Rage fractured her, as it had throughout the years, and she called out to the spirits, to the Good Mother, begging for vengeance. She feared her call would go unanswered, as it had many times, but then the trespasser bled and the blood was absorbed into her.
She swelled with exaltation. The man’s blood had brought the past rushing back, the memories like a fresh experience from only moments ago. The witch seethed. The blood was as glorious as it was sour, rotten, but she lapped it up, sucking into the earth, into the flora. Energy flowed through her, the sensation of being awakened, but it wasn’t enough. She needed the man to burst open, she needed all his blood, unless…
She waited, feeling the man run, his footfalls pounding against the earth. She heard his heart beating faster, his breathing speed up. He was moving, running, heading toward the sacred place, her place.
Finally, the man stepped onto the hallowed ground, the place of her demise. His blood was even more invigorating here, potent, giving her more power. She was able to absorb more of it, and directly into her bones.
She screamed, feeling a modicum of her strength return, knowing vengeance would soon be hers.
George opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured it over the cut. The stinging sensation increased, but was welcomed. The white bubbles formed, killing the germs. He’d recently heard that using hydrogen peroxide killed healthy cells too. Hogwash, he thought. People had been using the stuff for years, and it was better to kill germs than to succumb to infection. If a few healthy cells died, he had plenty more to take their place.
After rinsing off his hand a few times, he bandaged it with gauze, using two metal clips to keep the cloth from unwrapping and falling off. It was good enough for now. He’d do a more thorough job when he arrived home. Now, he had a job to finish.
George headed back to the crop. He opened a garbage bag and began stuffing it with plants when something slid around his left ankle. Flinching, he looked down and saw that one of the vines from the forest had coiled around him.
What the hell?
He withdrew the machete from its sheath on his belt, figuring he’d cut himself free, when a vine from another part of the woods shot forth and snaked itself around his wrist.
George’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He heard a rustling noise from behind, and turned to look. Another vine came from the woods, this one creeping along the ground, shoving aside dead leaves and twigs. It reached his left ankle and encircled it, tightening. George was too dumbfounded to move, his brain freezing up on him. He looked at the bag of weed, wondering if the plants had somehow gotten him high. Maybe when he had cut himself, whatever was on the machete’s blade had seeped into his bloodstream, causing him to trip as if he were on acid.
Fuck this, he thought. It ain’t real.
He tried to lower his machete-wielding arm to no avail, the imaginary vines holding tight. Using his free hand, he reached over to grab the machete, but the vine around his left wrist squeezed, causing him to drop the tool. Blood oozed from where the rough bark sliced into his skin.
Shit.
Then the vines pulled his legs apart, and he fell on his ass. More vines shot from the woods, and from all angles, wrapping themselves around his arms, legs, neck, and free hand. His ankles and wrists were in immense pain as the vines constricted, the blood cut off to his hands and feet.
George screamed as he fell onto his back, his voice raspy and pathetic. “Help. Somebody help me.”
The vines continued to pull his arms and legs in opposite directions. His legs were almost in full split form, his crotch in agony. A vine slithered up his pant leg and slid around his groin.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He cried out, attempting to break free, but the vines were too strong. He heard something snap in his groin, then felt a sharp, stabbing pain tear into his gut as each leg was ripped from his body. Blood exploded from the gaping holes, saturating the ground in glossy red.
Another vine wrapped itself around his throat, silencing his screams and cutting off air to his lungs. He felt more vines seize him, tightening around every part of his flesh, entering the holes where his legs had been, slithering inside him. With bulging eyes, he stared into the baby blue sky as his head was torn from his body, and George Wilford knew no more.
The witch lapped up the man’s blood, absorbing it into her pores, feeding the island, feeding herself. She suckled his flesh, his bones, until they were no more. New life, new power, flowed through her. The island shuddered. She stretched, moaned and cackled. Birds took flight, frogs leaped into the water, turtles hid beneath their shells. Worms burrowed to the surface, while ants and beetles scurried nervously.
