Chapter Text
East Highland, Massachusetts , 1994
The fluorescent lights buzz softly above Heather as she makes her way down the aisles of B. Dalton Booksellers, tracing a finger along the spines of the glossy new covers. The quietness coming from the East Highland Mall is comforting, she loves these few minutes after the mall doors have closed for the night. Virgil is still closing up Spencer’s, three stores down, she’ll take her time getting the bookshop closed up.
A chime echoes from the front of the store, pulling Heather’s attention. She blinks, confused. B. Daltons is empty, save for her and the rows of books stretching out like endless corridors.
A shiver runs down her spine. It’s probably just the security guard, making his last rounds around the mall before turning off all the lights.
Bring!
Heather let’s out a gasp, jumping. Her shoulders slump as she lets out a weak laugh at her own nerves as she answers the phone. "B. Dalton Booksellers, how can I help you?"
Silence on the other end. Just faint breathing, heavy and slow.
“Hello?” Heather’s voice wavers slightly.
More silence, then a click as the call disconnects. Heather stares at the receiver, her heart pounding in her chest. Probably just a prank, she thinks. Or maybe Virgil is messing with her.
She hangs up, trying to shake the growing sense of dread. The mall is eerily quiet now, the usual hum of life gone. Heather throws the rest of the books she’d been shelving in a messy stack under the counter. She’s ready to get the fuck out of here. She’ll wait for Virgil in Spencer’s.
A shadow flits in her peripheral vision. Heather whirls around, eyes wide, but again, nothing. The store is as empty as before, but now it feels sinister, the shelves towering over her like dark sentinels.
Her breath quickens as she exits, reaching up to grasp the metal grate and tug it down. It falls with a clang and Heather turns — and freezes — a figure in black, a skull mask concealing its face, standing in the middle of the walk way.
Heather’s scream dies in her throat as she stumbles backward. The figure steps towards her, slow and deliberate, a glinting blade in hand.
Heather turns and flees, sprinting away towards the exit of the mall, the masked figure following in relentless pursuit. Her sneakers squeak on the polished floor as she darts through the food court, knocking over a display and nearly running smack into a kiosk. She trips as she swerves to avoid it — and screams when she sees what she’d fallen over. Bradly, the guy who’s run that kiosk since she’d started at B. Dalton’s is sprawled face up in a pool of deep red blood, throat slashed.
She scrambles to her feet, trying to keep her feet moving as they slip and slide in the blood. The figure is right behind her now. Heather lunges towards the door again…With a swift, brutal motion, the blade slices through the air.
Heather's vision blurs as pain surges through her, each breath growing weaker. The figure in the skull mask stands over her, blade gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light. She reaches up, weakly, pulling at the mask, tugging it off.
Virgil.
Heather’s eyes widen in shock.
No.
Her mind struggles to make sense of it, lips moving, trying to plead with her friend. Virgil’s eyes stare down at her — cold and empty.
He raises the blade again, and with one swift motion, the world goes dark.
—
Fezco maneuvers his inherited vintage Caddy up to the curb to where Rue’s sprawled out in the overgrown grass of the small, shabby white house, her long legs spread out in a V-shape as she leans lazily back on one elbow. The early October afternoon sun illuminates her messy curls and the dried brown grass she’s lounging on. He sees her spot him and grin, taking one last desperate drag on the small stump of a joint.
“Yo” She calls out, stubbing it out in the dirt next to her. She scrambles to her knees and stands, swaying slightly as she shoulders her ratty, army-green messenger bag.
She bounces up the car, ducking her head to peer into the front seat, lips curling at the sight that awaits her. Ash, clad in the royal blue uniform of the East Highland marching band, gives her a look that would sear the flesh off of bone.
“Cute outfit.”
His look grows even more withering.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Rue’s grin deepens. She opens the back door and throws herself across the backseat. “Imma need to come by your place after.” She declares to the car.
Fez nods nonchalantly, as he pulls away, steering the gold car down the worn asphalt towards the singular main street that ran through downtown East Highland. Ash, however, narrows his eyes at Rue's annoucement.
“The fuck you are. You know how expensive AOL is?”
“C’mon…” Rue whines. “I had detention today and didn’t get to the library. I’ve had two extensions on this essay. If I don’t finish it by Monday, my English teacher is going to pull a Virgil Torres.
“Rue!” Fez throws her a glare in the rearview mirror.
Rue holds up both hands. “Too soon?”
“Fuckin’ morbid.”
“Dude only went fuckin’ stab happy through the mall last night .” Ash agrees.
“You never know when Sarah Fier is gonna come back.” Rue throws an ominous tone into her voice She spots Fez rolling his eyes in the rearview. She leans forward, grinning.
"She reaches from beyond the grave
to make good men her wicked slaves!"
She chants gleefully.
“Fuckin’ Christ.” Fez mutters.
"She'll take your blood!"
She'll take your head.
She'll follow you until you're dead!"
The slightest hint of a smile dances across Ash’s face at her over over the top delivery of the oft entoned poem.
“You a dick.” Fez says over his shoulder.
“It's just fun.”
“It's sick. The dude was wearing a fuckin’ Halloween skull mask!”
Rue shrugs. “How is that not fun?”
“People died, Rue. Wasn’t one of ‘em some girl at yo’ school?”
Rue shrugs. Fez watches as she bounces in the backseat. It’s not the first tragedy she’s seen in her life, her own father’s death stands out among them. Fez can’t blame her for her blase take on mass murder.
“The guy was probably just some sad sack who hated his life, who decided, "Hey, why don't I get out of here for good?" And, "Hey, why don't I take a buncha other people with me? There's no angry dead witch who made him go postal.”
“Again—you’re no fun.” Rue pouts. She stares out the window at the dingy, dirty windows of the businesses of Main Street East Highland as they pass.“You’re aware we don't believe this witch shit, right? It's just, like, fucked-up Santa Claus or something.”
Fez snorts and throws a look at Ash, who stiffens when he feels his brother’s glace. Fez grins. “I mean, they’re some believers out there.”
Rue leans forward again, a shit eating smile breaking out across her face. “Really?” She sounds delighted.
“I’m just doin’ fuckin’ research!” Ash snaps.
“Aw, Ash — you scared of the witch?” Rue cranes her head over the edge of the seat.
“No.” Ash shoots back. “There’s fucked up stuff goin’ on in this town. I’m just lookin’ into it.”
