Because I called him a demon.
Some would argue he's showcasing classic signs of possession. That his reaction is proof that an evil entity hosts his body. It certainly would explain his violent shifts in demeanor and hatred of religion. But I'm not completely sold.
Blowing out a sigh, my arms flop to the mattress.
Tonight, he intended to strike where I'm weakest. And he succeeded. I’m still seething at the blatant mockery of my faith. But alone in the kitchen, his subtle truth masked in sarcasm smacked me in the face.
It's retaliation.
Spending eight hours a day together has confirmed all my suspicions: Cade has a bizarre relationship with food. Most of the time, he avoids it, though I’ve caught him on occasion sneaking into the Parish Hall's kitchen to nibble on a sandwich (only half) or pick at some snacks (never anything sweet). Sometimes, if he does eat, he’ll go to the bathroom immediately after (and when I followed him once, I definitely heard retching.)
I’ve tried forcing him to eat. Then tried ignoring it. But it’s impossible. He’s clearly starving himself and I don’t get it. Yeah, I know some girls who diet to get skinny, but this is different.
And it's getting worse.
I roll on my side, hugging the pillow as I stare at the bathroom door. He hasn’t left his room since I came upstairs and showered. No light from the crack beneath. Dark and silent.
Maybe he’s just nervous about school on Monday.
My eyelids droop.
Anxiety… yeah… that’s all it is.
Then close.
Everything's gonna be fine…
Dark.
Right, God?
And silent.
Ten
ANDREA
“Mini… baby Jesuses?”
It’s the first hint of a smile I’ve seen on Remy’s face in ages. A flicker of sunshine peeking out of the storm clouds. Grinning at the sky, I grip my backpack straps and inhale the humid morning dew. It’s like breathing in hot sewage, but I don’t care. My best friend sounds amused by the ridiculous story I’m telling him on our walk to school.
“Like a hundred of them with different colored stoles, just packed into his lunch bag.” A giggle sneaks out at the memory of Seba’s horrified expression. “They spilled all over the table and the kids wentnuts, screaming and fighting over who could collect the most. God, Seba was fuckingpissedand Cade was sitting there acting all innocent and shit like he had nothing to do with it. Spoiler alert: of course he did.”
Remy snorts. “What a shitshow.”
“Yeah, I can't wait for you to meet them,” I sigh, glancing at him. Dark circles hang like crescents under his eyes, hollow cheeks and lips quivering as he tries to maintain a fake smile. The lump in my throat returns. I loop my arm through his and rest my cheek on his shoulder as we round the corner.
The usual cliques congregate on Kingsbury’s front steps: girlsin skirts pushing the dress code boundaries, fussing over their hair and makeup while they swap gossip, obnoxious jocks laugh and shove like toddlers in a pathetic attempt to garner any female attention, while the artsy types smoke and scowl from the sliver of shade at the top of the stairs.
One of the girls, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, spots us. Melissa— my fellow teammate. Dread settles in my stomach. Even though I saw them every day at cheer practice after Bible camp last week, I’m silently compelled to make my rounds. Except right now…
My best friend needs me.
Remy tenses as Melissa waves.
I don’t let go.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” he sighs.
