Free What Kills Me by Wynne Channing

his home.
    Against one wall sat a mahogany-framed
Victorian sofa. In front of the sofa, there was a rectangular
coffee table and a black rocking chair. An intricate spider web
spread across the rungs on the back of the chair; tiny victims were
wound up in gauze in every quadrant but there was no sign of their
predator. Four chairs were pushed under a round dining table
covered with hardcover books, mallets, and other tools. Beyond the
living area the kitchen was bare, except for a few glasses and mugs
arrayed on the wooden, L-shaped counter.
    “Come in,” he said. He threw his hat
on the counter and rubbed his short brown hair.
    I took one step inside on the tips of
my toes. “I’m sorry about…” I looked down at my dirty legs and feet
on the hardwood floors.
    “Don’t worry. Look, I’m wearing my
boots. None of us ever cleans anyway. Come in and close the door.
Let me get you a glass of something.”
    He bent over the sink and began
rinsing out a white teacup with a faded floral pattern and a curly
handle.
    “I should get Jerome to sweep or dust
or something.”
    “Jerome is your son?” I asked. I
didn’t want to sit. Everything was covered in a layer of dust so I
just leaned on a dining chair to steady myself.
    “I consider him like a son. My son’s
name is Lucas. They’re probably both out back, trying to avoid
their chores. Let me call them.”
    He left the teacup in the sink and
pulled open a back door. “Boys, come in here.”
    I heard grunting and the clink of
metal against metal. I leaned backward so I could peer out the
door. In the field behind the house, two figures circled each
other, their long swords glinting in the moonlight. They approached
one another until the tips of their blades crossed.
    “Attack,” the taller one
said.
    “What is your name?” Noel said. I
looked at him as he opened a small fridge with rounded
corners.
    “Zee. My name is Zee,” I said. When my
eyes flitted back, the smaller figure was rolling in the grass and
the taller one stood over him, holding his sword over his
shoulder.
    “Boys!” Noel called.
    The taller one extended his hand and
pulled his opponent to his feet. They slipped their swords into
sheaths and came jogging toward the house, two shirtless young men
in dark, baggy shorts.
    “I keep telling you to keep your blade
higher or you’ll slash your own neck when you block,” the taller
one said. He had a smooth baritone voice.
    The smaller one bounded into the house
and stopped dead inside the doorway. He looked to be about fourteen
years old, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. A slow smile spread
across his face. “Hey, Lucas. Check this out.”
    The taller one stepped in. About six
feet tall, slim and muscled, he had olive skin and close-cropped
brown hair. He seemed to be about my age or older. He looked me up
and down; he wasn’t smiling. I tugged my skirt toward my
knees.
    “Boys, this is Zee.”
    “Hello,” the smaller guy said, bowing
his head. “I am called Jerome.”
    “I found her lost in the woods. She’s
just stopping by for a rest,” Noel said.
    “What did we say about taking in
strays?” Lucas said in a monotone.
    “Ignore him, Zee. He can be a little
moody.”
    “What’s with the schoolgirl outfit?”
Lucas said.
    I hugged my arms across my chest.
“These clothes aren’t mine,” I said.
    Lucas narrowed his eyes. “And the
cuffs?”
    “I thought they went with the
outfit.”
    Jerome smiled, but Lucas remained
stone-faced.
    “Jerome, get a chair for
Zee.”
    Jerome ran up to me and grabbed the
chair that I was leaning on. He pulled it out and spun it around.
“Please,” he said. He pushed a stack of books away, creating
streaks of dust on the table. Lucas crossed his arms over his abs
and leaned back against the fridge.
    “Thanks,” I said and sat
down.
    Noel set the teacup in front of me.
“Here you go.”
    I looked down and gasped. It was
filled almost to the brim with blood. I looked up at
them.
    “What’s