Chapter Eight

"I want to open the kitchen up," I tell Milo, using the sledgehammer as a cane to lean against it. I'm not too sure if I can even pick it up, but I sure do look like I mean business with it by my side. "I'm thinking we knock down this wall." I show him with my hands, waving them in front of the wall in hopes that it paints him a picture of what I want.

The roofers above look down from the hole in my damn roof. "You're going to need to check that the wall isn't—"

"—Isn't load bearing." I roll my eyes when men try to explain something to me. I'm so sick of them. "I know."

The one peeking his head through the hole grins, and he takes off his hat. "Well then, a lady who knows a way to my heart. You want to maybe go out sometime?"

He isn't a bad-looking guy but every part of my body revolts at the thought of going out with him.

"I appreciate the offer, but no thank you, respectfully. I just don't want to date anyone." I grip Milo's arm, hoping this guy doesn't get angry from my rejection. My hand tightens around the handle of the sledgehammer, preparing myself to swing it if necessary.

"No problem. I understand. I had to try, right? I can check to make sure you don't need that wall if you like. No pressure," he adds.

"Thank you, but I'll figure it out." There's a small amount of defiance growing. I could take his help, but I don't want to. I'd rather pour myself into books and online searches. Maybe it's pride, but I want to prove I don't need his help.

I can do this.

Any man be damned.

"Sure, no problem. I respect a strong woman. I like it. You sure you don't want to go out to dinner?" he jokes, giving me a wink. "I'm kidding. If you need anything just holler at us up here. We'll be another day or so, maybe. I think we will need to replace some structural beams."

"I figured," I sigh tiredly, imagining the money vanishing from my comfortable bank account thanks to my parents wanting to take care of us after they died. "Do what you have to do. I want this house to be my forever home."

"You got it."

"Okay, let's check to see which way the joists run," I instruct Milo.

He lifts his brows, "Joists? Someone has been doing their homework."

"The house won't renovate itself." I shrug. "It's best I know what to do."

"I'm proud of you." Milo glances out the kitchen window, scowling. "I thought you got rid of that ugly statue."

"It's back?" I sprint to the front door and rip it open, grinning when a menacing gargoyle is snarling, reaching toward me with one hand as if he was trying to snatch me off the ground.

I wish.

Stepping over power tools, my strides are long and determined. I stand in front of the statue, press my hand into its palm, and skim my fingers down his arm, across his chest, and hold my hand there— because I swear— there is a small, slow beat.

All the wishing in the world wouldn't make this statue real.

"I can't believe you like that thing, but whatever makes you happy."

"I feel safer knowing it's here. I don't know why. Whoever took him before, I'm glad they brought him back." I turn around, pressing my back against its chest, cover my eyes to block the sun, and shout to the workers. "Hey! I just wanted to say to please be careful. This statue is important!"

"You got it!"

"No problem, lady!"

"Will do."

All the roofers sound off without a care in the world. The longer I stay outside, the warmth of the sun bearing down on my shoulders, the more I want to stay right here— in the embrace of a creature that can't hurt me.

I'm surrounded by men and I'm doing everything I can to remain calm.

"Come on, this wall isn't going to tear itself down," Milo shouts from inside the house.

I force myself away from the statue, a piece of my soul being carved out and left behind for reasons I don't understand. Am I so broken, so fucked up, that the only thing I could want in this world is a statue made of stone?

"While you were making googly eyes at the statue, I made sure to check that this wall—" Milo pats it, and a piece of grime flops onto the floor "—Isn't load bearing." He grabs the handle of the sledgehammer leaning against the wall and hands it to me. "Ready to obliterate it?" He knocks on the wall with his index and middle knuckles.

I reach for it only to freeze when I feel a rush of warmth between my legs, wetting my panties.

Oh, no.

I'm early.

"I need to use the restroom. I'll be back. Don't get started without me." I point at him, slowly backing away.

"You okay?"

I nod, not wanting to give away personal information. Milo is used to it, but I don't want anyone to overhear I'm on my period.

"I'll rip out the cabinets then while I wait."

"I'll just be a few minutes." I spin on my heels and charge down the hallway, flinging the spare bedroom door open to grab a new pair of panties. Tucking them in my back pocket so no one can see, I dash to the only working bathroom in the house and lock the door.

Rustling through the cabinets under the sink, I grab a tampon from out of the box and groan at the thought of renovating the house over the next week. It's going to be exhausting. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to want to bury myself in the cloud of my comforter, watch reruns of my favorite shows, and eat junk food.

Maybe even cry a little for no reason other than because I fucking feel like it.

"Damn it," I curse when I see the red covering the middle part of my panties. Usually, I would wash them, but I don't have a washer and dryer hooked up yet, so I have to take all my laundry to the laundry mat or my siblings' apartment.

