Page 140 of Visions of Darkness

“Sure, it’s no problem.”

“Thank you so much.”

I tried to keep the anxiety at bay as I all but snatched it from her hand, and I rushed into the farthest stall and shut and locked the door behind me. There were only the three of them in there, but at least it was some kind of barrier.

I could barely control the shaking in my hands when I dialed my mother’s number, and there was no stopping my heart from bashing against my ribs as it rang and rang. Four times before she finally answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious. Suspicious and hopeful.

“Mom.” I tried to keep the sob out of it, but I couldn’t.

“Oh my God, Aria.” It was a wheeze. Torment. Relief. “Are you okay? Please tell me that you’re okay.”

“I’m calling to ask you the same thing.”

The sudden silence was sharp. Acid dumped into my ears. Howls of warning. An omen.

“What do you mean?” It was the smallest whisper from her.

“Are you safe?” I whispered back.

“Is that her?” My father’s voice might have been muted in the background, but I could still tell that it sounded different from normal. A new cruelty woven into the fabric.

“Mom, I want you to get Brianna, Mitch, and Keaton and go stay with Grandma for a while,” I rushed, praying she would hear the urgency in my voice.

“Aria,” she begged, trying to turn it back on me, “tell me where you are.”

“Please, Mom. Just ... trust me. Trust me for once.”

“Cal,” she suddenly cried out through a clattering and a bang, and I knew he’d yanked the phone from her hand.

His voice was cold when it traveled the line. “What lies are you spreading now, Aria?”

Sickness boiled, and vomit climbed my throat. “Dad ... you have to fight the voices. Whatever ruthless, horrible thoughts and urges strike you, you have to fight them. It’s not Mom’s fault. It’s not Brianna’s fault. You know that. Deep down, you know that.”

“No, it’s yours.”

“Dad, please.”

“You should get home now, Aria.” His tone was detached.

Vacant.

As if it no longer belonged to him.

“Dad,” I pleaded one more time before the line went dead.

I shoved my fist to my mouth to staunch the cry that threatened to tear free. Horror barreled through my senses as hot tears streaked down my cheeks.

My family.

Oh God, my family.

Sniffling, I swiped the moisture from my face with my sleeve and tried to gather myself. Tried to make sense of what was happening.

The far toilet flushed, and the stall door banged open.

“All done.”

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