Memories that Haunt Us

I hadn’t heard a word from my little sister and it was three days after they had started their tour. In about four hours, they should be going on stage and taking the crowd by storm. Maybe James was caught already?

“Momma, can you tell us a story?” Little Arabelle clutched JC’s hand as she tapped my shoulder. I was sitting on the couch in the middle of our living room. Bets was fast asleep after Sara and Oli had left two hours ago. Thankfully, she hadn’t woken up.

“Of course.” I started our night time ritual of stories and tucking ins. My little kids tromped upstairs to their room. JC’s was on the left and Arabelle’s room was just down the hall after the bathroom. As I entered Jonathan-Christopher’s little green room, he snuggled into the blue covers. Over his walls were posters of the bands that his father had introduced him to. Of course, little JC had fallen in love with Jack Barakat at soon as the two had met.

That one day on Warped Tour two years ago, Jack had been introduced to small JC. Just like “Uncle A-a-ron” it was love at first sight. Jack thought that JC was the cutest thing in the world and Alex had fallen in love with Arabelle.

“Can you tell me about wolves?” He asked. I nodded and sat down on his bed next to him. The lamp let out a dim glow. My son clutched a small stuffed bear that Tino had given him the day we took Jonathan-Christopher home from the hospital.

Ever since he opened a magazine about animals and saw a wolf in it, he loved the creature. My stories always had to include the beast and I had to get creative with my characters.

“Okay, okay. There once was a young wolf named Howl. Howl loved to run around in the forest with him mom and dad and pack. They always trotted around on a trail towards a waterfall. One day, the little wolf Howl fell into the stream-“ I started out.

“Did he die?” JC gasped. I smirked.

“The little wolf barked and yelped for his parents. The little wolf was struggling to stay afloat, but he couldn’t. His pack wanted was scared, but couldn’t go into the rushing waters to save him. As the little wolf floated down stream, he felt himself sink. Right before he hit the bottom, something dragged him to the surface. Howl the wolf was saved by a bigger, darker wolf with a coat of all black. It looked just like the tiny pup! Howl was shivering from the cold and trembling from the fear. Without another word, the wolf turned around and bounded into the forest.” I told him. JC’s eyes went as big as the moon in wonder. He was always entranced by the simplest stories.

“When Howl grew up to be a big, dark wolf, he was wandering through the forest. Howl did not have a pack and was a lone wolf. As he walked through the forest, Howl neared the river where he almost drowned. As soon as he thought about the memories, he heard a pup struggling in the water! He knew that somehow, he traveled back in time! Big wolf Howl leaped into the cold water and snagged his younger self, pulling him to safety. The little pup stared at him in wonder, but before he could recognize his older self, big Howl bounded into the forest behind him. From then on, big Howl wandered the forest and wondered at the old memories.” I concluded, running out of ideas. Usually it was Austin that told a story to his son. I always recounted tales to Arabelle. She always asked for more realistic stories.

“That was a good story.” JC murmured sleepily. I laughed quietly and kissed his forehead.

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I whispered and turned off the light. A small nightlight was plugged into the corner. It was the shape of a music note. He was already snoring by the time I closed the door. When I entered Arabelle’s room, she was reading a book. My big girl was always reading something. She had an aptitude towards literature.

“Hi, momma.” She said quietly. I smiled.

“Do you want a story tonight?” I asked her. She thought for a moment.

“Yes.”

“What type of story?” I sat on the edge of her bed. She set the book, The Runaway Dolls, on her bed stand and lay down on her pillows.

“The letter story.” She told me. Ah, Arabelle. She was always the romanticist. It was a good thing she loved this exact tale, but never the true memories behind it.

“So there once was a girl who had a little sister. Now, the big girl’s name was Joy and the little sister’s name was Hope. Joy and Hope found out their mom was dying, so Joy wrote a letter to a man who she had always admired from a distance, but never saw her. Joy wrote this letter because she had to tell someone what was happening, but knew that the man would never see her.

