Dark and Twisted (17 page)

In the corner—being hand fed apple sauce—is a young girl around the same age as me. She has a thin frame with high, protruding cheekbones. Her dark hair has been chopped off at odd angles as if someone cut random chunks out of it. Her dark violet eyes are glazed over, and drool spills out of the side of her mouth onto her hospital gown. My stomach lurches again as the orderly wipes at her mouth.

A loud bang echoes around the room, and I jump at the noise. It’s the boy in footed pajamas, and he is standing on the table with a tray of food above his head. He smiles at me, reminding me of a Cheshire cat with his wide grin and yellow squinty eyes. The orderlies are already descending on him. He winks at me before chucking his tray at them. Screeching like a banshee, he leaps from the table and takes off running down the hall. My chest is heaving, and I have to keep my feet steady or I will not go running out of here too.

Abigail is abandoned by the orderly who was spoon feeding her to join in the chase after the Cheshire cat boy. Her small wrist holds a hospital bracelet with her name written on it. At one time, she was as normal as me. She had friends and family, she had crushes on boys. The wrong boy. Something bad happened to her. No, someone bad. I need to know what he did to her. Did she find out what he was?

In my dream, he wasn’t the same cold, sadistic boy as he is in school. Instead, he was kind and sweet. The ache comes back with the thought of how he held me. I shake my head. I cannot let thoughts like that stop me from getting information. I need solid proof that Jaxson hurt her so I can stop it from happening to some other girl. I want to know what he is.

Here goes nothing.
I step forward and sit down in the seat the orderly was in moments before. “Hi, Abby.”

She says nothing, a steady puddle of drool spills from her mouth. I reach over, plucking a paper towel out of a pile, and wipe up her mess. A pang of guilt vibrates through me. Guilt that I got away from the person who attacked me, but Abby didn’t. Something bad enough happened to her that she lost her mind. I could be in her place. If my attacker had succeeded, I could be sharing a bowl of apple sauce with Abby. I don’t know if she can hear me, but I want her to know I will not give up until I find what happened to her.

“Abby, I know you don’t know me, but I think I know who did this to you.” I dab at the drool.

“I was attacked, too … by someone, or something, with glowing eyes.”

Turning her head slightly in my direction, she looks right at me.

My adrenaline picks up.
She understands me.
In my excitement, I prattle on. “I think whoever attacked you, also attacked me, and I think that person might be Jaxson.”

At the sound of his name, a noise like a siren goes off so loud I clamp my hands over my ears. I look around for the culprit, wondering if the boy in footed pajamas pulled the fire alarm. It’s not until I turn back to Abby that I realize it’s not an alarm, but her. She is screaming and staring at me.

I stand up and stumble backwards, not knowing what to do. I look around the room for help, but the only people are patients, and they too are holding their ears against the noise. The last thing I said to her was Jaxson’s name, could that have set her off?

“Abby, was it Jaxson? Did he hurt you?” I ask over her screams.

His name only makes her screams become sharper. She begins to claw at her face, leaving behind deep red welts.

“Abby, please tell me so that I can help you.”

I grab at her hands trying to stop her, but she is stronger than me. She pulls at the little bit of hair she has left. Yanking out a piece in her stiff hands, she holds the chunk out, letting it fall to the floor. My stomach lurches as the bloody clump hits my shoe before it rolls under the table. I stumble away from her.

“Hey. What are you doing?” a doctor in a white lab coat yells.

I look at Abby one more time before I run. He jumps in front of me with his hands up to stop me.

“Where did you come from?” he asks.

Terror races through me as I imagine being put in a strait jacket against my protest and shot up with a needle. Before I can plead my case, a wad of apple sauce flies over me and lands on the doctor’s expensive leather shoes. His face goes from surprise to annoyance as he looks up at the Cheshire boy, who has returned just in time to save me.

Soon, everyone is throwing food, and a glop lands on my shoulder. I don’t wait around any longer. Instead, I duck under the doctor’s outstretched arm and run with all of my might down the hall, slipping on the apple sauce that is still on my boots as I go.

I run past the girl with purple hair, and she sticks her head out, cursing me. I don’t stop until I’m at the double doors, banging on them to be let out. The guard looks through the small square window, and shock registers on his face, but he recognizes me. He quickly types in the code, opening the door to let me out.

“What happened?” he asks as I dart past him to the open elevator.

I pound on the buttons, lighting them up.

“Stop her!” the doctor calls with a trail of nurses behind him. It only takes the guard a moment before he also comes after me. My heart pounds in my chest as one of the nurses holds a syringe in her hand, and I know it’s meant for me. If they catch me, I will never leave these walls with muted color rainbows. The doors slide shut with a ding, blocking out the horrified faces of the doctor and nurses.

