Rachel Hawkins - Grim

He jerked up, and nearly tumbled off the bed, his heart slamming in his chest. Was it the wolf? Had it returned? But the tap came again, softer than the crashing of the wolf against the door, and a faint, familiar voice drifted through the walls.

“Percival? Percival, are you there?”

Maya. Percival scrambled out of the bedroom and raced to the door, flinging it open.

And there she was. As beautiful and perfect as ever, though her hair was slightly mussed, and her green eyes were wide with fear.

“Oh, Percival, you’re alive! Thank goodness!” Crossing the threshold, she threw herself at Percival and hugged him tightly. Percival froze, every nerve in his body standing at attention, so startled he didn’t have the presence of mind to hug her back.

Maya drew away. “I was so worried,” she said, her eyes darting over Percival’s shoulder to the room beyond. “I have to tell you something, Percival. About...my grandmother. Will you let me come in?”

Percival was fairly certain he knew what she was going to say about her grandmother, but he quickly nodded. “Of course,” he said, and Maya smiled, following him through the door. “S-sorry about the mess. It’s been...a rough night. I’ll make us something to eat.”

“No need,” Maya said, closing the door after her. “I’ve already eaten this morning.”

“So,” Percival began, heading toward the kitchen. So many questions. So many things to say. Where did he begin. “How...how is your grandmother?”

“She’s dead.”

Percival spun back. Maya stood in front of the door with an odd look on her face. Her eyes were cold as she stared at Percival from across the room.

“Your brothers killed her,” Maya went on, and she wasn’t smiling now. “Came to our hut that night and burned it to the ground. They hung my grandmother from a tree and set her on fire, but they only dragged me into the forest, stabbed me a few times and left me to die. They thought she was the witch.” Maya smiled then, but it was a terrible, hard smile, her eyes gleaming in the shadows. “They should’ve made certain to burn us both.”

In a daze, Percival noticed all the locks on the door behind her had been thrown. He took a step back, but there was no other exit. Nowhere to run.

“I found your basket that day,” Maya went on softly. “I knew you had seen me and Isaac. He had been pursuing me for days, and I wanted to speak with him alone, to tell him to stop chasing me. He didn’t take it well, which is what you saw at the edge of the lake.” Her brow furrowed just slightly, as if in pain, before smoothing out again. “I was going to tell you the next morning, but your brothers came for me that night, and I never got the chance.”

“I didn’t know,” Percival whispered. “I didn’t know what they would do.”

Maya shook her head. “Yes, you did,” she whispered back. “On some small, subconscious level, you knew what they were capable of. They came for us that night because of you, Percival. Because you told them to.”

“Maya.” Percival held out a hand. “I loved you.”

She gave a tiny smile, though her eyes had started to glow, casting eerie green light over the walls and floor. “You know the saddest part?” she murmured. “I was really starting to fall for you. But it turns out you’re nothing but an evil pig, just like your brothers.”

And then she stepped forward, no longer Maya, and her huge, dark shadow filled the room. Percival screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

But there was no one around to hear.

* * * * *

Grief hangs heavy on my bones, at times nearly suffocating me. My world has turned shadowy and muted, and the strongest emotion I can muster is confusion. There’s anger, as well, but it lurks under the surface, too smothered by weariness to ignite.

Ben’s patience must be wearing thin, but I don’t know how not to be this way.

“How’s your mom?” he asks.

“The same.”

“Still sticking to her room?”

“Yeah.” I nestle further into the crook of his arm. His finger traces my eyebrow and cheek. These days Ben is my only comfort, but even he can’t fill the void entirely.

“I saw her again,” I whisper.

He doesn’t ask whom. Instead, he lifts my chin, turning my face so our eyes meet. “And?”

“She came just before midnight, like before. Walked past our bedroom, almost in slow motion.” I have to swallow because the words are thick in my throat. “She was so pale and beautiful, it made me ache.”

He nods. “You miss her.”

“Miss her? It’s more than that.”

“I know, Claire.”

But he can’t know. Not really.

I don’t tell him my plan. As much as he claims otherwise, Ben doesn’t understand my need for my sister. He only remembers our shouting and door slamming. The chill of our punishing silence. Can I expect him to forget how I groused about Julia changing the way she dressed, the books she read, for her drama-geek boyfriend? Or how her narrowed eyes burned a hole of resentment straight through Ben every time they were in the same room?

Ben saw her as my enemy. Our enemy.

And I encouraged it.

But I’ve let go of all that. My brain may be murky and muffled, but the loss of her has brought certain things into sharp focus. We shared the same womb. Later it was the same crib, clasping fingers and toes as we slept. When our drooling mouths first formed words, we spoke our own language. The two of us made a world of our own, leaving others—even our own mother—feeling like intruders.

Shadows fall as I ponder this, and the bedroom turns dark and still.

“Mom’s gonna be home soon,” I say. “She never liked you being here.”

“Let’s go, then.”

I shake my head. “I need to stay near, just in case.”

“From what you’ve told me, she won’t even notice.”

“I have to stay. But I’ll see you later, right?”

He frowns. “Claire....”

I pinch him. “Stop worrying. Kiss me instead.”

He sighs sadly before his lips meet mine.

I kiss back, trying to melt into him like I did before. His body is a comfort to me, but also dangerous in a way I once found exciting. I still do, but in the back of my mind there’s that vision of Julia, pale and fragile. Walking the hallway over and over. She’s lost, unanchored, and somehow I must ground her. But how do I bridge the divide between us?

Mom seems more mechanical than human, her face blank as she makes her slow, jerky way through each day. I’ve given up trying to talk to her. When she’s not hiding in her room, she slams kitchen cabinets and wipes counters that were never dirty in the first place. Occasionally she slumps in the living room recliner, staring at nothing. I tried to sit with her once, but her slack-faced silence was unsettling. I might as well have been sitting next to a corpse.

I prefer to stay in my room. Our room, minus Julia. Mom can’t stand to come in here, but I need to be near my sister’s things. Seeing them hurts like hell, but the pain helps me focus.

Julia will come, and this time I will somehow anchor her.

I will make her see me.

I’ve never been patient, but lately I’ve learned stillness. I sit at the foot of my bed and concentrate, trying to be as present as possible. The digital clock hums faintly, and beyond that I hear the leaves rustling outside. I sniff the air and try to parse the different odors. A vanilla candle. Nail polish remover. The mushroomy smell of gym shoes lying in the corner. The perfume Trey bought for her last birthday. I’d never liked its heavy floral notes—overdramatic just like the giver—but now the elusive whiff of it brings tears to my eyes.