Rue clucks her tongue. “This internet bullshit is exactly why you have no friends.”
“It's not bullshit!”
Rue is practically vibrating to answer, but something else occurs to her. “You know, I think it’s actually very interesting, Ash. I’d love to see what you’ve been up to, Nancy Drew.”
Ash grits his teeth.
“In fact, I could come over af–”
“You ain’t comin’ over and you ain’t stealin’ our AOL.”
Rue and Ash dissolve into squabbles, sniping at each other over the seat.
Fez watches out the window as the houses grow bigger and newer, all fresh painted with neatly manicured lawns. The grass is greener here; vibrant orange and red leaves swirl across the smoothly paved roads and bright, perfectly round pumpkins line the clean bricked paths up to each picture-perfect mini mansion.
The news that another East Highlander had taken a dive into crazy and killed six people at the mall before being shot down by Sheriff Jacobs was riling up the youth of the town. Kids had been streaming in the Dairy all day, laughing and singing that stupid fucking rhyme at each other.
The legend of Sarah Fier.
The witch who’d chopped off her hand and swore a curse on all those who lived in East Highland, before meeting her end at the hands of the town's puritanical founders.
Before the witch's final breath,
She found a way to cheat her death
By cutting off her wicked hand,
She kept her grip upon our land
She reaches out from beyond the grave,
To make good men her wicked slaves
She'll take your blood, she'll take your head,
She'll follow you until you're dead!
A rhyme told in shrieking laughs by school children, adopted by adults to pass off the exorbitant amount of tragedy and suffering shouldered by the people of East Highland.
Get into a car accident and subsequently addicted to painkillers, causing you to leave your family and live on the streets? Sarah Fier.
Father diagnosed with cancer, dies slowly before your eyes, and you turn to stealing his medication to numb your own pain? Sarah Fier.
Grandma gets hit with a stroke, falls into a comma, lingers for years until she finally passes? Sarah Fier.
An East Highland resident going insane and taking out a slew of people in increasingly horrifying and brutal ways? Sarah Fier.
The witch had become the emblem of all the shitty, horrible things that had plagued East Highland since its founding, over three hundred years ago.
Ash had given Fez a run down this morning.
“Sixteen years ago. That’s the last time an East Highlander went crazy and killed a bunch of kids. A camp counselor at Camp Nightwing back in ‘78. Chopped a bunch of campers up with an axe.”
“Fuck.” Fez had said, sipping coffee in the small kitchen while his brother had ranted, waving pages he’d printed off his computer.
“And back in the 50’s – Ruby Lane. She invited all her friends to her birthday party then attacked ‘em with a fuckin’ straight razor. Then slashed her own wrists.”
Fez’s stomach had turned while he listened to his brother ramble about the series of mass murderers and brutal, violent slayings in their town's twisted history.
“‘Is like fuckin’ clockwork! Every fifteen to twenty years, an East Highlander goes nuts and slaughters a whole bunch of people. Then themselves. Or they get killed.”
It was the witch. Or so the theory went.
And, okay, yeah, Fezco’s pretty religious himself – he prays and touches his St. Christopher pendant as he’s walking into deals. Where most people, like Ash and Rue, scoff at the idea of a higher power – after all, can you really believe someone’s looking out for you when your life is falling down around you? – Fez’s always been the type to look for something bigger than himself. But witches and curses? It was too fucking much. A way of trying to blame something for the shitty world around them because it’s better than the alternative.
And Ash’s obsession with researching the curse and the witch was starting to grow worrisome. He’d found a chatroom online where he’d started exchanging theories and ideas, delving into the dark history of their town and spending his time reading about the horrible, gruesome deaths that marked their history.
Fez knows he has no reason to talk – what with the drugs that pass through their family’s Dairy not exactly providing the safest or most stable home environment to begin with – but all that witch shit can’t be good for the kid, right?
Neither Ash nor Rue seemed shaken by the grizzly murder that had taken place last night, when Virgil Torres had finished his late night shift at the Spencer’s in East Highland Mall, closed down the register, cleaned the counter, then put on a skull mask and stabbed the other handful of closing shift Mall employees to death.
Just another fuckin’ day in East Highland.
Fezco pulls into the parking lot of West Highland High. The large brick building looks like something out of a magazine. Autumnal leaf garlands decorate the shiny wooden doors, the red facade of the structure looks crisp and clean. It has fucking flowers lining the cobblestone pathways to the entrance.
Coming to West Highland was like a fucking stab to the gut. The opulence and wealth that oozed from the cookie cutter community was oppressive, like the stench that couldn't be removed.
Rue hops out of the car behind Fezco and Ash, the younger O’Neill starting for the football stadium, lugging his drum equipment behind him. West Highland was hosting a candlelight vigil for the victims of the massacre, all player, band, and cheer attendance had been made mandatory by both schools, making the parking lot of the school more packed than normal.
Fez posts himself on the hood of his car. Tonight, teenagers from both towns will make their way to the parking lot to slip him crumpled up bills in exchange for the small baggies he’s got stuffed in the black duffle at his side. Rue climbs up next to him.
“You sure you good to be here?” He asks. Rue’s mess of a love life had been dangerous during her first year of sobrity. She’d tried to stay sober for Jules, a delicate, uphill battle that had nearly been lost when they’d broken up for good. Rue’d floundered and their friendship had nearly shattered when Fez had cut her off in an effort to keep her from falling completely over the edge. He can still remember the night she’d shown up at his place, desperate and scared and feeling the first pangs of withdrawal. It was the worst fight they’d had when he’d found her pilfering bottles in his grandmother’s bedroom. He’d kicked her out, terrified for her, for his grandmother. Rue’d ended up in rehab again, emerging with a desire to actually get better. Fez isn’t sure if hanging around her former drug dealer is the best thing for a baby sober addict, but he missed the kid too much when she was gone.
The sky is darkening over the parking lot, stars beginning to emerge in the blue velvet sky. They always looked brighter here. It’s something that he acknowledges with a bitter twist to his stomach. He thinks of Ash, the violence and the darkness and the fucking horror show that Fez’d forced the kid to grow up in. Would Ash be so fuckin angry if he’d been raised here, among the beautiful houses and the clean streets?
