Melancholia

by Elle Casey

  Malcolm let Kootch go, his tone no longer threatening. “No, man. You never did. I’m sorry.”

  Kootch dropped his head and started crying. “Oh god damn that was awful.” He put his arms around himself as if he was hugging his own waist. “Oh shit, that was bad. Fuuuu-uuhhhh—uuuuck!”

  “What?” I asked, moving around Malcolm, pushing him off when he tried to stop me.

  “The darkness,” was all Kootch could say through his sobs.

  I knew what I had to do. It was the only thing I could do. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him hard. “Shhhh. It’s okay. You’re not getting punched anymore.”

  Kootch melted into me. “I don’t want to get punched anymore. I don’t want to get my abs tested anymore.”

  I patted him on the back. “Of course you don’t. That’s child abuse. No one wants to be abused. No one. Dads are supposed to love us, not hurt us.”

  I pulled away before I could juice him up too much with my Rainbow light. “Better?” I asked as he swiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

  He nodded, clearing his throat.

  “Jesus,” said Malcolm, staring first at me and then at Kootch.

  “What dude?” Kootch’s voice was raw. “You never cried in your life? Shit. Real men cry when they see the end of the road, you know?”

  “That’s what you saw?” Malcolm asked, sounding stricken. “The end of the road? Like your life was over?”

  “Hell yeah, that’s what I saw. That’s one hell of a Grim Reaper vibe you’ve got going on there, assmunch.” Kootch took a step back from Malcolm. “Keep your paws to yourself or I’m gonna have to test your abs.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stay away.” Malcolm took a step back from both of us.

  “Don’t do that,” I begged, pretty sure I knew what he was thinking.

  “Don’t do what?” Malcolm was angry.

  “Pull away. Say to yourself that you’re just going to disappear somewhere and leave me behind.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Geez, Rae. Are you a mind reader too?”

  I reached out a hand and put it on his arm. “No. I’m just like you. Remember? We’re in the same boat.”

  “Floating up shit’s creek,” he said, bitterness lacing his voice. He pulled his arm away from my touch, putting his hands deep in his front pockets.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. But I’d rather be in a boat on shit’s creek with you than in one alone.”

  Malcolm’s expression lost some of its anger.

  “Awww, isn’t that sweet?” asked Kootch, walking backwards to his cot. “Totally gagworthy. Do you mind if I sleep? I’m tired as shit, and I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be hardcore. When the big Butts get here, shit’s gonna go down.”

  “The big Butts?” I couldn’t help but smile. Kootch so had a way with words.

  “Yeah. That’s what I call her parents, but don’t tell them I said that.”

  “Too late,” said Jasmine, her image back on the monitor. “I recorded it. Now you are my slave and I am your master, or the Big Butts will hear all about your little nickname for them.”

  “Aw, come on, Butts! That ain’t cool! You can’t record me without my permission!” He threw himself down on the cot, staring at the ceiling again. “Fucking spy kid.”

  “Watch it, slave. You don’t want to displease me.”

  Kootch mumbled something I couldn’t hear before flipping over onto his side, his back to us.

  “What happened with the guy outside?” asked Malcolm. “It looked like Derek.”

  “It was Derek. I just tapped on the window and showed him my gun. He took off running. What is up with that guy? Why’s he all over you, Rae?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, feeling like I was getting accused of something again.

  “Did you tell him anything about your life?” she asked. “Anything about hiding from people or whatever?”

  “No. Never. The first time I ever saw him, Malcolm was with me the whole time. And then we saw him when he picked me up to take me home. That’s it.”

  “From what he and Holder were saying in the bathroom, they already knew you,” Malcolm said.

  Jasmine cut in. “Maybe Holder looked up her old records. Anyway, I’m going to bed. The cops are driving around, but they aren’t getting in here. My parents will be home soon. You guys better sleep too if you want to be ready for tomorrow. Any questions, none, okay then, g’night.” She didn’t wait for a response or a goodbye. She just turned the camera back to the view of the outside. The distinct click that came from the speaker told us she’d turned off her microphone.