After a human kill, desperate for more power, the witch had fed on such creatures, their blood keeping her conscious with human memories.
Now, she begged the Good Mother to deliver her further sustenance, and the power she needed to exact her revenge and make the sons and daughters of her murderers pay the ultimate price.
If only more would come to her, feed her. If only…
Chapter Seven
Melinda stared at herself in the mirror through tear-rimmed eyes. She took a deep breath and fluttered her eyelids, trying to stem the waterworks. She’d been doing this successfully over the past few weeks. A tear managed to escape, and trickled down her cheek. With a quick swipe of her hand, the salty droplet was vanquished. She forced a smile. “Everything will be okay,” she said softly.
Her stomach was in knots, and had been for a while now. She’d lost eight pounds recently, having been unable to eat much of anything, save alcohol, which helped with her pain and guilt. Thank goodness it was her senior year because she couldn’t concentrate on her work, or much of anything else. Around others, her friends especially, she put up a good front, pretending everything was okay, but it wasn’t. She thought time would make it all better, but she was only feeling worse. She needed to talk to someone. She wondered who she could truly trust, but it didn’t take much to know the answer was Gwen.
She’d told Gwen things before, like when she’d gotten pregnant with Darren’s child. That had been a crazy, uneasy time. It had given her a ton of practice in the art of pretending—the fake smiles, laughs, interests, when all she thought about was the choice she had made, but she’d done it for the right reason. At least she thought she had.
Gwen had been so understanding, and promised to never tell a soul. Melinda had decided to keep the truth from Darren. He was on a path for the NFL, for greatness, and if she had a child with him, he might do the right thing—which was the wrong thing, and forgo college and get a job to support her and his child.
Sure, Melinda wanted Darren home, wanted him to marry her and start a family, but it wasn’t the right time. She had things she wanted to do too, and having a child would change all that. The fact that she had been thinking all of these things was evidence enough that she wasn’t ready to be a mom. She had confided in Gwen, asking not for advice, but just someone she could unburden herself to. Gwen never judged her and remained a good friend, never even brought the topic up or talked about it unless Melinda did first.
Couples usually told their secrets to each other. Melinda had worried that Gwen would tell Jim, but if she had, and had lied about doing so, Melinda hadn’t been able to tell. Jim never looked at her oddly, or with pity, and he obviously never told Darren.
So all this was why Melinda decided to go to Gwen again with another serious situation. No, it wasn’t as serious as the abortion decision, but it was still gut-wrenchingly awful, with detrimental consequences if it became known to others.
Melinda cracked open the bathroom door and called Gwen’s name.
“Yeah,” Gwen replied.
Music was playing in Shay’s room now, which Melinda was grateful for. She didn’t want to have to worry about the others hearing her and Gwen talking.
“I need your help with something.”
“Be right there.”
Melinda sat o
n the closed toilet lid and waited, feeling like she had to pee from nerves.
Gwen poked her head into the bathroom. “What’s up?” she asked, smiling, then her brows furrowed. “What happened?” She came in and closed the door behind her.
“I did something…really, really stupid.” The room blurred as the tears came. She blinked rapidly and took deep breaths to try and stem off a full-out bawl session.
“Talk to me, sweetie,” Gwen said, kneeling in front of her. “Is it Darren? Did something happen?”
Melinda shook her head. She was looking down and watched a tear dot the right leg of her pants. “I cheated on Darren,” she said, her voice squeaky. More tears fell.
“You didn’t…”
Melinda nodded.
Gwen laid her hands on Melinda’s arms, squeezed gently, and looked up into Melinda’s eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
“Do you remember the Cohens’ party last week?”
“Yeah.”
“Darren was away, visiting his new school.”
“Right.”
“I was really down. Have been for a while. I got really wasted at the party. Paul was there and…”
Gwen put a hand over her mouth, her face in shock. “Oh my God, Mel. Paul? Shay’s Paul? Tell me you’re joking.”
