“So what do they do with the girls your brother don’t like? I ask personally curious.
He stares at me wide eyed debating whether to laugh or slap me in the face. Luckily he picks neither.
“I guess they just make them disappear.” He shrugs, they don’t tell him about their evil plans or they just told him not to tell me.
“Have you not noticed some people’s absence?”
“Hmm, What?” I am distracted by the rain outside, it’s mesmerizing.
“I said, have you noticed that some people have been mysteriously and suspiciously missing lately?”
“I guess,” I don’t really care, half the time things feel like an unsolved puzzle. I don’t know why I’m here.
I look up, because Lucas is saying something, but I’m still distracted by the rain.
Drip, drop, tick, tock, broken watch and damaged clock. Tick tock, drip drop. Waters flowing down the hall. You can run, but you can’t hide, no escaping what you can’t fight, no control, only impulse. Death to those who don’t move on. Drip, drop, tick tock, time is running out for us. Tick, tick, drip, drop, someone’s clock’s already stopped.
And again screaming, someone’s screaming like when Kimmi was found dead. Right before I saw her, I heard her scream. But, her body was already rotting.
“S-s-someone is, I-I I think someone else has been killed like what happened to Kimmi, I think I should go check,” I stutter, because in the presence of the screaming and the eerie voice I think I hear something recognisable.
I have a secret suspicion that someone’s corpse is decaying in a closet, I’m not sure whose, but my gut feeling is telling me to check where I don’t want to.
“Hey no one’s dead, if someone were dead I’d know,” says Lucas in an effort to calm me down that is working.
“Oh,” I say simply and quietly refocusing on the rain. My whim seems to have dispersed and gone almost entirely undetected. I suddenly feel embarrassed at my irrational fear of their being a dead body in a closet, in someone’s closet.
“Are you hungry?” says Lucas attempting to kindle my attention. He never had it from the conversation’s start. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t trust me. Maybe it’s just not my secret to know. Whatever it is he doesn’t drop any clues to help.
“No, I feel kind of off today, must be the weather,” my voice is cold and empty like the harsh truth.
“You’d rather look at rain than at me?” he asks in a hurt pout that I find cute in a pathetic mock sorts.
“I just like watching the rain, it symbolizes spring,” I don’t add my mom died in spring.
“It is officially spring luckily for you,” he says trying to grasp the foothold I gave him.
“Yeah well I hate earthworms.”
“Unluckily for you earthworms like rain or something so it’s wormy weather.”
“We should go outside!”
“You heard me.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head and continue my infinite gaze out the window and to the horizon, but Lucas seems intent on taking me outside and grabs my hand and drags me out of the room.
I almost crash into the closet.
“Can I at least get a coat?” I ask desperate not to get hypothermia.
“Nah, if you get sick, I’ll nurse you back to health.”
I give him an oblivious, annoyed shove.
“Please, you don’t know the first thing about sick people or caring.” Harsh I know, but genuinely true, he doesn’t acknowledge my comment, but appears hurt.
He throws open the doors and a gust of wind whips my hair behind my head. The fresh air is well refreshing. I like the change of scenery the cold dampness of being in the rain, beats the lonely boringness of looking at the rain.
I let myself indulge in the rain until I’m sopping and my hair is so wet it looks brown.
|Then Lucas strolls over holding something with a keen smile.
“What you holding?” I ask casually.
“Close your eyes.”
“No way, I don’t trust you.”
“Then for once in your life will you?”
Reluctantly I close my eyes and feel a slimy texture on my face. And ugh it’s-it’s moving.
“EWWW!” I say opening my eyes and am greeted by a hoard of earthworms on my face.
I am forced to pluck them off disgusted and no longer happy.
“You’re a pig.”
“Your fault for trusting me,”
“UGH!” I grunt, because I know he’s right and I’m too stubborn to openly admit it.
I’m officially getting revenge. Umm I can kick him in the balls. I think wisely when I’m mad. Sort of.
“This is for the earth worms.”
