NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY |

53: infest

            I grab the ice cream container from the passenger seat, now filled with Shayna's red pea stew, before I climb out of the car. She also packed me a reused bakery bag of her vegan patties for Cece to taste if they want.

I don't have to wonder if he's home; Esther's snout pokes through the door the moment the gap is wide enough for it to fit.

I try to pet her but she ducks from my hand. She whinges as I step inside, winding around my legs so that I nearly trip when I wedge off my trainers. I leave the food on the hat shelf so she can't reach it while I slide my jacket off but Esther won't stop headbutting me, whining non-stop.

Why is she even awake at three in the morning? Maybe she needs to go outside?

But the moment I take a step toward her lead, she sprints into the house. My good mood wilts.

My first thought is that someone has broken in but, though the floor lamp in the corridor has been dragged out of place, I don't know of any robbers who would spend their time doing this. The skirting boards have been pried off the walls, nails jutting out, several of them splintered. As I force myself deeper into the house, stains emerge from the shadows: crimson fingerprints. Then it emerges, a scuttling—like rats. And the fracture of wood.

Esther is at me again, an incessant growl revving in her throat. She jumps against me, jerks around on the carpet, and I finally understand. I let her lead to the living room.

My insides shrivel at the sight waiting for me: Cece, on his knees, levering another skirting board off the wall with a butter knife. His fingers are bloody, cuticles torn, though they don't seem to notice.

They don't notice me either, not even when I trawl their name out of my stomach.

I step closer and Esther lunges, snapping her jaws. Her bark whips Cece's focus onto me too. His black eyes surrounded by black makeup glint in the dark. There's no recognition in them.

'Cece–'

I've barely lifted my foot before Esther is barking again.

'Alright!' I throw my hands up. Lowering myself onto the carpet as close as Esther allows me, I bow my head, trying to communicate my compliance with her rules. 'Alright.'

Butter knife still wedged behind the next section of baseboard, Cece watches the exchange like they don't quite realise we're all in the same room. I don't think I'll ever get used to it, the way he can look at me like we've never met.

Still, I'd much be a stranger than a threat.

Then Esther barks again. Cece jolts. They squirm, spine like a snake, shoulders rolling and neck twisting in ways it shouldn't; it's not the involuntary shivers they get sometimes but conscious writhing like they're tryna shake summat off their back. Their attention snaps to the wall, then the baseboard and they lever it off, digging their fingers into the gap as soon as it's wide enough to rip the rest of the nails out.

I whisper syllables until I've got rid of the strum of panic and censure in my voice and can speak casually, 'What are you doing?'

The board splits. Cece tumbles onto their back from the unexpected loss of resistance but is upright before the pain of impact can set in. Does he feel pain right now?

They toss the stake aside, feeling the exposed sliver of wall, searching for a secret hatch not visible to human eyes. When he don't find what he's looking for, they claw at the half of the skirting board still nailed in place.

Esther has returned to growling. It's an odd sound, maybe better described as howling, moans and whines funnelling through bared teeth. I'd like to howl too when Cece cuts another finger on the jagged edge of wood.