[Jason's POV]
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room as Erica and I lay entwined beneath the silken sheets. My head rests on her chest, rising and falling with each breath she takes. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat should be soothing, but my own pulse races with barely contained anxiety.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Riley's face contorted in agony, her final moments replaying in vivid, horrific detail. My stomach churns with a nauseating mix of guilt and arousal.
"You're thinking too loud," Erica murmurs, her voice a low purr that sends shivers down my spine.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. What can I possibly say? I'm horrified by what she's done, yet I can't deny the twisted thrill it gave me? That I'm disgusted with myself for finding her even more irresistible now?
Before I can formulate a response, a sharp knock at the door cuts through the heavy silence. Erica's body tenses beneath me, her fingers stilling in my hair.
"Come in," she calls out, her voice steady and controlled.
The door creaks open, and Amelia's crisp silhouette appears in the doorway. Even in the dim light, I can see the perfectly pressed lines of her uniform, not a hair out of place. Her face remains impassive as she takes in our state of undress, the rumpled sheets barely preserving our modesty.
"Pardon the interruption, Miss Erica," Amelia says, her tone as starched as her collar. "But Miss Tessa is at the door."
Erica's brow furrows in confusion. "Tessa?" she repeats, a note of genuine surprise in her voice. Her eyes narrow slightly, a calculating look crossing her face. "Well, that's unexpected."
She pauses for a moment, seemingly weighing her options. I can almost see the gears turning in her head as she considers how to handle this unexpected visitor. Finally, she nods decisively.
"Very well," Erica says, her voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "Tell her we'll be down shortly. Have her wait in the living room."
Amelia gives a curt nod, her posture ramrod straight. "Of course, Miss Erica. I'll see to it immediately."
"Well, love," she says, a wry smile playing at her lips, "duty calls. Time to make ourselves presentable."
As we dress, I find my hands shaking so badly I can barely button my shirt. Erica notices, her eyes softening with concern. She approaches me, gently brushing my fumbling fingers aside to fasten the buttons herself.
"It's okay, love," she murmurs, her voice tender. "I've got you."
I nod mutely, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. My heart hammers against my ribcage, each beat a painful reminder of what transpired earlier. The metallic scent of blood still lingers in my nostrils, making my stomach churn.
Erica cups my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now shine with warmth and reassurance. "Listen to me, Jason. You're safe. No one is going to separate us okay?"
She pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms encircling me like a fortress. I bury my face in the crook of her neck. Despite everything, I feel my body relaxing into her touch.
"Here," Erica says, taking my hand in hers. Her grip is firm, grounding. "If you get nervous, just squeeze my hand, okay?"
I nod, managing a weak smile. "Okay."
We make our way downstairs, our footsteps echoing in the vast, empty hallways of the mansion. With each step, I feel my anxiety mounting. My palms grow clammy, and I tighten my grip on Erica's hand.
As we enter the living room, my eyes immediately lock on the figure sprawled across the couch. Tessa lounges there, her long legs spread wide in a posture of casual dominance.
An unopened bottle of rum sits in her lap, her fingers idly tracing the label. As we approach, Tessa's grey eyes flick up to meet ours, a lazy smile spreading across her face.
"Hey," Erica says, her voice carefully neutral.
Tessa's smile widens. "What's up?" she drawls, her tone infuriatingly casual given the circumstances.
Erica's eyes narrow, fixating on the bottle in Tessa's hands. Confusion flickers across her face, quickly replaced by suspicion. "What's with the rum?" she asks, her voice tight with barely contained tension.
Tessa's smile softens, her eyes taking on a more serious glint. She sits up straighter, cradling the bottle of rum in her lap like a precious offering.
"It's... well, it's an apology," Tessa says softly. "For the whole winking thing the other day."
Her grey eyes lock onto mine, filled with genuine remorse. The intensity of her gaze makes me shift uncomfortably, my hand tightening around Erica's.
"I'm really sorry I creeped you out, Jason," Tessa continues, her words slow and deliberate. "It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable."
I blink rapidly, trying to process her words. My mind feels foggy, clouded by the lingering images of Riley's final moments. The memory of blood spilling across the basement floor flashes behind my eyes, making me flinch visibly.
"It's... it's no problem," I stammer, my voice sounding weak and distant to my own ears. "I'm sorry I made it such a big thing. I guess I overreacted." My mind having trouble even thinking about what Tessa is talking about.
