Cursed Page 17

  “Wait!” Pete says. “You said you’d help me. Please.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Cicely says.

  And I say, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I don’t think he can hurt me. I don’t think he ever could.”

  I feel:

  1. Afraid about leaving her alone with this maniac.

  2. A ferocious desire to confront Abby.

  After a short struggle, my rage wins over.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Cicely says.

  And I:

  1. Say, “I won’t.” And whether I believe that or not, I don’t care.

  2. Race up the stairs.

  3. Find myself in the kitchen of a normal-looking home.

  4. Follow the sound of crying into a windowless bedroom. Half the room’s mostly pink, and the other half’s mostly blue.

  Abby’s:

  1. On the bed.

  2. Curled up tight.

  “Did you do it?” I say. “Did you curse us?”

  Abby:

  1. Unfurls.

  2. Sits up.

  3. Wipes her eyes with her sleeve.

  4. Says, “I’m sorry.”

  And I realize Abby’s:

  1. Not only sorry about the past 31 days.

  2. Apologizing for ruining my life.

  The pain I feel, combined with all the other pain she’s ever put me through, floods out of me in hatred.

  So I:

  1. Jump on the bed.

  2. Push her back.

  3. Straddle her.

  4. Hold down her arms.

  5. Say, “You killed her, didn’t you?”

  “Who?” Abby says, crying.

  “My mom. You killed her. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?!?”

  And Abby:

  1. Looks away.

  2. Nods.

  3. Says, “I ate her.”

  Then I:

  1. Grip her throat with both hands, fast and easy.

  2. Squeeze.

  Of course, it’s not really Abby I’m attacking. I’m fighting the monster inside her, with the monster inside me.

  She:

  1. Fights back.

  2. Gives me #31.

  3. Stops struggling.

  4. Stares at me.

  And she’s more than my enemy right now, even she doesn’t know it. She’s my true nature finally breaking free.

  And deep down, in the darkness of my heart, I knew this time would come.

  Because an asshole like me can’t be restrained by:

  1. Lists.

  2. Numbers.

  3. Schedules.

  Eventually, poof, that fairy tale world has come to an end.

  So I keep squeezing Abby’s neck.

  And blame and fear swirl around inside me.

  Blame because of:

  1. The things she’s done.

  2. The secrets she’s kept.

  3. The real Abby.

  And fear because, if I don’t kill her, she’ll:

  1. Turn me into a rabbit and stomp me to death.

  Or:

  2. Say that special word and kill me in an instant.

  Or:

  3. Snap her fingers and zap me out of existence.

  Tears fall onto Abby’s face, and I:

  1. Can’t stand looking at her anymore.

  2. Close my eyes.

  And suddenly, I see Cicely.

  She doesn’t look at me:

  1. With I-don’t-know-what’s-got-into-you eyes.

  2. Like I’m a curse.

  To her, there’s something precious inside me.

  Something good.

  In the end, the love in my heart isn’t strong enough to keep me from murdering Abby.

  It’s the respect that saves us.

  And I:

  1. Say, “I’m sorry.”

  2. Climb off of Abby.

  3. Say, “Are you dead?”

  “I don’t think so,” Abby says.

  Then, the light in the room dims.

  Abby:

  1. Says, crackles, “Oh no.”

  2. Rushes out of bed.

  3. Searches through a drawer in her nightstand.

  “What’s wrong?” I say.

  “It’s bedtime,” Abby says. “I’m sorry, Nick. I don’t remember where I put it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Keep away from her as long as you can.”

  “Who?”

  Abby doesn’t answer.

  So I survey the room and notice:

  1. There’s no lamp or other source of light, but the dim glow still exists.

  2. A white sheet stirring on the floor.

  “Where did I put it?” Abby says.

  Then the sheet:

  1. Begins to rise.

  2. Forms a head at the apex.

  “I found it!” Abby says.

  And I jump.