I roll them up and stuff them in the garbage before sliding in a tampon and slipping on a fresh pair of underwear to get on with my day.

"This shit is so overrated, I swear," I grumble, already annoyed that I'm bleeding and it's only day one.

When I'm done, I wash my hands, dry them, and head toward Milo. I hear him ripping the cabinets apart followed by the splintering of wood and a few curses.

I stop in the middle of the hallway noticing deep grooves carved in the walls. I bend down, tracing the five scratch marks. "What could have done this?" I whisper curiously, placing each of my fingers on a mark, and then dragging them down each line.

With every small divot I graze, the tips of my fingers tingle. Sparks travel up my veins, spreading through my arms. My chin nearly hits my shoulder to study the other wall. I stand in the middle of the hall, stretch out my arms, and follow the scratches with my fingers while I walk.

They stop at the very end where the hallway opens to the living room.

I brainstorm what could have caused this. Was it recent? I don't remember those marks being there. The gargoyle statue staring at me through the glass panel on the front door could have done it— if something like that could come to life.

I scratch the side of my head and sigh at the ridiculous thought. I can't say that out loud, or else my brother will think I have lost my mind, and he would not let me live alone.

The inside of the house darkens, and the bowling of thunder clashes, yanking me out of my wandering thoughts. There is work that needs to be done! How can it be raining, again?

"Oh, no, no, no!" I run to the back door and slide it open, watching as black clouds burden my day. Rain doesn't mist or sprinkle but pours. "Damn it. I've never seen a town get so much rain before. At this rate, the roof will never get done," I complain to no one, wanting just a small pity party for myself.

I stare at the lake, entranced as the water becomes bothered by the immense force of rain falling into it. Small waves form from every drop, never-ending ripples as far as the eye can see.

"That's okay," Milo says. "We can still work inside. The roof is covered with a tarp so now you don't need to keep a bucket in your living room where that hole is."

"Best to keep it there. You never know," I mutter, a cramp working its way across my stomach.

"You okay?"

I nod, a wave of exhaustion hitting me, but I won't let it win before I demolish that wall. "Let's get to work."

He scoffs, chugging a bottle of water. "I've been working, you slacker."

I shove him out of the way, leaving the door open so I can feel the breeze. The sound of the thunderstorm doesn't scare me as much when Milo is here. Ty loved to take advantage of the storms.

The lightning and the wails of the wind would cover my screams.

I don't want to be afraid anymore. Fear won't allow my life to grow. The shadows are a cold place to be when you're forced into them, now, I don't know how to escape.

I'm in survival mode and the last thing I want to do is die without realizing I didn't need to hide myself away in the dark when my villain is dead.

I let out a shaky breath, I slowly wrap my fingers around the sledgehammer and grip it tight. My jaw clenches imagining Ty at the other end of this weapon. Flashes of me beating him with swing after swing fills my heart with too much satisfaction.

"Looks like one of the roofers took your statue. Ugly beast is gone."

Milo's words take the wind from my sails and the satisfaction of killing Ty for a second time is gone.

"I'm right here," a deep voice whispers from the inside of my mind. "No one will ever take me away from you."

I try to pick up the sledgehammer, but I drop it, the floor shaking under my feet when it hits the ground.

Milo tosses the water bottle on the ground and dashes to me, trying to take the sledgehammer from me. "Are you insane? I didn't expect you to do this by yourself. I was going to help you swing it. You aren't—"

"—I'm not what?" I narrow my eyes at him, my grip even tighter around the handle.

"You aren't physically strong enough yet. I know you will be. But you're still recovering."

I slap his hand away, slighted at how he could hit me so low. "Excuse me?"

"That's not what I meant. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Mickey, you're still gaining weight. You're still healing. You're going to throw all that away? For what? For a wall?"

"It isn't just a wall!" I scream at him. "This house isn't just a house. This is my chance to start over. It isn't about renovating, it's…it's…" My eyes fill with tears and my breaths are ragged. "It's about me. This is my beginning. This is my renovation."

"You're renovating yourself," Milo says softly, his eyes crinkling at the sides with understanding and compassion.

"That wall will come down because I want it to."

"I can help you. Let me give you my strength, My Timid Little Bloom. Let me give you the power to annihilate anything and anyone you want."

The welcoming, soul-soothing voice has been missed today. I've been wondering where he has been.

"I can do it, Milo. I'm stronger than you think I am. Okay?" I tell the unknown stranger living inside my head. "I'm ready. I can do this."

"Good girl letting me inside you."

I want to know what his name is and what he wants with me, but I can't have a conversation with a ghost if my brother is around.

A warm, electrified cloak engulfs me from head to toe. A surge builds. My thoughts are blank, my tongue feels as though it is being licked from the inside, and arousal pools between my legs.