I run over and just as I had formulised I sink my foot in between his legs. Really fast, I mean extremely fast. Impossibly fast. Inhumanly fast.
Sadly he grabs a hold of my leg and seizes it leaving me hanging by one leg.
“Nice battle cry, thanks for the warning,” he smiles teasingly and yanks my foot trying to trip me. I barely regain my balance end up my face an inch from his.
His red eyes are gleaming through the rain so close, so close. I can feel the warmth of his breath against my face and the pressure of his bare hands against my leg. The electricity between us appears to be radiating heat and all I can think is how I crave the privacy of the false relationship with moments like these that cease to exist.
His eyes stare at me almost like he’s waiting he looks expectant, staring at me waiting.
I don’t understand and that seems to have registered finally in his mind, that I don’t comprehend his actions and I’ve misunderstood is motives.
At a last moments hesitation I lean forward and kiss him really sappy like, without much passion, because of all reasons to break apart he stops and distances himself.
“Not yet,” and like that he walks away.
In his wake I’m left staring after him, but not daring follow his trail or call out his name for you can never know exactly who is lurking here.
How could he do that? Stare at me with those bright eyes waiting for me to do something and then just abandon me? In the rain he dragged me out into.
It’s pouring and I’m cold and lonely. No one’s coming to fetch me and I’ll catch the flu trapped alone out here.
Oh and ‘not yet’ what the hell is that supposed to mean? Oh I’m going to kiss you now, but we’re aren’t going to do it yet, because I have plans.
I try to storm back inside with the most ferocity I can muster, but at the moment it’s all I can do not to break down and sob into my pillow.
I somehow stumble back to my room and fidget with the door for about five minutes even resorting to kicking it trying to get it open.
“It’s like 5:00am lay off the noise would you?” I whip around to find Brad standing behind me looking tired. Perfect.
“I thought you’d like me making lots of noise at night. I guess I should just be quiet and go to sleep early like a good girl.” I say tentatively running my hand up and down the door frame.
“I suppose you should.” He says staring t me trying to dissect my empty face.
I purposely open the door properly and slip inside just before I shut it I bite my lip in the really cute way and whisper.
“You know I can practice all I want in school it doesn’t teach me anything, you know; important.” I swallow a laugh, but he’s looking at me intently and unbelievingly. He doesn’t think this is really happening, but the mischievous smile that plays on his lips proves he is understanding.
“So I guess a private tutor would be better?” he smirks knowingly. I have finally come around, seen things in his light, but really, I am not so sure I have
“Yeah tell them I can meet them tomorrow at like 10:00am-ish does that work for them?” I ask playing along, but slightly impatient shakiness in my words.
“I’ll have to check.” And with that I shut the door and finally take a deep breath and relax. I have three seconds of peace, before the crying starts.
I lean against the door for support, but my feet give in and my knees bend leaving my sitting knees huddled against my chest for warmth. My body is sprawled so tightly against the door that the slightest shake of it can send me flying across the room.
No one comes though.
More tears come pouring out of my eyes by the litre. Why? Why doesn’t he like me? Am I just some kind of game? A sick, manipulative, twisted game and the winner breaks the most girls’ hearts and wins the honour of being named the ultimate womanizer?
You’d think Brad would win that title.
Oh and I totally just did what Lucas did to me, to try and make him jealous. Oh well Brad is just collateral damage. A casualty as I’ve been told my aunt on my father’s side would refer to deaths on a battle field or minor death counts.
Seriously I feel like a pawn and he’s not even done, ‘not yet’ he has to break my heart twice. Evil likes company. Misery likes Company. He is miserable being an evil demon no one likes and takes out on everyone else by making them equally miserable.
I’m bawling now and I can’t stop, it’s like 10:00pm. How long have I been crying exactly? Too long over one boy- no not a boy a demon. NO one will know, no condolences for these types of heart breaks. I’m really late for classes, oh well.
