I turn around.
“You’re really not like him, you know,” Abby says. “You’re nice, and caring, and you always look out for me. You make me feel like I have a brother again.”
I:
1. Didn’t know I meant so much to her.
2. Can’t think of anything else to say but, “Thank you.”
Abby smiles, and says, “I know you think it’s dangerous for us to be close, but do you think we could hug, just this once?”
I nod.
We hug.
And Abby cries into my chest, over my heart.
“What’s wrong?” I say, and I feel stupid for saying it.
Like Cicely said, everything’s wrong.
Abby:
1. Steps back.
2. Wipes her nose on her sleeve.
3. Says, “I’m afraid Gordon’s right, and you guys really did outsmart Pete in the cabin. What if he decides to kill us because we’re not fulfilling his plans?”
“He won’t,” I say, and most of me believes it. “Pete called us some of his favorite projects. I’m sure he won’t give up on abusing us so easily.”
Of course, I’m also sure Pete won’t want to torment us forever.
It’s only a matter of time before he:
1. Tires of devouring our happiness.
2. Hungers for our lives.
But I don’t tell Abby any of this.
Instead, I say, I try to believe, “Everything’s gonna be alright. We’ll find some way to stop Pete. We’ll make him undo our curses.”
“I don’t care about that stuff,” Abby says. “Maybe I’m evil for saying this, but I don’t even care about getting my family back.”
“You’re not evil.”
“I mean, I care about my family. I just don’t know them. They’re like shadows inside me, you know? But you and Cicely and everybody else, you’re real. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I understand. I’ll do everything I can to stay alive.”
“Thanks.”
Abby and me, we:
1. Hug one more time.
2. Return to the living room.
And Ruth says, “I’d like to host a funeral for Kin at my house. That is, if you think Kin would approve.”
“She would,” Abby says. “She’d be really happy.”
Ruth smiles a little. “Do you have any idea what kind of service she’d prefer?”
Abby nods. “She actually talked to me about that once. She said she wanted her funeral to be like a goodbye party. With streamers and cakes and stuff like that. She wanted us to celebrate her life, and life itself, you know?”
“Everything’s going to hell,” Cicely says, whispers.
In the silence that follows, my eyes search her face for the woman I knew.
I can’t find her.
Then I:
1. Put my hand on her arm.
2. Say, “We’ll be alright.”
“I’m not just talking about us,” Cicely says. “I’m talking about everyone. When I drop this ball, the world’s going to end.”
“We’ll break the curse before that happens.”
But Cicely doesn’t seem to hear me. Or maybe she’s ignoring me.
She:
1. Frowns hard.
2. Stares at the tennis ball, as if she can see the whole world collapsing on the yellow surface. Maybe she can.
“Cicely?” I say, trying to reach the woman I hope still exists inside her.
“I go there in my dreams,” she says.
“Where?”
“The end of the world.”
And I think:
1. Meteor.
2. Plague.
3. Nuclear war.
Then Cicely says, “Every night, I open my eyes, and I’m at some location I’ve never been to before, and I can’t move. I’m forced to watch as friends, or relatives, or lovers turn on each other. They scream and fight. The scenes usually end in murder. And afterward, I’m hit with a realization. This tragedy’s going to happen because of me. Because when I drop this ball, all the respect remaining in the world will fade away.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Those sound like horrible nightmares.”
“They’re more than nightmares,” she says, still staring at the ball. “They’re visions. I’ve tried convincing myself that I’m only suffering a possible future, like in A Christmas Carol. But there’s no preventing this hell. There’s no stopping Pete.” She laughs. “John used to say I had a difficult time facing reality, and now I know just how right he was. Somehow, I thought if I could just talk to Pete, face to face, we could come to some sort of agreement. But Pete’s not going to compromise. Of course he’s not. He’s a psychopath.”
Without another word, she:
1. Stands up.
2. Walks into her room.
3. Closes the door.
My whole body shudders as Cicely’s words eat away at something deep inside me.
Something precious.
Just as I make up my mind to go after Cicely, the bedroom door opens.
And I imagine her returning with a:
1. Grin.
2. Bizarre comment.
3. Movie she wants us to watch.
Instead, she returns with a gun in her hand.
“What’s going on?” I say.
“I’m sorry,” Cicely says. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Her tone adds fuel to my terror, because she’s never sounded so:
1. Cold.
2. Empty.
I stand up.
“Don’t get any closer,” Cicely says, pointing the gun at her head. “I have a few things I want to say, but if you try to stop me, I’ll go right now.”
I don’t:
1. Move.
2. Breathe.
Though I feel like screaming.
“This wasn’t an easy decision,” Cicely says. “You’re all very special to me, and I hate to leave you like this. I wish there was more I could do for you.”
“Please don’t do this,” Abby says, crying.
“I have to. I don’t want to die, but more than that, I don’t want to watch all the love in the world drain away. I don’t want to become heartless.”
“You won’t, Cis. I promise. We’ll find a way to keep that from happening.”