  I walked over to my cot and laid down, facing the one next to me. Malcolm took that one and laid down too, turning on his side so he could look at me.

  “Scared?” he asked me.

  “Yeah. A lot.” I wasn’t ashamed to admit that. Not being afraid would be stupid in my opinion.

  “Me too. About level six out of ten. Maybe five being down here.”

  “I’m at eight. It would be worse if I were upstairs, though. I’ve never in my life thought I’d be in a panic room, let alone need one, but I’m sure glad to be in one now.”

  “Trying to sleep over here, if you don’t mind,” came Kootch’s annoyed voice.

  “Sorry,” I said. I shifted to a whisper. “Are you going to run away tomorrow?”

  Malcolm whispered back. “I’m going to wait and see.” He held out his hand, reaching for mine.

  I put my fingers against his, a thrill going through me at the contact. He was so damn cute. “Me too. I’m going to see what Jasmine’s parents say. Maybe they’ll have ideas.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Malcolm gently squeezed my fingers, rubbing them a little with his thumb.

  It was such a simple thing but it filled my heart with warmth. Something special was happening between us. I didn’t know if it was because of the fear and the situation we found ourselves in, or if it was genuine magnetism, the kind that regular teenagers feel when they meet someone they like. But at this point, I didn’t care. When I was safe and no longer running from lunatics, I’d examine everything a little closer. Until that time came, I was just going to enjoy this feeling. This feeling of no longer being alone. Of being touched by a boy because he truly liked me and not because I was tricking him into doing it.

  Chapter Six: Malcolm

  I FELL ASLEEP HOLDING RAE’S hand. The next thing I knew, I was hearing voices in the room that I didn’t recognize. I sat up, completely disoriented. I was on a hard bed that wasn’t a bed, and the space around me looked like a basement somewhere, like a giant supply closet.

  And then the memories of last night came flooding back when I saw Jasmine on the stairs. She was joining two adults at the bottom, and they were all looking over at us.

  Kootch was the first one to speak, sitting up on the cot nearby, down by my feet. “Dude, I’m totally sober wasted right now. I think I overdosed on Ding Dongs.” He rubbed his face over and over, blinking several times slowly when he was done. His hair looked like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket.

  Rae sat up last, saying nothing. She wiped some drool off her mouth and glanced at me, giving me a weak smile before turning her attention to Jasmine’s parents.

  “Rise and shine,” said Jasmine. “Time for breakfast.”

  I stood and tried to straighten my clothes, feeling embarrassed about meeting her parents looking like I did. Her mom and dad were both wearing bermuda cargo shorts and short-sleeved button-down shirts that looked like they’d been triple starched. The creases down their sleeves were sharp and went from elbow to shoulder in a perfect line.

  Mr. Butts walked up to me first. He was sporting a military-style haircut, very short, and he had dark brown hair. His mustache was short and lined up with the corners of his lips. Not one hair of it was out of place. Lean muscles flexed in his arm as he reached out for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, son. I assume you’re Malcolm.”

>   I shook his hand, trying to be firm enough about it to avoid getting my knuckles crushed. His hand made me think of a steel trap, impossible to escape until he was ready to let me go. “Nice to meet you, sir. Malcolm McNamara.”

  “Which makes you Rae,” he said, letting me go and reaching over to my side. Rae was there and she took his hand. Her tiny hand was like a small child’s compared to his.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Thank you for letting us stay here. We … didn’t know what else to do.”

  “It was our pleasure,” said Mrs. Butts, stepping over to join her husband. I couldn’t tell how long her hair was because it was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her neck, slicked back and shiny. I could see that Jasmine took after her mom. The lady was short, muscled if her legs and forearms were any indicator, and no nonsense. She nodded once at me and smiled at Rae. “I’m glad you were able to make it here before anyone intercepted you. Sounds like it got a little scary there.”