I open my eyes carefully and find them sensitive to the light and find the oddest thing, my room is covered in tiny splatters of rain drops. The roof is perfectly intact.
I find myself soaked and rise to go take a nice warm bath and rinse of the soot of scent of mud and the feel of earthworms across my face.
And to wash the sense of Lucas’s lips against mine.
I walk over to the bathroom and turn the water on, making sure it’s nice and hot. I put rose petals and lavender scented soap into the water. I lay out candles around the edges and place a book on the rack next to the bathtub. I turn the water off and dash downstairs.
Without being noticed I slip into the kitchen and grab as much sugar and ice cream and chocolaty things as I can. I literally fill a bag with junk that will make up my dinner. Whatever I can handle the weight.
I make it upstairs without being detected and re enter my room and hop into the bathroom.
I strip off my dirty clothes and pull on thin robe. I wash my face and grab pajamas for after.
I turn the water back on and slouch down on the edge of the bathtub to wait.
I turn the TV on, the one that overlooks the bathtub and has like 100s of channels, and flip through channels lazily, distracted by the trickling of the water.
I finally decide on a TV show about a girl named Hilary who was murdered or something and people are trying to figure out who killed her and theirs like flashbacks and motives and an interior plot and stuff.
Then they show her and a boy kissing and I can’t help it the sobbing restarts. Almost immediately a wave of water from the bath tub pours out and drenches the entire floor and me from knee down.
I calm down to turn the water off, but yet again, the tub is only half full. The floor is also spotless now.
Am I losing it now? Is broken heartedness not torture enough, I also have to go crazy from post rejection depressive disorder psychotic syndrome? I totally just made that all up, but that’s exactly how I feel.
I wonder if I actually am okay I the head. I’ve been so distracted lately. I feel like I’ve gotten more work done than ever, but I have nothing to worry about. Oh my gosh, I’m the worst sister ever aren’t I? When was the last time I talked to Karly? She and her new friend Taren got matching necklaces that suit neither’s skin tone.
I walk over to the mirror and trip painfully and fall on my stomach and my outstretched hand’s wrist takes the majority of the blow.
This is perfect, an injury to match how I’m feeling.
I pick myself up again just to re fall even harder this time face first.
My nose braces the majority of the fall, but I think it’s bleeding and I may even have a black eye tomorrow.
Amazing, I can have the matching appearance.
This time I stand more tentatively, still dizzy from the two impacts and brace myself for a third fall, it doesn’t come.
I think it’s from the water that is overflowing from the sink I left running. I quickly shut it and hunch over the sink sadly.
Keep it in Lacey, only three more months.
I take a deep breath, that’s right only three more months.
I look up into the mirror sadly.
What am I going to do with myself?
The two sad blue eyes that greet me give me my unwanted answer.
I’m going to TRY and survive the next three months.
Even if it kills me. And with the symptoms here stronger than ever, possibly uncontrollable.
Now more than ever, I can’t let myself get hurt.
I wake up tiredly to the sound of rapid knocking at my door. I get up and hobble over to the mirror, Damn, I look terrible. Puffy eyes, swollen, red nose and frizzy hair.
Ignoring the knocking, I take a shower. Great, the red dye has almost fully disappeared. Reluctantly, I step out of the shower and pull on a sleek white robe and pin my hair up with a clip carefully n a delicate updo. I walk away to my closet and pull out a pretty, blue dress that isn’t at all my style. I slip the thin strap over my head where it rests nicely on my neck. The dress is long and bellowing, not like me at all. Whatever.
I slip into a pair of light blue flats that threaten to fall off at any given moment. Better not break out into random sprints at random moments. I don’t know why, but I laugh at that.
The knocking is still as loud and persistent as before so annoyed I call out “Who is it?”
No reply, obviously someone likes staying anonymous or they just can’t hear me. Ugh I stride upto the door with as much confidence as I can muster and open the door to find myself face to face with Brad.
He stares at me curiously, but says nothing.
“Let’s go.” I say for him, my voice coming out firmer and steadier then I would have thought possible.
