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“It’s just…It’s just this thing-” Henry pointed to his head. “It… wants me cold.”
Patty frowned. “What, seriously?”
Henry nodded. “I don’t know why.”
Patty stood up and grabbed the blanket he’d kicked to the floor. She looked at it for a second, then wrapped it around Henry, tucking it snugly over every part of him but his face. Then she cupped his cheeks and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Then I guess we’ll have to sweat it out of you,” she decided.
—
Henry sat criss crossed on Patty’s bed, watching silently as she bustled around the room. She’d been back and forth, in and out of the room for about an hour now, with armfuls of blankets, candles, matches, and, just now, a portable heater. It seemed heavy, the way she had it propped up to her chest, cradling it with both arms, her gait slow and shaky.
He would have gotten up to help her, but she’d condemned him to the bed, where he was bundled in one of her sweaters, a winter hat with ear flaps, and at least three blankets. He felt a little ridiculous, especially when he caught his reflection in her vanity’s mirror, but at the same time, he truly was freezing. The monster living in his mind was getting irritable, restless, because of the warmth, and it kept trying to get him to take the layers off so he’d be cold again. His skin prickled with little shocks of pain, but if he tried to take a blanket off, he knew Patty would come over and put it right back on him. He’d already tried.
She stumbled a little bit with the heater, and Henry quickly reached his hand out to steady her, focusing his powers on holding up the heater so the weight of it wouldn’t topple her over. She gasped, still holding the machine loosely, and glanced his way.
Patty frowned at him. “Henry, put that blanket back on.” His sudden movement had slipped one of the blankets off his shoulders.
“I’m trying to help you!” he squeaked.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.” She got a grip on the heater again. “Let go of it.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said defensively. “And what do you mean, I shouldn’t?”
“Henry, let go,” she huffed. “I need to plug it in.”
Henry narrowed his eyes at her, pulling the heater out of her grasp and setting it down across the room with the flick of his hand.
Patty glared at him, hands on her hips. “Show off,” she grumbled. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Why?” he snapped.
She shook her head, leaning over the bed and putting the blanket back around him. She looked upset. Her dark eyes were glossy, and she fussed with the blanket longer than she needed to. Henry got the feeling he’d upset her. He hadn’t meant to, and his throat got tight with the thought that he’d made her sad. He was about to apologize, when she finally whispered, “Because what if using your powers makes the monster stronger?”
Henry blinked his own tears away. He thought of messing up the blankets again, to reach out and hug her, or maybe kiss her, but he got shy and just held himself instead, looking down at his lap. “I… don’t know.”
“I just don’t want it to hurt you anymore,” she explained softly. She turned away, walking over to the heater and plugging it in. When it started to glow, she focused her attention on setting up the dozens of candles she’d grabbed, arranging them neatly on her dresser, her vanity, and the small table beside her bed. “And I think you need to be careful about how much you interact with it. We already know that when you try to find someone, it tends to take over.” Patty grabbed her box of matches and struck one. She watched it burn for a moment, then carefully held the flame to the nearest candle wick. “I think it’s safe to assume that even moving things around could, at least eventually, have the same effect.”
She kept lighting candles all around the room, and Henry just watched her. Her hands were trembling as the match burned down and down, but she didn’t seem to be paying that much attention to the flame. It was going to singe her fingers if she didn’t put it out soon, but his throat was still hurting too much for him to warn her. His eyes were watery, stomach aching because he knew she was right. Still, he couldn’t help nodding his head towards the match and putting it out with his powers so it wouldn’t burn her. She’d only lit about a third of the candles by then, and simply struck another match when Henry put the first one out. It didn’t seem like she knew he’d done anything at all.
He let out a shaky sigh, biting the inside of his lip as he tried not to cry. He’d already cried so much today, and truly, he was tired of it. He wiped his eyes with the soft blanket, leaning back against the wall. Patty lit the rest of the candles without getting hurt, and when she finally blew out the last match, sticking the box in the pocket on the top of her dress, Henry felt like he could breathe better.
Hands on her hips again, Patty glanced around the room, a satisfied look on her face. “Okay. Hopefully it’ll be warmer in here now. I’m gonna go make you something hot to drink.” She turned his way. “Do you have a preference? Tea, coffee, chocolate, soup…?”
“I’m r-really okay, Patty,” he stammered. “You don’t gotta… get me anything.”
“Honey, I’m trying to keep you warm. Sweat out the monster, remember?”
Henry got a chill down his spine. Dread seeped into his head and leaked into his veins, and he swallowed hard. “Right,” he choked.
Patty stared him down for a long, uncomfortable moment. He could tell she knew something was up. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked sharply.
“What do you mean?” his voice quivered.
“Why are you trying to avoid getting the monster out?”
