by Adalynn Rafe
“I don’t know,” I whisper, terrified. “I need my mother. Where is she?”
“Ces, you haven’t talked to us for freaking months!” Adie exclaims and rises to her feet. Her brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail and no makeup covers her big, brown eyes. The orange baggy shirt she wears hangs from her bony shoulder, revealing the strap of a white sports bra. “And you’re dressed normal. What’s happened to you?”
And then I remember. She wore white, she told me to change, she warned me of evil things. “An angel came to me, Adie.” My heart hurt and I made this whiny noise as I started crying. “She said that you died, that Hazel died, that so many bad things would happen, though I forgot somehow . . . . All because I died!”
“But you’re alive before us.” Daphne’s eyebrow rises as she just watches me cry. “Hmm. An angel, you say?”
Jema looks at me oddly. “When did you see the angel?”
I become cross. “Don’t call me crazy! I saw it!”
Jema exchanges scared looks with Daphne. “I believe you,” she says. “Sorry.”
Adie evaluates me closely. “You’re scared.”
“You have no idea . . .” My lip quivers and I cover my face with my hands, sobbing. Adie is right there, arms wrapped tightly around me, whispering that things will be okay. “I don’t want you to die, Adie!”
Daphne and Jema join the circle of hugs. For once, in a long time, I fell whole and loved.
After a minute, Daphne teases, “Honestly, though, I liked the skank look on Cecily––it was hot.” We laughed and sniffled. “Goth-punk worked wonders for you.”
We separated, though Adie kept a firm arm on my shoulders.
Jema’s brow rises. “You’re going be okay, Ces.”
The three crazy girls wrap their arms around me in another group hug.
I look up and find that my mother is standing in the entrance of the living room. The blue walls of the kitchen behind her are soothing. She’s watching our interactions and has the brightest smile in the whole world on her face. “It’s nice to see my beautiful daughter,” she says to me.
“I thought that I would tell you that I’m leaving, just FYI, I guess.” I rub my neck anxiously. Awkward moment! I know she loves me and always has, but I feel extremely guilty for all the crap I put her through.
“Going to that partay?” Jema asks and lightly taps my arm. “Gonna get crunk?”
I glare at her for a minute. “No. I’m going to get Hazel. We’re going to crash your party tonight.” A smile lifts my face. “There will be no discussion.”
My mom’s eyes fill with relieved tears. “Sounds perfect.” It’s almost a whisper.
“Yeah, it does! Hazel owes me a rematch in arm wrestling. She totally cheated last time,” Adie adds seriously. “I’m going to take her out!”
We laugh at our precious, fragile Adie.
“I’ve had a few months to gain more strength. I’m going to beat her this time!” Adie exclaims.
I feel guilty for pushing them away for that long. There is lots of time to make up for. “Okay, bye!” I yell as I head toward the front door.
“Hey, sis!” Adie yells. “Get me some Twizzlers!”
“Gross!” I make a face. “I’m getting grape Red Vines!”
“Come on, Ces!” Adie pleads.
“Okay, okay,” I cave. I roll my eyes before laughing.
When setting my hand on the door knob, I hear a sound. In all honesty, it sounds like my dog Bandit. This makes absolutely no sense because Bandit is dead.
I step into the chilly autumn night, taking note of the tall tree with changing leaves, and get into the old sedan. The song that comes on the stereo is “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and this time it makes me giddy with happiness and not terrified. Perhaps I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for.
Chapter 26
“Come on!” I yell out the window, honking at her mini mansion while turning my music up louder. After flipping the visor down and exposing the mirror, I apply sheer lip gloss perfectly to my pout. Naturally, I catch myself looking at the bags around my eyes and cringe internally.
Hazel, dressed in skank clothes, runs to the car––Mom’s rustic sedan––teetering on high heels and opens the door quickly. It squeaks annoyingly.
“You’re wearing that?” we both ask at the same time.
“We’re going to my house,” I explain, first. “Hence the jeans.”
