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In Stephanie’s life, there were only two absolute truths.
One, she loved Miles. Two, she pretended like she loved everybody else.
Stephanie first met death at four. Waking up to the choked noise of anguish burbling up from her father’s throat, she’d slipped out of bed and padded into the hallway only to stare at the bent and crumpled figure resting at the base of the staircase. Trace amounts of scarlet puddled at the edge of several stairs, and a pool was spreading from underneath her mother’s head.
Stephanie had watched in morbid fascination, gradually leaning forward more and more until her father had heard the stairs creak. In a moment, he’d risen from his spot on the floor, red smeared across the knees of his jeans and etched into the groove lines on his palms. Stephanie eyed his hands curiously when he scooped her up to put her back to bed, eyes red-rimmed and voice gentle. The smell of iron strangled her senses.
Back in bed, her first Thoughts crystallized in the soft chill of that morning. Death was a taker, greedy and unforgiving. Death took coldly, silently, and permanently. Death was irreversible, and Stephanie thought that made it all the more beautiful.
Days later, shrouded in black, Stephanie watched with dry eyes as the maple wood casket was lowered into the ground, buried in her mother’s lovely garden. Having bloomed so eagerly at her deft green thumb, the cowslips and roses now bowed gently in the breeze as Stephanie’s mother was laid to rest beneath them. The rest of the cortège tittered and whispered behind closed palms and draped veils about how terrible it was for such a young girl to lose her mother. What a horrific accident; they couldn’t even imagine how Stephanie felt, how it must have been a shocking, immutable trauma for her.
Stephanie felt otherwise.
With her mother gone, Stephanie spent her time exploring the backyard garden, dancing through the flowerbeds. Her mother’s stewardship had cultivated it into a thriving ecosystem. Perfect for Stephanie to upend.
Beneath her feet, she crushed the daffodils and orchids, her blood thrumming beneath her skin, delighted by the exertion that came as proof of her destruction. Occasionally, she would stoop down, picking beetles off of the stems to crunch between her fingers and deftly ripping the wings off of any ladybugs she found. The garden wasn’t completely desecrated, though, as the saccharine aroma of dead flora wafted around the yard’s confines. She left enough untouched that her father would never notice, but took great delight in stamping out any new sprouts or plucking apart petals and leaves until whole stems were laid bare.
Her father never questioned her long-standing attachment to the garden. Better to let him assume she was there to mourn her mother, she supposed.
Sometimes, veiled by the fog of shadow and dreams, she saw a set of glinting fangs sinking into buttery flesh, tearing muscle and sinew away from gleaming white bone. She would always wake up hungry.
Through keen observation, though, she learned to stay quiet about her other desires, the ones that no one else could understand. The rest of the world was too soft. Too gentle. They would never understand how she saw the world, as something to pick apart with her bare hands until it was entirely hers to put back together.
When she was 10, she learned why this fragility existed. Her homeroom teacher taught them details about soulmates; you could never hurt your soulmate, and would share the same scars and injuries that they did. They warned against getting hurt; after all, who would want to hurt their fated one? Even more, they would carry the same scars as their soulmates, and who would want to risk blemishing themselves permanently? Scars were ugly, and undignified, and all things bad. Soulmates made everyone kinder, more compassionate, more empathetic. Synonyms for pathetic, Stephanie thought.
As Ms. Thorn rattled on and on about the scientific basis behind soulmates and soulmarks and bonds and ties, Stephanie only had eyes for the warnings and cautionary messages. She stared at her own skin, envisioning a patchwork of art etched into it. Scars didn’t sound ugly. No, far from it. She wanted to share something with her soulmate, and share she would. The first thing she did once she got home was to rush to the bathroom. She nimbly carved a loopy, cursive S into the meat of her forearm, watching on with sparkling eyes as blood dripped onto the pristine, white tiles of her bathroom floor.
A moment later, she felt her arm stinging, burning as a new laceration appeared in her arm.
+ E
Stephanie grinned wildly and washed her arm reverently, hissing as she applied some alcohol pads to the open wound. When her father came back from work, she had already cleaned up the mess, iron-stained toilet paper flushed into the sewage system, and a Disney princess band-aid plastered over the laceration. It would be inconspicuous under her sweatshirts and jackets, especially as the days got colder and colder. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her new mark tucked away under her pajamas.
Over the years, she developed an obsession with this new form of pain. Of bonding. Of seeing a piece of her soulmate inside herself and reaching in to carve it out. The tops of her thighs were soon covered with a latticework of flowers ranging from asphodels blooms and nightshade berries to spider lilies and rosemary sprigs. Death, poison, evil, danger. An ode to Death, to E, one in the same. Her skin was a constellation of warnings, disguised behind dainty petals and delicate bouquets.
When she was 16 years old, she finally got another response from E. It came in the form of a set of flames tattooed around her wrist, a small charity symbol resting above them. The colors faded gently into her skin, and she decided to invest in some quality foundation to keep her new secret hidden. Despite her enforced secrecy, she cherished the unknown symbol; this was E’s body, tied to hers, a physical sign of their shot at forever. Emboldened, Stephanie set back upon her skin with a sharp blade and a sharper idea.
E never got another tattoo, no matter how many flowers Stephanie embroidered on her thighs.
In senior year, Stephanie celebrated her graduation by etching a stalk of wolfsbane between her breasts and adding a small asphodel bloom behind her ear. The latter was done with a steady hand and between two mirrors, eyes locked onto the tip of the razor as it gently scored her skin.
That summer, she watched with wet eyes this time as her father was lowered to rest beneath that very same flowerbed, wedged beside her mother. The tears hadn’t come very easily, but she knew the rest of the cortège wouldn’t be as forgiving if she showed up to this procession emotionless too.
After speaking with a particularly pathetic relative, Stephanie felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, and turned to meet the eyes of a youthful mirror image of her father. He licked his lips, nearly predatory, like a lion did before pouncing on its prey, and she tilted her head curiously before flashing him a sharper grin, edged with a danger he couldn’t comprehend. He was smart enough to turn away and move out of her line of sight.
The smell of freshly-cut flowers breezed around the abandoned backyard as Stephanie set about cleaning up. The chairs had to be folded and stored away again, but she delighted in the thought of burning the ceremonial bouquets later that evening. A bonfire, she mused, a symbol used to cleanse, to purify. She would burn away the last memories of her old life and begin anew. As the sun began to set, she felt the same pair of eyes on her again and sighed.
“I know you’re still here,” she remarked drolly.
“Well, I certainly didn’t want to have to help with cleaning,” he joked.
She watched the same boy appear from around the corner of the house and stride up to her, a familiar smile etched onto his face. He stuck out his hand for a handshake and looked Stephanie up and down.
“Hey, I’m Chris.”
Stephanie grabbed him by the wrist and felt a dark part of herself pulse in tandem with the nervous flit of his eyes, the flutter of his heartbeat. She could eat him alive. Instead, she summoned a sunny smile and replied in a tone more bubbly than usual.
“I’m Stephanie. Were you here to pay respects? I’m sorry I don’t recognize you, but how did you know my dad?”
Chris shook his head slightly.
“I barely did. The guy wasn’t around. He was my dad, too.”
Stephanie’s gaze sharpened and she felt her mind reverberate with interest as she gasped softly.
“I didn’t know…” she trailed off, staring at Chris with fascination in her eyes.
Chris eyed her up consideringly, something flashing in his eyes as well. Stephanie wanted the power she knew she’d have over him. He was hers to take apart as she wanted, and she knew it as soon as she laid eyes on him. She played along obligingly, batting her eyelashes and letting her hip jut out at just the right angle. Men were too easy, boys even moreso. Who cared if he was her half-brother? She wanted to see him bend, bow, kneel for her. And he was willing to do just that.