He takes my hand with a devious smirk and pulls me along after him.
“Where are we going?” I ask with an anxious voice with an undertone of excitement.
“Ask questions later. Come on, why are you so slow?” he asks narrowing his eyes.
“It’s these stupid shoes!” I complain in a whiny voice.
“Then ditch them.” He shrugs as if it’s the obvious solution.
I roll my eyes and stare down at the layer of grime on the floor. It’s usually clean, but today it appears a new path has been made out of dirt and he s leading me on it.
I sigh hopelessly. “But, the floor is covered in dirt, my feet will get dirty.”
“Hmm,” then suddenly without warning he scoops me up in his arms and continues moving forward. “You know, you weigh even less then you look,” he says with his trademark grin. The one that convinces you he always has something up his sleeve and has some trick ready to done. It makes you feel scared and curious. It’s a look of pure evil.
I’m getting more and more anxious as he carries me to the unknown destination.
“Where are we going?” I ask a little less eager and more nervous as he crosses into a dimly lit corridor. He opens a door that leads to an elevator.
He steps into the claustrophobic room. “You can put me down now,” I say quietly. He doesn’t even look up or acknowledge my words. I glare at him for half a minute and repeat my former statement. “You can put me down NOW!” I say it firmly and loudly. He still continues to not acknowledge me. My eyes are staring daggers at him.
“PUT ME DOWN NOW!” I scream and start clawing at him with my nails that I haven’t trimmed for several weeks.
“No,” he says calmly, refusing to make eye contact with me. I continue staring at him confused, wondering what’s going on and why he won’t release me.
“Please!” my voice is pleading and desperate. I want to know why he won’t put me down, while we are in an elevator. And then something else occurs to me.
We are descending.
Lower and lower, I can feel the temperature dropping rapidly as we descend further down, lower into the ground. I’m getting cold and the hair is standing up on my bare arms and my exposed neck.
Finally, the door opens and Brad steps out-with me still firmly locked in his arms-and walks down a narrow hallway that’s barely lit. Candles every few metres are not able to properly illuminate the long winding paths.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask now on the defensive.
“The old trail.” My eyes widen, I’ve heard of this place before, I’ve been to this place before.
When I was younger, I remember being taken down here when my ability came. I had to walk and seek the old spirits or something. The presences of the souls who take pieces of your soul and decide when your ‘day’ is and when they’ll give the pieces of you back. So, on May fourth I’ll get the pieces of myself back, but so will Lucas … Whatever, I don’t care about him, I’m here with Brad. I straighten my hair and look ahead confidently.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask him without meeting his hard eyes. “Tell me now. Please.”
“I want to know something, I want to know what you are hiding.” He says simply as if his words are plain and are of little significance.
“Well then why don’t you just ask?”
“Because, I don’t think you know what it is either.” He says so calmly, but I’m confused. How is it my secret if I don’t know what it is? And what does that have anything to do with this place.
We continue walking and suddenly he takes a sharp and abrupt turn that sends my head reeling.
“Awe OW! What the hell is that noise?” I hear a screeching sound, like wailing that leaves me dizzy and gives me a headache. I’m surprised that Brad doesn’t drop me, but I guess I jinxed it, because the pain causes him to lose his hold of me.
“HEY!” I screech falling hard onto the floor. He’s too busy covering his ears to notice. I cover my ears and survey the large open chamber. Then I see them … tombstones.
“The screams of the untimely,” I stare at him, eyes wide in horror. “Only murderers can hear it.”
“Well you can hear it too so I wouldn’t be talking!” he shouts back at me.
“I didn’t kill anybody!” I shriek.
“So why can you hear it?” He retorts angrily.
“Because, I’m becoming the person who killed all of them.” I say, eyes wide from realisation. I am molding into her the sooner it gets to May fourth. “So why did you bring me here if you knew this was only going to cause you pain? Is this your way of making me look like the evil one?”
