(Read part one here.)
TW: BODY HORROR
I stared at the…thing sitting in front of me.
At first glance, you could very easily mistake him - it - for my brother. They had the same bed of dark brown curls that fell just above their lashes. The same dimple on the right cheek, same deep hazel eyes hooded by thick brows. When it smiled, it even had the gap between its two front teeth. It was dressed, however, in all white, as if just leaving a church service or a cult. Its pupils pierced right through me like I wasn’t there.
And when it talked? Good fucking god, when it talked…
You know how bodies look at open-casket funerals? They look so peaceful, like they’re forever in a deep slumber. Yet you know they’re dead, no matter how much makeup and attention to detail went towards crafting their appearance. You know there’s no life there, nothing stirring under the skin and bones. They weren’t the person you once knew - just a body prolonging its rot. A bit paler, a bit colder, and entirely still.
Now imagine seeing that corpse move. See it try to talk despite the rigor mortis that settled in its muscles. Words didn’t belong inside its mouth as it formed them. It was so hard to describe, but I knew in my core everything about this thing was vehemently, fundamentally wrong.
I didn’t appear to be the only one who thought that way, as suddenly I noticed my sister clasp my hand so tight she could’ve broken it had she been stronger. I looked down to her. She was shaking like a leaf. She’d peed her pants and didn’t even notice, eyes fixed on the imitation of Riley sat atop the chair like a falcon perched upon a branch, locked on its prey. It felt like if we made any sudden move, the thing would pounce and rip our throats out our necks. Instead, it slowly stood and outstretched its arms, seemingly waiting for some kind of embrace.
There was no way in hell I wanted to get near that thing, but with everyone’s eyes watching us, and my sister waiting fearfully by my side for some kind of direction, I decided to swallow hard and play along. For now.
I took a few steps forward and put on the best fake smile I could muster. I opened my arms wide and let it wrap its appendages around my frame, limp and alien. It made room for Julia to join, who did so like she was being held at gunpoint.
I noticed, as it pressed its body against me, that it didn’t appear to be breathing. There was no warmth to its skin, no soul lingering within. My parents watched us with saccharine smiles, as if they’d never seen anything sweeter than a meat puppet of their son do its best to embrace their two horrified daughters.
Finally, after what felt like years, the hug was over and we were dismissed. Mom chided with Julia over her pants, laughing. “Don’t you think you’re a bit too old for this?” She chuckled. Julia said nothing, just stared at the floor.
“Come on, Jules. Let’s get changed.” I offered a hand, and she took it all too eagerly. Mom caught wind of Jules’ desperation and suddenly sunk her nails into her shoulder. Despite the smile never faltering from her face, her eyes narrowed, laced with venom.
“Are you trying to take my daughter away from me?” She asked, shooting daggers.
“Sarah, don’t start.” Dad dismissed her nonchalantly. “Riley’s finally back. Let’s have a good day today.”
Mom scoffed and shoved Julia into me. “Fine. Let the bitch take care of it. I don’t care.”
Something in me broke just then. Something I’d been keeping at bay these past miserable weeks. I don’t know what death wish I had, but I found myself swinging my fist to my mother’s face. My wrist was caught mid-air by Not-Riley, with Spider-Man like reflexes. The room held its breath as he kept my wrist in a firm grip, staring deeply into my eyes.
“Now now, Beth.” He spoke, calm and steady. “Mommy didn’t mean that.” Then, turning to her, he added. “Right? You didn’t mean it, right Mom?”
Something about the way he spoke to her changed her mood. Her sour look of hatred faded away and she was back to looking happy and content.
“Of course not, baby girl.” She cooed at me. “I love you more than anything.”
I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. The back and forth, the mind games. I just wanted it all to end so, so badly. But I let her kiss my forehead as if the very act didn’t repulse me, and I walked slowly towards the bathroom, trying not to appear as though I was in a rush to be anywhere but around them.
As I help Julia clean her leg with a wet washcloth and pull on a clean pair of jeans, she grabs a piece of my hair and tugs it ever so gently, her way of getting my attention when I’m lost in thought. I look to her and see that she looks so tired, more tired than any eight year old should, but there’s a flicker of hope in her eyes.
“What?” I ask quietly, not knowing if our conversation could be heard. She leans in and begins to whisper in my ear.
“We need to find the real Riley and leave.”
“You mean run away?” I clarify. She nods. I look to the door, imaging Not-Riley lurking around somewhere in our home.
“You don’t think that’s him?” I ask, half-joking, and Julia gives me an incredulous look that makes me smirk.
“I think that’s a robot.” She began, fully confident in her hunch. “And Dad’s been building him in the basement this whole time.”
I shook my head with a laugh, dismissing her wild theory, but then I lingered on something she mentioned. The basement. It was weird Dad spent so much time down there. Once, it used to house a spare couch and box tv that Dad would call his “man-cave.” He snuck down there when Julia was littler to watch the football game or get some peace and quiet.
Then it got full of junk and was seldom used, until not too long ago. I came home one day from school to find Dad hauling all kinds of stuff out of there. I tried to go down and investigate myself, but he forbade me, saying he was doing repairs and it was dangerous. He said something about wires and water damage, and got back to work. I decided to drop it, as I had homework to do and already lost interest.
Since then, he’s only ever gone down a few random times. Riley being gone is the most he’s stayed since the man-cave days. And I had a suspicion that wasn’t purely coincidental.
When it was time to leave the bathroom, I peered down the hallway through the door, barely opening it more than a crack. When the cost was clear, I led Julia to her bedroom.