It was in the garden, above the grave of their father, that he fell to the crushed soil and pulled her in for the first time, and Stephanie rode the high of her control with a sharp grin and bared teeth. This was a different type of taking, and she loved this kind too. She trembled in his grip as the phantom smell of pulverized flowers rose into the air again, forcing her violently over the edge. This was how she wanted to feel all the time. This was what she imagined Death felt when taking a life.
When she told Chris to take everything off, she ignored the lack of flowers adorning his skin. He was something to tide her over, and she knew he liked her like this. She could show bits and pieces of herself, more than she ever could with her father around. And she needed that sort of freedom, too.
Two years into the affair, Stephanie decided it was about time to get married. It was, after all, unseemly that she spent so much time alone with her half-brother, instead of with a boyfriend or husband. Chris didn’t take too much issue with it, ignoring her husband the majority of the time.
The wedding passed by breezily, with Stephanie hiding her markings from Davis whenever they were together. He was boring on a good day, and intolerable any other day. He wanted too much from her, and his only real selling point was his high-paying job. She took solace in Chris’ presence when she could, but he was beginning to get on her nerves, too. Somedays, he would see the darkness glinting in the depths of her eyes and try to shoo it away. He seemed to believe he could “fix her,” a fatal mistake she would make sure he paid for. Both men were beginning to outstay her patience.
She knew that soon she would have to do away with them. They were trying too hard, exerting too much control, believing her to be somebody she wasn’t. Chris had forgotten his place in Stephanie’s life and Stephanie wouldn’t stand for it.
The pregnancy only cemented their fates.
Sitting on the toilet and staring at the two dark lines, her world narrowed suddenly. Chris and Davis barely mattered at all anymore, and she knew she had a new priority, a singular light she would allow to shine in her life. There was no argument about who took precedence.
Once she announced the news, both Chris and Davis were overjoyed for her, happy to do anything she wanted from them. She brought up in nervous tones the idea of getting life insurances on all three of them. After all, this was serious now, and she wanted to ensure everything would be okay in the worst case scenario. Chris and Davis soothed her, both taking out separate policies and reassuring her that nothing would ever happen.
Stephanie let them dote on her in equal measure, helping her sit down, lie down, and even cook for her in the kitchen. Occasionally, this devolved into the men leveling threats against one another, and one time they even ended up squabbling around on the ground like children, but that was a non-issue for Stephanie. As long as they didn’t bring it around her, it wasn’t her problem. It would only help her plans down the line, and so she stayed far away from the commotion, only stepping in to add fuel to the fire.
She watched the tension build and build, relishing in the near-audible crackling emanating from the two men as she sat back and relaxed. They had tried to take too much from her, tried to control and cage her, so it was only fair for her to seek enjoyment in their misery before she took their lives.
The pregnancy took from her, sapping her strength and her nutrients, a direct reversal of everything she’d experienced before. A close call with Death, she mused. It was intoxicating, wielding Death in one hand and having Death lingering in the other. Every day, she became weaker, until one day she was rushed to the hospital with Chris and Davis panicking on either side. Not a moment after being shuttled into the ambulance, she fell unconscious.
Hours later, she crawled out of the deathlike slumber to a bundle of life in her arms. Her heart warmed at her little boy, Miles, a gift from God. Her God, Death. The room sprang to life as she commanded Chris and Davis with a soft voice. She wanted everything to be right when her little boy woke up and saw the world for the first time.
A bouquet of the loveliest asphodels and oleander was placed in the vase on her bedside table, followed by an immediate cleansing of every surface with some strong-smelling alcohol wipes. Stephanie breathed in and out, refreshed by the smell of dying flowers and killer ethanol. The sterile, white-walled hospital was perfect, and she held her breath as Miles began to stir.
When his Bambi brown eyes finally opened, Stephanie felt like all was finally right in the world. She finally had something to show for her efforts, physical proof of all that she’d suffered through. They both had a moment of peace and quiet as he found her eyes and reached out to her with a small, chubby hand. Then, the moment broke as Chris and Davis both erupted into tears at the sight of the newborn, fawning and fumbling, and Stephanie began to feel a headache brewing between her temples. Yes, they had finally overstayed her patience, and it was time for them to go.
That night, under the pretense of a celebratory drink, she plied both men with the strongest alcohol she could find, waiting until they completely blacked out to return upstairs. She herself sipped at water disguised as vodka, twirling the glasses between her fingers as she watched Chris and Davis fall further and further under the influence. She could have a little more patience, she supposed. If it was just her, she would’ve ripped them apart, sinew and flesh, crushed their bones to dust like those beetles and ladybugs she had once ravaged between her fingers. But it wasn’t just her anymore. Her little Death, Miles, was her priority now, and he slumbered away upstairs as she plotted the demise of both of his fathers.
The next morning, Stephanie rose before dawn. She spent about half an hour in the bathroom practicing how to cry when the police gave her the death notice before she was satisfied. Chris and Davis didn’t even stir as she headed downstairs and started on breakfast. She made sure to dose the food heavily with some of the leftover oleander from the hospital bouquet, sampling a bite of everything before she added the crushed leaves.
She even went out to the garden to unearth one of the pink blooms, ensuring the roots remained intact. When she returned to the kitchen, she filled a bowl with water and swirled the roots in the liquid to shake the dirt loose. She looked down at the browning water and sighed softly. It seemed that this phase of her life was over, too. She would be moving on to the next, taking on a new personality, a new home, a new normal. The sun rose slowly in the sky as she stood at the kitchen counter staring out the window. The dark navy lightened, cotton candy pink spilling over into the clouds as dawn approached.
Once the oleander roots were adequately cleaned, she chopped them off, dicing them into little rounds to sprinkle on top of the finished omelette along with some green onions, garnishing her breakfast of death.
The men woke with heavy tongues and heavier brows, frustrated at their lack of memories from the night before. Stephanie surprised both of them with breakfast, plating up bacon, omelettes, and buttered toast. A little wake-me-up after a rough night. Both Chris and Davis looked up at her lovingly, adoringly, only to catch each other’s drifting eyes and frown. Davis had always suspected something , but never like this, never so blatant.
Stephanie drifted away, pressing a parting kiss to Chris’ cheek, mumbling something about going upstairs to change Miles’ diaper and feed him. She grinned to herself as she heard the cogs grinding in Davis’ head. She would leave them to deal with it.
After singing Miles back to sleep, Stephanie headed back downstairs towards the growing sound of disgruntled voices. They buzzed like a set of angry wasps, occasionally lowering to a hushed rumble and pitching up into angry roars at other times. Stephanie waited around the corner, working up the desperation she needed as she listened to Chris and Davis fighting. As they began to eke towards an all-out shouting match, Stephanie walked back into the kitchen, frantic and near tears.
“Davis, Chris, please. Please don’t do this here. Miles needs his rest and I… please. I don’t know what to do. I want both of you to be happy.”
Chris’ brow smoothed over as he reached for her hands, only to be met by Davis’ body, shunted in between them.
“We can go for a drive,” he rumbled out, glaring down at Chris.
Stephanie made sure to let the worry knit her brows together as she looked up at both men.
Chris straightened up and let his features harden again, glaring right back at Davis.
“Yeah, let’s.”
Stephanie listened to their thudding footfalls travel to the front door, only to be followed with the dull thump of the door opening and closing. She sighed, pleased with her efforts. The oleander would kick in at about the right time, hopefully slow their reaction times enough for the real accident to happen.
She spent the rest of afternoon tending to Miles, waking him up from his short morning nap to bring him down to the living room. He had giggled high and loud when she’d blown a raspberry on his tummy, little baby hands flailing around. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, and she murmured that mantra to him while holding him in her arms. After another feeding session, she’d only just managed to put him down for a nap when the doorbell rang.
Stephanie padded downstairs, still wearing a splotchy green sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants, and the only pair of silly socks she owned. She felt unusually anxious, waiting for what laid on the other side of the front door. Maybe they’d survived. Maybe she would be sent to prison. Maybe—
No. None of that would happen. She couldn’t allow it. She had planned everything so carefully, sparked all the right fuses, added fuel to the fire, pushed them both over the edge. It would work.
