Sunshine Bleeds A Black Edge (The Wild Things (standalone) Book 3)

by A. Wilding Wells

  Ruby’s hospital room is flooded with flowers. So many flowers that Monday Rose is losing her shit daily. Monday is the only person who won’t talk to Ruby. The doctor keeps telling us to include Ruby in conversation because she may hear us. He wants us to share stories with her. But Monday has refused to include her at all.

  I think she’s grieving the idea that Ruby might never wake up, but in her grief, I give her credit. She’s trying to reach the rest of us. Even Etta is touched by Monday’s new compassion. It’s almost like Ruby’s accident has softened Monday. Impermanence has a way of doing that. Not that Monday hasn’t seen her fair share of death. Opal, then Lenny not long after from a heart attack. And, now, Ruby’s situation. Sometimes I think she’s going to say something to Ruby’s still form, but then all she does is walk to her side, whisper to the deads, then slump into a chair next to Ruby’s bed.

  Etta, Monday, and Rifle disband for coffee, and here I sit consumed with Ruby. Everything’s haunting me. Her shine and sparkle. Her laugh. Her emerald eyes, which she hasn’t opened in so long that it makes me ill. The darkness she was hiding in, shadows she couldn’t move past. And where is my Ruby now? Where is she hiding?

  “Rebel?” Etta pokes my shoulder. “I brought you coffee.”

  “Thanks.” I drag my fingertips down my jaw. Jesus. I don’t remember the last time I shaved. “Rifle okay? Did he go home?” I take the coffee from Etta, yawn, and sniff the full-bodied scent, amazed one of my senses isn’t numb.

  “Rifle is fine. He’s going to Bubble’s house. Monday is down in the chapel with Father H. I’m amazed she doesn’t sleep down there.”

  We both chuckle. A rare thing these days.

  Etta dusts the hair off my forehead, her worried gaze dancing across my face. “Are you okay?”

  “As long as she’s breathing. But take me to the river and shoot me if she dies. Because I will not survive her.”

  “Rebel, please don’t.” Etta drags a chair next to mine and sits.

  “You think I’m kidding?”

  “I think you’re terrified you’re going to lose her, yes. But you will go on. God forbid she doesn’t pull through.”

  I shoot off my chair and stomp to the other side of the room. “We’re not having this conversation.”

  “It’s been two weeks. It’s better to talk about it than not.”

  “The hell it is. I’m holding on to hope. It’s all I’ve got.”

  “You’ve got me too.” Etta comes to my side and begins rubbing my back. “And you’ve got Rifle.”

  “And I’ve got Ruby!” It’s a shout. An angry, we’re-not-putting-her-in-the-grave shout. “I’ve fucking got her and I’m not losing her… I’m not…” And then I’m on my knees. A force kicked my legs out from under me.

  Weeping like a child, I’m hunched over, trying to stop the feeling that she may never come back to me. She may need to have the plug pulled. Jesus, help me.

  The hospital door creaks open, and I look up to Monday, who’s staring back at me. Her face crumples when she holds her hand out. I grip her shaking fingertips and stand. She might be going through something harder than I am now.

  “Rebel. Promise me you’ll take good care of her.”

  “Of course I will. You say it like you’re leaving.”

  She hugs me. Monday Rose isn’t known for showing any sort of affection, so the hug knocks me flat.

  “Monday, what’s going on?”

  “I need to speak to Ruby alone.” Tears coat her face, and she weeps. “I told Ruby I was proud of her earlier, might have been the first time I told my daughter those words. And I now I have some more confessions to share with her.”

  Chapter 48

  Rebel

  Etta and I leave Monday alone with Ruby so she can make her confessions. Not that we have an inkling what she might want to confess. But she was dead serious about something. So serious that Etta starts chattering like a squirrel on crack the second we exit the room.

  “Rebel. We should sit.”

  “I don’t want to sit. Let’s keep walking.”

  “Walking? Okay, fine. I can do this. Walk.”

  “What are you so goddamned nervous about all of a sudden?”

  She wraps a hand around my bicep with a death grip. “I need a cigarette.”

