Falling For A Monster

by Delilah Hunt

  A booming voice from above called out to them. “Hey, is anyone down there?” A bright light beamed into the hole. Chase jumped away from Larke. Peering down at them was a man with a thick beard, wearing a silver badge.

  “Jesus Christ,” the man muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t worry kids. I’ll be back in a second.” Behind him, a woman could be heard asking the sheriff if he wanted the rope.

  From that point on, everything else happened in a whirlwind. After the sheriff and his officer freed them from the sinkhole, still shivering and dripping wet, Chase watched as Larke, also shivering and soaked, slowly reached around her neck and unclasped her necklace. She held out her trembling hand. “I want you to have this.”

  He gaped at her, knowing fully well they were being watched. The sheriff knew who he was because moments ago the man had asked him if he was Joseph Butler’s grandson.

  Chase shook his head. ‘I don’t want it.”

  “Maybe you will,” she insisted. “I go to Heron Glades Elementary School. Miss Allen’s fourth-grade class. Keep it and let me know when we can be friends, okay?”

  Because he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the sheriff and the policewoman, Chase took the necklace and shoved it into the pocket of his soaking wet jeans. He gave her a fleeting glance as the policewoman helped her into the car. Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Chase turned to the sheriff, pushing Larke from his mind. What she was obviously still too stupid to understand was, the day of ‘friendship’ she was hoping for would never come. What happened to them—being so close together, along with his decision to reach for her hand in what he’d assume was one of their final moments—was a mistake. An abomination, a word he’d recently learned from his Bible studies. A big one, that he would never, could never let his family find out about. As far as he knew, he’d been trapped inside that sinkhole all by himself.

  1

  

  Larke was on a winning streak. Well, she was supposed to be on a winning streak. And it would’ve been fine, if she didn’t have to deal with Kevin her date, finding any and every excuse to put his hands on her. Mainly on her bottom. Still…not even Kevin and his fast hands could kill her happiness.

  Agreeing to her friend Riva’s suggestion of an evening out bowling had been as much about spending time together as kicking back and celebrating the green light she’d received to continue her successful Little Badger children’s book series.

  Larke stood, taking note of Riva’s boyfriend Jason attempting some sort of super bowling maneuver that he claimed was guaranteed to deliver a strike. When the stunt utterly failed and he ended up flat on his butt, she threw her head back and laughed, even harder as Jason scrambled to get back on his feet while trying to play it off like nothing happened.

  “That’s funny, Larke?” he asked, playfully scolding her. She grinned and raised her hand, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. Larke paused in mid-action, suddenly realizing she was the only one grinning. She became all too aware of the eerie silence that fell across the floor. Puzzled, she noticed Kevin shaking his head in disgust. She followed his gaze and stopped.

  Oh. Now she understood. A sliver of dread wedged itself in the pit of her stomach. Standing in front of the clerk’s desk was a man. A monster actually, though not in terms of possessing an ugly face. No. This was something else. Something that sickened her and represented so much that was wrong in the world today.

  Even worse, his attention was centered on her and her friends. Mostly her. Because she was the darkest? Laughing too loud? Fear skidded across her skin and burrowed deep. And yet…she couldn’t help but stare the way rubberneckers did while annoyingly holding up traffic.

  Just look away. She couldn’t. A bevy of emotions compelled and paralyzed her, leaving her with no choice but to look at him. The man was tall, much taller than the clerk who was the same height as her five feet six inches. Dave–the clerk stood and his head barely reached the top of the other man’s wide chest.

  But it wasn’t this guy’s height that stood out or the way his body appeared to be carved from solid rock. No, it was the horrible, disgusting tattoos covering the length of his bare arms. On one hand, Larke and just about anyone else who took a close look, could make out the words, ‘White Pride’ inked vertically and stopping at his wrist. Further down, on the back of that same hand was the Celtic cross, which she recognized as a symbol of racial hatred. It ran all the way down then tapered off into curved lines that laced toward the edge of his knuckles. From what she could see of his other hand, it was also covered in tattoos. No doubt, those were racist symbols too.

  Beside her, Riva nervously asked, “Do you think we should leave? I mean the place is closing soon anyway?” Larke could see the trepidation on her friend’s features and understood. Riva was originally from India. It was well known that white supremacists weren’t big on immigrants. Unless they were well, white, she supposed.

  Larke never had the chance to answer her friend. Kevin mumbled his annoyance, “Forget him. We came here to bowl,” he whipped his hand in the direction of the desk, “not stand around staring at some fucked up klan-boy.” He turned to Larke and grinned, seemingly impressed with his remark then slapped her on the bottom.

  This was the third time he’d done so tonight. Fists curled and trying so hard to maintain her composure, Larke gritted her teeth. “I’d like for you to move away from me, Kevin. Because the next time you touch me, I’m not sure if the bowling ball will strike the pins or your head. It could honestly go either way.” She stepped away, counting her blessing that she’d driven here alone and not with him.

  Her game suffered for the rest of the time. Larke wasn’t a big bowler and rarely even went out on dates, but tonight had been going great until her mind became frazzled and dazed. She could no longer focus on the game or enjoy the time away from her apartment.