Twisting the doorknob, Stephanie was met with the solemn expressions of two police officers.
“Are you Stephanie Smothers?” one of the officers questioned.
She quickly switched to a concerned expression, hands fidgeting slightly.
“Um, yes. How can I help you, officers?”
She watched as the two men took their caps off respectfully and eyed the ground.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your brother and husband were in a car accident right outside exit 64 on the freeway. They were declared dead by the EMTs on-scene. It was…”
Stephanie tuned out the rest of their words and felt her legs give way beneath her. The world blurred alarmingly fast around her as the tears came. A visceral wail wrenched its way out of her throat as she collapsed onto her knees. The police officers reached down to help her up, escorting Stephanie to her couch so that she could sit down. She heard the faint crackling buzz of the officers speaking through the radio, mumbling gibberish that she couldn’t be bothered to decipher.
The tears were more genuine than she expected. She was relieved, so utterly relieved, that they were finally gone. It had been too long since she’d last felt in control of her own life, and the sour aftertaste of being told what to do and who to be was finally cleansed away once and for all. But, in some way, she wished it hadn’t happened like this. It was hard not to feel emotional, having lived with Chris and Davis for so long. Now, though, with only Miles in her life and her whole future ahead of her, Stephanie could breathe freely again.
She spent most of her time at the joint funeral teary-eyed and sniffling. It was enough to keep her unbothered by the neighbors, and it appeased everyone’s curiosities too. Her only remaining family had been taken from her in the most gruesome, untimely manner anyone could imagine. It was only natural that she would be devastated.
The neighborhood gave their condolences to Stephanie, wishing her well when she tremulously explained that she would be leaving, bottom lip trembling to herald a new wave of tears. Her neighbors nodded along understandingly, empathetically, and Stephanie cried and cried and cried.
Traveling was an easy task, especially once she’d finalized all the paperwork for the estate and received all the life insurance funds. After bundling Miles into his new car seat and ordering a moving van for the rest of their home’s inventory, they were off, heading towards the rising sun.
It was only once they’d stopped at a gas station to refuel that Stephanie realized it had been ages since she’d last celebrated a milestone like this. She hadn’t gotten anything from E in ages, but that hadn’t stopped her from adding her own marks to the constellation of scars sweeping across her limbs. This milestone, a beginning to her new life, seemed like a good time to start up again, as she walked into the bathroom with a roll of bandages and a small razor, so sharp she would barely feel it. She placed Miles down on the small changing station table, still tucked inside the warm blanket he’d fallen asleep in while they were rolling along the smooth highways.
She turned to the mirror and stripped down, leaving her clothes in a pile next to Miles. She pressed a soft kiss to his head of curls before leaning toward the mirror to begin scoring the tiny flower. This time, it was a tiny white lily bloom, for Miles, that joined her stalk of wolfsbane. The lily petals arched and curled to circle the top of her right breast. By the time she was done, she was thoroughly exhausted by the effort of adding so many details. Having tattoos done would be much easier, but they wouldn’t carry the same level of intimacy that her personal handiwork did.
With her skin open and raw, she carefully wiped away any remaining blood with a damp palm, letting the smears on her hand swirl down into the sink to tint the water a lovely shade of sunrise pink. It was the same shade as the sky had been earlier this morning, when she’d first turned onto the freeway. A thin swathe of pink slipping across the sky.
The splashing of water into the ceramic sink bowl recaptured her attention and she turned the faucet counterclockwise, stoppering the flow. She pressed a dry bandage onto the raw skin and bound it horizontally, the bandage coming around and just above her breasts to be layered. Once the gauze was tightly wound and taped in place, Stephanie rolled her shoulders, sighing with relief as the joints relaxed. A thin spot of pink could be seen through the bandaging, but she didn’t expect it to darken any further.
She redressed quickly, satisfied with her efforts once she was back behind the wheel and Miles was safely buckled again. The sun was peeking over the horizon by now, and she watched its slow ascent as they drove onward. Death poked its long fingers from over the mountaintops, ever-watchful of Stephanie, peering between dead leaves or through the milky eyes of various roadkill carcasses dotting the shoulder of the road.
Warfield, Connecticut was an easy town to settle into. Stephanie found herself adopting a softer personality, all sweet smiles and stuttering sentences as she introduced herself around the neighborhood and ingratiated herself with the other parents. She even decided to start a DIY vlog in order to do something with her free time, other than baking and cooking. The life insurance money she’d gotten from both Chris and Davis had left her in a good spot, and she wouldn’t need to be too concerned about her financial situation anytime soon.
The next few years passed easily enough, with Stephanie raising Miles alone. The neighborhood only knew what she deemed was necessary to tell. Her husband had passed away in a terrible accident, and the grief was all-consuming, so much so that she just had to move away, her baby boy only a few months old.
The townsfolk were sympathetic, compassionate, and understanding, all the things Stephanie hated. But Miles would have a good upbringing here, and she knew he would be comfortable, accepted and adored by his peers. That was enough for her, even if she never would’ve even given the townsfolk a second glance had Miles not been in the picture. His happiness was enough. Miles grew into an energetic young boy, sarcastic at times, but purer than Stephanie had ever been. Had ever known, even.
When he started school, Stephanie was hesitant to let him go, concern leaking into her voice as she wished him a good first day. He came back bouncing off the walls, exuberant in light of his new friends. Her prediction had been all too correct; Miles was a big hit at school, and soon he even had a best friend, as she learned through garbled mouth-full-of-PB&J chatter, called Nicky Townsend.
Every time Stephanie picked him up, Miles would come running out with the little boy. He had a nice enough dad, according to Miles, but his mom had never picked him up. Nicky raved about his mom, though, constantly talking about how cool and funny she was, and Miles was, by proxy, an equally big fan of the unseen figure.
Here, in Warfield, Stephanie was content. She had everything she could ever need, but she could never truly be satisfied with a mystery sitting at her fingertips, waiting to be unraveled. She may have had her creature comforts, but she had her intellect and curiosity, too.
It didn’t take long for Stephanie to find out that Nicky’s mom was called Emily. Emily Nelson. According to the grapevine of other moms, Emily was some hotshot who worked at a fashion company and never made time for Nicky. Stephanie couldn’t find anything about her online, no matter how hard she dug, so she settled, disgruntled, for keeping her ear to the ground.
In the end, it wasn’t with her ear to the ground that she found out more about Emily Nelson. Instead, she was tucked under the hood of her yellow raincoat when Emily strode into her life. Standing at the entrance of Warfield Elementary waiting for Miles, Stephanie’s world suddenly turned two-dimensional, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Every muscle in her body tensed all at once, pushing her to turn around.
With fat droplets of water dripping from her umbrella, Emily Nelson stepped out of a black Mercedes-Benz, dressed head to toe in black and white, business formal, her eyes obscured from view behind the rim of the black umbrella. Stephanie watched, dazed, as Emily Nelson marched through the raindrops and puddles like she was on the red carpet instead of an elementary school crosswalk.
No one had ever held her attention like Emily Nelson; Stephanie couldn’t seem to avert her eyes. She could see that this woman could make the whole world fall to its knees and quake if she just tried hard enough, but Stephanie wanted to see Emily kneel for Stephanie .
Without quite understanding how it all happened, Stephanie was talked into spending an afternoon at Emily’s home, Miles and Nicky cheering and high-fiving as they prepared to have the playdate of all playdates. Stephanie drove mostly on autopilot, following behind the black Benz until she pulled into a sleek, minimalistic driveway. Miles and Nicky stomped away upstairs, with Stephanie calling after Miles to make sure he knew to be on his best behavior. Be good, smooch!
