Better Left Buried (8 page)

She
smells dirty water and mold, hears a struggle.

“Daddy?”
The man she left wiping down his new car with a cloth diaper is missing. She returns to the stairs, drawn by the noise. “Mommy? Daddy?”

A
gust of wind threatens to suck her in and she screams. She loses her balance and grabs the jamb, white-knuckling the wood until the breeze passes.

She flips the light switch
. A single bulb casts the cinder block room in shadows.

“Daddy?
Where are you?”

She hears the t
hud-thud of sneakers in a dryer, the sound of feet shuffling through water.

“Mommy, are you down there?”

“Down here, baby girl.” Something’s wrong with her mother’s voice. “Come downstairs.”

She knows better. The basement is off limits.

Harmony screamed and woke up
, sweaty and nervous.

“Adam?” She threw the blanket on the floor and jumped up from the s
ofa. The television was the only light in the otherwise dark apartment. “Adam, please answer me.” She squinted to read the microwave clock, confirming what, deep down, she already knew.
It was 2:34 in the morning.
She counted down the seconds in slow Mississippis, expecting the time to change, and panicked when, at seventy-five, it still hadn’t.

The TV shut off
first, then the microwave, and finally the night light in the kitchen.

Her hands shook as she searched the junk drawer for a flashlight.

“It’s just a power outage. Pull it together.”

A
cold breeze travelled up her arm and surrounded her body like an anti-blanket that caused her to shiver.

The vertical blinds
fluttered as if blown by some invisible fan and the dark, shadowy figure of a man stood in the corner.

Her mind went immediately to the man from the alley.

“How did you find me? Get out of here. Get out of my house.” She pulled the pointed chef’s knife from the butcher block. “I mean it. I’ll kill you if I have to.” If it was her or him this time, she’d do what needed to be done. “I’m warning you.” She flipped the switch, but the light wouldn’t come on. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. She hoped the man couldn’t see her terror. “I’m going to call the police.”

Still, he stood there, wavering in and out of focus.

She grabbed her cell phone. The indicator light told of a message.

“I mean it. I’m calling.”

She dialed 9 and the phone flew out of her hand, smashing against the cabinet before hitting the kitchen floor.

The dark figure exploded into fractals that reached for her and spun around her like a tornado.
She collapsed to her knees, breathless.

Napkins rained down from the counters and a coffee cup shattered on the floor. A shard of ceramic nicked her cheek
. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearful of more. The chill in the air magnified tenfold, plunging her into a painful cold like being submerged in an ice bath. She was frozen and unable to fight back.

“Help me
,” she whispered as her throat closed. Something was holding her down, choking her. Whatever had been standing in that corner wasn’t a man.

Ten men couldn’t have so fully restrained her.

Still, she wouldn’t stop fighting.

“Help me,” the man
said, his voice a gravelly whisper. “
Help me
.” Was he mocking her? Was she going crazy?
“Help
me
.”

“I’ll help,” she said,
gasping. “Just let me go, please. I’ll help you.”

The front door opened
and the light turned on. Harmony’s eyes struggled to adjust, her mind unable to comprehend what just happened. Whatever had been holding her disappeared as quickly as it came, burning its pain into her soul.

“Harmony, stop!”
Adam wrestled the knife from her hand. His panic-stricken tone and the hurt in his eyes said something had happened, something she hadn’t realized. He bordered on hysterical as he gathered up every towel in the kitchen. “Why … why would you do this to me again?”

She looked down at her arms and fainted.

“Harmony, what happened?” Adam changed the towel on her forearm, adding the dirty one to the pile.

She shifted on the couch and the room resumed spinning. The moments up to Adam coming home were a blur. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” The rough cotton scratched at her skin
. She pushed his hands away. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? What if I hadn’t come home?”

What if?

Part of her wished he hadn’t. The escalated attack had her terrified of what came next.

“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “The last thing I remember, I was trying to sleep but I was really stressed out and you weren’t here and I kept thinking someone was watching me. You can’t blame me after what happened. I mean, I was attacked. I kept hearing things and all I could think of was that guy in the alley. I took a couple of sleeping pills—”

“A couple?
It’s supposed to be
one
.”

Truthfully, she hadn’t taken any, but the excuse seemed the only one that would make her behavior plausible. “I know. I just thought
… I don’t know. I didn’t think one would work. I don’t know how I got cut. I must’ve been sleepwalking or something.”

“Sleep-induced suicide attempt?
You really expect me to believe that?”

“You really think if I were trying to kill myself I wouldn’t do a better job?”

He shook his head, but she could see he got her point.

“We need to get this clean so I can take a better look at it.”

The towels mottled the blood on her arm, making a grim mosaic that was hard to see through.

“Help me to the sink.” She fe
lt faint. The last thing she needed was to pass out.

Adam helped her up slowly, holding his arms out to catch her in case she fell. “
Can you walk?”

She blinked to clear the fog from her vision and waited until she felt steady enough to
move. “I think so.”

Without pressure, blood welled up from the cuts.

Adam turned on the faucet and rolled her sleeve up as far as it would go past her elbow. The lumpy cuff held her arm at an unnatural angle.

