Page 89 of Behind the Shadows
The road cut through the woods like a scar, black and winding, hemmed in by silence.
Dog sprawled across the backseat, tongue out, content after pacing the halls of hell. Holland sat next to me, her knees pulled up to her chest, her expression unreadable in the glow of the dash.
I hadn’t said a word since we’d left. I didn't trust my voice not to crack. I didn't trust myself not to scream. Not after what that fucking bitch told me. Not after that.
My phone sat in the cup holder, and it blinked with movement.
Holland shifted. “Is that her?” she asked, nodding to my cell.
I nodded at the screen and watched Mother struggle to breathe, alone.
“Yeah. She’s still reaching for the mask,” I muttered.
“Good.” She glanced away, and I hit the button and put it on sleep mode. That was enough. “What did she say to you before we left? You’re clearly in your head about something. What happened?”
I gripped the wheel tighter. My knuckles burned. “You sure you want to know?”
She looked at me—not scared, not soft. Just ready.
I swallowed over the tightness in my throat. “She said my uncle’s still alive.”
Holland blinked, confusion creasing her brow. “But… I thought?—”
“I thought he was dead too.” My fists clenched. “Hell, I fucking buried him myself. Closed the casket. Said the words. Lowered the fucking box.”
Silence pulsed between us. Then I added, “I never told anyone this before, but a few months ago … I dug up his grave.”
Her eyes snapped to me. “What?”
“Yeah.” I smirked. “It was the middle of the night. I was in a bad place. Hallucinating. Dreaming about blood and chains and him whispering in my ear. I kept seeing his face, hearing his voice in my mind, and I couldn’t make it stop. So I went to the grave.”
“What did you find?” Holland asked in a whisper.
I flicked my blinker, took a sharp turn toward the main road, the tires crunching the gravel. “Nothing. The coffin was empty. Only a damn locket sitting inside.” I glanced at her. “Yours.”
She gasped. “Mine?”
I nodded. “The one you had when you were a kid. I didn’t understand it. I figured I’d stolen it when I was drugged. Or maybe Mother or Vinny put it there, fucking with my head as usual. One more twist of the knife.”
“But Kip…” Her hand found mine on the gearshift. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t trust myself.” I let out a jagged laugh. “I thought I’d imagined it. That I’d hallucinated the whole damn thing. I’d been seeing ghosts for years. Why not one more?”
She didn’t speak. Just looked at me, her fingers tightening on mine.
“But now,” I said, “now I know I didn’t imagine shit.”
Her silence was permission, and I pulled over to the side of the road.
The forest breathed around us. Dog yawned as he sat up, his ears alert.
I reached into the glove box, removed a small velvet pouch, and opened it.
Turning it upside down, I dropped the locket into Holland’s outstretched hand.
She stared at it. Her forehead pinched.
“I lost this,” she said softly. “The night Ally and I were taken. It was ripped off my neck when they grabbed me.”
