Evil in Me, page 12
“What? I pay my share! Hell of a lot more than Eduardo does.” Ruby knew where this was going, the same place it always went when her mother screwed up or got called out. Suddenly the conversation was about something else, anything else.
“Eduardo may not be perfect,” her mother continued. “But at least he’s trying. Now, I need you to do the same. Honestly, would it kill you to be nice to him every now and again?”
A fresh wave of hate blossomed and Ruby found her eyes on a hand shovel near her feet, saw herself picking it up and stabbing it right into her mother’s face. No! Ruby thought, struggling for control.
“And another thing.” Her mother jabbed her keys at Ruby. “You better cool it with Hugo. He’s really upset, which makes his daddy upset, which makes me upset.” Her mother turned and headed for her car, talking over her shoulder as she went. “You may not like Eduardo, but he’s been about the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and … and … I won’t stand for you messing that up. You hear me?”
Ruby did, each word sending a fresh wave of hatred burning into her chest. She realized the little shovel, the one with the jagged rusty blade, was in her hand. She didn’t even remember picking it up. She clutched it hard, her wrist twitching.
Her mother reached her car and stopped. She stood there a long minute shaking her head, then slowly turned around. She set eyes on Ruby and her face softened. She let out a long sigh and walked back. “Ruby, honey. I don’t mean to be so sharp. I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. But we all are. Y’know, this family just needs to do something fun together for a change. Maybe tonight when I get home, we can put our heads together … see what we come up with. Goofy Golf and some pizza sounds good to me.”
Ruby was about to tell her she’d rather drink puke, when her mother hugged her, hugged her tight and hard.
“I love you, Ruby.”
Her mother let her go and headed back to her car.
Ruby watched her mother drive off, looked again at the shovel in her hand, then at the ring, realized she was panting. “Fuck!” she cried and threw the shovel into the bushes.
Ruby headed inside, dashed down the steps, and rushed into her room; she intended to be out of here before either Eduardo or the cops showed up, out of here before she killed someone. She had no idea where she was going, or even how she was getting there, found it impossible to focus, her mind a storm of confusion, the only thing that seemed clear was that she needed to go.
She slid out an old makeup pouch from behind her nightstand. It was stuffed with twenties—the cash Pam had paid her over the last year, the money that was meant to go to buying her a car.
Damnit, Tina, what I wouldn’t do to have you here with me right now. Someone I could count on. Really count on. God, if I could only take back those awful things I said to you.
She shoved the pouch into her purse, then dug her dad’s old army duffel bag from out of her closet. She tossed the purse inside and began shoving pants and shirts into it, not caring if they were clean or not. She opened her underwear drawer and started tossing in bras and undies. She grabbed another handful of undies and that was when her knees buckled and she sat down hard on the bed.
“Christ,” she whispered. “Was I really gonna kill her? My own mother?” She shook her head. “No … no way.” But she knew if her mother hadn’t left when she did, that there was no telling, because Mr. Rosenfeld had put murder in her heart, she could feel the rage with every beat. “Fuck!” she cried, then shoved her face into the handful of undies, screaming into them.
“That’s kind of weird,” someone said.
Hugo leaned against the doorframe of her room, an amused grin on his pimply face.
“Thought I heard you come in,” he said, staring at the undies in her hand.
The hatred rumbled, seemed almost to growl within Ruby. She shoved her underwear into the bag. “You … need … to … leave,” she hissed, barely able to get the words out.
“I will. But first I need a shot of your beaver.” He said this so casually it took Ruby a moment to process, but it wasn’t until he tapped the camera, the Polaroid hanging around his neck, that she truly understood.
Ruby’s hands began to tremble.
“One shot of your cooter and I promise I’ll leave you be. What’d ya say?”
She clutched the bed; the heat, the fury, it had her. If she wasn’t clinging hold of her mattress with all her strength, she had no doubt she’d be bashing the little shit’s face in. She ground her teeth as her cheeks began to burn, as the chorus began to sing its sweet song.
Let go, Ruby, the voice whispered. It is time to make them pay, make them all pay.
