Brighter Than the Sun

  Of course, I don’t tell Kim any of that, either. I just tell her the weird stuff. By that point, she is so excited, she’s sitting right next to me.

  “But what if she’s not a dream?”

  “Dutch? She has to be. People like that don’t really exist. No one is made of light.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I think she’s real.” She leans back against the wall and stares into space. “I think she will be beautiful and strong and she will kill bad guys with her superpowers.”

  I lean back, too. “If she does, she’ll have to kill me, too.”

  She bolts upright. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Uh-huh,” I argue.

  “You’re wrong.” She wraps her arm in mine. “You’re not bad. You gave me noodles.”

  “Well, that settles it, then.”

  “Wait,” she says, straightening. “Is—? Is my mom going to hell when she dies?”

  “No,” I say.

  Kim nestles beside me again, and I’m thankful she can’t feel other people’s emotions. She doesn’t know I just lied to her.

  Kim’s mom never shows up, which is understandable, since she’s burning in hell, but all of a sudden Earl seems okay with Kim being there. He’s never okay with anything. Ever. Unless there’s an angle in it for him. About two days later, I find out what that is. And my plans for leaving are shot to hell.

  10

  After that—after the park incident in which Dutch helps her father find the body of a little girl, a girl her own age, actually—her father goes to her one night. I’m there, too. I hadn’t been drawn there that night. I simply wanted to be there. To see her. To feel whole.

  I stay back so I don’t scare her. Her father goes to her room and tells her they’ve found the little girl’s body. He is confused, I can tell. He’s scared. Not of Dutch, but of what she can do. What she can see.

  “Of course you found her,” Dutch says. “She told me where she was.”

  She is wearing a pink nightgown and lime green socks. Classic Dutch style.

  “How?” he asks. He stands and rakes a hand through his hair.

  Dutch is confused, too. “She opened her mouth and told me.”

  “Charley,” he says, sitting beside her again.

  She is holding a doll and twirling its hair in her fingers.

  “How did she tell you, honey? I don’t understand.”

  She lifts a tiny shoulder, unable to comprehend what his problem is.

  “Sweetheart.” He takes the doll out of her hands and lifts her chin. “Explain to me exactly how … how she told you.”

  “Daddy, I don’t understand now. She just told me. Was she not ’posed to?”

  He lowers his head lets out a frustrated sigh.

  “Oh, and Jacob wants me to tell you that his girlfriend killed him. No one knows. They think she was out of town, but she gave her credit card to a friend, broke into his house as he was taking a shower, and stabbed him.” She looks over at the man in her room. The naked one covered from head to toe in blood.

  From the looks of it, the woman did more than stab him. He has burn marks on his body. Brandings. Like something ritualistic.

  Neither the blood nor his nakedness throws Dutch. She is already used to such horrors. Such atrocities.

  Maybe that’s why I long to be near her. Maybe it’s her sense of everydayness. Her acceptance of anyone, no matter how they died. No matter how they lived.

  “Jacob?” her dad asks. “Jacob Townsend?”

  She looks at the man. He kneels beside her bed so she doesn’t see him down there. He nods.

  “Yep,” she says, picking up her doll again. “Her name is Beth and he says she’s crazier than a gallon of Pop Rocks.”

  Her dad puts the doll down again. “Sweetheart, how do you know about Jacob Townsend? We just found his body two hours ago. It hasn’t been announced.”

  “Oh.” She straightens. “So, I should wait until it’s announced to tell you?”

  “What? No, honey, that’s not what I’m saying. How do you know about him?”

  “He told me.”

  His mouth falls open for a whole minute; then he asks, “How?”

  Dutch giggles and her laughter lights up the room. Jacob smiles. He is as mesmerized with her as I am.

  “He opened his mouth and told me. You’re funny, Daddy.”

  He rakes a hand through his hair again. But slowly, as more and more departed go to Dutch for help, he begins to believe her. She simply knows too much. Sees too much. And this becomes her life. From that day on, she begins helping her father with cases. And her uncle Bob. For the most part, nobody knows. Denise, the stepmother from hell, begins to suspect. It seems to make her even more jealous, and she treats Dutch worse than ever.

