Darkhouse (Experiment in Terror #1)

CHAPTER TEN

The house was empty when we came back in. It was only ten p.m. at this point, but it looked like the boys had gone out somewhere. It was Saturday night, after all.

Even Uncle Al was presumed missing until I found a note he left on the kitchen table: “Gone to play poker at a friend’s house.”

I was absolutely exhausted. Saturday night or not, and all I could think about was going to bed and sleeping for the next couple of days. Only there were a few things we had to deal with first.

Dex and I stood in the dim kitchen looking at each other. It was kind of awkward. Neither of us knew what to do or what to say. I felt like if I tried I would break down in tears. I was bordered with crazy town.

Dex sighed. “Well, I guess I should be going.”

“What? You can’t go!” I couldn’t help but cry out.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s ten. I’ve still got to check in to the motel.”

He couldn’t just leave me alone in this house after everything that happened. I felt the floodgates opening. I turned around and faced the fridge, trying not to blink and trying to control my breath. Dex was the last person I wanted to break down in front of. I wished I had a safety pin in my pocket so I could distract myself with a touch of pain.

“Hey,” I heard him whisper and come closer. I waited for him to put his hand on my shoulder, but he didn’t. He just stood behind me, probably unsure of what to do, which was every man’s response whenever a girl was crying.

But I wasn’t crying. I was desperately trying to not let that happen. I sucked in my breath through pursed lips and regained control of my teasing tears. I was a tough cookie. I just had to suck it up.

I turned around and looked at him. I smiled what must have been a very brave but very fake smile. I knew my eyes were moist and fearful, not matching up with my grin at all.

He was staring at me, not looking as confused as I thought he might be, but curious.

“OK,” I said. “You go check in. We’ll meet in the morning and head back to Portland.”

He took another step closer, those relentless eyes searching mine for something, anything, that would satisfy him.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

No. It wasn’t.

“I’m sorry I ruined your show, Dex,” I said meekly.

He stared at the ground for a second and shook his head. “You shouldn’t apologize. It’s not very becoming of you.” >

He looked up. “Besides, it’s not my show. It’s our show. Everything isn’t lost yet, kiddo.”

Everything isn’t lost yet. Where had I heard that before?

“Say that again?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I could see that he didn’t believe it was nothing, but he let it slide. He looked around.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” he asked. There was no hesitation in his voice.

Of course, I wanted him to stay. I would have asked anyone to stay.

“This will sound stupid,” I began, “but do you mind staying until Uncle Al or the twins get home? You can just hang out here, watch whatever you like, play video games. I’ll go to sleep in the other room. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

I felt bad for asking and for preventing him from checking in. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I can’t even begin to explain what I saw out there. I—”

He took a step towards me, shaking his head. “Don’t. Don’t explain. I want to hear it, but we can discuss it in the morning. And please don’t apologize either. That’s a weakness, not a strength. I don’t need your apology. In fact, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t left your side, so I’m the one who is sorry.”

“Dex, it was dark—”

“And so, anyway, you can see why I don’t mind having to stay here for a few hours.”

“OK,” I smiled. The relief that was pouring through my body was amazing. “Thank you,” I said starting towards the spare room, “and good night.”

“I’ll be here if you need anything,” he called after me.

I paused at the door to the room before closing it behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was still there.

***

The next morning finally arrived after waves of dreamless sleep. I say dreamless because I didn’t remember anything appearing in my dreams but that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t running in a half-delirious, half-asleep state the entire night. Despite being so tired that my body literally could not move an inch once I lay down on the bed, my mind still raced on in a horrific rampage. Flashes of the night, the lamps, the face, the trees, the sweater, the woman on the phone—it all kept swirling through my brain. I had so many questions. Nothing made any sense, which is probably why my brain was still trying to process it at three a.m., even when I wasn’t consciously giving it an ounce of thought.

Needless to say, I did not feel rested at all the next morning. Especially when I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof and a heavy chill in the air. I wished getting out of bed wasn’t an option.

But I had places to go (home, to be precise), though every time I thought about stepping into the warmth and security of my house and seeing my family’s faces, I also had the accompanying feeling of guilt.

Ah yes, me and my guilt. I felt horribly guilty for packing up and leaving this place without accomplishing a single thing. True, I managed to scare the shit out of myself but that would have only been something if I had my camera with me. We would be heading back to Portland knowing the entire weekend was a waste. Worse yet, I felt like it made me look bad and it made my sister’s blog look bad. Who would believe me now that I wasn’t even able to go into the lighthouse again? I had told the world what we were doing and now there was absolutely nothing to show for it. I was going to look like the biggest fool on earth. Not only me, but Dex too.