“Look,” Hugo continued. “I got it all figured out. This is the last week of your probation. Right? So long as nothing happens, like you beating me up, then you’re a free bird, just like that Skynyrd song. But … but, if you were to what? Cut me?” A sly smile spread across his face as he pulled a kitchen knife from his back pocket and held it up. “Say, slash my arm. Could you imagine? One little nick, that’s all it would take. Y’know, just enough to get the blood flowing, then me screaming like you tried to kill me. I mean, fuck, they’d have you back in that looney bin in a snap. No two ways about that. I mean, am I right, or am I right? Because no one believes a thing you say anyhow, not in this house.”
Ruby stared into his smug little face and the chorus began to howl.
Give yourself over, the voice, the other, purred. Let us have some fun.
Ruby sucked in a deep lungful of air as the rage boiled, sending feverish chills up and down her spine, using every ounce of her will not to let go of the mattress, not to give in, knowing if she did, there’d be no coming back, because the only thing on her mind was murder.
Then came the rumble of a truck pulling into the drive.
“Uh-oh,” Hugo said. “You’re gonna wanna decide quick. Dad’s home. One little photo of your snatch, or me bleeding and screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs.” He set the blade against the top of his forearm. “What’s it gonna be?”
That was when she noticed he had a boner. Even through the heat, the rage, and the song, she could see that this little miserable turd was getting off on her. And … that was when she let go, just let go, giving herself completely over to the song.
Good, said the other. You are free now. You can do anything … anything you like.
And with that an odd calm spread through her, the hate, the heat turning into a euphoric rush.
“Okay,” she whispered and stood.
“Okay?” Hugo repeated, his face lighting up. “Okay?”
“Sure.” She unbuckled her belt, undid the first button of her jeans, then another. “What’re you waiting for?”
He swallowed hard, suddenly all his cockiness gone, his eyes wide with excitement. “Okay!” he said, tucking the knife into his back pocket. He popped open the camera.
Ruby undid another button.
“O … kay!” He took a tentative step forward, another, his face one of utter disbelief as he dropped to a knee before her.
She undid the final button and he held the camera up, his hands trembling. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” She tucked a thumb in the top of her underwear.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Ready to feed your blood to the worms of Hell?”
“Huh?” he said, not taking his eyes off the top of her panties.
“The worms of Hell.”
“What?”
She opened her mouth and when she did, the song came echoing out.
Hugo jerked his head up and Ruby drove her knee into the camera, smashing it into the boy’s face. There came an awful crack as the camera shattered into his nose and he fell back, clutching his face, letting out a long, wounded scream.
The scream was music to Ruby, feeding the hate, feeding the song. “Yeah, baby!” she cried, letting the song take her as she slammed her foot into his crotch, once, twice, a third time, driving her foot hard into his groin.
He wailed, clutching his mangled nuts as he rolled across her floor, his face a red knot of agony.
She saw the blood pouring from his nose and licked her lips. “Let’s get it on!” she howled, then laughed as the sweet, sweet hate filled her up.
He shot her a look of stark terror and grabbed the doorframe, coughing and groaning as he clawed his way to his feet.
Ruby took a step toward him and he yanked out the kitchen knife. “Stay away from me!” he shrieked, the knife in one hand, his busted balls in the other. “You fucking crazy bitch!”
“Gonna eat your eyes,” she said, and came for him.
He shrieked again and dashed for the stairs. “Dad! Dad!” he screamed. “Daaaaddy!”
He stumbled and she caught his ankle, her nails biting into his flesh, tearing deep into his skin.
Let him go, the other said.
“Gonna eat your eyes!”
No, the other, commanded. It is the old man you want. The old man.
She saw a flash of Mr. Rosenfeld, the evil eye on his forehead, his face contorted into that of a laughing devil, and let go of the boy.
Hugo disappeared up the stairs. She heard him run through the house, then out the front, screaming for his dad.