It takes to much energy for him to stand and his knees buckle and he lands next to me, but distracted he crawls towards a tomb stone. I don’t understand the significance until I read the print on the grave. “Night” I say aloud without realising it. “Why did you bring me here?”
“To see if you are who you say you are!” he screams eyes bulging and ears probably ringing from the wailing screams echoing in the vast space, the noises ricocheting around the room. “What is your mother’s name?” he barks at me accusingly.
“What? Why do you want to know my mother’s name!?”
“Just tell me Lacey, if that’s your real name.”
“Proelia,” I shout back, “Proelia Hara Night. Proelia is Latin.”
“Fine, come on!” he grabs my hand without warning and drags me away from the screeching of the dead.
“Why don’t you trust me?” I ask sternly expecting answers.
“Because I’m just trying to figure you out,” he says moving closer to emphasis his point.
“ Let me tell you my secret,” I whisper directly into his face, standing on tip toes.
“I am-“ before I can finish my sentence he kisses me hard. No passion, just an emotionless kiss. He shoves me against the wall, pinning me there and starts touching me with his hands. They leave my skin cold where his hands touch.
“STOP IT!” I shout gasping for air. “No get off of me.” I shriek.
He continues to use his weight to his advantage and shoves me to the ground pinning me with his body on top of mine.
I start thrashing and screaming, but obviously no one can hear me. Suddenly it all makes sense. Dragging me down here, where no one can hear us. Taking me into the room leaving me weak and in pain. I don’t think he felt anything, but I certainly did. I don’t even have a clue w=how he knew.
He removes his shirt with one hand and keeps m wrist pinned high above my head with the other.
“LET ME GO!” He starts trying to remove my neck strap, but experiences difficulties with me biting and thrashing. He rips and starts slipping off my dress. That’s it. I snap.
I can feel the heat rising to my face, but rather then settle at my cheeks, boil and rise all the way to my eyes. I can feel the heat from the anger radiating off me as I give him the death stare.
He starts to burn as I bring my hands up to his wrists. The flames dancing from my fingers to along his arms, leaving burn marks in their place.
“OWW!” he screams in mass pain and loses his hold on me. I start running towards the exit-or what I think is this exit-and he makes no sign to pursue me.
I round a corner and find myself holding my dress or at least what’s left of it and abandon my shoes somewhere down a long corridor. Reluctantly, I’m forced to abandon the shards of fabric that were once my dress from all the tatters.
It’s even chillier down here in my underclothes, but at least my hands are free.
There, up ahead is my saviour. The elevator. I slam my fist against the button that points up and immediately begin ascending. The doors open finally and I enter unfamiliar hallways.
Oh, I hope I don’t run into anyone. But of course, I’m like the ultimate jinx.
“Lacey?” asks a stunned Lucas. I bite my lip and duck my head uncomfortably. My embarrassment and shame are suddenly overwhelmed by a new realisation. He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at me, but at my eyes. “Lacey, what did you do?” he asks still shocked.
I rise my hands to my pink cheeks and realise there are still flames flickering, dancing along my palms.
“Nothing its fine,” I say sounding obnoxious.
He finally surveys the rest of me and I feel worse than I did at the New Years party. Awkward and exposed which I am.
“So why are you standing in this hallway outside my bedroom with red eyes, fire hands and in your underwear?”
“Fair question. See your observation skills clearly need improvement. I’m not in my underwear this is the latest fashion trend and my eyes are colour contact and this also happens to be where Brad’s room is and I was just leaving …
“Clearly,” he says still wide eyed and confused.
“You still really shouldn’t walk around like that, might give someone the wrong idea. Come on Lacey, I’ll give you real clothes and you can tell me what actually happened.” His offer is tempting, but I try to disguise my everlasting stubbornness as pride.
“No, please I don’t need your sympathy.” I say rolling my eyes, turning to stroll away.
“At least put real clothes on,” he says with a smile I can hear at a distance and feel something hit my back. I turn to see him walking away, chest bare and his shirt lying at my feet.