Erica's hand squeezes mine reassuringly. She steps forward slightly, positioning herself between Tessa and me in a subtle, protective gesture.
"We just tend to take shit seriously," Erica pipes up, her tone casual but with an underlying edge of steel. "You know how it is. We keep running into issues with people, so we've learned to be cautious."
As she speaks, Erica's eyes never leave the bottle of rum in Tessa's lap. Her gaze is intense, almost hungry as if she's trying to divine some hidden meaning from the label. The amber liquid sloshes gently as Tessa shifts, catching the light and casting warm reflections across the room.
Tessa leans forward, her movements slow and deliberate as if she's trying not to startle a frightened animal. She holds out the bottle of rum, a peace offering extended across the chasm of awkwardness between us.
"I thought we could maybe share a drink," she says, her voice low and soothing. "Clear the air, you know?"
Erica's eyes flicker with interest at Tessa's offer, a brief flash of desire crossing her face before she points her expression back to neutral. She opens her mouth, clearly about to decline, when I suddenly interject.
"Actually," I say, my voice cracking slightly, "I could really use a drink right now."
Erica turns to me, concern etched across her features. I lean in close, my lips barely brushing her ear as I whisper, "Please. To calm my nerves."
She studies my face for a long moment, her blue eyes searching mine. Finally, she gives an almost imperceptible nod before turning back to Tessa.
"We'd love to," Erica says, her tone carefully measured.
Tessa's face lights up with a genuine smile as she begins pouring the amber liquid into three crystal glasses that seem to materialize out of thin air. The rich, spicy aroma of the rum fills the air, making my mouth water despite my churning stomach.
As we settle onto the plush leather couch, Erica hands me my glass. "Here," she murmurs, her voice low and tender. "Only drink what you want, okay?"
I nod gratefully, my hand trembling slightly as I accept the glass. The weight of it feels reassuring in my palm, solid and real amidst the surreal haze of the evening's events.
Without hesitation, I bring the glass to my lips and start chugging. The rum burns a fiery trail down my throat, scorching away the lingering taste of copper and guilt. I barely register the flavor, focused solely on the numbing warmth spreading through my body.
Suddenly, I pull the glass away, coughing and sputtering as the alcohol's burn catches up with me. My eyes water as I gasp for air, the room spinning slightly around me.
Tessa's eyes go wide with surprise and concern. "Whoa there, buddy," she says, leaning forward. "What's the rush? This isn't a race, you know."
Erica's hand immediately finds its way to my back, rubbing soothing circles as I continue to cough and sputter. The warmth of her touch seeps through my shirt, a stark contrast to the burning sensation in my throat.
"Easy there, baby," she murmurs, her voice low and tender. Her eyes soft with concern as they meet mine. "He's had a rough day," she explains to Tessa, her tone casual but with an underlying edge of protectiveness.
Tessa's brow furrows, her grey eyes clouding with worry as she leans forward. The leather of the couch creaks softly beneath her, the sound barely audible over my ragged breathing. "Are you alright, Jason?" she asks, her voice gentle and filled with genuine concern.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, willing my racing heart to slow. The room swims slightly around me, the edges of my vision blurring as the alcohol begins to take effect. The warm, spicy scent of the rum mingles with the lingering metallic tang of blood that seems to cling to my nostrils, creating a dizzying sensory cocktail.
"I'm fine," I manage to croak out, my voice hoarse from the coughing fit. "I just... I just want to have a good time, you know?" The words tumble out before I can stop them, tinged with a desperate edge that makes me wince internally.
Tessa throws her head back, a rich, throaty laugh escaping her lips. The sound fills the room, bouncing off the high ceilings and polished surfaces. It's a warm, inviting sound that seems to lighten the oppressive atmosphere that's been hanging over us.
"Well, that's certainly one way to kick things off," she chuckles, raising her own glass in a mock toast. The amber liquid catches the light, sending golden reflections dancing across her face.
Erica's hand stills on my back, her fingers digging in slightly. When she speaks, her voice is low and firm, meant for my ears alone. "Don't overdo it, honey."
I nod, feeling a flush creep up my neck at her closeness. I take another sip of the rum, smaller this time, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat.
As the rum works its magic, the tension in the room begins to dissipate. The warm glow of the alcohol softens the edges of my anxiety, letting me relax into the plush leather of the couch.
Tessa lounges across from us, her long legs stretched out, combat boots propped up on the ornate coffee table.