  This woman taking shape before me:

  1. Points her arms me.

  2. Wriggles her fingers.

  3. Opens and closes her mouth.

  “Drink this,” Abby says, holding out a vial.

  “What is it?” I say.

  “It doesn’t matter. If you don’t drink it, the house will think you’re an intruder. Hurry!”

  Maybe Abby just wants to poison me.

  But I:

  1. Decide to trust the worry in her eyes.

  2. Drink whatever’s in the vial.

  And the white sheet woman rushes at me.

  I turn away from her to run, but she:

  1. Wraps her arms around me, from behind.

  2. Squeezes my arms and chest.

  “Let him go!” Abby says. “He’s Pete! Stop it!”

  I:

  1. Hear something inside me crack.

  2. Feel hot air against the back of my neck.

  Then the woman:

  1. Loosens her embrace.

  2. Says, whispers into my ear, “I love you.”

  3. Releases me.

  I ease myself onto a pink chair, and watch as she:

  1. Hugs Abby.

  2. Returns to the corner of the room.

  3. Collapses into a crumpled sheet on the floor.

  “Are you alright?” Abby says.

  “I think she broke a rib,” I say.

  And Abby:

  1. Says, “Oh no.”

  2. Opens the drawer again.

  3. Removes some vials.

  4. Sets them on the nightstands.

  “Who was that?” I say.

  Abby:

  1. Says, “She wasn’t anybody.”

  2. Uses a dropper to drip a yellow liquid into a glass of water.

  3. Says, “She’s just part of the house, you know?”

  Obviously, I don’t know, but I don’t tell Abby that.

  Instead, I say, “I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Abby says. “Our curses respond to each other, remember? They make you hurt me.”

  “So you really are cursed?”

  “I lied about a lot of stuff, but not that.”

  Part of me wants to believe that I’m not responsible for my actions.

  But still, I say, “The curses didn’t make me choke you.”

  And Abby says, “But maybe they amplified your anger or something.”

  “Either way, I could’ve stopped myself before I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  Abby:

  1. Hands me a cup of purple liquid.

  2. Says, “This should help with the pain and the healing.”

  Then I:

  1. Drink.

  2. Say, “You didn’t really eat my mom, did you.”

  Abby shakes her head.

  Maybe her curse forced her to lie about my mom, or maybe she just wanted to be punished. At this point, I don’t really care the reason.

  “But you did curse us,” I say.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “Why?”

  And while my bloodlus
t’s gone, maybe I sound as furious as I feel.

  Because Abby:

  1. Flinches.

  2. Sniffles.

  3. Sits on the bed.

  4. Picks at a scab on her ankle.

  “Well?” I say.

  “I don’t know,” Abby says. “I finally found a way out of the house, so I went to the grocery store. And I saw you and Cicely, and you both seemed so nice and funny. I liked you.”

  “So you decided to curse us?”

  “Yeah.”

  I snicker, and a jagged pain explodes in my chest. “Why would you hurt people you like?”

  “Because I’m not a good person, Nick.”

  “Why the tennis ball and the slapping?”

  “I don’t know. I cursed you, but I let your souls choose the manifestations.”

  “Would the world really end if Cicely dropped the ball?”

  “I don’t know that either. I mean, maybe she really does have the power to choose the fate of the world, and the curse exploited that. Or maybe Cis was being tricked.”

  “Is there anything you do know?”

  Abby:

  1. Shrugs.

  2. Picks at her scab again.

  And I stand up, slow and careful.

  “What’re you doing?” Abby says.

  “I’m going back to the basement,” I say. “I shouldn’t’ve left Cicely alone with Pete.”

  “Cicely’s fine. Trust me. Pete would never hurt anybody.”

  I almost laugh again. “You betrayed me, Abby. I can’t trust you anymore.”

  “But Pete really didn’t do anything. He talked to you in the basement today, and that time I brought you here. But I did everything else. Pete was just doing what I told him.”

