And the Trees Crept In(30)
“I…” In the garden. They are in the garden. “I can’t.”
“For God’s sake, Silla,” he snaps, stuffing the last scraps of food in with the apples. “You have got to get out of here. This place is going to kill you!” He is almost hysterical. “Get Nori and we’re going.”
His panic calms me. It distills all around me like a warm cloak, and I feel my old anger returning. “No.”
He freezes, turns to me, and his voice is barely controlled. “What are you talking about?”
“I am not leaving this house, Gowan. I told you that before. I’m not going into those woods—and they’re the only way out. We’re going to… we’re just going to wait.”
He puts the basket onto the counter very slowly; his hands are shaking from—what? Rage? Panic? Adrenaline?
“What do you think you’re waiting for, exactly?”
Now it’s my turn to walk away, but he grabs my elbow.
“What are you waiting for?” he yells.
“I don’t know, I don’t know!”
“You’re lying—tell me the truth!”
I pull myself free. “Don’t touch me!”
He turns and, with a speed I’ve never seen in him, he punches the wall. His fist goes right through the plaster, an explosion of white and gray, leaving a massive, dusty hole, and revealing the stone behind it. He yells at nothing, then puts his plaster-covered palms on either side of the destruction and tries to control his breathing.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” he asks, but he’s not really asking me.
What am I waiting for? Waiting a bit longer to live? Waiting a bit longer to see what happens. Waiting to keep Nori safe, just a bit longer. Waiting to avoid a repeat of what I saw in the woods that day… what I felt.
Waiting to avoid his promise.
YOU WILL DIE AND
SHE’LL BE MINE
Gowan leaves me there in the kitchen and I follow him into the entrance hall. He stumbles over the hole there, and turns back to look at it with horror.
The hole is small, but definitely bigger than it was yesterday. And he knows it.
“When did this appear?”
I shrug. “A while ago. It’s gotten bigger.” [DADDY’S VOICE COMES OUT OF THERE.] “It’s weird. I couldn’t see anything down there. I mean—nothing at all. The flashlight just found more darkness. I checked the basement, but the entrance hall isn’t above it. This is just—a hole.”
[A SINKHOLE, WAITING TO GET US ALL.]
“I’ll fix it,” Gowan tells me. “I don’t want this here. Do you have any unwanted wood? Crates?”
I shake my head; I can’t look away from the place my father’s voice comes from.
“Never mind. I’ll cut back the trees. Use that wood. I saw an ax by the kitchen door.”
He has my full attention now. “The trees? You’re going to use the trees?”
“We have to get out of here, Silla. You have to see that. You can’t ignore it.”
“Yes, but—”
“So I’ll cut us out. The trees are in the garden, and I can’t explain it, but we have to cut through them to get out—”
“This place is weird. You sense it, right?”
“—so I’m going to take that ax—”
“It’s haunted or something.…”
“—and I’m going to cut those damn trees, and I’m going to fix this hole.” His eyes bore into mine. “And then you’re coming with me.”
As he leaves, I wonder why he’s taking the time to fix the hole at all.
Tried to eat the apple.
Can’t keep it down.
Think I have anorexia
or maybe a stomach bug.
Food feels disgusting.
Can’t imagine putting it
inside my body.
Thought makes me squirm.
Another cavity
even though I knocked
out the other tooth.
What is wrong with me?
I think I’m getting sick.
But I can’t help feeling
that it’s La Baume
doing this to me.
It is another gray day, too still. Darker than yesterday, which was darker than the day before. It’s barely noon, and already the day is at half-light. Maybe less. It feels like five in the afternoon, or six.
I slump over a cup of cold water and glance up at Gowan, sitting next to me. “What are you thinking?”
He looks at me pointedly. “I don’t think you’ll believe me.”
I know it’s probably true, but I want to hear it anyway. “Spill.”
“Because I love you.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you. I asked for the truth. Don’t lie to me, Gowan.”
“It wasn’t a lie.” He takes my hand. “I love you, Silla Daniels. Please believe me. I love you.”
“But how could you? You barely know me. And I’m…” [A BLOODY MESS.]
“I do, I know you. Maybe it’s just instinctive. Like a scent that you smell, fresh like apples, and can’t ignore. Maybe when you know, you just do. Maybe we knew each other in a past life. But I don’t just feel this, Silla. I know this. It just… is.”