A horrible, scared feeling clawed at his chest and throat. “I’m-” I’m not doing it on purpose, he wanted to say, but his brain would not let him speak. He tried again, attempting to explain that he wasn’t avoiding anything, that he wanted the monster gone, but it was like there was a hand around his vocal chords, squeezing them hard and preventing him from saying anything at all. Henry panicked, and he scrambled off her bed, starting to hyperventilate. He reached for her schoolbag, hanging from her doorknob, and unzipped it in a frenzy, grabbing a notebook and a pencil.
“Henry, what’s the matter?” Patty fretted, hurrying to his side.
He shook his head roughly, the movement making his neck hurt. He couldn’t stop, but Patty grabbed his face to still him, which he was grateful for. Still, he could not breathe steadily, and he scribbled in her journal, It won’t let me talk. He turned it around and showed her the page, and she gasped once she read it.
“Oh my god!” She put her hand over her mouth for a second, one hand still on his face. Her eyes were suddenly furious, her gaze burning. “Okay, that’s enough!” She held his face in both hands again. “Listen to me, whatever you are-” Patty glowered into his eyes. “-you are done torturing this boy! I don’t care if it’s the last thing I do, I am getting you out of him!”
Patty grabbed Henry’s hand, tugging him out of her room and down the stairs. He stumbled beside her, clawing anxiously at his neck, trying desperately to speak and failing miserably. The dread from before was coursing through him tenfold, and his eyes pricked with tears.
Patty dragged him to the bathroom, but when she tried to turn the knob it was locked. She pounded on the door with her free hand. “Bob, are you in there?”
“Hold on,” Bob called back, voice muffled.
“I need you to get out!” she yelled, banging on the door again.
“I’m brushing my teeth!”
“Bob, get out!” Her voice was shrill and so loud it hurt Henry’s ears.
The door opened a second later, and Bob stood there looking incredibly confused, toothbrush in his mouth and toothpaste around his lips. “What?” he mumbled.
Patty pushed past him, Henry still in tow, and turned on the bathtub as hot as it would go. “Bob, go get the heater from my room,” she ordered.
Bob scrubbed at his teeth for a second and then spit into the sink. “Patty, what are you doing?”
“Go!’ she screamed. “Right now!”
“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in surrender. “Can I at least do my mouthwash first?”
“No!”
“Okay!” Bob finally rushed out of the room.
Patty grabbed the plug for the bathtub, stopping it up, wincing when her hand touched the water that was literally steaming as it came out of the faucet. She turned back to Henry finally. “This is probably going to hurt,” she warned him. “I’m sorry in advance, but you need to get in the tub.”
Henry stared at the water that was starting to fill up the bathtub. He wanted this monster out of him, and he knew that the hot water would probably be the thing to “sweat it out,” like Patty said, but the monster seemed like it had been planning to stay a while, and it would not let him move.
“Henry?” Patty whispered.
Henry barely had the strength to shake his head “no.”
Patty stood up from where she’d been crouched on the floor. She took both his hands in hers, standing in front of him so he’d look in her eyes instead of into the bathtub. “Henry. Please listen to me. Listen to me, not it.” She pulled his hands close to her body, kissing his knuckles and then pressing his clenched fists over her heart. “It’s going to be okay. I know this thing is strong, but you have to fight it. I know that you can fight it, and I know that you can win. Tell me what I can do.”
Adrenaline was rushing through him, making his head pound, making his body ache. He wanted to get out of here, out of this stuffy room, out of this house. It was already hot, too hot, hotter than Patty’s room under all the blankets. His skin burned and it itched and there was this god-awful feeling clawing from his stomach up to his chest that he didn’t have the words to describe, even if he had the ability to speak. He dug his nails into Patty’s hands, not trying to hurt her but trying to convey that he needed help, his throat still constricted by the grasp of his monster.
Patty squeezed his hands tight, nodding like she understood. “Okay. It’s okay.” She kissed his knuckles again. “It’s gonna be fine, Henry, I swear.” She glanced over her shoulder at the tub. It wasn’t very full yet, but it was rising steadily, the steam already fogging up the bathroom mirror. She wrapped her arms around Henry, holding him close to her body with such a fierce grip that it actually helped settle his stomach. She turned her gaze back to him, a determined look piercing through the fury that was still present in her eyes. “What if I get in with you?”
Henry choked on his breath, squeezing her shoulders hard. He shook his head a little, eyes watering. “I-” His voice was rough and horribly strangled, and it hurt so bad to speak that he wanted to scream. He remembered the way she’d flinched just from the water brushing her hand. “It’s… too hot-”
Patty shook her head softly, her voice just as strangled when she whispered, “I’d rather let myself burn than risk losing you, Henry Creel.”