“This is the only way.”
In a heartbeat, the truth:
1. Consumes me.
2. Overpowers my fear.
Cicely’s right.
So I say, “If you die, I’m dying with you.”
“Hold on, Nick,” Gordon says. “We don’t even know if Cicely’s right about the world ending. What if her curse is deluding her?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, without her, I’ll have nothing left to live for.” I look Cicely in the eyes. “I love you.”
And for a few fleeting moments:
1. Cicely beams, bright.
2. The world is right in the living room again.
Then her smile withers away and she says, “I’m happy to hear that, hon. We can start a life together in the next world. Are you ready to pass on now?”
I nod.
“No!” Abby says, grabbing my arm. “You and Cis are like my family. You’re all I have left. I need you.”
“This doesn’t have to be goodbye,” I say.
“Nicholas is right,” Cicely says, and points the gun at Abby. “You can come with us.”
Abby:
1. Yelps.
2. Releases my arm.
3. Runs into her bedroom.
And Ruth:
1. Slaps me, probably because I’m the one without the gun.
2. Says, “Hasn’t Abby suffered enough already?”
“We want to end her suffering,” I say.
“Abby can join us when she’s ready,” Cicely says. “Shall we go, hon?”
I:
1. Nod.
2. Approach her.
“Do you want to go first?” Cicely says.
“Or should I?”
“Either way,” I say.
Then Ruth:
1. Says, “Wait!”
2. Picks up a pen from the coffee table.
3. Writes on the back of an envelope.
“What are you doing?” I say.
Ruth:
1. Doesn’t respond.
2. Writes for a while longer.
3. Collapses on the couch.
Cicely and me, we rush over to her.
“Ruth?” Cicely says.
“What’s going on?” Gordon says.
“Ruth’s unconscious,” I say. “She left us a note.”
So out loud I read:
Dear Peons,
I value our friendship, and so I’ve decided to save your pathetic little lives. I could, of course, use my powers to prevent you from killing yourselves, but then I’d have to put you on a 24/7 suicide watch. And that would get old fast. I have a life outside of work, and I need my me time.
I could also imbue your flesh with immortality, but let’s face it. None of you deserve such a gift. Anyway, I don’t want to run into you 1000 years from now, because that would be socially awkward for all of us.
And so I’ve decided to pencil in a meeting with you tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be able to work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial to all parties concerned. Therefore, it would be most imprudent of you to blow your bitty brains out at this time.
Yours faithfully,
Pete, Esq.
P.S. You’re welcome.
#31
There are 3 ways I can see this ending:
1. Pete kills us.
2. Pete tortures us, then kills us.
3. Pete tortures us, lets us go, then torments us for days or weeks or years before deciding to finally finish us off.
I wish I could muster some hope for another conclusion:
4. Pete decides to let us live.
But I’m sure he won’t limit how much he takes from us.
If my past has taught me anything, it’s that a monster always wants more, because more is never enough.
Finally, Cicely stops convulsing.
“Are you awake?” I say.
“Yes,” Cicely says, cold and empty, like the room.
“He hasn’t shown himself yet.”
“OK.”
At this point, I want to:
1. Hold her.
2. Tell her everything’s gonna be alright.
But instead, I:
1. Stay quiet.
2. Stare at the closed door.
3. Listen to the same throaty rumbling I heard the last time I was here.
After a while, Abby:
1. Stops trembling.
2. Says, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing yet,” I say. “We’re waiting for Pete.”
“What do you think he’s gonna do to us?”
“I don’t know.”
A moment later, the deep grumbling stops.
And I say, “I think he’s coming.”
Abby:
1. Struggles against her leg shackles.
2. Bursts into tears.
Then the door opens.
Pete:
1. Emerges from the darkness.
2. Smirks.
3. Says, “Hiya, fellas.”
Part of me regrets I didn’t kill myself:
1. Yesterday.
Or even:
2. Years ago, when I took too many pills, and almost didn’t call anyone.
The other part of me wants to:
1. Become Batman.
2. Battle my arch nemesis.
3. Save the day.
But I do nothing.
As for Pete, he says, “I hope you’re hungry, because I grilled us some Gordon and Ruth kabobs for lunch.” He laughs. “No, your friends are fine. They may not be as important to me as the 3 of you, but they’re still amusing enough not to slaughter. Anyway, I hate the taste of humans. No offense. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?”
No one replies.
I glance over at Cicely and notice her:
1. Hands trembling.
2. Eyes staring at the floor.
Pete recaptures my attention as he:
1. Approaches us, causing Abby to cry harder.
2. Stops right in front of Cicely.
3. Looks down at her, smiling.
4. Says, “You know, the first time I ever laid eyes on you, I didn’t think much of your flesh. You’re not exactly a traditional beauty, to say the least. But I have to admit, your body’s grown on me. So much so, I’ve made a habit of smearing my presence all over you whenever you take a shower. It’s one of the highlights of my day, actually.”
