Page 77 of Stoker's Serenity

He took a step forward, I took a hurried step back, and his face contorted into a sort of agony.

“Kyle, don’t,” I begged, but it was too late, he pressed the barrel of the shotgun under his chin.

“Kyle, don’t!” I screamed and BOOM!

Oh, my God, his face! His face vaporized into near-nothing, his body falling as I fell to my own knees, screaming, screaming over and over, wordless, panicked, soulless as everything I was was hollowed out of my center, splashed across the linoleum floor along with Caroline and Kyle’s blood which seeped into the holey knees of my jeans as I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to hold myself together.

24

Stoker…

Boom!

“What the fuck?” My head jerked up from the table we were sitting at and I exchanged a look with Nox and Rush.

Boom!

“Fuck,” I swore. “Serenity, where’s Serenity!” I cried.

Hope called out, “I saw her head towards the kitchen.”

“Somebody get those assholes to stop!” Rush bellowed, and I practically vaulted the picnic table and crossed the stone patio in two long strides, my feet barely touching the ground. I batted the screen door aside and flung myself into the downstairs of the lodge, going for the stairs.

“Kitchen!” I screamed, and one of the staff busboy and kitchen-prep guys pointed, his eyes wide.

I got into the kitchen to a goddamned mess. Contessa, the woman who ran the place, was sitting on the floor, holding onto Serenity who was terrified, her eyes wide, her face slack and stunned as her dark eyes saw what wasn’t here.

“Shit,”I muttered, and got down on the floor in the midst of broken plastic bowl and potato salad, snapping my fingers in front of her eyes.

“Orchid?” I asked, and she didn’t even fucking blink.

She just said in a dreamy, disconnected voice, “Kyle?”

She struggled in Contessa’s grasp, but Contessa had a good hold of her as she said with urgency, “Kyle, don’t!” and a second later, more forcefully, “Kyle, don’t!” and then all hell broke loose.

She collapsed on herself, screaming, and it was as if someone had reached into her chest and she’d had her heart ripped out. I’d never heard anything like it before, and I never wanted to hear anything like it again. Contessa struggled with her as Serenity thrashed and thrashed against the floor, kicking her legs out, sliding in the spilled food, the smell of mustard sharp as I reached for her and ordered Contessa over Serenity’s shrieking, “Give her to me!”

Contessa let her go and Serenity flopped but not before I grabbed her wrists and pulled her tight against my chest, slipping in the potato salad, going down hard on my ass, pulling her between my legs, wrapping my whole body around her as she screamed and screamed, her heart breaking in real time from something that’d happened ten years ago.

Flashback, this had to be a flashback, and rescue came in the form of Doc, the SHMC’s on-call physician with his old-school medical bag, thrusting his way through kitchen staff onlookers and ol’ ladies that’d been helping with the dinner cleanup.

“Hold her good, now!” he yelled over her screams and brought out a needle and a vial.

“What is that?” I demanded.

“Benzos,” he replied, drawing up a dose. “Put her right out for some hours, keep her from hurting herself.”

He raised her skirt and shot her right in the butt with it and she almost immediately calmed.

“S’okay, baby. I got you, baby,” I murmured into her hair and she whimpered ineffectually.

“Come on now, let’s get you both up,” he said.

The silence in the kitchen aside from our labored breathing was so bizarrely loud. I don’t know, it was the only way to describe it. We got Serenity up between us and over to a spot it was easy for me to pick her up.

“I’ll come help,” Faith murmured and she looked heartbroken for my woman, which made sense. I knew what it was the instant I’d seen my little orchid thrashing on the ground. I’d seen it before, knew what it was, thanks to Faith. She had her own set of triggers and had gone into a flashback of her own at one of our beach parties at something a tourist had said to her. Some kind of phrase he just happened to utter the right – or wrong – way had set her off.

“Thanks, Doc,” I said, and he shook his head.

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