She heard Eduardo’s voice and began to growl, to truly growl. Her eyes shot to the far side of the basement, to her dad’s old tools. She walked over and snatched up a large screwdriver, one with a sharp chiseled tip. It looked like just the thing for punching through ribs and lungs. She also picked up a hammer, felt the weight of it, thought how soundly it would cave in someone’s skull, even someone as thickheaded as Eduardo.
She heard Eduardo’s heavy footfalls above. “Ruby!” he yelled. “Get your ass up here! Now! Right now, goddamnit!”
Ruby smiled and headed for the stairs.
No, the voice said again. First the old man. Then we can come back and do anything you like to them.
“Anything?”
Anything.
She nodded, and went along with the voice, because the voice was right, always right. She let herself out of the half-basement through the sliding glass door, leaving behind her duffle bag, her clothes, her money, all of it forgotten now. She walked, almost strolled down her front drive, coming to Eduardo’s truck, raking the claw on the hammer along the side as she passed, leaving a deep gouge the length of the truck.
She was smiling as she headed up the street, her eyes dancing, and if anyone had seen them, they would’ve sworn there were little flames burning within. She crossed the road and disappeared into the woods, following the trail, the shortcut that led to Pam’s house, to the little trailer, to the demon, Mr. Rosenfeld.
* * *
Ruby stood outside Mr. Rosenfeld’s trailer, swaying, glaring at the door, clutching the screwdriver and hammer. She felt as though she were floating, her mind swimming in a feverish dream, her face flush, her skin sweaty.
The old man, the demon, he is feeding on you, the voice, the other, said. Feel it!
Pain bit Ruby’s finger and the ring changed, the simple band turning into prickly spider legs, the coin into an eye—a real eye. The eye shifted, glancing about until it found Ruby. It glared at her, burning into her, and it was then that she saw the worms, hundreds and hundreds of them, saw their little faces full of rapture, saw it was them singing their little hearts out to her.
If you want to be free of this demon’s curse, you know what you must do, the other said.
She nodded.
It is time, the other added, no longer sounding like a friend, but her master. Time to make him pay.
Ruby’s heart began to drum, her head throbbing as though the worms were squirming around in her brain.
She walked onto the small porch, tried to peer in, but the curtains were drawn. She slowly turned the knob; it was unlocked, the door making a light click as she pushed it open. The room was dark, but she could just make out Mr. Rosenfeld’s form over on the sofa.
Careful, he is full of tricks and traps, potions and powders.
The other’s fear grew, flowing into Ruby, making her wary. She crept into the room, taking slow soft steps, careful not to bump any of the stacked boxes, drawing closer, closer.
Mr. Rosenfeld was curled up in a blanket, his back to her. She could see the back of his head, the white tuft of his hair.
Strike! Be quick! Kill the demon now! Free yourself!
The worms’ song filled her head, her heart, and their hate was honey.
Yes, she thought. It’ll be good … so good. She lifted the hammer, ready to strike, and it was then, from somewhere deep within, another voice, that of her own, so small, so far away: You love this man. He has shown you nothing but kindness.
She hesitated.
Do it now before he takes you! the other cried.
Her own voice protested, crying out to her, but the chorus rose, drowning her out, drowning out everything until all she could hear was the worms’ sweet promise of freedom.
She struck, slamming the hammer down into the back of Mr. Rosenfeld’s skull. She had the divine pleasure of feeling it sink into his scalp as she slammed it over and over, crushing his skull, turning his head into mush. Bits of brain, hair, and flesh spattered her face and into her mouth. Only, only, the mush … it tasted like … cantaloupe?
Someone shoved her from behind, knocking her atop the sofa. She turned, saw him, Mr. Rosenfeld, clutching a bronze chalice to his chest. For a moment it was just Mr. Rosenfeld looking terrified, but as the worms screamed at her to kill him, her vision blurred, and when he came back into focus his eyes began to glow and she saw horns, long curling horns, sprout from his head. His face twisted into a mask of gleeful horror as he raised the chalice, ready to strike, ready to knock the brains from her head.
Kill him! the voice cried.
