Page 72 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

“Not really.”

“Does blood make you squeamish?”

“Nah, I can handle it.” He points to the bag. “That’s not the first dead guy I’ve seen.”

Sasha considers for a moment. “Okay. You can mop floor, there is lots of blood. Very big mess.”

“I can do that,” Seth breathes before chewing on his lip ring. Sasha reaches out to tug on his lower lip, which makes Seth blush harder.

“Come with me, then,” Sasha says. Seth follows him back into the house once he dumps the black bag into the back of his truck. I gag a little and watch them disappear into the house. What the hell just happened?

I should feel worse about killing my father, but right now all I feel is numb. And relieved. That he can’t threaten the hotel anymore, that he can’t hurt me or Alex. That we can all finally move on with our lives. I think about my mother. Part of me wants to reach out to her, let her know he’s gone for good. She’d probably throw herself a party. She’s always hated his guts but never enough to do anything about it. I don’t want to see her, I realize. All I can think about are the times she didn’t stand up for me when she could have. She chose him every time.

I have no parents, I decide.

***

As I lay in bed with Alex later that night, I can’t get thoughts of my father out of my head.

“Should we be concerned about how desensitized to gore and death everyone around here seems to be?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“I should have been the one to kill him,” I say.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I know you; that’s not something you’d be able to live with. You’re not a killer. I’m glad you weren’t the one to do it. You don’t need that burden on your soul.”

“What about Sasha’s soul? Is he tainted?” I ask. If I would have been tainted by the act of killing, surely Sasha would be too, right?

“That’s different. Sasha… lives by his own moral code, and killing your father fit within that code. He’d probably tell you as much. I’ll never be able to repay him for sparing you that hurt.”

“I just don’t want him doing things he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t have to live that way,” I say.

“I’m sure he knows that,” Alex reassures me. He lays back down, head resting on my chest and I wrap my arms around him.

“Hypothetically speaking, if I were to say I found a therapist that was willing to do house calls, is that something you’d still be interested in?” he asks into my chest.

I think about it for a minute. “Yeah, I’d still be interested. Thank you for doing that. I appreciate the way you look out for me.”

“Always, babe. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Fuck.

Chapter thirty-eight

Therapy

Jake

Alex sits beside me on the couch in the living room, holding my hand for support while we wait for our first therapy session to start. I’m a little surprised he finally found a woman that agreed to see me off the record for cash, and she will be arriving at the hotel any minute. I’ve never been to therapy before, so I don’t know what to expect. I absentmindedly bounce my knee, trying to calm my nerves.

“I’ll be here the whole time if that’s what you want,” Alex tells me and I nod my head.

Just then the therapist appears in the doorway and Alex and I both stand to greet her. She’s younger than I thought she’d be, maybe mid-thirties. Her black hair is pulled up in a bun and she’s wearing thick, black framed glasses. Dressed in a pencil skirt and matching jacket, she looks every bit the professional, and that instantly puts me at ease. She looks safe.

“Hi, are you Jake?” she asks me.

“Yes, hello.” I reach my hand out and she takes it gently. “We can do this in here, if that works.”