Hunt

I muttered, “Ms. Patterson.”

“What?”

“I was working on my math homework for Ms. Patterson’s class. . .and then. . .I just decided to run. . .I knew he would come that night. I felt it deep within me. It made me so fucking nervous. I couldn’t finish my homework.” I froze in horror.

“The most interesting thing about your bedroom was. . .” Cain let out a long breath. “Not one inch of dust is in the room. I lay on the bed and smelled the comforter. It was freshly cleaned. Even after all these years, your mother must wash and dry the bedding every week. She must dust and vacuum all the time. She must be. . .waiting for you to come home one day.”

More tears left my eyes.

“Gaslighting is manipulation. That’s not what I’m doing.” Cain wiped at more of my tears. “Whether what I say is right or wrong, I really do believe everything I’m saying.”

I closed my eyes. “What about. . .”

“Yes?”

“What about my brother, Tate? Did you see him?”

“He slept in his room. He’s like West, falling asleep with headphones stuck in his ears. He had a notebook on his bed with lyrics scribbled on it. They weren’t bad. He could be a good rapper. He talked about society and—”

“You should not have been in there!”

“He’s like you too.” Cain pointed to the news clippings of Tate that I had taped to the wall in my bedroom. “He has old pictures of you over his desk. They’re taped up the exact same way. There is a rundown path in front of your pictures, suggesting that in his roughest moments, he paces in front of the images and talks to you.”

My throat went dry.

“Trinity—”

“Don’t call me that, Cole.”

“That’s fair.” Nodding, he put the sponge back in the small basin and put everything on the floor. Next, he rummaged through the duffle bag and pulled out something that made my whole body stiff like a wooden board.

What?

“I figured this was important to you.” He took out my teddy bear. It was encased in a plastic bag. “Your mother had it in a vacuum sealed bag. All the air had been sucked away. The plastic was tight around the bear. The bag has a double zipper seal too.”

My heartbeats raced.

He. . .really did go into my old room.

Cain studied the bear and bag. “Perhaps, she put it in this bag to keep in the scent of you. When I opened it, all I could smell was. . .you.”

My eyes watered. “Dr. Fuzzy. . .”

Cain raised him out of the bag. “The only thing that I can’t understand is why the eyes were out of. . .Dr. Fuzzy.”

Terror ripped through me. “I. . .”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “One morning. . .I just felt the need to tear the eyes out of his head.”

“What happened the night before?”

Shivering, I closed my eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“Maybe. . .” Cain cleared his throat. “Maybe, you didn’t want Dr. Fuzzy to see what was happening.”

Rage filled me. I opened my eyes. “Give me my fucking bear.”

Cain took Dr. Fuzzy out of the bag and put it on my side. Then, he picked up the basin, rose from the bed, and carried it away.

When he left the bedroom, I let go of the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Tate. He remembers me. He. . .he thinks about me. . .

I did my best to hold back any more tears from coming. So much that I swore I would choke. Bile rose up in my throat and flooded my mouth.

Mom. . .she’s cleaning my room. . .

Fighting those tears from coming, I sucked in a deep breath.

Dr. Fuzzy. . .Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Then, I cried. I wept as if my heart was breaking. My whole body shook, and the tears blurred my vision. The sobbing shook my body.

When he returned, I was a hot bawling mess. He sat down and wiped my face with a warm, wet cloth. “You should let me kill him.”

“That man, if you can call him that, is Tate’s father.”

“All of your homework was correct.”

“What?”

“I checked all of the homework problems. You were such a smart kid. Even with him in the house hurting you. So resilient, you were able to do your work correctly.”

“It was just math.”

“Had I been your age and dealing with the same stuff, I would have been failing in school.” He took out a jar from the bag. “Let me kill him.”

I glared at him. “One problem at a time, Cain.”

He twisted the top off the jar. The air filled with a honey scent. He stuck his finger inside and then pulled it out. This golden cream covered his finger. “What’s the other problem?”

“Killing you.”

He smirked. “Now who’s gaslighting?”

“Gaslighting is when a manipulator is trying to get someone else to question their own reality or memory.” I frowned. “I mean what I say.”