Good Bones (Or, an Exercise in Letting Go)
By
Holly Scott
—why are you doing that?
what do you mean?
—your arms, they're bleeding.
The water is freezing. Her head is
pounding. Her mouth tastes like copper and chemicals and asphalt. Jack said everything was going to be okay now, and Jennifer had no choice but to believe him.
She doesn’t remember him saying it out
loud, but she knows Jack’s trying to help. Being trapped out in the heat his first day with the monster inside him had made his body feel like it was tearing in two. It stood to reason the monster hooking it’s claws in her mind would go easier if her body wasn’t fighting it off.
He filled the bath with ice water and put
her in it. Held her under with two strong hands on her shoulders until she heard it, the monster's voice telling her its plan.
—tell me, was it worth the price?
you don't know the half of it
Jack only lets her up then, tears running
down his own face. His wordless apology echoes over and over again in her head as he tries to soothe the situation in the only way he could. Jennifer wonders if she’s even alive anymore to have drowned.
From the bathroom, past the ringing in
Jennifer’s ears, they hear the front door open and slam shut again. Two voices carry through the house, an argument between a man and woman she thinks she recognizes as Jack’s parents.
Jennifer feels nothing for them, not even a
flinch when the echo of their shouting rings through the small bathroom, but it makes Jack’s body tense, and his pupils dilate.
Jennifer closes her eyes and tries to listen,
but her thoughts are too fuzzy. The shadow is saying something to Jack, something it doesn’t want her to hear. Their thoughts are linked now, but it’s careful about guarding the plan, only telling them what they need to know to get it done.
They stand at the same time, Jennifer from
the now nearly overflowing bathtub as the ice began to melt, and Jack from beside it where the air vent had been sending a chill over his clammy skin.
Only, there is no Jack and Jennifer
anymore. The shadow had changed since it’s last host was taken from it. Even when they’re docile, they’re lost. Forced to sit and watch as someone who isn’t them controls their body for horrors and mundanities alike.
he owns our souls now.
—the devil?
something like that.
Jennifer turns to the mirror. Jack hands her
a pair of sweatpants to put on over her suit. They flash identical numb smiles. A stray tear runs down Jack’s cheek.
The noise has died down outside of the
bathroom. It sounds like somebody must have won the argument. You can’t win what’s going to happen next.
Jack opens the door, the tiniest smudge of
blood smearing against the frame just above the doorknob. Neil must’ve known he was in there, because he was waiting for him.
She gathered he was like that, Neil was.
Always trying to pick a fight with his son. Even now Jennifer could Jack’s fear, only she knew too it wasn’t for what would happen to him. She could hear him pleading with himself to not feel like was what his father deserved.
Neil, leaning back in a leather recliner
chair, snaps something like, “Boy, I told you not to use all the hot water.”
But then Jennifer steps out behind him,
and Neils face changes. From tight disappointment and anger from the fight to curiosity, a look that said he was impressed almost.
“Your little queer phase finally over, then? I knew I could work it outta you, and look, you’ve even got yourself a pretty little girl there.”
His eyes rake over Jennifer’s body, and
she feels a flash of something in the back of her head, a feeling that was distinctly human, fear and disgust and embarrassment. It’s quickly overshadowed by a white hot hatred that isn’t hers, nor the boy beside hers. It could’ve been, and really it should’ve been, but it belongs to the monster.
Jack puts his hand on Jennifer’s shoulder,
his fingers digging into her skin just enough it’ll leave a bruise. She knows that that’s him, her Jack and not the monster. That he’s just trying to cling to something, protect her if he can. Her arm feels like it’s made of lead, trying to control it on her own, but she fights through it to put her hand on top of his. To show him she gets it. That she can still hear him.
Still, the dull ache from his grip goes
mostly unnoticed, Jennifer’s entire body already stiff and in pain from all that had happened since this started. It’s then that she realizes, she doesn’t even know how long ago that was.
How many days had it been since she was
taken at the pool? Since she was in the ground floor of the warehouse? Or even how many hours since being held under the freezing cold water until the monster took total control?