Henry let out the saddest little laugh, though he knew that Patty wasn’t even sort of joking. He thought again of the match he’d put out so it wouldn’t hurt her. He’d risked losing himself then, using his powers though it really wasn’t safe, all so she wouldn’t be kissed by a flame. Now here she stood, offering to practically boil herself alive just so he wouldn’t be alone. It hit him harder than he thought it could, her clear and intense love for him, so much so that he could actually feel the monster’s grip on him weakening. It was like it didn’t know what to do with anything besides negativity. With the little control he’d regained of himself, he hugged Patty so tightly it made his arms tremble. She gasped at his sudden movement, but she didn’t hesitate to hug him back, holding him up when he didn’t have the strength to hold himself anymore.
He was sobbing again; scared out of his mind. Still, he cried, “I love you, Patty.”
“Oh, my Henry…” She cradled the back of his head and left a firm, warm kiss on his cheek. Her lips were soft and glossy and the feeling made him weak. Well, weaker. “I love you with every last bit of my soul. I get the feeling I always will.”
He couldn’t speak again, though because he was crying and not because the monster was stopping his voice. Patty hugged him for another minute, but then she moved carefully back.
“You ready?” she asked.
No, he thought, but he nodded anyway.
Patty stepped into the bathtub, her shoes kicked off and abandoned on the floor. She held Henry’s hands tightly, which was good because it grounded him enough to keep the monster from making him run. She shifted uncomfortably in the hot water, pain written all over her face. Henry nearly picked her up and carried her out of the tub himself, but she was already tugging him forward, helping him in, too. He was still wearing his clothes, plus her hat and sweater, because she thought he’d be warmer keeping them on, and the monster would want to leave quicker.
As soon as he stepped foot in the water, that feeling from earlier, the painful shocks running under his skin, came back tenfold through his whole body. He gasped, stumbling and gripping Patty’s arms to stop himself from getting out.
‘I’m sorry,” she was already rambling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” She cupped his face, pressing her forehead to his as he struggled to breathe. “I’m so sorry, Henry, we have to do this.”
He just nodded, panting shallowly. Speaking was out of the question, his mind getting foggy and dazed. All he could think was ow, ow, ow.
“Can you sit?” Patty asked.
It took him a long minute to remember what the word “sit” meant, but when it finally clicked, he realized it sounded nice to not have to stay on his feet anymore. He practically fell over, and Patty just barely caught him before he hurt himself. She lowered him slowly, sitting down with him and pulling him to rest between her legs, his back to her chest. He was relieved to not be standing, but the relief was temporary, because sitting down meant being even more covered in the scalding water. Henry shrieked, yanking his hands out of the water pooling around him. He scrambled to try and stand up without thinking too hard about it, just wanting this horrible pain to end.
“No!” Patty wrapped her arms around his torso and kept him where he was. “Don’t move!”
“It hurts!” he wailed.
“I know,” she choked. She might have been crying. “I know, I’m so sorry-”
“Let me out!”
“Not until it’s gone.”
“It’s never leaving!” Henry ranted. He ripped the stupid hat off his head and threw it to the side. “It’s never leaving, it’s never leaving-” He thrashed in her arms, tugging at his already tangled hair. “It’s never leaving! It’s never leaving!” He screamed, the monster not at all restraining him now. If anything, it was the monster yelling, not him. Henry clawed his nails down his face, trying to get out of this water, wanting to run outside and throw himself into the snow.
“Stop it,” Patty whispered. She grabbed his arms and held them down to his chest.
“Let go!”
“No!”
The water rose and rose, over his knees, up to his waist. It hurt. The heat seeped all the way down into his bones, and his blood felt like it was boiling. The screams spilling out of his throat were like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he was aware of the fact that he was yelling horrible things, probably at Patty, but he didn’t have a clue what they were. All he knew was that this must be what it felt like to die. He writhed in pain, but Patty was shockingly strong, and she kept him down, wrapping him up in her arms the way one would wrap a mental patient in a straitjacket. At that point, he might as well have been an escaped mental patient, the way he was acting. He was kicking and twitching, his body jerking this way and that against his will. He could have been crying too, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He just kept yelling and howling, and Patty kept whispering in his ear.
“I know. I know, shh. I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay.”
Henry wanted to focus on her voice. He wanted to melt into her and just drift away, just die like he was sure he was about to. But his body hurt too much for him to be able to just lock the pain up. The water, still entirely too hot, was up to his stomach now, and his soaking wet clothes were weighing him down, making him feel claustrophobic and intensifying his pain. Intensifying the anger of the monster. More disgusting, slimy words he didn’t recognize were coming out his mouth in the monster’s voice.
“Hey!” someone, Bob, yelled from the doorway of the bathroom. “Don’t talk to my sister like that! What’s wrong with you?” His voice was shaky and scared but upset.
Henry’s head snapped to look in Bob’s direction and he was sure he spit something nasty at the poor boy, just from the look on his face.