As the parking lot grows fuller, kids begin making their way over to him. It’s business as usual, West Highland kids with their designer clothing and expensive cars strolling up with their familiar looks of derision. Fez ain’t give a shit about that, he’d had worse than rich kids thinking they were better than him. It’s never bothered him.
A car parks a few places down, a shiny red BMW. Fez takes another hit, watching disinterestedly as the doors pop open and several teens emerge. Fez clocks the tall, pale blonde in a baby blue dress and glances down at Rue. She’s seen Jules too.
On the other side of the car, Nate Jacobs climbs out. Rue lets out a scoffing noise. “Fucking typical.”
Fez takes a drag and eyes her, watching to see how she’s taking the sight of them together. Jules’ burgeoning relationship with Jacobs is bound to smart, and Fez knows she’s not going to deal well with seeing her ex with a new guy.
The driver of the flashy car is leaning over the hood, saying something to Nate, a red and white letterman’s jacket on his broad shoulders. Fez frowns, knocking his foot against the bumper of his car. Tucker Blake is even more annoyin’ than Nate Jacobs, in Fezco’s opinion.
The final teenanger, a slender brunette girl in a cheerleading uniform, something red and white and peppy, that makes her look like a candy cane, reveals herself, shouldering a duffle bag as she shuts the passenger’s side door.
Lexi Howard.
Her walnut-cinnamon hair is shiny in the late afternoon sun, pulled up in a crisp red ribbon and, even from this distance he can make out the small WH painted on one delicate cheekbone. Gorgeously long, slender legs flash under the criminally short cheerleading skirt as she makes her way around the fancy car to where Tucker is waiting for her.
He hadn’t really known her, back when she’d lived in East Highland – a shy, quiet girl, always hovering behind Rue like a pretty, dark shadow. The two of them had been thick as thieves back then, best friends all their lives – since pre-school even. But she’d become a total bitch ever since her mother had remarried a West Highland lawyer and moved their family out of her childhood home. At least, according to Rue.
Tucker throws his arm around her shoulders and steers her towards the stadium. Fezco’s eyes linger for only a second before he looks away, making himself take a drag and let a stream of smoke escape his lungs into the twilight air.
“Hey, man…” Fez looks over. Nate Jacobs.
“Sup?” He slides off the hood of his car, reaching out to slap his hand against Nate’s. Nate was a fuckin’ dick, but he was a Jacobs, one of the oldest and most connected families in the area, being the son of the county Sheriff and nephew of the West Highland Mayor was a pretty powerful customer. He leans back against the car, “whatchu lookin for?”
“Gimme an eight.”
“I gotchu.” Fez reaches for his duffle, riffling around for the baggie. “It’s three-fifty, playboy.”
Nate smiles, pulling out his wallet and making a show of slipping three crisp hundred dollar bills and a fifty from its contents. He’s got several more in there – over three hundred bucks for drugs is nothing. Fez reaches out in a smooth motion, halfway between a handshake and a high five, slipping the bag into Nate’s palm.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Fezco.” Nate says, like a total fucking loser.
He turns and joins the group of sycophants waiting for him at the edge of the parking lot, Jules among them.
The rest of the night runs smoothly. Fez sells to the students who straggle into the game. He can hear the distant and almost unintelligible voice of Mayor Jacobs from the stadium, as he works, entoning his wish for an end to the horrific violence. Both schools had called for a moment of peace between their feuding student bodies, insisting that a candlelight vigil be held that night before the biggest game of the Fall between the West Highland Devils and the East Highland Witches, an attempt at honoring the victims of Virgil’s massacre. West Highland’s best belaboring East Highland’s worst.
Fez manages to make it into the stadium at halftime to see the band perform. His chest swells with pride at the sight of Ash, tense with concentration as he drums out the rhythm of Smells Like Teen Spirit in time with the rest of the East Highland Band.
Business slows enough during the third quarter for him to find Rue in the stands and spend the rest of the game letting her steal nachos from the paper container of gooey, vibrantly yellow cheese and tortilla chips he buys from the concession stand and watching her pretend not to be staring at Jules, who’s sitting in the stands across from them, cheering everytime Jacobs gets knocked on his ass.
The game ends and Fez makes his way down to where Ash is packing up his drums. Rue’s eyes are on Jules who’s hugging Nate on the sidelines.
“You comin’?” He asks. Rue drags her gaze away from Jules.
“Gimme a sec…gotta run to the bathroom.”
Fez snorts. “C’mon, Kid.”
Rue glares. “You gonna have issues with me having to piss now?”
“Yeah, okay. Tell Jules I said hi.”
“Fuck off.”
Fez shakes his head and makes his way down to meet Ash as Rue heads in the opposite direction towards the area where the West Highland kids are streaming out of the stadium.
“Sup, Dave Grohl?” He says, grinning. Ash throws him a furious look.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, you wanna meet me at the car? Imma check on Rue…”
Ash nods, shouldering his drum case. “Yeah, okay.”
Fez ducks back into the throng of people moving out of the stands. He weaves his way towards the West Highland side, through the long dark tunnels that wrap around the stadium. At the very end, tucked back behind a thick concrete post, he spots a familiar lanky frame swaddled in an oversized cargo jacket. Rue’s animated, curls bouncing as she talks. Jules is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, shaking her head at whatever Rue is adamantly saying.
He hangs back, awkward. Rue doesn’t look like she’s being subtle with her dialogue, but he’s hesitant to interrupt.
“Jules?” A voice calls out from behind Fezco. “Is everything okay?”
Fez’s head snaps to look over his shoulder as Rue spins around in surprise.
Lexi Howard is standing under the archway in that lil cheerleading uniform of hers, frowning at Rue and Jules. She steps forward hesitantly, like she’s unsure what she’s walking into.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Jules says, but her voice is a little wobbly, like she’s trying to hold back tears.
“Are you sure?”
“We’re just talking , Jesus , Howard,” Rue snaps at her.
Lexi reels back.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Rue,” she says sharply.
“Yo, Howard,” he interrupts, “give ‘em a minute.”
Lexi's head snaps towards him, her eyes narrowed as she crosses her arms over her chest stubbornly. “I wasn’t talking to you either.”
“Lexi…” Jules pipes up. She nods at her. “It’ll be okay.”
Lexi turns from Fezco just enough to eye her friend warily. “You sure?”
Jules nods. “I just need a minute.”
“C’mon,” Fez jerks his head to the side, urging her to step back into the shadowy area of the stadium. “Let ‘em talk.”
