by Adalynn Rafe
This night was far from what I remembered, however. Many trees were stripped, due to cold weather, and the wildflowers had wilted. Some trees still had colorful leaves, but not many. Sunlight seemed to be something that didn’t exist here. The land was plagued by darkness––not even the crickets dared to chirp.
Kelly held my hand in his. Knowing that I would be confused, scared, and disturbed, it was how he assured me that he was at my side.
“Where is Cecily?” I breathed, exhaling a plume of ice crystals.
His finger pointed to the ledge of the cliff above. The higher ridge cast a dark shadow on the cliff. Silver moonlight caught something on the edge, reflecting quickly before disappearing. There sat Cecily––doing things that only the Almighty Dude above would know.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, we stood on the rocky ledge with a very sad and morbid Cecily.
Around us, lots of rock, a few dead plants, and a forest of dying trees, filled the landing. Dark, desolate, and worthy of a horror movie . . . Cecily couldn’t have chosen a better place to die.
Long auburn hair, kinked and snarled, fell down the black lace shirt that covered her back. She wore the skank shirt from the party. Elbows on knees and a fist to her chin, she hunched on a dark rock. In the background, a few lights lit up the town, gradually increasing toward the city beyond. I could pinpoint the hospital from here because it had a billion red lights around it.
In her hand she clenched a bottle of rum, knuckles white, seeking comfort from the warm liquid as she stared out at the sleeping town. After lighting a cigarette and inhaling, she blew the gray smoke laced with ice crystals from her lungs smoothly. A small tremble went through her—she was cold.
“What am I going to tell my mother?” she asked herself.
Cecily became silent as she took another puff. It made me sick watching her ruin my body like that, with no regard to who she hurt or the consequence of her actions.
Another stream of smoke exhaled from her lungs and she flicked the cigarette with her finger to release the ashes from the glowing tip. “Hazel is going to nag the life out of me. She is such a nag sometimes. I take one thing from her dad’s liquor cabinet, and it’s the end of the world.”
Cecily held her palm to her head, cigarette extending from between her fingers. She leaned forward into her hand as she stared at the lights below her. She tapped her foot eagerly against the rocky surface as a million thoughts raced through her mind.
“This is stupid,” she breathed. “What is wrong with me? I should be at the police station reporting those creeps, not here.” Tears filled her eyes suddenly. “And Hazel,” she whispered painfully. “What have I done?”
Cecily smashed the cigarette butt on the rocks and then threw it over the cliff. Closing her eyes, she held her face with her free hand and moaned loudly. “I feel like dying,” she whined, moaning once more. “I feel like crap. I am crap!”
Doubt filled me. I would never commit suicide. No matter what.
After opening the bag of cocaine––that white powdery substance––that she kept in her pocket, Cecily poured a little bit on the back of her hand. “No regrets. Right?” Tears returned to her eyes and she snorted it.
Her hand covered her nose as she cried. “What have I done?” A trail of blood dripped down to her lip from her nose, but she didn’t bother to stop it.
I covered my face with my hands and held back vomit. “Kelly, I can’t watch this.”
“Papa?”
My fingers spread open over my eyes so that I could watch her.
She looked up to the sky and the stars. “Papa?” The blood trailed down her ivory neck from her nose.
Cecily loosely turned her head toward me and Kelly. With huge pupils––more than darkness should induce––a trail of blood down her face and neck, and all of her dark makeup now running down her pale cheeks from crying . . . she looked like a tormented ghost.
She took a swig of alcohol. “I’ve disappointed you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have!” I yelled at her. “Get it together!”
Kelly patted my shoulder to calm me down. “She can’t hear you.”
“I––I––,” she stammered. “Papa, I remember the time that we caught a snake in the river. I was scared and you knew it. You made me hold that snake. I didn’t want to hold it.”
I did remember that. I acted so tough so that he would be proud of me, but I apparently resented him.
“Papa, I remember when you and Mom were fighting over how to pay for Adie’s medical bills. For a moment, I wished that Adie would die so that you wouldn’t fight and that Momma wouldn’t cry anymore.”
