Young Writers Society

I'm here. But why?

Nothing on the lawn moved. The warm air felt still, and the sun clung over the horizon as if it had ceased to fall.

The house's two stories towered over Timothy. Excessive, he thought, I hate it. He limped closer to the aged, wooden front door and knocked. It echoed through the empty home.

No answer.

Maybe I should have called?

He pressed the doorbell. It rung slow, almost endless. He heard beeps; click. A lock. The door creaked open. Tim leaned his weight on one leg. He cleared his throat and strained to smile.

"Hello, Lynn...I love your new place."

"Back in town already?" Jocelyn mumbled with a yawn. "I know it’s a visitation day, but I didn’t think your tour would end this soon."

She noticed? His smile weakened. “We skipped over the last few cities.”

She gave a short nod and opened the door. He stepped in and she activated the alarm system. He limped after her through spacious, bare hallways. The guitar case slung over his shoulder hit the door frame as they entered the living room. Crammed cardboard boxes littered the edges of the room. A widescreen TV was mounted to one of the beige walls, blaring bright and flashy cartoons. Jocelyn turned the volume down.

"Stephanie's asleep," she said.

Stephanie’s small arms clung to a tablet and her hair was sprawled over the couch's edge. She wore a long sleeved shirt, embroidered with cartoon animals. He propped his guitar case against the couch and sat beside where her head lay.

Of course, he thought, I’m here to see her.

He caressed her dirty blonde hair. She probably doesn’t need me, though. Lynn’s fine without me too.

"You can wake her if you'd like." Jocelyn settled into the recliner beside the couch. "She knows today is one of your visitation days."

"I think I'll give her a few more minutes." he paused for some long moments. "How's work?"

She shrugged. "The usual."

"You don't look like you've been sleeping."

"Don't worry about it."

"I saw the recent episode. The concept for the show seems like it's gotten stale."

"Says you," she smirked, crossing her arms. "The ratings are still high."

"I liked your original concept better. It had more depth."

"Depth doesn't sell."

He examined the room. It was large, and the floors paved in glossy porcelain tile. Luxurious, large windows leaked dim sunlight into the room, and a chandelier hung above. Tim rubbed the tip of his long, flared nose. Jocelyn recognized he was nervous.

"Care to show me around?" Tim asked, adjusting metal-framed glasses which had slid down the shaft of his nose.

"Sure."

Tim limped as fast as he could behind Jocelyn's strong strides. Most rooms were unfurnished. Jocelyn's room only contained her bed and a dresser. They arrived to Jocelyn's office; a desk was set up against the window, and a laptop in hibernation mode sat on top of scattered papers. There were two bookshelves near the door, packed tight and alphabetically shelved. Abstract paintings were aligned on the walls.

"Jeez, Lynn," Tim chuckled. "What about your bedroom? And Steph's?"

"I haven't had time to unpack." she replied.

So she says, he thought, but she had time for her office?

She leaned over her desk to sort loose papers. Bits of her bright blonde hair fell away from her bun. He eyed her up and down, before stopping at the glimmer of her wedding ring. He knew they were separated and it seemed that they were heading toward divorce. He'd been convinced it was over between them. Yet with her in front of him, it was hard to accept. He hid his limp under long, swift steps, and gently held her wrists. She dropped the papers and faced him.

"Tim—" she was irked, but soon her familiar form sunk into his arms. In-between each kiss, he saw her high cheekbones, her green eyes, and her dark, shapely eyebrows. His calloused fingertips ran through her hair. They kissed until she lifted her hands to unbutton his dress shirt.

He panicked and grabbed her hands. My scars, he recalled. They're fresh.

She pulled her hands away and continued to unbutton his shirt, but he stopped her again.

"What are you doing?" Jocelyn's voice raised. "You're the one who wanted this."

"Um," he said, blushing. How could he admit he tried to end it? "Well, maybe we shouldn't—"

She went back to unbuttoning his shirt and kissed his neck.

“Lynn...I said no,” he mumbled. His thoughts whirled. If she sees them, she'll think I'm pathetic. What should I—

A crash sounded from the other end of the room, and a rush of cold air hit the back of Tim's neck. He whirled around. The books at the top of the bookshelf had fallen to the floor all at once.

He laughed awkwardly, his heart bursting in his chest. "You fit too many books into the bookshelves."

Jocelyn's eyes widened, and her skin turned several shades paler. She ran past Tim and down the stairs. He hurried after her, as fast as his bad leg would allow him.

"Lynn?" he called as he followed, buttoning his shirt. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Stephanie sat up on the couch. Her arms were outstretched, and she held her tablet out in photo mode. She spun around, flinching at her mother’s approach. When she saw Tim at the stairwell, she dropped her tablet.

"Daddy!" The girl shrieked with laughter. "Dad! You're back from your big tour!"