After I washed up and put on the barest traces of makeup, I stepped into my only other pair of clothes, which happened to be my comfiest: big socks, tapered black yoga pants, a thick, red, long-sleeve tunic, and a wide studded belt. I knew I looked like I was going to a rock concert in the middle of winter but I didn’t care. I just hoped my Docs were dry enough to wear after they had been so waterlogged. It was nice to care about normal things.

I padded my way into the kitchen to see Uncle Al eating cereal at the table. He looked up and smiled.

“Morning! Want some breakfast?”

I shook my head and sat down.

“You look tired. Did you not sleep well?” He sounded concerned.

“I thought I did, but probably not,” I said, then eyed the coffee pot in the corner.

Al followed my eye and got up. “Stay there, I’ll get this in you stat! You are just as bad as me when it comes to coffee, Perry.”

I smiled gratefully. “Was Dex still here when you came in last night?”

“Yes,” he said while pouring me a cup of that gorgeous dark liquid. “He was sitting here and writing in some notebook. He said he didn’t want to leave you with no one else at home.”

He raised his eyebrow over that last sentence. “I suppose that was quite gentlemanly of him. Still think there is something strange about the fellow.”

“No stranger than me.” I shrugged and sipped back my drink. I immediately felt more awake, which of course was bogus since coffee takes about twenty minutes to kick in. Oh, the power of our minds. Something I should keep in mind, considering.

“Did you end up getting it all done?”

I couldn’t help but sigh. “No. We ended up separated. I don’t know where I was...a service road of some sort? In a forest?”

Al shrugged.

I continued, “Anyway, by the time I found Dex again we decided to call it quits.”

“No ghosts?”

I hesitated. “Well. I don’t know. I would like to think my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“You know that lighthouse has a very strange history, Perry. There is a reason I keep it boarded up.”

Intrigued, I examined Al’s face. His sagging eyes were soft but serious.

“Go on,” I encouraged.

He leaned back in his chair. “First of all, I must state for the record that I do not believe in ghosts. But I do believe in evil and I believe evil lives in that lighthouse.”

Uncle Al’s eyes turned the shade of coal. My blood did as well. Evil, in my books, was a million times worse than ghosts.

“You think it is ‘evil’ and you let me go in there?” I exclaimed. “What happened to protecting your favorite niece?”

He shrugged again. “I can’t tell you what you can and can’t do. To you, the idea that it is evil might be as ridiculous as the idea that it is haunted is to me.”

“I don’t even know if it is haunted. That’s why we planned to go back.”

“Whether it is or isn’t to you doesn’t matter. It is evil. To me. You see, the lighthouse was cursed from the beginning. It took forever to build, and a few workers died in freak accidents. And once it was finally ready for operation, the light started malfunctioning. They kept trying but it seemed at least once a week, whatever bulb they put in, it would fail to work after dark.”

I nodded slowly. Just as I had said. I must have read that somewhere; no way is my imagination that good.

“They planned to build a new lighthouse instead, one that was offshore. Not only would the new lighthouse hopefully work better but it wouldn’t get swamped by the fog as often. So the Tillamook Lighthouse just off the beach there was opened. You know of the shipwreck that happened there?”

“I think so.”

“The night before the lighthouse was to be lit for the first time, our lighthouse here failed. For the last time. A ship from Malaysia that was heading up to the Columbia River had crashed into the rocks beneath Terrible Tilly out there. Everybody was thought to have drowned in the wreck, but that wasn’t the case.”

“No?” I asked.

“Well, that officially was the story. But it didn’t explain why the partially burned body of an ethnic woman was found tied to the lighthouse keeper’s bed with strands of kelp.”

I shivered violently, thinking of the charcoal tinges on the bed I saw in the lighthouse. Al stopped and gave me a surprised look. I waved it away and motioned for him to continue.

“The lighthouse keeper at the time was nowhere to be found. It hadn’t really surprised anyone, though. There had been rumors flying around that he had gone crazy here with the isolation. Back then, there wasn’t anything around except for fog and trees. Or maybe he’d been tormented by the ghosts of the people who died building it. Then people started wondering about the supposed curse on the lighthouse. Maybe it had never been cursed to begin with. Maybe he was tampering with the bulbs all along.”

“Sure, but why?”

