The Bone Maiden

The Six of Cups

Theresa had this idea in her head that she was meant for more than what she had. As a child, she’d been a notorious storyteller. The kind of child who wove tall tales to explain whatever she could. “Werewolves ate my bunny rabbit,” she’d tell other kids on the playground. “The school is haunted. The ghosts tell me their secrets.”

She’d grown out of it by the time we became friends, but as we got to know each other, it became easier to tell the truth from the lies. Theresa had never broken the habit, she’d only made the lies more believable. But she was on a never-ending quest to be more. One moment she wanted to be a movie star, the next and that wasn’t enough. She wanted to sing. She wanted to dance. She wanted people to love her. Regardless of what her path of choice was for the week, Theresa believed she was destined for great things.

Ariel said I was an enabler. I never called Theresa out on her lies. I only knew how to tell them apart. She continued to do it. And I continued to watch. I told her that her singing was great. I told her she’d be a fantastic actor. I told her that no matter where she went, I would support her as long as she took me along for the ride.

I didn’t believe in Gabriel the first time she told me about him. It was hard for me to believe anything that happened to Theresa outside of her friendship with me. She did sometimes leave when I was busy working weekend shifts at the restaurant. She would leave town in search of something to do to break the curse of boredom that came with living in such a small town. She’d tell me wild tales of her adventures. Parties in the city. Beautiful boys with sharp blue eyes and pockets full of cash. Magic. Mystery. Making out in graveyards.

She never wanted me to see Gabriel. I couldn’t meet him, and I couldn’t see pictures of him. But she talked about him so often I began to believe he was real. I read his texts to her sometimes, and it became harder and harder to think she was lying. I suppose she wasn’t because I couldn’t stop thinking of the boy pacing the deck with tears in his eyes.

Theresa was standing at the bottom of the stairs. I could feel her there. As if something was drawing me to her. She always had a presence about her. It was easy to read her attitude before we ever shared the same space. Somehow I always knew how she was feeling. Except for when it really mattered.

I could feel her now, but I couldn’t place the emotion. Just that she was there and she wanted to talk. I left my bedroom, slowly creeping down the darkened hallway until I reached the top, where I could look down at the shape of her in the dark.

“You always hated the tops of staircases,” she said, examining me with her head c****d to the side. “It’s where your mama died.” I headed down the stairs, slightly irritated that she was bringing that up.

“I know,” I snapped. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I just wanted to talk is all,” she replied innocently. She walked into the living room, running her fingers along the cabinet holding all of my family’s heirlooms. Things that would now be passed to me since my aunt and uncle didn’t trust their only son with anything valuable.

“What do you want to talk about at three in the morning?”

“How did your mama die exactly? You never did tell me.”

“She fell down the stairs and broke her neck. I did tell you.”

“Nope. I don’t think so. You told me she fell. Not why.”

“It was dark. The nightlight in the hallway went out.”

“Is that what they told you? And what about the black stuff coming out of her face?” I gritted my teeth, watching her wander the living room with familiarity. She could navigate it well even without the lights on. But I'd never told her about the dark ooze that still crept up in nightmares from time to time.

“Blood,” I said with a flat tone. She laughed softly.

“Blood. Where I come from, blood ain’t black.”

“What’s this about, Theresa?”

“What about your daddy? Died on the way to the hospital, didn’t he? After your mama fell? How tragic is that? To lose both parents on the same night in such different ways. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. Were you there? Did you see it happen?”

“You know that I was, Theresa.”

“And was it blood coming out of your daddy too? Did it come out of his eyes like it did mine?”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” She spun back around. I could see her dark eyes twinkling in the nightlight from the kitchen.

“You did it, you know? It’s your fault. It’s always your fault when something dies around you. You’ve known it all along, but you don’t wanna admit it. Maybe you should just kill yourself and get it over with. Maybe all the dying will stop when you’re dead.”

In an instant, light flooded the living room. I was standing alone by the couch, staring off at the place where Theresa had been.

“Ava?” I heard behind me. I turned around to find Ariel at the bottom of the stairs, watching me with concern. I looked down at my feet, clean and free of mud, but I was in my pajamas. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I realized. “I’m awake.”

“Who were you talking to? I heard voices.”

“I was talking?”

“Well, just you. I didn’t hear anyone answer.” I looked down at my hands again, trembling from the realization that I was only having a nightmare.

“I was sleepwalking,” I admitted. “I was dreaming about Theresa.”

“Oh, honey.” She moved to pull me into a hug, but I stopped her.

“No, it’s okay. I’m alright. I’ll just go back to bed.” She patted my back as I passed her. “Be careful on the stairs,” I warned before reaching the hallway again.

‹ Chapter 5