Melinda shook her head slowly, cheeks glistening.
Gwen stood, plucked a tissue from the box on the back of the toilet and offered it to Melinda.
Melinda took it and wiped her face, then blew her nose.
“I found myself upstairs in one of the Cohens’ bedrooms. He found me there. He saw how depressed I was, caught me crying. He told me things were going to change after high school. He and Shay were breaking up. It was time to explore new things. Darren was a fool for leaving me.” Melinda looked up, catching Gwen’s stare. “I can’t explain it, but I needed someone at that moment. A friend. He held me. Talked to me. It felt so good. We drank more…then it just happened, the kiss. He’s cute, you know, and I was wasted. He was being so nice, understanding. We started going at it, ripping off each other’s clothes and…”
Gwen was unmoving, unblinking.
Doubt crept into Melinda’s head. She wondered if her friend was judging her, and wouldn’t be so understanding this time, or there for her. Melinda had committed the cardinal sin among friends. Shay was Gwen’s best friend, but they’d all been friends since junior high school.
“I’m so sorry, Gwen. What do I do?”
Gwen bit her lower lip. “Nothing. You do nothing.” Her deadpan expression turned to one of anger. Her nostrils flared, eyes narrowed.
Melinda shrank back, afraid of what her friend might do, but then Gwen surprised her.
“What we’re going to do is cut Paul’s balls off.” Gwen backed against the door, lips pursed. “Damn him,” she said, and kicked the door. “How could Paul do this to you and Darren, to Shay, to all of us?”
“It was my fault too,” Melinda said. “It takes two, remember? I may have been drunk, but I was just a part of it as Paul. It was stupid, so fucking stupid. Paul feels the same, least I think he does.”
Gwen gave her a questioning look.
“He doesn’t talk to me anymore, let alone look at me. Whenever we pass by each other in the hall, he looks down.” Melinda shook her head, then stomped the floor. “Damn it. I don’t know what he’s thinking…if he’s sorry, ashamed, or just done with me.”
“Look,” Gwen said, putting both her hands on Melinda’s shoulders, “you fucked up royally. There’s no getting around it. Paul has always been an ass. He’s slid his dick into plenty of girls, Shay puts up with it. She isn’t an angel either, but she’d never shit where she eats. This further cements that Paul is a total asshole. A real scumbag. He doesn’t get fall-down wasted. He can hold his liquor well. I’d bet anything that he knew exactly what he was doing. He simply can’t keep his dick under control.”
“Should I tell Darren? This has been eating away at me—”
“Hell no,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “You want Darren to go to jail for murder? It was a mistake that’s going to stay between you, Paul and me. I mean, you still love Darren, right?”
“Very much,” Melinda said, turning around to pluck another tissue from the back of the toilet. She held it to her nose. “I can’t believe this shit. I can’t believe what I’ve done.”
“Look, you love him. He loves you. Telling him the truth will only hurt him and screw everything up. Lead to really, really bad things; fracture friendships. Unless you plan on breaking up with him, this is one burden you have to bear alone.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Someone banged on the door. “What are you guys doing in there?”
“Just a sec,” Gwen said, then to Melinda, “Clean yourself up and come out.”
“What about tonight?”
“Don’t worry. Just be with Darren. Ignore Paul. Sorry, but you’ll have to hide your true feelings. Do it for Darren, okay?”
Melinda nodded. “I can do that.” She wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “See, I’m getting good at it.”
Chapter Eight
Paul waited in his car outside of Darren’s house. They were in charge of getting the alcohol for tonight’s gathering. Darren was well known throughout the community, so it was up to Paul to actually buy the booze. Dressed in a suit and slacks, Paul could pass for an early to mid twenty-year-old, and with his incredible, paid-a-lot-of-money-for-it fake ID, he never had a problem purchasing beer.