My lips pursed and guilt filled me. I was a horrible person.
“Papa, I remember the time that you got the cancer. Your spirit broke then, and I watched the life drain out of you.” Her shoulders shook as she started to sob.
I stared across the clearing below and at the next set of darkened hills where the mines hid. The mines took him. My jaw tensed.
“Papa, I remember the time you died. You left momma here alone to raise her two girls. We were lost without you. I am still lost without you . . . !” Rage rolled off her, but she hid it behind glossed eyes and pursed lips.
With the nod of my head, I fully understood how she felt. I was abandoned by him.
“Papa, why have you betrayed me?” She looked up at the stars again. “Why have you left me here all alone? I need you to protect me! I can’t do this alone . . . it’s—it’s too much!” Her voice filled with pain and tears, a sad song that echoed down the cliff.
Something rustled in the bushes to the side of us. Cecily stood up stiffly, clenching the bottle of rum even tighter, and turned toward the noise.
That’s when I saw how truly torn apart she was. Her eyes had dark circles around them and were bloodshot red. Hollowed cheeks were accentuated by her white skin. The blood had trailed down all the way down her neck and to her exposed cleavage. Hazel eyes were filled with pain.
I knew then that Cecily, me, had lost herself a long time before now and was terrified.
“Why am I like this?” I choked. “What happened to me?”
Whatever crept in the dark bushes made a rustling sound. Even I became scared of what was hunting me.
Cecily froze in her fear and dropped the alcohol. It crashed on the ground and sent bits of glass and rum all over the rocks. She pointed her hand toward the bushes with widened eyes. On her arms and wrists were cut marks, carved over and over again into her ivory skin. The fresh ones dripped blood onto the rocky floor below her.
“Kelly, this isn’t me,” I quickly pointed out. “This is not Cecily Wolf!”
“You can deny it all you want, but you know this is you,” Kelly responded.
Nausea filled my stomach. All I could feel was dread.
Cecily began yelling, “Get away from me! I know who you are!”
Something moved in the bushes for the third time. I couldn’t see it, though.
“No! I don’t want to die! Please, don’t come near me! Don’t touch me!” she begged and whined as tears filled her hazel, bloodshot eyes and streamed down her face. “Please don’t touch me––not again!”
“I was murdered?” I muttered, confused. Adie’s right?
Cecily stepped backwards quickly. “No––no––no––!” She shook her head in fright. “Please!”
I watched her movements closely. Once she stepped on the slippery rocks where the alcohol had spilled, she lost her footing. Pivoting to keep her balance, she took three steps forward. The final step was the last step she took, the step that sent her pummeling to her death—face first. She had fallen off the cliff, not jumped, but had actually fallen!
Cecily and I began screaming at the same time as she fell through the air and toward the rocky bottom. It was like everything that had happened to me was returning––every pain, every fear, every sensation, and every regret. Everything that she felt, I felt.
And then,
she hit the ground.
A loud thud sounded. Her body finally smashed into the rocks below.
I started sobbing, staring down the dark face of the cliff at my body. It lay limp on the cold, dark ground.
Kelly pulled me to him and I buried my head in his stable frame. Shards of glass filled my lungs, invaded my heart, and tore through precious tissue. There was no remedy for me, no way to bring me back to life! Stinging tears streamed down my cheeks as painful moaning escaped me. I truly was dead!
Behind us a dog appeared. It seemed to be a local dog, a golden retriever that was a friendly little guy. I fell to my death because I was scared of a harmless pup . . . ?
Kelly took my hand, leading over to the where Cecily had been sitting. On the stone ground were bloodied razor blades, a packet of white powdered cocaine, a pack of cigs, and glass fragments from the broken bottle of rum.
I looked toward the dog one more time, knowing that something didn’t add up.
In the shadows stood a man—his eyes reflected the light of the moon, his silhouette as still as a ghost’s. If it weren’t for those eyes, he would have never been found.