  I:

  1. Head toward the door.

  2. Say, “Goodbye, Abby.”

  “Wait!” Abby says. “There’s a barrier around the room. The same kind I put in the cabin, you know? There’s no way to get out of here until morning.”

  “If you’re so powerful, why don’t you just remove the barrier?”

  “I’ve tried, and I can’t. I can get us out of the kitchen during the day, but my parents put a lot of themselves into this room. And they’re stronger than me.”

  I’m almost positive Abby’s lying to me again, so I reach for the doorknob.

  “Don’t!” Abby says.

  But I do.

  And the fear and the pain:

  1. Consume me.

  2. Overpower my desire to escape.

  So I pull my hand away.

  “Nick,” Abby says, touching my back.

  “Stay away from me!” I say.

  Because I know Abby:

  1. Used reverse psychology to get me to touch the barrier.

  2. Feeds on my terror.

  3. Wants to devour me whole, once and for all.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you,” Abby says.

  I run to the other side of the room.

  And all I can do now is:

  1. Cry.

  2. Beg.

  3. Wait.

  So I do.

  But the inevitable doesn’t happen.

  Eventually, I:

  1. Feel somewhat secure again.

  2. Wipe away my tears.

  Then the remaining light in the bedroom fades to pitch black.

  “We have to get in bed,” Abby says. “Hurry.”

  “I’m not getting in there with you,” I say.

  “You have to. Lights out is our last warning before we get punished. Please, Nick. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

  And I:

  1. Don’t want to either.

  2. Head in the direction of the bed.

  But I’m not going fast enough, apparently, because:

  1. My entire body itches with a dull pain.

  2. The voice of the sheet woman says, whispers, “Little boys who defy their parents burn in hell.”

  With every second, my agony intensifies.

  I:

  1. Yelp as I climb onto the bed.

  2. Lie down.

  3. Tremble.

  “I should’ve warned you sooner,” Abby says. “I was thinking about other stuff, and I lost track of time. I’m so stupid.”

  “Is there anything else I need to do?”

  “Just don’t move. She’ll do the rest.”

  So I lie still in the darkness as:

  1. A blanket lowers onto my body.

  2. The female presence tucks me in, tight.

  3. Cold lips press against my cheek.

  “She’ll leave us alone now,” Abby says. “I mean, if we stay like this until morning.”

  “What about Cicely?” I say. “Is she safe?”

  “Yeah. Eco won’t hurt her unless she tries to come in here. And Pete’ll explain that to her.”

  “We’re not allowed to get out of bed?”

  “No.”

  “What if I have to use the bathroom?”

  “We have to go in here. I know that seems gross, but it won’t leave a mess or anything. She always keeps everything nice and clean.”

  I shiver. “Who is she?”

  “Like I said before, she’s not really a person or anything. Eco’s more like an idea. Like an expression of my parents’ intentions, you know? They created her to take care of us when they weren’t around. Me and Pete, I mean. He’s my little brother.”

  “Oh. But why is she still around? You’re both adults.”

  “Eco doesn’t know that. My parents made her back when we were kids, and she still responds to stimuli the same way.”

  “Why haven’t your parents deactivated her?”

  Abby sighs. “They’ve been gone for a long time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. They’re horrible people. When they first created Eco, they only used her as a babysitter, you know? But then they started relying on her more and more, and they spent less and less time with us. One day, they left on one of their trips, and they never came back. Me and Pete were 6 and 8 then, I think.”

  Maybe Abby’s only trying to win my sympathy by telling me a story I can relate to.

  But I:

  1. Give in to the heartbreak in my broken chest.

  2. Say, “I’m sorry.”

  And Abby:

  1. Weeps, soft.

  2. Says, “I’m so pathetic. They abandoned us, and I’d still do anything to get them back.”

  “That’s natural,” I say. “I wish my mom would come home all the time.”

  “But it’s different for you, Nick. You don’t have any evidence that your mom hated you. Yeah, she disappeared and everything. But you don’t know why. For all you know, she never wanted to go away.”