She tries to think back on it, but is met
with a searing pain behind her temples, her own memories protected from her. She shudders and hopelessly returns to the present.
Jack smiles a much too wide smile and the
both of them take a step forward. His tone sounds practiced, flat almost as he says, “Dad, this is Jennifer.”
Neil’s eyes narrow. Whether out of
suspicion or disapproval is unclear, unimportant really. Then he snickers, even though nothing’s funny, “The Jones girl? What the hell do you think you’re getting into, boy?”
It’s Jennifer’s turn to smile sweetly, giving
an automated answer, “Your son is a very sweet boy Mr. Dinkley. I assure you he has nothing but good intentions.”
Neil nods, “Well you know the rules, boy.
As long as you don’t knock her up, I don’t give a shit what you do. Just don’t make her daddy angry.” Neil winks, takes a long swig from one of the beer bottles in front of him on the coffee table.
Big mistake. This gives the monster an
idea.
He stands, setting the empty bottle back
down, the glass makes a dull thud on the wooden surface, a hollow echo of what’s guaranteed to come now. “Don’t let her down, Jack.” Neil sneers, and makes yet another grave mistake, turning his back to them to leave.
Jennifer picks up that very same bottle.
Her daddy doesn’t let her drink beer, for an empty bottle it’s heavier than she expected. Perfect to do what needs to be done.
Jack stops Neil from walking away, taking
long strides over to his father and putting his hand over his shoulder, just ghosting over it so he isn’t touching him, the guilty of a son who had dreams and nightmares about this moment all his life. “Hold on a second, dad.”
Jennifer carefully puts the bottle in Jack’s
left hand just as Neil turns around. Jack wastes no time drawing the weapon back, but they still both catch the slightest moment of realization that registers on Neil’s face just as Jack swings it.
The glass bottle shatters when it makes
contact the back of his head. From the sound of it,
Jennifer’s pretty sure his skull does too. Her eyelids flutter, but it makes her watch.
Forces her to appreciate how much more gentle it had let Jack be with her. Tortures her with the thought that its sympathy could mean that maybe she’ll survive this all.
Neil falls hard, Jack rolls him over onto
his back with his boot. He’s still breathing, but blood quickly seeps into the old carpet down to the hardwood underneath. A tear drips off the end of Jack’s nose just as Leah comes running.
He drops what’s left of the bottle, there's
blood dripping from his fingertips, broken glass shards stuck in his unfeeling hand. The monster in his body lies, “Mum I-I didn’t mean to...”
Her face goes pale, and her response is
simple, “Is he alive?” It’s unclear whether it's shock or disinterest that’s keeping her so calm.
Jack continues to feign innocence, “I-I
don’t know I-“
“Calm down, Jack.” Leah cuts him off,
and it’s suddenly clear that it’s fear keeping her rational.
Her hands shake as she reaches out to him,
putting her hand on her step sons chest and making him take a few steps back from his father.
Jennifer plays the part as well. She jumps
back with her hand over her mouth and a sharp gasp, entirely convincing in her numb imitation of fear.
It doesn’t matter, because Leah isn’t
worried about her, she’s afraid of Jack, too focused on trying to talk him down to worry about the girl. “Just tell me what happened.”
Jack stays silent, and that’s Jennifer’s cue.
Subtly as she can manage, she slides the
crystalline ashtray off the entertainment center, taking advantage of the fact that Leah has her back to her talking to Jack to do the same thing he had done to his father, and to her at the pool, and crashes it into the back of Leah’s skull.
The ashtray doesn’t break. Leah gasps, her
eyes going wide. It takes another two hits for her knees to give out. Her blood looks sickeningly dark in her light red hair. It drips in thick drops from her crystal weapon.
Jennifer stares apathetically down at the
two bodies. It doesn’t look like Leah is breathing anymore. Jack kneels down and checks, his hands shaking badly. She can tell he’s fighting it. She wishes she was so brave.
The shadow knows this too though, and it
must say something to him, because Jack looks up at
Jennifer and squares his jaw, pupils so wide there's only the smallest rim of dark blue around them.
