The Merciless

by Danielle Vega

  Brooklyn’s cell phone sits next to the backpack, wedged between the strap and the wall. It must’ve landed back here after Riley threw it.

  Nerves race up my spine. I glance over my shoulder. Riley and the others are still dragging Brooklyn up the stairs. I pick up the phone and press the power button. The screen lights up. Any fear I had that Riley might see me vanishes. Brooklyn lost a finger. She needs to get to the hospital.

  I move my thumbs over the screen.

  911, I type. When I press send the screen flashes a warning: 2% POWER.

  I swear under my breath. Maybe a text will go through. I press the message icon, and Josh’s last text pops up.

  Need company? Josh wrote. I think of what Brooklyn said—that this is where they used to go together.

  Yeah, come to the house, I type, praying he’ll remember which house is the right one. I press send, but before I can see whether the text goes through, the screen goes black.

  “Sof?” Riley calls.

  “Coming.” I stick the cell phone in the backpack and pull the bag over one shoulder. Riley and the others are halfway up the stairs now. I slip past them and help Riley with Brooklyn’s shoulders. Relief washes over her face as I take on some of the weight.

  “Maybe Grace can get the door?” I say. Riley nods.

  “The key is in my side pocket.”

  Grace slips her hand into Riley’s pocket and removes the key. She unlocks the dead bolt and pushes the door open. I focus on the text message and the possibility that Josh might be on his way now.

  He’s coming, I think. One way or another, we’re getting out of here.

  I breathe deeply, trying to get a better grip on Brooklyn’s torso by repositioning my arms beneath her shoulder. My back aches from hunching over, and pain shoots up my calves as we shuffle across the living room and into the main hall, where a shadowy staircase leads to the second floor.

  Grace helps Alexis by taking one of Brooklyn’s legs, but still it’s a struggle as we half pull, half carry her up the stairs. Blue veins run along Brooklyn’s closed eyelids, and her skin is pale as milk. If I didn’t feel her breath on the back of my arm, I’d worry she was already dead.

  We pause on the staircase landing to catch our breath. Long fingers of moonlight reach through the arched window next to us and stretch over the polished wood floor. Gasping, Riley leans against the wall, holding a hand over her chest. I glance out the window next to her, hoping to see Josh’s car driving toward the house. But the street is empty.

  “Come on,” she says, readjusting Brooklyn’s weight. “We’re almost there.”

  The second floor is less developed than the first. Cloudy plastic hangs from the ceiling, blocking off sections of unfinished wall. A paint can sits next to one of the bedroom doors, surrounded by a few empty Bud Light bottles.

  The master bedroom is directly across from the staircase. Moonlight pours through the windows as we slide Brooklyn across the dark gray tile floors, leaving behind bloody smudges. It’s past midnight. Soon, the moon will dip behind the far hills and the whole house will grow even darker than it is now.

  The bathroom is huge. White marble stretches out across one wall, and the largest Jacuzzi tub I’ve ever seen is tucked in the corner, beneath a window covered in cloudy plastic. A thin film of dust coats the porcelain double sink.

  When she reaches the tub, Riley sets Brooklyn down and leans against the counter, panting. I let go of her shoulder, too, and try to set her down gently on the tile. Brooklyn groans and curls into a fetal position. Slow, shaky breaths escape her mouth.

  “Sof, you have the holy water, right?” Riley leans over the tub and turns on the faucet. Nothing happens. She swears under her breath and turns the faucet off and then on again, but nothing comes out.

  “Maybe we can just sprinkle Brooklyn with holy water, or . . .” I start. A churning, gurgling sound echoes below the tub, cutting me off. Thick brown water spurts from the faucet. Riley squeals and plugs the drain.

  “Perfect,” she says, watching the dirty brown water fill the tub.

  Grace makes a face and covers her nose with her hand. “Gross.”

  “All things are made pure in the eyes of God,” Alexis says. She stares down at the muddy brown water and giggles again. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” she whispers.

  Her voice makes my skin crawl. Grace cringes as the tub fills and finally turns away—unable to watch.

