by Adalynn Rafe
The question repeated in mind: What does Sabrina have to do with my death?
“Is that––?” Kelly stared at the blond beauty beside her.
I stared down at Hazel. At the time she was Sabrina’s best friend. “Their parent’s knew each other,” I explained. “Rich people unite.”
“How old is she?” he asked in reference to Sabrina.
A little bit of sadness filled me. “Eight.”
Now we stood in a house, well, a mansion actually. Extravagant, with European flare and random statues of naked humans—unique could hardly explain it.
The large wooden door with brass insets opened behind us and in walked an eleven year old Sabrina, her shoes clacking against the marble floor of the foyer. She looked like a dork with braces and glasses and I tried not to laugh. And trust me, I looked worse.
She headed up a large staircase that followed the curve of the wall, her small hand gliding lightly on the rod-iron railing. Her shoulders sagged, like something had upset her that day.
We followed her to her ginormous pink bedroom, which had a princess castle for a bed and a vanity filled everything a girl could want in life. Even a giant unicorn!
She dropped her backpack on the carpeted floor and looked at the mirror. “I’m fat,” she said as she picked at her chin. Sabrina was not a fat child at all.
After poking at herself for a minute, she pulled a paper out of her backpack—a poem that she had gotten a good grade on. Beaming with accomplishment, she headed into the hallway and toward another part of the house.
She stepped quietly along a dark hallway lined with tall wooden doors, walnut in color. They contrasted the mustard yellow that splotched the walls. At last, she reached a door at the very end of the hall. Closed shut, it seemed rather uninviting. Regardless, Sabrina’s little hand reached to the brushed silver knob and twisted. Something was going on in that room, because when she opened the door we could hear heavy panting and rattling noises from the bed.
“Oh, crap,” I whispered.
“Gordon!” Carmen screamed from behind us, her Spanish accent thick with anger. She pushed her daughter aside to go through the open door and into the darkened bedroom. “Gordon Drake!”
Screaming sounded from the horrified little Sabrina.
* * *
Sabrina sat on the cold ground in the perfectly sculpted backyard. On the far end were trees, and only trees. As the yard progressed toward the house, it was more sculpted and filled with smaller bushes and plants. It had to be late fall. She was curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, staring into the darkness of the forest beyond her.
“Do you not get scared out here, all by yourself?” Natasha asked her quietly. She stood behind her wrapped in a white blanket. Tall and sleek and blond, she possessed a unique beauty that was all her own.
Scowling, the twelve year old Sabrina looked back at her. “The only thing to be scared of is you. You chased my mother away and robbed my father of his empty heart.”
I nodded in remembrance. Really, her mother ran away because her husband shot her son on accident while on a hunting trip. Then she drew away from her family in her sorrow, and that caused her husband to cheat with Natasha. Carmen ran away. Though Sabrina always had a grudge toward Natasha, she hated her mother more. She abandoned her.
“What do you say we have a party with your friends?” Natasha sat down beside her. She was trying to be nice. “It will cheer you up.”
Sabrina wrapped her arms around herself even tighter. “You’re not my mom, Natasha. You’re married to my father, but that doesn’t make you my mother.”
Natasha wrapped her arm around her regardless. I felt sorry for Natasha, who was trying so hard to win the heart of the messed up child. “What about Hazel? She can come to the party.”
Her eyes filled with angry tears, she smacked Natasha’s arm away from her. “Don’t touch me!” Sabrina screamed. “I hate you!”
“Sabrina,” Gordon said from the stone porch. Lights filled the space behind him to reveal a glorious patio and covered pool. “Darling?”
After glaring at Natasha, Sabrina stood up and dragged her feet toward her father. “Daddy,” she cried, her voice thick with tears. “Hazel hates me!”
Gordon tilted his head. “Darling, Hazel doesn’t hate you.”
Sabrina started crying––her face contorted in emotional distraught––when she reached her towering father. “It’s Cecily’s fault!”
