The Dead House - Dawn Kurtagich Page 0,63
skin, like uncanny tears. It was cold, which is so familiar, so safe. Like an old friend, Dee… you can understand that.
When his hands fell from my hair to run down my back and take in my thighs and then frantically up to my breasts—I was on fire. I crossed a line I never let myself cross when I haunted the streets of Chester. I don’t know why. Maybe because I could. Maybe because I had no choice—I was compelled. My dark nature brought me to it. I needed it.
Do you remember? That the thing I long for the most is breath on my neck, arms wrapped around me, telling me I’m wanted. Needed. Do you?
Ari knows me now, more than anyone. He’s seen the darkest side of me and he’s been me. And he’s not afraid. It was inevitable as soon as his lips fell on mine again, his hands on me—our bodies urging us forward like an unstoppable tide. Sure, it was sore, and I don’t know if you could call it “making love.” It was more like “falling alive.”
Ari and I had sex tonight.
Sex. God, I wrote it. Sex.
Thanks to me, Carly is no longer a virgin. I have a confession, Dee, and it’s so vile and disgusting that I’m retching as I write it. I think, in some subconscious and demeaning part of me, I was hoping that this would hurt her enough to make her come back. That she would be so repulsed and appalled and angry by what I had done to her that she would just tear her way back into our body, and I would suddenly, painfully, be complete.
Dee, I feel like I just raped Carly. I know—it’s stupid. But I feel like that. She didn’t give me her consent. I don’t know…
I’ve never felt more alive than I did in his arms. It was such an amazing thing… more wonderful than anything else I’ve ever experienced. And that just makes me feel even worse!
I can’t stop feeling Ari all over me. His lips on mine, his hands in my hair, his breath—harsh and full of passion—on my neck. The feeling of the stone crypt under my back, hard and moist and cold, like the Dead House, which I felt descending all around us.
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: The Prisoner Finds Ink and Parchment
Naida supplied the caged bird with a little window. What do you think of it?
Confessional Girl
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: The Prisoner Finds Ink and Parchment
I am beyond ecstatic that Rapunzel has found her window. That the muse has been released. I am nothing without you, Caged Beauty.
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Our Secret
I can’t stop thinking about… our secret. Did that really happen only a few hours ago? Did I dream it? I don’t know what’s real anymore.
Confused, alone, needing you.
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Our Secret
You’ll never be alone again. You have me.
It was real. It happened.
It was the best moment of my life.
Do you regret it?
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Re: Our Secret
A little.
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret
Ah.
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret
Only because of Carly! I don’t regret you. You saved me. You came into the dark with me, and you showed me that there was life. You pulled me into the light.
I think I love you.
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret
Get some sleep. We had a late night, and the breakfast bell will ring any moment. Try to rest, beautiful caged Rapunzel. Things will seem less uncertain after you rest.
PS—I love every little molecule in your body. I love every hair on your head.
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 3 January 2005
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret
I don’t deserve this happiness.
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Tuesday, 4 January 2005, 6:25 am
Basement
It started with footsteps. Footsteps coming slowly towards my room. The sound is so heavy, like the footsteps of a Moloch, and they echo down the hall.
Step. (BOOM.) Step. (BOOM.) Step. (BOOM.)
I can’t move.
My heart throws itself against my ribs as though telling my lungs: Inflate! Inflate now! We need air! Breathe! BREATHE!
But I can’t breathe, because the footsteps have stopped outside my door and they squeeeeeaaakkk as the monster turns towards me—or is it a devil, Dee? I can’t tell. All I know is that there is nothing but a strip of wood between us, and all I