To Light and Guard

Chapter Ten

In the evening, after Lana had finished another chapter of her book and Mary Eunice had prepared dinner and they both had showered, Lana stretched out on the sofa, watching the news, listening for anything she could cover in a column. Mary Eunice hummed in the kitchen, cleaning up after herself. Lana glanced over her shoulder. "Do you need some help in there?"

"No, I'm fine." In spite of the negative response, Lana turned off the television and headed into the kitchen. "You don't have to—really, I don't mind." The dishes soaked in soapy water while Mary Eunice wiped off the counters with a wet washcloth.

"I promise I won't set anything on fire." Lana grinned at her when Mary Eunice ducked her head, and she went to the sink to start on the dishes. "You should teach me how to cook something. You've got to get tired of slaving in the kitchen hours a day."

Mary Eunice shrugged. "I like to cook." She took the broom from the corner and began to sweep up the linoleum, the crunchy stuff compiling into a sand dune. "At any rate, it's better than dying of smoke inhalation." Her eyes took a mischievous glint as she looked up at Lana, nervous, seeking approval; Lana chuckled, if only to reassure her. "It gives me something to do."

Lana dried the dishes one by one and put them away; the rhythm of scrubbing calmed her from the day's events, Mary Eunice's presence offering a tranquility when her subconscious prickled from revisiting her memories of Thredson. Thredson, before she knew he was Bloody Face: helping her, drugging her into vomiting while she gazed at Wendy's picture in an attempt to cure her and free her. He had already killed Wendy by then. He had already taken the teeth from her skull and frozen her body after he desecrated it with his manhood—for Wendy, like Lana, had never allowed a man to touch her.

He hovered behind her eyelids, and her grip tightened upon the glass she grasped, waiting for him to fade, as if he would ever fade, as if she could ever banish him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he crept closer, wreathing around her neck, choking her. Something brushed against her hand. She gasped and jerked upright with a short cry; Mary Eunice flinched in surprise at her outburst. The glass slipped out of Lana's wet hand and shattered upon the floor. "Oh shit—I'm so sorry—" Lana's voice was dry, and she gulped to attempt to wet her tongue.

She staggered back from the mess. Mary Eunice reached to steady her, a hand on her waist. "It's okay. I got it." The vision hadn't stopped; a gun fired in her mind, and Thredson's head exploded, but then she heard it again and Wendy's head vanished into a mist, and then it happened to Mary Eunice, crossing memory with reality in a jumbled haze. She swayed, fighting to ground herself. "Be careful—" Mary Eunice could not save her from stepping into the mess of glass on the floor; all of her plucking hands could not support Lana's sagging body.

The pain pierced her dreams. "Goddamn," she hissed, recoiling. Spatters of blood dribbled onto the tile like red paint. "I'm sorry." The apologies flipped off of her tongue. I promised not to set anything on fire, but this must be a damn close second.

"Don't move." With her broom, Mary Eunice summoned the glass into a pile and banished it to the corner before she delicately stepped over it, searching for more shards with her bare feet, hoping she didn't find them. Under the sink, she sought her dustpan, and she swept the glistening shards into the pan and dumped them into the trash. Lana clutched the countertop for support, unable to place her injured foot on the ground; pathetic dribbles of blood ran down her sole like tears. Mary Eunice stood and offered both hands to Lana. "Hold onto me."

Lana grabbed onto her and managed to hop back to the sofa. She wrapped her foot in the throw on the back of the couch to keep from dribbling all over the cushions. Mary Eunice returned with the first aid kit. "I'm sorry," Lana stammered again. "I didn't mean—"