Chapter 51: Tears and Popcorn

Dickhead. She said that word over and over in her head as she stumped into the kitchen, portioned her required dose, wrapped it in a napkin, and stuffed it in her bag. Then, on her way back, she glanced at the television to figure out why Tom was so bothered.

"Right now, the lead perpetrator is believed to be Floyd Davies, also going by the alias Killer Cell. He was an agent of the Special Paramilitary Division, a heavily armed branch under HAVEN known for their prowess in dealing with superhuman threats. It is unknown what his motives were and why he targeted the Radiant Tower. However, the authorities say…"

The headline below the reporter stated that Ampress, a prominent member of The Radiant Assembly, had died in service of her country during the attack, along with many other casualties. Her heart raced as she listened to the reporter's words. Wasn't The Radiant Assembly supposed to be the strongest team of superheroes? How could Ampress be killed? Ampress had been in The Radiant Assembly long before she was born. Her history teacher, Mrs. Leone, always raved about the philanthropic superhero and her exploits in fighting for women's rights.

Tom's words snapped her out of her troubling thoughts. "All these freaks, killing each other and taking us along as collateral. We ought to chase 'em out of the country so us regular folks can have a breath of fresh air."

She turned to the stairs but stopped, shifting toward Tom. The news was still on, so she waited. It wouldn't do her any good to anger him when she had a request to make.

When the commercials came on, she spoke. "My friend invited me to study for the midterms at her place. Can I—"

"No." Tom took a long drink of his beer, finished it, and discarded the can to the floor. Looking closer, she saw the cast wrapped around his hand. "You seem to forget what you did. You're grounded."

She opened her mouth but bit back her retort. "How long?"

"As long as I fucking want. Now piss off!"

Her eyes quickly shifted from his fractured wrist to his disheveled face. The words she spoke afterward were better left unsaid. Nevertheless, Tom had a knack for riding over her nerves with a bulldozer. "Maybe if you didn't raise your hand to a twelve-year-old girl, you wouldn't be nursing a broken wrist right now."

The temperature in the room dropped.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Rather than repeat her words, she backtracked till her foot hit the lowest step of the stairs.

Tom rose, his belt already swinging in his good arm. "One of these days, I'm gonna fucking burn that foul mouth of yours and strangle you. You think this is a game, you psychotic bitch?"

Again, she should've shut her trap and run to her room. "I'd like to see you try. Let's see if you can break your other fist off my jaw and cry like a baby again."

Tom's bloodshot eyes widened with seething rage as he lunged forward, completely forgetting about his belt with his hands reaching out to grab her. She jumped back, causing her foot to clip on a step. With no other option, she stretched out her hands to break her fall, realizing that escape was now impossible. Resigned to her fate, she peered back, when a small foot stuck out under the charging monster and fell him like a sack of potatoes. The wet crack of bones crunching was followed by his agonized screams. Rolling around in pain, he clutched his bleeding nose while crying profusely.

This time, she did the sensible thing and ran out the front door.

"I'll kill you!" Tom shouted behind her. "When I get my hands on you, just fucking wait! I'll send you to hell where you belong!"

She kept running until her house was no longer visible. Then she collapsed on the sidewalk before a bungalow with a well-maintained lawn. An elderly woman who sat on a rocking chair by the porch noticed her, and with slow, unsteady steps, came over.

"Young girl," the woman said. "What's got you running to the brink of exhaustion? Are you lost?"

She lay flat, uncomfortably on her backpack, while staring at the blinding sun that was replaced by the woman's shriveled and concerned face. "I was running from a monster. And no, I'm not lost. Just need a second to catch my breath."

The woman offered a hand, which she took, and some further help like a glass of water, which she declined, then went on her way. As she walked at a brisk pace, she fished out her phone.

"Hey."

"Hey, August!"

"I need your address. I'm on my way."

"One sec, I'm sending it to you now. By the way, why do you sound so out of breath?"

"Oh, I was taking a walk. See you later. Bye."

Her phone chimed with Emily's address. It seemed that Emily lived in Oldtown, about thirty minutes from her father's on foot.