  11

  My thirteenth birthday is spent in the closet with Kim cleaning blood off me. Earl leaves after he finishes. Goes to see his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Sarah. Not because he misses her or wants a piece of ass. He got that from me. He needs money for beer, and she is his latest ATM.

  Sarah is a dental hygienist. She likes me. A lot. And not in a healthy, nurturing way. Her attraction was instant the first time Earl brought her home, but she hides it well. And she really likes Kim. In a healthy, nurturing way. So I put up with her. She cooks for us and buys Kim bubble bath. She says it’s for both of us, but I’m a tad old for bubble baths.

  In Sarah’s defense, I don’t look thirteen. Or at least I don’t think I do. Older girls are attracted to me. Younger girls are attracted to me. Women are attracted to me. Thankfully, most women don’t act on their impulses. Those who do are usually train wrecks.

  But women want me in a different way than girls do. The older they get, the more knowledgeable they are about what they want. Girls, young girls, want to make out. To kiss. To touch. They want to run their hands over my arms and back and stomach. Women want the same thing, but more. Much more.

  A lot of boys want to make out, too, but I don’t. I’m not into boys. And when men want me, I make it very clear I’m not open for business. I get enough of that shit at home. All in all, I get tired of their desire. Of the weight of it. Everyone wants something from me, and it’s exhausting. So, I usually hide under a hoodie. Like today. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

  After Earl leaves, Kim helps me stand. I take a long shower even though the hot water last only about three minutes. Then we sneak out of the apartment through a crawl space underneath the house. I have to get to the park. I’ve been waiting weeks for this day, and I’m not about to let Earl’s strange appetites ruin it for me.

  By the time we get to the park, I’m feeling a little better. It’s a warm day for the season, so I take off my hoodie, and three girls notice immediately. They start flirting with me. It takes my mind off Earl, so I flirt back. Just a glance here. A half smile there.

  Kim sinks into the background, seeks out the swings when the girls work up the courage to approach. They’re in high school. Juniors, they say as they flip their hair. They talk and laugh and play the usual games.

  One looks kind of like Dutch. Maybe that’s the real reason I’m entertaining them. She is like an older version of her, since Dutch is only ten. This girl isn’t quite so pretty, but she has the same hair color, dark brown. And her eyes are a similar shape, almond and catlike, though hers are blue gray and Dutch’s are gold. But that’s okay. I don’t think of Dutch that way. At least I don’t think I do. I find myself drawn to this girl because of the resemblance. Not sure what that makes me.

  They ask if I will settle a bet for them. They want to know who the best kisser is.

  It’s a lie. They never had a bet. But I don’t mind. They’re pretty, especially the dark one. And kissing can be fun under the right circumstances.

  Since I’m killing time anyway, we go to a grouping of trees just past the swings. Kim eyes me, worried. I avoid her probing gaze. She bites her lip and lets the swing sway back and forth as we disappear behind bare, weathered timber.


  I’m sore and I try not to wince when we walk up an incline, where I drop my hoodie on the ground. I put my hands in my jeans pockets. Lean against a cottonwood. And wait for them to make the first move. Because they always make the first move.

  The first contestant walks up. A pretty blonde with thick eyeliner and clear lip gloss.

  “Ready?” she asks. Her heart is beating fast. It pounds in my ears.

  I nod.

  A shy smile spreads across her face and she leans in. Presses her mouth to mine. Then her body. I don’t miss the fact that her hips rub against my crotch during the kiss. A kiss she deepens by sliding her tongue inside my mouth. She tastes like peaches. I leave my hands in my pockets. This is their game. It’s up to them how far they want to take it.

  And then it happens. It happens every time. The fall.

  When someone is kissing me or groping me or, hell, even going down on me, when they lose all sense of reality, they fall into a state of absolute bliss. They lose themselves in the act. They abandon all their inhibitions.

