by Katie May
To Dad, I said, “Which room is mine?” I plastered a singularly beautiful smile onto my face to further emphasize my point. Colt told me it was a smile that could make even angels fall. And then he proceeded to call me one of those fallen angels, so I couldn’t really take it as a compliment.
“I call the biggest room.” Karissa pranced by me, hands empty of any belongings. Knowing her, she expected us to carry all of her stuff inside. She probably even expected us to set up and decorate her room.
Twelve-years-old and already a little diva.
“You don’t get the biggest room.” I rolled my eyes at her entitlement. I had always told my parents that they were too lenient with the little she-devil, too wishy-washy. She said jump, and they responded with how high. A petty version of myself might've been jealous of the way that they treated her, but I had long since accepted that her cuteness was impossible to defy.
“I call the basement,” Colt called. He slung his duffle bag further up his shoulder while his free hand gripped his familiar black guitar case.
“You don’t get the entire basement,” I snorted. In response, Colt merely flicked my ear.
“I need the space,” he answered firmly.
“What you need is to get your own place and stop mooching off of Dads.”
“Fuck off.”
“Language!” The final member of our family, and the name that the strident voice belonged to, was Papa. A domineering figure with broad shoulders and a rugged beard, Papa was an imposing man. Only his family knew that the giant beast was actually a big teddy bear.
“I can’t get the damn key to work,” Dad grumbled, hand turning the knob ineffectually. Papa took the key from his husband’s hand and gently placed it into the lock. The door swung open instantly.
“Show off,” Dad grumbled, but Papa simply grinned.
Choosing not to listen to the rest of their banter, I took off with a blistering speed towards where I assumed the living room was supposed to be. From Dad’s explanation, there was a large hallway that branched off from this area with a cute room at the end of it. According to Dad, it had a secret door inside of the closet that led to another, smaller room. Apparently, the old owners had been paranoid of a break-in or something of the sort. Why else would they create a hiding place?
I heard the patter of footsteps as Karissa moved on the floor above me. Colt must’ve already claimed the basement, that bastard. Like the prima donna he was, he believed that he needed at least three rooms, a bathroom, and a “studio room” (though I didn’t understand how that differed from the “three rooms” requirement).
“I’m a grown man now,” he had told me on the car ride over. “I need my space.”
"You need your own house,” I muttered for the one-hundredth time.
"I'm getting a job," Colt protested. "And going back to college."
I didn't have a response to that. I had heard the same story thousands of times. He would come up with an excuse not to do any of that stuff, that I was sure of.
The hallway was long and barren, almost eerie in the artificial lighting. I noted, with some satisfaction, a bathroom adjacent to my desired bedroom. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to share with my siblings. Karissa made it a habit to leave her makeup and curling iron on the counter, and Colt was a slob. Laundry room? He hadn't heard of it. No, he apparently believed that the ideal place for dirty clothes was the linoleum tiles of the bathroom.
The door at the very end of the hallway was cracked open. Smiling with anticipation, I pushed it open the rest of the way.
It was small, though I hadn't expected anything else, and devoid of any trinkets or memorabilia. The flooring was a dark, mahogany wood that worked surprisingly well with the beige walls. A single window showed off our neighbor's house, brown siding obscured slightly by the tiny fence.
"I knew you would like this room," Dad said from behind me.
"It's cute," I agreed. It may have been small, but it was positively darling. I already could envision where my furniture would be set up - head of the bed against the wall, dresser beside the closet, my bookshelf in the far corner. It wasn't Chicago, but it would have to do. It would never be my home though. But maybe, just maybe, I could make it livable.
"The movers are bringing in the furniture," he continued. "I was thinking in a couple of hours we could go out to dinner. Check out the town."
He shrugged helplessly and something akin to guilt tore through my chest. My parents tried so hard to be the best that they could be. Moving across the country, getting a new job...they honestly believed that it was the best course of action for their family. I couldn't fault them on that, even though they ruined my life in the process. I knew I was being a brat; I knew that I was making this whole situation harder than it needed to be. I vowed to myself, right then and there, that I would not shed another tear for the place I had left.
No, I only had to wait a year before I could go back. Once I turned eighteen, there would be no stopping me. Jaron and I have already talked about colleges on the east coast. Fiona would want to come too. It would be the three of us, my boyfriend and my best friend, against the world. As it should be.
I smiled wistfully at the fantasy, and my dad, mistaking my smile as acceptance of his proposal, blew out a sigh of relief.
"I'll let your sister and brother know." He paused, fingers clenched around the doorframe. "We love you Camila. You know that, right?"
I smiled at my father warmly.
"Of course I know that. I love you too."