She jumped, nearly toppling him over. He regained his balance, reminding her of his bad leg, but she didn't understand in her excitement. Jocelyn stood near the couch, her arms crossed and her eyes fearful.

"Do I get to stay with you today?" Stephanie said. "Do I?"

"Of course." Tim patted her head. "Just run and get the bags your mother packed for you."

Stephanie nodded and rushed up the stairs. Tim placed his hand around Jocelyn's arm.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something weird about this house," she mumbled. "I saw that man again. In one of the hallways.”

Tim recalled she had phoned him before his tour, claiming to have seen a man in the house. He suggested she call the authorities, but they found nobody in or around the property.

"It was the same man?" Tim said, concerned.

"Yes, he even wore the same clothes. I turned my head to look for Stephanie, but then he was gone. I searched the rooms, and I didn’t find him. The security system was active, so nobody could have gotten in."

Tim pressed his thumb and index finger to the center of his forehead. "I don't know, Lynn. The police didn’t find anyone. I think you could use some rest, you're overworked."

"But I feel like I'm being watched. Last week, I felt eyes on me. Then, one of the cabinets in the kitchen nearly fell on me, with everything still inside."

"Isn't that because you didn't stabilize it?"

Her lips pursed. She remained silent for a few moments. "I need to meet a deadline. Will you take Stephanie for a few days?"

"Um..." Tim rubbed his nose. "I suppose I can."

She nodded and left the room for a minute, returning with her wallet. Tim shook his head.

"Don't bother, Lynn. I can—"

"Just take it." Jocelyn pushed the bills into his hands. He tried to hand them back, but she slipped the Benjamins into his rear pocket.

******

The interior of Tim's one-bedroom apartment was cramped. He turned cartoons on for Stephanie, but she didn't watch them. Tim sat on the couch and she bounced around his guitar collection, enthralled.

"How many people were at your show?"

"There was a bit of a crowd," He dug nails through messy black hair, reflecting; not many. "I went around to a few of the bigger cities nearby."

"Wow! Did they clap at the end?"

"Yes, they seemed to like it."

"That's so cool."

She skipped over to the acoustic guitar and plucked the strings. He watched apprehensively. It was hard to believe she was here with him.

I’m a fool.I wanted to give up three weeks ago, I couldn’t even finish my tour. And now I’m here with Steph?

And if he had succeeded, what then? Certainly he wouldn’t be there with Stephanie.

"How's school, Steph?” Tim said quietly. “I know this is a big year for you; Kindergarten."

"It’s super fun! I made four new friends. Wanna see?"

"Of course."

She climbed onto the couch and dug her tablet out of her bag. With a technological rigor far more advanced than Tim's, she unlocked the tablet and touched into her photo gallery. She flicked through, and arrived at a photo taken on campus. After hours? Tim assumed. There were a few other students around her, trying to fit into the shot.

"That's Tiffany," Stephanie pointed them out as she handed the tablet to her father. "And that's Carlos, and Ryan, and David in the back."

She detailed them briefly. He grinned and swiped through a few more pictures. She climbed down from the couch. Curiously, he continued to swipe through the pictures. They were childish: selfies, her friends, her mother working, her toys and new room. He stopped at a picture of someone he didn't recognize.

It was of a man standing across Jocelyn's living room in a suit and tie. But Tim couldn’t quite make out his face. Anger swelled inside Tim’s chest. Was he someone from Jocelyn's job? But, what was he doing there? Tim rubbed his nose. Jocelyn couldn't have been seeing anyone else because of how busy she was. He tapped the screen, searching for the picture's date and time. It had been taken that day. He processed the time stamp on the picture—yes, it had been taken the same time he had been in the house with Jocelyn. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and turned the picture towards Stephanie.

"Hey, Steph? Who's this man?"

Stephanie flipped around. "Um...well..."

"It's okay to tell me," he said. "I won't get mad."

"He's a friend."

"One of your mother's friends?"

"No. Mom can't see him."

"What?"

"He's my friend, not hers."

Jocelyn's earlier comment hit him. She had claimed to see a man who vanished a moment later. Was this the same man? The man in the picture was a little faded, but Tim thought Stephanie edited it with one of her Apps. Befuddled and agitated, he tapped the tablet off and tossed it to the other side of the couch.

******

Stephanie wouldn't budge on taking a bath until Tim offered to rinse her hair for her. He ran the tub and went to fetch towels while she hopped in. She said her mother had let her go several days without bathing, and Tim scoffed. He envisioned Jocelyn doing whatever she could to manage more working hours.

He sat on the toilet lid. Stephanie hummed, splashing bubbly water back and forth. A few of her bath toys were afloat. She claimed she was too old for them, but Tim included them anyway.

