The girls all warily followed Rebecca’s line of sight, “No,” Oleander said, voice hoarse with fear.
“Let’s leave him alone until the weekend. It isn’t very safe.”
“We can’t get anything done if we don’t know what he is.” Rebecca argued.
“Let’s just do it again without the blood.” Valerie offered as a compromise.
“Will it work without the blood?” Trina asked.
The friends all stared at one another, “Fine.” Oleander conceded unhappily, she moved to her stereo choosing another dark playlist, this time she played a bass heavy song about a girl named Amelia who goes missing, only for her body to wash up on shore sometime later. She shimmied lightly to the music walking on her toe tips out of the door calling out an “if we are going to do this, we might as well do it properly.” as she left to gather supplies again.
She returned with her arms full with a bundle, “Watch out for the pan of lasagna.” She muttered when Rebecca began to lean back on her bed. Once again the girls formed their circle with salt and candles, they said the same incantation as before and they prepared to draw blood. Trent could not stand the idea of witnessing Oleander mutilate and defile her body, especially not because of the idiotic idea that it would lead him to converse with them again. The razor gliding against her skin made him grit his teeth last time, it was too similar to the his actions when he was her age. He knew that this time he had to stop them, so he walked around the circle blowing out each candle one by one. Oleander intensely flinched and Rebecca sharply gasped. Trina began to shake and Valerie rolled her eyes towards the ceiling in an effort to stop the frightened tears from streaming down her cheeks. Trent dragged his foot through the salt, a show of breaking the circle he was not trying to scare the girls but accidentally invoking fear in Oleander seemed to be an inconvenient strong suit of his. He kicked the razor that his love had dropped away from her.
“If he can break the circle what is he?” Trina whispered.
They were all overwhelmed with the desire to run away, but were frozen to the seats with fear and pride, none wanting to be the first to leave. Trent grabbed the planchette and began to spell out a message.
“G”
“O’
“O’
“D”
“Good?” Rebecca scoffed voice heavy with disbelief.
He moved the triangular planchette to “Yes.”
“Then why do you live under my bed and act like a goddamn monster?” Oleander asked angrily,
“I”
“D”
“O”
“N”
“T”
‘You certainly look like a monster.” Oleander replied.
“D”
“O”
“I” Trent responded, using all of his strength to reveal himself to the girls, in the form he had when he was alive.
YOU ARE READING
The Patron Saint of Monsters
Teen FictionA girl falls in love with the monster under her bed.
