Fallocaust (The Fallocaust Series) (88 page)

My stomach gave a upset churn. In my mind I had started running back to Reaver’s basement ten seconds ago, but my feet still remained glued to the ground. I don’t know how long I had just stood there looking at the door.

“Keys, Killian?”

I gave a slow and nervous nod. I opened my satchel and brought out my house keys. One for the front, and the back and our shed.

I gave Reaver the keys, they jingled as they shook in my hand.

My sentry boyfriend gave me a small smile, he knew I was being silly and I knew I was being silly. I took a few deep breaths.

“I’m going to ask Redmond, or one of those guys to get my keys from Greyson.” There was another jingle as he unlocked my door. He turned the knob, and as he handed me the keys back. “You should have your own copy. Unless you ever wanted to go back here?”

The palpitations in my chest answered his question, and since I knew he was listening to it I didn’t bother voicing exactly what I thought of that.

“Do you want me to go inside first?” His voice was so kind.

I saw my kitchen for the first time in months. I nodded, trying to make the happiness of getting my own keys outweigh the horror of seeing my house again. I turned my face away as the smell of my home brought back memories I didn’t know if I was ready to experience.

“Please.” I managed to give him a smile back, but immediately my eyes flicked back to the kitchen.

Reaver stepped into the kitchen and looked around, he put his hands on his hips. The dry floorboards creaked under the weight of his boots. It made my teeth grind. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in here.”

That caught my attention. I swallowed my anxiety and stepped inside. I looked at his back as he casually strolled around my kitchen and sitting area. His hands traced over one of my mothers bouquets of plastic flowers.

“When did you come in here?”

My boyfriend opened my kitchen cupboards and started pulling out my remaining canned food. “Besides when I grabbed your soap and stuff? When Matt had told me you were missing. I ran back here hoping you had just gone to sleep early.” Reaver pointed by my feet. I looked down and saw dried dirt in the shape of boot prints. I visually traced their trail. They went up my stairs and disappeared.

I followed them until the edge of the stairs, with my sneakers filling each print I walked up the staircase. My heart seemed coated in a thin layer of ice that cracked with every thud. I heard Reaver behind me.

I got to the top of the stairs and saw the boot prints lead into my room. “You knew where my bedroom was?” I asked curiously. I walked into my bedroom and saw them stop at my bed, then turn and leave. They didn’t go into my parents room at all like he knew the layout perfectly.

Reaver was quiet behind me. I reached down and picked up an old book I had been reading. I put it down and turned to see what he was doing.

I was surprised to see he was uncomfortable. His hands were behind his back, and he was staring very intently at the corner of my room. Which held nothing but a wash bucket, a dresser and some clothes.

“I could have ended it, that first night...” Reaver whispered, so faintly I could barely here it.

“What?” I asked, I turned around but as I did he flushed and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. He walked past me and started opening the window.

“You can tell me, love,” I said lightly, I tried to put my hand on his shoulder but he walked away.

Reaver climbed out of my window and balanced himself on the very thin roof ledge below.

He could have ended it that first night... I didn’t know what he meant by that. I knew better than to get something out of him he didn’t want to tell me. Instead I stood there and passed him nails. Asher wouldn’t pry, so I wouldn’t either.

Reaver took a nail from me and pinched between his teeth .He hammered away at my bedroom window. Soon I was shrouded in darkness.

When the hammer banged against my window for the last time, I moved to my parents bedroom.

It was closed, and it had been closed since they had died.

I nervously wrung my hands. Ever since I had spent time with Perish I had started doing that more. Reaver had noticed a few times, sounding very snippy when he pointed it out but every time I felt stressed out I found myself automatically do it. I mentally chastised myself and dropped my hands to my sides.

I stood in front of the white, chipped door and instead of wringing I tried to give myself a small pep talk.

Mom was gone, Dad was gone. They were never coming back, they were dead and hiding from their memories wont do you any good. You have Reaver now, he’ll be there for you.

I turned the door handle, it was cold, sterile under my touch.

