Page 51 of Wicked Vile King
"Mom," I say again stupidly, slipping a little as I walk closer to the tub, wading deeper into the water and catching myself on the wall.
"Mom," I say, and it sounds like a sob. When did I start crying?
I slip on the tile and finally reach her body, where the water is tepid but her skin is still warm. "Mom," I cry, shaking her, but there's no response. Her flesh is clammy beneath my hands, and there's an unnatural whisper through her parted lips as she stares at me.
I scream.
I feel it detonate like a bomb to my middle.
She's gone.
I bolt away from the body as she whispers in death again and slips further down into the water, her head lolling against the side of the tub as she does.
I scream and back away on all fours, scrambling and soaking all of me before I hit my head on the wall.
The impact is hard, and it knocks my vision away for a moment. When I come to, the automatic light in the bathroom has switched off, and I blink out into the dim light, dusk dying outside the window behind the tub. I wave my hands, but it doesn't turn on. I crawl on my hands and knees back to the door, blood and water and God knows what else wetting my jeans and my t-shirt. I hiccup in the growing darkness, and desperate, I scramble to stand, but my feet are too slippery. I fall, landing on the doorknob and dealing its final death blow, shearing off the handle from the inside.
No!!! No, no, no, no, NO!!!
I scream and pound on the door, my hands hammering at the wood. "HELP!"
I don't know how long I hammer at the door, my fists hitting the wood and rattling it on its hinges, but it won't come undone. I yell until my voice goes raw, until it feels like it bleeds, and then I keep screaming until all I can manage is a croak.
I need to call someone, the police, my father, someone, but there's no one else here. The maid left hours ago, and I wasn't supposed to be here.
I turn, defeated, and find my mother still staring at me, her honey-colored eyes glazed over.
I have to get out of here. I can't be in here. Not with her. Not like this.
Why would she do this?
Why wasn't I enough?
She slides farther down into the tub, and I am desperate, my heart in my throat, needing to leave, needing to find help, to fix this. I scramble to the side of the tub nearest the wall and try to climb over it carefully, planting my feet on the ledge, but I'm barely halfway to the window when my foot slips, and it touches her. I scream and bolt backward, and I'm all the way against the wall now crab-crawling to the door, staring straight ahead at her. She's moved a little now so that she's turned, peering straight at me.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dumhammers my heart. I try to scream for help again, but no sound comes out.
Nineteen hours.
That's how long I waited until help finally showed up, and the maid found us upstairs.
Today, though, I am grateful I don't have to wait that long.
There are hands on my shoulders, fingers gripping tight, and a voice I recognize talking loudly at my face.
"Willow," Trixie says out of the darkness. "Willow, wake up."
I suck in a strangled breath and go absolutely rigid as my eyes open.
"Are you okay?" Trixie asks me.
I nod. She knows me well enough by now to know what the nightmares look like, when I'm always deposited back with my mother. I've only had them nearly every night since I've been here.
Except when he walked the halls. You didn't have the nightmares when he was there to dream about instead.
I push down the truth while Trixie looks at me like she just found a kicked puppy, only I'm the puppy.
"Lucky for you, Sundays are fun days, so come on and get dressed. Roll call's about to begin. We can grab food from the dining hall."