Al took a languid sip of his coffee. “Many reasons. Attention. Boredom. And maybe he just wanted to see a couple of ships crash and burn.”

“I guess he got his wish.”

“Yes, he did. There had been numerous shipwrecks just off the coast here, but it took a long time for them to stop. They still continued even with Terrible Tilly lit up.”

“Well, if they found a body in the lighthouse, how did they know it came from the ship? I mean, was it even normal to have women on those ships? She was probably a local or something. Caught in some creepy kelp sex game.”

Al looked disgusted at the mention of a kelp sex game. “It wasn’t normal to have women on those ships, but people would be snuck aboard all the time. America, the brave new world, the better life. The body that they found was dressed in foreign clothing and was of Asian descent. So, rumor has it that she must have swam or floated to shore to this lighthouse and tried to find help there.”

I took it all in as much as I could. Things were starting to make sense in the weirdest way possible. Part of me thanked my lucky stars that nothing horrible had happened to me when I was in the lighthouse with Dex. Part of me was more curious than ever to go back and start exploring it all over again. I believe this was a battle between the rational part of my brain and the crazy part of my brain. I hoped my rational part would win.

“So, she comes across...lighthouse man....”

“Old Roddy,” he interjected.

“Right,” I said slowly. “She comes crawling ashore and runs into Old Roddy, who turns her into a sex slave before tying her up and attempting to burn her alive. How do we know she didn’t wash up dead and then he had his...way with her?”

Again, we both grimaced at my suggestions.

“You have a terrible imagination, Perry,” Al chided.

“Well, that’s humanity for you. We are a terrible species.”

“Some of us are terrible; some of us are good. What went on in that lighthouse must have been the height of all that plagues us. Like I said, I don’t think it’s haunted but I think there’s been some sort of curse, some evil, on that place all along. It’s just waiting for another person to take in.”

He looked at me sternly, perhaps with a bit of fear in his eyes. I understood what he was saying. I felt what he was saying. Haunted by Old Roddy or cursed by some demon, I knew there was something in that place that so desperately wanted me. And the most disturbing thing of all was that I kind of wanted it, too.

“And so what happened after?” I asked. I needed to ignore my feelings. “I mean, did you board it all up? Was it open when you first moved here?”

“I didn’t know what we were buying when we first moved here. I hadn’t heard any of the tales and neither had Paula (his ex) but I knew deep, deep down there was something terrible about that place. I only stepped foot in it once and that was the first time we all went to explore it. I think Matthew found part of a jawbone from some sort of animal in one of the rooms. The place just felt too unsettled and dangerous, not to mention how weak the structures felt on the second floor. And really, what was the point of having your own defunct lighthouse? It made no sense to me. So, we had it boarded up and pretty much forgot about it. Until last week.”

My lip wiggled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, Perry. I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”

He watched me intently as if he was trying to suss out whether something had happened to me or not.

“No,” I said slowly, “I guess nothing really did happen to me. But since you think the lighthouse is evil, a lot of the....feelings....I had about the place would back that up.”

He patted my hand. “And I’m glad you’re not going back in there.”

I smiled at him. I felt happy for getting to know my uncle better. Maybe this weekend wasn’t such a waste after all.

“Though I must say,” he started, “I thought last night he—”

Before he could finish that thought, there was a loud knock at the door. I jumped in my seat, the coffee finally giving my heart a boost. Al got up and opened the front door.

“Good morning, sir. I’ve come for the lady.” Dex was at the door, feigning importance. He had a cap on his head and tipped it jauntily.

“Come in, Dex.” Al ushered him inside and closed the door.

Dex walked over to me with a smile on his face. It also gave my heart a jolt.

“Good morning. Care for some breakfast before we go?” he asked.

“Um, oh, sure.” I eyed the clock on the wall.

“Sorry for just dropping by.” He looked at both of us. “I tried calling your cell a few times and I texted you, but there was either no answer or I kept getting the wrong number.”

His voice lowered over that last part. I studied his face. His grin faltered slightly. Was he lying? No one had called or texted me at all that morning. I got out my iPhone just in case and looked it over. Nope. Nothing.

“Anyway,” Dex continued, looking at Al. “I’m afraid I’ve got to steal away your niece now. I’ve still got to make it up to Seattle for tonight.” >

“Be my guest. I’m sorry you guys are walking away empty-handed, but I suppose these things always happen for a reason.”

“I believe that very much, Uncle Al,” Dex said. He looked at me. “Will it take you long to pack?”

I slammed the last bit of coffee down. I hated having to rush. I got up and picked up my bag. “All ready to go.”