And I did. My siblings may annoy the shit out of me and my dads may be a bit too protective, but they were my family. They were the people I could count on when I thought about succumbing to the darkness. They were my light.
Dropping my boxes onto the floor, I froze suddenly. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as if bolts of electricity were coursing through my skin. My hands turned clammy by my sides.
I knew it was irrational to believe that someone was watching me, yet that pesky feeling wouldn't go away. It was almost as if I was standing on an elevated platform, stage lights glaring down at me. I was aware that there was an audience, but individual faces remained indistinct.
Glancing over my shoulder, I stared out the window. There didn't appear to be anyone in our yard, and I scoffed at how ridiculous I was behaving. Colt's conspiracy theories were finally getting to my head.
Still, the feeling that someone was watching me did not diminish. If anything, it grew.
"Nothing sounds good here," Colt said, glaring at the menu as if his eyes could physically penetrate through it. I rolled my eyes once again at my brother's dramatics.
"Do you have to complain about everything?" I asked.
"Do you have to be such a bitch?" he fired back, earning himself a glare from both of my dads. Dad hated when we swore, especially with what he considered as unnecessary colorful language. I had learned to get quite creative with my use of swear words. It was so fudging annoying. See? Even my mental thoughts were beginning to turn on me.
We had found this restaurant downtown. We had to park at a meter, a couple of blocks away, because there were no opened parking spaces closer to the restaurant itself. Despite the numerous cars in front of the nondescript building, we were able to be seated right away, underneath a bear head.
Yup. You heard me right. A good old bear head, as if Yogi himself was judging what I ate.
The restaurant was, admittedly, cute with a couple dozen wooden tables in the center of the room and a long bar opposite the door. The decorations adorning the walls varied from animal heads to dated newspaper clippings. There didn't seem to be a set theme to the diminutive diner, but the overall feel of the restaurant was homey. Comfy.
Our family had only garnered a few stares as we walked by. My dads were holding hands, and us children were trailing behind them.
Karissa, with her rich ebony skin and darker hair.
Colt, with his mane of blond hair and freckled face.
>
And finally, me. Dark hair and tanned skin thanks to my Latino heritage.
For the most part, the town had been friendly. The hostess had asked my parents how long they have been together, the waitress discussed how beautiful us children were, and a couple patrons at the bar commented that they had never seen us before.
"We don't get a lot of tourists here," one of them stated.
"We know everybody in this town," said another.I snorted at his small-town logic.
They seemed thrilled to discover that Papa was joining the police force and Dad got a job teaching at the college a few towns over.
"I'm a deputy," one of the younger men said, extending a hand. "The name's Rick."
It wasn't bad. Not at all. One of my biggest fears was the bigotry of a small town. We would be judged, shamed, cast aside. It had happened once before. Instead, nobody batted an eye at my parents' marriage and their choice to adopt multiracial children. My respect for the town grew significantly.
Our food arrived, and I practically salivated at the crispy chicken wrap on my plate. I liked food. A lot. Could you blame me? Chocolate and fried chicken and everything in-between.
Fiona would often get on my case about my eating habits.
"Seriously?" she would say, lip curling in disgust. "Do you want to get fat?"
Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly vulnerable, I would listen to her. Other times, I would tell her to piss off.
"How's the cheeseburger?" Papa asked Colt. My brother was picking apart his dinner. Bread on one side of his plate, patty on the other. His nose was scrunched up as if the food was emitting a particularly pungent smell.
"I'm not hungry," Colt mumbled. The poor sandwich had been brutalized by my brother's repetitive knife slashing.
"Why did you order it if you weren't going to eat it?" I snapped. He did this shit every day. I had long since stopped asking what went through that crazy head of his."Is it because you're afraid the government is going to poison you? Is that it? You don't trust the meat?"
"When you die, and I live, then we can talk."
"So are beers and chips the only food items not contaminated by the government?"
Colt merely glared at me.
After a few more bites of my wrap, I poked Papa on the shoulder.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I said, waiting for him to slide out of the vinyl booth. Karissa, who was sitting on a chair at the end of the table, smiled innocently up at me.
"Do you have to go poop or pee?"
My sister was a real classy bitch.
"Don't be gross," I said, ruffling her hair.
"I'm honestly curious!"
"That's a demented thing to be curious about," Dad pointed out. Karissa huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Bodily fluids interest me. Is there something wrong with that?"
Papa's face had turned green.
Dad patted the back of Papa's hand sympathetically. If there was one thing that could make the monster man squeamish, it was talk of pee and periods and all that fun stuff.
A useful weapon in my arsenal, if I did say so myself.
