For Shits and Giggles [2024]

Chapter 08

Fior was in her bed, sheets up to her neck. She was trembling, which wasn't necessarily unusual for her. Relief washed over her face when she saw it was Gracie walking into the bedroom, not her husband.

"That's it, I'm done. I... Gracie, I don't want to do it anymore," she sat up in her bed, tears streaking her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she looked hollow, as if she hadn't eaten or slept for days. Gracie sat on the bed beside her, she was shaking more than usual.

"What do you mean, Fior? What's the matter?"

What a stupid question, Gracie thought to herself.

"Besides the fact that you died, I mean," she added awkwardly. Fior glared at her.

"No, Gracie. I didn't just die, my husband killed me.

"He choked me and beat me and stabbed me over and over and over," Fior said hysterically, picking at her hair. She twirled strands around her finger and thumb and ripped them from her scalp. Gracie had never seen her quite like this.

"I felt it every single time... and I feel it all the time. I mean, I can't even think, I can't sleep, I can't breathe or eat or do anything without being scared! And it's because... because of him," she sobbed. "Because of my husband."

Fior stood up, going to her window for some air. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

Gracie tried to bite her tongue, but it moved on its own.

"Please don't cry, Fior, let's try and look on the positive side..."

"The positive side? Not all of us have two boyfriends jumping in to save us all the time. I bet it's easy staying positive when all you have to worry about is who you're fucking next."

This time, Gracie's tongue didn't say anything. When she didn't respond, Fior crumbled to the floor, sliding down with her back against the wall. She shoved her face into her hands and doubled over.

"Oh God... I didn't mean that," she sobbed. "I'm sorry Gracie, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry," her words were hard to make out between the gasping and crying and hands over her face.

"Forgive me, God. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I'm just so scared, I know what's out there for me, and I can't keep doing it."

If only she knew how unhappy Gracie actually was. It was true, Gracie was fortunate to have Camilo and Santiago by her side. But unlike Fior, Gracie wasn't allowed to express her deep sorrow, her fear, her pain or distress. She felt all of those things—sometimes so strongly that, in those brief moments of consciousness before she died, she'd often pray to stay dead for good. She wanted so badly to stay dead.

"It's okay," Gracie said finally, smiling unwillingly. "I understand where you're coming from."

"No... you don't get it. I still love him, Gracie. I'm in love with a Demon."

"He's just not himself... you know what the Tree does to him."

"He's a Demon. I never want to see him again."

She looked up from her hands, there were bloody streaks where her nails had dug into her face.

"But I can't leave him," she added softly, having a conversation with herself. "Oh God, I can't do

it. I'm not strong enough. I won't do it, I won't break my vows."

Fior believed Felix was still a good man. He was generous and kind and went to Church regularly, like a proper gentleman. He was once sociable, with many friends he loved being around, and who loved being around him. Fior, on the other hand, had always been quiet and meek, but she came alive through him. Felix helped her meet new people and in return, Fior filled his life with color, laughter, and several homemade pastries. Their wedding was the largest Pleasantwood had ever seen, and when Felix was deployed, the townsfolk made sure Fior was never lonely. Even after he came back from the military, while noticeably changed, Felix was still as popular and gregarious as ever.

But after the Tree, everything was different. His violence and intensity drove people away. Fior stood by him faithfully, and soon most of her friends disappeared too. Felix could handle it; none of these lost friendships could compare to the grief of losing Russell. Not as long as he still had Fior. But it broke his heart knowing what he was doing to his gracious wife; knowing that loving him meant isolating herself from the very community he had helped her build. Felix was banned from half of the places in town, and in solidarity, Fior avoided the same locations. Soon, it was down to just the two of them (and occasionally Gracie, who had no choice).

In the beginning, Gracie wanted to stay away from him like the others had. But the Tree wouldn't let her. She had to be his friend, and happily. But admittedly, she was grateful to have remained friends with Felix. He was still the man he used to be. Except, like her, he was a victim to a curse that wouldn't let him exist autonomously. A curse that controlled his words, his actions, his very mind. It was a type of Hell only they could understand.

"Are you planning to divorce him?"

A look of complete fear and realization washed over Fior's face, and she started to cry again.

"I can't. What am I going to do, Gracie?" She sobbed into her hands. "I can't divorce him, I won't do it. I just won't do it. I can't. I can't."

Gracie stood up from the bed and walked over to her, sliding down the wall slowly so they could sit side by side.

"Maybe you just need a little break is all."

"I can't do it," Fior repeated. "I can't tell him. He'll kill me."

"Hey, it's okay Fior," her lips began to move before she could stop them, "Don't worry, I can talk to him for you. Would that be okay?"

Wait, what?

Fior looked at Gracie with wide eyes. Her cheeks were stained with tears and blood, but she had a smile on her face.

"You'd do that for me? You'll tell him to move out, that I just need some space? Only for a little while?"

Of course not! She pleaded with her mouth to stay shut.

"Of course I will, Fior. You just leave it to me."

Fior hugged her tightly, throwing her entire weight onto her. They both fell backward, giggling.

Hey, at least if he does kill me, Gracie thought as they laughed together, maybe this time I'll stay dead.

But she knew better than that. Her laughing, very slowly, turned to low, muffled sobbing.