In that moment, any hope Jennifer might
have had ceases. Her safety is merely a trap meant to keep Jack from trying too hard to break the shadows hold on him.
Jack stands abruptly and shoulders past
her, snatching the phone from the side table, yanking the cord from its base and binding Leah’s wrists with it. He doesn’t bother tying her ankles. It doesn’t look like she’ll be waking up any time soon.
Neil doesn’t get off so easily. He’s tied up
with braided fishing wire, the kind Leah uses for her beading work but that is strong enough to cut down to bone if you aren’t careful. It digs into his skin and draws more blood.
Silently they agree that Jennifer isn’t
suited to carry them out. She takes the car keys off of Jack’s belt loop and goes to open the trunk. It doesn’t seem big enough for two adults. Her eyes close, and she remembers how hard it had been for her to breathe. Remembers screaming and kicking at the tail lights.
There’s a small pool of her blood staining
the material from her time in the trunk. Her head pounds painfully, her own cries echoing in the back of her mind. A car drives past on the road, breaking her thoughts and making her head snap up.
On the inside, she’s screaming for help,
clawing her way over to that car and running from the murder scene in Jack’s living room. But she’s trapped, in more ways than one.
She can’t cry out, she can’t even move
freely. Even if she could, who would believe her? Her parents already hated Jack before, what would they do if she said he was making her murder people against their will? They’d probably disown her and pretend they never even had a daughter.
Blame it on that damned Dinkley boy
and his negative influences on their once sweet little girl.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
The car drives off, and Jack kicks the front
door open carrying an unconscious Leah in his arms.
They do fit in the trunk, despite what
Jennifer thought. She just hopes they don't wake up in there like she did.
Jennifer stays at the house, another of
Jack’s suspected mercies, her not having to go back to that place. Her job is instead to scrub the carpets. Hide the weapons. Make the crime scene spotless so the little sister won’t figure anything out.
She puts the beer bottle in the trash can
out back with the rest. The ashtray comes clean easily in the sink. She pours bleach on the carpet and gags down what’s left.
In some part of her mind, she knows all of
the blood stains aren’t from what happened tonight. Some of them are months old, there because of something to do with Jack, she thinks.
She can’t even remember what happened,
or how she knows it anymore. The monster is taking more and more of her memories. That scares her more than anything else that happened tonight. That she’ll be gone, watching herself do these things without even being able to recognize her until she dies like the shadow promised.
A prickling on the back of her neck tells
her Jack’s close. The rumble of his engine and three doors slamming tells her two things: that the plan had worked, and that she’d lost at least several hours in her own head.
The front door opens, and Jack kneels
down where she’s working the stains out of the shag. She doesn’t know where Leah and Neil go after that, but they won’t do any harm. Not yet at least.
The monster is done with them for now. Nothing but a loaded silence ringing in
their ears, just an empty feeling settled deep in their bones that was both relieving and terrifying.
At least, that is until the girl comes
looking.
Jennifer feels her presence reaching out to
her first, then if she closes her eyes, she can hear her. If she focuses hard enough, she can see her in the dark. The girl is looking for her.
All night Jennifer’s been searching for her
way out, for someone or something to save her. This might be her only chance. She shows the girl what she can, fragmented pieces of what she’s still able to remember.
It’s comforting just to know she’s there.
The monster has done its best to steal her hope, but this could be their saving grace.
—an angel?
don't be silly. angles aren't real. not like that.
But then Jack puts his hand on her thigh,
and the darkness collapses, the girl's image turning to smoke. They had been caught.
Her blood runs freezing cold. Her head is
pounding. Her mouth tastes like copper and chemicals and asphalt. Jack says everything is going to be okay now, and Jennifer has no choice but to believe him.
Rose Scott is a speculative fiction author from rural Australia She also serves as a first reader for Flash Fiction Magazine, was shortlisted for a competition held by Calanthe Press and has had work published in numerous literary magazines. When she’s not writing, Holly can be found going on walks, enjoying a cup of coffee and wrangling a number of guinea pigs.