  On the floor, Brooklyn releases a low moan. Riley kneels next to her and pushes a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead.

  “Hush, now,” she says. “This will all be over soon.”

  Brooklyn presses her lips together and nods. Even I can’t help but be comforted by Riley’s words. This will all be over soon. Alexis leans past Riley and shuts off the faucet.

  “Tub’s full,” she says. “Do you need help lifting her?”

  Riley’s eyes shift to me. “The holy water?”

  “Oh, right.” I pull open the backpack and dig out the now half-full bottle of holy water. I hand it to Riley, and she pours a few drops into the dirty brown sludge. She sets the bottle on the counter, then hauls Brooklyn up by the shoulders. Alexis grabs Brooklyn’s arms to hold her steady.

  “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Riley says, and shoves her face-first into the bathtub. Water drips down the side of the tub.

  I hold my breath as Brooklyn struggles in the tub. I remember my own baptism, and my lungs burn all over again.

  “Let her up,” I say. “That’s enough.”

  But Riley tightens her grip, shoving Brooklyn farther below the water. “Just a few more seconds,” she says.

  Brooklyn pushes against Riley’s hand, but Riley grits her teeth and holds her down. Bubbles float to the surface of the murky water. I push past Grace and kneel next to the bathtub.

  “Riley, stop.” I grab Riley by the arm, but she pushes me away. Alexis snickers when I stumble to the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Grace offers me her hand, but I ignore her, crawling back over to Riley. Brooklyn’s not moving. The water’s up to her shoulders now, and Brooklyn’s bent so far over the tub that her knees no longer touch the floor. She doesn’t struggle.

  “Riley!” I shove my hands into the water, groping for Brooklyn’s arm. But the tub is deep. My fingers brush something that feels like hair when Riley grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back. I hit my elbow on the floor and pain shoots up my arm.

  “Calm down,” Riley says. “I was just about to let her up.”

  Riley finally releases Brooklyn’s head and leans back on her heels. Her arms are stained brown from the water. Brooklyn stays still. I move closer. Just as I’m about to reach out for her again, Riley grabs Brooklyn by the legs and flips her into the tub. Murky water sloshes onto the marble floor, spraying our feet as Brooklyn’s body disappears below the surface. I struggle back onto my knees, but Riley elbows me out of the way before I reach into the bathtub again.

  “You’re crowding her.” Riley narrows her cold eyes as she looks down at me.

  “She’s drowning.” I hiss.

  “Maybe,” Riley says. “If that’s God’s will.” Riley tightens her grip on my arm and starts to pull me out of the bathroom.

  “Riley, no!” I try to yank my arm away, but Riley holds on tight. “She’s going to die!”

  “Lexie, get the door,” Riley says.

  “No!” I scream. Alexis and Grace follow us out of the bathroom. Even Alexis seems uncertain of Riley’s orders, but she still closes the door behind her. I listen for the sound of splashing or screaming—anything to tell me Brooklyn’s still alive on the other side of the door. But all I hear is silence.

  I pull away from Riley, but she digs her nails into my skin and forces me out of the bedroom and into the hall. While Alexis grabs my arms, Riley slips the tiny ke
y out of her pocket again. There’s a silver lock nailed to the doorframe, just like in the basement and at the front door.

  Riley planned this—this exact moment. She never meant to baptize Brooklyn. From the beginning, she’s been planning to lock her in that bathroom to die.

  While Riley is fumbling with the key, I twist my arm away from Alexis, then swing it back, hitting her just below the ribs. Swearing, she doubles over, and I slip out of her grip. I barrel into Riley shoulder first, shoving her aside before she can click the lock shut.

  “Sofia, stop!” Riley yells. I don’t listen. I push the bedroom door open and race for the bathroom. My feet slip over the slick wooden floor, still wet from blood and the dirty tub water.

  Riley catches up to me as I reach the bathroom. I try to open the door, but she slaps it shut again.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” she says, panting. “The devil . . .”

