Page 245 of Phobia
But movement and rustling catches my attention.
I pull him closer, nodding behind him. “Gator,” I warn in an almost bored tone, because it’s nothing new for me.
ButJules… I’ve never seen a person jump so high.
“Fuck!” He barks, watching the creature over his shoulder while we keep walking. A laugh rumbles out of me as he practically drags me, trying to run away with me in tow. “Jesus! Aren’t you scared?? What if he eats us?? OhGod, I don’t wanna die out here…”
The amused chortles are just flowing out of me now. I can’t stop them. “I hate to break it to you, but there are a lot of them out here. They won’t attack you unless you get to close… Like you’re bating them or something.”
“That’s not really a chance I want to take,” he grumbles, flinching in every direction at every noice.
“It’s just nature.” I shrug. “We’re all animals…”
“So you’re not afraid of things that could hurt you… as long as you’re awake to stop them?” He asks, and I have to appreciate that he’s not being snarky, or talking down to me like I’m crazy.
He’s sincerely trying to understand my phobia better.
A long breath gusts from my lips. “Yea. I guess that’s what it comes down to…”
“Asa… You can’t control what happens in life,” he says softly while we walk through the murky forest. “You never can, even if you’re awake. Bad things can always happen… It’s just something we have to accept. Tolive.”
I stay quiet for more steps, considering his words. I know on some level he’s right.
But the thing about a phobia is that it’s irrational. Logic and reasoning won’t bury it.
Unfortunately, I don’t think anything can.
The sun is peeking through the trees, casting twinkles of gold across the plane of deep green. I like it out here. It’s quiet. In theory, it’s supposed to look awful, and maybe sometimes it does. But it has its moments.
We skirt around the water, getting closer. Another rustle draws our attention to a goose, a few yards away. It’s staring at us.
“Here, goosey goosey,” Jules says with a chuckle.
“Those things are even more dangerous than the gators,” I murmur, and he huffs.
“Yea, right.”
But it’s definitely watching us closely. I hold up my left hand. “Stay back, Bob.”
“Bob?” Jules laughs. “Bobthe goose?”
“That’s right,” I reply, seriously, and he cackles.
Up ahead, there’s a clearing. My pulse is already rocking steady, but as we grow closer, it’s thumping in my neck almost aggressively.
I don’t know ifthe housewill yield any answers… Historically, the people in it aren’t exactly helpful, productive members of society. But it’s my last shot…
The only remaining unturned stone to finding my sister.
“Holy shit,” Jules gasps as we wander through the trees, into the dirt and gravel surrounding the shoddy place. “What in the hell is this??”
“Most people in Theriot just call itThe House,” I explain, squeezing his hand tighter to keep him close. “Some call itThe Riot. It’s been here for years, just beyond the bayou and the park.”
Jules’s eyes are wide as he takes in the scenery. The small house, surrounded by… I guess there’s no other way to say it…Garbage.
But not justanygarbage. It’s like if every flea market and swap meet in Louisiana exploded, all their kitschy shit landing around the perimeter of this house to form some kind of trash forcefield. The entire area is littered with colorful crap, creepy statues of animals made out of barbed wire, birdcages containing skeletons of dead parrots wearing costumes, cans and bottles in the shape of palm trees. And bones…Lotsof bones.
Not to mention an abundance ofNo Trespassingsigns, bear traps, cages with spikes… Pretty much anything to let it be known,Enter at your own will.