Hazel rolls her eyes. “You said we were going to that party! The one with all the royals!” I can see her eye twitching. “You said it was mandatory!”
I stare at her for a minute as dread begins to seep into my psyche. “Hazel, was I drinking when I said that?”
Laughing, Hazel gives me a look. “When are you not drinking?”
My stomach drops and tears fill my eyes. This is so much worse than I thought. What had I become before I woke up from my miracle nap?
“Ces?” Hazel asks with concern, catching my energy change.
Smiling, I am forced to fill my face with happiness once more. “No, I changed my mind. We are going to my house tonight. Adie wants a rematch in arm wrestling.”
A very shocked and confused look fills Hazel’s face. “Say what? Are you sure, because for the past few months, you have wanted nothing do with your––”
“Go change,” I cut her off, leaning across the upholstered seat to pat her cheek. “Hurry up! They are going to start Dracula without us!”
“Um,” Hazel mutters. “Um, okay. I’m glad I spent two hours getting ready for nothing!”
My glance fills with brutal honesty. “Hazel, your bra is showing and you look like a skank. Go change!”
Hazel begins to laugh hysterically at my comment. “This can’t be real, I must be dreaming!” She looks at my conservative clothing and her mouth gapes open. “You look like the old Cecily!” Her face fills with joy. “Is this real?” she whispers.
“You’re wasting gas!” I remind her. “Hurry up and change!”
“No engine idling in the parking lot,” she reminds me and I roll my eyes. She sticks her tongue out at me. “I’m telling the EPA!”
“They’re too concerned with the gas coming out of cow butts at the moment to care about anything legit!” I start to laugh. “We are missing Dracula!”
Laughing loudly about cow butts, Hazel runs inside to change.
Flipping the visor down, I look into the mirror at the hazel eyes that stare back at me. They seem so tired and worn out, but I see a spark of life again. I angle my jaw up, only to see a spot on my neck. It’s not familiar to me. After touching it, I realize that it’s in the shape of a mouth. Someone bit me . . . ?
Another shudder rattles through me and I know for a fact that I did not partake in anything sexual . . . not willingly, at least. I would have some sort of recollection, wouldn’t I? So where did these bruises and bite marks come from? I mean, I would know if I had my first kiss. It’s, like, the most taboo thing in the world!
“What has happened to you, Cecily Wolf?” I ask myself. I don’t know what, why, or how, but I changed and detoured from the nasty path I was on. I don’t even know entirely what path I was on to begin with, but it wasn’t a good one. It is all because I passed out and woke up again that I am alive, I’m sure. But who is the other Cecily, the one who wanted to go the party to begin with? It surely isn’t me. Can Daphne be right about possession? It is starting to sound like a viable option to me . . .
Hazel is back and wearing a white baggy shirt and navy stretch pants tucked into brown boots. “Hallelujah! I did not want to wear those heels all night.”
The visor flips back up and I look at Hazel with a smile. “Would I make a good nun?”
Green eyes narrow and she questions my sanity. “Who are you again?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll stick to being a good Cecily.”
She hops in the car and a smile stretches across her face when she looks at me. I have an urge t
o wrap my arms around her. I do and squeeze her tightly, resulting in a loud protest from Hazel.
“Oh, quiet your riot!” I sweep away her drama with my hand.
“I love you too, Ces.” Hazel punches my arm lightly. “I haven’t seen you this happy since––well––a long time actually. What happened? Did you finally get your first kiss?”
Laughter fills the car. “No! No first kiss. Maybe in the next century. You?”
“No!” She hides a look as she stares out the window. Is someone on her mind?
“No kiss from that one kid, Bradyn?” I tease, trying to catch her bluff.
After pushing my arm, Hazel laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, Ces, my seventh grade crush,” she replies sarcastically. “Oh, I have a funny, though!”
I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway. “Do share the funny,” I say and put the car in drive. We are heading for the store to buy various types of licorice.