Her debut novel, Wolverine Frogs, is available now. You can find more of her writing on her substack, The Assorted Monsters
By
Holly Scott
—why are you doing that?
what do you mean?
—your arms, they're bleeding.
The water is freezing. Her head is
pounding. Her mouth tastes like copper and chemicals and asphalt. Jack said everything was going to be okay now, and Jennifer had no choice but to believe him.
She doesn’t remember him saying it out
loud, but she knows Jack’s trying to help. Being trapped out in the heat his first day with the monster inside him had made his body feel like it was tearing in two. It stood to reason the monster hooking it’s claws in her mind would go easier if her body wasn’t fighting it off.
He filled the bath with ice water and put
her in it. Held her under with two strong hands on her shoulders until she heard it, the monster's voice telling her its plan.
—tell me, was it worth the price?
you don't know the half of it
Jack only lets her up then, tears running
down his own face. His wordless apology echoes over and over again in her head as he tries to soothe the situation in the only way he could. Jennifer wonders if she’s even alive anymore to have drowned.
From the bathroom, past the ringing in
Jennifer’s ears, they hear the front door open and slam shut again. Two voices carry through the house, an argument between a man and woman she thinks she recognizes as Jack’s parents.
Jennifer feels nothing for them, not even a
flinch when the echo of their shouting rings through the small bathroom, but it makes Jack’s body tense, and his pupils dilate.
Jennifer closes her eyes and tries to listen,
but her thoughts are too fuzzy. The shadow is saying something to Jack, something it doesn’t want her to hear. Their thoughts are linked now, but it’s careful about guarding the plan, only telling them what they need to know to get it done.
They stand at the same time, Jennifer from
the now nearly overflowing bathtub as the ice began to melt, and Jack from beside it where the air vent had been sending a chill over his clammy skin.
Only, there is no Jack and Jennifer
anymore. The shadow had changed since it’s last host was taken from it. Even when they’re docile, they’re lost. Forced to sit and watch as someone who isn’t them controls their body for horrors and mundanities alike.
he owns our souls now.
—the devil?
something like that.
Jennifer turns to the mirror. Jack hands her
a pair of sweatpants to put on over her suit. They flash identical numb smiles. A stray tear runs down Jack’s cheek.
The noise has died down outside of the
bathroom. It sounds like somebody must have won the argument. You can’t win what’s going to happen next.
Jack opens the door, the tiniest smudge of
blood smearing against the frame just above the doorknob. Neil must’ve known he was in there, because he was waiting for him.
She gathered he was like that, Neil was.
Always trying to pick a fight with his son. Even now Jennifer could Jack’s fear, only she knew too it wasn’t for what would happen to him. She could hear him pleading with himself to not feel like was what his father deserved.
Neil, leaning back in a leather recliner
chair, snaps something like, “Boy, I told you not to use all the hot water.”
But then Jennifer steps out behind him,
and Neils face changes. From tight disappointment and anger from the fight to curiosity, a look that said he was impressed almost.
“Your little queer phase finally over, then? I knew I could work it outta you, and look, you’ve even got yourself a pretty little girl there.”
His eyes rake over Jennifer’s body, and
she feels a flash of something in the back of her head, a feeling that was distinctly human, fear and disgust and embarrassment. It’s quickly overshadowed by a white hot hatred that isn’t hers, nor the boy beside hers. It could’ve been, and really it should’ve been, but it belongs to the monster.
Jack puts his hand on Jennifer’s shoulder,
his fingers digging into her skin just enough it’ll leave a bruise. She knows that that’s him, her Jack and not the monster. That he’s just trying to cling to something, protect her if he can. Her arm feels like it’s made of lead, trying to control it on her own, but she fights through it to put her hand on top of his. To show him she gets it. That she can still hear him.
Still, the dull ache from his grip goes
mostly unnoticed, Jennifer’s entire body already stiff and in pain from all that had happened since this started. It’s then that she realizes, she doesn’t even know how long ago that was.
How many days had it been since she was
taken at the pool? Since she was in the ground floor of the warehouse? Or even how many hours since being held under the freezing cold water until the monster took total control?
