The Understorey

“You think you’re so clever,” I said.



“What are you talking about Elliott Gray?” She smiled as she kissed my palm and brought her face closer to mine.



As she did this, she slid her hand along my forearm and a stinging prickle of heat followed each slight movement of her hand. I forgot about the gift completely, it was easy to get swept up into Jules. I readied myself for an hour of kissing that would light up the rock bridge like an exploding star.



After our night on the rock bridge, I had the best sleep of my life it seemed. There was no ravenous hunger for her as the previous nights. Her deft change of hand made all the difference and bought us both some time before our next craving. It was the perfect antidote. Well, except, there was one issue. Despite the fact that we could endure longer strands of time without touching, it still meant waking up in withdrawal and usually that retraction meant a maniacal appetite.



Keeping up pretenses became difficult. We became attached at the hip, literally. We held hands so often that she became my right hand and I became her left. When we did our homework and needed both of our hands, we’d roll up our jeans and intertwine our legs. Ridiculous, I know.



We tried to wean ourselves off. Tried and tried and tried but after three weeks, during Christmas break, we threw up our hands together and accepted our fate.........very happily.



“Three days until Christmas Jules! Are you excited babe?”



“Of course. It’s my favorite time of year. Are you?”



“Of course. It’s my favorite time of year because it’s your favorite.”



She smiled, but half-heartedly.



“What is bothering you? You’ve been so, so distant today,” I asked, concerned.



“Well, I’ve been deliberating on whether I should tell you something Elliott. I have to tell you but I wanted to wait until after Christmas. The only reason I’m willing to do it now is because your Christmas present is gone.”



“Gone?” I asked trying to stay level headed. I knew where this was going and I could feel the blood begin to cook beneath my skin.



“Well, for weeks, like a coward,” she giggled uncomfortably, “I’ve been sleeping in my living room on the couch.”



“Why Jules? Are you still frightened? Taylor and Jesse haven’t bothered you once since that day.”



“That’s not exactly true,” she admitted.



My back stiffened and the hair that laid on the back of my neck stood. I pulled at the edge of my parents’ sofa and stared at the opposite wall avoiding Jules’ eyes. I felt the strongest urge to be anywhere else in the world other than in Bramwell, West Virginia because I was going to murder Jesse Thomas.



“I noticed right after Thanksgiving that my perfume bottle was on the opposite end of my vanity from where I usually keep it. I shrugged it off as absentmindedness, assuming I accidentally placed it there and never thought twice about it again until a few days later when I observed that the books on my top shelf had been switched with all the books on the bottom shelf. The next night, my hanger hooks looped the closet bar the opposite way I placed them. The night after that, my bed had been made and they had placed something on my pillow.



“When I bent in for a closer look I saw they had torn a strip from the end of my sheet and formed a noose with it.” She shuddered. “Every day, I’ve walked into my room in search of their newest installment. They’re usually harmless, or as harmless as you’d expect from two complete and utter psychos, stupid, or unnoticeable except, for last night’s.”



“And what had they done last night?” I asked eerily calmly.



She didn’t have to tell me. I was going to kill him regardless and only because my Uncle Danny, Jules’ parents, my parents, even Jesse’s parents didn’t believe a word Jules and I had said about him. He was the perfect psycho, a well adjusted, for appearance’s sake, psycho with the world’s largest death wish.



“Go on,” I said. She must have felt the thoughts because she waited too long to spill what he had done. She continued to hesitate.



“Go on,” I insisted, calming my tone so she would feel comfortable enough to continue.



“They stole the painting I had been working on for you for Christmas. I walked into my studio, saw that it was gone and assumed it was gone for good, until I left to see you today. After I locked my front door to leave, I saw the painting. It was hanging by a larger scale noose taken from longer strips of my sheet but the most disturbing part was what was done to the painting.”



“What did he do?” My voice teetered on hysteria.



“He drew one word in dripping red.” She paused. The silence was deafening. “He drew, ‘YOU’,” she continued.



“Where is this painting?” I asked.



“It’s still high in the tree in my front yard. I couldn’t reach it. I was hoping you would get rid of it for me. I can’t let my parents see that Elliott. They’d leave Bramwell over something like that.”



I slammed my fists on the cushions and let the boiling blood rush over my body. I didn’t want Jules to touch me. I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted the rage. I stood up slowly and walked to the front door. I grabbed my keys from its hook and swung on my jacket with the wool lining. If I need to, I thought, I could swing easily in this jacket. I dug my hands in to the pockets and felt for the pocket knife I usually kept in it.



“Where are you going Elliott?” Jules asked seriously.



“To take that painting down babe,” I spoke over my shoulder.



“I’m coming with you,” she said.