And then all of sudden, she was alone with Emily. She towered over Stephanie, a difference made even more blatant since Emily had on four-inch killer heels. She breezed about the room wordlessly, sweeping into the kitchen. Stephanie heard the fridge door open and shut before the sound of ice and liquid floated around the corner into the living room. The noise was enough to unfreeze her, and she followed Emily to the island.
“So,” Emily’s voice was low and amused. “Looks like our sons are pretty great friends, huh?”
Stephanie stuttered through some nonsense response, eyes locked on the edge of Emily’s jawline. She was all sharp edges and corners on the outside, and Stephanie could see how that might be intimidating. To anyone else.
She was about to open her mouth to speak again, when Emily suddenly turned her head to the side to grab the shaker. In that moment, Stephanie felt like she’d been slapped across the face. Emily’s mild conversation dulled into nothingness as Stephanie’s vision tunneled. There, tucked behind Emily’s ear, was the raw outline of an asphodel. Stephanie reached up to her own neck and caressed the scar carefully, eyes still locked onto the patch of skin covered partially by Emily’s baby hairs.
Emily was meant to be hers, and Stephanie knew it with certainty now. Fascination wracked Stephanie’s entire being, but she managed to contain herself. Emily probably wouldn’t take well to being interrogated during their first meeting. Instead, she played it safe, putting up a front that Emily would never bother to see past.
“I’m uh, Stephanie, by the way,” she stuttered.
Emily chuckled, her voice gravelly as she turned back around to stare at Stephanie. She swirled the cocktail glass around between two fingers as she sized Stephanie up.
“Hey ‘uh Stephanie’, you drink?”
Emily raised the glass to her lips, downing its contents before smacking her lips together.
Stephanie watched the way Emily’s tongue poked out to gather any remaining droplets of gin and shook her head soundlessly. The memory of the asphodel blinded her again as she looked away from Emily. Emily mistook her actions for apprehension and continued her line of questioning with a little less sarcasm imbued in her tone.
“So, why’d you come with me?”
Mind still reeling from the information that Emily was her soulmate, Stephanie was thrown off balance as Emily’s voice broke through her whirling thoughts. She responded more instinctively than she would’ve liked, voice acerbic.
“Weren’t you the one who invited me?” she snarked before she froze, the cogs in her head turning as her words caught up with her brain.
Emily’s eyes widened dramatically as she eyed Stephanie again, taking in the way her hands hadn’t fidgeted in over 10 minutes, the way her posture was confidence, chin held high. Stephanie looked like the picture of regality, nothing like the tame mommy vlogger she had pretended to me.
“Kitty’s got claws,” Emily remarked.
That asphodel. That damned asphodel.
Stephanie couldn’t seem to help herself. Emily had already seen the beginnings of who she really was, and Stephanie knew she wasn’t stupid. If she could handle that, how much more could she handle? Overtaken by boldness, Stephanie felt the desire to show Emily more and more and more.
She grinned, a little wider than mousy little Stephanie Smothers should’ve been able to muster up. Her eyes sparkled with a depth that no one had ever been able to pinpoint. This dark hunger inside her, the power she wielded, the pain she treasured so deeply, it was all there, if only Emily was clever enough to decipher it. To pick it apart, dissect it, and hang it up for all to see. Stephanie wanted to see herself taken apart in Emily’s eyes and put back together again in her mind.
Emily explored her new expression with an intense, focused interest, gaze darting about her face until they locked with hers.
“Stephanie Smothers,” she murmured, as their giggling sons tumbled back downstairs, “We may just have to arrange another playdate.”
When Emily waved goodbye to Stephanie from the doorway of her home, Stephanie turned her neck slightly, tapping the spot just behind her ear. She watched gleefully as Emily’s eyes widened with further shock. Before Emily could ask any questions, she backed out of the driveway, blowing her a playful kiss. She would never get sick of seeing the surprise on Emily’s face, knowing that she had been the one to pull the rug out from underneath her feet.
The following week, Emily dropped by the daycare yet again, this time with no umbrella, dressed head to toe in a blindingly handsome pantsuit. After bundling Miles and Nicky into her car, she’d winked at Stephanie and crooked a single finger. Come with me , she had mouthed, and that was that.
This time with significantly fewer frazzled neurons overwhelming her senses, Stephanie agreed and slid into the driver’s seat of her own car. As she followed behind the Benz, she took the chance to note the landmarks along the path that took her to Emily’s home; they passed by the stables down the road, skirted the small square with the CVS and Trader Joes, and after a few more turns down more and more unfamiliar roads, Stephanie pulled into the same, sleek driveway.
Deja vu washed over her as the boys rushed upstairs yet again, the door slamming behind them as they set off to build another lego tower, taller than the last, according to Miles’ excited rambling the last time they’d left. Emily disappeared into the kitchen yet again and left Stephanie in the entrance hall alone with her thoughts.
Stephanie glanced around with keen eyes, making note of the bland walls and minimalist decorations. This house didn’t look like a home; there was no life to it, no personalization. Everything was oddly sterile, hospital-esque, even. She could feel Death lurking at the edges of the window frames, sinking its teeth into the cool white paint and gnawing with a vengeance. She hoped Nicky’s room was a little bit cozier than the rest of the house, even if just for the benefit of the young boy.
Too exhausted to attempt to psychoanalyze Emily’s home decor choices, Stephanie decided to follow the other woman, stepping out of her heels and sighing softly when her feet met the floor. It was a habit she had ingrained in her daily motions, and she intended on keeping what was one of very few good habits.
As she strode down the hallway, she considered the upcoming playdate. She could be more genuine, she supposed, especially since Emily had already seen the glint of her claws, and hadn’t run screaming for the hills. She walked more gracefully into the kitchen than Stephanie Smothers should have, and saw Emily shift in the corner of her eye.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Emily remarked from across the island.
“Didn’t ask you to,” Stephanie retorted easily, reaching for her pristine, martini-filled glass to take a delicate sip.
Emily moved to the couch and settled onto the cushions, shoes still on as she leaned back. Her elegant pantsuit remained unwrinkled. It was gray and striped, her blazer thrown over her shoulder and exposing the eggshell-white button-up and expensive-looking tie she had on underneath. She rested one ankle on the knee of the other leg, waiting for Stephanie to join her.
Stephanie flounced over and settled in a puff of chiffon, her floral dress splaying out around her. Emily was taller than Stephanie, even while seated, but Stephanie knew that they were on even playing fields here.
“Sooo,” Stephanie started. “Where’d you get that?”
She pointed casually at Emily’s neck and then set the martini glass down, resting her elbow on the couch cushions.
Emily raised a singular eyebrow and took another drink from her glass.
“Get what?”
Stephanie hummed noncommittally. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Emily.”
“What are you talking about?” Emily continued to question, tilting her head to the side and allowing the asphodel to catch the fading sunlight beautifully.
Stephanie reached over this time, turning her entire body and shifting closer to press her hand against Emily’s neck and brush softly against the scar.
“What do you think I’m talking about?” she murmured lowly, staring into Emily’s eyes and relishing in the brief flash of lust that surfaced from the depths.
Emily, to her credit, didn’t let the moment last.
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about, baby,” she crooned, grasping Stephanie’s wrist in a firm hand and twining their fingers together.
Stephanie smirked, intent on chasing down this lead to the very end.
“Oh, I think I do, E.”
She wrested her hand free and turned her own head to the side, the dying rays from the sun glowing softly against her skin as she brushed her own hair aside. A matching bloom revealed to Emily’s eye, etched into Stephanie’s skin.
“You.”
“Me.” Stephanie batted her eyelashes and chortled as she sat back in place.
Emily’s gaze immediately sharpened, suspicious.
“That the only one?”
“You know it isn’t, E,” Stephanie teased. “But that’s a bit forward of you, isn’t it? What are you gonna do, strip me down to check for the rest?”
Emily grinned darkly and leaned forward, hand on Stephanie’s forearm, eyes zeroed in on Stephanie’s mouth.