Looking at Kelly, I felt bad—I had done some heinous crime to Sabrina in my young life. Was it really my fault? Was she getting payback—is that why I died? He could only shrug and give an apologetic look.
“Hazel!” Sabrina, twelve years of age screamed, her face going red. Now they were in the field of the middle school. Of course, Sabrina sat atop the highest perch of land, the pitcher’s mound, and bossed people around.
Young Hazel booked it away from her, upset and crying.
“Hazel!” Sabrina screamed again. She ignored her, so Sabrina got off of her perch. She ran after her and shoved Hazel onto the ground viciously.
With alligator tears filling those beautiful green eyes, Hazel looked up at Sabrina with betrayal. “Why did you do that, Sabrina?” She stood up and dusted the dirt from her white dress. Adorable golden pigtails were now snarled.
Sabrina pointed a dictatorial finger in Hazel’s face. “You listen to me when I’m talking to you!” For a twelve year old, she was sure something else. “I should be the queen, not you!”
“I’m not the queen anymore!” Hazel yelled. “I’m not your friend anymore, duchess!”
Sabrina’s eyes widened and her mouth became a shocked O. She pushed Hazel to the ground again, angrier than ever.
“Knock it off!” Cecily yelled, blocking Hazel from any more abuse by Sabrina. “What is your problem, Sabrina?”
Cecily wore overalls, a striped shirt, and hand-me-down sneakers from Adie. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail, she had a little acne, and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on her face. Sabrina wore designer jeans, a fur coat, and leather boots. Her hair was straightened, her make-up expertly done, and an invisible retainer sat across her teeth.
Sabrina shoved Cecily out of the way. “None of your business, peasant!”
The thing was that I was tough as nails as a kid. So, Cecily pushed her back, twice as hard. “Don’t touch me, Sabrina!”
Laughing maniacally, Sabrina shoved her again. “Does this bug you, Cecily Wolf?”
Cecily turned her back to her and helped Hazel from the ground. “She’s a jerk, okay. Just, don’t hang out with her anymore.”
“Will you be my friend?” Hazel asked with hope.
Next thing going down was Sabrina tackling Cecily to the dirt ground on her stomach in pure anger. Cecily released a loud moan as she tried not to cry, holding her face out of the dirt.
“Don’t touch my friends!” Sabrina screamed into Cecily’s ear.
Cecily elbowed her in the face and pushed her off. “Don’t touch me!”
Sabrina, blood pouring down her face and neck from her nose, glared at Cecily, who had dirt all over the front of her. “My dad is going to fire your dad!”
Making a face at Sabrina, Cecily held Hazel’s hand in hers and they turned their backs.
“No one likes you, Cecily! You’re dad’s a loser and your sister is going to die of disease! And your house is ugly!”
Pausing, Cecily tried to remain calm but couldn’t. Her jaw clenched and her face filled with rage. No one talked about her family like that.
“How does it make you feel that your dad shot your brother?” Cecily yelled over her shoulder. “And that your mother left you all alone? No one loves you Sabrina and you’ll always be hated!”
My eyes widened as I stared at the feisty little nugget who said that.
Sabrina shook as she cried. She couldn’t even muster up a comeback.
“That hurts, doesn’t it?” Cecily turned around and glared at her enemy, patheticall
y kneeling on the dirt ground and crying. “That’s how you make people feel, Sabrina.”
I was shocked. I didn’t remember any of that . . .
“You’ll pay for this, Cecily Wolf!”
In the corner of the baseball field, Darien watched with sadness as he was replaced with Hazel, Cecily’s new best friend.
Kelly just shook his head. “So, this is why Sabrina is the way she is?”
“She’s a bully,” I said quietly, all the anger I had toward her returning to me. “She took every chance she could to make my life a living hell—including killing me, surely.”
We turned around and found ourselves in her house again, but this time it was in current time.
“Where’ve you been, Sabrina?” Gordon asked from his extravagant kitchen filled with recessed lighting and black cabinets. He was getting a drink for him and his wife, it seemed.