“It’s not him,” Patty explained. “It’s not his fault. Ignore it.”
“What are you talking about?” Bob walked over to the tub, heater held carefully in his arms. “Why is Henry screaming? Why did you want me to get this thing?”
“Is it still hot?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Plug it in.”
“Plug in the electric heater by the bathtub?”
“Yes, Bob, do it!”
“Patty, that’s going to hurt some-”
“Do it! Now!”
“Jeez! Fine!” Bob did as he was told, plugging the heater into the nearest outlet and setting it up on the bathroom counter, despite Henry’s monster shrieking at him to stop, to get it out of here, to get him out of here. Patty just wrapped her arm up to cup his cheek, holding his head in place, her own cheek pressed gently to his.
“Now close the door and shove some towels by the bottom,” she ordered her brother. “We need to trap heat in here.”
“Patty, tell me what’s happening!”
“Bob-”
“No! I’m not doing a single thing until you tell me what you’re doing to Henry!”
Patty let out a frustrated groan. “I’m trying to save him!”
“By what? Steaming him like a lobster? And from what?” Bob threw his hands up in confusion, then gasped. “Is he possessed?”
“Robert!” Patty screeched.
“Patricia!” he screeched back.
“Will you please just trust me here?” she pleaded. The desperation in her voice broke through Henry’s manic stupor just enough to make him sick, and the monster fed off that hurt, that pain in his heart. It got stronger, it fought harder, and he screamed so hard he could feel the blood vessels bursting in his eyes, his ears, his nose.
“Patty, he’s bleeding-!”
“I know, Bobby! Please close the door, it has to be hotter in here!”
Bob rushed over and shut the bathroom door, stuffing towels under it like she’d said to. “For the record, I think this is a very bad idea, Patty!”
“It’s the only way!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Henry managed to yell. Forcing himself to talk almost hurt more than the water did. “But it’s… not… enough!” He could feel the blood, or maybe tears, maybe both, trickling from his eyes and down his face. “Hotter!”
“Okay,” Patty said, shifting in the water to get in front of him. “But don’t try to talk anymore. Save your strength.” She cocked her head to the side briefly, resting her hands on his shoulders. “You’re gonna need it.”
Henry nodded, his muscles taught and cramping, especially in his throat.
Patty was practically on his lap now, telling Bob to move the heater closer. He said it wasn’t safe to have it so close to the water, but he moved it anyway, the heat boring down on Henry at full force now. He flinched away from it and Patty pulled him back into place. He struggled, feeling like he was burning from the inside out.
“It’s okay,” Patty comforted him. She wiped her fingers across his cheeks, his lips, his ears, probably swiping all the blood off him. Her hands were damp and soft, but he was in far too much distress to let his mind linger on her touch. “I know it hurts, and it’s about to get worse.” She cupped his cheeks, leaning in and kissing his mouth. “Remember I love you.”
Henry kissed her back half-heartedly, appreciating the affection as he always did, but thinking now was a strange time for a kiss. That was until Patty was pushing him down, submerging him up to his neck in the savagely hot water, and he realized she was trying to cushion him mentally for the torture to come. It worked for about half a second, and then he was screaming and fighting and sobbing that it hurt, trying to kick free from beneath her, trying to get away from the horrible water. The monster fought just as hard, making him hurt even worse, tearing at his insides and bringing up every bad thing he’d ever done, every bad thing he’d ever known, playing it on loop in his mind and probably spitting it out of his mouth like word vomit, too.
The lights in the bathroom started to flicker. Soft at first but then turning on and off and buzzing and crackling in such a violent manner that Henry could feel it in his chest. It was the monster messing with them, the monster hurting and trying to make them stop this, trying to scare them. A radio started playing loudly somewhere else in the house, flipping through channels of music and talk shows and static so rapidly there was no way to comprehend the sound. His ears rang and he screamed, covering them, trying to block the sounds, trying to stop the chaos.
“Turn up the heater!” Patty yelled, her voice muffled and distant. She grabbed Henry’s arms and shoved them back in the water.
“No!” he shrieked, sobbing harshly. His head jerked back and slammed against the ceramic tub. The heat on his face got more intense and so did the monster’s attempts to, at this point Henry could only assume, kill him. His head kept slamming against the tub, his skull vibrating with each impact.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Bob screamed. He reached out and grabbed Henry’s head, not letting him hit it anymore. “Patty, we have to stop!”
“Get me out of here!” the monster roared.
“Bob, you don’t understand what’s happening!” Patty screamed back. “And don’t block him from the heat!”
Bob scooted to press himself against the wall between the toilet and the bathtub, letting the heater that sat on the toilet seat continue its assault on Henry. He kept his hands on Henry’s head, holding him still though he fought to get out of his grip. “Then will you please explain?!”