My parents would never be able to meet my wonderful boyfriend, they would never know that Reaver was amazing. That he was kind to me, loving, protective and... just a perfect boyfriend to me, even though he was a chimera. I wish Mom could have seen that before she died. She died thinking there would be no one in the world to take care of me. I should visit their graves and tell her how great he was. Maybe somewhere she was listening.

Well maybe talking now would help. “I am okay, Mom,” I said quietly to myself. “I have Reaver and as long as I have him, I’ll be okay.” I pushed the door open and took a step inside their bedroom.

It was already partially darkened by Reaver in the window. Already starting to bang the first piece of wood into the frame.

My eyes fell first to where the mattress had been. Inside I felt sick as I saw the greasy outline that still was beside the bed. Where my dad had rolled off during the night.

My father, his face was green, he had foamy red blood seeping from his mouth. He had been seizing, like Reaver had, but this had been different. I remember with every jolt, every spastic twitch the white worms would fall from his orifices. Falling like rain on to the floor.

I jumped as Reaver opened the window from the outside, he popped his head through the space between the window frame and the boards. “Are you okay?” His voice was so sweet... so caring. He was really trying hard to make this easy on me. Actually it was like he wasn’t even trying anymore. Ever since he defected from Aras he had been so much more kind and considerate. Well to a point, he was still Reaver.

I tried to swallow but my throat had gotten parched. For a moment I felt like I was going to gag.
No, I was okay. I was okay.

I nodded and walked to the window. I handed him some nails.

“Was there anything you wanted to grab?” Reaver asked, pinching a couple nails between his lips, another board went up.

“I’ll grab the money, and some books, spices, food...” I forced myself to sound okay, though my eyes kept trailing back to the stain in the wood. My mothers was in the living room. I had a rug over it. I remember the maggots had gotten into the valley between the floor boards. I had to pick them out with a knife. They split open, and oozed everywhere.

The smell.. the smell. It clawed its way up your nose, infiltrated your brain and coated any other sense in its thick fetid aroma. That smell stays with you, it imprints in you so even the slightest reminder brings you back.

I gagged, I turned and walked out of the room without another word. I ran to my old bathroom before I started throwing up in the tub.

I heard a few more hammers as I vomited all of my lunch, I was glad Reaver wasn’t coming to my side. The faster he finished the faster we could leave.

I lurched again, balancing myself with a hand on the cold ceramic and another on the toilet. I was puking all over my clean tub. I had bleached it so many times it was glistening.

One more gag, the tub sprayed with pieces of rat meat and green beans. I wiped my mouth and spat.

I leaned back on my knees and tried to catch my breath. Being back here seemed surreal. In my mind I expected to hear my mother behind me asking if I was okay. I had been sick a lot in Skyfall, I remember she used to buy me ginger tea from the shop to settle my stomach. Now... now painkillers and xanax did the best job of settling me.

I heard the banging of a hammer, the attic windows were being boarded up now. Then we would be done... I wiped both my hands all the way down my face. The smell of vomit and sour bile filling my once clean bathroom. I made a move to get up, bracing myself against my knees. I turned and stood.

I screamed and jumped back, almost falling into the tub.

Behind the door was the bathroom was a dead... something. About the size of a large cat, though it was so decayed and rotten I couldn’t tell what size it had been.

Its grey patchy fur had been shaken from its body during its decay and its stick like ribs were showing through a quagmire of green flesh. The pit of mortification was moving, as little grain like worms pulsed and writhed like a single consciousness.

I screamed again and pushed away from it. I wedged myself in between the bathtub and the toilet and started to wail. I felt my mind go to mush and my fight or flight instincts kick in. Though for me there was a third option. Make myself as small as possible and cry.

I shut my eyes tight, ignoring the smell of decay. I didn’t know how I had missed the stench before.

My eyes snapped open as the door swung wide, but as it did the corpse was pushed up against the wall. I watched a streak of rotten brown blood and fur follow behind it, maggots raining across the tile like spilled rice.

Several of them landing beside me. I looked down and saw them wiggling. Their small bodies writhing, and their black heads moving around in confusion.

Some were on me, they were on me.

I let out a bordering on hysterical shriek and felt myself get hoisted up by the shoulders.