I’m jerked forward as the elevator drops, descending to freedom. Pacing back and forth, I press the number one button repeatedly, whispering, “Come on, come on.” When I catch my reflection in the mirrored walls, I immediately realize why the doctor tried to stop me. I look crazy.

My brown hair hangs in wet clumps of apple sauce. Mascara runs down my face in dark streaks, making my eyes stand out against my pale skin. My chest rapidly falls and rises against a shirt that looks like it’s swallowing me whole. The necklace pounds as hard as my heart against the unicorn on my shirt, it mocks me with a childlike oblivion that is lost to me. I will never be the same.

There are things in this world that are cruel and mean, and things not from this world that make girls rip out bloody chunks of their hair. I lean over and get sick. I wipe at my mouth with a shaky hand. The other is pressed to the doors, willing them to open and let me out. The elevator jerks to a stop and the doors slide open. I sprint out of the building as fast as I can, past the family hanging on the wall and the secretary still on the phone.

I go home, curl up on the couch, and cry myself to sleep. A banging on the door startles me awake. My eyes, sore and puffy, blink up at the tin=foiled ceiling, and it makes my reflection distorted. The banging doesn’t stop, so I roll off the couch to get it. Liv is probably irate that I never came back for her. She is now gone from banging on the door to ringing the doorbell repeatedly.

“I’m coming,” I call, wincing at the tenderness of my throat. I’m just as far from answerers as before, but the one good thing that happened today, any lingering feelings I had for Jaxon are gone. I pull open the door, expecting to see an angry redhead. Instead, it is Juliet.

“Juliet.” I laugh, shocked to see the last person I would expect to be standing on my front porch. But my laugh quickly dies in my throat as I take in her appearance.

Her brown eyes are nearly black, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. Her skin has a green tint to it that is far from the tan she always has. She licks her dry lips. I would think she is on drugs, but I know this has something to do with Jaxson’s alien mojo.

She says nothing as she stares at me with hollow eyes.

“Juliet, are you okay?”

Her eyes dart nervously around, even though we are clearly alone. A shudder passes through me as a cold wind blows around us. I know he is out there, watching us. I just can’t see him.

“Would you like to come in?” I want to be out of his view and safely behind the door. Well, as safe as I can be.

She steps in, and I lock the door behind her. Standing so close to her in the hallway, her strong rose perfume mixes with another smell that is wrong, it is the smell of decay. The dim yellow light overhead flickers tossing dancing shadows on the walls.

“Juliet are you okay, did he—”

“I saw you talking to Cardelian,” she cuts me off.

When did she see me with him? “So?” Now I know what she wanted to talk about, it’s not enough to have one brother’s attention, she wants them both.

“So what did he want?” She crosses her arms.

My cheeks flood with heat and anger. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” I say defensively backing away from her.

“Are you going to homecoming with him?”

“Yes.” I wrap my arms around myself.

Her eyes don’t focus on me. Instead, they follow the shadows on the wall. “You are kidding me, right?” Her lip curls back in disgust.

“Look, I had a really long day, and I’m not in the mood to deal with this. So if there is a point to this visit.”

“I have a message for you.”

The necklace beats fast and hard against my chest, a tiny heart beating in sync with my own. I press my hand to the pendant, willing it to stop.

“Stay away from Cardelian. You’re forbidden to go anywhere with him.”

“Look, I know you are going through something, but I don’t know where you get off coming here to tell me who and who I can go out with.”

“I don’t care who you date, the warning was not from me.”

“Jaxson.” I step towards her, fist balled at my side. “He forbids me? How dare he think he can tell me what I can and can’t do? You tell him that I can date and see whoever I want.”

She slinks away from me and I’m glad.

“Why did he send you anyway?” I spit.

“I volunteered.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not complicated. Or it shouldn’t be. Jaxson is dangerous, and you need to stay away from him.” I grab her arm.

I remember a time, not so long ago, when we knew what it meant to be popular. Before I became a freak, we used to be friends. We played M.A.S.H. during sleepovers. I know that she loves the color red, and wants three kids and to marry Brad Pitt. Or she did when we were eight.

“I saw you in my dream everything was dark and cold. You were screaming, and …” She stops, cowering more into herself.

“And?” I squeeze her arm, urging her on.

“And Jaxson he … he…” She whimpers. “He killed you, he shot you with an arrow and killed you,” she says in a rush.

“What is he?”

Now she looks at me. I catch a mark on her neck. What could be mistaken for a hickey, is actually a burn. My stomach twists and the room sways under me.