“Would you stop me if I did?”
Stephanie breathed in, her arm tingling at the newfound warmth from Emily’s palm. She exhaled shakily and marveled at Emily’s obliviousness, how she didn’t realize the power she had over Stephanie.
“You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”
But Emily’s eyes weren’t on her lips anymore, having dipped down to stare incredulously at the inside of Stephanie’s forearm. The white, blotchy skin gave her the only answer she needed.
“It really is you,” she muttered.
“S and E,” Stephanie echoed. “How come you never responded again?”
Emily huffed self-deprecatingly. “After the first time, I got caught. I was taught that soulmates don’t mean shit when you’re from a family of broke bastards. Money always matters more.”
Stephanie didn’t ask about the tattoo, still concealed immaculately beneath a layer of foundation. Instead, she eyed Emily curiously and allowed her eyes to flit around the giant living room.
“You don’t seem to be having an issue with that now.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving, Stephanie ,” Emily leveled a stare at her.
Stephanie shrugged carelessly and reached for her martini again.
“Not my fault people make assumptions they don’t have any right to.”
Emily laughed loudly, startling both of them.
“Don’t have any right to, huh? I bet I could clock you anyway; let me guess, stable life, easy husband, and sweet kid.”
Stephanie couldn’t even begin to explain why she felt her competitive streak roar to life, determined to prove Emily wrong.
“Dead mom, dead dad, and a kid who isn’t even my husband’s.”
Emily quirked her other eyebrow this time, eyes flashing with interest.
“Whose?”
Stephanie smirked coyly and leaned back.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh come on, you can’t just say that and not tell me,” Emily groused.
“And what would I even get in return for telling you?” Stephanie bartered.
“Sean was a famous author. He’s failing now. We can’t sell the house because we bought it at an all-time peak in the housing market. We’re going into debt,” Emily relayed with dead eyes and a slight frown. “Now, who’d you fuck?”
Stephanie shrugged. “My half-brother.”
Emily’s eyes shimmered again. “Oh, you nasty bitch. Which side of the family?”
“Dad’s. He showed up to the funeral.” Stephanie’s lips curl upwards as she remembers that day. “At least the ceremony was good for something.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dad?” Stephanie frowned. “He’s dead.”
“No, I meant your brother,” Emily huffed.
“Oh, he’s dead too.”
Emily threw her head back and cackled, loud and unrestrained. She looked exquisite. Stephanie basked in the glow of Emily’s confidence and felt the darkness of greed crackling underneath her own skin. She wanted to harness that power, that energy. She wanted Emily.
“And your husband?”
“Also dead.”
Emily grinned at Stephanie.
“Seems odd to me that all the men in your life have an awful habit of dying.”
Stephanie ignored the underlying jab and sighed.
“Men, am I right?”
“Can’t live with them… that’s it,” Emily agreed, eyes sparkling.
They didn’t stop sparkling when she leaned in to press her lips against Stephanie’s.
“You… are exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life,” she rasped, fingers still tangled in Stephanie’s hair and nails scratching lightly against her scalp.
Stephanie grinned widely, still a little drunk on the feeling of Emily’s tongue in her mouth, of tasting lemon twists and florals. Emily tasted of Death, and she was delicious.
“You found me.”
Dinner was more entertaining than Stephanie expected. After copious pleading from Miles, Nicky, and Emily, they ordered cheese and pepperoni pizza, which was promptly inhaled once the delivery driver had left with his tip. Stephanie had a single slice of cheese pizza, nibbling at it delicately as the boys (and Emily) shoveled several slices into their mouths.
8:39 P.M. found Miles and Nicky sitting on the carpet in the living room, eyes glued to the television set. Sean had called home an hour ago stating that he wouldn’t be coming back over the weekend, tied up in something he had to do for the university.
Stephanie had expressed a minor condolence when Emily had relayed the news to her. It hadn’t been too difficult to arrange something to happen. She could smell the stench of an affair on him before he’d even met her, and it was all too simple to call the university and relay a minor tidbit about how oh-so-concerned she was for a friend in Professor Townsend’s class and would they just check that everything was okay? Nothing too extreme, of course, since he still needed a job to support Emily; though, how much he really did that was still up for debate.
Regardless, it left the rest of the weekend free for Stephanie and Emily. She knew she’d have to wake up early tomorrow and film a handful of mommy vlogs before the rest of the house woke up, but it wasn’t too much of a concern for her, especially given that she had several finished videos waiting to be queued if she couldn’t find the time to film new ones.
For now, though, her feet were tucked underneath herself as she leaned against Emily, a blanket thrown over both of them. Emily was warmer than Chris or Davis had ever been, and Stephanie greedily stole it from her, her fingers turning from a pale blue to a rosy pink after enough prolonged contact.
She’d always run colder than the average person. In sixth grade, she’d woken to her father shaking her awake because he’d thought she’d died in her sleep, skin a muted shade of cerulean. Staying warm was a creature comfort she valued above all else; plus, Emily never really seemed to run out of things to give, and Stephanie was never one to shy away from taking. How could she resist, when all of it was offered to her on a silver platter?
The boys were fast asleep together under a newly-constructed pillow fort by 10:00, and, not wanting to disturb them from their cozy little hidey-hole, Emily and Stephanie went upstairs alone. They’d both anticipated an outcome like this, and had ensured Miles and Nicky brushed their teeth right after finishing dinner to avoid having to wake them up again once the movie was over.
Standing in the furnished restroom together felt unobtrusively domestic. Stephanie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this comfortable, or been this genuine. Emily knew too much, and had the potential to be dangerous if this continued on. Yet, Stephanie couldn’t stop. Emily had looked her in the eye, seen Death, and stayed. She’d seen Stephanie’s darkness and, other than some preliminary (understandable) shock, had accepted it easily.
That night, after curling up with Emily’s hand resting on her hip, Stephanie couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Emily’s gentle puffs of breath finally began to lull her into a shallow slumber, and the last thing Stephanie’s racing mind thought up before she fell asleep echoed in her dreams.
What was Emily hiding?
Stephanie awoke to the smell of smoke.
Leaping out of bed, she nearly fell down the staircase as she rushed into the kitchen, only to be met with three guilty faces.
“We didn’t mean to wake you up,” Nicky muttered.
“Sorry, mom,” Miles echoed.
Emily tried not to wince.
“We tried to make you breakfast in bed. You know. Just because,” she explained.
Nicky and Miles nodded along eagerly.
“Yeah, mom says that we make breakfast in bed for the people we really care about,” Nicky piped up.
Stephanie watched with her arms folded across her chest, well-aware of the strangeness of the situation; she was nearly a foot shorter than Emily, yet Emily was the one who seemed to shrink underneath her gaze, the tips of her ears turning bright red.
“Is that so?” Stephanie questioned, raising a single eyebrow.
“We didn’t mean to wake you up,” Nicky reiterated. “It was mom’s idea!”
He and Miles scampered off into the living room, giggling and shushing each other as they disappeared around the corner.
Emily scratched her neck sheepishly, only to realize her own ridiculousness and stand up a little straighter.
“I… how do you even do that?”
Stephanie grinned up at her.
“It’s a mom glare. I’m a mom. It’s very effective.”
She lifted up onto her tiptoes and pressed a silencing kiss to Emily’s lips when the other woman began to grumble about “unfair” and “I’m a mom too, how come Nicky never listens to me.”
“Let me. I’m sure I’ll be able to salvage whatever you were…” The rest of her sentence died away as she stared at the charred, blackened mess that Emily had been working on.
“On the other hand, I’m sure I have better ideas for breakfast anyway,” Stephanie nodded firmly, dumping the contents of the smoking pan into the trash.
Emily sighed heavily, a mix of relief and embarrassment.
