Page 13 of Survivor
Chapter Eight
Taylor
Spring 2015
Bright lights, loud music, and half-naked, sweaty men promising any number of naughty things in the back room were lost on Taylor at the moment. Bradley plopped down onto the bar stool beside him, ordering another round of shots. If the promise of meaningless, but possibly fulfilling, sex in the bathroom of a bar wasn’t keeping Taylor’s interest, what made his best friend think alcohol would?
“No man, I’m good. I think I’m just gonna head home. See you tomorrow.” Taylor stood and pulled his wallet out, dropping a couple of bills on the bar and nodding at the bartender who was giving him what could only be described as a “come fuck me” stare, but still. Not interested.
“You sure?” Bradley’s words were a bit slurred.
Their friend Kian made his way over, waving Taylor toward the exit while mouthing,I got thisand gently maneuvering Bradley off his stool.
“Thank fuck,” Taylor muttered as he left. He was exhausted and cranky, but that was the norm during finals. Thinking about what day it was, how close it was to the ten-year anniversary of his parents’ still-unsolved murder, well, it didn’t make him feel any better. It made him feel worse, in fact. No, not worse, more like angrier. Why couldn’t they catch the person or persons that killed his mother and father?
Slamming his front door and locking it, Taylor kicked his shoes off and headed toward his room. He quickly stripped, tossing everything into the hamper before going into the bathroom and starting the shower. There was something about the water that always soothed him. It was like the spray from the showerhead washed over him, lessening some of the pain and anger he felt. Leaning against the cold tiles, he let all the tension melt away, climbing out once the water ran cold.
He wrapped the towel around his waist once he’d dried off, then brushed his teeth. His bottle of sleeping pills screamed at him,Take me! Take me!when he opened the medicine cabinet, but he didn’t want to be groggy during his exam the next day. Instead, he turned off all the lights and crawled into bed, right into the waiting arms of a familiar nightmare.
~ ~ ~
“Wake up, Taylor,” his mom whispered, her warm smile greeting him when he opened his eyes. “There you are, sleepyhead. Come on, we’re going to play a game.”
Her words were like cold water, waking him in an instant. Excited, Taylor jumped out of bed and followed her out into the hallway, his warm bed all but forgotten. He didn’t notice the sheen of sweat dotting her brow or the fear in her eyes as she briskly headed toward the stairs at the end of the hall. She reached for the pull cord that would lower the stairs that lead up to their attic.
“Why are we going up there?” Taylor asked, yawning.
“We’re going to play hide and seek,” she responded.
Taylor groaned. “That’s a game for little kids, Mom. I’m thirteen now and thirteen-year-olds don’t play hide and seek.”
His mom knelt beside him, taking both his hands in hers, squeezing them tight. “How about hide-and-seek tonight, and then the next time, you get to choose the game?”
Rolling his eyes, Taylor agreed.
As soon as they were in the attic, Taylor dropped her hand, intent on finding the perfect place to hide. She reached for him before he could take a step, taking Taylor’s hand in a tight grasp, pulling him toward the far side of the attic. He was confused. “I thought we were playing hide and seek?”
“We are.” She continued to pull him along behind her, sticking close to the wall.
“But Mom, it’s not hide-and-seek if you know where I’m hiding,” he whined.
“Taylor, honey, I need you to trust me right now and do what I ask, okay?” Taylor huffed, but before he could answer, his mom stopped abruptly, squatting beside the attic window, pulling Taylor down beside her. Looking up, he saw a flash of light and thought he could hear a car driving past the house.
“Shit!” his mom swore.
“You gotta put a dollar in the swear jar, Mom.”
She grabbed him then, pulling Taylor into a tight hug before releasing him and kissing him gently on the forehead. “Okay, Son, I’ll put a dollar in the jar tomorrow, promise.” Her voice sounded off to him, wobbly like she was trying not to cry. But her eyes filled with tears, one escaping and trailing down her cheek.
He reached up with his small hand and wiped the tear away. “Don’t be sad, Mom, it’s okay, you don’t gotta put a dollar in the jar. I won’t tell Dad.”
She sucked in a deep breath, biting down on her bottom lip. The light that had been shining into the window was gone then, shadowing them in darkness once again, and he could only make out the shape of her face. Ducking past the window, his mom scrabbled to the corner on her hands and knees, beckoning Taylor to follow with a wave of her hand. There was a tiny crawl space wedged between the outer wall of their house and the chimney from the fireplace that was just barely big enough for Taylor to fit into. Pulling the door open, she told him to climb in, but he hesitated. It was so dark that he couldn’t see and it frightened him.
“Here you go.” There was a soft click and the crawl space was illuminated by his flashlight. Smiling wide, he took the flashlight andcrawledin, turning and sitting down, knees up to his chest because there wasn’t enough room to stretch them out. His mom handed Taylor a bottle of water and his favorite book,“Where the Wild Things Are.”
“Now listen, son, this is very important.” She waited for Taylor to nod his head. “Don’t make a sound, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Frowning, he nodded again.
“But…” She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, leaning into the crawl space and kissing his other cheek.