"Geez, gurl," Lily said, appearing. "I never knew you could out-quip me like that. You had his blood boiling hotter than a pot of gumbo on a Cajun stove."

The fairy looked proud of what she had done back at the house. However, her reaction was dissimilar to Lily's. Her hands still trembled, as if Tom was nearby, hiding behind the trashcan down the road.

"Exercise caution regarding the words you use when the recipient is prone to violence, as Harry would say," Lily said, matching the sasquatch's inflections and cadence. "But I say screw that. Get him, gurl! He deserved so much worse for what he did to you. And he still had the flipping gall to threaten you from his high horse. The fucker. I should've set his arse on fire. That would serve the dickhead right."

Try as she might to keep a neutral expression, she couldn't help but chuckle at the fairy's words. Lily kept her company on her way to the subway, her worries momentarily forgotten.

A stale odor and grime-infested walls greeted her as she entered an aging train bound for Oldtown. The only other people present in her cabin were a group of rowdy young men seated at the back of the cabin. One of them eyed her with a creepy hunger as if she were a cut of barbecued steak. He seemed intoxicated, tapping one of his friends to look at her.

The next time the train stopped, the man and his friend rose, coming over. She clutched her bag and glanced at the door, ready to bolt. It was Harry Tophat's presence that stopped her from running away. The sasquatch stood still in the narrow pathway before the men. They crashed into him and bounced back like they had hit an invisible wall. After exchanging glances, the men turned to her, their expressions filled with puzzlement. Determined to reach her, the man who had first sighted her rushed forward again, only to achieve the same outcome, bouncing off Harry Tophat and landing arse-first on the mud-stained floor. His friend, seeing firsthand what happened, pulled out a knife, his face heavy with fright. Harry Tophat leaned in and growled in a menacing tone.

"A ghost!" The second man jumped back, then fled to the safety of the larger group. "There's a fucking ghost!"

As a finale to his play, Harry Tophat grabbed the collar of the man still seated on the floor and dragged him over to the larger group. All hell broke loose after that. They scurried off like flies, pressing themselves to the walls of the cabin, away from the supposed ghost. Some escaped from the cabin into the next one through the vestibule door.

As for August, a triumphant smile spread across her face. During the rest of her trip, it was the grown men who cowered in fear before the twelve-year-old girl. And she loved it.

❊ ❊ ❊

After ringing the doorbell twice, she took a step back to double-check the house against the address given by Emily. The house that stood before her was a magnificent and whimsical sight, capturing the essence of Oldtown's Victorian-era architecture. It boasted ornate columns, church-like rooftop finials, charming canted bay windows, and even round towers. It seemed straight out of a Disney movie.

The tall front door opened inward.

Emily peeked her head out. "Hey, come in."

When she ascended the steps up the front porch, Emily snatched her hand and pulled her in. The foyer that greeted her alone rivaled the size of the dining room in her father's home. Allowed to gawk, she marveled at the high vaulted ceilings and the elaborate glass chandelier that shimmered a thousand lights.

"Not bad, right?" Emily said.

She peeled her eyes from the chandelier, giggling. "Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all."

The spark of an idea flashed in Emily's eyes. "So we have the house to ourselves. I could give you a tour if you'd like."

Her head almost fell off from how intense her nodding was.

Emily took her around the house, past the elevator, into the dining room, kitchen, and parlor. August noted the intriguing antique furniture scattered throughout the massive house, filing them for later drawing sessions, while Emily highlighted the history of the many paintings and sculptures dotting the residence. After the tour, they descended into the basement where a twenty-seat theater was located. They took sizable servings of popcorn from the popcorn machine and candy from the candy dispenser in the refreshment room before filing into the theater. With the LED lights turned off, mood lights set, and goodies in hand, they settled down to enjoy some movies. Emily wanted her to see Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. She found it very enjoyable—taking a keen liking to Death, an anthropomorphic wolf with a sinister look—but fancied something more hardcore after that, like the classic, It; a movie about seven children terrorized by Pennywise, a shape-shifting clown. By the end of the movie, Emily clung to her in fear.