Lexi’s ridiculously big doe eyes are narrowed, and for a second, Fezco holds his breath, bracing himself for a protest, but, instead, she turns and stalks into the alcove. Fezco follows, watching her curls sway across her back as she walks.
(He does not look at the way her stupidly short skirt swishes with each stride of those pretty legs).
Before, back in East Highland, he’d only had a fleeting handful of encounters with her. She’d come in with Rue, hovering in the aisles of his store or watching through dusty windows while Rue made her transactions in the back with Ash. He’d offered her candy, ice cream, soda – anything to make her stiff, nervous posture relax, to ease that anxious look on her face. She’d never accepted, shaking her head and ducking away shyly. They’d never spoken beyond those few, futile exchanges.
Except once.
Rue’d brought her to his house, and he’d gotten her high on his sofa. He’d sat with her, watching as she became increasingly more glassy-eyed and chatty, much more talkative than she’d been in his store, until she’d passed out, right there on his couch. She’d been sweet then, and cute, and pretty. So pretty.
Over the last three years, however, their interactions and grown steadily less sweet, and much more hostile. Since she’d moved to West Highland, Fez’d run into her at parties, games, sometimes she’d come through the Dairy with a group of West Highlander friends or that asshole of a boyfriend o’ hers – and, of course, the times when he’d run into her and Rue screamin’ at each other.
The deterioration of the girls’ relationship over was still somethin’ of a mystery to Fez; they’d gone from being best friends to barely being able to stand one another. Rue was convinced that Lexi’d become a stuck up, know-it-all rich bitch who liked to pretend that she was better than where she’d come from.
When he’d catch the two of them at parties yelling and throwing insults, he’d intervene and pull them away from each other, sending Rue off to fume in a corner. Lexi does have a mouth on her, sharp as anythin.’ And Fezco hates when it’s directed at Rue, so he’s pretty happy to step in and let her aim her barbs at him instead.
She’d never liked him anyways, as far as he could tell – ergo, it makes no difference to him if he’s the one taking on her withering ire. Plus, she’s kind of fun to get all riled up — like teasing a kitten with a piece of string until her claws come out.
Lexi stops in the alcove, spins on her heel to face him. Her eyes are still narrowed, she’s itching for a fight.
“C’mon Howard.” He says quickly, rushing to get in there first. “I promise. If they get to fightin’ each other, I’ll let you run in to the rescue.”
Lexi’s cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink. “Rue needs to let it go. Jules is moving on, she doesn’t need Rue stirring up stuff.”
Fez refrains from rolling his eyes at the mention of Jules and Nate Jacobs. “Maybe. But maybe they both got shit they been needin’ to say fo’ a while”
Lexi snorts. “Jules is fine! She doesn’t have anything left to say to Rue. And if Rue wanted to say anything to her she should before have done it when she dumped her –”
“I ain’t gonna get into they shit,“ Fez says firmly. “It ain’t my business to say who was doin’ what..”
Lexi’s pretty chocolate colored eyes blaze. “Jules is my friend. If she’s going to be hurt, that is my business.”
“Yeah, but you ain’t be needing to butt into they shit when they workin’ it out.” He says, exasperated.
He wonders if Lexi Howard knows about how bad Rue got after she left. And how much more she’d spiraled after Jules left. “It’s nice thatchu worried ‘bout yo’ friend, but you ain’t gotta be there to chaperone.”
“I'm not trying to chaperone.” Lexi snaps. Her pink cheeks grow even pinker. Fez forces himself not to focus on that.
“Then let ‘m talk. They been needin’ to say this shit to each other fo’ a while.”
“But Rue–”
“Jesus, Howard.” Fez groans. “I know you ain’t so good at sittin’ back ‘n watchin,’ but you can at least give Rue a chance to fuck it up before you go runnin in, tryna protect Jewel from her.”
He’s seen it in her before, running after Rue when they were still friends, ‘n then her sister and her West Highland friends afterwards. It’s obvious from the way that she constantly hovers behind everyone, checking people’s drinks and making sure everyone hasn’t had too much. She’s the type to jump in and try to solve everyone’s problems.
God knows he’s got the same Achilles heel.
“You ain’t gotta save Jewel. She gonna be fine.” His tone is softer, a bit more registered. He really does get it.
Lexi sniffs and looks away, frowning. She’s doing the haughty thing again, the one that sets his teeth on edge. Or it would, if the turn of her neck didn’t draw his fuckin’ attention to her collarbone, showed off by the wide V of her cheerleading top.
“Rue can be…” Lexi says, her voice a bit strained. “Rue’s not the most tactful. When she’s upset.”
Fez’s shoulders lose a bit of the tension he was holding. “I mean, you ain’t wrong about that.”
Lexi’s lips twitch for a second. Fez shoves his hands into his pockets, fumbling for a lighter and the joint he’d been carrying, trying to avoid looking at her mouth.
He lights up, pauses, then offers it to Lexi. Her cheeks go even redder. “No thanks.” She says stiffly. He shrugs and takes a drag.
“Rue can be a fuckin’ dick,” he admits. “But she’s tryin’ her best. Wit’ Jewel especially.”
Something flickers in Lexi’s face, but she doesn’t say anything.
“She wants to set things right. As best she can.” Fez can’t really promise anything more than that. He’s only about half sure that Rue isn’t fucking things up even worse as they speak.
“As much good as that’s going to do…” Lexi says stiffly. Fez knows he could take offense on Rue’s behalf, but he chooses to ignore it.
“I mean, it might not do any good. Pro’lly won’t, if I’m bein’ honest.”
“I just don’t want Rue doing any more damage to Jules.” Lexi says, staring at her shoes.
“Me neither, ma,” he says, shaking his head. “Ion want her doin’ anymore damage to anyone. Herself included.”
Lexi frowns. Fez watches her curiously, as she wrestles something inside herself. She loses.
“Is she still…bad?”
Fez searches her face, looking to see how sincere the question is.
Jesus, she’s fuckin’ pretty. It’s almost stupid how much.
“She’s better.” He shifts, uncomfortable. The details of Rue’s overdose had been the talk of East Highland for weeks, but he’s not sure how much Rue would be comfortable with Lexi knowing the gorier details.
“That’s good.” Lexi says quietly. Fez marvels at how quickly her demeanor switches from furious to meek. He feels slightly dizzy.