I made my way to the bathroom quickly, did my business, and washed my hands. Frowning, I considered myself in the restaurant's dirty mirror.
I was short for my age, almost embarrassingly so. It made my petite frame seem almost childish. My hair was an onyx black, hanging down my back in light waves. I wasn't model-thin like the other girls. A slab of fat made my belly protrude over the waistband of my jeans. Not skinny. Not completely fat.
Not beautiful.
Not ugly.
Average.
I frowned at the face reflected back at me, hating every flaw on my brown skin and every tangle in my long hair. Why couldn't I have looked like Fiona? White and blond and skinny?
Beautiful.
Why couldn't I be beautiful?
I pushed aside the self-doubt and quickly dried my hands. My psychiatrist told me that I couldn't allow my thoughts to sink back into such dark territory. There wasn't a switch that I could just flip off, though. It took considerable effort to smother some of the darker thoughts and find my way back into the light. It was like tumbling through a riptide, my depression. I would sink beneath wave after wave of endless darkness, desperate to find a pocket of fresh air. Once I found it, mercifully, I would be pulled back under yet again. The water would carry me further and further away from the shore, away from the light. I needed to stay above water.
I needed to stay in the light.
I decided to think about school instead as I headed back to the table. Anything to distract myself from the current direction of my thoughts.
I would be going to a new school. Was I nervous? Excited? What would Jaron think if-
My thoughts were interrupted as my body collided with a wall. At least, I thought it was a wall. My anger quickly transformed into horror when I met the amused smirk of a handsome man.
His hair was dark, a few shades lighter than my own, and he had lightly tanned skin. Unlike mine, his skin color seemed to be a product of sunlight, not genetics. He wore a black jacket, tight over his muscles, and a white shirt that accentuated his chiseled chest.
"You made her speechless Ty," a feminine voice said with a chuckle. A chorus of laughs greeted her statement.
I tore my gaze away from Tall, Dark, and Sexy and faced the table that the voice had come from. There were about six of them - two girls and four guys. They all wore similar, black jackets with skulls on the back and had numerous piercings adorning their skin. It was the girl with the lilac hair that had spoken.
"I'm sorry," I sputtered.
"Oh look," the man I bumped into drawled lazily. "It speaks."
The group broke into another round of laughter.
Feeling tears spring to my eyes, accompanied by the irresistible urge to run away as fast and as far as I could, I shouldered the stranger out of my way. Ty, I think the girl said his name was.
"She's so cute!" the second girl said. "Look at her waddle."
Ty, coming to stand beside me, mimicked the way I walked, hips swaying side to side in exaggerated movements. My face burned red. I had dealt with bullies when I was younger, but they had stopped after I befriended Fiona. The girl had a way of innately demanding respect and fear from anyone dumb enough to stare directly at her. Once I began dating Jaron? Nobody would dare even speak my name badly behind my back, let alone to my face. It was the type of power that both terrified and enthralled me. I felt as if I had the world at my fingertips. Were those feelings healthy? Normal? Sane? I wouldn't be able to tell you. All I knew for certain was that I wished Fiona was with me now. She would know exactly what to say, what witty retort to come back with. I was inadequate compared to her; I couldn't face my monsters alone.
"It looks as if she's going to cry!" Lilac girl squealed. "Aw. Poor baby."
Ty stopped moving almost immediately and turned towards me.
"We were just teasing you."
"How dare you?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a flick of my wrist.
"How dare you stand there and tease me? Does that make you feel manly, teasing a girl half your size? Does it make your flaccid dick suddenly hard?" Hissing, I took a step closer to him until we were nose to nose. "You are an asshole. I don't even know you, yet I can tell that. Grow up. Or take Viagra to fix that little problem of yours."
"Wait!" he called.
Ignoring him, I made my way back through the dining room and to my family. They were currently in a heated debate about the effectiveness of stools in the bathroom. Apparently, Colt believed that by elevating your feet when you were pooping, it would make said poop come out easier.
My brother was a strange man.
Papa's eyes zeroed in on my face immediately. He had always been the most perceptive of my family members.
"You okay?" he asked, eyes scanning the room as if looking for any potential danger. I bit my lip, debating whet
her or not I should tell him about the rude teenagers. I decided quickly against it.
I would probably never see them again after today. People were dicks, especially kids. Besides, I didn't want my fathers to know that their words and teasing had affected me. They would ship me off to the nearest hospital if I so much as described the darkness I could feel brewing inside of me. The dark, inky tendrils that threatened to consume me whole.
I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the rest of my meal.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Other Books by Katie May
Acknowledgments
About the Author
First Chapter of Darkness We Crave!
First Chapter of Gangs and Ghosts!