“There’s a monster in him, Bob!” Patty finally gave in. “There’s a monster and it wants him cold, so if we get him hot enough, the monster has to leave. Right?” She looked from Bob to Henry, but neither one of them had an answer for her, and the look in her eyes made Henry think this was the first time she’d thought that her plan might not work. “Right?” she asked again, sounding more scared than he’d ever heard her.
But her plan was working. He knew it was, because he knew exactly what the monster was thinking, exactly what it was feeling, and it was going to die soon if it didn’t get away from this heat. Henry couldn’t tell Patty that, the monster wouldn’t let him, and it used a burst of its energy to fling Patty backwards so she couldn’t hold him down anymore. She screamed and smacked into the faucet, splashing the water so hard it spilled out of the tub. The monster tried to make Henry stand, tried to make a break for it while keeping its control of him, but Bob pushed him back down, holding him in place, and that was it. It could not fight anymore. It had to retreat.
The monster; the horrible thing that had been tormenting him since he was eight years old, the thing that made him hurt others, hurt himself, kill innocent animals, kill his family; up and left. It practically shot out of his body, through his mouth, his nose, and finally, finally, he was free.
Henry gasped, coughing and sputtering and feeling lighter than he had in a long time. The monster, looking like nothing more than a dark stormcloud, zipped around the room, screeching the way it always used to in his head, trying to run from the heat. It was just how he remembered it, the first time he saw it, back in that cave in Nevada. But he was older now, wiser, and stronger. He had more to care about, more to protect. He wanted that thing dead, out of his life forever. He glanced at Patty, who was staring at it in shock and awe, but the fury, the fire in her eyes had not withered even in the slightest, and he could tell. She wanted it dead, too.
Henry remembered something Dr. Brenner had told him, about how the monster had altered his DNA, and he wondered…
He stared at the still running water faucet a few feet away from him, and focused… It turned off. He laughed a little.
Patty glanced at him, then at the faucet, and back. She grinned. “You still have powers.”
Henry nodded, while Bob shrieked, “He has what?!”
His yell caught the attention of the monster, and it stopped its pacing for just a second before it dove for Bob.
“Bobby!” Patty screamed.
“No!” Henry yelled.
They both scrambled for Bob, and Henry threw his hand out, a burst of energy shooting from his fingers. It landed on the monster, stopping it dead in its tracks. Henry lost his breath, standing up slowly, working so hard to push the monster away from Bob that his nose started to bleed again. Patty and Bob sat frozen, staring in horror as the monster shrieked and tried to get out of the grip of his powers, struggling for only a few seconds before it broke free. It zipped towards the door, managing to slip through the tiniest crack between the door and the frame.
Henry gasped, dropping his hand and nearly falling on his face as he hurried out of the tub.
Patty was quickly doing the same, stumbling on the wet tile and gripping his arm to steady herself. He grabbed her by the waist until she was standing straight again, but then he was hurrying over to the door to yank it open, trying to find where the monster had gone.
“We can’t let it get away!” Patty said.
“We have to burn it,” Henry said. His voice was rough from his screaming, and it still was a pain to talk, though not as bad as when the monster was holding him back. “I can hold it down, but only for a few seconds.”
Patty put her hand on the breast pocket of her dress. “I still have matches.” She took them out and opened the box. “They didn’t get wet somehow.”
Bob came up behind them, grabbing something from the counter and handing it to Patty. Henry glanced over and saw it was a can of hairspray. Henry gave him a look of confusion, but Patty grinned again, and she and Bob said at the same time, “Flamethrower.”
Henry just nodded. It was a crazy idea, but what had he done lately that wasn’t a crazy idea? “Let’s slay this dragon,” he whispered, calling to mind Patty’s words from earlier that day, though it felt like a lifetime ago by now.
Patty took his hand and they headed out into the house, following the trail of flickering lights out into the foyer of the house, where the monster, clearly wounded and panicking, was rushing around in the air, trying to find a way out. Henry pulled Patty’s hand up and kissed her knuckles, but then he let her go, whispering, “You ready?”
Patty nodded, uncapping her hairspray and taking out a match. “As I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll hold it down, you…” He hesitated. This was insane and wildly dangerous. Should he even let her be a part of this…?
But Patty had already struck her match, and held it up in the monster’s direction, holding the hairspray right behind it. “Flamethrow,” she finished his sentence. “Just say when.”
“Patty, you don’t have to-”
“Henry, it’s coming at you!” Bob yelled from where he was hiding around a corner.
Henry jumped and when he turned his attention back to the monster, he saw that Bob was right. It was coming back, and it was going to try and capture him again. He threw his hand at it, making it freeze mid-air, and he screamed, “Now!”