  “You haven’t smoked since you were Rocket. The fuck’s going on?”

  “Maybe a drink too. Let’s walk to the bar across the street.” Etta struts in marathon mode ahead of me like she’s chasing after her lifeline.

  I jog and catch up to her, planting myself in her way. “Are you literally ill? It’s ten in the morning and you want a smoke and a drink?”

  “Liquid courage and then some,” she answers, pushing me aside, marching on.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  Upon arriving at the bar, we order drinks, and I go along with the whole shebang because Etta looks like she’s about to barf. After one martini, two cigarettes, and more silence than I can take, she speaks.

  “I heard her yell. Then I saw them out there. I begged Dick to let me help her, but he barricaded the door.” She dabs her eyes with the soaked cocktail napkin. “They would have found out about us…and, worse, about him. He couldn’t… It would have ruined his career and his life.”

  I love her. But, right now, and after what she’s told me, I may strangle her. My hands form a circle in my lap, my fingertips pressed so hard together that my nails cut into my skin.

  “His life?” I crash a hand on the table between us. “His fucking life? Where is that motherfucker? I’m going to kill him. I am going to hunt him down and gut that cocksucker then bury him in the sewer.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone? You loved the devil? I’m gonna be sick.” I want to believe all love is on the right side. But I’m having doubts.

  Then it crosses my mind. Had Ruby confessed to their murders, I would have kept on loving her. People can do a world of wrong and there will still always be someone who loves them. There is a lover or a mother or a father to each of those people, and still…though that person has committed the unforgivable and heinous, they will be loved by at least one person.

  “I loved the devil, yes.” Etta lights her third cigarette, her eyes rimmed in red, her cheeks sunken low like a basset hound. Sad as fuck. Maybe as sad as I am pissed. “He lost too. Lost both his boys,” she says, staring at her unsteady hands.

  “He committed a crime. They all did. They deserved to die.”

  “I did too. But I couldn’t get to them, and then I said nothing. Dear God. I said nothing. The guilt ate me inside out. I did the wrong thing, and then it felt too late.” She reaches across the table, her shaky hand edging toward mine.

  “Have you ever done something like that?” she asks. “It’s a horrible feeling to know you could have helped someone and you didn’t for fear of your own situation.”

  I don’t answer her. Instead, I ask the unthinkable. “Did you kill them?”

  Chapter 49

  Ruby

  Mom has been crying for the longest while. And, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I see her. Unless I’m imagining it. One second, I was trying to form words to tell her to stop bawling. The next, I’m focusing in on her shuddering form.

  Maybe she thinks I’m dead. But I wouldn’t be seeing so many things if I’d died. Except the flowers? And I’m lying on something so soft and white that I’m creeped into believing it’s my coffin. I’m dead?

  Now, I can tell her what happened too. Wow. I had no idea being dead would feel so real. All of my senses are intact. But no question, I’m dead. And hungry. How the fuck am I hungry?

  I open my mouth to speak, and like magic, Rebel and Etta come into focus at the end of the bed, a small painting of Jesus hanging on the wall between them.

  Rebel is crying. Etta is crying. Mom is crying. And I haven’t said a word. The only one who seems to hear me now is Mom. For once, I’m thrilled she talks with the deads.


  “Mom, tell Rebel the Kline boys raped me so he doesn’t hate me forever and think I cheated. Tell him I’m sorry I died and took away our future. Tell him I love him more than I loved myself and it’s why I couldn’t tell him.”

  “Ruby!” Rebel practically throws himself on me.

  This dead thing is wild. I can even feel him touching me. Unless my powers are greater than other deads? I wonder if Opal can feel people touching her too? This might be weirder than anything I’ve ever been through.

  The explosion escalates. Etta yells for doctors and nurses. And Mom screams about miracles one second. Then she’s condemning the Kline boys the next and calling for Lenny seconds afterward. There is so much commotion that I’m a little freaked out. And, when the doctor shines a light in my eyes, I scream, telling him to fuck off before he blinds me. Then I ask Mom why she hasn’t told Rebel that they raped me. The room goes dead silent.