  I force the door open, pushing her aside. She slips on a puddle of water near the bathroom door and nearly falls, grabbing hold of the wall to catch herself. The water’s surface looks as still as glass. I run to the tub and drop to my knees, thrusting a hand through the brown water. Grace and Alexis crowd behind Riley in the doorway, their footsteps echoing against the marble floors. They hurry over to me, but they’re too late. We all are. I stand, pulling my trembling arm out of the water.

  “Oh my god,” I say, lifting my hands to my mouth.

  The bathtub is empty. Brooklyn isn’t dead—she’s gone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Brooklyn’s gone. I back into Riley and her body stiffens. Her fingers enclose my wrists.

  “Where is she?” Riley asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  Riley drops my arm. Her eyes widen, and she scans the bathroom, edging her way toward the door. Every muscle in her body tenses, as if she expects Brooklyn to jump out of the walls.

  I replay the situation in my head again and again, like it’s a math problem that doesn’t add up. I wrap my arms around my chest and search the bathroom. Grace clutches the doorframe, her knuckles going white. Alexis hovers next to her. The corner of her lips twists into something between a smile and a grimace.

  “We should have known she would get away,” she says. I ignore her and start throwing open the cabinets and closet and shower doors. Empty, all of them. Brooklyn really isn’t here.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Riley slams her open palm against the counter next to the sink.

  “Riley—”

  “No!” Riley snaps, cutting me off. “We have to find her. Now!”

  The weird smile stays painted on Alexis’s face. She wraps a long blond strand of hair around one finger. “Don’t you get it? She’s going to find us, and then she’s going to kill us.”

  “No!” Riley jerks her head back and forth. “No. She’s too weak. That’s not going to happen. Grace, search the basement. The rest of us will look for her on the main floors.”

  “Why would we look for her inside?” Grace is talking so fast that her words slur together. “She probably went right for the front door, Ri.”

  “No,” Riley insists. “There’s no way out, I made sure of it. She’s still in the house. We just have to find here.”

  Grace looks like she might say something else, but instead she presses her lips together and nods.

  “You check the bedrooms,” Riley says to Alexis. “Sofia and I will look downstairs.”

  Alexis’s smile fades. “You want me to go alone?”

  “Just do it.” Riley grabs my arm and pulls me from the room into the hall.

  Shadows pool in the corners. The plastic hanging from the ceiling rustles in phantom wind. Every second that ticks past pounds at the inside of my skull. I want Brooklyn to get away from here. I should be trying to mess Riley up—every moment we waste could be the moment Brooklyn finds an open window or a door without a lock on it.

  But as much as I want this to be over and for Brooklyn to be safe, I still don’t know what she’s capable of. She could be hiding around every corner, waiting on the other side of every wall. She could be anywhere.

  A floorboard groans. I jump and spin around, but it’s just Grace. She slips down the stairs without a word.

  Riley lifts the worn black backpack from the floor where I dropped it. She pulls it open and removes the butcher knife. Her bare feet are practically silent as she moves down the hallway, her back to the wall to keep the floorboards from creaking. I picture the rows of nails wedged into the window frames. There’s no way Brooklyn could pull them out of the wood before we reach the first floor. I have to stall Riley.

  “Hurry,” Riley hisses. She starts down the stairs, and when she reaches the landing, she pauses and cocks her head.

  I hear it, too—laughing. At first it’s faint, but then it bubbles into a giggle and cuts off abruptly. I turn to look for Alexis, but the hallway behind me is empty. She must’ve already gone into another room.

  “Check on Lexie,” Riley says. The top of her head disappears from view as she makes her way to the first floor.

  I drag my feet down the hall until I’m standing in front of the window at the end of the hall, next to the cloudy sheet of plastic hanging from the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye I see something dart across the floor, and I spin around. A knotted rope hangs from the ceiling, casting a shadow that sweeps over the floor as it sways back and forth, back and forth. I reach out to steady it, then tilt my head, following the rope to a door directly above me. The attic.

  The plastic sheet rustles, even though there’s no wind.

  “Brooklyn?” I turn, listening for breathing, but I only hear my own heart hammering in my chest. The blurry shadows between the plastic and the unfinished wall look large enough to be a person. I step closer, my sneakers squeaking against the floor. I lift a shaking hand and wrap my fingers around the plastic.

