Page 88 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

Chapter 56: Mitch

I didn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed, naked next to Skylar, her body pressed to mine and her head against my shoulder. I was scared to close my eyes, sure that the moment I let my guard down Jo Beth would start shaking the walls and rattling the windows, throwing objects, and turning from semi-benevolent spirit to full-on poltergeist.

And I wouldn't be able to defend my actions, except that the only time I felt peace was when I held Skylar in my arms.

Maybe Jo Beth understood, maybe she forgave, for she didn’t haunt us that night. The next morning, however, brought its own brand of trouble. I heard the door open at around 5:30 a.m., and thinking I knew who it was, I threw on sweatpants and went downstairs. I was surprised to find Gavin in the kitchen. He was preheating the oven. A pan of what looked like cinnamon rolls sat on the kitchen counter. “Isn’t it kind of early to be dropping by unannounced?” I asked.

Gavin pivoted toward me. If he was startled, he didn’t show it; he just flicked his bangs from his eyes. “Skylar knew I was coming. Her online Brontë exam is scheduled for this morning and I’m bringing her breakfast. She likes waking up to the smell of baking cinnamon.”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

“What?” he demanded.

I shook my head. “Nothing.” I went toward the refrigerator, feeling Gavin’s suspicious eyes on me. They pressed into my bare back as I drank directly from the orange juice carton.

“I’ll just go say good morning to Skylar,” Gavin murmured and I gagged slightly on the last gulp of OJ.

Skylar was most likely still asleep in my bed.

“I’ll get her,” I said, shoving the carton of juice back into the refrigerator and swinging the door shut. I bolted out of the kitchen and sort of jumped in front of Gavin, blocking his path upstairs. “I was about to take a shower, anyway. I’ll just knock on her door and tell her to come down.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes and he sniffed, like an animal trying to determine a scent. “Skylar’s my girlfriend,” he said. “She’s coming with me to Chicago and we’re in love.”

“Okay.”

He looked me up and down. “Okay. I don’t need you acting like you own her.”

Did he know? Could Gavin see into the past so that now, the heat of his hatred was rising like the temperature of the oven he’d just turned on? “Sure,” I said. “I just thought I’d knock on her bedroom door, that’s all. So…” I looked at the space between Gavin and me, thinking if I could just walk away from him, that this awful, awkward moment would be erased. I coughed away the orange juice acid that still lingered on my tongue. “I think I’ll go do that.”

I began to back away but I hadn’t had time to turn around when Gavin lunged toward me, his fingers landing firmly around my neck. His thumbs burrowed into my throat, cutting off my air supply. I flailed my arms out and jerked my body back and forth, trying to punch him or at least escape his grasp, but I’d been taken by surprise and that weakened me. I felt as if my eyes would pop out of my head when he squeezed, harder and harder as he strangled my life away.

Then, mercifully, he released my throat. It was a mere second of freedom. As I rasped to regain my breath, Gavin stepped into the kitchen but instantly he was back, holding Skylar’s heaviest, thickest pottery mug. He used the thing like a set of brass knuckles, swinging and clobbering me in the temple.

After that, everything went black.