Sabrina froze in the dimly lit foyer, hidden from her father’s prying eyes. A portrait of Gordon and Natasha hung on the wall beside her. She looked down at her clothing and saw that her black shirt was ripped. She panicked inside.
Quickly, she buttoned her wool coat. “Studying,” she lied, heading toward the lit kitchen to greet her father, by force.
Her father shot a piercing look at her over the brim of his glasses as she entered. Sometimes she reminded him of her mother in the last days of their marriage––the way she walked so stiffly, so cold. His child always wore clacking shoes and the latest designer clothes and jewelry, something important to him and his image. She carried an air of fearlessness around her, one that she fought to hold on to as he stared at her now, one she thought would fool her father into letting her off the hook. Yet, Gordon knew better. Sabrina had always had an abundant amount of confidence, a natural born leader, but as of late, she seemed so fragile. His daughter seemed scared, unnervingly so.
“Sabrina.” After placing the drinks on the yellow granite counter, Gordon released a patient sigh, splaying his large palms and fingers against the cool granite. “Where were you?”
“Daddy!” Her foot stomped and she pouted. Dramatically, she threw her head back and whined. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Gordon just stared at her, noticing something beyond disturbing about her appearance. “Come here.” He stepped around the counter toward her. “What is on your face and neck?”
Sabrina’s eyes filled with fear and she rubbed her cheek. “It’s makeup. I fell asleep.”
Gordon led her into the light and observed his daughter. “Sabrina,” he said as he touched the spot on her cheek bone––broken, inflamed skin blotted over with concealer. “This isn’t just makeup, baby.”
She winced away from him. “Some girl was jealous and punched me.”
Her father followed the marks down her splotchy neck with his eyes; they led down beneath her coat. His gray eyes widened as he gently touched his daughters exposed, beaten skin. Tears filled Sabrina’s eyes and she pushed her father away.
“Natasha,” Gordon yelled, trying to sound like a strong, tough man, but scared for his daughter’s wellbeing. “Baby, come see this.”
Sabrina really had a fit now. “No!”
Natasha entered, dressed in a white designer strapless jumpsuit, and hesitantly examined Sabrina. Her wary eyes met her husband’s. After flipping gorgeous blond hair over her shoulder to reveal golden jewelry she said, “Honey, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“See!” Sabrina pointed at Natasha. “I told you!”
Gordon’s jaw tensed and he stood taller, showing his dominance. “Coat off,” he demanded. “Now, Sabrina.”
Sabrina saw the paternal fire in his eyes and did as told. After shedding her coat, she covered her semi-exposed body. Rips in her clothing appeared all over, exposing purple flesh underneath. Her head dropped, not even bothering to cover herself.
Natasha gasped and anger filled Gordon’s eyes. “Sabrina, who did this?” he demanded.
Sabrina stuttered. “He’s gone, Daddy! It was a one night stand . . . I swear!”
“Are you lying to me!?” Gordon stared at her. “I’m not stupid, Sabrina!”
“No!” She looked around, trying to buy time to create a story. “He said he was kinky and I didn’t know what that meant by his standards!” Her face became stone and she bit back tears. “It was stupid and it’s over.”
Natasha paled, absolutely horrified. “You willingly did this to yourself?”
“It was rape!” Gordon shook as a need to kill the man who touched his daughter came over him. “Who did it, Sabrina? Stop covering the sick man’s tracks!” Sabrina shook her head like he was wrong. Gordon’s hands pointed toward his daughter’s battered body. “Bruises like this accumulate with time! He’s been at it for a while, hasn’t he?”
Sabrina screamed out in frustration. For once I could see how torn she was. She had a dark secret but couldn’t tell it. “You don’t understand!” Sabrina looked away as tears welled in her gray eyes.
A look of disgust filled her father’s face. “This—this is the last straw.”
Sabrina flashed him that look, the look that could slice his head off cleanly if she so chose. “I’m fine,” she said quietly.
“You aren’t fine! Look at yourself, Sabrina!” A long pause came from Gordon as he shook his head. Piercing eyes shot through her. “You’re grounded. Go upstairs.”