Ruby threw the screwdriver, knocking Josh back. She rolled to her feet, came up screaming and swinging the hammer. Her first strike caught him on the arm, the second grazing his forehead, knocking him into the wall.
He crumpled to the floor and the worms laughed and shrieked and Ruby joined them.
Mr. Rosenfeld began frantically twisting the top off the chalice.
Watch out! the voice cried at her.
Before Ruby could react, Josh threw a handful of red powder at her. It went into her mouth and eyes, blinding her, and when she went to breathe, it shot up her nose and into her lungs.
She gasped, fell to her knees, coughing, choking, struggling to see.
“Ruby!” Mr. Rosenfeld cried. “Can you hear me? Can you?”
Ruby managed to wipe one eye clear, and when she did, she saw him, Josh—no horns, no glowing eyes, just an old man with blood running down his horrified face.
He slid over to her, grabbed her hand, the one with the ring, and slapped more of the powder on it. Her finger began to burn, it felt as though the ring itself was on fire. She stared at it, expecting to see smoke and flame, instead saw the powder melting on it, to it, like candle wax, bloodred, staining both her skin and the ring.
The fiery eye dimmed, then slowly shut.
The worms let out a long wail that echoed away and then, nothing, no other, no worms, no heat, no pain. The ring, it was but a ring again.
“Ruby,” a weak voice called.
Ruby blinked, looked around, realized where she was and shook her head, trying to remember how she even got there.
“Ruby.” It was Mr. Rosenfeld, he was trying to pull himself up. She saw the deep gash across his forehead, the blood, so much blood.
“Oh, God!” she looked at the hammer in her hand. “Oh no! I’m sorry, Josh. Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” She dropped the hammer and stumbled back, her hand to her mouth.
“Ruby, it’s okay.”
She shook her head and kept backing away, stumbling toward the door. “Oh, God, what’ve I done?” The room began to spin and she almost fell.
“Listen to me. You must listen to me. You’re in great danger.” He got to his feet and pointed at a large tattered book on the end table. “I can help you. The spell … to get that ring off … to set you free. It’s here!” He slapped the book. “Right here!”
But Ruby wasn’t hearing him, her thoughts tumbling over one another. She couldn’t stop staring at the wound, the blood. “What’ve I done?” she said again, trying to make sense of any of it.
She thought she heard a siren.
“They’re coming for me,” she said. “They’re gonna lock me up for good!”
“No, Ruby, dear,” Mr. Rosenfeld pleaded. “You have to listen. You must let me help you!”
Ruby turned and dashed out the door.
* * *
What has happened? Beel wondered. He’d withdrawn within himself, merely a passenger in Ruby’s mind and body, as she sprinted down the wooded trail.
He understood one thing for certain, that they—he and Lord Sheelbeth—had underestimated the old man, the Baalei Shem wizard, that he wasn’t so old and feeble after all. He’d ambushed them, just like in New York all those years ago, had once more outsmarted them by dousing the ring in some potion. And now Beel felt, what? Disconnected? Yes—from Lord Sheelbeth, the worms, all of it. They’d all gone quiet.
Ruby slid down an embankment, dropping to her knees in the sand beside a small stream, gasping and panting, trembling and clutching herself. Slowly she extended her hand, staring at the ring, and so did Beel.
The ring was but a ring again, only it was covered in a cruddy, reddish goo, as though the powder had melted itself to the ring, forming a waxy film. The crud was also on her hand and wrists. She wiped at it and some of it crumbled away, leaving her skin stained and ruddy.
How is it I’m still here? Beel wondered, knowing the last time this wizard had put a spell on the ring, he, Beel, had been sucked back into Lord Sheelbeth’s lair. What is different?
He shut his mind’s eye, blocking out what Ruby was seeing, searching within, once more reliving that long-ago night when the wizard captured the ring: Adam cutting his own throat, the ring pulling him back into it, scuttling away, the bird, then the wizard dousing the ring, yes, and a bronze box, falling back to Hell, to Lord Sheelbeth. What was different? He caught a flash of Adam’s body lying in the snow and it came to him and it was so simple he almost laughed.