He gave me the thumbs up sign, then promptly turned on his heel and walked out of the house.

I looked at Al and rolled my eyes by way of explaining his actions. Which I couldn’t. So I hugged him goodbye and thanked him for everything, then scuttled outside after Dex.

The SUV was running in the driveway; the steam rising up from its tailpipe gave it a warm, welcome look in the morning downpour.

Though it was only a few yards, I was fairly soaked when I swung the door open and jumped inside.

Dex put his hand on the gearshift and gave me the once over.

“Were you even alive in the nineties? Because it looks like that decade chewed you up and spit you out again,” he said mockingly.

He put the car in reverse and sped the car out of the driveway.

“I was born in 1988, for your information. Can’t you count?” I spat back at him. I was not in the mood for teasing of any sort.

He turned to me with an excited leer. I could tell he was in the mood for teasing.

“You’re only a child of the nineties if you had your teenage years during that decade. I mean look at you, all Doc Martens and Converse and leggings.”

“You’re the one with the eyebrow ring,” I shot back. “I think it’s better to emulate a time period you haven’t properly lived through. Otherwise, you’re just holding on to the past.”

He laughed. “I have no past to hold on to.”

He flipped his MP3 player on. To my surprise, Billy Joel came on. “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant,” to be precise.

Dex began to sing along.

Here was the infamous voice of Declan Foray. It was smoother, deeper, and more powerful than Joel’s. It seemed to float over the words, vibrating with rich tones. It was gorgeous, hypnotic....and so out of place.

He continued to sing until he noticed me staring at him. I must have looked very confused.

Dex turned down the volume. “I do this in the mornings. So where did you want to eat? I saw this great stereotypical diner in town that must serve the blackest coffee this side of the divide.”

“Sure, sounds good,” I said as he went straight back into song, snapping his fingers and wiggling in his seat.

He did this every morning? I looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty a.m. Where on earth did he get the energy to put on a musical at this hour?

I wasn’t complaining, though; it was fascinating to listen to and to watch, once I got past the weirdness of this spontaneous and strange direction. I didn’t think it was possible to outshine Billy Joel, but Dex was doing so as he was speeding down the coastal highway toward Tillamook.

He smiled and sang to me, it seemed.

My heart skipped a beat again. Did he know the quickest way to charm the pants off of me was to sing to me?

“I didn’t know you could sing,” I lied.

“No?” he eyed me suspiciously. “I suppose there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, kiddo. But you will...in due time.”

Right, I thought sarcastically. I knew that after this weekend there wasn’t going to be any more time for us.

A short while later, and after a couple more Billy Joel songs, which Dex unfortunately did not sing his way through, we pulled up next to the diner in Tillamook.

Dex was right about it looking stereotypical. It had a seventies orange awning with God-awful faded font on top: Tilly’s Diner. Painted on the dark, tinted windows were images of coffee cups, bacon, and eggs done up in that pebbly glass paint, peeling at the corners. I couldn’t tell from the outside if it was even open; looking down the foggy, rain-logged street I couldn’t imagine anyone actually being alive in this town, let alone having breakfast.

As we entered the diner, the smell of fat and griddled meats hit my nostrils. The door chimed loudly and echoed across the restaurant. There were a few patrons surprisingly, but not surprisingly they were ragged-looking seniors. We made our way to a table in the corner, which was covered by a green plastic tablecloth. The light was dim and terribly unflattering.

“This is charming,” I said, sliding in the padded booth across from Dex.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, without a trace of sarcasm.

A rotund waitress came by. She had thick glasses, a bulbous red nose, and seemed to lack a chin. I couldn’t look at her face too long without feeling nauseous, so I looked at her nametag: Nancy.

Nancy tossed two laminated menus across the table at us with a hint of contempt. I smiled uneasily at her, and she did not return the sentiment. She turned her attention to Dex.

He flashed her his sly joker smile.

“Good morning, Nancy. How are you on this gorgeous day?” Once again it was spoken with utmost sincerity.

Nancy looked at him suspiciously. “Tilly’s big plate breakfast is on special today. Want coffee?”

“We both do, yes, please,” Dex said, not even bothering to see if I agreed. I guess he knew that much about me so far. I knew he could sing. He knew I liked coffee. We were like old pals.

Nancy left without acknowledging the order.

Dex looked down at the menu and wiggled his brows. “I think she likes me.”

“You would think that,” I said somewhat viciously. I couldn’t help myself.