They propped open a few windows in the house and the smoke was soon cleared away, the fresh smell of rain replacing it. The clouds were thundering again outside, and it didn’t look very likely that it would clear up anytime soon.
As Stephanie busied herself about the kitchen, she was surprised when a pair of hands descended on her waist, Emily’s chin landing on her shoulder a moment later. Stephanie nearly broke off the fridge handle when Emily pressed her mouth to the asphodel scar, leaving a wet kiss against the skin.
“That was my way of saying thank you,” she murmured lowly.
Stephanie, who had never been so affected by anyone in her life, exhaled sharply through her nose in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
“Go set the table,” she nearly barked, finally wrenching the godforsaken fridge door open to grab a few eggs.
Emily scrambled off with a playful salute, leaving Stephanie to make breakfast in peace.
That evening found the boys falling asleep yet again in their fortified pillow fort. This time, though, Emily didn’t lead Stephanie upstairs to the master bedroom. Instead, after some nudging, Emily had Stephanie slip into her heels again and wobble tiredly out to the car. After helping Stephanie into the passenger side, Emily slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the house.
“Where are we going?” Stephanie questioned blearily. She knew Miles was safe and sound, asleep. He would be okay.
“It’s a surprise, baby,” Emily grinned and sped down the road.
Fifteen minutes later found Stephanie sitting in a tattoo parlor as Emily discussed options with the artist. The two women finally agreed on a purple Jimsonweed flower.
“To match the rest of your bouquet of death,” Emily had remarked.
Stephanie had felt her heart pound a little louder in her chest in response.
Emily explained that it would be a matching tattoo. Two halves of a whole. One half each done on the back, right below where a shirt collar would rest. A small, poisonous, purple bloom nestled in between her shoulder blades.
Stephanie felt her scars tingle with a sense of kinship as the tattoo artist lowered the needle to her skin. The pain was comforting, grounding, an anchor she hadn’t realized she’d needed. Emily stood beside her, watching as the tattoo took on shape and then color. It was all over quite quickly. Half an hour later, she was standing at the mirror with Emily holding a handheld to show it to her. A perfect half of the beautiful flower. Then, it was Emily’s turn.
Stephanie watched with keen eyes as blood beaded up everywhere the needles dipped below Emily’s fragile skin barrier. Ink swirled with the crimson droplets until the artist wiped everything away, occasionally leaving a smear of pink on Emily’s skin. Once the lines were complete, the artist wiped the tattoo thoroughly and then began to add shades of purple and white, letting Emily’s skin soak up the colors. With magenta beading out of her pores, Emily looked exquisite.
The sting of the tattoo gun resonated on her own back as she stood there. It was a lighter sting than the actual tattoo had been, but it kept Stephanie in the moment with Emily, drawn back to her again and again like a tide to the shore.
In no time at all, she watched as the tattoo artist placed down the final details before wiping Emily’s skin clean again. Both tattoos were carefully cleaned again and then wrapped, with the artist giving detailed instructions on how to take care of them. Stephanie looked at Emily’s bare back again and sighed. A matching set. A pair. Tidally locked for all eternity.
The sky glittered, not a cloud in sight as they walked back out to Emily’s car. With the rest of the town asleep, the lack of lights made the latticework of burning stars glow ever-brighter. Underneath the light of the moon, Emily reached out for the passenger side door and pulled it open, an easy grin splashed across her face as she gestured for Stephanie to get in. Stephanie looked at Emily in that moment, lit with blue and white, her grin softened by languor, hair glowing platinum. She looked like how Stephanie imagined death would, gleaming white bone, the pale blue tinge of hypoxia, ever-graceful. Everything coalesced in that one moment, a sudden, clear thought emerging at the forefront of Stephanie’s mind.
She wanted Emily all to herself. Emily was hers and hers only, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less.
The rest of the weekend passed by in a blur. Sunday was much the same as Saturday, with Stephanie taking a moment to post some leftover vlogs to her page before settling in to make breakfast for the other three slumbering upstairs. The day was spent outside, with the two boys getting some much-needed fresh air by prancing around in a local park as Stephanie and Emily took a walk on a path through a small forest. They spent most of the walk with Emily pinning Stephanie against a tree, tongue down her throat for so long that Stephanie’s lips turned blue. She wished she could’ve seen it for herself, but seeing the satisfied smirk on Emily’s face was more than enough.
It seemed that by the time they managed to look away from one another, the sun was already setting. Amber yellow and wine red leaked through the edge of the blue sky, starting West and spreading outwards. Pink dotted the fluffy clouds, and Stephanie thought she saw purple by the time the boys were bundled into the Benz and they were on the way back home.
Home. Emily’s home. Emily and Sean’s home.
Something lurking in some dark corner inside of her reared back and lashed out, coiling menacingly and spitting venom at the thought of Sean and Emily together. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how things were supposed to be. But, Stephanie was nothing if not intelligent, and she knew she would get her way sooner or later. Things just had to be planned out carefully before she set them in motion.
With the weekend drawing to a close, Emily and Nicky brought Stephanie and Miles back to the house to gather all their things. In the blink of an eye, Stephanie was pulling out of the driveway and waving at Emily, who seemed content to lean against the doorway, lips still a little swollen from their forest walk.
Stephanie smirked at the memory, and as she rolled down the street, she vowed to never again let go of Emily Nelson. It wouldn’t be easy, but Stephanie did always enjoy a good challenge.
In the end, she never even got the chance to begin planning. When Stephanie texted Emily about a playdate again, she was instead met with a different request.
Could you take Nicky for the weekend, actually? Sean has some work business in London and I have a meeting I have to be away at for the weekend.
Sure! I’m sorry something came up, rain check for the playdate then?
Baby, what have I said about using that phrase? It’s taboo.
Let’s rain check xx
Stephanie huffed, bemused. Emily had begun her quest of getting Stephanie to stop apologizing. She’d never succeed; Stephanie knew the power of a good apology, even if it was insincere. Sometimes, I’m sorry was all anyone needed to hear for her to get her way.
On Friday, Nicky was practically jumping out of his skin at the prospect of another long weekend with Miles, this time at a different house! Stephanie had ruffled Miles’ hair, given him a soft kiss on the forehead, and let him run off into his room with Nicky to play with whatever he wanted. She settled down in front of the TV for a movie and a glass of wine, half her attention on the movie—some rom-com starring Sandra Bullock and that Ryan guy—and the other half keeping track of the sun’s progress across the sky.
Once the sky began to lose its aquamarine shimmer, she called the boys down, pausing the movie on the awkward kiss to ask them if they wanted pizza for dinner again. She walked into the kitchen briefly to set aside her wine glass as they thundered down into the living room. As she rounded the corner back into the living room, she heard Nicky and Miles conversing about the paused, on-screen screen.
“You know, I don’t see my mom and dad doing that a lot,” Nicky observed off-handedly.
“Your mom and my mom do that sometimes, though,” Miles replied.
Nicky nodded agreeably and shrugged.
“I think you’re supposed to do that with someone you really like.”
Stephanie stepped in before anything else could be exchanged between the two boys.
“That’s right, boys. With someone special, though. You shouldn’t be trying anything like that just yet, okay?” She felt her heart beat a little faster when they stared up at her, confused.
“So my mom is really special to you?” Nicky asked.
Stephanie nodded quickly, before hastily amending her answer.
“We’re really extra close best friends.”
Nicky and Miles looked at each other and then at her again.
“But Nicky and I are really close best friends, too. Should we be doing that?” He looked up at her curiously.
Stephanie felt her heart stutter to a stop for a moment and her face paled before she managed to improvise a response.
“It’s something that grown-ups do to show each other they’re special, got it? You boys can do lots of other things, like hug, or shake hands, or high five, or play games! Adults don’t get a chance to do some of those things, so they do that instead.”
Nicky and Miles nodded.
“Okay, that makes sense. I would be sad if I couldn’t play legos, too,” he agreed.