  Death is noisy and quiet. Interesting.

  “Am I the only one of the deads you can’t fucking hear? Ma! Tell Rebel what they did to me. Tell him they raped me.” Maybe she didn’t hear me before.

  “Ruby.” Etta’s face is so close to mine I can smell her minty, alcohol-soaked breath.

  This concerns me because, when I start rotting from the inside out, I’m going to smell that stench. Maybe the deads would be better off without their senses.

  “Ruby, honey,” Etta says. “He knows because I was there.”

  Chapter 50

  Ruby

  “You were what?” I ask.

  Dear God, who is your ruler? Satan? Is the master of hell guiding your true north? I’m convinced God and the devil are in it together as of this very moment. My hands travel to my heart then my neck, my pulse flying at Mach speed, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure it’s going to burst through my rib cage.

  “I’m going to throw—” I twist, and as I do, Rebel slides a plastic container right where I need it.

  He wipes my mouth with something then sternly addresses everyone. “Guys, let’s give her a moment. This is too much.”

  “No, this is not too much… This is too late... Tell me.”

  “I was there,” Etta says. “I couldn’t get to you. Couldn’t save you.”

  “Am I in Hell?” I ask.

  “Ruby.” Rebel inches his face close to mine. His bloodshot, fatigued eyes flood with tears.

  “Rebel? Is this real? Am I dead or alive?” I reach up to touch him, certain my fingers will push through his skin like he’s made of air.

  “Alive.”

  That one word is a prayer wrapped in distress, the whole thing dipped in hope and joy.

  “You’re alive, sweet thing.”

  Etta’s form comes into focus, her face consumed with remorse. The lines on her forehead and the wave of her eyebrows undulate as she speaks softly. Slowly. Each syllable marked with discomfort.

  “I was locked in the janitor’s office with Dick Kline, he and I in our”—she looks around the room then pinches her neck skin in a twist—“ladies underwear.” She shutters out a small cry then stands tall, wiping tears. “He blocked me from opening the door… There wasn’t a thing I could do. But I should have after. All I could do was gather up the ring and necklace and crosses when everyone left. I was in shock. I’m sorry I failed you. All of you. I committed a crime too.” She hangs her head, her face cupped in her palms as she moans.

  Her angst wraps around my deepest wounds. The scars no one has been privy to. My thoughts are scattered. I’m furious. I’m other things too… I just can’t pin a name on them yet.

  “And you killed them?” I can’t focus on what happened that night. It’s done. But, finally, I’m face-to-face with answers. I’m able to connect dots. Some.

  “No,” she says. “But I know who did.”

  A whoosh of anxiety whirlwinds from my lungs. Why do I need to know? I can’t change history. What will it bring me? Comfort? Peace? Anguish? My morbid curiosity is uncontainable.

  “I did it,” Mom says.

  Every ounce of air sustaining my lungs leaves.

  “You’re lying.” Etta’s aggressive tone scores everyone’s attention. “It’s very noble of you to protect him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mom glares at Etta.

  “I know damn well what I’m talking about,” Etta answers.

  “He’s not capable of understanding.”

  “Echo?” I ask. God, this is hell. “Echo killed them? Ma?” My throat burns. I need something... Water, air…

  “I’m going to jail to pardon his sins. I have a rumor and it’s time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Etta asks. “Get ahold of yourself. You’re going to scare Ruby.”

  “A rumor!” Mom yells. “In my head, been there for twenty years.”

  “A tumor?” I ask as bile crawls up my throat.

  The room spins slowly at first. Everyone floats in and out. I ask them to stop moving. The tunnel shrinks. Tumor? Oh God. I trace my cracked dry lips with a finger.

  “You’re going to die?” I whisper.

  “I’ll be with Lenny and Opal and the worm buffet. We’ve been talking all about it.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you going to jail or are you dying?”

  Chapter 51

  Rebel

  I threw everyone out of Ruby’s room after she fainted. We’d collectively barfed a hell buffet on her until she’d passed out. I fucking thought we’d killed her. And then I nearly killed Monday Rose for her inexplicable drone of nonsense.