As the silence wears on, my mind drifts to Tessa's younger sister, Mindy. I've only met her a few times, but her unique style always stood out.
"Hey Tessa, I've always wondered... how did Mindy end up such a weeb with that weird gal aesthetic?"
Tessa and Erica exchange a glance before bursting into laughter. Tessa wipes a tear from her eye.
"Oh man," she wheezes, trying to catch her breath, "it's because our mom is a major weeb too."
I blink, confusion furrowing my brow. "What do you mean?"
Tessa takes another sip of rum, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Like, she watches anime all the time, reads piles of manga, and devours weird web novels like they're going out of style."
"Really?" I ask, genuinely surprised.
"Oh yeah," Tessa nods emphatically. "You should see her collection. It's insane. She's got shelves upon shelves of light novels, manga, and anime figurines. She even cosplays sometimes."
Tessa chuckles, shaking her head. "Oh man, you don't know the half of it either. I've caught Mom reading some seriously questionable stuff. Like weird incest books about mothers and sons. It's pretty messed up."
She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "Thank god she never had a son, you know? Otherwise, who knows? She might've ended up as some kind of predator."
My eyes widen in shock. "That's horrible," I say, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over me.
Tessa nods vigorously, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I know, right? It's pretty fucked up." She lets out a bark of laughter, but there's an edge of discomfort to it.
"But hey," she continues, her tone lightening, "at least Mindy's obsession is relatively tame in comparison. Sure, she's into the whole gyaru thing, but it could be way worse."
I take another sip of my rum. "Speaking of Mindy, how's she doing in school? I imagine her... unique style might cause some issues."
Tessa's face softens, a fond smile replacing her earlier mirth. "You know, I was worried about that too. But surprisingly, she's doing alright. Yeah, some people find her weird, but she's found her niche."
She leans back, a look of pride crossing her features. "She joined the anime club this year, and it's been great for her. She's really coming out of her shell, making friends who appreciate her quirkiness. It's a relief, honestly."
I can't help but smile at the obvious affection in Tessa's voice. "That's awesome. I'm glad she's found her people."
"Yeah," Tessa agrees, her eyes distant. "It makes me feel a lot better, knowing she's got a support system at school. I worry about her, you know?"
The sincerity in her voice catches me off guard. It's a side of Tessa I've never seen before, this protective, caring big sister. It's... oddly touching.
'Just like my old Brooke used to be.' I feel a pang of homesickness at the thought of a more reasonable Brooke.
Tessa's eyes light up suddenly as if remembering something important. She leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees, the ice in her glass clinking softly as she moves.
"Oh, speaking of sisters," she says, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice, "Brooke just bought some beach house in Rhode Island. It's this gorgeous place right on the water, with all weathered shingles and wrap-around porches. She showed me pictures."
'Really spending that money, Brooke, eh? Good for you.' I can't help but think that I'm happy that she's not just sitting on it like I thought she might.
She pauses to take a sip of her rum, savoring the flavor before continuing. "Anyway, she was gonna invite everyone up when we're on break. Said something about christening the place with a proper party."
Erica's eyebrow arches skeptically. "Who's 'everyone'?" she asks, her tone carefully neutral.
Tessa grins, ticking off names on her fingers. "All our friends. Justine, Nikki, Tara, and us."
I blink in surprise, my rum-addled brain struggling to keep up. "Wait, why all our friends?" I ask, confusion evident in my voice.
Tessa laughs, the sound warm and rich in the quiet room. "They're my friends too. And Brooke is my best friend, so she said it was fine. We've all known each other for ages, remember?"
She leans back, stretching her long legs out in front of her. The leather of the couch creaks softly under her shifting weight. "She says we can spend the week there during your April vacation. Can you imagine it? A whole week of sun, sand, and sea air."
"There's a little private beach just a short walk from the house," Tessa continues, her voice taking on an almost reverent tone.
As Tessa speaks, I feel myself getting caught up in her enthusiasm. The tension in my shoulders starts to ease, the horrors of the day fading to a dull ache in the back of my mind.
"Brooke says there's this amazing seafood shack just down the road," Tessa continues. "They catch the fish fresh every morning."
I glance over at Erica. She catches my eye, raising an eyebrow in a silent question asking me if I want to go. I nod, feeling a surge of warmth in my chest.
"We're in," Erica says, her voice calm. "It sounds fun."
'It will be nice to get away from Salem for a bit next month.'