“I know we don’t really get along.” She continues. “But I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
“I know you don’t.” Fezco says. “Nothin’ bad is gonna happen to her. She’s back on her feet now ‘n she’s makin’ it through.” He wonders if that’s true Rue’s sobriety is hanging by a thread. Believing that Rue’s gonna turn herself around sometimes feels like believing that a witch curse is causing yo’ life to turn to shit. Fuckin’ insane.
Lexi still looks sad and Fez realizes she doesn’t believe him.
“I mean, Imma look out for her as much as I can.”
“That’s nice.” Lexi says. “It’s good that she has someone looking out for her. She needs it.”
“She’s a good kid.”
Something flickers in Lexi’s face, the old animosity. Fezco steels himself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nah, what?”
Lexi straightens her shoulders and squares herself off to him. “Are you selling to her?”
“The fuck?”
“It’s just a question.”
Fez sighs. It’s a valid one, but still.
“No, Howard, I ain’t sellin to her.”
Lexi’s watching him suspiciously. Like she doesn’t believe him.
“You wanna ask for a receipt or somethin’? Check my books to make sure?”
Lexi’s arms come across her chest. “Excuse me for caring. It’s not like it isnt’ weird. Being best friends with your dealer when you’re in recovery isn’t the most prudent idea.”
Fezco’s stomach tightens. “Well, is kinda hard to keep yo’ regular friends when they keep runnin’ away.”
Lexi’s mouth falls open. “I am half an hour away. My mom got married! I didn’t have a choice!”
“You seem real fuckin’ okay with the all the choices you ain’t be makin’.”
“Stop being mad at me for wanting a better future!”
“‘Is not yo’ future, if yo’ pretending to be someone else.”
Lexi reels back, shock in her big eyes.
“Lexi?” They both spin in surprise. Jules is peering into the alcove, Rue behind her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lexi’s voice is quiet. Fez feels a twinge of remorse at being so harsh.
“Ready to go?” She’s looking curiously between them.
“Yes,” Lexi says without hesitation. She walks away quickly, joining her friend. Fez watches her go.
“Yo,” Rue says, her voice defeated and quiet as she steps into the alcove.
“How’d it go?”
“Awesome.” She says flatly. Clearly her conversation with Jules was about as effective as Fez’s had been with Lexi.
“Shit. Sorry, kid.”
“‘S okay.” It clearly wasn’t. She looks crushed.
“C’mon.” He tugs on the edge of her jacket, “Ash’ll be waiting. Plus, you gotta get that fuckin’ paper done.”
Rue’s lips quirk up in the shadow of a smile. “Yeah, ‘kay.” She lets him tug her towards the parking lot.
***
Lexi climbs into Tucker’s BMW, glancing over the headrest of the front seat at Jules, who’s staring out the window. Her face is shrouded in the darkness of the dimly lit car, Lexi can just make out the expression on her friend’s face. She hadn’t known how deep Jules’ fling with Rue had been; the few times Lexi’s asked about it, Jules had shrugged it off.
Rue had been cruelest when she’d been deep in the throes of her addiction, using words like arrows to attack and needle. The sharpness of her viciousness and the guilt of her desperation had been too much for Lexi. When Suze had married Ron and he’d moved the Howards out of East Highland, Lexi’d felt guilty for the relief she’d felt of leaving Rue behind.
She faces the front, buckling her seatbelt in with a click , hands a bit unsteady. She’s still rattled by her fight with Fezco.
As good as Rue is at getting under her skin, Fezco has her beat.
It was mystifying, the way that he seemed to know exactly how to rankle Lexi in the ways that kept her fuming. And tonight, the insinuation that she was trying too hard and butting into where she wasn’t wanted was grating, striking a deeply sensitive nerve.
“You ain’t be needing to butt into they shit,” Lexi mimics to herself. Sue her for caring.
She clenches and unclenches her fists in her lap.
Fezco O’Neil always seems to know exactly how to press her buttons in the worst way.
She’d been intimidated by him, back when she’d lived in East Highland. His notoriety had been cemented by the time she was in middle school. A drug dealer by the age of ten, dangerous and menacing – she’d been shocked when Rue started hanging out with him. Lexi’d been so shy when she’d come by the store. For his credit, he’d actually been nice back then, offering her treats while she’d waited for Rue. Nowadays, the tension between them is even more antagonistic than hers is with Rue — at least she and Rue try to avoid each other. Lexi’s pretty sure that Fezco goes out of his way to be annoying, almost like he enjoys baiting her.
He’d been especially infuriating tonight, managing, as usual, to hit her right where it hurt. The comments that drew attention to how Lexi was always running after her friends – whether she was wanted or not – but also, those infuriating insinuations about her pretending to be someone she’s not. Another sore spot. She runs her hands over her skirt, smoothing it down, still annoyed.
However, for all his faults, Fezco seems to have a soft spot for Rue. Despite the anger that had been sizzling her nerves as they’d bickered and despite the animosity between herself and Rue, Lexi couldn’t help the rush of gratitude she’d felt when Fezco’d told her that he was looking out for her.
Because, no matter what happens, Lexi doesn’t think she’ll ever let out the deep breath she’d taken in that first morning she’d ridden her bike to Rue’s house and found her friend eagle spread on her bed, giddy off the handful of pills she’d stolen from her father’s medicine stash. As much as Rue seemed to hate her, Lexi thinks she’s never going to get off the roller coaster that is Rue's struggle for sobriety.
But Fezco always acted like he really cared about her. And no matter what changed between them, there’s always going to be some part of Lexi that’s relieved that Rue still has someone who’s watching over her.
And then, right on the heels of that pang of gratitude, something else had twinged in her chest, a twist of unexpected jealousy that had surprised her with its sharpness.
Because Lexi’s never had anyone like that, someone looking out for her, except for maybe Cassie, in her own way, but she’s gone now.
And as much as Lexi hates Fezco, right then the idea of someone looking out for her the same way that he does for Rue, had her embarrassingly wistful.
It was bitter and stupid and there’s a little part of Lexi that hates herself for wanting it.
“Babe, hand me the bottle,” Tucker commands.
Lexi tenses, she hates when he drinks when he drives. Memories of a backseat, an ice cream cone melting over a clenched fist send a wave of nausea over Lexi, but she’s learned that trying to curb Tucker’s habits only result in nasty fights and tantrums. She puts her hand under the passenger seat closing her fingers around the bottle of vodka Tucker keeps stashed under it. She hesitates only for a second, then hands it over to her boyfriend, her heart pounding in her chest, the protest she wants to make dying on her tongue.