"Oh, I knew you'd feel good. Fuck, the things I want you to force yourself to do." Surrender yourself to me, Mickey. "

My hand wraps around the sledgehammer again, but there's something else, a hue around my fingers that I can barely see. A faint sheer hand plays in my vision.

And if I'm seeing what I think I am, the hand has long white claws and bumpy greenish-black skin that reminds me of a crocodile. The scales fade to gray where the color cracks in certain places.

Now, I'm hallucinating.

As the fingers wrap around mine, the strength of my grip is tighter.

"Ready to demolish your pain with me?"The phantom in my villainous mind asks, a proposal too sweet to say no to.

I'm falling in love with the safety and comfort a voice brings. I'd rather spend the rest of my life loving what I can't see, than experiencing the pain of what happens when I can.

The sharp inhale freezes midway to my lungs. The left arm of this delusion engulfs me, and the bicep bulges, nearly curling around my neck while reaching for the sledgehammer. I've never felt so infinitesimal before. This gentle giant curls his monsteresque fingers around mine until we are holding the weapon of destruction with all four hands.

I want to turn around and look up to see how tall my hallucination is, but if I do, my brother will know something is going on. I can't give him any reason to think that I can't live on my own.

I'm curious to know the face of my invader. If he has one. Would my mind think of someone new or would Ty's face be there to haunt me?

"Trust me."The illusion of lips brushes my ear. "I forgot to say, you smell fucking delicious today. You just wait until you're asleep. You just wait until I can have my way with you."

I'm still not able to imagine what my dreams will consist of. A strong buzz similar to a lightbulb humming is all that I hear in my mind. It's relaxing and I lean into it, hoping this visitant can take the weight off my bones.

They have been broken.

They have been bruised.

They have healed.

But they will never be as strong as they once were.

"They will be even stronger," he growls, helping me swing the sledgehammer through the air.

He can hear me?

"Everything you see. Everything you feel. It is mine."

"Yeah, there you go, Mick!" Milo cheers me on with a big smile on his face. I haven't seen him look so proud of me in such a long time.

"I'll kill the man that made your inside webs, forcing your pain to stick and tangle."

Swing.

"He's dead. I killed him," Ireply in my head, talking to myself.

Swing.

"Then I will dig up his bones and turn them to dust."

Swing.

"I will desecrate his grave so he can no longer rest in peace."

Swing.

"I will find his soul in Hell and ask the Devil himself to let me tear it to pieces."

Swing.

"I will make his afterlife a curse."

Swing.

Tears form in my eyes, and I scream at the top of my lungs, letting all the anger that has consumed me, the guilt, the regret, and the sadness.

"I will make him beg for his spirit to be nonexistent."

Swing.

I sob, nearly dropping the sledgehammer, but the figment of my imagination is there to lift it, helping me squeeze it tighter. He isn't allowing me to let go.

"I vow to be his death, his destruction, and his damnation. In this life and after."

Swing.

"I vow to inherit all your good and make him insufferable."

Swing.

"I vow to love you when you hate yourself."

"I vow to protect you when the light of day and the dark of night become your enemy."

"I will succumb to you."

And then he is gone, leaving me to gasp for air through a cascade of tears, a hurricane he created with his words. The sledgehammer falls from my grasp, and it slams against the new floors.

My knees buckle, but Milo is there, and he catches me. His arms wrap around my back and instead of holding me up on my feet, he takes us down to our knees.

"I got you. You did good, Mick. You did good." His hand cups the back of my head, and his other arm wraps around my waist to hold me against his chest.

I sob harder than I ever have, the loud, gut-wrenching wails that prove just how damaged someone's soul is. I struggle to breathe.

"I hate him," I cry, curling my fingers into Milo's shirt. "I hate him so much." The words are broken and drawn out with every wail.

Sweat drenches my body from bringing down the wall. My palms hurt from holding onto the handle. The release of agony from the depths of my bones is what is most debilitating.

"I know. I hate him too. I hate him so much."

I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing the tears to wet his shirt. "Snapdragons," I croak through my tears.

"No. None of that. Not anymore." Milo leans away and wipes my cheeks. "I will always be there when you say the codeword, but not now. Look what you did." He turns my chin to where the wall used to be. "You did that. You tore it down. Your pain is in ruins and your do-over starts now. Do you hear me, Mickey? There is nothing you can't do. Don't let him ever stop you from doing anything, even crying, even screaming. You let it out, but you let your laughter and happiness be the loudest so that son of a bitch can hear you from Hell."

Maybe what I saw wrap around me earlier was my own version of snapdragons. Instead of something beautiful, I conjured up a being that reminded me of what the snapdragon flower looks like once it's died.

A beast, waiting until the beauty dies to be shown.