Page 14 of Survivor
“Your dad and I love you so much, Taylor, never forget that, no matter what happens.” She scooted back away from the door, glancing at him once more before closing it.
Taylor could hear distinct noises immediately. The sound of something being dragged across the floor, a sweeping sound; was there a broom in the attic? Straining, he could hear his mom walking back to the other side of the attic, the stairs creaking as she went back down them. Murmurs, words he couldn’t hear clearly, and then the soft thump of the attic door closing.
Taylor read the book twice, careful not to say the words out loud using the voices his dad did when they read the story together before bed. Eventually he fell asleep, jolting upright when he heard the dragging sound again. Expecting to see his mom or dad when the door opened, Taylor gasped and scooted as far back against the wall as he could get when he saw the face of a stranger.
“Hey there.…it’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” the stranger told him.
Taylor shook his head furiously, turning sideways and drawing his knees up to his chest so that he was just out of the man’s reach. The fear was sudden and surreal and Taylor’s entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. “Okay, okay, I’ll just sit here and wait until you’re ready to come out.” The man moved back a few inches and sat down, crossing his legs and waiting.
The man’s actions calmed Taylor a little, but now in addition to being scared he was confused; where were his parents? He remembered what his mom had told him just before she closed the door.“Don’t make a sound, and don’t come out until I come get you.”And so he didn’t. He remained still and silent, expecting his mom to walk up behind the man at any moment.
Taylor didn’t know how long they sat and stared at each other, neither of them moving or making a sound. Once, he looked off to the left and nodded his head, but then his eyes were back on Taylor again. There was a noise…it sounded like a radio and Taylor watched the man reach up and touch a speaker or something that was attached to his shoulder. Leaning away from the wall to get a better look, Taylor recognized the dark blue uniform and silver badge.
“Are you a policeman?” Taylor asked; his voice barely above a whisper.
Smiling, he nodded. “Yes, I am”
“Where’s Mom?” The policeman’s smile morphed into a dark sneer and all the skin on his face disappeared until he looked like a skeleton.
“She’s dead, Taylor. She’s dead and she’s never coming back for you!”
~ ~ ~
Taylor sat straight up in bed, heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, wondering who the hell was screaming. Oh, wait, that was him. His skin was drenched with sweat, limbs tangled in the damp sheets, heart beating damn near out of his chest. No matter how many therapists he saw or how many drugs he took, nothing had been able to make the nightmare go away. It was branded in his memory, reminding him that he wasn’t okay, that he’d never truly be okay. Not until his parents’ murder was solved and justice was served—maybe not even then.
Tossing the sheet back, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, toes digging into the carpet as he stood and walked toward the bathroom on shaking legs. His small apartment off campus was costly but necessary. The last thing Taylor wanted was a roommate, much less a dorm full of them. His bestie Brad was the only person outside of his family that knew about the nightmares. So on the rare occasion he stayed over, he brought earplugs.
Flipping on the bathroom light he squinted, leaning on the counter and staring at his reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, a thick layer of sweat covering his skin, and his hair was drenched, matted to his forehead. Turning on the faucet, he cupped his hands to fill them with water and splashed some on his face, running fingers through the thick, unruly brown locks with the rest so it no longer stuck to his skin.
“Jesus Taylor, get a fucking grip,” he growled. Opening the medicine cabinet, he snatched the bottle of Temazepam off the shelf, twisting the cap off angrily. He absolutely hated taking medicines of any kind because of the side effects. But with a major test in a just a few short hours, he decided that sluggish and lethargic were a far better alternative to flat-out sleeping through class. Shaking one blue and white capsule into his palm, he closed the bottle and placed it back in the cabinet before popping the pill into his mouth, filling his hand with water from the tap to wash it down.
Too tired to deal with anything else, he jerked the damp sheets off the bed and tossed them into the hamper before falling onto the bare mattress with just the quilt. He’d deal with making the bed the next day.…Maybe. Instead of playing the nightmare out in his mind on a repeat loop, Taylor concentrated on the blue eyes that grounded him, made him feel safe the night he lost everything.
He was eighteen years old when he’d first realized that his feelings for Frank were changing, admiration and gratitude morphing into an attraction, lust leading to love. Smiling to himself, Taylor snuggled into his pillow, the pill already making him feel loopy and sedated. Graduation was just a few weeks away and then he’d be back home in Dallas with his family, and most importantly, with Frank.
