The Bone Maiden

Theresa always believed she was meant for more than she had. As a child, she’d been a notorious storyteller. The kind of child who wove tall tales to explain whatever she could. “Werewolves ate my bunny rabbit,” she’d tell other kids on the playground. “The school is haunted. The ghosts tell me their secrets.”

She seemed to grow out of it by the time she became friends with Ava Baxter, but as they got to know each other, it became easier to tell the truth from the lies. Theresa had never broken the habit; she had just learned how to make the lies more believable. She was on a never-ending quest to be more. One moment she wanted to be a movie star, and the next, that just wasn’t enough. She wanted to sing, or dance, or launch a fashion empire. But, at the root, she just wanted people to love her. Regardless of her chosen path for the week, she believed she was destined for something greater than herself.

Ariel said Ava was an enabler. She never called Theresa out on her lies. She learned to tell the lies apart but let her do it anyway. She would tell her that her singing was beautiful. What a great actor she’d make. She didn’t care what Theresa did or where she went, just as long as she got to come along for the ride.

But sometimes, it meant trusting Theresa was difficult. She didn’t even believe in Gabriel the first time she heard about him. It wasn’t easy to believe anything that happened outside of their little friendship. Theresa did sometimes leave when Ava was busy working weekend shifts at the restaurant. She was constantly itching for something to cure the boredom of living in such a small town. She’d tell stories about her adventures. Parties in the big city. Beautiful boys with sharp blue eyes and pockets full of cash. Magic and mystery. Making out in graveyards.

Theresa just never wanted Ava to meet Gabriel. She couldn’t even see pictures. Ava thought it was odd but never pushed Theresa. And she talked about him so often that the stories began to feel real. She’d see his texts sometimes. She saw the lethal black car. And now she knew the truth. Theresa hadn’t conjured a lie of the perfect boyfriend after all. Because Ava couldn’t stop thinking about the boy pacing the farmhouse deck with tears in his eyes.

Theresa now stood at the bottom of the stairs in the living room of the Baxter house. Ava could feel her there as if something was drawing her to that spot. Theresa always had a presence about her. It was easy for Ava to figure out how she felt before she walked into a room. Somehow she always knew what kind of mood Theresa was in. Except for when it really mattered.

Ava could feel her now, but she couldn’t name the emotion she felt. Just that she was there, waiting. And she was dark and hazy like a dream. Ava left her bedroom, slowly creeping down the darkened hallway until she reached the top of the stairs. She could make out the shape of Theresa in the dark.

“You always hated the tops of staircases,” Theresa said, with her head cocked to the side. “It’s where your mama died.” Ava headed down, irritated that she was bringing it up.

“I know,” she snapped. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I just wanted to talk, is all.” She walked into the living room, running her fingers along the cabinet holding all the Baxter family heirlooms. Things that would someday go to Ava since Mark and Ariel couldn’t trust their own son with anything valuable.

“What do you want to talk about at one in the morning?”

“How did your mama die exactly? You never did tell me.”

“She fell down the stairs and broke her neck. I did tell you.”

“No. I don’t think so. You told me how she fell. But not why.”

“It was dark. The nightlight in the hallway went out.”

“Is that what they told you? And the black stuff coming out of her face?” Ava gritted her teeth, watching Theresa wander into the living room. She could navigate it well, even without the lights on. She’d been there so many times. They’d spent hours watching movies and throwing slumber parties there.

“Blood,” Ava said, tone flat. Theresa laughed again.

“Blood. Where I come from, blood ain’t black.”

“What’s this about, Theresa?”

“What about your daddy? He died on the way to the hospital, didn’t he? After your mama fell? How tragic is that? To lose both your parents on the same night in such different ways. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. Were you there? Did you see it happen?”

“You know I did.”

“And was it just blood coming out of your daddy too? Did it come out of his eyes like it did mine?”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” Theresa spun back around. Ava could only make out the reflection of the nightlight in the kitchen glinting off her eyes.

“You did it, you know? It’s your fault. It’s always your fault when someone you love dies. I think you’ve known it all along, but you don’t wanna admit it. Maybe you should just kill yourself and get it over with. Maybe all the dying will stop when you’re finally dead.”

Light flooded the room in an instant. Ava was standing alone by the couch, staring off at the place Theresa had been.

“Ava?” Ariel called from the bottom of the stairs. She turned around to face her aunt, who was watching her with concern. Then she looked down at her feet, glad they weren’t covered in mud. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” she realized. “I’m awake now.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“I was talking?”

“Just you. I didn’t hear anyone answer.” Ava looked down at her hands again. They were trembling. It was only a nightmare.

“I was sleepwalking,” she decided. “I was dreaming about Theresa.”

“Oh, honey.” Ariel moved forward to pull her into a hug, but Ava put her hands up.

“No, it’s okay. I’m alright. I’ll just go back to bed.” Ariel patted her back as she passed. “Be careful on the stairs,” she warned. Theresa was right about that. She always did hate the tops of staircases.