Right now, I want to kick Pete in the balls.
But I just sit there.
And Pete says, “I want you to know, I’m not one of those people who only see women as sexual objects. Far from it. I’m interested in your mind, your emotions, the whole enchilada. Your suffering is a valuable asset to me, and I don’t relish the thought of you finding a sort of nihilistic peace in oblivion. Therefore, after careful consideration, I’ve decided to lift your curse. I hope you understand how lucky you are. Normally, I wouldn’t reverse any of my past achievements, but this is a special case. Your greatest pain is to witness the sorrow of others, and so even without your curse, I’m sure you’ll live a long and entertaining life of misery with your friends.”
I want to strangle Pete with my bare hands.
But I glance at my watch instead.
The face’s cracked, and time’s stopped.
And Pete says, “Before I act the hero and save the world, you need to give me a little tit for my tat. That’s only fair. I want you to prove you’re gonna be a loyal and obedient pet from now on. You have 5 minutes to convince me. So start begging, bitch.”
At that, Cicely looks up at Pete with:
1. Fury in her forehead.
2. Grim passion in her eyes.
“No,” she says, soft and strong, at the same time. “You’re going to lift all our curses, and then you’re going to release us.”
Pete’s smirk fades away.
And the relief I feel almost floods out of me in tears.
Maybe we won’t survive this, but at least now I’m sure:
1. Cicely’s still Cicely.
2. Yesterday was only an act.
At the time, of course, I wasn’t 100% positive Cicely was still fighting for us.
But I hoped she was banking on the idea that Pete wouldn’t want her to commit suicide.
Because he’d want to kill her himself.
So I decided to play along.
And I hoped Pete would be more willing to negotiate if 2 of us were ready to die.
Finally, Pete:
1. Snaps out of his stasis.
2. Smiles again.
3. Says, “I hate to be a negative ninny, but I have to say, you’re not off to a great start. You should consider taking off your top and licking the floor. Otherwise, you might run the risk of alienating your audience.”
“I’m not going to demean myself for you,” Cicely says.
“Yes, you will.”
“I’m not your plaything, Peter.”
And Pete:
1. Says, “Yes, you are!”
2. Points his finger at her face, as if he can destroy her with a single touch. Maybe he can.
Then she:
1. Says, “It’s over, hon.”
2. Reaches out.
He:
1. Pulls his hand away.
2. Takes a step back.
3. Folds his arms over his chest.
4. Says, “Are you fucking crazy? Do you have any idea what I’m gonna do to you if you keep pissing me off?”
“Torture, murder,” Cicely says. “Is that the long and short of it?”
“Yeah. The worst kind of torture imaginable. So if you value your life, you better start making me happy.”
“I’m not respon
sible for your happiness, hon. But I am responsible for mine. And that means not putting up with your games anymore. I’d rather face the consequences of defying you.”
“Then you really are nuts.”
“Nuts or not, I’m tired of living my life in fear. You can abuse me, Peter. You can take your feelings out on me. But I’m not going to sacrifice my self for you anymore. And it’s not just you I’m taking about, hon. Before you, there was John, and my ex-girlfriend Mary, and my parents. I’ve spent over 40 years of my life keeping constant vigilance over the real Cicely. Making sure she stayed buried deep inside. But she’s risen from the dead now, and like most zombies, she’s not going back in the ground without a fight. So you can either lift our curses and let us go, or you can kill me.”
“Then I’ll kill you.”
Cicely sighs. “You remind me of my husband. At home, he spent most of his time trying to control me. And I usually let him. I’m sure he thought this power over me would make him happy, but it never did. He was a miserable man, just like you.”
“I’m not a man.”
“Whatever you are, I know you feel empty. I know you’re trying desperately to fill that void, and I know you’re not succeeding. The problem, hon, is that you’re going about this the wrong way. But it’s not too late. You can still turn your life around.”
For a while, Pete:
1. Stares at Cicely in silence.
2. Bites his fingernails.
Then, he says, “You think you understand me, but you don’t. You don’t know what I am.”
“It doesn’t matter what you are,” Cicely says.
“It fucking well does! I lost everything, and there’s no getting it back. I’ve tried. This shadow of a life is all I have left.”
At this point, Cicely:
1. Stands.
2. Looks at Pete, eye to eye.
3. Says, “I’ll help you find more.”
“You can’t,” he says, crackles.
“I will.”
And maybe Pete’s finally caught a glimpse of real power in her eyes.
Because he says, “OK.”
Cicely:
1. Reaches out to touch his arm.
2. Passes right through him.
“I’m sorry, Ab,” Pete says. “I don’t think I can do this for you anymore.”
I turn to Abby.
She:
1. Stares at the floor, blushing.
2. Says, “Oh no.”
3. Closes her eyes. And the entire length of chain that runs from the wall, through our leg shackles, to a large ball, turns to dust.
4. Rushes to the stairs.
Cicely and me, we follow her.
Cursed Page 16
