Page 26 of Fear Me Not

He’s so presumptuous. I don’t meet his eye and I keep my lips sealed shut as he turns and leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him.

I sink back onto my bed and put my face in my hands, tears threatening again. I don’t want to keep crying. I want to be braver than this, stronger.

I think of how I’d figured out the truth of what had happened to Tobias—finding the Saint Christopher necklace. I hadn’t given it any thought at the time—so much had happened—but now I look back, I wonder. It had been as though someone had been directing me to find it. The stick doll had literally flipped off the bedside cabinet like someone had deliberately knocked it, and it had landed right beside where the necklace had been.

A shiver runs through me, and I’d swear the air grows chilly.

It’s hard not to be spooked when I’m living in such an old building, and with Blake’s talk when I’d first arrived of the walls absorbing energies and the things I’ve seen since.

What if I died out there, and everything that’s happening since is my afterlife, or it’s all a dream I’m having as I’m freezing to death?

These kinds of thoughts aren’t helping. I don’t know where they’ve come from. It’s like they keep springing into my head, unbidden. Why do I keep doubting my own reality? Is my head really that messed up.

I guess it’s hardly surprising with Blake’s talk of hotels with memories, plus my near-death experience. I’ve only recently lost my dad, too, which is always going to make me think about what happens to us when we’re gone. I’d love to believe our loved ones will be there when we pass, holding out a hand to guide us into the afterlife, but I’m more convinced that we just close our eyes and then there is nothing.

I think of his ashes, still sitting in a cupboard somewhere in the back room of the church. I hope my father’s spirit isn’t angry about being abandoned in such a way. Would Father Montague have been expecting to hear from me by now? Will he be worried that he hasn’t, or will he tell himself that I’ve just been enjoying my freedom, now I no longer have a sick parent to care for? I wonder if anyone in the town has put together that they now have more than one missing young person—my sister, Tobias, and myself. Will they think Tobias and I have run off together, young love, and care no more about it?

I hope so.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if someone might have been trying to get me to see the truth when they pointed me toward the necklace.

Who, though? And why?

Conversely, I also remember feeling like the hotel didn’t want me to leave. Like it had called out my leaving to the men within its walls, had stuck the door shut to slow me down.

Then there was the person on the road… Had she been trying to help me or prevent me from leaving?

Or had she wanted me to take her with me?

These are crazy thoughts; I know that. Am I already suffering from cabin fever? Am I spiraling? If it was springtime, and I was able to walk the grounds and hike through the woods, would I be thinking differently? Not knowing for sure if I’m in control of my thoughts or actions is almost as frightening as the hotel and the men who live here.

15

LEVI

With a swing of my arms, my muscles tense, I chop the axe into the wood. It makes a resounding crack, the sound echoing across the mountains. The acoustics always change when the snow lies on the ground. Under the metal blade, the large chunk of wood splits. It’s satisfying, being out here. We already have plenty of kindling, but I enjoy the work. Anything physical is better than sitting around, driving myself crazy. I need to keep moving or my thoughts take over.

Aspen is doing all she can to avoid us. It’s been over a week since Dov brought her back from the accident. I hadn’t given her credit for her stubbornness or strength of character. She’d meant it when she’d said she didn’t want any of us near her, and she’s stuck to it. Is she really going to make it through winter by shutting us out?

Dov has retreated into his near spectral state. I wonder if he still visits her at night. She’s clued up now on the way he’d been drugging her water, so I imagine she only drinks it fresh from the faucet. It means she’s more likely to notice when he visits her.

I’ve always been angry, but now I’m furious.

I miss her.

It twists me up inside. I don’t want to feel this way. It’s easier when it’s just sex, but now I find myself worrying about her wellbeing.

Perhaps I should treat her differently, comfort her, say kind words, give her something to hope for.

But doing that will only open my heart to her more, and then what will happen when winter ends and she leaves? If she makes it through the winter and doesn’t do something stupid, that is—something else stupid.

Either way, I’ll be without her for good, and I’m not sure how my cold, dead heart will handle that.

Except it’s not cold and dead any longer, is it? She brought it back to life, at least a little. I sense the first threads of life, like a seed sprouting in the dark, a tendril of a shoot seeking the surface.

Maybe I should do a Dov and sneak into her room while she’s sleeping. I could be near her without having to interact with her. I understand what he’s been getting off on all these weeks.

I remember how her eyes had lit up after I’d given her the reader pen. It was so fucking dumb. Just a tiny piece of technology. I don’t think it was the item itself that had caused the reaction, but that someone had done something for her. Someone had thought about her and wanted to make her life easier.