The Boy with Words for Skin

Chapter 33: After the Basement

Kit must've seen the light from Light leaking out from underneath the basement door because she flung it open before we reached the top of the stairs. She gasped at the sight of us and stepped aside as we filed into the kitchen.

"What happened?" She asked, trying to look at everyone at once. "Where's Porcelain? Is the monster dead? Evry? What were you doing down there? Oh my gosh! What happened?"

No one answered her. We were too exhausted and her freaking out only made it worse.

Kit's mouth hung open. She looked about to throw up, but then she shook her head and snapped out of it. "Sit! Everyone! Sit down! Who's hurt worst?"

She grabbed Light and tried to guide him to the table, but he pulled away. "I can wait," he said.

"But you're bleeding!"

"We're all bleeding," he said.

We all heard the basement door shut and turned to it.

It was Keys. We watched as he slid the key that had been torn off his hand into the door's lock. He twisted it until there was a heavy click.

Kit let out a muffled sound. She looked around the kitchen, checking again for Porcelain. Her lower lip trembled. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. When she opened her eyes, she seemed renewed. She commanded each of us to sit at the table and then started filling a bucket with water. "Legs! Mair! Get in here! And bring towels and the First-Aid kit! We have work to do!"

* * *

Kit didn't push us for details as she cleaned and patched us up. For this, I was thankful. I was too exhausted, too shaken up to rehash everything. As I sat at the table, waiting for my turn to be fixed up, I wondered about my brother. Where was he? When would he be back? Would he be okay?

Mair cleaned the grime out of our wounds. Kit sewed up the worst of the cuts. Legs helped us to the bathroom so we could shower.

The twins were excited to have more "tattoos," and when they asked for specific designs, Kit didn't refuse. The Dripping Boy asked for a skull with crossbones to fix up the gash on his head. The Boy with Zippered Flesh demanded lines of Xs along the slashes on his forearms.

I didn't need any stitches, but I was the last to shower anyway. By the time I got out, everyone was already in their rooms for the night except for Kit. She helped me go upstairs.

She tried to guide me to my bedroom, but I tilted my head at the bathroom. She nodded and we changed directions.

The Headless Dog was still in the bathtub. We'd left him there when we went to Thanksgiving dinner. It was hard to believe that had been only a few hours ago. It felt like days. When he saw us, he whimpered and barked. He wanted to know where my brother was.

Kit helped me into the bathtub and then left. I pulled The Headless Dog against my chest and petted him until he calmed down.

As I lay there, I knew I needed to thank Kit for all she'd done, but I was so tired. My eyes kept closing no matter how hard I tried to keep them open. The last thing I remember from that night was Kit looking down at me as she sat on the rim of the tub. I could've sworn I saw The Girl with Porous Skin standing next to her.

The following week was very quiet. Those of us who went down into the basement slept a lot. Whenever he wasn't in the tub with me, The Headless Dog moped around the house. He roamed aimlessly, hopelessly looking for my brother.

Because he disappeared from the entryway closet, I expected Boy to come back out of it. So, I spent most of the time I wasn't sleeping sitting on the stairs and staring at the entryway closet door. Kit sat with me for a while every day. I knew she wanted to know what had happened in the basement, but she never asked. When our eyes met, I could almost hear her say "When you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen." It almost made me cry every time.