Patty pressed down on the hairspray and it sprayed, catching the flame of the match and shooting just like a flamethrower, hitting the monster directly in its middle. It screeched and flailed and Henry could feel his grip on it starting to weaken. Even hurt, it was stronger than him, and it was about to get away. He threw his other hand out, trying to focus more energy on keeping it still, while Patty kept the flame burning on it. The lights flickered rapidly, bulbs shattering, sparking. The radio and television nearby did the same, the outlets on the walls starting to smoke. Henry didn’t know if that was his powers or the monster’s, but though the flame in Patty’s hands was not letting up, Henry was starting to.
“I can’t-” he strained to say “-hold it still much longer!”
“I’m sorry, I’m trying!” Patty yelled back. She stepped a little closer to the monster, the flame hitting it even harder. It wasn’t enough. It was helping, and it was awesome, but Patty’s hairspray flamethrower wasn’t enough to kill this thing.
Breathing so hard it made his ribs ache, Henry reached one hand slowly away from the monster and towards the direction of the bathroom. His whole body was already sore, but it was really starting to hurt now, and he knew it was this thing. It was using its own powers against him. It was trying to kill him like he’d killed so many.
It started with his fingers. It always started there. The pinky on his right hand snapped, breaking near his knuckle and then again near his nail. He cursed loudly, and Bob, who was on his right and probably saw his bones break, screamed, covering his mouth with his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Patty yelled. The screeching of the monster was so loud Henry doubted she’d been able to hear the break, though it had made a wet kind of crack.
“Henry’s-” Bob started, but by then Henry had managed to grab what he’d been reaching towards the bathroom for, and the heater flew around the corner and up to the level of the monster.
It wasn’t plugged in, obviously, but Henry used his powers to feed energy into it, and it got hot real fast. Both his hands were held towards the monster now, his right pinky sitting at a really unnerving angle. He heard Bob throwing up behind him, and the thumb on his left hand broke in much the same way, near the nail, the knuckle, but then also down into the palm of his hand. Patty saw it this time, and screamed like her brother had. The pain was awful, but not nearly as bad as the pain of trying to get this monster out of him had been, and not even holding a candle to the knowledge that this thing had destroyed his family, his life, and would surely to the same to whatever unfortunate soul it latched onto next if Henry didn’t kill it, right here, right now.
Though, because of course it would, Patty’s hairspray ran out. The flame stopped, and now it was only Henry fighting this thing.
“Shit, damn it!” Patty yelled. She shook the can vigorously but it rattled, clearly empty. “What do I do? I’m out of spray!”
“It’s fine-” Henry started, three more of his fingers breaking as he said it, the ring finger on each hand and his left pinky. He groaned, gritting his teeth so hard he thought he might break those, too. “I can… do this…”
“Henry, you have to stop, it’s not worth it anymore!” Patty cried.
“Yes it is!” he snapped back. He fed more and more energy into the heater, and it got so warm that the wooden shell caught on fire, and the glass lightbulbs started to melt. Somehow, maybe because of the leftover hairspray, the whole cloud of the monster caught on fire, too. It burned and shrieked and fought… and then it died. It fell to the floor in a smoldering pile of ashes, and Henry stared at it in disbelief, still panting as he held the burning heater in the air. The adrenaline coursing through his veins started to wear off, and he used the very last of his energy to open the front door with his mind, then throw the heater out into the snow so it wouldn’t catch Patty’s house on fire.
Panting, his head started to spin, and Henry collapsed to the floor, barely having a moment to realize how badly he was hurt before he finally passed out.
—
Henry walked up the front porch, stopping in front of the familiar stained glass rose on the door of his house. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the house looked like it had just gotten a fresh coat of the dark blue paint it always wore.
There was laughing inside, he could hear it from the porch. Giggling and fast footsteps, like someone was running or dancing around. The radio played his sister’s favorite song, and, just faintly, he could hear her voice singing along. She was off-key, she was always off-key, but she was happy. She was probably standing at the top of the staircase, leaning over the railing dramatically as she sang, wearing her nicest dress just for the sake of it.
Henry smiled a little. He rested his hand on the doorknob, hesitating for only a second before he stepped inside the house.
He had been right. Alice was at the very top of the stairs, twirling around, hopping down a step and then back up again, in her favorite blue dress. She looked like she belonged in Wonderland, beside a white rabbit in a waistcoat. She was grinning ear to ear, and when she spotted him, she skipped down to the first floor, still singing with the radio. When the song ended, she finally greeted him, seeming out of breath from all her running about.
“Hi, Henry!”
“Hi, Alice,” he laughed.
“Where were you?”
Henry shrugged. He couldn’t remember where he’d been. “I don’t know. Out, I guess.”
Alice put her hands on her hips. “Were you with that girl again? I thought Mom didn’t want you seeing her anymore.”
“Mom doesn’t get to control me,” he grumbled bitterly. “And I don’t remember where I was.”
