She felt frail. Skin and bones. And all at once I remembered—she was sick. Realized her last memories with her daughter were stolen, twisted into something cruel and violent that she’d have to live with for whatever time she had left. And I’d stolen her chance to mourn.
I broke away from her embrace, all but stumbling backward. “Excuse me,” I managed and retreated to the bathroom.
I closed the door, leaning against the frame, and listened to their murmured voices on the other side, mostly Mom apologizing more. But Mrs. D’Ovidio left soon, so I went to my room and flopped down on the bed.
My mom came in a few minutes later. “I wish,” she said, sitting down on the edge of my bed, “I wish—”
“I know.”
“Do you want to talk?” She rested a hand on my knee.
I shook my head, my throat too tight to vocalize a no.
“I can stay with you.”
I shook my head again.
“I’m right outside if you need me, hon.” Her arms wrapped around me, and I let myself cling to her for a solid minute before I pulled away.
As soon as the door closed, I started Tess’s playlist, lay back on the bed, and looked up, expecting to see the peeling star stickers I’d never managed to scrape off my ceiling.
Instead I saw galaxies.
She’d used shades of pink, blue, orange, and green so light, they almost blended with the white of the ceiling. The effect so subtle I’d missed it God knows how many times. But now, I could see all the intricate details.
My mind flashed back to all the time she’d spent in my room without me, trying to figure out when she’d done it. When the playlist shifted to wordless scores, I found my answer. I remembered coming in here to ask for help moving boxes and finding her with a smear of blue paint on her face, this song blaring through the speakers.
As the music swelled, I could see Tess in my mind’s eye. Smiling, tucking her hair behind her ears as she hunched over her sketch book, looking up at me through thick lashes, tapping the lid of her soda three times. I saw all the tiny details and the big picture that had been her life. And for the first time, I understood why songs didn’t always need words.
Epilogue
Thursday, October 6th
DERRICK . . .
My phone clattered to the floor as I bolted upright, my heart slamming in my chest. Did I drift off? I glanced at the painted ceiling but couldn’t make it out through the dusky shadows that had permeated the room.
I’d slept the entire day away.
Rubbing my temples, I tried to chase the hungover feeling of too much sleep out of my brain, but it was no use. I felt crummy and lethargic.
From the floor, my phone began to beep incessantly. I picked it up and silenced the alarm.
Moonrise.
I flopped back onto the bed. Like that mattered anymore.
Derrick . . . the wind whispered my name, stirring against my neck.
But I was inside.
Dampness drew my hand up to wipe my nose, and I started at the sight of blood glimmering darkly on my fingers.
Her last thought was of you. The memory of the Estrie’s voice echoed through my mind as I scrambled out of bed. That forms a powerful connection that, for obvious reasons, doesn’t often get explored.
Twice, I realized. She’d thought of me before . . . twice.
The doorbell rang.
I rushed into the hall, nearly tripping in my haste. In a matter of seconds, I reached my front door, fumbling with the latch, daring to hope.
There was no demon on my porch. Just a slim girl, whose shadow I’d recognize no matter how dark the night, absolutely soaked, and dripping with salt water.
The End
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Acknowledgement
I absolutely adore writing, but there is so much more to creating a book than the whims of my imagination. A huge thank you to:
My wonderful husband, Brandon: Words cannot express how much your love and support mean to me after all these years, so I’ll settle for thanking you for being willing to sleep in the same house, much less the same bed, after reading all those death scenes.
My bold, beautiful, brave, and brilliant Bella. I am so lucky to have you for a daughter. Sorry for all the time I spend staring at my computer.
My favorite Brother, Tyler for being my biggest fan and for producing my audio books. They kept telling us we’d get along when we got older. I’m so glad they were right.
My mother for helping me every step of the way. I included a nice mom in this story just for you.
The Athens Area Writers Group members past and present who read version after version after version after version of the same scenes until I got them right. This book would not exist if not for you.
My fantastic D&D Group, Jim and Cassie Page; Rob Olin; Elizabeth Sadler, and Josh Garnto, for meeting every other week to blow off steam and have some fun.
My amazing content editor Brenda Chin, the things you catch and suggestions you make never cease to amaze me. You make my books so much better!
My cover artist and altogether literary genius, Debra Dixon. Everyone always comments my covers.
My copy editor, Alexandra Christle. I knew from comment one I’d like you.
The entire team at Bell Bridge Books for taking a chance on my complete and utter genre shift into YA horror.
And, as always, to my wonderful readers for taking the leap from gods to monsters. Thank you for all the comments, messages, and likes. You have no idea how much they matter to me.
About the Author
KAITLIN BEVIS spent her childhood curled up with a book and a pen. If the ending didn’t agree with her, she rewrote it. Because she’s always wanted to be a writer, she spent high school and college learning everything she could to achieve that goal. After graduating college with a master of arts in English, Kaitlin went on to write The Daughters of Zeus series, and now a young adult horror novel, Blood and Other Matter. Visit her at: KaitlinBevis.com
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