  I thought it was the same for everyone, but it’s not. Earl doesn’t do that when he kisses Sarah. Only with me. Not that we kiss. Fuck that.

  I’ve watched others, too. They get excited, but they never fall completely, and I wonder if it’s the evil part of me doing it to them.

  Either way, this girl has fallen. Her breaths quicken and she claws at me, wanting more. I wince when her nails rake across my stomach, but I don’t stop her. She breaks off the kiss only because one of her friends shoves her softly to get her attention.

  Then the girl starts giggling. “This is a contest. We all get a turn.”

  The contestant snaps out of it but doesn’t want to leave me. Her soft eyes gaze into mine. Drunk. Swimming with desire. Still not 100 percent back. Her lips are pink and plump from her excitement. Her friends give her another shove and she stumbles to the side.

  Next up is the other blonde. She is bolder. More confident. She kisses me hard. Presses into me harder. The bark scratches my back, but her fingernails are worse. She’s pretending at first. Putting on her best show. Trying to impress. But soon she does the fall thing, too. She breathes in slowly, enjoying the taste of me. Captivated, her muscles go slack and her head starts to spin. She digs her fingers into my hair and kisses me deeper and I feel a warmth pool in her belly and between her legs.

  Our teeth clink a couple of times, but she doesn’t stop. Her other hand clutches my ass and pulls me into her. The movement is rhythmic as she grinds against me. A soft moan falls from her lips and I’m getting pretty into the whole thing, too, when the first girl practically drags her off me. Cool air whooshes between us. Yanks me out of the moment.

  She turns on her friend with teeth bared and claws extended.

  Her friend giggles and points to the dark one. “It’s Celeste’s turn.”

  She calms down and shakes her head as though coming to her senses.

  Celeste walks up, the dark one, her steps timid. She bites her lip, then says, “I don’t know if I can beat that.”

  I give her my best completely blank expression. “I bet you can.”

  A soft laugh escapes her. Then she refocuses on me. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  I raise a brow.

  “Almost. I’ll be seventeen in two weeks. You?”

  Part of me doesn’t want to tell her. She’ll be horrified. But part of me wants to know what she will do when she knows the truth. “How old do you think I am?”

  She lifts a slender shoulder. “At first I thought maybe eighteen, but now I’m thinking at least nineteen. Maybe even twenty?”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You seem very … experienced.”

  I nod. “You’re close. Today’s my birthday. I’m thirteen.”

  Yep. Horror. She steps back, her face the definition of stunned. The other girls are, too.

  “Are you teasing us?” one of the blondes asks.

  “I wish.” And I did. I would’ve left years ago. I would’ve found a way to take Kim and leave. But Earl has made sure I can’t do that. If I leave, he’ll kill her. If I take her with me, he’ll say I kidnapped her and make sure our faces are plastered all over the planet. If I don’t do what he wants, he refuses her food, then water, until I give in to his demands. If I go to the cops and he’s arrested, she’ll end up in a foster home or a children’s home. I’ve seen a lot of kids from those homes. Some of those places are great. Some are worse than my darkest nightmares. No way will I risk it.

  If I were older, though, I could figure out a way. I’d have more options. I’d be smarter. More cunning like the Road Runner.

  Celeste steps back to me. “I feel like we just molested a child.”

  I lower my head and look at her from underneath my lashes. “You haven’t done anything yet. You aren’t forfeiting, are you?”

  I finally take one hand out of my pocket. Look at my watch. I have a little more time, so I loop a finger into the waistband of her pants and pull her toward me. She lets me. Leans into me. Parks her chin on my shoulder so I can whisper into her ear.

  “Show me what you got.”

  A thrill races over her skin. I feel it as strongly as she does. She accepts my challenge, but she doesn’t start with the kiss. She leans her forehead against mine. Lifts her hands to my hips. Eases them up under my shirt. Slides them over my rib cage. I pray that’s all she does.