  For some reason, just having Jasmine’s parents there made me feel tons better. Even if I had to walk away from all this and find my way out West, things were going to be okay. These people were experienced military vets. I knew instantly I could trust them. Maybe they’d have some ideas for me about how I could manage my getaway.

  “Yes. You could say scary. Or terrifying.” Rae sounded very nervous. “Have you heard from my parents?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” said Mrs. Butts. “They paid us a visit at seven this morning. We sent them on their way, but if you prefer we can get them back here.”

  “What time is it now?” asked Rae. She was close to tears, I could tell. I took a small step closer to her.

  “Oh-eight-hundred,” said Mr. Butts. “Come on upstairs and we’ll discuss this over pancakes and bacon.”

  Jasmine smiled. “My dad makes the best pancakes in the entire country.”

  “Sweet,” said Kootch, striding over to the stairs. He took them up two at a time. “Bring on the carbs, baby. I’m starving.”

  “I thought you overdosed on Ding Dongs,” said Jasmine, following him up.

  “Hair of the dog, Butts. Haven’t you learned anything hanging out with me?”

  “I don’t hang out with you, Kootch. That only happens in your dreams.” Their voices faded out and disappeared as they left the panic room for the living spaces above.

  “Before we go up, I’d just like to get one thing straight,” said Mr. Butts. His voice and expression were stern. It made me stand up straighter without even thinking consciously about it.

  “Okay,” said Rae.

  I nodded.

  “Whatever is going on here … it’s serious. Don’t kid yourselves into thinking otherwise.”

  Mrs. Butts put her hand on his upper arm. “Babe, you’re scaring them.”

  He didn’t break his gaze away from us. “Good. Let them be scared. It’ll keep them alive.”

  “Alive?” squeaked Rae.

  I reached out and pulled her to me, my arm around her shoulders. Mrs. Butts saw it and nodded very slightly, like she was proud of me or something. My face went red over it. Parents acting proud of me never ever happened.

  “Make no mistake …” He pointed his finger first at me and then Rae. “…People in high places are talking about you. They want you to be brought in. We’re going to do whatever we can to make sure that doesn’t happen, but only if you want our help. We’re not going to force anything on you. You just take this morning to noodle it through and then let us know what you want to do.”

  “Let’s save the rest for discussion over breakfast,” said Mrs. Butts, signaling with her head towards the stairs. “Come on, Rae. You look like you could use some orange juice.”

  “Orange juice sounds great.” She slipped out from under my arm and let Mrs. Butts lead her away by the elbow. Once she reached the stairs she turned to face me, pulling her arm out of Mrs. Butts’ grip. It looked very casual and natural, but I knew she was purposely making sure they didn’t have any more physical contact. Who knew what kind of nightmare we’d be stuck in if either of these two got jacked-up on our mojo. Probably nothing good.

  I moved my right foot to start walking in the same direction, but Mr. Butts put his arm out, blocking my path. “Just one minute more of your time, Malcolm. Humor me.”

  I stepped back, putting some distance between us. His expression was so intense, it was freaking me out. I glanced nervously at the stairs.

  “We’re not going to breakfast?” I asked, wishing Mrs. Butts would turn around and see we weren’t with her. But she and Rae were quickly disappearing up the stairs.

  “I just need to check one thing out before we join the others. Just man-to-man. You and me.”

  Oh, shit. I don’t like the sound of this. I took another half-step back.

  “Don’t run away, I’m not going to hurt you. Jasmine and I had a little conversation upstairs, and I came up with a theory.” He put his forearm out in front of him, his arm bent at a ninety degree angle.

  “A theory about what?”

  “About you and Rae. Come on over here and grab my arm.”

  I shook my head. “No, sir. I’m not going to do that.” My pulse rate picked up and my heart was instantly thumping hard. I wanted to run up those stairs and out of this house and never come back.

  “It’s not a request, young man, it’s an order. Take my arm.” He fixed me with a killer stare. “Do it. I can take it.”

  “I’m not sure you can, sir. Seriously, I don’t want to touch you. Can’t I just go to breakfast with the others?”