I turned and clung to him as I felt my mind breakdown. I launched into a panic attack and it was a bad one.

“Give him to me.” I heard Reaver say. Wait, who was holding me? I was passed to his strong arms and I felt him run with me downstairs. I could hear someone walking behind us.

Cold air came to my ragged breathing but I still could smell the corpse. Reaver tried to put me down but I clung to him like a scared kitten. He sat down on the faded grey wood instead and held me tight. Even with someone else there he was holding me.

“There was a rotting scaver in there.” Fuck it was Asher, he had picked me up. I had clung to him! Uhg. Where did he come from? Sneaky fuck.

“He has a phobia with maggots, his parents died very slowly in that house.” I felt bitter pills on my lips. I wanted to tell him not to tell that ass that but the panic attack had an iron grip on my throat. I put the pill under my tongue. Feeling my mind spiral and twist like a cement mixer. I kept trying to gasp for breath but the choke hold only managed me short wheezy gasps.

“Poor guy.” Asher clucked his tongue, he meant it sympathetic but in my ears his voice reeked of judgement. I wanted him to fuck off, I didn’t want him around. “Good thing you did it today though, it’s starting to rain.”

I started to feel my breathing start to normalize and my racing thoughts started to slow down. I looked to see that Asher was right, it had started raining.

As my vitals lowered, I felt Reaver squeeze me. “You okay, Killi Cat?” He whispered quiet enough that Asher couldn’t hear. I knew how much he hated showing affection in public, I understood. Though if he showed me some love in front of Asher it might deter him from hitting on my boyfriend.

I nodded, I was starting to feel a bit better. “Can we just grab what we wanted and go home?” I pleaded in a small voice. So much for being manly... and with Asher here too. I hated myself.

Reaver nodded and a few moments later we both got up. He held me steady with a firm arm. “Why don’t you sit by the table and give me a run down where to find things. Then we’ll hide out in our basement for awhile. Stuff you with more drugs.”

I smiled, that made me feel better. I wanted to kiss him to thank him for his curtsies, but it would be in front of Asher and more importantly my mouth tasted like vomit.

I sat down by the kitchen table and tried to concentrate on not throwing up. I gave Reaver a short list of what I had wanted to bring home, and where to find them. He ran upstairs leaving me in my living room... with Asher.

I felt uneasy as he leaned up against the door frame. His straight auburn hair had fallen partially over his eyes. I watched as he brushed it away, his long fingers curling it behind his ears. I should pierce my ears... he had piercings, maybe those would make me look more adult.

No if you wanted to be more adult you shouldn’t flip out over maggots and rotting corpses. Fucking coward.

I heard Reaver scrounging around upstairs. Asher was still silent, though his eyes watched me. Not piercing eyes like Reaver’s, that seemed to strip you bare and exposed with nothing more than a glance. But staring eyes that seemed to take in every movement I made like he was analysing me.

Trying to figure me out, asshole? Trying to find out why Reaver likes me?

My teeth clenched. I sat in the chair with my father’s jacket on it I might snap at him. No one sat in that chair, it was my dad’s chair. My hands clenched with my teeth, I suppressed a hiss.

I tried to look everywhere else but at him. Kitchen counters... neat and without clutter. My over hang of pots and pans, all organized by size... my cans of food in cloth bags now.

“So where in Skyfall were you from?” Asher asked in a cheery voice.

I stopped looking around, I forced my eyes on him even though it was the last thing I wanted.

To my annoyance he had left the door frame and was now sitting in front of my piano. I got up and walked into the living room where it was, and sat down very stiffly on my couch.

I tried to suppress it but I was glaring at him. “I’d ask you the same.” Oh gosh I said that very icy. I was surprised at myself but I didn’t show it. I bit my tongue almost as punishment. It was one thing to say those things in my head but...

Asher chuckled, he played a few notes on the piano. “Moros District also known as the shitty slum district.”

“Tamerlan Factory,” I replied, since he had been polite enough to answer my question, and more importantly polite enough to not draw attention to my sour tone. “I came here over two years ago. I was fifteen.” I picked up one of my old couch pillows and twisted the fabric in my hand. “How did you get out?”