He had to be one of the goons from the party. How long had he watched me? Was it his intention for me to fall or was he going to push me––or kidnap me?
My limbs became numb and Kelly caught me as I fell toward the ground. “Why?” I whispered. I should have been terrified, but all I felt was numb. “Why did this happen? Who are these men? Kelly, Adie was right. Hazel’s in serious trouble!” Then the tears came and I whimpered pathetically in his arms. “I’m dead! I can’t stop them!”
Kelly stroked my hair calmly.
“Why are they attacking these girls?” My lip quivered and I felt cold.
“I don’t have the answers you seek. I’m only supposed to show you things to help you get back home.”
Next, I had to face her dead body. She had fallen on even rocks and her body laid flat on the cold ground. If it weren’t for the moonlight, I wouldn’t have been able to see the body in the dark night.
Cecily’s face was mutilated, her jaw snapped and her nose smashed into her head. Her sternum was concave and shattered, meaning that all of her ribs were broken. One arm had twisted back and her shoulder looked brutally dislocated. Auburn hair covered most of her broken face and bleeding skull.
Gasping loudly, my eyes widened and my hands covered my mouth. This is me!
I was only seventeen and I was a dead, drug addict loser who had snapped sometime in my young life. Thinking that I would be better off tortured and abused by substances, I knew not that I would walk into the center of a horrific nightmare.
Because of my death, everyone around me would suffer. Adie, Hazel, Mom. If I would’ve gone to the cops, I could have stopped this. Instead, I fell off a cliff!
I believed that’s called the ripple effect . . . and the ripples that I would cause from this point forward would be impossible to avoid or reverse.
Chapter 8
Auburn hair rested on top of the newborns head—a girl, judging by the pink bow. She had tiny little hands and feet, and a tender little face. I wondered who she was.
“What should we call her?” He had a German accent. His brown eyes were forced to be alert, and his brown hair tousled. He seemed like he hadn’t had sleep for a while.
Dimly lit, the room somehow held a comforting feel to it. Even for a hospital room. It smelled like rubbing alcohol and baby powder. On a tray were the remnants of dinner, mainly empty dishes and Jell-O containers. Tops of tables held flower arrangements. Pink balloons sat in the corner, tied to an arm of a chair with teal upholstery.
The woman glowed. “We should name her after my grandmother.”
“Cecily–– It’s beautiful.” His voice filled with emotion. “Cecily Ann Wolf.”
With a smile, the woman nodded tiredly.
“Nina, thank you,” Papa said to my mother. “Thank you for another beautiful daughter.”
“I love you, Luca.” She looked at him through loving hazel eyes . . . the same eyes that I had inherited. “So much.”
Leaning on the hospital bed, Papa leaned down to my mother to kiss her softly. Little Cecily was just born, healthy and happy.
“Momma?” A little girl with brown curly hair held a beaming smile. Dressed in a beige dress with white tights, she was adorable beyond reason! Looking up at her mother, she rubbed her brown eyes with the backs of her little pudgy hands. “Snuggles?”
“Sweet girl, come here.” My mother had a wide smile. She couldn’t move much and could hardly keep her eyes open—the woman did just give birth—but it didn’t matter.
“Adie . . . there is my little girl!” Papa said with excitement. I couldn’t ever forget his kind eyes and animated face. Even when we had grown up, my father still looked at us like we were his darling baby girls. “You want to see your baby sister?”
“Momma,” the young Adie said, pointing at our mother, clearly seeking affection from her. She was only four.
Smiling, my mother held her arms out. They were filled with tubes attached to needles, bruises, and gauze that held cotton balls over puncture marks. A white hospital bracelet on her wrist said Nina Wolf.
“Come here to me, sweet Adie,” she said with a loving smile, one that only a mother could give to their precious child. “I have a whole mess of snuggles for you.”
Adie’s face lit up with happiness. After Papa lifted her small little frame next to my mother, Adie held my mom’s hand in both of her little ones and curled up, leaning her head on my mom’s chest to listen to the comforting heartbeat. Smiling with content, she closed her eyes.