  “Ruby, sweet thing.”

  Her eyelids flutter along with my heart.

  “Rebel,” Ruby whispers. Her hoarse voice matched with her furled brow weighs on me. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Baby, we don’t need to talk about anything right now. Just rest.” I kiss her palm then draw circles there.

  When she squeals, and pulls her hand away, I know she’s coming around. And I don’t let her pull away. From here on out, she’s all mine. Every piece of her. Her past. Her pain. Her healing. Her future. God, what she’s been through. A lifetime of hell.

  “I’m still alive?”

  “Alive and kicking.” My eyes well up when she touches my lips and traces her fingertips across my face like she’s double-checking her thoughts. “Almost lost you.”

  “You could never lose me. You never will.” Her eyes twinkle, melting my resolve. “My mom?” Her fingers wrap around my wrist.

  Everywhere on her rail-thin form, spaghetti-like tubes crisscross. My sweet thing. They tried to ruin her, but she made it through an abyss, and here she’s asking about someone else. She made it through a netherworld and tried to protect me while she was getting eaten alive by my accusations and her guilt. I wish I had known. What a twisted fucking nightmare.

  I want to dial time back and rescue her. I want to jam my hand through a black hole and run to her. And I want to thank the one man who took those fucks out. Thank him for serving justice where it never would have been served. Was it wrong he took the law into his hands? Yes. But, sometimes, wrong feels right. Sometimes fate hunts ugly and torches it with pure morality. Eat it, you fucks. You’re six feet under. And she’s sunshine through a blizzard. She can survive anything after them.

  “Is she in jail? Is she okay?” Ruby’s a rambling jumble of questions.

  All I want to do is soothe her, and all she wants are answers. Understandably.

  “No one is going to jail, baby. She was stressed out and kind of lost her shit. Got confused. Typical Monday.”

  Ruby’s eyelids droop. “She might be crazy, but I love her,” she whispers.

  Yeah. I get it. Family can be batshit crazy, all right. But, still, you love ’em. Still you root for ’em. Still, you pray in your silent hours, the ones when you can’t sleep or wake, that they’re okay.

  “I heard her talking to me. I don’t know when, but she said she was proud of me.” She nods, and a lazy smile finds her lips along with t
ears. “She’s never told me that before. How long does she have with this tumor thing? I need to talk to her doctor,” she says like she’s the band leader and ready for action right damn now from her hospital bed.

  “Beat you to it. She let me have at her doc.” I lean over and kiss her on the forehead.

  Her whole demeanor relaxes.

  “First,” I say, “she’s okay. Has had this tumor in her head for years. It’s not gonna kill her. It’s just pressing on things that make her a little off. The word mix-ups, talking to Lenny…”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah. No shit.”

  Ruby grabs fistfuls of my T-shirt and pulls me toward her, my lips pressing to hers when I arrive.

  “I love you,” I tell her softly. “I fucking love you. Have always loved you. You’ve been my little Red Hot since that first day we met in shop class.”

  “Still?” she says, her eyes glittering. Is it hope and confirmation? Or relief? Both, I imagine. “With all you know about everything?”

  “More. Didn’t think that was possible. I’m so sorry, baby. So very sorry I never showed. Everything is my fault.”

  “No. Don’t do that. I can’t feel guilt for your guilt. That’s too much. It’s why I hid it. It’s why I ran. Part of it, anyway.”

  “I know. And I was so mean to you when you came home.” I trace a line down the side of her face, her porcelain skin perfect and unmarred.

  Ruby grabs my shirt and tugs me to her, our foreheads meeting. “Yeah, nice work on that. You were a primo dick. But don’t quit your day job.”

  My girl. I kiss her hands. Her chest. Her hidden pain, guilt, and remorse. I kiss her hoping my kisses hold healing power. More than anything, I need her to know she is loved. She’s loved no matter what. Everyone, no matter what they’ve gone through or done, deserves love. Hard as it is to say, it’s true. Pain causes some to hide. It causes others to be cruel. I never understood the power of it, but I’m beginning to grasp fragments.