Read Online Project 17 by Eliza Victoria - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eliza Victoria
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Paul
, she thought.
My phone is downstairs.
“Caleb, open the door!”
The door wasn’t locked, it just got stuck. When she was finally able to push the door open, she found Caleb on his knees in front of the bathtub. The water was running.
“Caleb?” Caleb didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t even move from his position. Lillian moved forward, slowly.
My phone. My goddamn phone.
“I thought I heard
Mimsy—”
Caleb had his arms submerged in water, his skin covered with crisscrossing scratch marks. Lillian leaned forward, saw a flash of wet orange fur, and covered her mouth with her hands to keep
herself from screaming.
“Mimsy said she’ll burn my brother,” Caleb said. His eyes were bloodshot. “I can’t let that happen. My brother’s all I have.”
Lillian turned away.
“Where are you going?” Caleb said. “Get back here!”
She ran down the stairs, tripped on her feet when she reached the landing, and fell hard. She crawled on her knees and tried to look for her phone. She couldn’t find it. No time. She
turned on the tabletop and dialed Paul’s number. The call connected. Lillian hit Speaker and screamed, “It’s Caleb! It’s Caleb, it’s Caleb, it’s
Caleb!”
“Lillian?” Paul said. “Lillian, what’s—”
A hand gripped the back of her neck. Lillian whimpered and started to cry.
Caleb forced her to her feet and led her to the kitchen. “Caleb,” Lillian said. “Caleb, let me go.”
He bent her over the sink, stray wisps from her ponytailed hair brushing against the side of her face. Caleb leaned across her back, pinning her in place. She could feel the edge of the
countertop digging into her stomach. A pen, from Paul’s own box of refuse, was now pointed at her eye. Lillian cried harder.
“You brought that cat to this house,” Caleb said, his mouth against her ear. He was shouting. Lillian’s head hurt. “Was that the plan, you goddamn skank?”
Lillian gathered all her strength and pushed Caleb off. She threw back her elbow. It connected with Caleb’s jaw. He screamed. She pushed him and his forehead hit the countertop.
She stepped back to the kitchen doorway, cradling her elbow. Dazed, Caleb slid to the floor. He dropped the pen, pulled his knees to his chest, and covered his head with his arms.
He remained in the same position until Paul arrived.
“Lillian?” he said, his gaze moving from the living room (the still-open tabletop displaying a screensaver of dancing squares) to the kitchen. Lillian was sitting on the floor
outside the kitchen.
“He’s hurt,” Lillian said, and Paul ran to his brother. She watched as he knelt, murmuring like a nurse at a dying man’s bedside, and placed his arms around Caleb.
“It’s okay,” Paul said as Caleb cried in deep, heaving sobs that made Lillian’s chest ache. “I’m right here.”
20
While Paul tended to Caleb’s wounds upstairs, Lillian stayed in the kitchen and replaced the calcium pills with Senerex. For a brief moment she looked at the bottle of Neuropro, but she
could hear Paul walking downstairs. She slammed the cupboard shut and sat by the kitchen island.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Asleep,” Paul said. “I’ll give him his pills in two hours.” He looked at her with worried eyes. “How about you, Lillian? Are you all right? Would you like
some coffee?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “About Mimsy—”
“Oh, God,” Paul said. “Oh, God, your cat. I’m so sorry. I placed her in a box for now.”
Lillian nodded.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Paul said. “I don’t understand what happened. This is the first time he became violent after he started taking his meds, and Caleb took
all of his meds on time. We made sure of that, didn’t we? I’m so sorry, Lillian.”
Paul was a good man. Too good. Lillian recalled the calcium pills, Mimsy dead in the water, how Caleb cried against his brother’s chest like a child lost in the wild. For the first time
everything came
, she thought.
My phone is downstairs.
“Caleb, open the door!”
The door wasn’t locked, it just got stuck. When she was finally able to push the door open, she found Caleb on his knees in front of the bathtub. The water was running.
“Caleb?” Caleb didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t even move from his position. Lillian moved forward, slowly.
My phone. My goddamn phone.
“I thought I heard
Mimsy—”
Caleb had his arms submerged in water, his skin covered with crisscrossing scratch marks. Lillian leaned forward, saw a flash of wet orange fur, and covered her mouth with her hands to keep
herself from screaming.
“Mimsy said she’ll burn my brother,” Caleb said. His eyes were bloodshot. “I can’t let that happen. My brother’s all I have.”
Lillian turned away.
“Where are you going?” Caleb said. “Get back here!”
She ran down the stairs, tripped on her feet when she reached the landing, and fell hard. She crawled on her knees and tried to look for her phone. She couldn’t find it. No time. She
turned on the tabletop and dialed Paul’s number. The call connected. Lillian hit Speaker and screamed, “It’s Caleb! It’s Caleb, it’s Caleb, it’s
Caleb!”
“Lillian?” Paul said. “Lillian, what’s—”
A hand gripped the back of her neck. Lillian whimpered and started to cry.
Caleb forced her to her feet and led her to the kitchen. “Caleb,” Lillian said. “Caleb, let me go.”
He bent her over the sink, stray wisps from her ponytailed hair brushing against the side of her face. Caleb leaned across her back, pinning her in place. She could feel the edge of the
countertop digging into her stomach. A pen, from Paul’s own box of refuse, was now pointed at her eye. Lillian cried harder.
“You brought that cat to this house,” Caleb said, his mouth against her ear. He was shouting. Lillian’s head hurt. “Was that the plan, you goddamn skank?”
Lillian gathered all her strength and pushed Caleb off. She threw back her elbow. It connected with Caleb’s jaw. He screamed. She pushed him and his forehead hit the countertop.
She stepped back to the kitchen doorway, cradling her elbow. Dazed, Caleb slid to the floor. He dropped the pen, pulled his knees to his chest, and covered his head with his arms.
He remained in the same position until Paul arrived.
“Lillian?” he said, his gaze moving from the living room (the still-open tabletop displaying a screensaver of dancing squares) to the kitchen. Lillian was sitting on the floor
outside the kitchen.
“He’s hurt,” Lillian said, and Paul ran to his brother. She watched as he knelt, murmuring like a nurse at a dying man’s bedside, and placed his arms around Caleb.
“It’s okay,” Paul said as Caleb cried in deep, heaving sobs that made Lillian’s chest ache. “I’m right here.”
20
While Paul tended to Caleb’s wounds upstairs, Lillian stayed in the kitchen and replaced the calcium pills with Senerex. For a brief moment she looked at the bottle of Neuropro, but she
could hear Paul walking downstairs. She slammed the cupboard shut and sat by the kitchen island.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Asleep,” Paul said. “I’ll give him his pills in two hours.” He looked at her with worried eyes. “How about you, Lillian? Are you all right? Would you like
some coffee?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “About Mimsy—”
“Oh, God,” Paul said. “Oh, God, your cat. I’m so sorry. I placed her in a box for now.”
Lillian nodded.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Paul said. “I don’t understand what happened. This is the first time he became violent after he started taking his meds, and Caleb took
all of his meds on time. We made sure of that, didn’t we? I’m so sorry, Lillian.”
Paul was a good man. Too good. Lillian recalled the calcium pills, Mimsy dead in the water, how Caleb cried against his brother’s chest like a child lost in the wild. For the first time
everything came
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