eccentric but totally harmless. In fact, they were very kind people that would never harm a fly. Yet, most everyone in this town acted as though we were some kind of infectious disease with no cure. People really were gullible, believing our house was haunted. All the ghost stories floating around about my family were just plain silly to me. But most of the people in this town actually believed them.
Anger continued its invasion on my thoughts. I headed down stairs, set on defending Maggie. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Maggie was entering the front door. She looked up at me surprised.
With a warm smile she said, “Oh, hi honey. I thought you’d gone up to bed.”
“Who were you talking to?” I responded, holding back anger until she answered.
“That was Mr. Marshall, honey.” Registering the confusion on my face, she continued, “His son is Logan.”
Great! Even worse than Brent’s dad.
Agitation was stronger than my filter causing me to ask a little too harshly, “What did he want?”
“He said that Logan was upset after school about an altercation he had with you and some of your friends,” she stated, closing the door and locking it.
“It was only one friend,” I muttered, putting my head down, ashamed, as the tone of my voice conveyed typical teenage attitude. “And his son started it.”
Oh yeah, that was less typical, Claire.
Should I explain further? I didn’t want to upset Maggie.
After she spoke, I understood there was no need to continue my defense. “He said he could assure you that Logan was not going to bother you again. He just wanted to make sure that your friends would not bother Logan either. I explained to him that they wouldn’t. Simple as that, dear.”
“No, of course not, Aunt Maggie,” I assured her.
She continued smiling like she never doubted I had anything to do with Logan’s poor manners and I loved her even more for it. “Good, then it’s settled. You really should get some sleep, Claire.”
Climbing up the stairs to my room, I was irritated. Logan was obviously not truthful with his Dad. It seemed he was afraid of Brent’s reaction however, and that pleased me. Clutching the bruise on my chest, I was grateful Brent was there to protect me. I would never tell him that, but it felt good to admit, if only to myself.
Climbing back into bed, I forgot about Logan and made another attempt at reading. I ignored the urge to analyze the words and examine Brent’s perception about Lucy’s design. It wasn’t long before I was deep asleep.
My body was heavy, and it felt like the bed was sucking me in. I fought against it but I was being weighed down and I awoke startled, choking, and unable to catch my breath. Feeling fingers curled around my neck, I clawed at something, skin, but the attacker didn’t move. Summoning what little strength I had, I twisted and turned trying to free myself. It was hopeless. I attempted to scream but swallowed my voice. Pulling my knees up, I dug my feet into the bed and thrust my body upwards. My effort was worthless as my body remained pinned. Forcing my eyes open, I narrowed them when I saw Logan. He was laughing and his eyes were filled with familiar hate.
“You little freak,” he spat angrily, drops of his saliva landed on my cheek.
Unable to fight him any longer, my body went limp. Crying, I pleaded with him to stop but he only squeezed harder. I fought to get small breaths through my constricted airways, but it wasn’t enough. Starting to sob uncontrollably, I was teetering on unconsciousness and I finally gave up.
“What’s the matter, freak, no one to save you this time?” he snickered, pressing harder and I knew that he was going to kill me.
“Claire, Claire, wake up!” I heard Maggie’s voice shouting through my fear and felt her hands on both sides of my arms. “You were dreaming, dear. Are you all right?”
Groggily, I woke and grabbed her, hugging her tight. I was coughing and gulping in air.
Anger continued its invasion on my thoughts. I headed down stairs, set on defending Maggie. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Maggie was entering the front door. She looked up at me surprised.
With a warm smile she said, “Oh, hi honey. I thought you’d gone up to bed.”
“Who were you talking to?” I responded, holding back anger until she answered.
“That was Mr. Marshall, honey.” Registering the confusion on my face, she continued, “His son is Logan.”
Great! Even worse than Brent’s dad.
Agitation was stronger than my filter causing me to ask a little too harshly, “What did he want?”
“He said that Logan was upset after school about an altercation he had with you and some of your friends,” she stated, closing the door and locking it.
“It was only one friend,” I muttered, putting my head down, ashamed, as the tone of my voice conveyed typical teenage attitude. “And his son started it.”
Oh yeah, that was less typical, Claire.
Should I explain further? I didn’t want to upset Maggie.
After she spoke, I understood there was no need to continue my defense. “He said he could assure you that Logan was not going to bother you again. He just wanted to make sure that your friends would not bother Logan either. I explained to him that they wouldn’t. Simple as that, dear.”
“No, of course not, Aunt Maggie,” I assured her.
She continued smiling like she never doubted I had anything to do with Logan’s poor manners and I loved her even more for it. “Good, then it’s settled. You really should get some sleep, Claire.”
Climbing up the stairs to my room, I was irritated. Logan was obviously not truthful with his Dad. It seemed he was afraid of Brent’s reaction however, and that pleased me. Clutching the bruise on my chest, I was grateful Brent was there to protect me. I would never tell him that, but it felt good to admit, if only to myself.
Climbing back into bed, I forgot about Logan and made another attempt at reading. I ignored the urge to analyze the words and examine Brent’s perception about Lucy’s design. It wasn’t long before I was deep asleep.
My body was heavy, and it felt like the bed was sucking me in. I fought against it but I was being weighed down and I awoke startled, choking, and unable to catch my breath. Feeling fingers curled around my neck, I clawed at something, skin, but the attacker didn’t move. Summoning what little strength I had, I twisted and turned trying to free myself. It was hopeless. I attempted to scream but swallowed my voice. Pulling my knees up, I dug my feet into the bed and thrust my body upwards. My effort was worthless as my body remained pinned. Forcing my eyes open, I narrowed them when I saw Logan. He was laughing and his eyes were filled with familiar hate.
“You little freak,” he spat angrily, drops of his saliva landed on my cheek.
Unable to fight him any longer, my body went limp. Crying, I pleaded with him to stop but he only squeezed harder. I fought to get small breaths through my constricted airways, but it wasn’t enough. Starting to sob uncontrollably, I was teetering on unconsciousness and I finally gave up.
“What’s the matter, freak, no one to save you this time?” he snickered, pressing harder and I knew that he was going to kill me.
“Claire, Claire, wake up!” I heard Maggie’s voice shouting through my fear and felt her hands on both sides of my arms. “You were dreaming, dear. Are you all right?”
Groggily, I woke and grabbed her, hugging her tight. I was coughing and gulping in air.
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