He lathered the washcloth and washed her down. As he turned her around, he saw markings on her arm. He leaned closer. Bruising in the shape of a hand wrapped around her upper arm. It was too large to be the hand of another child. There was a line across one of the fingers that was bruised more heavily than the rest of the area. A ring? Surprised, he gently scrubbed the area, compiling his thoughts.

"Your sleeves are wet, Dad."

A prideful expression wrinkled Stephanie's tiny nose as she rolled one of his cuffs up. He swiped his arms from her reach.

"Don't worry about it, Steph." he said sternly, hiding his under arm to unfold his sleeve. He felt nauseous and ashamed, but forced his memories away, rubbing her back with the soapy washcloth.

"What's that bruise on your arm from?" he asked.

Stephanie lifted up one of the bath toys, gazing downward. The bruise didn't look recent to Tim.

"Who bruised your arm, Steph? You can tell me."

"It was the man."

"The one in the picture?"

She splashed her toys around, silent again.

Tim stared at the bruise. If it had been the man in the picture, wouldn't the mark be bigger?

"I thought he was your friend,” Tim said. ”Friends don't hurt each other."

She opened her mouth, but didn't reply.

"Steph, don't lie to me. Who did this?"

"I told you, already!" she shouted. "Leave me alone!"

His heart crumbled. He washed her hair, dried her off, and put her to bed.

******

After dropping Stephanie off for school, Tim was back at Jocelyn's house.

It’s creepier than I remember, he reflected. The dark exterior complimented the aged wood. Spanish moss hung from dusty, wide windows. Bare branches surrounded the house like a spider’s web.

He rung the bell. It rang for a moment before the lock turned with a click. His heart skipped a beat. She’s already at the door? How--

He heard the security system shut off.

"Lynn?" Tim called. "It's just me, Lynn. You didn't pick up your phone, so..."

No answer.

He reached for the handle, and opened the door a crack. "Lynn?"

There was no one at the door or in the hallway. He entered and shut the door behind him. The entrance-way was ice cold. He reached the hall and the temperature normalized. What’s going on?

He limped into the living room. The television was on the same channel as the evening previous, softly looping cartoons.

"Jocelyn?" his nerves were shot and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. She has to be here, I saw her car.

He edged up the stairs, turning the corner into Jocelyn's office. She asleep over her desk. He moved behind her, and shook her gently. "Lynn?"

She jolted up in her seat and whirled her chair around, clutching her chest.

"Tim?" she gasped, catching her breath. "Don't scare me like that! What are you doing here?"

She gasped and wheeled back around, checking the time.

"Oh, no," she groaned. "I'm really late. I've got to go!"

She flicked the mouse of her laptop and sent a document to the printer beside her, where it began to churn paper.

"These nightmares," Jocelyn grumbled, head in her hands. "They've been keeping me awake. I don't know what to do!"

Tim cleared his throat and said, "Listen, Lynn. We need to talk about something."

"Not now, Tim."

"This is important. I've already called our attorney."

She spun around to face him. "What for?"

"I don't want Steph here."

"Why—"

"I know you're hurting her, Lynn. I saw marks."

Jocelyn pursed her lips. The printer continued to hum. Her eyebrows furrowed and she scowled.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tim. I wouldn't do that. Have you contacted the school?"

"I have. Her teacher noticed she was wearing long sleeves in this hot weather. I took a few pictures of the bruises this morning," he held up his phone. "If you'd like to see them, you can. But I think you already know."

It took her several moments to reach out her hand. "Show me."

He opened his photos, pulling up several more suspicious marks besides the one on Stephanie's arm. He handed her the phone. Her thumb hit the top corner of the screen, and the first picture vanished. Then, the second.

She’s deleting them.

He grabbed the phone and snapped, "Stop it, Lynn!"

She stood. "You're trying to steal custody, aren't you? You just want her to yourself, don't you?"

Tim stepped backwards. "Jocelyn, calm down. I just want what's—"

Jocelyn reached for the phone in Tim's hand, but he pulled away. When she grabbed for it again, he took several steps backwards, and shifted his arm behind him. She wound up with a handful of his shirt. He yanked himself away, and she nabbed him by the wrist. The pain from her claw-like grip almost caused him to drop the phone. Her nails and ring pierced into his skin.

He freed himself and stumbled on his pained leg. He fell out of the room and hit the floor. His glasses flew from his face and his phone clattered against the tile.

Jocelyn reached the doorstep. A whisk of cold air passed Tim, and the door slammed shut.

Jocelyn turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn't budge. She slammed her fists against the other side.

"Let me out, Tim!" she shouted. "You can't shut me in here! Get off the door!"

With shaking hands, Tim snatched his phone; a crack ran down the screen. He put his glasses on, and they sat angled. He gazed up at the door once more.

Something’s helping him--had helped him, again and again

He picked himself up and wobbled down the stairs. Jocelyn's screams pierced the empty house.