Erik's bedroom had been transformed into a makeshift taxidermy lab, the air thick with the chemical smell of preservatives and the subtler, more disturbing aroma of death arrested mid-decay. The tray table had been pushed aside, and upon it slouched a creature that defied natural classification—a chimera of Erik's own making.
He lifted a cell phone to his ear, his free hand hovering over his creation with the delicate precision of an artist or a madman. There was little difference between the two in the dim light of his room.
"You've been avoidin' me," he said, no preamble, no greeting—just accusation.
"Not at all," Madison's voice replied, tinny through the speaker yet still carrying that note of defiance that had first caught his attention.
***
In her bedroom, Madison clutched a half-packed duffle bag as she eyed at the slightly open hallway door. Her escape was taking shape, transforming from fantasy to reality one item at a time.
"I'm super busy with school and dealing with a crazy mom," she continued, scratching at a small sore on the back of her neck.
She slipped into the bathroom, shoving a toiletries bag into the duffle with movements that suggested practice at hasty packing. "Keeping up with my posts and followers is exhausting."
Her eyes shifted to the toilet, the porcelain gleaming ghostly white in the bathroom's harsh fluorescent light.
***
Back in Erik's bedroom, the creature took on more definition as he worked. Its unholy assemblage featured a rabbit's torso, lizard legs, bird wings for arms, and a raccoon head with hollowed eyes that seemed to follow his movements despite their emptiness.
"Don't act like ya don't see me reachin' out," Erik said, his voice hardening. "I see ya posts."
He swept a small brush around the raccoon's eye sockets, the motion incongruously gentle given the violence of his words. "Ya film those on ya phone, so I know ya see my texts. Whatcha think I'm stupid?"
***
In Madison's bathroom, the toilet tank cover rested upside-down beside the tank, while an open plastic bag occupied the sink. The hiding place was amateur, desperate—but desperation had become her baseline state.
"Don't make me drive over there," Erik continued, his voice dropping to a register that made Madison's skin crawl. "You'll learn, I have no reservation when it comes to smackin' a woman."
Madison sat on the toilet seat's lid, her body tense. "Aggressive! Look, I got you. You can trust me."
***
Erik applied glue around the raccoon's eyes, preparing to secure what looked like green glass eyeballs within the sockets. The eyes were too large for the skull, giving the creature an expression of perpetual shock.
"This is all gonna work out," Madison said, her voice carrying a confidence her body language belied.
Erik scoffed. ”Trust me when I say, I'll show up to collect, and it's either gonna be the cash or your ass."
***
Madison stared at her phone, the screen's glow illuminating the disbelief on her face. "Really?"
She shifted her gaze to the half-packed duffle bag, the weight of her situation pressing down on her like a physical force.
Faith's muffled voice drifted in from the hallway. "Time for bed," it startled Madison so badly she nearly dropped the phone. "Ye, ye, yeah, sure," she stammered, her heart hammering in her chest.
Faith appeared in the doorway of Madison's bedroom, clad in flannel pajamas that seemed to emphasize her ordinariness—as if the woman who danced with snakes and spoke in tongues could be contained in such mundane fabric.
"Are you okay?" Faith asked, her concern either genuine or a masterful performance.
Madison shoved the cell phone into her pocket. "I'm fine." The lie came automatically, a reflex developed over years of conversations with a mother who saw only what her faith allowed her to see.
Faith entered the bedroom and paused, her eyes closed, hands clasped in front of her. "God, I thank you for Madison. I feel so blessed to have her here"
Madison rolled her eyes, the gesture containing years of accumulated frustration and disbelief.
Faith took a step further into the room, trying to catch a glimpse through the door, but Madison was out of her line of sight. "May angels surround her bed as she sleeps, and may she have pleasant dreams. Amen."
Madison shoved the marijuana back into the plastic bag with frantic movements. Faith's footsteps approached, each one a countdown to discovery.
"Madison?" Faith called.
Madison struggled to seal the plastic bag, her fingers suddenly clumsy with panic. "What?"
Faith stood outside the bathroom door, her shadow visible in the gap beneath it. "Really!?"
Madison hastily secured the toilet tank lid, her mind racing. In a burst of desperate inspiration, she flipped the toilet seat cover up and sat in a reverse position just as Faith swung the door open.
"Say it... amen," Faith demanded, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.
"Wow. Amen, Faith." Madison's voice dripped with sarcasm, her only available defense
"That's a weird way to sit on—" Faith's words trailed off as her gaze landed on the toilet. "What's that?"
The plastic bag protruded from under the toilet tank's lid, a damning corner of evidence that no prayer could absolve.
Faith eyed it for a long moment before flipping the lid over, revealing the bag in its entirety. Time seemed to slow as the room filled with a silence so complete that Madison could hear the blood rushing in her ears. In that moment, she understood what Hope had implied: when you try to run from your problems, you create new ones.
Madison's heart hammered against her ribs as Faith threw the tank lid onto the bed. The plastic bag tore under Faith's eager fingernails, its contents spilling across the rumpled bedspread like entrails from a gutted animal: currency in neat stacks, a tube of lipstick rolling toward the edge, a small digital scale, and a bag of marijuana that seemed to glow faintly green in the dim bedroom light.
Faith's eyes widened, pupils dilating with something between defeat and rage. Without warning, her fingernails dug into Madison's forearm, breaking skin. Five half-moon indentations that would later bruise, Madison thought distantly. As Faith pulled her forward, Madison instinctively pushed against her, hands struggling to break free of Faith's grip, but it was too late. They tumbled together, a tangle of limbs and fury.
They tumbled together, a tangle of limbs and fury. Faith somehow landed on the edge of the mattress while Madison fell awkwardly into her lap—a position of vulnerability that Faith immediately tried to exploit. Madison felt Faith's hands repositioning her, attempting to bend her over her knee like a misbehaving child.
Madison twisted away, her elbow connecting with Faith’s stomach as they crashed to the floor together, the thud of their bodies against the hardwood simultaneous with Faith's expelled breath. They rolled, grappling, Faith's hands seeking control, Madison's seeking escape.
And then, somehow, Madison found herself on top, knees pinning Faith's shoulders to the floor. A strange calm descended over her, a quiet in the eye of the hurricane. She looked down at Faith's face—this woman who'd promised safety, promised care—and felt something ancient rise up from her belly, through her chest, and out of her throat.
The sound that tore from Madison was barely human. A roar that belonged to something caged for too long. Her fist rose of its own accord, knuckles white, tendons standing out like cables under her skin.
Faith's eyes shifted beneath her, pupils contracting to terrified pinpricks. Tears streamed sideways across her temples into her hair. The look on her face wasn't anger anymore. It was confusion layered over weakness layered over pure, naked terror.
Madison recognized that look. She'd worn it herself too many times.
The realization hit her like ice water. She pushed herself away from Faith and scrambled backward until her spine hit the bed frame. She turned away, unable to face what she'd almost done, what she'd almost become. The sobs came then, hot and violent, tearing through her chest like they might crack her ribs.
Behind her, she heard Faith rising slowly, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet as she retreated. Madison didn't turn. Couldn't. The tears flowed freely down her face, dropping onto her trembling hands.
Click.
The lights went out. Now only two sources of faint illumination remained: the bathroom's dim glow and the sliver of light that cut under the barely open hallway door. Madison's gaze fixed on that thin line of light, watching as Faith's shadow passed in front of it, momentarily blocking the glow before moving on.