The Boy with Words for Skin

Chapter 21: Pressure

I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in months. The Headless Dog had moved up to lay between me and my brother at some point. They were both still asleep. I didn't want to risk waking them up by moving, so I just laid there for a while. For a few minutes, I was at total peace. But then everything came back to me.

Mair telling me about the footsteps he tried to pray away. The Halloween party. The basement. My destroyed hoodie. Tang glaring at me from the top of the basement stairs.

I needed to talk to Kit.

I grabbed onto the edge of the tub and tried to pull myself up, but like the night before, my muscles stalled. The harder I tried, the worse the pains in my body got. Eventually, I collapsed.

Of course, that woke them both up. The Headless Dog jumped to its feet and started barking. Boy sat up. "Where are you going?" he asked.

It was a little after seven. "I just wanted to go get some food."

"I can get it."

He sounded so eager to do it that I couldn't say no. "Sure. Thanks. How about I stay here? You can go to breakfast and just ask Kit to bring me some food up when breakfast's all done, okay? I can wait."

Boy stretched his arms over his head. "Okay." He got out of the tub and helped The Headless Dog get out, too. "You just stay there. We'll take care of you."

I smiled. "Thanks, Boy."

"You're welcome."

*      *      *

Kit brought me a glass of water, two slices of buttered toast, and a bowl of strawberries and orange slices. "I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be. I can go get more if you want." She set everything down on the blankets and then sat on the rim of the tub.

I sat up with a groan and leaned back against the tub's wall with another groan. "Thanks." I wasn't hungry, but I started eating, anyway. Now that she was there, I had no idea where to start. 

After a minute, she started for us. "What happened down there, Words?"

Swallowing my food, all of a sudden, was surprisingly difficult. When I did, I couldn't look at her. "They attacked me."

She waited for me to go on.

"They tied me up. They choked me. And when they let me go, they said I had sixty seconds to get back upstairs before they killed me." My heart quickened from just thinking about it—the darkness, the spike going through my hand, scrambling up the stairs, slamming the door shut just in time.

"When you say 'they' . . . do you mean Porcelain?"

Did I? Had she been involved? I hadn't heard her say anything, but she never said much. "I don't know," I said.

"You don't know?"

"They had a bag over my head. I couldn't see anything. I don't think she was with them."

She accepted that and moved on. "Did they say anything about what's been making those noises down there?"

My stomach twisted.

I must've looked really scared. "What?" she asked.

"They're controlling it."

"What do you mean—controlling it?"

I was starting to get frustrated. "I don't know! They didn't answer my questions! All they said was that we don't need to worry about whatever that thing is because they have it under control."