“Daddy!” She started bawling now, seriously too. “You can’t! I have to go to a party on Friday!” Her hand held her chest as she sobbed. “I have to,” she cried, distraught now.
Gordon shook his head, refraining from grasping her shoulders and shaking the truth from her. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “It’s for your safety, Sabrina. You’ve left me no other option.”
Sabrina’s face contorted in fear. She shook as she cried. “Daddy, if I don’t go––”
Gordon held her face in his hands and stared down at her. His face filled with remorse. Perhaps he saw his wife’s sorrow and heartbreak in Sabrina; perhaps he was just baffled by her fit. Either way, he saw something that ripped at his heart. “Sabrina, this is your last chance to tell me. What has happened to you? Are you forced into this?” Gordon’s concerned eyes met hers. “Do I need to call Sheriff Copper?”
“No!” Sabrina screamed and pushed him away.
“You’re terrified!” Gordon's face became red. “Tell me why!”
Natasha put a hand on his chest to calm him. On that hand sat a huge diamond ring worth more than my house. “Gordon, let her go to the party––then she can be grounded,” she said. “I’m sure it’s nothing, as Sabrina says, so just drop it.”
Gordon’s hands were thrown up in the air, knocking Natasha away from him. He grunted in frustration. “You know what, Sabrina? I have worked so hard to make sure that my other child doesn’t end up dead! If that is what you want––to die––then I won’t stop you any longer! Just leave me like your mother did . . . at least that way I won’t have to bury you as well.” He shoved past the two women and left the kitchen.
“Daddy!” Sabrina yelled as he stormed out of the room. “Daddy!”
“You need help,” Natasha said, before following Gordon.
Crying, Sabrina nodded and stood alone in her kitchen. “I do,” she whispered, barely audible. “I need my daddy to protect me.”
My eyes met with Kelly’s and I felt sort of horrible. Why couldn’t she just tell him? She clearly needed to. I couldn’t believe that I felt bad for the enemy.
Chapter 11
Weeks had passed at my high school, or so it looked, and it seemed that people were transitioning into the holiday just fine. Décor filled the walls and mistletoe hung in entrances. Down the main hall was a gathering of candles, which I assumed had something to do with the holidays. But it was not.
Kelly and I moved toward the lit up area hand in hand. He sensed my fear and I sensed his bravery. Together, we seemed to be normal. Maybe. Regardless, he refused to let me go.
Candles
surrounded a picture of a girl, a very pretty girl, a girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes. It was a memorial for a lost child. Roses filled the ground, as well as beads and stuffed animals. It really was something to treasure, the memorial. Someone had taken a lot time and effort to keep the memories of the girl alive in the school.
Anastasia (aka Stacy) sat in the corner, watching the flames burn. She was a middle class member who had no enemies, or so she made it seem. She and I had a painting class together. Junior year, if I recalled correctly.
Stacy was a visionary when it came to using hot wax in painting. Once, she took a chunk of an oak log and painted this epic mural of the coal mine on it. Stacy said she was doing it for her father who was working there. Our fathers worked together actually, making Stacy and I acquaintances throughout life.
Hazel stomped to the memorial and started blowing candles out. She was wearing lots of black. Black fishnet stockings, a black miniskirt, and a black lace top. The only thing not black were her crimson red stilettos and matching bra that was visible through her lace top. Golden hair framed her face and she wore black eye makeup with red lipstick.
“Hey!” Stacy protested. Her brown hair was pulled up behind her head and her blue eyes were filled with shock. Her eyes squinted with annoyance, which caused her chubby cheeks to compact towards the outer edges of her face.
“This is ridiculous,” Hazel said snidely. “Really, Anastasia?” She pointed her hand in the direction of the memorial.
“Someone has to care about her––you obviously don’t.”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed into slits as she balled her hands into fists. “You didn’t even know Cecily! You don’t know me!”
“I knew the old Cecily . . . !”
In a fit, Hazel started kicking the candles away from my memorial. Her eyes reddened as her face contorted. “Take this stupid picture down. NOW!”