Stephanie let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s right. Now, do you boys want pizza for dinner again?”
With the subject fully pushed out of their minds now, they both nodded eagerly, requesting to get a meat lover’s pizza this time. She, in return, made them promise they would brush their teeth right after dinner. After receiving a pair of vigorous head nods, let them get back to playing. She knew children’s curiosities were satisfied easily enough as long as she provided a reasonable enough answer. Tomorrow, they would have completely forgotten about the conversation surrounding Stephanie and Emily’s kiss.
Dinner passed without incident and the boys were soon tucked away in bed, asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.
Stephanie let herself stay up a little longer, filming a quick vlog to get her mind off of the day’s events. She shot Emily a quick text to let her know that Nicky was settling in just fine, and to wish her safe travels for her meeting. She added a picture they’d taken earlier during dinner, the two boys smiling to the left of her, tomato sauce on their chins.
The messages delivered quietly and she turned her phone off. Emily would text her back in the morning, she was sure of it. Tomorrow, Stephanie could begin planning a way out. Away from Warfield, away from Sean, away from this life.
The next morning found no text back from Emily, and Stephanie felt a sense of unease brewing in the pit of her stomach. She always trusted her instincts, and her instincts were telling her that something wasn’t right.
She made the boys a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon, and some cereal they had in the pantry. They were happy enough to scamper around the backyard and run around chasing ladybugs and dragonflies, a purer iteration of her childhood garden adventures.
As soon as the sliding door was closed, she dialed Sean’s phone number.
“Hey, Stephanie? What’s wrong?”
“Nicky’s okay. We’re all good over here, I was just wondering if you’d, um, heard from Emily?”
Sean hummed loudly through the phone and Stephanie winced away from the noise. Men.
“Well, no, but she doesn’t usually text me anyway,” he remarked. “Especially when I’m away.”
“Okay, thanks! I also wanted to check in and let you know that Nicky’s having a great time so far. He’s just out with Miles in the backyard right now. Chasing down bugs, I think,” she giggled before shifting her gaze to peek out at the two boys.
“Great. Thanks for this, by the way. I haven’t been able to do much for him…” Sean trailed off, seeming dejected, and Stephanie quickly cut in before he could start a longer conversation she had no interest in entertaining.
“Oh it’s not a problem at all! Miles loves having him around. Speaking of, I think I better get back to them. Thanks for talking with me, Sean! I just worry sometimes, you know.” She let herself ramble on a little bit before thanking Sean again.
“Anyway, thanks again. I’ll keep in touch for sure! Buh-bye!”
Sean responded with a muffled affirmation and Stephanie hit the end call button.
She took the boys out with her for the day, heading into the city to go check out the aquarium with them. She’d always felt a kinship with sharks, and she had a feeling that Miles and Nicky would have a nice time staring at all the other fish and jellyfish, too. The aquarium’s touch pool had also opened recently, and she knew Miles and Nicky would love getting to stick their arms in the water and brush against the rays swimming around in the shallow water.
The aquarium was small, but contained enough variety to keep all three of them engaged. The boys zoomed around all the fish tanks, peeking with wide eyes at the little seahorses in one and pointing excitedly at the electric eels in another. They ended the trip at the touch pool, and, after she’d made sure their sleeves were pulled up and secured, the boys reached into the pool, squealing at the cold water. While the touch pool employee guided them through the rules and instructions, Stephanie backtracked into the previous room.
It was dim, and there was practically nobody in the room. A drowsy teenager had fallen asleep on one of the benches, but otherwise, the room was empty. Instead, most of the noise emanated from the room she’d just left, where she heard the low rumble of conversation interspersed with high-pitched shrieks of delight.
In this room, though, Stephanie was alone. The large pane of glass in front of her provided a foggy window into the world underwater. Sharks swam gracefully, cutting through the viscosity to glide into and out of view. Stephanie pressed her open palm against the glass, breathing in deeply. The sharks ignored her. These majestic creatures had so much power, yet so much restraint at the same time. They could maul and tear and ravage, yet the large prey fish swimming around inside the tank alongside them remained untouched.
Stephanie’s bottomless hunger would have never allowed for something like that to happen, but she admired their control. A control she wanted to have, wanted to understand, wanted to take and keep for herself. Some way to curb the hunger that would endanger even Emily and Miles if it came to it.
After standing silently for a few more minutes, she walked back into the brightly-lit touch pool room. Miles and Nicky were by the sink washing their hands, and once she walked over, they both lit up, chattering excitedly about what the rays felt like and how cold the water was (slimy and very cold).
They returned home at around 4:15 P.M., a brief glance at the clock on the wall telling Stephanie that she should check on Emily again.
She opened her texts to see whether or not Emily had responded, frowning when she saw no updates.
Hey, is everything okay? Did you get there safely? How did the meeting go?
She set the phone aside again, knowing she couldn’t do anything about the alarm bells going off in her head. She had no idea where the other woman was even supposed to be, and the boys were looking forward to eating. She had to get dinner ready first, and then she would be able to focus on Emily again.
Not even a minute later, her phone buzzed, and then again, and then again. Stephanie washed her hands and dried them quickly on a kitchen towel before picking up the phone. The caller ID indicated that Sean was the one on the other end of the line.
“Stephanie?” He sounded distraught.
“Sean? Hey, what’s wrong?” Every muscle in her body suddenly tensed up.
“Emily’s boss just called to let me know that Emily never showed up. Oh god, I know she can be flaky sometimes, but… I hope it’s just that. I reported her as missing to the police just to be safe… but I don’t know how much they can do about the situation.” He heaved a sigh over the line, the noise crackling through the speakers.
“Anyway, I just… would it be alright if Nicky stayed with you for a little while longer? I can definitely have someone drop off Nicky’s school stuff and some more clothes for him. I wish I could come back, but I really just am so busy,” he lamented.
“Oh, don’t even worry about it, Sean, I can pick it up myself. Do you have a spare key anywhere that I could use to get in?”
Sean sighed over the phone, sounding close to tears.
“Thank you so much, Stephanie, you have no idea how much this means. Yes, we have an extra that sits in the flowerpot at the front door. There’s a little fake rock behind the plant that has the key inside it.”
“Sean, it’s really no problem at all. I’m sure everything will turn out okay,” she soothed softly.
After a few more minutes of speaking with Sean, Stephanie ended the call and then straightened up. Something was definitely wrong.
It didn’t take her too long to realize that she still couldn’t do much about Emily’s disappearance. She knew next to nothing about the other woman, and Emily had no online presence at all. Emily hadn’t even told her where she would be going. Except… that tattoo. The tattoo she’d gotten when she was only 16 years old. Emily couldn’t be too far off from her age-wise, so she assumed Emily was also a teenager when she got that tattoo. The flames. The charity symbol. What did it mean?
For now, she finished dinner, her mind whirling as the boys shoveled her homemade lasagna into their mouths. Night couldn’t seem to fall fast enough, and when it did, the boys were put to bed immediately. She walked into the backyard, kneeling down beside her tiny garden. It was far from the same breadth of variety she’d had before she’d move to Connecticut, but she was slowly growing her own collection of poisonous flora. Foxgloves, daffodils, lilies, and oleander danced softly in the breeze as she begged them for an answer she didn’t have.
When the night got too cold for her, she stepped back inside, collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep. Her dreams were full of sharp teeth and bloodied claws, and a single Jimsonweed flower dripping red from its petals.
The next day saw the boys playing inside all day, content to stay in Miles’ room and put together a new lego set he’d received for his birthday a few weeks ago. Stephanie spent the day filming vlogs, editing, and then making dinner. Tonight, she had put together some mac and cheese, roasted broccoli, and sausages. There was also leftover lasagna that she’d reheated for both boys in case they wanted some.
After a day spent feeling useless, Stephanie called the boys downstairs for dinner to break the news to them.
“So, Nicky, you’ll actually be staying with us for a little longer!”