“I guess that Bradyn got yelled at because he mouthed off at Mr. Leison. Supposedly Leison had his facts wrong about our town and Bradyn found it offensive. He was thrown in detention and––” her voice keeps going but the words turn into nothing as a horrible feeling comes over me. “He’s so stalkward.”
“Stalkward?” I ask her, being that it’s, like, the only thing I heard. Or, so I want to tell myself. Something isn’t settling right between me and this story.
We drive down the highway to go into our small, out-skirted town. There is nothing out here but fields and fields and dirt and dying crops––bunches of creepy corn stalks. Just a mile or so down the road is the church, a few blocks after that, the grocery store.
Hazel nods. “Awkward stalker. Leison is stalkward. He is seriously like the creepiest human alive!”
My hand rises, telling her to stop talking. My head starts pounding and my eyes widen. This horrible feeling enters me, like death almost, and I can’t drive anymore. I pull over to the side of the road and get out of the car in sheer horror.
Mr. Leison––no––not that name! I would do anything to not hear that name right now!
“Cecily!” Hazel yells worriedly from inside the car. I head toward the fields of yellow stalks now, but only make it five feet. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”
Not even my mouth will open to answer. I can’t talk because my vocal cords refuse to work. Paranoia fills me as I look around at the fields of corn stalks that surround each side of the two lane road, but this paranoia has nothing to do with the darkness that physically surrounds me. It’s much worse . . . so much worse.
“What was the name of the man you said?” I whisper, tears escaping my grasp now. Maybe I’m just crazy and there is no affiliation with that name. Please be crazy!
“Mr. Leison. The World Civ teacher,” Hazel answers, right beside me now. “Ces, you’re scaring me!”
Suddenly I can’t breathe or swallow or even think. I touch the spot on my neck with the bite mark and I can feel his mouth on my skin, his teeth biting my flesh, making me want to throw up. “You seduced me,” he whispers in my ear, as if he is standing right beside me.
My hands grasp my body as tears hit my eyes and my chest fills with a horrible, hollowing pain. All the bruises that cover my battered body . . . it’s Leison that did this to me! I can feel his disgusting hands touching me all over again!
There was more than an affiliation with the man. So much more. How could I ever block the memory of what he did to me, something that was so disgusting and twisted? No wonder I was screwed up! I remember all of it now . . . and I wish I didn’t!
My sights meet the dark sky in desperation. A scream of terror sounds from me as I fall to the dirt ground, broken and shattered all over again. All I can do is sob. It’s not fair! I can feel his perverted hands on me, like shadows filled with poisonous venom, beating against my tender flesh. Shivers course through me as I sit up and stare lifelessly ahead. A car passes us and its lights are so bright, but I can’t close my eyes. He’ll be there in my mind, watching me, sneering, finding sick pleasure at the fact that he has made me this way.
“Cecily!” Hazel is screaming, her face red with apprehension and fear. Who knows how long she was screaming before I heard her. “Ces! I’m going to call the paramedics! I think you’re having a seizure!”
My hand reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t,” I whisper and stare up at her. “Hazel,” I mutter before crying again, my aching heart exploding.
She drops to the ground in front of me. “Tell me what’s happened! Please!” she begs with teary eyes. “Please!”
I cover my mouth. All I can do is stare ahead and ignore the horrible pain that burns my chest, the bile that stings my throat. I gulp back a gag of dread and fight the tears that rise in my eyes once more. Hazel is my best friend. She has a right to know. And I trust her not to tell.
We probably look like idiots on the shoulder of the road, but it doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is that I have my best friend beside me.
It’s hard for me to meet her innocent green eyes, like I am some horrible person for what happened to me . . . like I deserved it. “I didn’t want this to be real! I wish it was all a dream, but it’s not! I knew something was wrong, horribly wrong . . . but this? It’s worse than anything I’ve ever known. Maybe I deserved it, Haze! Why?!”
Hazel holds my shoulders calmly. “Ces, cool down. Just tell me what’s happened.”
A truck zooms past us and the air fills with exhaust for a minute. We both fan the air before us and try not to choke, and then it’s gone with a cool autumn breeze that passes us.