Paul had been avoiding Darren as much as possible ever since he slept with Melinda. He had hoped the girl wouldn’t squeal about their romp, but one never knew. Paul supposed if Darren had found out, he’d be dead now, so he felt pretty sure that the big guy didn’t know—unless he was the calculating sort, and was waiting to get Paul alone. If that was the case, there wasn’t much he could do about it. So for now, he needed to act like all was well.
Paul had Shay, one of the sexiest, coolest girls in school—hell, in all of town. He couldn’t have asked for a better chick, and if he had to admit it, he did love her. But he was young, good-looking, and had a super aggressive libido. In a few months, he was about to head into the great wide world of college, where parties and women were to be had almost every night. This is what he dreamed of. It would be his world, but only for a short time. Then the real world, the world filled with responsibilities—kids, car payments, bills and paying off school loans—would begin, along with other shit he didn’t want to think about, like a beer gut, losing his hair and the need to pop pills to get hard.
Paul shivered at the thoughts.
College life came before all that horrible shit. It was a place filled with people from all over the country. The experience would be epic; the quantity of eager, available women would be too numerous to count. He’d conquered high school pussy. College was next.
Paul had had no regrets—except one, but he’d taken care of that when he screwed Melinda. She was the only girl left on his list of Girls I Must Sleep With Before College. Well, there was Gwen, she was a hottie too, but there was no way he would get her to fuck him—drunk, stoned or whatever, and Jim had been his best friend for years.
Paul had wanted to get with Melinda since junior high school, but during those two years in seventh and eighth grade, he’d been too busy with other girls, and before you knew it, Darren had snatched her up when they hit high school, causing Paul to have to strike the girl from his list of women to bang.
Then Shay moved into town, and Paul quickly forgot about Melinda. Shay was perfect, and the two clicked immediately. She put up with his ogling other girls—as long as he didn’t touch. From Paul’s point of view, it was as long as he didn’t get caught, he could do as he pleased.
Shay was a wildcat in the sack, doing everything he wanted and more. Though a threesome would’ve been nice, she declined every time he brought it up. He’d only cheated on her a few times each year and with girls from other schools, usually ones
he hooked up with at a cross-town party or bar—his incredible ID coming in handy. He wasn’t about to go sleeping around and hooking up with girls from the same school he and Shay went attended.
Senior year brought with it a desire though, a hunger. Shay was still as sexy as ever, but he wanted to be free to screw whomever he wanted. Hiding, sneaking, was okay while in high school, but in college, he was going to be a true ladies’ man. College would be a heavenly place. Eventually, he’d join a frat, then watch the hotties roll in, open their legs and mouths for him.
Melinda caught his eye again during the year. His desire for her had always been there, but the plethora of other girls, and Darren, had kept him in check. But Melinda was like a thing to be conquered. The one that got away, the regret he would have one day later in life. He needed to have her in his collection of conquests, a notch in his proverbial belt, and he needed to do it before he left for college.
As each day passed by, the need to have her grew. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering what she was like in bed, with those curves, thick lips and perfectly shaped DD breasts. Once he went off to college, his chances with her would diminish. He just knew it.
But she loved Darren. There was no doubt about that. Those two would marry one day, he knew that too, because the big guy was a solid dude, a one-woman kind of guy. But that guy was also heading off to the pros one day, unless of course he suffered an injury, and then who knew what would happen. Melinda was staying in town, joining her mother and sister at the hair salon. Did she actually think Darren wouldn’t get scooped up by his future stardom and forget all about her? When he realized this, he realized he had a chance—slim, but a chance to break through her armor.
Then, one day, fate seemed to pay him a visit. He found himself at a party with Melinda, while Darren was away visiting his soon-to-be college. Shay had left the party early, complaining of menstrual cramps. Jim and Gwen had stayed in and Steve was working, like usual. Of their tight little group of friends, only he and Melinda remained at the party. He had thought this strange, for why would Melinda stay at the party alone. She and Paul hardly ever talked outside of being around Shay or the others.
Witch Island Page 6