Both boys stared at her, wide-eyed, before bursting into raucous cheering.
“I’m gonna go pick up some stuff from your house later tonight, Nicky. Does that sound okay?”
Nicky nodded eagerly.
“That sounds awesome! I’m so excited!”
Stephanie smiled as genuinely as she could, still worrying about his mother.
“It sure is, champ! Now, why don’t you boys finish up dinner and then get ready for bed, okay? I’ll bring you both to school tomorrow!”
Both boys celebrated again and then sat down at the dinner table, eagerly digging into the meal.
The brief excursion to Emily’s home was unproblematic. The key was exactly where Sean had said it was, and Stephanie took the liberty of going up to Emily’s home office room to rifle through her things. She found an old yearbook, hidden away in the back of Emily’s bookshelf, which she decided to take with her. She also found the life insurance policy Sean had taken out on Emily for $4 million. The cogs began turning in her head. Upon leaving the house, seeing the already-hollow home decor even more empty with the absence of its owners, Stephanie felt unsettled. Emily should be here, but she wasn’t. Stephanie had a gut feeling that she wasn’t missing, but something was still wrong. There was still more to come.
The next few days passed by sluggishly. Stephanie spent her free time flipping through the yearbook, and ended up finding some pictures that looked suspiciously like a younger Emily. Only, neither of the names below the pictures read “Emily Nelson.” Hope and Faith McLanden were much easier to find on the internet, since they at least existed, but their information was limited, too. There were more names in the rest of the yearbook, and one, Margaret McLanden, looked particularly promising, but she would have to do more research before reaching out to the woman.
It wasn’t until the next weekend was nearly over that Stephanie finally received news from Sean again, having returned from his work trip. He’d shown up at her doorstep, ready to take Nicky home, and then proceeded to break down in tears while the boys were still in the backyard having fun.
“She’s gone, Stephanie. She’s gone.”
Stephanie froze in her steps to go get the boys, turning around slowly.
“What?”
“Emily’s gone,” he echoed miserably.
“I… she’s gone?” The alarm bells wouldn’t stop ringing in her head, and she pressed her palms to her temples in an attempt to calm the oncoming headache.
“They found her body. She drowned in Michigan, at some summer camp lake.”
“Oh my god, Sean, I’m so sorry, oh god, I— oh god, Emily. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t… oh my god,” Stephanie stuttered her way through a half-apology and felt the tears come. It wasn’t hard, since thinking about Emily gone forever from this world was a thought she couldn’t possibly bear. But, the carefully-concealed tattoo around her wrist proved otherwise. Emily couldn’t possibly be gone, because with it, the tattoo would’ve disappeared.
Sean walked away with Nicky, and Stephanie watched the young boy’s heart break as Sean relayed the news to him. She wished she could’ve spared him the grief, but there was no easy way to reveal how she knew Emily was still alive. Once Nicky was gone, Miles and Stephanie got ready for bed. In the bathroom, Stephanie cleaned off the foundation to reveal the flames, just as they’d been on her wrist for the past 16 years. So this was the dark side Emily had been hiding from her.
Only a few weeks ago, Stephanie had vowed that she’d never let Emily go, and she was determined to stick by that oath.
With her already-established lead, it didn’t take much more digging. The yearbook originated from a so-called Squaw Lake Bible Camp, located in Michigan. Stephanie would bet her life savings that that’s where Emily’s body had been found. And, if that wasn’t enough already, Stephanie discovered more information about Margaret McLanden. The woman was mother to both Hope and Faith McLanden. She thought briefly again about reaching out to the older woman, before deciding against it. She could find Emily without the help, thank you very much.
She spent the night scoring a small heart above the plus sign on her arm. In the morning, Emily had finally texted her back.
What are you waiting for? You gonna come find me, baby?
Stephanie had pieced together most of the puzzle pieces by now, and the text message was enough for her to track down the generalities of Emily’s location. She was nearby, and Stephanie was going to find her. A motel was the most sensible choice in this situation; they were, after all, the most seedy locations, and Emily was meant to be dead. She drove past five of them before one finally caught her attention. She went up to the worker manning the front desk and made sure to put her best face forward.
“Sir? Oh I’m so sorry to bother you, I’m just,” she wrung her hands for added effect. “I’m looking for my sister. I think she might be hurt. I’m just so worried about her, she’s— she’s all I have left. She has blonde hair, blue eyes, have you seen anyone who looks like that come through?” She let the tears fall, looking down at the floor and shrinking in on herself to seem even smaller.
“Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry to hear that. She told me not to tell anyone she was here, but I can tell you have a good heart. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have some family with her. She’s in room 2201,” he smiled at her and handed her a room key.
Stephanie almost grinned at how laughably easy the hotel security was, but instead allowed tears to well up as she thanked the man profusely and quickly walked up the stairs to the second floor.
Sliding the key into the lock, she quickly stepped inside the room and shut it behind her.
“Emily?”
No reply.
“Emily? It’s me, Stephanie,” she added.
“Well, that certainly took you long enough, baby,” Emily snarked.
“You gotta give me some credit. I did it all myself,” Stephanie grinned back.
Emily raised a single eyebrow.
“Is that so?”
Stephanie stared her down and let her smirk spread even wider.
“The tattoo, your yearbook, and then your text; the motel was the most obvious choice. What with the financial concerns you mentioned when we first met, I pieced together most of it. So, I’m guessing that wasn’t you at all in that lake?”
“You’d guess right,” Emily replied, smiling faintly at Stephanie’s deductions. “That was Faith.”
“And the tattoo?”
“In honor of our stillborn triplet, Charity,” Emily murmured, fingers running over her wrist.
“So that must make you Hope McLanden,” Stephanie mused.
“Well I’d certainly be shocked if mom had named her daughters Faith, Charity, and Emily,” Emily joked.
Stephanie looked her up and down.
“Hm, I like Emily better.”
Emily let out an unrestrained laugh and sat back on the bed.
“You know what, baby? I think I do, too.”
Emily leaned back against the headboard and smiled genuinely at Stephanie, cheeks dimpling slightly. Stephanie was filled with the same feeling that rushed through her veins when she added a new flower to her collection, or when she crushed bugs between her fingers. Or when she was with Emily. Stephanie felt powerful, and like she was witnessing magic, full of untapped potential.
The rest would come easily enough, she supposed. That not-so-secret affair Sean was having could be twisted. And the life insurance she wasn’t supposed to know about would come, too. It would be too easy to push Sean in the right direction, send him to prison, and move away yet again. Stephanie could never settle in one place. She followed Death, and Death followed her, and she had only shared it with a handful of people. There was more to come for both of them. There would always be more to come.
In the bathroom of the small, dingy room, Emily helped her add a rafflesia above her other breast. For you, Stephanie had insisted, and Emily had laughed and laughed and laughed.
The rest would come in due time, and she would get her way, as she always had. For now, knowing that Miles and Nicky were safe at home, she grinned as Emily wiped away the plump beads of blood and bandaged the new wound. The bandage was barely secured before Stephanie pounced, claws flashing and teeth glinting, leading Emily away.
Being in a motel certainly had its advantages, she supposed, as Emily unhooked her bra and let it fall to the bed. And being in a seedy one had more, she appended with a moan, once Emily had her mouth on her older scars.
Stephanie may have met Death on Death’s terms, but now she was the one in control of how it took shape in her life. She fed it, and in return, it fed her. That hunger was one that could never be placated.
Sitting in the motel, looking down at Emily’s barely-lit eyes, legs straddling Emily’s thighs, a moan burbling up in her throat, Stephanie could see her dreams crystallizing into reality. She just had to set things in motion.
As Emily’s hands slid down the constellation of scars marking her thighs, Stephanie gained a new absolute in her life.
One, she loved Miles. Two, she pretended like she loved everybody else.
Three, Emily Nelson eclipsed all else. They were tidally locked for all eternity.