She put her forearm under the slow trickle of water and rubbed gently to wash off the blood. The cuts were slightly deeper than superficial—enough to have bled, but not deep enough to need stitches. The worst of them overlaid her suicide scar exactly.

“Get the glue,” she said, holding the sink’s edge for balance.

A piece of broken coffee cup crushed under Adam’s boot as he walked across to the counter. He picked up the largest pieces and threw them in the trash. “Be careful where you step. There’s broken coffee cup all over the place, and it looks like the microwave clock finally died.”

She looked over her shoulder at the clock frozen at 2:34 AM. “It was the power outage. I think that must’ve been when I dropped the mug.” Details she couldn’t make sense of, things she wouldn’t admit to, came back to her piecemeal.

“What power outage?” He unscrewed the
top off the tube and patted her arm dry, closing the cuts one by one.

“Right before you came home. The TV went off, then the light—”

“I don’t think so. Everyone else’s lights were on when I pulled in and besides, everything would’ve gone off at the same time, not in sequence.”

“No, I’m sure of it. I came out in the kitchen to get a flashlight, which is when I dropped the mug.”

“I thought you were sleeping?”

“I was—I mean, I think I was.” The more she tried to explain things, the less they made sense.

“And if the power went out, the clock would’ve reset.” He unplugged the microwave, counted to thirty, and plugged it back in, hitting the side when the clock didn’t immediately light up. “See,” the clock flashed 12:00, “like that.”

“Then I must’ve been sleeping, right?” Harmony blew on her arm and patted the shiny streaks to see that they were dry. Her skin felt tight, but the glue helped with the pain. “Things just aren’t adding up the way I remember them.” She took a couple of aspirins and wrapped a roll of white gauze around her forearm to keep the glue from cracking.

“If that’s true, we have a new wrinkle.” He swept the kitchen floor, his gaze distant.

Whether it was paranoia or not, she imagined he was thinking about taking her back to Spring View.

“It’ll be fine. I won’t take the pills again. I shouldn’t have taken them in the first place.” She knelt to hold the dust pan. “It was an accident.” She set her hand on his thigh.

“An accident, huh?”
He dumped the crumbs and rinsed off the knife. “I’ll be right back.” He tucked the butcher block under his arm.

“Where are you going?”

He picked up his car keys. “To make sure there aren’t any more
accidents
.”

Adam pulled into the high school’s senior lot and parked in a space marked “Visitor”.

“What, you don’t feel like braving the bus loop today?” Harmony was doing her best to keep things light.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do what? Go to school? Not really, but I don’t have a whole lot of options. I’m three absences away from not graduating, four tops. I’ll be fine.”
She leaned across the seat and kissed him. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be with Brea and I have my phone so I can call if I need you. I know you’ll be right here.”

“Always,” he said, tracing
his hand along her fingers. “I’ll pick you up at 2:00.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Harmony opened the truck door,
noticing the gossip seemed louder than usual.

“Seriously, Jaxon’s lost his mind.”

“I know, right? I mean, Brea Miller. What a freak.”

“What’s wrong?” Adam said.

“Nothing. I’ll see you at two.” She hopped down and headed across the lot.

“I love you,” Adam
shouted through the partially open window.

It was something she
had never said. To anyone. She lifted her backpack strap onto her shoulder and pretended not to hear him.

The main entrance came into view and she saw what all
the fuss was about.

“What the hell?”

Jaxon stood outside the vestibule next to Brea, holding her books. He laughed and talked as casually as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Brea looked like she was about to be sick. She cast back and forth glances across the parking lot and jumped when Harmony called her name.

The color drained from Brea’s
face as she took her books from Jaxon and said, “You have to go.”

Harmony was great at reading lips.

Jaxon looked unthrilled, but was out of sight by the time she got to where he’d been standing.

“What was that all about?”

Brea shook her head. “Nothing. He’s part of some stupid church group thing my mother makes me go to.”

“Really?
This isn’t church group. It’s school.”

Brea
looked down, blushing. “I know, but he wanted to talk about it. It’s nothing. Honest.”

“If you say so.”

The warning bell rang and the straggling students hurried toward the main entrance. Harmony waited for the last bus to exit the parking loop and pulled Brea’s sleeve.

“What?” She stopped before going inside.

“Come on. I need to show you something.”

“Harm
, I can’t skip class again or I’m never going to take my road test. My mother—”

“
Shh.
Just come on. I’ll have you back by second period. They won’t even call her.”

“But—”

“Brea, it’s important.” She made sure the coast was clear before ducking down the hiking path they used to walk the half-mile in gym class. Brea reluctantly followed.

“Where are we going?”

Harmony cut off the trail and headed into the woods backing County Route 32. “Not far. Will you just trust me?”

“
I do trust you, but if my mother finds out—”

“Then you can ask her why she didn’t mention
being attacked by mine.”

“Wait,
what
?” Brea stopped between the tree line and the shoulder when a car appeared. “What are you talking about?”

“
Remember when she got arrested? Apparently, there was some sort of cat fight between her and your mother.” Brea’s jaw went slack. “Looks like you’re not the only one keeping secrets.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”