  Her twenty-two-year-old mind was centered on another time and place. A bad place. When she was nine and deep inside the sinkhole with Chase. They’d spent a cold night huddled together beneath the sweater she’d grabbed from her mom’s car, because her own clothes were scattered or unpacked after the move. Despite so many years gone by, she had never forgotten that angry white boy or the things he’d told her.

  That man could very well be a member of Antebellum Resistance, the hate group Chase’s family belonged to. Maybe he even lived around or in Lee’s Fortress. She’d been there once, driven through it with her mother some years ago. The town had appeared semi-rundown. Neither Larke nor her mother had wanted to venture farther inside the racist community, despite her fanciful dreams of seeing Chase and recognizing him. Why? She hadn’t been sure. Perhaps to see what became of him. To know he’d turned out fine.

  Through the corner of her eye, Larke could see the man exiting the building. The room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Over at the desk, the clerk who earlier appeared to have been on the verge of hyperventilating, issued everyone a tepid smile then pretended to busy himself by shuffling around a stack of paper.

  The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a daze. The relaxing night she’d been looking forward to all day long now felt ruined. Tainted. It was hard to concentrate on the conversation around her in between rounds of bowling. She’d even ended up yelling at Kevin again when he’d accidentally touched her. She hated yelling or being angry. Nothing good ever came of it. Larke was known by the few friends she had as being calm, always happy and trying to keep others around her feeling the same.

  But after the racist guy left, it became almost impossible to pretend any sort of calm. Her mind refused to let go. Kept going back to the evening she’d stupidly taken the wrong city bus after school because the school bus’s route didn’t include her area. Her mother’s schedule as a nurse had been rearranged for that day so the afternoon before they’d gone over exactly what Larke needed to do to get home. At the time she hadn’t thought it a big deal and had been so sure she could handle the short bus ride from th
e school to her house, where she’d wait at an elderly neighbor’s until her mom got home. It all went so wrong.

  Larke sighed, shaking herself from the memory of Lee’s Fortress. She needed her head on right for the drive home. In the hurry to leave the bowling alley, she made it halfway to her car before realizing she’d forgotten her sweater inside. It was a just in case it’s cold sweater. The summer months meant businesses went overboard blasting their air conditioning. A quick run inside and she was able to grab the cardigan from the clerk’s desk.

  For a second, Larke was tempted to ask the clerk—who, thankfully didn’t seem as shaken as he did before—if people like that man frequented the bowling alley. She didn’t. First, she didn’t want to risk the look of terror she’d seen on his face earlier and second, she had absolutely no plans of returning here. If the white supremacist hadn’t been there to bowl like everyone else, she didn’t want to begin contemplating what the other reasons could be.

  Larke made it back outside to the lit parking lot. In spite of being alone, she was relieved to see Kevin had driven off. That had been a disaster, she mused while hurrying to her car. She had almost made it when a figure emerged from behind the corner of the building. Larke froze in her steps. Fear thundered through her. It was the same man from earlier. The white supremacist. Her knees almost buckled as he edged closer to the car and stopped there. Right beside the driver’s side door.

  Nerves and adrenaline pumped through her blood, making her nauseous with it. She’d been so close to going home. So close and tonight should’ve been wonderful, not end with her facing down a monster.

  Why me? Apart from the obvious. Honestly, why her?

  Instincts kicking in, Larke unzipped her handbag and whipped out her phone. She took a careful step backward, then another, all the while contemplating the best exit strategy to safety. Her gaze flashed to the window of the bowling alley. They were closing early tonight and had already started cleaning up when she’d gone inside to retrieve her sweater. Was the door locked? If so, surely they’d open it in response to her frantic banging. She hoped. Prayed.

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage. The man was staring at her as if he had all night to stand and watch her squirm. She tightened her grip around the phone inside her now sweating palm. He stepped forward and her mouth went bone dry. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, a deep timbre. “Put the phone away.”

  Her fingers tightened like steel clamps around the plastic casing. No way. She was no fool. Still, Larke didn’t trust herself to speak or move. Would he kidnap her? Rape her? They both knew if she were to dial for help, it would never arrive fast enough before he was able to subdue her.

  “I–I have money inside my bag,” she said shakily, already dipping a hand into her bag, fishing for her wallet. The sound of her erratic breathing and the pounding of her heart rattled her eardrums.

  “Don’t want your money,” he answered. His blue eyes appeared cold and unrelenting beneath the glare of the light. “Not what I came here for.”

  Her fingers stilled around the wallet at the note of mockery she detected. Her fear amused him.

  He’s going to toy with me and then kill me.

  Larke managed a weak nod. She then shot a furtive glance over her shoulder, making a mental note of the faint light inside the bowling alley. Someone might still be in there. If she made a run for it…

  Preparing to do just that, she drew in a muted breath and held it in as her tormentor opened his mouth. His relaxed demeanor showed her the pleasure he took in knowing she had no choice but to stay put and listen to him, and the words he uttered next, confirmed what he truly was.

  “That nigger you were standing next to in there.” He jerked his head toward the bowling alley. “You screwing him?”