Alice sighed, tapping her foot impatiently and then looking at her empty wrist as if there was a watch there; as if she had somewhere to be. “Well, I won’t tattle,” she said nobly, “but you better tell Mom you’re home. And tell her I’m going to the playground.”
“Okay,” Henry murmured. His stomach hurt at the thought of facing his mother, but he knew that, at some point, he had to. He stared off in the direction of the kitchen, where he heard her bustling around.
Alice opened the front door, gasping loudly after a moment. “Henry!” she called.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, and watched as she carefully picked something up from the porch, turning around slowly to show him the small, white bunny in her arms. It was perched against her chest, sniffing at her face and looking around curiously.
“It’s so cute!” Alice bubbled.
Henry smiled softly. “Glad you like it,” he whispered.
She just smiled back, then hopped across the street to the playground, setting the rabbit down in the grass so she could go down the slide. Henry sighed and closed the door, looking towards the kitchen again. He needed to do this. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, or easy, but it was important.
Quietly, he followed the sounds of footsteps and pans clattering, and the smell of that one casserole he hated, but his mother insisted on cooking anyway. He stopped just before he rounded the corner into the kitchen, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. He was sure she would be angry with him.
He thought about running away, maybe out to that stupid playground with his sister, or the woods beyond it, but he stepped into the kitchen before he had another moment to second-guess himself.
Virginia turned around as soon as he crossed the threshold of the room, and his chest tightened with panic. She threw her wooden spoon down into the saucepan on the stove, wiping her hands on her apron as she stormed over to him. “Henry Creel, where have you been?” she fumed, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes.
Henry wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and hit her and tell her to leave him alone, especially when she started rambling about how she knew he was with “that girl,” and how he needed to stop it before someone got hurt. She was absolutely furious with him, but all his own anger and trepidations had melted down into the heaviest guilt and loneliness he’d ever experienced, and all he could do was cry.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his mother’s waist, resting his head on her chest and fighting not to sob too loudly.
She stopped scolding him mid-sentence, freezing like she didn’t know how to respond to her own son hugging her. Henry could feel her heart racing, and he knew she was scared. Of him, of what he might do. He supposed she had every right to be so scared, he’d been making her life hell for a while now, but he didn’t have to do that anymore, nor did he want to.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
She was silent for a long moment, then grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back a step.
Henry stumbled, still holding her waist loosely and looking up into her eyes. The fury was still there, but it was hidden behind a heavy layer of fear. He shook his head a little. “Please don’t be scared of me-” he started.
“What did you do?” she cut in.
He stared at her for a second, his heart hammering like hers was. “What…?”
“What did you do?” she said louder, shaking him a little. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
“I…” He gulped. He stood there and searched her eyes, trying to understand what she meant, when finally he realized she didn’t know. She didn’t know he’d killed her. She didn’t remember. He supposed she wouldn’t remember dying, it had been quick despite its brutality.
Virginia gasped. “Where’s Alice?”
“Mom-”
“Henry, where is my child?”
The way she said that… as if Henry wasn’t her child, too. He let go of her and took another step back, wiping the tears from his face. “She’s fine,” he choked. “She’s just at the playground.”
Virginia relaxed visibly, putting her hand on her forehead and closing her eyes. “Oh, thank God.”
Henry stared at the ground. He didn’t want to stay in the room with her, but he didn’t want to leave either. He missed his Mom. He missed the days when she didn’t hate him. “Sorry,” he said again.
She sighed. “Henry…” She held his chin again, softer this time. He melted into her hand, soaking up the familiar sweetness of her perfume. She didn’t say anything more, but she pulled him back into a hug and that was all he really needed.
“I love you,” he murmured, and he realized it had been a long time since he said that to her. Every time she’d said it to him the past few years, it had felt forced, like she was lying, and so he’d never said it back. But when she whispered it now, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, he finally felt like she meant it.
His eyes fluttered open, but he wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. He wasn’t even in his house. He was laying on a couch, and his mother was gone.
Groggily, he tried to sit up, yelping in pain when he put pressure on his hands. He fell back against the armrest of the couch again, looking down at his hands. They were partially wrapped up in gauze and medical tape, and when he looked at them for another moment he realized the parts of his hands that were bandaged were the parts that his monster had broken. They ached, throbbing dully, and he let them rest on his lap, using his elbows to prop himself up.
He looked around and realized he was in Patty’s living room, a fire roaring in the fireplace a few feet away. He had a blanket over him, and he was warm, but the warmth wasn’t painful anymore. He took a deep, shaky breath, still feeling exhausted despite the fact that he must have been asleep until moments ago.
He glanced to the side and spotted Patty curled up in an armchair, her knees tucked up to her chest and her head resting against the cushion on the chair. She looked cold, and the skirt of her dress was still damp. He realized that he was wearing fresh, dry clothes, probably some of Bob’s, and he wondered why Patty hadn’t changed into something dry, too.