Two years of living in West Highland, reinventing herself as something other than meek, mousey Little Howard and she’s the same girl she always was.
Cassie had adjusted better to the new fancy house, the nice car Ron had bought them to share as a welcome present, the shopping sprees in the West Highland mall. She’d loved their new school, the shiny, waxed floors and the clean walls were so unfamiliar to the unpolished walls of East Highland High. She’d thrived, immediately falling into the rhythm of the popular, wealthy girl in the fancy school – cheerleading captain, homecoming queen.
It had taken Lexi longer. Without Rue and the friends she’d made in grade school, she’d floundered. She’s naturally shy, the nerdy, bookish type, self-conscious and hesitant to put herself out there.
She’s envied Cassie for a lot over the years – her looks, her charm, the confidence that makes her the natural center of attention of any room she stands in, but most of all – the ability to continually throw herself into situations without hesitation. She puts herself out there in a way that Lexi’s never figured out how to. She’d ended up curling in on herself, trying to find something to latch onto to find a way through the upheaval her life had undertaken, lonelier than ever.
Cassie, for all her faults, had been the one to take pity on her.
She’d taken Lexi into her fold of popular, pretty girls. She’d dressed her up like a doll and carved out out a space for her on the cheerleading squad. After years of snide remarks and derision, Lexi finally gave into her sister’s demands to ditch the librarian-coded pleated skirts and plaid dresses, trading them in for trendier, sexier pieces and swapping the classic red lipstick she’d loved for shiny, neutral glosses. She felt unlike herself, trading her quirks and personality to fit in, but it was worth it, to finally feel like she had a place to belong with her sister, among her new peers.
Cassie was dating Nate at the time – a volatile, fucking mess of a relationship that sputtered out in a series of break ups and reconciliations. She’d pushed Lexi into Tucker, Nate’s best friend. He was handsome and popular, rich and cocky — someone who would never have talked to Lexi back in East Highland. But he seemed to like her, or at least the version of herself that Cassie had created out of mascara and push up bras.
Lexi and Tucker had lasted longer than Cassie and Nate had, and then Cassie graduated and moved on to college, leaving Lexi with an inheritance of cheerleading and popular-girl friendships that she didn’t know how to navigate on her own. She misses Rue even more now – the old Rue, how effortless it felt to spend time together, goofing off, eating snacks and snarking at reruns of The Real World.
She hangs out with Tucker now even more, even though it meant spending more time with Nate Jacobs than she wanted to. After everything that had happened between Nate and Cassie, it felt like betraying her sister — but he was Tucker’s friend and Tucker refused to stop hanging out with his friends, just because Lexi couldn’t stop holding a grudge.
She looks at her boyfriend now, his face as handsome as ever, though twisted into an unattractive grimace as he takes a swig from the bottle. He puts it down and leans over to press a kiss against her mouth. “You look so hot tonight, babe,” he says, his hand finding her knee. Lexi looks away, uncomfortable, pressing her legs together and angling them away from him. She can hear Nate chuckling in the back. The smell of weed is already permeating in the car. Tucker gets handsy when he’s crossfaded or wants sex or both. She’s exhausted from the game, bouncing along the sidelines and turning cartwheels. Cheerleading is a sport, goddamn it, no matter what Tucker says, and she’s wiped out.
Tucker’s hand falls to her knee as he peels out of the parking lot, music is pulsing out of the speakers and Lexi’s headache is getting worse as the bass thrums loudly. Tucker’s speeding up, weaving his car through traffic. Lexi’s knuckles whiten as she keeps her eyes on the dashboard, refusing to look at the rush of white and yellow lines on the road in front of her. Tucker scares her when he does this; the reckless driving, the drinking, the drugs.
“Hey…” Nate says suddenly, leaning forward between the seats, “is that that fucking weirdo chick? That friend of yours, Lexi?”
Lexi’s eyes focus on the car in front of her. A gold Cadillac, classic, from maybe the seventies. Fezco’s car.
But Nate leaning over her shoulder like that, the wicked smile on his lips, and just past him, the gleam in Tucker’s eyes make Lexi’s stomach drop. “No, I don’t think so,” she says quickly.
Nate laughs in her ear, a wash of alcohol-stained breath on her face. “That’s definitely her. Little junkie whore.” Lexi’s fists tighten, a tight bolt of anger shooting through her. Tucker pushes on the gas, throwing Lexi back against the seat, pushing the words she wants to snap back into her chest. The BMW surges forward, revving up till it’s right behind the Caddy. Lexi can see the face in the back snap around and sees a young, round face glaring at them. Beyond him, she sees the wild mess of curls swirl as Rue in the front swivels to look back.
Tucker revs again, pulling closer to the car in front. Red lights flash on the back of the Caddy and Tucker swears loudly as he immediately jerks his car to the right to avoid crashing. “Fucking asshole!” Lexi grabs onto the door, frozen and heart pounding. Oh my god.
“What the fuck!” Jules, from behind Lexi, shoves at Nate, “Fucking stop!”
“Fuck,” Nate growls. “Get that asshole.”
“Tucker..” Lexi’s voice won’t rise higher than a whimper, she chokes, trying to push out a sound. “Tucker, stop…”
Tucker’s muttering under his breath as he pulls his car up again, pressing the gas viciously to jerk them forward as he speeds towards the Cadillac again. The breaks slam on again and Tucker has to swerve away violently, “fuck!”
“Tucker, stop,” Lexi begs. Her hands are gripping the hand of the door so hard that they’re cramping.
Nate’s seething, shoving at Tucker, “speed up.” He orders. Tucker swerves the car back on to the road and pulls into the left lane and throws on the gas again. He pulls up next to the Cadillac this time, throwing on the horn and cursing loudly. Lexi looks over, terrified, meeting a pair of blue eyes wide with surprise. She bites her lip, wanting to scream. Right behind Fezco, Rue pulls herself up, out of the open passenger window and screams across the roof of the Caddy. “Fuck off asshole!” heaving a bottle towards Tucker’s car. It explodes on the hood and Tucker slams on the breaks again. The kid in the backseat has taken on Rue’s assault and is leaning out of his window, throwing his own bottle back at them as Tucker tries to keep the swerving car steady. The second bottle explodes against the windshield, sending a crack through the glass. Tucker jerks the wheel hard, shrieking.
