We tore into the food in the pantry, mostly boxes of cereal and protein bars. I managed to find dried bags of fruit and tossed them at Mothman. Next, we all took showers. I considered throwing my old clothes in the fireplace and using it as kindling.
Instead of Ava, Makwa came staggering out of the shower, threading his fingers through Ava’s hair before he pulled it around and began braiding it. Ava had eaten a soul for him and didn’t look too happy about it at the time. That angered me.
He swaggered into the living room where we sat perched around silently. He smiled widely and it just pissed me off more. A wicked interloper treading on sacred ground.
“Get the fuck out of her,” I spat. He was making her do things she didn’t want, making her change.
“What about the splinter?” Makwa asked, pulling up his hand then lowered his fingers while leaving the middle on extended. He smiled innocently.
“Wrong finger,” I growled.
“Ah, yeah yeah. Okay, I’ve got a solution,” Makwa said, moving towards the kitchen. I popped up and followed. He fingered the knife handles in the block before plucking the largest one out. He sauntered towards the bar.
“Let’s fix the fucking splinter!” He said with a manic smile. He slapped his hand on the table, spread his fingers wide, pulled the knife up by his shoulder, and winked at me.
“What are you doing!”
He started stabbing the knife into the countertop between each of his fingers. “Chop, chop, chop, which one gets the chop!"” he began to sing out.
“Stop!” I gasped. Even Mothman was startled but he stood still as a statue, likely worried any movement might distract the fucking psychopath in Ava’s body. Makwa didn’t stop, he sped up. Brandon clutched the armchair he was in, holding his breath. Makwa was unhinged.
“Hope I don’t slip,” Makwa said, breaking off in a laugh. Each thunk of the knife sent my heart through my chest. I watched in horror as he kept stabbing the knife back and forth between each finger. He started to sing a jaunty tune about a knife game and fingers coming off.
“Stop,” I hissed, stomping forward to grab his arm.
“I’m just having a little fun, boys!” He called out, winking at me again. Then the knife came down on the table and made a different noise. His eyes widened on me before darting to the table where one finger was lying there alone like a dead slug in a small pool of blood leaking from one end.
He lifted his hand to watch blood squirt out.
“Well, that doesn’t look good,” he said, smiling. This was just some sick joke to him. Clearly, he could heal her but instead he was fucking around. I lost it, barreling forward, rushing him into the wall, growling into his face with all my teeth on display.
“Caspian!” Ava gasped and I pulled back in shock only to realize Makwa had faked Ava’s voice and was now laughing at me. Black eyes looked at me in humor.
“I’m going to kill you,” I snapped.
“Already dead,” he countered with a grin.
“I’m going to hurt you!” I insisted. He clicked his tongue and shook his head in pity.
“No, you won’t. Hey, look on the bright side, the splinter finger is gone,” he said in chipper delight. He lifted the missing finger hand and started to wobble and slur his words. “I feel funny.”
Blood loss.
“What have you done?” I asked him in a panic.
“I can fix it,” he slurred. “Hey, where’s the finger?” He asked, looking back at the bar. The finger was missing. We looked on the floor and then Mothman cleared his throat. We looked at him and he pointed to the corner where Brandon sat staring at us, a smear of blood on his bottom lip. His eyes flicked around in panic like a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. I half expected him to say“Who me? Couldn’t be.”
“You know, I could have put that back on,” Makwa slurred like he was drunk.
“Did you…” I started.
“I didn’t know he could put it back on!” Brandon wailed. Makwa barked out hysterical laughter that was a little too high-pitched for normal. He wobbled into the table’s chair and started to fall over with it. Quickly I grabbed him, pulling him close and inspecting the wound. He blinked slowly, one eye at a time.
“I don’t like being touched,” he grumbled but I was tired of Makwa. All I saw was my Ava, hurt. So I just ignored him.
“I’ll fix this. It’ll be okay,” I said. “Someone get me something to hold against the wound.”
“It hurts,” he grumbled and I pulled him into my chest.
