Page 39 of The Road to Ruined

"Well, someone did," she says. "We have a dinner to get to, but please, Teagan. Get out of bed. Take a shower, go for a walk, or spend some time in the sun."

She opens the curtains and flips on the light, leaving the door open when she leaves the room.

"Fuck," I mutter.

And since I have to get out of bed to remedy that, I decide I might as well take a shower.

Afterward, I walk downstairs, make a cup of coffee, and force down a bagel with cream cheese. When I pass through the room again, they catch my eye—two dozen red tulips in a vase by the front door. That hole in my chest aches.

I set the cup down, pick a flower from the vase, and then close my eyes and run the soft petals over my lips.

I like you, Teagan. Let me be nice to you.

Why would he do this? Does he think this is fucking funny?

I take the entire thing out to the garage, toss it in the garbage, and then crawl back into bed. I don't know how long it is before I feel someone sink into the space beside me.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

"You wouldn't understand," I answer, keeping my back to him. "You're not really a person."

"Neither are you."

"That's not true. I feel things; I need things."

I feel his weight shifting on the bed before he lies down, pressing his body against my back. He wraps one arm around my front and rests the other under my head. Gloved fingers brush gently over my cheek before running through my hair. I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lower lip to keep from crying.

"Is this what you think you need, Teagan?"

All I can manage is a nod. I stay like that for a few minutes before turning over and curling up into his chest. I wrap my arms around him, holding him tightly while his fingers run down my back.

"Almost," I whisper. "Close enough."

"You're a pretty girl, Teagan," he says. "But you make a better monster."

"I don't want to be a monster."

"We don't always get what we want," Bone Saw says. "But I got you something; I think you'll like it."

"I saw," I tell him. "I didn't like it."

"You haven't seen this yet."

He turns over, grabs a black box from the other side of the bed, and sets it between us. I hesitate before opening the lid, and when I do, there's a gold mask sitting on top of black clothes and shoes inside.

"There's a full moon tonight, Teagan. Do you want to play monsters?"

We're flying down a highway in the middle of nowhere, somewhere deep in San Bernardino County—the part of California where people don't really go except to get lost and where, at night like this, you can't tell which direction you're headed. There are no lights. There are no towns.

Or maybe we're in Nevada now. Who can tell?

"I don't understand why I need to do this," I say, struggling against the binding over my chest. "It hurts."

"It's better if people think there's a young boy under there than a woman. That's something they're used to seeing," he says. "It's safer for you—probably for them, too."

"It's restricting my breathing. I'm not sure that's safe."

"Put your mask on," he says.

---