  Her mind went blank. It had been one thing knowing he was a white supremacist based on his tattoos, but to hear those actual hateful words. Her head and heart began to ache all at once. How was she supposed to react to this? If she lashed out or tried to lecture, surely it would send him into a rage with her being on the receiving end.

  Larke swallowed hard, forcing air into her lungs. A thought struck her. Maybe she was simply caught up in something Kevin did. If so, she wanted no part of it. “If this is about Kevin, you need to know we’re only friends. If even. We had a few classes together at the community college, but that’s all. I really don’t know much else about him, if you thought I had information to give you.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you fucking him? Yes or no?”

  Larke gaped, nearly stumbling on her shock. Was he serious? He was staring at her intently. So apparently, he was. She shook her head. “No.”

  He relaxed his stance, seemingly satisfied with her answer. Larke bit the inside of her cheek, silently praying he’d leave now and allow her access to her car. The man held firm, not budging an inch. He scraped a long finger against his square jaw, scratching in a distracted manner while holding her hostage within his sight.

  Against her better judgment, Larke took the time to study his appearance. Despite his terrifying demeanor, he looked young. His eyes were a deep shade of blue and his light brown hair was cut short but not buzz cut low. If she had to guess his age, she’d peg him to be in his mid-twenties. Not much older than herself.

  Once again, Larke cast a furtive glance at the bowling alley. Her heart sank at the unexpected darkness. All the lights were now off. Taking a chance, that maybe just maybe, this guy had gotten whatever information he’d wanted from her, she asked nicely. “Can I get to my car, please? My parents are waiting for me. If I don’t get home soon, they’ll start to worry and come searching for me.” God, how she wished her mom was actually alive and waiting for her.

  “Your father’s waiting for you too?”

  Larke grimaced. Of all the questions... She tried not to flinch and continued staring at him, wondering if he’d recognized her for the awful liar she was. Taking a deep breath, she doubled down. “Yes, my father too.”

  His lips curled into a smirk. “I thought he lived in Missouri.”

  In that moment, her heart skidded to the center of her throat. She squinted her eyes. What? That single word was the only thought her mind could frame because impossible as it was, time itself no longer mattered. Felt as if it had been erased.

  Larke stared at the man in front of her. She pushed her fear from earlier to a far recess of her mind then allowed herself time. Time to survey this racist who had cornered her outside the parking lot of a fucking bowling alley. She searched his eyes and his features. She analyzed even his voice, hearing him inside her head in a way she’d never thought to before.

  Not much older than myself.

  She heard her younger self talking, trying to figure out the boy who refused to acknowledge her presence beside him. “Why do you have that knife? You’re just a kid. Not much older than myself. I bet you took it from your daddy and he doesn’t know.”

  Feeling like a first-class idiot, she dared to ask a question for which she already knew the answer. “How do you know where my dad lives?”

  Awaiting his reply, Larke scoured her gaze on him. This couldn’t be Chase. It couldn’t be him, her mind screamed. The tattoos… Placed right there on his arms for the world to see his hate and true colors. Please let this be a joke. A mistake. She didn’t want this sick individual who had used an evil slur to describe Kevin and had outright demanded to know about her sex life, to be the boy she knew. This was not how Chase was supposed to be. Not the way she’d imagined him.

  Over the years, he should’ve realized racism was wrong. Maybe even talked to his family about it and… And nothing. Larke shook her head, feeling foolish, disappointed and heartbroken. No wonder he’d never tried to contact her. He hated her for the one thing she’d had no control over. Her race.

  Seconds ticked by without an answer from Chase. It didn’t bother her. His answer no longer mattered. She loosened her fingers aro
und the phone, vaguely aware of it slipping and falling into her bag.

  “You’re not gonna try and run?” He eyed her with suspicion.

  Larke shook her head weakly. “No.” She felt weak. Shell-shocked. “I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I ran from you. It didn’t do either of us any good.”

  “Sure didn’t,” he muttered, his gaze resting on her face.

  Larke rummaged through her mind for something to say. She was leery and uncertain of where all of this was headed seeing as he’d yet to make a threatening move toward her. She surveyed his hands, which were empty and asked with a hint of sarcasm that was meant to garner a reaction, anything to reveal his intentions. “Did you leave your knife at home this time?”

  His lips slanted into a taunting smile. “I think I can handle you without one.”

  Larke sighed. Everything about him felt like a slap in the face. This wasn’t how it should be. You were supposed to have been my friend, Larke silently yelled. How sad that she was now standing here wondering if he would ultimately harm her once he grew tired of their banter.

  “Chase.” Saying his name felt like an oddity to her tongue, as if he didn’t even deserve to have her acknowledge him with a name. “Is there anything for us to talk about?” She held out her hands, palms up. “In case you haven’t noticed I’m still black. When you insulted Kevin a while ago, you also insulted me.”

  She stood there, patiently awaiting his answer. His attention shifted to across the parking lot and Larke followed, both watching as Dave the clerk spotted them and began scurrying to his car on the opposite end. He was pretending not to have seen them. Her, a black female being harassed by the white supremacist he’d spoken to earlier. Again, her stomach twisted. Didn’t he care that she might need help?