She tries to think back on it, but is met
with a searing pain behind her temples, her own memories protected from her. She shudders and hopelessly returns to the present.
Jack smiles a much too wide smile and the
both of them take a step forward. His tone sounds practiced, flat almost as he says, “Dad, this is Jennifer.”
Neil’s eyes narrow. Whether out of
suspicion or disapproval is unclear, unimportant really. Then he snickers, even though nothing’s funny, “The Jones girl? What the hell do you think you’re getting into, boy?”
It’s Jennifer’s turn to smile sweetly, giving
an automated answer, “Your son is a very sweet boy Mr. Dinkley. I assure you he has nothing but good intentions.”
Neil nods, “Well you know the rules, boy.
As long as you don’t knock her up, I don’t give a shit what you do. Just don’t make her daddy angry.” Neil winks, takes a long swig from one of the beer bottles in front of him on the coffee table.
Big mistake. This gives the monster an
idea.
He stands, setting the empty bottle back
down, the glass makes a dull thud on the wooden surface, a hollow echo of what’s guaranteed to come now. “Don’t let her down, Jack.” Neil sneers, and makes yet another grave mistake, turning his back to them to leave.
Jennifer picks up that very same bottle.
Her daddy doesn’t let her drink beer, for an empty bottle it’s heavier than she expected. Perfect to do what needs to be done.
Jack stops Neil from walking away, taking
long strides over to his father and putting his hand over his shoulder, just ghosting over it so he isn’t touching him, the guilty of a son who had dreams and nightmares about this moment all his life. “Hold on a second, dad.”
Jennifer carefully puts the bottle in Jack’s
left hand just as Neil turns around. Jack wastes no time drawing the weapon back, but they still both catch the slightest moment of realization that registers on Neil’s face just as Jack swings it.
The glass bottle shatters when it makes
contact the back of his head. From the sound of it,
Jennifer’s pretty sure his skull does too. Her eyelids flutter, but it makes her watch.
Forces her to appreciate how much more gentle it had let Jack be with her. Tortures her with the thought that its sympathy could mean that maybe she’ll survive this all.
Neil falls hard, Jack rolls him over onto
his back with his boot. He’s still breathing, but blood quickly seeps into the old carpet down to the hardwood underneath. A tear drips off the end of Jack’s nose just as Leah comes running.
He drops what’s left of the bottle, there's
blood dripping from his fingertips, broken glass shards stuck in his unfeeling hand. The monster in his body lies, “Mum I-I didn’t mean to...”
Her face goes pale, and her response is
simple, “Is he alive?” It’s unclear whether it's shock or disinterest that’s keeping her so calm.
Jack continues to feign innocence, “I-I
don’t know I-“
“Calm down, Jack.” Leah cuts him off,
and it’s suddenly clear that it’s fear keeping her rational.
Her hands shake as she reaches out to him,
putting her hand on her step sons chest and making him take a few steps back from his father.
Jennifer plays the part as well. She jumps
back with her hand over her mouth and a sharp gasp, entirely convincing in her numb imitation of fear.
It doesn’t matter, because Leah isn’t
worried about her, she’s afraid of Jack, too focused on trying to talk him down to worry about the girl. “Just tell me what happened.”
Jack stays silent, and that’s Jennifer’s cue.
Subtly as she can manage, she slides the
crystalline ashtray off the entertainment center, taking advantage of the fact that Leah has her back to her talking to Jack to do the same thing he had done to his father, and to her at the pool, and crashes it into the back of Leah’s skull.
The ashtray doesn’t break. Leah gasps, her
eyes going wide. It takes another two hits for her knees to give out. Her blood looks sickeningly dark in her light red hair. It drips in thick drops from her crystal weapon.
Jennifer stares apathetically down at the
two bodies. It doesn’t look like Leah is breathing anymore. Jack kneels down and checks, his hands shaking badly. She can tell he’s fighting it. She wishes she was so brave.
The shadow knows this too though, and it
must say something to him, because Jack looks up at
Jennifer and squares his jaw, pupils so wide there's only the smallest rim of dark blue around them.