  Someone laughs. I turn so quickly I lose my balance and stumble into the window behind me. The pane shudders, and for a second I’m certain it’ll crack. But it holds. The glass feels cold against my bare arms.

  There’s silence in the empty hallway, then the laughter rises again. It’s breathless at first. Then gasping—hysterical. It’s coming from the bedroom across from me. I creep forward and push open the door.

  Alexis is alone in the empty room, her wide, vacant eyes fixed on some point on the wall in front of her. She balances on the sides of her feet, curling her bare toes inward, like claws. Blood stains the skin along the bottoms of her feet.

  Giggling quietly to herself, she twists a long strand of blond hair around her finger. Tighter and tighter she winds it, until her fingertip turns blue.

  Then she yanks—pulling the hair right out of her head.

  I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands to muffle the sound. Alexis turns her head slowly, like she just realized I was there.

  “Don’t you think it’s funny?” She spreads her fingers and the lock flutters out of her hand, landing on a pile of hair at her feet. Curly strands cover the floor like tiny blond question marks.

  “What’s funny, Alexis?” I swallow, forcing my eyes away from the hair.

  “We’re all going to die here,” she says in a raspy voice. “We’re going to die screaming.”

  A chill runs down my spine. The door behind me slams open and hits the wall with a crack. I take a deep breath as I turn around, so I don’t look as terrified as I feel.

  Riley stands in the hallway, one hand curled around the doorframe while the other rests next to her leg, clutching the butcher knife. Brown crusty blood clings to the hems of her jeans. She glances at the hair piled beside Alexis’s bare feet but says nothing.

  “Find Brooklyn yet?” Alexis asks. Riley taps the knife against her leg.

  “She’s not downstairs.” Riley lowers her hand from the doorframe and steps into the hallw
ay to glance out the window. “Grace thinks—”

  A ceiling beam groans above us.

  “What was that?” I whisper.

  “She’s on the roof.” Alexis puts a cold hand on my arm. Blond hair clings to her fingertips. “How did she get on the roof?”

  The attic door falls open with a crack. Riley jumps and her knife clatters to the floor, its handle sliding beneath the plastic sheet behind her.

  I swear under my breath and stumble into Alexis. She releases a string of half-crazy giggles and winds another bunch of blond hair around her finger. The attic door swings back and forth, its hinges creaking.

  “No one’s there,” Riley gasps, relief flooding her face. She kneels, fumbling along the floor with shaking hands. She stares at the dark hole in the ceiling that leads to the attic while she gropes for the knife. I watch the door, too, picturing Brooklyn dropping down on us. Every hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure appear behind the plastic sheet covering the walls.

  Before I can react, Brooklyn tears the sheet from the ceiling and brings it down over Riley’s face. Riley screams, and Brooklyn tightens the plastic around her head, pulling her to the floor. She pins Riley’s arm to the floor with her shoulder and tightens the plastic around her face.

  “Help!” Riley yells, sucking the plastic to her lips. Her fingers find the butcher knife, and she waves it around wildly.

  Brooklyn pulls her hand back and slams it into Riley’s face. She tries to tear the knife out of her hand, but Riley’s gripping it tight as she stabs at the air, blinded from the cloudy plastic covering her face. Gritting her teeth, Brooklyn slams her elbow into Riley’s fist. Riley swears, and her fingers go slack around the knife handle. Brooklyn yanks at the knife again, and this time she tugs it free.

  “Get away from her!” Alexis races toward them just as Brooklyn struggles to her feet, holding the knife in front of her. Alexis freezes, then takes a step backward.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” Brooklyn shouts. Now that’s she’s not tumbling around on the ground with Riley, I see just how thrashed she looks. Her clothes are soaked and bloodied, and her hair sticks up in damp spikes. The toilet paper around her destroyed pinkie is gone, revealing the red stub where the tip of her finger used to be. The dirty tub water washed the blood from her skin, but that only makes it easier to see the deep, ugly cuts twisting across her face and legs and arms. Angry purple bruises blossom on her cheeks like flowers.