Page 40 of Haunting Goats

She hesitates, and I can feel the agitation in me growing. I continue to cradle her in my arms as I stand up and prepare to leave. She doesn’t need to be here when Jake wakes up, and quite frankly, neither do I. As we exit, I envision a future with my princess—one commencing with bloodshed and ending with a happily ever after.

CHAPTER 25

LYRIC

The room feels colder than normal. I’m reminded that I’m only half-dressed when I feel the bottom of Attie’s worn hoodie graze the middle of the tattoo on my thigh. Attie sits across from me, and he holds my hands in his as he inhales a deep breath. Every time we touch, it’s the most soothing experience. I never want that feeling of safety to end.

“Remember, I’m in control now. If I ask for your opinion, it’s simply out of respect. I’ll still gauge how I want to proceed with the information you provide me. Understand?”

And then he says stupid shit like that and I want to karate chop him in the throat.

“Yes, sir!”

The sarcasm oozes out of me as I really try not to show my developing turmoil.

Last time I felt something too intensely, I dissolved into thin air. Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready for another disappearing act so soon… or ever again.

He looks at me, unimpressed.

“Let’s mess with him a little bit before we kill him. He tortured you for years. He can handle a few hours.”

He plays with his bushy beard and shrugs before he continues, “Maybe we can drive him cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

He’d better be joking. I know I can’t go through with this plan on my own, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want proper justice. I try to wrap my mind around his lack of horror and creativity.

“That’s it? You just wanna drive the man crazy? I’m speechless… and confused.”

This feels so anticlimactic, and I feel as though this won’t be sufficient for me to go home.

“I didn’t say that. That is only part of it.”

He flashes me a toothy grin, he’s comparable to a child. Atticus seems so proud of himself. So confident in whatever he’s not telling me.

“Attie… you’re making me nervous.”

I’m not sure why I’m questioning him; he hasn’t steered me wrong so far.

He drops my hands into my lap and straightens.

“Do you trust me, Lyr? Your answer determines what happens next.”

I feel bad that he feels he even needs to ask that, but I can’t control these pieces of myself—the ones that gnaw and claw at my insides—the frightened and uncertain pieces that scream into the void.

“Of course.” I hiss.

“What kind of question is that?” I ask in offense.

I’ve never trusted anyone. From a young age, I learned that the monsters under my bed were really all around me.

“Show me you trust me then. Stop asking questions and learn to be patient, Strawberry Girl. This’ll never work if you don’t relinquish control. We’ve been over this.”

I know Attie’s right. I’m not giving up; I’m simply giving in—there’s a difference.

I nod in agreement. I’m done arguing.

“Let’s give it a couple of days before we do anything. Make sure this is still what you want. Rest. Get your head on straight.”

Days go by and I’m glad I’ve taken this time for myself. Attie’s been working really hard at helping me stay regulated, and I’m still trying to understand the ins and outs of the In-Between while keeping my anxiety in check. We plan on going to Jake’s room tomorrow. Uncertain if I’m ready, I remind myself that I need to be. I can’t afford to be wishy-washy about my feelings—not with this—not when it involves another person’s life and my freedom.