In that moment, any hope Jennifer might
have had ceases. Her safety is merely a trap meant to keep Jack from trying too hard to break the shadows hold on him.
Jack stands abruptly and shoulders past
her, snatching the phone from the side table, yanking the cord from its base and binding Leah’s wrists with it. He doesn’t bother tying her ankles. It doesn’t look like she’ll be waking up any time soon.
Neil doesn’t get off so easily. He’s tied up
with braided fishing wire, the kind Leah uses for her beading work but that is strong enough to cut down to bone if you aren’t careful. It digs into his skin and draws more blood.
Silently they agree that Jennifer isn’t
suited to carry them out. She takes the car keys off of Jack’s belt loop and goes to open the trunk. It doesn’t seem big enough for two adults. Her eyes close, and she remembers how hard it had been for her to breathe. Remembers screaming and kicking at the tail lights.
There’s a small pool of her blood staining
the material from her time in the trunk. Her head pounds painfully, her own cries echoing in the back of her mind. A car drives past on the road, breaking her thoughts and making her head snap up.
On the inside, she’s screaming for help,
clawing her way over to that car and running from the murder scene in Jack’s living room. But she’s trapped, in more ways than one.
She can’t cry out, she can’t even move
freely. Even if she could, who would believe her? Her parents already hated Jack before, what would they do if she said he was making her murder people against their will? They’d probably disown her and pretend they never even had a daughter.
Blame it on that damned Dinkley boy
and his negative influences on their once sweet little girl.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
The car drives off, and Jack kicks the front
door open carrying an unconscious Leah in his arms.
They do fit in the trunk, despite what
Jennifer thought. She just hopes they don't wake up in there like she did.
Jennifer stays at the house, another of
Jack’s suspected mercies, her not having to go back to that place. Her job is instead to scrub the carpets. Hide the weapons. Make the crime scene spotless so the little sister won’t figure anything out.
She puts the beer bottle in the trash can
out back with the rest. The ashtray comes clean easily in the sink. She pours bleach on the carpet and gags down what’s left.
In some part of her mind, she knows all of
the blood stains aren’t from what happened tonight. Some of them are months old, there because of something to do with Jack, she thinks.
She can’t even remember what happened,
or how she knows it anymore. The monster is taking more and more of her memories. That scares her more than anything else that happened tonight. That she’ll be gone, watching herself do these things without even being able to recognize her until she dies like the shadow promised.
A prickling on the back of her neck tells
her Jack’s close. The rumble of his engine and three doors slamming tells her two things: that the plan had worked, and that she’d lost at least several hours in her own head.
The front door opens, and Jack kneels
down where she’s working the stains out of the shag. She doesn’t know where Leah and Neil go after that, but they won’t do any harm. Not yet at least.
The monster is done with them for now. Nothing but a loaded silence ringing in
their ears, just an empty feeling settled deep in their bones that was both relieving and terrifying.
At least, that is until the girl comes
looking.
Jennifer feels her presence reaching out to
her first, then if she closes her eyes, she can hear her. If she focuses hard enough, she can see her in the dark. The girl is looking for her.
All night Jennifer’s been searching for her
way out, for someone or something to save her. This might be her only chance. She shows the girl what she can, fragmented pieces of what she’s still able to remember.
It’s comforting just to know she’s there.
The monster has done its best to steal her hope, but this could be their saving grace.
—an angel?
don't be silly. angles aren't real. not like that.
But then Jack puts his hand on her thigh,
and the darkness collapses, the girl's image turning to smoke. They had been caught.
Her blood runs freezing cold. Her head is
pounding. Her mouth tastes like copper and chemicals and asphalt. Jack says everything is going to be okay now, and Jennifer has no choice but to believe him.
Rose Scott is a speculative fiction author from rural Australia She also serves as a first reader for Flash Fiction Magazine, was shortlisted for a competition held by Calanthe Press and has had work published in numerous literary magazines. When she’s not writing, Holly can be found going on walks, enjoying a cup of coffee and wrangling a number of guinea pigs.
Her debut novel, Wolverine Frogs, is available now. You can find more of her writing on her substack, The Assorted Monsters