Tears filled my Papa’s brown eyes, and he wiped them away discretely. His heart melted when he saw the ones he loved, especially when it was his wife and his child. It was all he ever wanted in life.
Cecily began to fuss. Fussing went to crying before turning into wailing. Papa’s eyes went wide and he smiled as he looked toward his newest daughter. The little newborn’s cry was powerful, yet adorable––for now, at least.
“Sweet baby,” he whispered as he raised the child from its resting spot in a clear crib labeled Wolf. Papa cradled the baby protectively, his hands ginormous in contrast to the small infant, and smiled down at his newest daughter. “You are hungry, yes?”
Cecily’s rosy face tensed as she cried once again.
“It’s okay, my baby girl. Momma is close,” he promised soothingly, his German accent something I had grown to cherish from the first time he held me.
My mother gently moved Adie off of her chest and settled her on the bed beside her.
“She’s hungry,” Papa explained to Adie with a loving smile. “Babies don’t know what patience is yet.”
Adie smiled back, understanding everything he had just said, beaming like a little angel.
Papa handed the crying Cecily to my mother. She took her newborn infant in her arms elegantly and held her at chest level. She smiled down at the infant, though she wailed like a banshee.
“Baby . . . ?” Adie said with curiosity. She had yet to see her little sister.
“Look at your big sister,” Papa said to baby Cecily. “She is big and strong.”
Adie shook her head. “Papa, I’m not big!”
“Of course you are, sweet Adie. You are my big girl who is strong enough to fight a dragon!” Papa looked down at Adie and smiled brightly. “You can do anything!”
“No,” Adie said seriously. “There are no dragons.”
Papa winked at her before rubbing her small shoulder.
Adie’s big brown eyes glistened as she watched her baby sister, Cecily. As she reached her hand out in curiosity, she waited for her parents to stop her. This baby was not what she expected. She expected a ball of some sort, the same size as her mother’s pregnant stomach.
Baby Cecily stopped crying and became completely silent. Adie held still and looked at the infant, confused.
“Baby?” Adie asked, her voice
sounding like bells. “Baby too quiet, Papa,” she whispered, staring at her father with innocent brown eyes. She reached her hand out to touch Cecily, but didn’t.
Mother laughed. “Go ahead, sweet girl. You may touch the baby.”
Adie looked at Papa again. He smiled and nodded, giving her the approval to continue.
Lightly, the toddler touched the baby’s foot, which caused Cecily to move a little. Smiling wide, Adie looked at her mother before giggling. After removing her hand from the baby’s foot, Adie glanced up at Papa.
“This is Cecily. She is your little sister,” Papa said to her kindly.
After she touched the infant’s foot again, Adie said, “Cecily. Baby.” She smiled angelically.
Their parent’s eyes filled with tears of happiness and joy.
Cecily began to fuss again, and they knew it was time for the baby to eat. Papa pulled Adie off the bed and carried her toward the wooden door of the hospital room.
“Let’s go get some treats, yes?” he asked his daughter with a loving look.
“Yes,” Adie answered. She hugged Papa around the neck tightly. “And treats for Cecily?”
My mother laughed lightly as Cecily fed.
Everything seemed to be perfect for the Wolf Family.
If only for that moment—a moment that makes all the horrors in life more tolerable, brings ray of hope into a darkened soul, and warmth that is incomprehensible. Only for this moment were things perfect in this adventure we call Life . . . and Death.
Chapter 9
The halls of my high school were packed with a bunch of immature teenagers who thought they knew everything about everything, when in reality they were just lost and confused children. At least they had their identities, the only thing that would separate them from the rest of the world––whether it was a bracelet or necklace, a lucky shoelace or unwashed sock, or simply their own distinct body odor.
Let’s face it. High school was like a mental institute; everyone was either crazy or heading there, and the faculty was the caretaker, just trying to keep the mentally insane in check. But to the teenager, that crazy either carried you to the top of the popularity food chain, or it sunk you into your grave before you even reached eighteen.