“No, you’re not,” I said then checked myself, “I mean, you’ve been through enough don’t you think? I’ll be right back. Promise.”



I turned toward her and smiled. I never would have left without kissing her had I not wanted to keep the explosion at a breaking point until I saw him and the thoughts to myself.



I turned back toward the door and pushed it open. I ran for my truck and slid into the driver’s seat. I turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. I was so on edge, I actually jumped. I threw it in reverse and sped out of the gravel driveway next to the barn and onto the paved road. Dust billowed up, camouflaging the house.



If Jules was watching from the door I couldn’t tell and that bothered me. I stopped short on the road and waited for the dust to settle. She was at the door, her palm resting on the glass. She gazed severely into my eyes trying to read my thoughts. Her eyes grew wide with realization.



“No,” she mouthed.



She threw the door open and ran toward the road but I sped away from her before she could reach me. Her horrified stare grilled into me like a sunburn and I very nearly turned around. She ran back to the house, I assumed, to call my Uncle Danny but I didn’t care. I would get there before he would.



I pulled up to the Thomas house not three minutes later. I ran up their walkway and pounded furiously on their door. I plunged my hands into jacket pocket and held my pocket knife with my right hand. Jesse answered the door and he didn’t look surprised, at all.  His storm door creaked open and he stepped onto his porch.



“Well, well, well. Look what the cat drug in. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked sarcastically, with the most smug expression across his nauseating face.



I wasn’t even going to humor him. I pulled my right hand with the pocket knife in my fist out and braced myself for what would happen next but I couldn’t do it.



I kept the knife in my hand to add extra weight to the punch I planned instead and cocked my hand back. I swung and hit him with all the force I possibly could. Blood began to trickle out of the corners of his mouth before he even hit the ground. I stuck the knife back into my pocket, deciding against murder for that day and steadily strolled back to my truck. I was back with Jules in less than ten minutes.



“What happened?” She asked, tears streaming from her face.



“Nothing really.”



“Nothing? I don’t believe that. I can see the bruise on your knuckles from here Elliott. What happened?”



“I punched him.”



“You punched him?” She asked, skeptical.



“Just once and then he slumped to the wood floor of his porch with a satisfying thud.”



“Elliott!”



“Jules, he’s lucky I didn’t do more.”



“Oh? You planned on what? Killing him? That’s a dandy plan. I can barely handle a few hours without touching you as it is. I can just imagine visiting you in prison, a thick piece of glass holding us back. I’d go insane. Killing him would mean slowly killing me Elliott.



“Had you thought about that? This is the first time you’ve ever been so selfish you forgot about me Elliott and I’m begging you to stop. My heart is breaking.”



I grabbed Jules and brought her head to my chest.



“Oh Jules, I’m so sorry. Really. Please forgive me love.”



She sobbed into my shirt. I imagine, releasing all the pent up hurt and anger she felt toward the situation in one good cry. I began to carry her to the sofa when the doorbell rang. I froze, as did Jules.



“Did you call Danny when I left?” I asked.



“Of course! I didn’t know what you were doing and I was trying to save you from yourself.”



I stood up and opened the door half expecting it to be Jesse, almost wishing it to be Jesse because Danny on the other side of that door meant a trip to the police station. I opened the door and heard Danny’s radio on his hip asking if he’d found me. Danny reached for his radio and kept a decided glare on me.



“Great,” was all I could say.



“Suspect apprehended,” he spoke softly, pressing down the transmitter button on his radio.



“What the hell Elliott?”



“You don’t understand Danny.”



“You’re right. I don’t understand. I can’t comprehend why you’ve chosen this boy to be your ongoing battering ram.”



“I can’t get you out of this one Elliott, not this time. Mrs. Thomas wants to press charges. She’s pretty broken up about the whole thing too, poor woman. She heard a noise and came out to find her son lying unconscious on her porch Elliott! And saw your truck skidding off. She doesn’t know what has made you snap but now that it’s affecting her son she feels she has no other choice.”



“Well, that’s not really any of her business is it, since Jesse’s eighteen? Isn’t it up to him to press charges? I’m willing to bet that he won’t be.”



“I hope you’re right, for your mama’s sake if nothing else. Regardless, I still have to take you to the station Elliott.”



Jules stood up from her sunken position and walked over to me. She grabbed my hand and started to explain to Danny, “He was only trying to defend me Danny, honest. Jesse has been breaking into my room at night and rearranging things and this morning he stole one of my paintings and hung it by a makeshift noose on a tree in my backyard.”



“What?” He asked in disbelief.



“That’s right Danny. Jesse’s been breaking into her room, we know it, he rearranges things to scare Jules. He knows it’s something hard to prove and that’s why he did it I’m sure of it, but this time we’ve got tangible evidence of his harassment,” I added.