Alex Barclay - The Drowning Child

His father was there for Shannon Fuller, who was now rushing into the yard like a puppy dog. Caleb watched them come together like they’d been thrown in an explosion, and his father was walking her backward into the house as the rain fell, and neither of them cared, like they were in a fucking movie. His dad was old, and this made him sick to his stomach. He watched as they made it only as far as the shelter of the porch before his father had hiked up Shannon’s skirt and was kissing her so hard, he...

Caleb shuddered. He remembered the week before the school dance, telling Aaron what he saw, using it like a weapon. He told him his mom was a whore. He called her Shannon Fulfiller. And Aaron answered in the strangest way. He could still remember what he said, how easy it was for him to say it, how open he was, how he hadn’t even sneered.

‘At least my mom loves me,’ Aaron had said.

‘You fucking pussy,’ Caleb said. He had mimicked him. ‘“At least my mom loves me.” Pussy.’

‘Your mom fucking hates you,’ said Aaron. ‘She never wanted you. She tried to fucking drown you when you were a baby, you fucking loser. She couldn’t even stand you for that long, probably got sick of you soon as she saw your ugly fucking face.’

‘You’re full of shit,’ said Caleb.

‘It’s the truth!’ said Aaron. ‘Only reason you’re still alive is because my mom came along and saw what was happening. She took you off of your mom at Clearwater Creek. She was holding your stupid head under the water. I can’t believe my mom saved your loser fucking life.’

Caleb felt cold, shivery, like the world around him was warm and colorful, and he was black and white, and he was ice. Nothing that came to mind he could say to Aaron: But my mom loves me! My mom is the only one who loves me! We’re a team! We... we love each other! She’s ... always there for me. You’re a liar, Aaron Fuller! Aaron Full of Lies! You’re a fucking liar!

But something had told Caleb that this was the truth. He sensed it in his pounding chest, his sick stomach, his burning flesh, his flaring pupils.

My mother tried to kill me. Why? Why would she do that?

He couldn’t bear to ask her. He couldn’t bear it. But he would. He would come back to her, and it would be different now. She would have missed him. She would be so glad he was back. All he needed to do was get his fucking father to stay the fuck out of everything. And Alice.

The night of the middle school dance, Caleb had watched Aaron Fuller staring at Molly Gardner. The prettiest girl in the class, Molly had a dark streak; she was fun, but she liked creepy stuff. Aaron had been telling the story of Lizzie, the girl who haunted Cabin 8 at Lake Verny, how he had seen her, how she had a huge slice out of her leg, how she would scream and nothing would come out.

Caleb took Molly Gardner’s cell phone when she was on the dance floor. He opened SnapChat and typed three things: an emoji ghost beside a house, a clock that read midnight, and a kiss. He sent it to Aaron Fuller. Then he deleted it.

And, of course, Aaron had shown up. And Caleb was waiting. And there was a barrel of rainwater. And drowning is silent. And easy. So easy with just a knee pressed into his back.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to answer Shannon Fuller, to tell her all that. So he told her everything.

Ren ran into The Crow Bar, her sidearm raised. Shannon Fuller was standing with her back to her, in the middle of the floor, her arm outstretched, holding a handgun, swaying back and forth.

Oh my God. What have you done?

Caleb Veir was lying at Shannon’s feet, in a growing pool of blood from a gunshot wound to the chest.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Shannon turned to Ren, wild-eyed, pointed the gun her way. ‘Don’t go near him. Stay the fuck away from him.’

Caleb was still breathing, making terrible gurgling sounds.

‘Give me the gun, Shannon.’

Shannon didn’t move.

‘Give me the gun,’ said Ren. ‘Don’t make this any worse.’

Shannon handed it to her, fear flickering in her eyes.

‘Stay back,’ said Ren. ‘Please let me help him.’

She checked Caleb’s pulse.

Thank God, thank God, thank God.

‘No!’ said Shannon. ‘No!’ Her arm shot out, and she grabbed a fistful of Ren’s hair, started to drag her backward.

Owww! Fuuuck!

Ren reached up, grabbed Shannon’s wrist, dug her thumb into the right pressure point, got her to release her grip. She kicked out, striking Shannon’s knee, bringing her to the ground with a scream.

‘Sorry,’ said Ren, ‘but you have to stay back. You don’t want him to die, Shannon. You do not want this.’ She returned to Caleb’s side, started to do chest compressions.

‘Is John here?’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Shannon. ‘I locked him in the cold room. I can’t stand the sight of him. I wanted him to see Caleb die, I did, I really did. What is wrong with me? I loved that man so much... I loved him.’ She was sobbing uncontrollably, pointing at Caleb. ‘He killed Aaron,’ she was saying. ‘And he killed Luke Monroe, told him to come look at the fishes in the pond, then held his little head under. He just told us all this terrible stuff.’

Oh, God.

‘He’s a psychopath!’ said Shannon. ‘He doesn’t deserve to be saved! He’s a monster, he’s a monster.’

Ren turned to her. ‘Listen to me, Shannon. Listen. You need him to live. You do. OK? You need him to make it.’

‘I don’t want him to!’ screamed Shannon. ‘I want him to die.’

‘You do not want to go to prison for the rest of your life,’ said Ren. ‘That’s what will happen if he dies. You need to be there for Seth. He needs you.’

‘I don’t care if I go to prison!’ said Shannon. ‘Don’t you get it? And who gives a crap about me?’

‘Seth does,’ said Ren. ‘You’re more than his aunt – you’re a mother to him. And you know it. I care about you. I want you to make it, Shannon. You have to make it. You deserve to. You’re a good person.’

Ren looked down at Caleb, at his pale face, his grim, downturned mouth.

Her heart plunged.

Duke Rawlins: the destruction he wrought. He took my friends, he took my boyfriend.

He was a monster. And he started out as a boy monster.

What if he hadn’t made it? How many horrible deaths would have been avoided? How many lives would have been saved?

My arms... won’t move.

She thought of Luke Monroe and his curly blond hair, how his curiosity was leveraged, how he was lured to look at fishes in a pond.

The innocence.

My arms... what is going on?

She glanced up at Shannon. They locked eyes.

No one would know. If I just stopped trying to save this boy right now, no one would know.

Ren looked down at Caleb. His eyes began to flicker. She looked back up at Shannon.

Shannon wouldn’t tell. She’d back me up. I’d back her up.

Desperate, animal choking sounds were coming from Caleb’s throat. Ren looked down at him.

He’s a monster.

He is twelve years old.

He’s a psychopath.

Ren’s arms were stiff, unmoving.

He is so fucking damaged.

But someone damaged him.

Her arms started to work, she started to push down, her movements rhythmic.

Irreparably, though.

Irreparably damaged him.

Ren stopped again. Duke Rawlins’ face bloomed in her mind, how he lay dying in the foyer of Safe Streets, how she dragged Joe Lucchesi off him.

Her arms wouldn’t move.