Dex put the menu down and looked up at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Are you OK?”

He made me uncomfortable. I regretted saying anything and fidgeted in my seat. I turned my attention to the menu.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t shit a bullshitter,” he said angrily.

Now, it was my time to be surprised. His eyes looked almost venomous. I was even more uncomfortable now.

Thankfully, Nancy chose that moment to come by and slam two cups of coffee on the table, the dark drops spilling over the edges. “Well?” She looked at us, cocking her brow.

“We’ll both have the special,” Dex said, without taking his contemptuous eyes off of my face. I looked up at Nancy and gave her an apologetic look, but she took no notice. Merely sighed and snatched the menus up off the table.

I didn’t even want the big plate special, or whatever it was, but something told me it wasn’t a good time to bring that up. I sucked on my lower lip and gradually brought my eyes to meet his again.

“Remember when you told me I should let you know when you’re creeping me out?” I reminded him. “This is one of those times.”

He held my gaze for a few seconds more before leaning back in the booth and running his hand through his hair. “This is also the time you tell me what happened to you last night.”

Ah. A light went on in my head. Now I knew one thing that made Dex tick—when he didn’t know something. No wonder he was so intent on trying to read my thoughts. If he didn’t know everything that was going on, it drove him nuts. He must be one of those boyfriends who constantly ask you what you’re thinking. It probably drove his girlfriend up the wall.

“OK, then. I’ll tell you from start to finish. Just keep an open mind, refrain from thinking I am crazy or delusional, though I may very well be, and don’t say anything until I am done.”

His dark eyes lightened up a smidge. “I promise.”

I sighed, took a long gulp of the terrible black coffee for strength, and told Dex everything, starting with my dreams, what I made up on the beach, about what Uncle Al told me, and what I saw last night. When I was done, the platters arrived on our table and I was suddenly ravenous from talking excitedly for so long.

I shoved a greasy slice of Canadian bacon into my mouth and said, “And now you know everything that I know. Which is nothing. Happy?”

Dex had stayed true to his word and remained quiet and attentive during the whole spiel. Even now he wasn’t saying anything. He just pursed his lips until he resembled a sexy duck before digging into his breakfast. I tried not to watch him eat, even though I could see from the furrow between his brows that he was deep in thought, trying to make sense of what I told him.

We ate in silence. The longer he went without saying anything, the more torn up I felt inside. Did he believe me? Did he think I was mental? Because if there was anyone at this table who was mental, I knew it wasn’t me. That said, I did have a dead man trying to hand me an oil lamp last night.

“You actually believe all that?” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked slowly. “Of course. It happened. I don’t know how else to explain it but that’s what happened.”

I looked at him closer; my mouth dropped a little bit. Was he doubting this whole thing?

“You think I’m making all of this up? This was your idea.”

He laughed. “Come on, Perry. We didn’t really find anything the first time we were out here. I wouldn’t blame you for trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

I could barely form thoughts, let alone speak at his assumptions. “You think I’m faking it?”

“I think you see what you want to see,” he said, and shoveled an entire pancake into his mouth. I was too livid to even consider how gross that was.

I couldn’t help but reach across the table and grab his forearm. I squeezed it. Hard. He looked up at me, pancake frozen inside his wide yap.

“Dex,” I said, with as much intensity and seriousness that I could muster. “I’m not lying. I don’t care about any of this. You found me. In the end, you found me. I’m just telling you the truth. You think that lighthouse is haunted, you’re looking for all the proof, but I’m telling you now that I know it is. It is.”

He searched my face, while slowly chewing the pancake until it was gone. I didn’t know what he thought, but there was nothing more I could do at this point.

“Look,” I finally said. “I’ll prove it. Let’s go there right now. Hell, let’s go tonight. We can drive back to Portland after. I need to show you. I need you to believe me.”

He shook his head. “No can do, kiddo. I’ve got to get back tonight.”

“Why? What do you have to do? Is your girlfriend so paranoid that she won’t let you out of her sight for the weekend?”

He was taken aback at that and managed to laugh. “My girlfriend? Jenn doesn’t give two shits if I’m there or not.”

That was news to me. I tried to not let that show.

“No,” he continued, “I’m just done with it. I don’t think I should get any deeper into this whole thing. I’ve got enough footage and, with your permission, I could combine it with what you shot last week.”

“What if I say no?” I countered, arms crossed.

“I’d say you’re being awfully stubborn and acting like a typical young girl who isn’t getting her way,” he shot back. “And then I’d shrug, wipe my hands clean of this whole thing and go home.”

