Page 22 of Cole

“No promises,”Daniel sneered.“I might have to get myself a taste if you take too long to give me what I really want.”The whimpering grew sharper,panicked.“It’s been a long time since I feasted on virgin flesh, and she smells so delicious.”

“Don’t…” Cole begged.

“Then stop fucking around and give me what I fucking want.”

Cole sank back down on the bench as his strength left him. “He’ll do it,” Cole whispered, defeated. “Tell us when… and where.”

“That’s my boy,”Daniel whispered darkly, specifying a time and location.“And in case you’re planning a nefarious play with your bad boy pals, remember who I am.”There was a threatening pause.“What… I am.”

Cole hung his head, a disturbing chill quivering through him; he remembered.

Henry sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a bowl of soggy Corn Flakes that remained untouched, his hands resting idly in his lap. He lost count of how many times he had vomited over the past few days, haunted by gruesome images of butchering the bunny. Since then, Henry struggled to eat or get much sleep. Whenever he attempted to rest, nightmares invaded his dreams—not only those about the bunny. In one particularly terrifying and vivid dream, it was Ezra beneath the blade. Henry woke up screaming, soaked in cold sweat.

He was too afraid to sleep after that.

This morning, he felt queasy and lightheaded due to a lack of sleep and food, yet the idea of eating made his stomach churn. Stress held a tight grip on him as he awaited his next “lesson.” It had been days since the bunny incident, and his dad’s behavior warned him that more horrors were coming soon.

Just wait… the real fun is about to begin.

The fear those words invoked was greater than anything Henry had ever experienced. Where he had once felt uncomfortable with his dad, he now feared the man with all his being.

Henry froze when he heard a rig rumbling up the long, winding drive. He recognized the sound of his dad’s Bronco. His hands balled into fists and pressed against his thighs as his stomach pinched and twisted. Lowering his head, Henry closed his eyes tightly, wishing he were anywhere else.

Please… I don’t want to be me anymore… I don’t want to be here… I don’t—

A soft knock on the front door dispelled the fog of fear enveloping his mind. Why would his dad knock? The front door opened.

“Sheriff? You home?” Deputy Roland.

Some of Henry’s tension eased. He left the chair and stepped into the hallway. “He’s not here,” he told the deputy quietly, his eyes focused on the floor.

“Oh, okay.” The Deputy lingered in the doorway. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Henry shook his head. “He left last night,” he mumbled. “I-I don’t know where he went.”

“You’ve been here all night alone?”

“Yeah.” Henry shrugged, his big toe brushing against the cold wooden floor. “It’s okay. I wasn’t scared.”

“Of course not,” the deputy smiled. “I wasn’t suggesting you were. I mean, you’re almost a man.”

His dad had told him the same thing, but Henry didn’t feel like a man. Not feeling scared was a lie. However, it wasn’t being alone that frightened him—it was the thought of his dad coming home.

“Hey,” Deputy Roland murmured. “Are you okay?”

Henry nodded, keeping his gaze down.

Roland entered the house. "You don’t seem okay. Is everything good between you and your dad?”

I think he went crazy.

The words settled on his tongue, but Henry didn’t say them out loud. The deputy wouldn’t believe him; he was an adult. Adults never believed kids.

“Yeah,” Henry lied.

Deputy Roland appeared skeptical. “I know your dad can be rough on you, but he means well. I think he’s just trying to adjust to being a single parent. Without your mom, he’s probably feeling a little lost.”

I don’t think that’s it, Henry thought sickly. Did grief make people go insane? Did it turn them into monsters?

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