“After a week of waiting, Hope went out to the mail box and checked the daily mail. Inside was a letter from the man! Hope gave the letter to her sister and Joy read it. Joy wrote a letter back to the man and soon enough, they became friends over letters. Hope decided that she wanted to write a letter as well, so she wrote it to the man’s friend, whom Hope had admired as well.

“Although Joy was happy she got to talk to the man, she knew she could never see him. One day, Joy and Hope were playing in their house while they mom slept. Something blocked out the sun and made a large rumbling noise. Both girls were confused.

“’What was that?’ Hope asked. The doorbell rang, like an answer to their questions. Joy went to go get it, and the man was there! Joy was so happy that the man had come to see her! Hope peeked around Joy’s shoulder and saw that not only the man was there, but the man’s friend! Both boys had come out just to see the two girls!” I exclaimed in pure happiness at the fond memory. Through my glee, I saw that Arabelle was about to fall asleep.

“What happened afterwards?” She murmured. I smiled and clicked off the light.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” I kissed her forehead and closed the door. The faint hum of both children already drifting off into dreams made me feel a little better. I walked down the spiraling stairs and

“Raelyn.” A voice hissed from the living room. I whipped around and freaked out. This wasn’t Austin’s voice, no, this was someone else completely different. It was dark enough that all I could see was an outline of someone sitting on the recliner. I fumbled for the lights but didn’t find them. Instead, I grabbed for whatever was closest. It happened to be a pen. I held it like it was a knife and hoped to trick the intruder. All I hoped was that I wouldn’t wake the kids.

“Get out now. I’m calling the police.” I threatened. One moment, the outline was there by the chair. Now, it put a hand over my mouth and swiftly disarmed me. The clicked pen fell silently to the floor. I was being dragged into the kitchen and off the tiled floors into the pantry. The figure clicked on the light in the clustered room and closed the door. As the bulb flickered to life, the figure blocked the door.

It was Ryker.

I was awestruck. Why would he shove me in the pantry? What was he doing in my house? WHY DID HE HAVE A KNIFE IN HIS HAND?!

“What the-“ I gasped. He covered my mouth a put a finger to his lips. I attempted to bite his fingers, but he was too quick.

“Look, let me explain and then you can call the cops if you want.” He held up his hands in defense and put away the knife.

“You have five minutes.” I stated flatly. Okay, I’ve been in dangerous situations multiple times, so I can handle myself.

“Look, I’m here because James is on your trail. They spotted him just thirty miles behind LP and the tour bus. The thing is, I’ve been doing a little tracking of James on my own. He’s crazed-gone insane, even! He has this idea that he has to get you for himself, but is going to use LP to do it. He’s going to go for LP, but I know he won’t get to her. James isn’t strong enough to get past everyone to get to your sister.” Ryker explained, all begging pleas in his eyes.

“So they’ll catch him?” I asked. Relief flooded me. Although he might go after LP, they’ll catch him.

“No, they won’t. I’ll get to why in a moment. After James escapes, he’s going for you. I’ve done a little research on him, gotten access to official docs and such. Don’t ask how. He was admitted to a mental institute about ten years ago for two years. They discovered something, I can’t remember what, but it makes him focused on just one thing. Once he’s finished with his failed attempt with Lily-Pearl, he’ll come for you and won’t stop until he gets you.” Ryker begged for me to believe him. I patiently went over the information. It seemed like Ryker was the one who had something wrong with his brain.

“That’s insane. No, he can’t go for me because I have some people staying with me at all times.” I shook off the idea. James would be taken by the police. James was weak. I knew that since he beat me in high school. It would take a greater force for him to escape.

“Rae, he’s going to come for you! He’ll destroy those that are going to protect you and defend your family! Please, all I’m asking is for you and your kids to come with me for a few days. We’ll go to Northern California and hide out for a week until James gets frustrated and goes away, searching for more clues.” Ryker begged me. Should I really believe the man who had trapped me in the pantry at ten at night?

Should I really believe the man who had saved my life by killing my dad?

“Why will James get past the security and escape?” I changed the subject. Ryker played with his hands nervously. The ink on his arms rippled like a wave above lean muscles. He took a shaky breath.

“Hex. He escaped prison and now is working with James. They’re both looking for vengeance.”

Notes