The Dark Spirits Beneath Kason Laufenberg (100 books to read in a lifetime txt) 📖

just made her feel comfortable and made her feel safe. "It was... Something that made me special. Like Alex. We were twins. Alex was always the one that mother would brag to her friends about. He was the whiz kid, the academic, the athletic one. And me? Well, I was the one they were always getting into trouble. Getting notes sent home by my teachers. Starting fights on the playground. Running off into the woods or staying out all night without telling Mom where I was. I got to know them inside of Sheriff Stevenson's pick-up truck pretty well, by the time I was nine."

Layla's eyes dropped down to the Saint Christopher medallion she was now spinning mindlessly between her fingers. "But not Alex. No, he was always just... there. The one that Mom could always count on. It used to make me so mad, and I used to blame him for all of it. It's funny. After all these years, I still remember, what it was I said to him, right before I stormed out that day. The last time I ever saw him," she closed her eyes, and smiled weakly, as a tear slowly trailed down her cheek, "'I hate you'... I didn't mean it, of course, but I was just so mad. It was dumb. Mom had decided she was going to go to his baseball game, instead of my choir concert. I had this big solo, and it might sound trivial, but I was so, so excited about it. It feels stupid now, but I was just so upset that it felt like she chose him over me. Especially when I felt like singing and music was what really made me special. Was something she and I shared together, in common."

Layla gave an airy, hollow chuckle, which gave a faint echo within the darkened stone room, "I guess none of that even matters now, huh. Especially since Alex disappeared right out of our front yard later that very afternoon. And what's more, he wasn't even the only one. Five kids in all. Over the course of two months. It tore our little town apart. The local paper called it 'The Summer Innocence Died in Stone Creek'. Five kids, three boys, and two girls. All around the same age. All went missing. All were found, a few weeks later. Buried and mutilated. All out in those damn woods," she looked down at the medallion in her fingers again, "I used to love those woods, ya know? Not anymore.

"It was Alex's disappearance that eventually broke my mother. Even before we found his body. She always had trouble dealing with depression anyway. She never really talked much about having a very happy childhood. And then, there was our dad leaving before we were even born. Her own parents disowned her for getting pregnant with the two of us so young. And then, there was everything with Alex..." the tears were flowing freely now, and as she continued to open up, Becca gently slid her hand over the dusty stone floor and rested it on top of Layla's, all the while continuing to listen, uninterrupted, and with eyes that shone with nothing but compassion. "I guess it just pushed her over the edge. She... was just... a shell of her former self. Shattered. And then when we finally did find him, three weeks after he went missing," Layla's words trembled, "well, that was too much for her to bear." The next words seemed to almost remain stuck in Layla's throat, as she gripped Becca's over placed hand tighter, feeling the still gritty and dirty floor beneath, "It... It was me who found her, lying on the bathroom floor. The shattered glass of whiskey, alongside her bleeding, lifeless body, from where she cut deep, deliberately lines down each of her wrists. Deciding to end the pain, I guess, and take her own life, all while I was still brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed."

Chapter 14

Aftermath

When Layla woke, she was surprised to find that she was no longer in the grand room of that great stone pyramid. She wasn't even in the jungle anymore. It was the inside of a house. And as she ran her fingers over the back of the blue upholstered sofa and wooden end tables, Layla instantly knew where she was.

She took a step forward and tripped over a pair of muddy pink tennis shoes. Her shoes. And as she walked past the living room, past the sleeping German Shepard in the corner, cast in the glow of a TV, playing a loop of late-night infomercials, and into the darkened dining room, Layla could hear a voice. A voice she knew very well because it was hers. Only fifteen years younger.

"Mom? Sorry, it's so late. Sheriff Stevenson dropped me off," the nine-year-old version of Layla was speaking to a woman, who was sitting alone at the table, staring blankly and emotionlessly ahead, with a glass of some sort of golden-colored alcohol in one hand on the table. She didn't acknowledge the girl's presence. She hardly blinked. Still, young Layla went on, "I, uh... I wore the Saint Christopher medallion you told me to. To keep me safe, so I don't get hurt while I'm out there looking for those kids, and..." Still no reaction. The young girl's face sank, as she continued, "Mom? It's gonna be okay, Mom. We're gonna find him. Alex is out there, and we're gonna find him." She climbed up on the chair, and kissed the forehead of the statuesque woman, as silent tears were beginning to stream down her trembling cheeks. "I'm... I'm gonna go to bed now, Mom. You should too. Don't stay up too late, okay? I love you." Without any sort of reaction, the girl walked out of the room and down the hall, and into a bedroom. As she shut off the overhead light, a sea of green stars gently glowed overhead, as the girl