Lexi screams as the car is sent spinning and careening off the side of the road and into the trees.
It feels like the car wont stop moving – it just keeps going on and on – then suddenly, with a slam everything stops. Lexi’s thrown forward, her head hitting the frame of the door as the airbags slam her in the face. She can’t tell if she’s screaming still, a high pitched noise is blaring in her ears but her lungs don’t seem to be moving enough to make the sound. She fumbles with the latch of the door. I need to get out. I need to get out.
She scrambles to get out of her seat belt and manages to get her shaking hand to curl around the door handle. She pulls on it, throwing her weight against the door to make it open. It gives, and Lexi tumbles out onto the earthen floor of the forest. She’s going to be sick. She’s going to die. She crawls forward, panting, trying to see past the tears in her eyes. The ground is thick with red moss, giving off a damp, musty odor. Her hands feel along the rocks and sticks beneath – then, they hit something. Something old, and dry. Her fingers curl around it.
Lights explode in her eyes.
Lexi goes rigid.
Sharp visions pounding her brain – twisting black snakes, red hot fires burning on pikes, animals bloody and rotting on stone altars, ancient symbols, older than time, carving into rock face, a hanging body, writhing and jerking in the air, a severed hand falling to the floor – and then, a face, young and ancient at once, dark eyes burning with venom and anger – assaulting her with horrifying, overwhelming violence. A voice – two voices? A thousand? Whisper and hiss in her head…
Lexi…
“Lexi!”
She’s jerked back – away from the images, away from the voice – and her vision clears. She’s been pulled away, off the moss and the icy grip that held her frozen fades. She stares up, up into Fezco’s face.
“Did you..” She says faintly, confused, “did you see?” His hands curl around her face.
“Are you okay?” She tries to nod but her head hurts, so she just lets out a noise that she hopes means the affirmative.
“What the fuck…” He’s swiping his hands across her face, wiping at her mouth and nose.
“Oh,” Lexi says, she lifts her hands to touch her face. She’s bleeding. Badly by the look of it. She can’t tell where it’s coming from.
“‘’S okay, You okay.” he says, his voice is soothing and stable, reaching through the virulent static of her mind. She closes her eyes trying to focus on what he’s saying. It’s okay. It’s okay.
Lexi opens her eyes. They’re on the ground, deep in that dark red moss. The car is a few yards away; headlights lighting up enough of this small cove of forest to let Lexi see the deep woods, dark and ancient surrounding them. She shudders and looks back up at Fezco. He’s kneeling next to her, his face clouded as he peers into her face. “You hurt any where?” He asks again.
“Ion think so…” her voice hurts as it comes out, her chest feels like it’s been jumped on.
“Think you can walk?” He asks.
“Yeah,” She says. She wobbles as she stands, trying to make her legs obey. Fez’s arm is around her, a steadying anchor.
“Yo, you good?” He stands with her for a second as she tries to test out her balance.
“Yeah, yeah, I think so…” She looks around.
Jules is standing by the car, Rue next to her. She’s holding her head, a panicked, terrified look on her face. Rue is crowding in, trying to see the damage. Beyond them, back on the highway, the Caddy has been pulled over, she can see figures up along the road, dark silhouettes.
They make their way across the moss, Fezco’s arm is against her back. Lexi’s grateful for it, every few steps she needs to stop and regain her balance. By the time they’ve made it to the road, red and blue lights are flashing, lighting up the scene.
Tucker looks over at Lexi, almost startled. “Lexi…are you okay?” He jogs over to where she and Fez have stopped. He snaps his eyes over at Fezco. “The fuck…” He looks back at her. “Are you okay?” He repeats.
Lexi would laugh if she could. “What the fuck, Tucker?” She hates how it comes out – weak and trembling.
“Come here,” he reaches out and wraps his around her shoulder pulling her away from Fez. Lexi tries to pull back.
“Stop,” she says weakly. Her head is aching, pounding. She thinks she can smell smoke. And earth. And blood. She sways slightly, nausea rising.
“Yo, stop pullin’ on her like that,” Fez’s low drawl sounds even lower, more gravelly.
“Back–”
“Stop fuckin’ grabbin’ her,”’ Fez snaps. “Let her sit the fuck down, asshole.” His hand is at her back again, guiding her towards his car. Lexi lets him, still woozy. He leans her against the back of his car. More lights, red and white approach. An ambulance. More cars are pulling off the road to help. Another police car shows up and Cal Jacobs gets out, walking slowly along the path that Tucker’s car had taken. A paramedic approaches her.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Think she hit her head,” Fezco tells him. “Her nose was bleedin’ when I found her.”
The paramedic shines a light in her eyes, tells her to follow his finger.
Then tells her she needs to go to the hospital.
“I’m fine,” she says again. But her voice sounds funny to her own ears, slurred. Then – “Jules!”
She looks around wildly for her friend. Jules is climbing into the ambulance, Rue is standing alone in the street, watching her with an anguished look on her face.
“Is she okay?” She asks desperately. Everything feels weird and wildly out of focus.
“She’s okay, but we need her to come down to the hospital to get checked out more, same as you.” Lexi nods again and groans as the movement makes her head feel like it's about to wobble off her shoulders.
Rue approaches, her dark eyes wide. “Lexi? Lexi, I’m so fucking sorry. Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” She’s rambling, her voice tight and scared and Lexi’s chest tightens at the sound.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she knows her own voice is wobbly and teary.
“She’s gotta go to the hospital,” Fezco says next to her. Rue looks devastated.
The smell of blood and earth is stronger than ever. Lexi feels like the earth is swaying under her feet.
Lexi…
She freezes at the sound, whispered in the wind. Or just in her head. She shudders.
“Are you okay?”
“You good?”
Fez and Rue both notice at the same time.
“Yeah, I just…I think maybe I do need to go to the hospital after all…”
***
Fezco watches as the ambulance pulls away, Lexi tucked safely in the back. He’s still so fuckin’ pissed at Rue for pullin’ that shit in the car. She could have killed somebody. But more than that, he’s fuckin’ pissed at Lexi’s asshole boyfriend. What the fuck kind of shit was he pulling, driving like an asshole like that. Fuckin fuck.