I stare up at the starry sky again, as if to find courage. “I can’t . . .”
Looking into her eyes, I see she is anticipating what I have to say and is horribly worried. She knows it has to do with Leison. A whining noise comes from me and I have to tell her!
With horror, I pull a corner of my collar down to expose a portion of a bruise on my chest. “Mr. Leison molested me!” My eyes widen and I cover the spot again.
A car passes us and Hazel gasps loudly, almost choking on the news.
“I completely blocked it until you said his name.” I sniffle and look at Hazel, who in turn stares at me with worry. “True story, Haze. I have been so terrified and he said that I couldn’t tell anyone, that no one would ever believe me! He’s talked to the psychologist and Iles––the only confidant I could ever have in that blasted school! No one believes me, Hazel!” Another whine sounds from me and my lip quivers. “And he threatened Adie if I told,” I whisper, terrified.
“When did this happen?” Hazel’s hands cover her gaping mouth as tears fill her own eyes. “I knew something was wrong,” she whispers, barely audible.
It is all too clear to me now. “It happened, like, a week ago, after class.” Once again, I gulp loudly as I stare at the street, filled with a few more passing cars. This is the hard part. “He claimed that that I seduced him or something, with the miniskirts, and the exposed thigh, and the tight shirts!” A gasp of despair sounds from me. “Was I really like that?”
Hazel clenches my shoulder and gives me an affirming, dreadful nod. “I heard rumors of you seducing him, Ces, but I wouldn’t believe it until I heard it from you. You didn’t seduce him, right?”
“Is there any doubt?” I ask, my vision blurring and my lip quivering once again.
Hesitance fills Hazel. “Ces, you were dark, like midnight-black kind of dark. You went into skank mode, twirled your hair with malice, and sucked the wrong type of men toward you.” She is dead serious. “You turned into Sabrina.”
She is right! I see it now, all of it! The miniskirts, the cleavage, the way that Leison watched me for so long . . . worst of all, the royal attitude I had acquired. I was a horrible, horrible person! “I am a disgusting whore!” I scream and bow onto the ground again in misery. “It’s my fault that this happened!”
“It’s not your fault!” Hazel yells, grabbing my shoulders and lifting me up. “It
’s not your fault. He’s a sick man! You just lost yourself in your depression, that’s all! He abused you!”
“I don’t know what happened to me, I can only see the glimpses of the dark being that I had become,” I whisper painfully. “How horrible was I?”
“Well, besides being a bossy slut and drinking my dad’s liquor, you were mainly just dark and sad. You kept talking about death.” Hazel sighs worriedly and the breeze blows a thick strand of golden hair into her face. “I tried to decipher it and all I could see was that you wanted to be recognized, be brought back into the fold of the family, back into the loving arms of your mother, but you didn’t know how to get there.”
I stare at her awkwardly and hold my hand up to keep the light from cars headlights out of my face. “How do you know all this crap?”
“AP Psychology, remember?” Hazel tucks the strand of hair behind her ear.
My lips purse and I almost remember something about yelling at someone in a hallway, someone that was with Hazel.
“What are you thinking?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Did he like . . . you know what?” Hazel asks reluctantly, after a minute. “Leison,” she whispers.
Just the mention of that name makes me shiver with disgust. “No! Just, like––molestation. Nothing else.” And then, the pit of despair returns to my stomach and my chest starts burning. Instead of screaming out again, I somehow calmly say, “He did say something about seeing me later though . . . for initiation?”
“We have to tell, Ces! That psychologist you’ve been talking to . . . well, you can’t tell her, can you. We can tell Sheriff Copper, though!”
My eyes widen and I remember that part all too clearly. “He’s been talking to him too! Copper won’t believe me!” Nothing is worse than seeking help from the one person you know you can and seeing your offender being buddy-buddy with him. I can still see the bushes that I stood behind and the orange glow of the street light. “Copper is no longer an option, Hazel.”
