It was a lazy day at Talia Grove. I sat in the living room, television on with a bowl of cereal sat on my knees. We were waiting for Lawrence's eldest son Tony to arrive. The house was quiet.
"What're we watching?" I asked, focusing on a man hitting a golf ball off another person's head. I rolled my head to the side when I didn't get an answer. Brandon's eyes widened then shut.
"I'm not really sure. I forgot it was on," he answered, taking a mouthful from his own bowl of cereal.
"You need to go back to bed," I said, "you've been staring at the television this whole time and you're going to get a headache."
He looked at me, scrunched eyebrows, "I wasn't paying attention."
"Obviously," I muttered, putting a spoonful of cereal in my mouth. I grabbed the remote out of his hand and started flicking through the channels.
"Stop going so fast," Brandon muttered. I rolled my head towards him, and I saw his eyes stay shut.
"Go to bed. Seriously, Lawrence said you could have a concussion," I said turning off the television. Brandon sighed and handed me his bowl.
"Fine," he stood up but wavered for a moment. My heart clenched in worry. Brandon walked off, leaving me alone in the silence. Charlie was locked in his office with Aaron and Kurtis trying to figure out the best plan of attack. It was apparent that Carrey never intended to try and have a peaceful existence with us. It was about coming out on top, eliminating as many as possible.
Charlie should be healing. I'd tried to convince him to have these meetings from his bedroom, knowing no one would mind. He was determined to act like he was completely fine and that concerned me.
James was still in his room. I'd locked him in there after he tried to sneak out and fell down the stairs. I thought my heart had stopped. I don't know what Carrey did to him, but his leg muscles were messed up, cuts going down to the bone and burns of different degrees covering all his skin. Staying in bed was his only option, much to his antsy pants dismay. I'd discussed different sedatives with Lawrence.
My ears perked at the sound of a vehicle stopping on the driveway. I left my bowl on the coffee table and walked to the front door. I opened the door as the doorbell rang through the house.
"Can I help you?" I asked the man dressed in a familiar delivery service uniform. The young man shifted his weight between his feet, looking me over.
"Package for Charlie Flanagan."
I pulled the door open further and the cold weather hit my legs. I was wearing one of James' sweaters over top of a pair of currently hidden spandex shorts. The man's cheeks turned red, making me bite my tongue to hold in a laugh.
"I can sign for that," I reached out for the device in his hand. It took him a moment, but the man nodded.
"What's this?" Scott walked up behind me. The poor delivery man's eyes widened at the man over six feet tall, at least a head taller than him. Feeling a hit of warmth, I glanced back and faced with Scott's naked chest. I rolled my eyes, facing the man again. We needed to stop walking around the house half dressed. People were going to start thinking it was a commune or something here.
I shrugged and handed the device back to the man in exchange for the box. I was instantly hit with a stink. This guy needed to shower. I smiled tightly and shut the door. Walking further into the house, I realized it wasn't the delivery guy, but the box itself that stunk. Walking into the kitchen, I saw the return address was a post office in Toronto, not a specific house. Scott threw his shirt on and leaned forward against the counter.
Grabbing a knife out of the drawer, I cut the tape. My hands felt wet in what I assumed was water from the bottom of the delivery truck. The scent I identified as rot got stronger, and I let out a gag, stepping away from the box. Scott moved back too, with a look that he might throw up. He opened a window, standing beside it.
"What the hell," I said, covering my mouth with the hand holding the knife. I opened the flaps to the box and the smell kept getting worse.
"What's on your hand?" Scott asked, stepping forward. My hand looked as if I'd pressed it in paint. My stomach tightened as the familiar smell invaded my nose. Dropping the knife, I ripped open the box more and pulled out the packing paper, also soaked with blood. I caught a glimpse of what was inside, and a scream rattled from my chest.
Scott stepped up to the box as footsteps rushed through the house. I fell onto the floor from shock, my hand slipping with blood on it. My elbow connected with the ceramic tile and pain shot through my bicep. Charlie, Aaron, and Kurtis were the first ones in the kitchen. They each took a glance in the box, covering their faces from the smell. After hid look, Kurtis rushed over to me, putting his arms around my shoulders as he stood me up. I could barely release a shuttered breath. I could barely breath, my chest and throat tightening. I couldn't take my eyes off the damaged cardboard box sitting on the counter.
Nicole and Luke were the next two to run in, but Aaron stopped them short of the counter. He whispered something to them, and Luke led Nicole away, turning back to me with concerned Brandon and James stumbled in ahead of my brothers. Cora and Sarah were at the doorway to the kitchen, but Luke put his arm in front of them. Cora pushed past her son, coming up to the counter. Cora screamed into her hands and from behind her, Luke threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. Aaron grabbed her arm, pushing her out of the kitchen. Everyone left surrounded the counter and started swearing. Drew leaned against the doorframe, trying to get as far from the delivery as he could. James and I made eye contact, my mouth opening and shutting again. I could feel the shock in my veins.
"Call Matthew and Lawrence and get them back to the property. Chrissy and Will too. We're going on lock down. No one leaves the property," Charlie said before looking at the box with disgust, "and put that on ice."
Scott and Kurtis pulled their phones out, exiting the kitchen to make the calls. Charlie left the room limping, Aaron following him. Without the stability of Scott next to me, I fell back against the counter, my eyes still on the rippling cardboard.
Aaron yelled to Brandon and James to go back to bed, but James appeared beside me. I hadn't noticed him walk over. I couldn't full comprehend what I'd seen. I snapped to attention when I heard James' grunt in pain as he leaned down to see my face.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I glanced down at my hands, blood dried across both palms. I nodded my head slowly, the source of the blood brought my mind back to the present and I moved to the sink as quickly as I could.
"You need to go back to bed," I mumbled, turning to the sink. I began scrubbing the blood from my hand under the running water.
"Ashlyn, stop. You're going to burn yourself," Tyler said, taking my hand out from under the water. I'd been so focused on the blood running down the drain, I hadn't noticed the steam rolling from the tap, nor my older brother still being in the kitchen. My hands were red and beginning to sting. I stepped away, turning to the counter. The box was gone.
"Where did the box go?" I asked, looking at my brother and James.
"Drew took it to the freezer."
I glared at James, "it's not an 'it'. That was Tony Oxborr," my throat tightened as I let out a scoff of air, "that was Tony's head in a box."