He looks over at Tucker, sitting on the hood of a cop car. He looks perfect, not a scratch on his ugly ass face; even his hair is still perfectly in place. He thinks of Lexi on her knees in the woods, blood running down her face. Anger boils down his spine. He moves towards Tucker, seething, tension taught in his frame.
Tucker sees him coming and jumps up. “Hey, asshole, you totaled my fucking car.” He’s looking much braver than he had before, cowering back when Fez told him to get away from Lexi. Now that Jacobs’ daddy is running around the woods nearby, he’s looking less scared.
“I’m sure daddy can buy you a new one,” he spits out. They’re nose to nose, narrowed gazes eyeing each other.
“Fucking East Highland trash,” Tucker spits. “Stay in your fucking trash town –”
“You boys okay?” Cal Jacobs’ voice booms out from the edge of the woods. He’s looking between the two teenagers, eyes narrowed at their tense stances.
“We’re good, Mr Jacobs.” Tucker calls back, his eyes still focused on Fezco. Fez wants to fuckin’ laugh in his face. Tucker’s a fucking pussy – all talk – and only when he knows Fezco can’t touch him.
Tucker smiles serenely at Cal and sits back on the hood of the car, looking for all intents and purposes, like a fuckin’ choir boy.
But the Sheriff is still looking at them. “Learn to fuckin’ drive, dick,” Fez warns lowly as he starts to turn back to Rue.
“I mean it,” Tucker calls out, “stay in your shitstain of a town. And stay the fuck away from Lexi.”
Fez freezes for half a second and turns back to Tucker. He takes a step, a sharp, half-pantomimed motion towards the boy on the car. Tucker jerks hard, half throwing himself backwards, flinching away. Fez snorts. Fuckin’ pussy.
He turns and makes his way back to where Rue and Ash are waiting for him.
“Yo, man…” Ash lets out a low laugh. “You good? You lookin’ real fucked up over there.”
Fez looks down in surprise. Blood is smeared across his pale blue polo. “Shit…” Lexi’s blood, from when he’d been helping her in the woods. His chest tightens at the sight. He doesn’t think he can stop thinking about it, how small she’d felt, how desperately she’d clung to him. Fuck.
***
The wait in the hospital is brutal. After a nurse gives her a preliminary check, Lexi is left alone in the ward, Jules has been carted away for stitches
Lexi is nothing, if not extremely logical – sometimes to a fault. She knows she needs to think about Tucker, how he’s an idiot who crashed a car while acting like tool, how he’d fucking left her out in the woods to run away after the wreck – but her mind keeps going back to the visions she’d had in the forest, on her knees in the moss. It was some kind of traumatic brain spasm, her mind pulling out all sorts of awful, horrifying images while she was panicking in the midst of a disturbing trauma. She’s sure that’s a thing.
Closing her eyes she can still see the images, see the twisting dark figures and glowing red lights. The small, gray face flashes in front of her again, eyes black with rage.
Lexi…
Her eyes snap open.
The ward is still empty. Harsh overhead lights casting deep shadows in the far reaching corners. Her mind is playing tricks on her. She shivers, tightening the hand she has on the thin blanket around her shoulders.
She’s hearing things, that’s all. Her brain got scrambled up and now she’s having auditory delusions. That’s definitely a thing.
She watches the shadows, shrinking back slightly. Does it look like they’re moving ? No, Lexi. You’re freaking yourself out…
She stares deep into the darkness. She can almost see the black figures…swooping, writhing. The hissing, wailing sounds…
Lexi…
The door to the ward bangs open and Lexi jumps in the air like a startled cat.
“Lexi!”
“Mom!” She sinks back against the hospital bed in relief, her heart pounding. “You scared me…” she says weakly.
“Oh, baby…” Suze cups her face. “Are you okay, honey…”
Lexi nods. “Just a headache…”
“What the fuck was that boy thinking?” Suze is shaking her head. “He was out of his mind…”
“Mom, come on…” Lexi doesn’t want to play the advocate for Tucker right now, not when she’s also furious. Suze’s anger is just going to make her defensive.
Suze finds a doctor, pulls her in to look over Lexi and give her the all clear to go home. “She should probably stay overnight.” The doctor frowns at Suze, who looks to Lexi.
“It’s your call, Lex. How are you feeling?”
Lexi shakes her head, thinking of the shadows in the corner. She’s freaked out and wants to be in her own room, warm and pink and familiar.
Suze bundles her up, wrapping a jacket around her shoulders and ushers her out to Ron’s Escalade. “Hey, kiddo, how you doing?” Her stepfather is a nice guy, a little standoffish, not really sure of where he stands in the lives of the two nearly adult girls who’d come into his life along Suze, but he seemed to genuinely care for her mother and she liked that.
“I’m fine,” she says. She wants to take the painkillers and curl up in bed. She can’t sleep, because of the concussion, but getting comfy in a familiar place is what she needs now more than anything to settle her nerves.
“What do you need?” Suze asks as they walk inside. Ron’s big house feels huge and dark and empty. Lexi shivers slightly. “Drink? Food? Painkillers?”
“I’ve got it.” Lexi feels awkward with her mothers full attention, she’s not sure what to do with it. “I’m just going to make some cocoa and go to bed.”
“Are you sure? I can do it for you if you want me to…” Lexi waves her mother off. Suze has never been great in the kitchen, and Lexi knows the offer might end in another disaster that Lexi has to clean up and she’s too tired to deal with it tonight.
“I’ve got it. I’ll be fine!”
She takes her hot chocolate upstairs, and strips off her cheerleading uniform pulling on her comfiest, rattiest pajamas…she should shower, but she cant stand the thought of standing for another minute. She pulls the ribbon from her messy curls, combing out the snarls. Her eyes stray to her reflection in the small mirror above her vanity – and she jumps. She still has a streak of dried blood against her cheek. She whimpers slightly, the images from the woods flashing back in her head – hooded figures and snakes – she wipes at the dried mark, grabbing a makeup wipe to help, then climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She can almost hear it again – the whispering, the hissing…
She tries to think of anything else – Cassie, her upcoming French exam, her shaky back handspring – and then her brain sets on Fezco. His voice, calm and steady, telling her she was going to be okay, springs back into her mind. His blue eyes were so deep as he’d gazed down at her – she’s read before that colors can have an effect on psychosis – blues are supposed to make you calm or something.
She breathes deeply, in and out, watching the shadows on the wall.