Page 39 of Beneath the Dirt

Black and gray ink flashes before my eyes as I lift my hand to the radio dial, twisting it so fast, the round knob lifts from the stereo and nearly falls off. “Ahh!” I yell out, and the hand that was just turning off the radio is now curled into a fist. I’d like nothing more than to slam into something other than the leather steering wheel.

I can’t do that, though. The horn will sound, and that will make my presence too obvious.

It’s not that I don’t want Araceli to know I’m here.

Just not yet.

This veil of selective numbness can only stay put for so long before it lifts, needing a certain someone to help me feel something other than hatred and resentment.

The bitterness that has lodged itself in the very fabric of my being has become as potent as the drugs that were flowing through our veins that night. The high might have worn off, but the memory and carnal desire—steeped in a resentment so strong it’s changed me to my very core—hasn’t lessened, but grown stronger. So strong that if I don’t have a taste. A lick. Fucking something,anythingthat gives me a piece of her, I might combust.

I swear, every time I breathe in through my nose, I can still smell the blood that poured like a faucet from her wrists as she rode my half-conscious body, to what I can only assume was an orgasm. I wouldn’t know the specifics of our encounter in the hospital. It’s not like the bitch stayed around to talk to me after she almost tried to kill me, not once, but twice that night. At least the second time she had the fucking dignity to get my dick wet instead of having her cunt smothered by my entire face. Dad was right about her. She’snothing, but a broken and greedy fucking whore who deserves to be punished, except Dad’s idea of punishment aligns with the idea of redemption. Something I don’t believe in. Not anymore.

I turn the ignition off, and the envelope crumpled in my hand makes my decision for me.

I’m here because she finally, all this time later, wants to make amends. In her own half assed shitty way. It’s why she had this note, hand delivered to the house with my name on it. I guess she finally decided that thirteen years is a bit excessive to go without so much as a word or visit to the place she used to call home. Sure, it was broken, but it was our home.Ours.

Whatever happens once I leave this car is because of her.

It’s all her fault.

I lean back and catch my reflection in the rearview. My hair is a fucking mess. I’ve been so preoccupied with it being almost Halloween, and all the not so lovely reminders that come with it, that I can’t remember the last time I ran a comb through it. It’s longer than she’s used to me keeping it. Darker too. Still blonde, but the shade has morphed into a deeper, more earthy hue. Once she gets a look at how the years have made me, the perfect archetype of the nightmares she writes about, she’ll feel even more regret than I know she already does, buried deep in that soulless body of hers.

I break the seal of the envelope, slipping the thick folded stationery out.

Her cursive fills my vision. Overdone and almost illegible. I dive into it, ready for whatever sorry excuse she has for running away from me for this long.

Harlan,

I’ve been thinking about you lately. Actually, that’s a lie. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, but I’ve been too afraid to see you again. Afraid of what would happenif you and I saw each other and what it would mean, since the details of that night were fuzzy at best. But I know that you felt it too. That connection we share. The one that your dad used to punish you for, before I became his new favorite punching bag. I took a lot of his hatred for the both of us. I know it doesn’t make up for what I did when I left, but the hell I went through living in that house should count for something. Or at the very least, make you hate me a little less. Either way, with Halloween being around the corner it brings me back to that night. It makes me miss you. Whether you believe it or not, I do miss you and I’d love to see you again. I know you’re probably still mad at me, but if you find it in your heart to see me again, you know where to find me.

Yours,

Araceli

I crumple the note and toss it on the passenger side floor. Well, she got two things right. I do know where to find her. The house that she inherited from her paternal grandparents that took her in when my dad kicked her out. The second being the ‘yours’ part. She’s right. She’smine. Always has been and always will be.

I head out of her car, careful not to slam the door. I want my presence tonight to be a surprise. Slipping my black hood onto my head, I use the dark night air as my cover as I move from the driveway to the porch.

A creakbetrays the silence I’m trying to maintain beneath my boot, and another follows the next step I take. I pause for a moment, trying to hear any noise on the other side of the sheetrock to see if she heard me.

Nothing but the faint trickle of running water meets my ears. Coming from the other side of the porch that I’m standing on.

Memories of the last time I saw her in the bathtub, before the night at the haunt, fill my mind.

Fuck it.

She wanted me here. She said it herself in her note. Granted, she didn’t know that I was planning on paying her a visit since it’s been long enough before I opened her letter, but this is what she wanted, so I might as well give it to her.

Embracing the symphony of creaks and groans that sound with each step, I continue until I’m standing in front of the open window. A flutter erupts in my chest seeing her.

Fuck.

It’s been so long.

Too fucking long.

Thirteen long and agonizing years.

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