“Patty?” he croaked, his voice scratchy and his throat sore.
She didn’t stir, and so he rested his head against the couch like she did, just watching her breathe. Though, the more he watched her, the more he noticed how she shivered, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she couldn’t warm up.
Shakily, he sat up again, slowly getting to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he managed to not fall over, and he carefully scooped the blanket he’d been under into his arms. The movement kicked up the pain in his broken limbs again, but he’d rather be a little hurt than let Patty get sick from being cold. Though, now that he thought about it, she was never going to get warm if her clothes were still wet. She’d probably be more comfortable sleeping in her own bed, too. He realized she hadn’t slept in her own bed for a little over a week now, and he felt guilty for taking it from her.
He tossed the blanket back on the couch, then walked over and crouched beside her, resting the least broken of his hands on top of hers, rubbing his thumb gently against her. “Patty?” he murmured again, leaning down to kiss the back of her hand.
Patty hummed, opening her eyes but then flinching like the light in the room hurt. None of the lights were on, they’d all been busted during the fight, but the sun was shining through a window onto her face. Henry stood up and blocked the light with his body, feeling kind of dizzy from getting up so fast.
Patty jumped when he stood, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Henry, you shouldn’t be up-” She sat up straight, putting her feet on the floor and then flinching again. The wood was probably cold.
“Your dress is still damp,” he whispered.
“Yeah, I…” She shook her head. “Forget about it. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s exactly what you told me when there was a monster living in your head.” She glared at him. “I don’t trust your ‘I’m fine’ anymore.” She put airquotes around the words. She sighed a little and gently took his hands. “Not that I ever did… Do your hands hurt too bad?” She was talking fast, her voice shaking, the way she always did when something was really bothering her.
“Patty…”
“I didn’t want to give you any medicine when you weren’t awake, but we do have painkillers in the kitchen-”
“Patty-”
“And then I changed your clothes because I didn’t want you to get sick, and I tried to keep you as warm as I could but I don’t know-”
“Patty!”
“What?” She snapped her gaze away from his hands, finally meeting his eyes. Her own eyes were bloodshot and watery, tears falling down her cheeks. “What?” she repeated, softer.
Henry cradled her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with the one thumb that wasn’t broken. “I’m okay,” he rasped. “You saved me.” He laughed a little. “Again.”
“I thought-” She choked on the words, running her hands softly up his arms and then back down again. She fidgeted with the buttons on the sleeves of the long shirt he was wearing, undoing them only to button them once more. Hot tears were falling rapidly from her beautiful, brown eyes, and Henry continued to wipe them away, letting her adjust his sleeves this way and that even though there was nothing wrong with them. “I thought I was gonna lose you. When it… broke your fingers-” She winced, leaning slightly into the palm of his hand. “I thought you were gonna die, Henry.”
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry I scared you, and that you’ve been having to deal with me-”
“No, I’m not mad at you!” she cut in anxiously. “Henry, I’m not mad. I just… I love you.”
He huffed, relaxing slightly. “Sorry anyway.”
Patty shook her head. “You apologize too much, sweetheart.”
“I don’t think I could ever apologize enough to make it right,” he said, voice cracking.
She kissed his palm. “None of this is your fault. It never was.” But she shivered again and suddenly he didn’t really care about anything else.
“You’re gonna get sick,” he worried. “You need dry clothes.”
She chuckled, giving him the most gentle, loving smile he’d ever seen. “I’m fine,” she said teasingly.
He wrinkled his nose, trying not to laugh, and took a slight step back so she could stand up, holding out his hands instinctively to try and help her, before remembering they were pretty badly broken. He held them out anyway, and after she’d already stood, she held them gently, stepping closer to him and guiding his poor, broken hands to rest on her waist. Then she hooked her arms loosely around his neck, biting her bottom lip and glancing a few times at his lips.
“And I said, Henry Creel," she murmured, “that I love you.”
Heat rushed to his face, and he was breathing like a wounded animal, eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and back. “I… I love you, too,” he stammered, his voice squeakier than he would have liked it to be. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because Patty was kissing his mouth, and he was wrapping his arms around her back, pulling her closer, nearly falling over when she ran her fingers into his hair. Her mouth was so warm, so soft and familiar, her lips fitting against his like the two of them had been made just for each other. He ran his hand gently across her jaw and down the side of her neck, smiling when the touch made her hum. She smiled back, and tugged him by the hair to kiss her deeper.
Henry didn’t know if he believed in soulmates, in lifetimes extending past the ones they had now, but if that was true, if soulmates were real, Patty was his, and in every world, every universe from here on out, he vowed to find her again, to love her like she deserved, and be hers for as long as she could possibly want him to be.