  She falls almost immediately. Her huge gray eyes gloss over. Grow hooded. Intoxicated. Her breaths mingle with mine, and before she even kisses me, she runs her tongue along the seam of my mouth. It’s hot. She’s hot. Especially when she grazes her fingernails down my ribs and lowers one hand to my crotch. Feels the length of my erection.

  Heat swells inside her. Floods her abdomen and rushes down her thighs. She moves in for the kiss a microsecond before she is ripped off me. I see her stumble back, but I don’t move. The five high school kids standing around me convince me to tread carefully.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” one yells to Celeste.

  Her friends help her up. She is still … inebriated.

  Kim is standing behind one of the boys, her eyes wide.

  Three of them are wearing letter jackets with hornets on the chests. The other two are dressed to impress with expensive sneakers, jeans riding their hips, graying beaters, and thick chains that run from their belt to their hip pockets. They all look like they’re fresh out of prison. I can’t help but notice the knives they each have clipped to their belts either.

  The one who yelled turns to me. Raises his chin in greeting. Smirks. “Hey, dog.” He steps close. “You’re messing with the wrong girls.” Closer. “At the wrong park.” He has a lot of facial hair. “These are taken.”

  I look at Kim to make sure she is okay before refocusing on him. “They didn’t mention it.”

  “Leave him alone, Gabriel.” One of the blondes tugs on his jacket sleeve.

  He ignores her.

  “Well, how could they? With your tongue down their throats.”

  “Actually, theirs were down mine.”

  Celeste’s eyes become huge circles on her pretty face. She’s scared for me. A part of me is grateful. A part of me is embarrassed. But another part, a deeper part, feels bad for what she is about to see. I came here to kill someone, and it looks like I have my first volunteer.

  He reaches out, yanks off the chain I’m wearing around my neck, and throws it on the ground. That’d show me.

  Celeste walks up. “Gabriel, he’s only thirteen years old.”

  He laughs. They all laugh.

  “Bullshit.”

  “He is, and I’ll call the cops if you touch him.”

  Gabriel turns on her. Grabs her arm. Wrenches her forward. “Then what the hell does that make you? Kissing a thirteen-year-old? Maybe I should be the one calling the cops.”

  She pales and tries to step back. He doesn??
?t let her. He glares until she bows her head. She seeks me out from underneath her lashes. Her expression full of apologies.

  I look past her to another boy, this one younger. I’m not sure if he’s a part of the gang or not. He’s looking on but makes no move to join in.

  He turns his head and spits, completely at ease. But I can feel the ripples of tension that have his skin pulled taut over his muscles. He is anything but at ease. A bomber jacket is resting on the ground beside him. Like he just took it off. Like he is expecting trouble.

  “Maybe we’ll just give him a pink belly, then,” Gabriel says. “Teach him not to play in our sandbox.”

  Before I can react, three of them grab me and push me to the ground. If I hadn’t already had the shit kicked out of me, I could’ve fought them off better. Or at least given them a better show. Gabriel straddles my hips as they hold me down.

  At first, I just go with it. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse than a pink belly. But when Gabriel crawls on top of me, something inside me snaps. I’m tired of being hit. Of being handled and forced into situations I never wanted to be in. And I am damned sure tired of being straddled by men who are older than me. Bigger.

  Earl knows what I’m capable of. He’s learned to tie me up or drug me first. These guys have no clue.

  But before I do anything, I realize they’ve stopped. Everything has stopped. My shirt lies open, the edges tattered, and every gaze is locked on to my exposed stomach. Even the girls’. Their mouths open. Their brows drawn in horror.

  Humiliation bursts inside me. Kim tries to get to me, but one of the lettermen holds her back. He’s not like the others. I felt it the moment they walked up.

  “What the fuck?” Gabriel asks before he jumps off.

  I grab the tattered ends of my shirt and scramble to my feet. The one holding Kim has slipped from longing to blatant carnal desire. He wants to save me. To rescue me. To kiss the wounds on my stomach and hold me until I’m new again. If only that were possible.

  I get a similar reaction from the girls. They’ve shifted from desire to empathy in zero point three seconds, and I try to control the anger threatening to take hold of me.