Page 68 of Fangs
“The fuck—” Lee started.
“What’s wrong?” Mac demanded at the same time.
I stopped abruptly, but the sugary smell started building around me again, and I couldn’tbreathe.
“What’s wrong?” Mac was suddenly at my side, gently taking my elbow.
Lee hovered behind him, scanning me carefully.
“The soap,” I managed to choke out, fighting my lungs for breath.
“The soap?” Lee repeated, confused.
Mac looked at my hair, the suds that were sliding down my neck, and then his nostrils flared. “Oh fuck.”
The room spun, and Mac’s hand tightened on my elbow. I couldn’t tell if I was shivering or shaking.
“Ok, you still have it in your hair,” he said. “If you rinse it out, I bet you won’t smell it anymore.”
My spine stiffened at the thought of returning to the bathroom, where the smell was so potent. I sucked in a desperate breath through my nose, trying to quell the nausea, but it just made me inhale more of the scent coming from my hair.
“I can’t—” I tried to gasp.
“You want me to fill up that bucket?” Lee asked.
“And do what?” Mac asked sharply.
“She could rinse her hair out here.”
I sucked in another desperate breath through my nose.
“Ok, yeah,” Mac finally said.
He led me to the woodstove, and Lee grabbed the bucket while I tried to get ahold of myself.
“It’s ok, Em,” Mac said in that gentle voice, and my fucking eyes overflowed.
He wrapped his arms around me, not seeming to mind I was getting soap suds all over his shirt. I clung to my towel and leaned into him, hating that I was falling apart for what felt like the hundredth time. Lee reappeared quickly, setting a bucket of water on the floor before the wood stove. He handed Mac a chipped mug.
“Here,” he said quietly, “I’ll wait outside.”
“You wanna sit in front of the woodstove and lean over this bucket, and I’ll rinse your hair?” Mac asked as Lee left.
I nodded, slowly lowering myself to the floor on my knees, still trying to breathe as shallowly as possible. He crouched next to me, scooped a mugful of water up, and carefully poured it over my hair.
She’s not here. She’s not here.
“She’s not here,” Mac murmured. “She’s gone.”
I meant to say something like, “I know” or “You’re right,” but the alcohol must have loosened my tongue because what came out was, “She’ll never begone.”
He poured another couple of mugfuls of water over my hair before he said, “She haunts me, too. I have to bury her again every day, and maybe one of these days, she’ll fuckin’ stay there.”
“What if she doesn’t?” I whispered miserably.
“Then I’ll try to live with it, knowin’ I’m one of the last people she’ll ever haunt.”
I watched the flames dancing in the wood stove. It didn’t seem fair that the monsters I’d killed continued to haunt me, but the one person I desperately wished would stay with me seemed to be gone.
