Blood and Other Matter

Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Derrick

Thursday, September 8th

Derrick . . .

My binoculars clattered to the deck as I bolted upright, heart slamming in my chest. Did I drift off? I glanced at the red shadow covering the moon. I'd missed half the show.

My hair prickled on the back of my neck. Stiffening, I fought down the irrational idea that someone, somethingstood behind me. A sound caught my ear, something between a hushed breath and a sob. I spun around. Nothing. I was alone on the wooden porch.

Derrick?The wind whispered my name in voiceless desperation. Derrick!

Needles of white-hot pain slammed through my skull with so much force, I hit the deck with a strangled cry. The voice wasn't in the wind; it was inside of me. Pain washed over me in waves, then just as quickly faded. I crouched on the splintered boards, breathing hard, cradling my head in my hands.

"—the hell?" I muttered. What was I doing hunched over on the porch? I stood, surprised to find myself shaking. Dampness drew my hand up to wipe my nose, and I started at the sight of blood glimmering darkly on my fingers. "Did I just have a stroke?"

The doorbell rang. I glanced at my phone, still fuzzy with confusion. It was just after . Who would be ringing the doorbell this—Mom.Did something happen to Mom?

I rushed into the house, nearly tripping over the threshold in my haste. In a matter of seconds, I reached my front door, fumbling with the latch, and suddenly I was right back in the moment when everything changed— deputies at the door, my mother's wail, and the thud of her falling to the floor.

I glanced through the peephole, but there were no deputies on my front stoop. Just a slim girl, whose shadow I'd recognize no matter how dark the night.

"Tess?" I flung open the door, unable to keep the aggravation out of my voice. First, she'd ditched me for Josh Worthington, then she'd nearly given me a heart attack knocking on my door and bringing back all that— The sarcastic greeting I had prepped fled from the tip of my tongue.

She was covered in blood.

Coveredin blood. I'd heard the expression before but never really considered what it looked like. Her dress was matted to her body, and her face, arms, and legs were slathered in red flakes, like skin that got sunburned and peeled into those clumps that brushed off. Most of the gore looked dry, but some wet patches glistened in the porch light.

"Derrick," she sobbed. "Please." Her voice sounded different, like she was speaking from somewhere far away. "I couldn't get in my house."

That snapped me out of it. "What happened?" I pulled her through the doorway, my shocked brain registering the way her clothes squished under my palm. Bits of dried matter flaked off her and onto my entryway. "Are you okay? Hang on, I'll call Mom at the—"

"No!" She clutched at my shirt with clawed hands. "You can't call anyone. It's not . . . " She swallowed hard. "It's not mine."

"Then whose is it?" Since when were her nails this long? Where were her shoes? What did any of thatmatter? Why did I keep noticing all these stupid details while puddles of gore dripped on my floor? Could one person produce all of this? I glanced out to the street, confirming what I already knew. No car. "Tess, was there a wreck? Did Josh's car—?"

She shook her head, clinging to me with an anguished moan. "They kept screaming. I didn't mean to do it, but they just kept screaming."

I slammed the door, my hand leaving a wet print on the gleaming white paint. "Didn't mean to do what,Tess! Who was screaming? Your mom?" I pulled her toward the window, yanking aside the curtain to look across the narrow gravel street to her house.