“I’ll be back.” I told her, and sauntered over to Riley’s bedroom. I’d been in there a couple times when no one was looking, hoping I’d find some kind of note or clue as to where Riley has gone. But now I was looking for something specific, so I entered and made my way immediately to his desk drawers.
“So,” A voice - it’s voice - began, making me jump with a shriek. It was sitting on the foot of his bed, watching me curiously. “Mom’s birthday is coming up. Did you get her a card yet?” I tried to play it off and put a hand on my shoulder.
“No yet.” I answered. “But I will.”
“Mmhmm.” He replied. “Why are you in here?”
“Well,” I began, trying to find an excuse.
“Is it the weed?” The thing stood, making me take a step back, where my backside immediately made contact with the desk’s sharp corner.
“What?” I asked, feeling alarmed.
“The weed. He had weed in his backpack before he got caught, but I think there’s more in here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “He?” I asked.
“You’re too young to be doing that kind of stuff.” It dismissed me, cocking its head to the side. “But you seem to be the rebellious type.”
“You’ve pegged me all wrong.” I reply, trying to add distance to us and making sure it doesn’t block my way towards the door. “I’m too much of a scaredy cat to break the rules.”
“Ah, but you have that look in your eye.” It stepped closer. “Restless. Determined. Furious, even. I mean,” It looked around and laughed. “That punch? Your form was wrong, sure, but you can’t deny the intensity behind it.”
I gave him a once over and swallowed hard. “Who exactly are you?” I asked, my heart racing in my chest.
“Today, I’m Riley.” It replied, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “That’s all that matters for now.”
I should’ve left then, but I couldn’t help myself. “Just one more thing,” I began, dropping my shoulders. “Please.” It gave me a look that told me to continue. “Is Riley safe?” I asked.
It flashed a Cheshire smile, as if amused with itself. “That depends. Are you?”
That Saturday comprised of much of the same things: staying exclusively in Julia’s room or mine, avoiding everyone, doing what we could to distract ourselves from everything. I held Riley’s pocket knife in my hands, which I snatched while Not-Riley wasn’t looking. I didn’t think it’d do much in terms of self defense, especially not in my clumsy hands, but it was comforting.
I’d been struggling nonstop about my feelings, specifically towards my parents. I loved them immensely. That wasn’t easy to shut off. I’d argue that I still love them, even as I write this ten years later. But who I loved was nothing more than a smoke screen - a lie spoon fed to me who had no reason to suspect otherwise. Riley saw the truth. And I had barely scratched the surface.
I just wish he wouldn’t let himself get taken. How could he leave me and Julia behind? How could he let this happen, left sentencing for ourselves?? He was only 15, only a kid same as I, but I needed him more than ever and he wasn’t there. I wanted to resent him for that, but I couldn’t. Resentment wasn’t going to help me anyway. I needed answers, and a safe way for Julia and I to get out of there.
I waited until 11pm that night, long after I should’ve gone to bed. I tucked the knife into my back pocket and opened my door as quietly as I could, doing it in increments so it wouldn’t creak. I tiptoed through the halls, doing my best to navigate without light, and made my way to the basement stairs. I snuck down them one at a time, but froze on the second to last step. Voices could be heard from the other side. I decided to get up against the door and put my ear to it.
I could barely make out the muffled voice of my father, mid rant. He must have started to walk closer to the door, because his voice got clearer. “-like this so much. This isn’t a game, Yusuf.”
“I know.” Said a second voice, unmistakably Not-Riley. Only there was an inflection there I hadn’t noticed before, some semblance of an accent I couldn’t place.
“You think I’ve been having fun in this body? It fucking sucks.”
“What was I supposed to do? The neighbors are asking questions. The kids are clearly distressed. I had to do something in the interim.”
“And you think they‘ll buy it?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just play your part and you’ll be back to your life in no time.” Not-Riley sighed.
“One more thing, Strauss.” I’d never heard that name before. Was it some kind of nickname, like Yusuf?
My dad groaned. “Make it quick.”
“I was thinking of reformatting soon,” Not-Riley began. “Shedding my old skin for something younger.“
“Ok. And?” A pause. Then Not-Riley cleared its throat.
“How long until you think Bethany is ready?”
I tensed.
“You want her? Why?” My Dad asked.
“Have you seen her? Any one of us would be lucky to have a skin like hers.”
I gasped - a fatal mistake.
There was no doubt they heard it. I could hear them freeze behind the door, realizing they’ve been caught, and suddenly I was running up the basement stairs and racing to my sister’s bedroom. We were in danger.
I wanted to make a better plan, a safer one, but we couldn’t stay here any longer. Julia and I had to leave, now. I had my hand on the door handle, ready to push it open, but I was grabbed from behind.
One hand pinned my arms behind my back, the other held a palm over my mouth. I look to find my father, a stern face plastered on his features. I keep thinking to myself how he’s going to kill me, oh god oh god he’s going to KILL me, and I do the best I can to get free from his grasp. I bite his fingers so hard my teeth touch bone, but he doesn’t even flinch. I kick and squirm, but he’s unyielding. I stop only once I to register the taste in my mouth, from what I thought was his blood. It’s sour and acidic and reminds me of bile.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” He whispers in my ear, leading me away from Julia’s door. Slowly, we back up into the kitchen, where a light has been turned on. He lets go, motions for me to sit, and knowing I can’t overpower him, I concede. Then, he shows me his hand.
“I hate this stuff, too. But it’s necessary to keep the pieces together.” He explains, as I watch his damaged finger. I was wrong about there being bone. All I can see before me, under the skin where meat and bone should be, are thousands of small, black tendrils, squirming like worms.