"I can't believe you had me watch that," Emily said, still holding onto her after they exited the theater. "Now I can't sleep alone. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Aww, that's too bad. You don't wanna make friends with Pennywise, who is likely hiding under your bed?"

Emily pouted, feigning an outburst of tears.

"I know," she said. "We could have a sleepover and check under your bed together. That way, he'd be too scared to come out."

Their plans for the night settled, they took the elevator to the third floor. Emily's room could've been a small house on its own. The walls were pink; the windows draped with fluffy pink curtains. To the right, an expensive-looking computer system sat on a study table. A luxurious canopy bed, painted in a soft cream shade and embellished with decorative finials and see-through curtains, occupied the center of the room. Still, something seemed off with the room.

Wardrobes!

"Where'd you put your clothes?" she asked.

Emily pointed to the door on the right. That door led to a walk-in wardrobe the size of her room at her mother's house. The door on the opposite end of the bedroom led to a full bathroom with an expansive shower system and a wide bathtub.

"Holy smokes, you live like a princess."

Emily shrugged uncomfortably.

After seeing that, August dropped the topic, and they finally moved to Emily's bed to study. An hour passed of intense back and forth between them concerning their books. Afterward, August announced that she was parched, so Emily left to retrieve some water.

After drinking the cold cup of water, she asked a question. "How come we're still alone? It's almost six."

"Both my parents are busy," Emily said. "Mom works till midnight and Dad's a chef. He'll be back by eight."

"Even at that, it must still be lonely for you to sit at home all alone and dangerous at that."

"Oh, I'm never quite alone. You just didn't notice them and I told them you'd be coming. Security is always present in the compound. Before, it used to be more lively, but my sisters are off to college. When you offered to stay over earlier, were you serious?"

August's phone interrupted their conversation by ringing. She hoped it was her father, but her heart jerked in response to it being her mother. The next few minutes she spent contemplating whether to answer the call or not. The last thing she wanted was to hear now Grace's voice. Well, the second last thing, as Tom's presence in her vicinity took the cake. Emily watched her with a puzzled look. So long were her troubling thoughts that the phone had to ring through three cycles before she answered it. In the end, it would serve her father's custody case better if she clarified that she hadn't run to him as messed up as the law was. She heard Tom arguing in the background before her mother silenced him.

"Hey, August," Grace said. Her tone sounded soft and worried. "You were supposed to come home today. Did your father not let you know?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Then where are you? I can come pick you up right now."

A knot formed in her throat. So Grace had no knowledge of what had transpired between her and Tom.

"August? Baby? Come home, okay? I'm sorry for what happened the other day. We weren't in the best mental space. I promise it won't happen again."

Tears streamed down her face. "I can't."

"Why? Tom's learned his lesson. I'll even cook your favorite for dinner and take you down to the ski arena."

When she didn't reply, her mother's voice took on a harsher tone. Almost vindictive.

"Are you at your father's? Put him on the phone. He should know the consequences of messing with me. I will show him what it—"

"I am not with Dad!"

"Then where are you, August? You're scaring me. This city is very dangerous with those freaks running about."

"Not more dangerous than your house, that's for sure. Ask Tom there how he broke his nose?"

"Wha…" Her mother paused and put her on hold, possibly talking to her boyfriend.

This gave her time to exchange looks with Emily. No words were spoken, but a level of understanding was reached between them.

Her mother came on again. Tom was now mouthing off in the background. So August waited for their argument to die down.

"Sorry, August," Emma said. "It's ok now. You can come home. Tom's leaving for a motel for the night."

"No."

"Why? He is going. He won't be here. You'd be safe."

"No, Mom. I won't." She paused to wipe her tears with a hankie Emily handed her. "It doesn't matter if he's there or not anymore. After what he said to me today, I can't ever see myself being in his vicinity. Or in a place he still has access to."

She cut the call before she broke down. The dam still broke loose. Thankfully, Emily was there to hold her till the sobbing died down. Till she fell asleep.