“He’s not from this world. It’s too late for me, but for you …”

“For me what? What did he do to you, to Abigail?”

“Look, I don’t care what you do. You’re a freak, and as far as I’m concerned, so is he and so is that girl. I just thought you should know, but forget I said anything, it is your funeral.” She turns, pulling the door open, and leaving me standing there alone with her words swimming through my head.

The graveyard is silent, and the threat of snow is lingering in the air. I kneel, tracing the names on the headstones. I wish my mom and dad were here. They would know what to do, I yearn for my mother’s touch and my father’s sound advice.

Jaxson is the only one with answers, but he’s not going to give anything up, and he hasn’t been seen in days. I have not had any dreams since I put rowan ash under my pillow. I contemplate removing it so that I can see him again, but the fear of the dead girls wins, and it remains under my pillow.

“I don’t know what to do?” I say brushing off the frost that has gathered on the top. What would she tell me to do? I pull out the news article from my back pocket. Flurries begin to fall, landing on the paper, and the words bleed together. I close my eyes. “Please tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talking to yourself is not a good sign,” a voice behind me says.

My head snaps up, and I scan my surroundings, trying to locate the voice. The snow comes down harder, and the last patch of light in the sky is gone. My pulse races as I look up into Buck’s face.

“Do you find that you talk to yourself often,
freak?”

I try to still my racing heart. “Do you find yourself lurking in graveyards, sneaking up on unexpected people often?” I counter.

His lip twitches, and for a moment, I think he might try to smile, but instead he spits out brown liquid into the snow. Removing a can from his back pocket, he replaces a wad of brown tobacco in his bottom lip.

“Ugh. You are so gross.”

“Do you often picnic with the dead?”

I cringe at the word dead. My parents have been gone for a few years now, but I don’t like to think of them as being dead. I used to pretend that they were on a vacation and that they would walk through the front door at any moment.

“This is my mom and dad.” I gesture to the gravestones on either side of me. “So if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone.”

He cocks his brow, and I wait for it, something mean, something to cut me down.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

I almost choke when the words slip from his mouth. There has to be more coming, a jab or rude comment, but he doesn’t say anything. He really means it. Maybe he is finely growing up.

“Thanks.” I try to swallow the lump that is forming in my throat. “It’s dumb, but it makes me feel closer to them when I’m here. It’s like they really can hear me.”

“I remember their funeral,” he says, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

“You do? I don’t remember you being there.” But of course, he was there. Just like weddings and baptisms, everyone attends funerals in Copake Falls.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.” He turns to leave.

“No,” I practically shout. “I mean, I’m done here.” I try to recover from my outburst. Suddenly, I don’t want to be alone, even if that means being with Buck. Him being an ass is my norm, and I want to feel normal with my world unraveling around me. I grab my stuff and get to my feet. “You never said what you’re doing here,” I say, joining him.

“You’re not the only one that lost someone.”

That’s right he lost his grandmother last year. I try to be respectful of the dead and carefully walk down the center of the graves, but Buck callously walks right over the top of them.

“I’m sorry about your grandma.”

“It’s quiet here. It’s like even the universe is silent in a graveyard,” he says looking at me from the corner of his eye.

We come to the rusty gate of
Silent Gardens
commentary. This is where we go our separate ways, this is where the small bit of kindness between us ends. The next time I see him will be at school, and he’ll be his normal self, and I will be a freak to him. I turn to leave, but his words stop me.

“I just can’t believe she is gone.” He kicks at the gate with his sneaker. “Now who the hell am I gonna go to homecoming this week with?” He scowls.

“You wanted to go to homecoming with your grandma?” I ask confused.

“Don’t be stupid. I was going to go with Juliet.” He looks at me, blinking. “Didn’t you hear about what happened?”

“No, what happened?” My stomach turns.

He shakes his head. “She went missing late last night. Her parents are offering some sort of reward for her return. It’s all over the news. You really didn’t hear about it?”

I fight back the vomit that is making its way up. “No.” My head spins.

His face contorts into a smile. “Yeah, they think your boyfriend had something to do with it. I think he cut her up in little pieces and sacrificed her in some devil worshiping ritual.”

His words are like tiny knives cutting me.

“He is missing, too,” he says with a smile. “Do you know where he is, freak? We can turn him in and collect the money, split it right down the middle. I can get that new Mustang I’ve been wanting, and you can pay for your next stay at the loony bin.”

I lean over, losing the contents of my stomach.

“What the hell? These are my new shoes.” Buck cusses, jumping out of the way.

Juliet is missing and Jaxson the prime suspect. All I can see is dead girls floating in my mind. Would Jaxson really hurt her? I know the answer, and it’s yes.