Page 53 of Night So Silent
I’m still trying to make sense of the scene when I catch movement on the hill and another dark figure, this one much taller, comes striding through the trees. But I would recognize him anywhere.
It’s Sergei. And he’s carrying a bow in one hand.
He reaches up and pushes his black hood off his head, revealing the familiar silhouette of his sleek bun at his crown. He pulls down something that’s covering his nose and mouth and comes to a halt at Caleb’s body by the shed. I can’t hear anything, but I can see Caleb’s face, illuminated by the lamp next to the door. He looks up at Sergei, eyes wild, and then his mouth twists like he’s saying something. But Sergei’s only response is to seize Caleb by the front of his jacket and lift him off the ground.
Just like a suitcase.
Suspended in mid-air, Sergei effortlessly carries him across the lawn, to the front of the house, and tosses him across the snow. Sounds are muted from behind the window, but Caleb gives a muffled shout as he tumbles across the ground, coming to rest in a heap of twisted limbs, skewered by a rod of black carbon. It’s only then that I finally see the full extent of his wounds in contrast against the powdery snow, and it looks like the arrow’s gone clear through his thigh.
Sergei steps over Caleb’s body and straddles his torso. Amid the wails of fury and agony, Sergei thrusts his hand out and grabs Caleb by the jaw. I don’t know for sure, but he must saysomething before shoving his face away and rising again. Then I wait for Sergei to turn around and come inside, I assume to call the police. I guess I could be doing that right now, but I’m still shaking and trying to catch my breath.
But Sergei doesn’t come back inside.
Still holding the bow in one hand, Sergei dips down and grabs the end of the arrow and jerks it out of Caleb’s leg. There’s a guttural howl as he opens the wound, the snow beneath Caleb quickly turning dark, inky, and black as oil. Sergei switches hands, reuniting the arrow with its bow, then bends down and seizes Caleb’s jacket again. He lifts him off the ground, blood pouring from his leg and onto the slow like black roots trailing behind.
I can almost see the wall of back muscles flex through Sergei’s jacket as he thrusts his arm out and hurls Caleb over the boulders. My jaw drops as his body disappears over the edge of the mountain into the gully below. And then there’s silence, except for the sound of my own breathing as I watch through the window. I’m shocked. But am I horrified?
I don’t think so.
I’m overwhelmed, overwrought, and still terrified. But I don’t pity Caleb, the vile ghoul that transformed from an attractive and seemingly benevolent man into a nightmare. I don’t feel sorrow that I just witnessed his toxic, mangled body being tossed off a mountainside.
Instead, I’m filled with anger and rage, a cauldron of pure loathing bubbling with the transgressions of every faceless abuser whose name was uttered in my office by a woman just trying to escape. And now Caleb represents the happily ever after they should all have; hunted down, broken, bloodied, and tossed into a dirty heap like garbage.
Because that’s what they all are.
Eventually, Sergei turns and stalks toward the shed with the same stride as someone who’s just completed a burdensome task. In the meantime, I wonder if I should do something. Holding my phone in my shaking hand, I don’t get a chance to debate further. The voicemail icon catches my eye at the top of the screen. I check the number and it’s from my friend, Katie, back home.
I thought she was out of town for Christmas. When did she call me? As if I would know, my phone is always on vibrate. And it looks like she called a few more times after that. If only to stall, I put the phone to my ear to listen to the message.
“Barrett! Answer your phone! Are you OK? Where are you? Are you back from visiting Brett? You will not believe what’s happening here.”
Something bigmustbe happening, from the way she’s bouncing from question to question. But my heart goes to my throat when she slows down for a moment and I find out why.
“When’s the last time you saw or spoke to Caleb? Because his face was on the news today. He got kicked out of some bar a few days ago and then decided to drive to his ex-girlfriend’s house, break in while she was out, hide in the closet until she and her boyfriend came home, and then tried to attack them after they went to bed! She already had a restraining order against him, so she pulled a gun and he ran off. They’re still looking for him, so it’s probably good that you’re still on vacay.”
I could probably break a mirror with the magnificent stink face I’m giving as my eyes shift to the window and the carnage that lies outside.
“Anyway, be careful and text me as soon as you get this! And tell Brett and Colson and the baby hiii! Love you!”
My hand drops, my arm going limp at my side as I let out a sigh. But I don’t have a chance to dwell on the news before there’s a sharp pound at the door, giving me a start.
“Barrett.”
I recognize the deep voice, but I can’t bring myself to move yet. Staring at the door, I try to convince myself it’s really Sergei after the last 10 minutes of impromptu terror and that I’m not being tricked by scary stories, hallucinations, or foggy images. For someone who doesn’t bat an eye when a client tells me the most harrowing of stories, I’m a veritable mess right now.
He knocks again. “Barrett.”
My hesitation immediately turns to urgency as I rush to the deadbolt and throw open the door. And as soon as I see him and his glacial blue eyes that somehow still shine in the darkness, I lose it. When I reach out, he sweeps me up in his arms the size of the pines right outside and steps over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him. Tears fall, much like they do any other time I’m overwhelmed with emotion, but this time is much quieter than the rest. My chest heaves with each deep breath, my arms wrapped so tightly around Sergei’s neck that they begin to tremble.
Holding me tight against his chest, Sergei ambles across the living room and collapses onto the sofa. He doesn’t speak, he just sits, holding me while rubbing my back and trailing kisses along my shoulder and neck. I don’t want to leave this moment, I don’t want to leave his embrace, a quiet place in the midst of chaos. I don’t want to leave the reassuring cadence of his heartbeat and the steady wave of each breath he takes.
But, soon, he takes me by the arms and gently pulls me away. His hands move over my shoulders and up my neck, gently moving my head from side to side as he examines me. And I let him, basking in his touch with the roughness of his callouses andthe way his massive arms move around me as he gently wipes the tears from under my eyes.
“Itwasa monster,” I finally exhale.
“Yes,” Sergei replies. “But it’s gone now.”
That’s a fucking understatement.
