Page 45 of Crybaby

“Thanks.” I quickly reach for it and grab Darcie’s hand to hightail it out of here.

But stop dead in my tracks when Earl says, “Hey. You know what they say?”

My back is turned, and if this motherfucker wants to play ball, then it’s game on because I am not in the mood for fucking guessing games.

But Darcie is. “No, what do they say, Earl?”

I squeeze her hand, subtly shaking my head as we don’t want to antagonize him, for fear he’ll call the cops.

Suddenly, a morphed version of “Don’t Worry Be Happy” fills the office, and I slowly turn over my shoulder to see Earl has pressed the button on the Big Mouth Billy Bass as it opens its mouth to sing to us.

I have no idea how to respond when Earl hums along to the singing fish.

“Don’t worry, be happy now,” he says with a wink while I give him a clenched-teeth smile because, what in the ever-living fuck is going on?

I drag Darcie from the office, who hums along too. I know she’s in shock, and this is her way of coping with whatever the fuck happened. Trauma affects people in different ways—my mom is a perfect example of this.

I can’t get into the room fast enough and slam and lock the door behind us. Darcie casually peers around while I use my finger to part the stained lace curtain to check that Earl isn’t following. We are in the clear—for now.

Sliding the heavy burgundy curtain closed, I turn to look at Darcie, who is still humming under her breath. I don’t know how to broach this, but I need to know what happened. I need to know how to fix it.

To fix her.

“What happened?”

She toes at the ugly vomit-colored carpet, her eyes downcast, humming that fucking song.

“Darcie, talk to me. I’m pretty sure you’ve gone into shock.”

“How do you know, Mr. Smarty Pants?” And she blows a raspberry.

“Don’t fucking do that,” I say, shaking my head. “Talk to me. I need to know what happened.”

Finally, she stops humming and lifts her chin to look at me…and slays me where I stand when I witness the detachment in her eyes.

“You want to know what happenednow?” she questions. “I could have used that concern about an hour ago when—” But a wheeze gets caught in her chest, and she struggles for air.

I rush over to her and gently wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Just breathe.”

She shrugs me off. “Don’t tell me what the body is designed to do! I don’t need direction on a basic human function, fuck you very much.”

I step back and raise my hands in surrender. “I don’t want to fight. I just want to help.”

“Help?” she scoffs, angrily. Good, I want her angry. “There is only one way you can help me.”

“How?”

We stand facing one another in the ultimate standoff because I know the next few seconds will change the course of our lives forever.

“They need to pay for what they did. They need to pay,” she repeats, placing her hands over her ears as she violently shakes her head. “Make it stop.”

“I’ll try, baby. Just tell me how.” The term of endearment just slipped out, but it felt natural.

I gently place my hands over hers and slowly remove them from her ears as I bend low to look into her eyes. I’ve had enough experience with June to know how to deal with someone in this distressed state.

Although Darcie is far stronger than my mom, she is still suffering, and if she doesn’t face her demons, they will fucking eat her alive.

“Who are they?”

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