What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter thirty-two

A/N: Sad tune for a sad chapter 😢😢 Sorry not sorry.

"Evangeline, there was... there was an accident."

"Wh-what kind of accident?" I ask, my lip quivering.

"Your mom...." Ambrose shakes his head before bringing his fingertips to his temple.

"Where is my mom?" I whisper.

Tears stream down his face. I've never seen a grown man cry before.

"Your mom is in the hospital," he finally says. "She... she took some pills." Sniffling, he adds, "I'm so sorry, Evangeline, but it doesn't look good."

"Is she gonna die?"

"I don't know. I hope not."

I cover my face before the tears fall. I don't want him to see me cry.

"Wh-what's gonna happen to me?" I sob. "Who's gonna take care of me?"

"Someone amazing," he says. "I'll see to it personally."

"I don't have a dad. I don't have anyone!" I continue to weep. "It was just Mommy and me. I'm all alone now."

"I promise, Evangeline, no matter what happens to your mom, I'll make sure that you're never alone."

When I open my eyes, I'm greeted by a pitch black room and a throbbing headache.

I blink a few times, allowing my pupils to adjust to the lack of light. I realize I'm lying on a musty-smelling bed. The space around me is tiny, with very little furniture and only one door and one window.

The motel! I'm in a motel room.

It all comes back to me: running out of Rem's car, hiding from the police, seeing Clem's face in the window, racing against the clock to get to her.

"Clem?" I call out. "Clem, are you here?"

"I'm in here!"

I leap off the bed and follow the voice. In the dark, I locate the bathroom door, which has a chair wedged beneath the knob. I push it aside and turn the handle, allowing a frightened Clementine to fall into my arms.

"Oh, my god," I whisper. "It's really you."

I hold her tightly as she sobs against my chest. I stroke her frizzy curls, which are no longer bright orange. Instead, they're a dull shade of brown.

"He dyed my hair," she cries. "He didn't want me to look like me anymore."

Benson. That prick is still here.

"Where's he hiding?" I ask my sister. "The police are outside. He's gotta be in here." I turn on the light and begin to search the room. "Benson! Where the fuck are you?"

"I don't know," Clem answers. "After he hit you, he locked me in the bathroom."

"He hit me?"

"With a bible."

"Is nothing sacred anymore?" I shake my head, causing the stabbing sensation to return. "How long was I out for?"

"Only a few minutes, I think," she replies.

"Let's just get out of here, okay? The cops will find—"

"Vange, behind you!"

I whirl around to see none other than Benson crawling out from beneath the twin-sized bed. His normally clean face is unshaven, his pupils the size of pinpoints as he stares us down.