me float away.

I touch her shoulder, scoop a hand under her head. Help her sit up.

Got to be careful with a possible head trauma. So,socareful.

“Hey, you there?” I ask. “Can you hear me, Trin?”

Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Is that good or bad?

“I’m here, pretty thing. You’re safe now. Everything’s fine.”

Best thing ever—someone telling you shit’s fine. Even when it’s not, it doesn’t matter. Because you give them hope, right? Would have been like those other kids if we didn’t have hope. The ones that came to the basement to die.

“’Ming,” I think she says.

“Shh. Don’t speak, okay?” I can carry her, but not down all those stairs. Not without jarring her. And that can’t be good.

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