  “That didn’t stop me from feeling abandoned, Abby.”

  “I’m not trying to minimalize your suffering or anything. I’m just saying I know my parents despise me. I know, because the night before they left us, I had this nightmare where the floor opened up and swallowed them. And when I woke up, I got out of bed, and I realized Eco wasn’t active, because she didn’t punish me, you know? So I went out to my parents’ bedroom. Their door was locked, like always, so I just listened to them. They spent a while imprinting Eco with new commands, and then they said they’d go to a place where me and Pete could never find them. They didn’t use our names though. Usually they called us Flotsam and Jetsam. It was like a joke to them. After that, Eco showed up and forced me back into bed. The next day, I convinced myself that everything I remembered from that night was just a bad dream. And I held on to that lie for a long time. It was only a couple years ago that I really accepted the truth. And now I know for sure they don’t love me. But I don’t know how to stop loving them. So I really am pathetic.”

  And I can’t think of anything else to say but, “I’m sorry.”

  Abby cries again.

  Then I

  1. Do think of something else to say.

  2. Say, “You’re not pathetic. You’re jus
t a human being in a messed up world. I mean, if you are human. Are you human?”

  “I think so,” Abby says.

  I:

  1. Consider holding her hand.

  2. Wonder if Eco would allow that.

  3. Don’t move.

  4. Think about Abby’s story.

  5. Feel uncomfortable about how much I understand her.

  And suddenly, the chaos of the last 31 days makes a strange sort of sense to me.

  Abby didn’t just want Cicely and me to suffer.

  She wanted to:

  1. Suffer with us.

  2. Bond through a common torment, the way she probably did with Pete. Or the way I did with Karl, years ago. So she cursed us. I’m not sure how Abby knew Cicely and me would tell each other about our problems, but maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she only hoped. And after Cicely posted those flyers around town, Abby made contact and joined our group. Maybe Abby expected Cicely to reach out to other cursed individuals, or maybe she just jumped on the opportunity to respond to the flyer, because this approach was less suspicious than her original infiltration plan. Of course, Abby could tell me which of these scenarios is true, but I don’t care enough to ask.

  3. Isolate us from the rest of the world. So she made those nasty calls to our families and friends, using our voices.

  4. Keep us from discovering the truth. So she kidnapped me, and Pete pretended to be the perpetrator, and he threatened to erase Cicely from existence if we tried to find him. I’m sure Abby thought we’d find her out if we kept searching and investigating long enough. Maybe we would’ve.

  5. Fulfill her longing for physical attention, however possible. So she took us to the cabin and supplied a list of twisted tasks we were supposed to perform in order to escape.

  In other words, Abby and me are kindred spirits.

  And I know the worst part isn’t that she feels:

  1. Naked.

  2. Empty.

  3. Alone.

  The real curse is that she believes:

  1. This void inside her is all she deserves.

  2. Without manipulation and coercion, no one would ever choose to get close to her.

  And I feel sorry for:

  1. Abby.

  But also:

  2. Myself.

  “Are you asleep?” Abby says.

  “Just thinking,” I say. “And I think I understand what you were after by using us. But why did you target Cicely and me when you already have people in your life? Why didn’t you curse them?”

  “You mean Pete?”

  “Pete and Kin.”

  “I wanted to spend some time with nice people, so that ruled Pete out. He used to be my best friend, but he’s been pretty mean to me ever since he died.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he wasn’t alive.”

  “Yeah, we do a good job at making him look solid.” Abby sighs. “I’m so stupid. I thought if he looked alive and acted alive, he might start feeling like his old self again, you know? I thought if we worked together on a project, we might get back some of what we lost. But things’ve only gotten worse. He spends most of his time in our parents’ room, watching TV, and he barely talks to me. When he does, he just tells me what to do or says what I’m doing wrong. I know I should spend more time trying to help him, but most of the time I can’t stand looking at him. I’m a horrible sister.”