“To your girlfriend who doesn’t even care if you’re there or not?”

He threw down his napkin. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t care. I just think you’re chickenshit.”

“Excuse me?”

I could tell the anger was rising behind those eyes, but I didn’t care. I was past caring and beyond angry myself.

“That’s right,” I reinforced. “I think you are chickenshit. You’re happy to call this whole thing off just because you are too scared to go back there because you actually think I am telling the truth. And the truth scares you.”

He leaned in closer across the table and this time grabbed my forearm.

“You scare me, Perry,” he growled and gave my arm a sharp squeeze. “You.”

I eyed his grip. He met my eyes and then very slowly, hesitantly, released me.

“This is going to be a really awkward car ride back home, isn’t it?” I asked, a trace of amusement in my voice. The whole situation was ridiculous.

He sighed and leaned back, pushing his plate away from him.

“I hope I’m driving you as crazy as you’ve been driving me,” I said bluntly.

He shook his head and got out of the booth. “I’m going to go pay,” he muttered, despite the fact that I wasn’t done eating. It didn’t matter, though. I had had enough too—of the food, of everything. At least breakfast was free.

I watched him approach the till and decided it would be a good time to get a breath of fresh air before the hellish ride back.

I walked out of the diner and took in a deep breath. I closed my eyes and looked up at the sky, letting the rain fall on my face and feeling like it was washing away the dust that was accumulating inside my brain.

I exhaled through my lips, slowly and fully. I opened my eyes before I started to feel a bit off balance.

There was a woman, an old woman, standing directly in front of me. She was grinning a bright smear of red, waxy paint. The lipstick was on her yellowing teeth. My breath caught on the way out.

I had seen her before, in the lobby of my office.

I don’t know how long we stood there staring at each other. I felt paralyzed, unable to breathe, move or talk. She didn’t move either, just kept up that demonic grin.

She slowly reached over with a bony hand and placed it on my shoulder. Her hands were covered with many rusted cocktail rings; the white taffeta coat she was wearing had clownish puff balls on it. They were all different colors. Bright yellow, orange, red, blue and green. She really did look like some satanic clown’s aging mother. >

She started to speak. Rather, her sticky red lips moved but no sound was coming out. She spoke like this for a few seconds before she finally said, “Declan.”

What about him? I thought inside my head, the terror competing with curiosity.

“He’s got some stories to tell,” she whispered, her voice low, almost metallic sounding, as if she was speaking through a phone. There was a familiar accent on certain syllables. “He’ll tell you, one day. About what happened to him. You just need to watch him. Watch out for him. Closely. You’re cut from the same cloth.”

She took away her hand, and with her eyes focused on the diner, walked straight inside as her coat ruffled behind her in the light breeze.

I stood still, my breath coming back. I realized I was soaked to the bone from the rain (and maybe sweat); I didn’t care. I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed what just happened, but there was no one on the wet, grey street.

I looked back at the diner and took a hesitant step toward it, wondering why she had gone in there and if anyone else noticed how f*cking freaky she was. I dipped low, trying to see inside through the dark tint and the stupid food paintings. I couldn’t make out anything except a few shadows of people sitting down at their tables. I put my face at the window and cupped my hands around it, not caring if anyone inside saw me trying to be a Peeping Tom.

I had thought I saw some sort of commotion, when the door flung open and Dex burst outside. I jumped a few inches off the ground and almost knocked my head against the glass. He looked around him—pure panic in his eyes—and then spotted me.

He reached over and grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly towards him. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

We ran over to the car. My mind was racing. What was going on? Who was that lady and why did she warn me about Dex? Watch out for him? What did that even mean?

I jumped in the passenger seat and barely closed the door before Dex stomped on the gas and the SUV rocketed down the street, veering side to side on the slick roads. I decided to heed her advice. I would keep an eye on him. He looked like a man possessed.

I turned my head to look back at the diner, but Dex yelped, “Don’t look back there. Keep looking forward.”

Heart in my throat, I did what he said.

“What the f*ck just happened?” I squeaked out once he brought the car off of the street and on to the highway.

He just shook his head, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were a hard shade of white.

“Dex! Talk to me! Slow down!” I yelled as the car went skidding around a corner, water flying everywhere, my body straining against the seatbelt.

He kept his foot on the gas, speeding in deathly silence.

He reached over and locked all the doors in the car.

Watch Dex, indeed. I felt like he would be the last thing I would ever see.