  “Scared?” He was taunting me, thinking that would fire me up to whammy him or something. It wasn’t working at all. Now I just felt sorry for him. He had zero clue.

  “I’m scared for you, not for me.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Please. I’m a highly trained, decorated veteran. I served two tours in Iraq and two in Afghanistan, before going over as a private contractor. Grab my arm and then we’ll go to breakfast, okay? Come on, chop-chop, I don’t have all day.”

  I gritted my teeth to keep my angry retort from flying out. Reminding myself that he was just trying to give me a hand and probably couldn’t help but be curious about my curse, I stepped up to stand in front of him. “I really, really don’t want to do this,” I said.

  He nodded once. “Understood. Lay it on me.” He spread his legs farther apart and locked his jaw, the muscles on the side of his face pulsing in and out rhythmically.

  I reached up and hesitated just a few seconds, my hand hovering above his wiry-haired forearm. “Here goes nothing,” I said, lowering my hand and gripping his warm skin. I felt his arm hair under my palm settle between my fingers as I gripped him tighter.

  At first he seemed to be resisting the effects of my touch. Then sweat started beading up on his forehead. He blinked rapidly a few times and his eyes went bloodshot. His head shook once left and then right.

  It was horrible to watch, this grown man trying to fight the inevitable. I started to pull my hand away, but he growled at me. “No! Keep it!”

  I gripped him tightly again, getting pissed I was being pushed into hurting him. As I got angrier, he lost more control of his cool. He was breathing heavily now, huffing out on the exhales.

  I quickly decided that the only way out was to dose him up good and end it before the guy gave himself a stroke or something. I channeled all the energy I could feel inside me and sent it out through my hand and into his arm.

  A second or two later, he pulled away and collapsed on the floor, cradling his arm while crying and moaning. “Ohhhh, Jesus H … oh my wife … my child … oh, what did I do? Please, Jesus save me … save them …” His sobbing was getting louder and more painful-sounding.

  I was desperate, stuck in place with my panic. I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t get near enough to touch him. I knew it would make him worse, and there was a roomful of guns in the other room, not ten feet from where I was standing. Shit! What should I do
?

  “Awful … terrible … pain …” He choked on his own cries. “Kah! God, oh no … why did I do this? What did I do?”

  “Mrs. Butts!” I yelled. I ran over to the bottom of the stairs and yelled as loud as I could. Looking over my shoulder, I could see him curled up in a fetal position on the floor. It looked so wrong, seeing that strong, confident man wallowing in my darkness. I’m a terrible person. Why did I let him convince me to do that? I knew better! I knew better!

  “Mrs. Butts! Jasmine! I need you to come here right now!”

  Running footsteps at the top of the stairs sent a ray of hope into the darkness surrounding us. “Thank God,” I said.

  The first person down was Jasmine. “What the hell? What are you yelling for? You want to wake the entire neighborhood?”

  “I’m sorry, Jasmine, but it’s your dad…” I turned around to gesture at him, but he was gone.

  “What about my dad?”

  “Oh, fuck!” I yelled, jumping off the stairs and running towards the room filled with guns.

  Chapter Seven: Rae

  I WAS JUST PULLING OUT a chair to sit down at the breakfast table when Malcolm’s desperate yells came up from the panic room. At first I thought I was imagining something like a television set left on or a neighbor yelling outside, but it quickly became clear; something bad had happened downstairs.

  I left the table and ran behind Kootch, the last one to make it down the stairs. Everyone was leaving the steps and running towards the back corner of the room, where all the guns and ammunition were kept.

  “What’s going on?” asked Kootch as he jumped to the ground ahead of me, obviously annoyed. “My pancakes are gonna get soggy.”

  Kootch’s pancake problem disappeared in the wake of Jasmine’s screams. As soon as they reached my ears, I got goosebumps over the fear I heard in her voice.

  “Dad! No! What are you doing?! Stop!”

  “Joe, put it down, babe. Please! You don’t want to do this. Please, put it away.” Mrs. Butts was begging her husband; it was awful hearing her so out of control and worried.