Mean girl_A dark, disturbing psychological thriller

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  “For me, they are all the same.”

  “I’m sure you had a special place in your heart for River since you saved her for last. Okay, Corby, decide. I want to do it with you. I want us to be linked like Bonnie and Clyde.”

  Corby nodded, but said nothing. She liked the people Jacob mentioned and their love that could withstand anything. They loved each other, but they died. Did she want to take part if that was in the scene?

  CHAPTER 42

  Corby again received a brief kiss on the cheek from Jacob before they said their good-byes. She looked into his eyes, but saw that he was somewhere else. Maybe in his world he had already killed Jane. Maybe in his world he had already turned into Clyde and she had become Bonnie. In his world—not in hers. Her world was shrouded in fog from which voices were emanating. In the evening, Corby decided to go to the shop to talk to Sylvia and Vera and ask them not to visit her in her dreams, not to talk to her when she was awake. Corby understood how her thoughts sounded. They sounded like the thoughts of a raving lunatic, but she couldn’t stop them. Neither her thoughts nor the voice. She couldn’t stop Jacob.

  Her parents didn’t mind that she wanted to go to the store, but her father insisted on taking her from door to door and back. There was a maniac somewhere in the neighborhood that was preying on teenage girls, collecting their hair.

  Corby locked the door as her dad requested and promised not to open it to anybody but him when he came back for her. Gaby was gone and Corby did her chores: napkins, windows, flowers, before she entered the refrigerator.

  “I don’t know what to do girls,” she said after examining the frozen corpses. “I love him, you know? He’s so cool. I don’t think I told you, but we had sex. Yes. I didn’t think I would ever have a boyfriend, but I do and not just a regular boyfriend, but the coolest boy in school. Just don’t be jealous. I can’t say that sex is something I couldn’t live without. I could. You have to know that. Or do you like it?”

  This time the girls didn’t respond. When she was close to them, they usually were silent.

  “It’s not important now. We used protection, nothing to worry about. He knows all this stuff, I’m not his first. He’s my first though, yes. He liked it that he was my first. Now he wants to kill Jane. I don’t care if she’s here or not, but I don’t want to kill anymore, you know?”

  Corby waited, listened to the silence. Only now she realized how quiet it was in the fridge. No sounds at all, as if they were sucked out with a huge vacuum. Corby was scared. For the first time in all these years she was scared to be in the shop. She spun around, but there were only shelves of meat behind her.

  “I don’t want to kill any more, but I want to be with him,” she whispered. “He will break up with me if I don’t agree. He’s set on it and not going to retreat. I know he’s not going to retreat. If you could only hear what he told me about his childhood. I can understand him.”

  Corby thought she heard a noise in the shop then a rustling in the refrigerator. She turned slowly and looked at the dead girls. Did she imagine it or had Vera’s eyelids really fluttered? Corby didn’t want to find out. She closed the fridge and in a couple of seconds she was on the street, locking the door of the shop. Another couple of minutes and she shut the door of her house and listened to her dad’s reprimand when he ran into the hallway after hearing the noise.

  “I told you to call me before you left!” he said.

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  Dad looked closely at her.

  “You came back fast? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I finished everything and came home. What would I do there for a long time?”

  “Let’s have dinner,” Mother said, coming out into the hallway too.

  “Okay.”

  Corby wanted to go to her room, but she was an obedient daughter. She was the same as before this whole mess started. Suddenly, she really wanted to go back in time. She could leave the school at that time and not kill anyone. Why, why didn’t she think about changing schools before?

  After dinner, when she was going to bed, she received a message from Jacob.

  How are you, babe? What did you decide? he asked.

  Corby became angry for a second. Was that all he was interested in now? Only murders? Then she remembered that when she decided to kill Sylvia, her thoughts were concentrated only on that. Why should he be any different?

  Corby: Are you going to do it again?

  Jacob: No. This will be the only time.

  Corby didn’t believe that answer. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t believe him. Maybe because Jacob talked about it today. Maybe because his eyes were burning.

  “I’m scared,” she wrote. “Let’s forget about it, please. Let things remain as they are.”

  He shouldn’t get upset with her, she thought, but she couldn’t force herself to do this action again. She couldn’t.

  “I love you,” he wrote in response.

  Corby cried when she wrote that she loved him too. She didn’t know what his answer meant, only hoped that he agreed with her. Maybe he was even grateful that she stopped him. He couldn’t do anything about what he had done already, but he could prevent future crimes.

  She turned off the light and went to bed, but immediately heard the sound of rustling plastic, as if someone wanted to get out of a plastic bag. And, of course, she heard voices. Sylvia and Vera didn’t want to be alone in the shop and wanted to get into her room. Corby jumped and turned on the light. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Then she climbed into the closet, put her arms around one of the stuffed toys, and tried to get comfortable for sleep. She couldn’t stay in the bed, open to everything and everyone.

  CHAPTER 43

  Jacob and Corby messaged each other and talked on the phone until the end of the week. He never mentioned Jane or what he was going to do to her in any context; not a clue. Corby was more than happy about that and hoped that she was able to change his mind so easily without pushing or ruining their relationship. He couldn’t meet with her because some relatives from New York came for a visit and he had to entertain his cousin. He promised that they would meet on Friday.

  At the same time, Corby began receiving messages on her phone with pictures of dead pigs that were labeled meat or fat pig. Corby knew who sent these messages and deleted them without answering. She knew that if she reacted then her emotions would turn on and she might reconsider her decision. Of course she didn’t like Jane, she hated her, but she still didn’t want to see her dead body in the refrigerator of the shop. She thought she could ask her mother to change her phone number. After all, if that happened, nobody would be able to reach her, not even Jane. It wasn’t difficult to accomplish and Corby intended to do it. After that, Jane should calm down. Corby thought that in a few years, perhaps after graduating from college, she could find Jane and talk to her one-on-one. At that age, she should already be sorry for her actions in school and could apologize. Who knew? They could even become friends.

  Corby thought about it and chuckled. Not friends, no way. Corby would never forgive and forget what Jane had done to her. Or could she? After all, she didn’t want to kill her and that meant she had forgiven her already. If she thought about it, she didn’t care what Jane did.

  What happened to her? Why did she suddenly stop paying attention to what people said about her? Probably because they were away from each other and Jane couldn’t do anything, but send pictures and messages. And if Corby wanted to, she could put a stop to it. Forever.

  The teacher came on Friday and Corby passed the test that completed her math lessons for this year. She had advanced much faster at home schooling than at regular school and thought that at this rate she would finish her formal education earlier than the others.

  Her parents weren’t at home when Jacob called. He seemed excited and happy at the same time.

  “Corby, can you meet me?” he asked. “My relatives left this morning and I’ve missed you.”

  “I think I can. What
would you like to do?”

  “I’d like to do a lot of things, but today I can pick you up and we can just ride or walk. The weather is cool.”

  Corby remembered Jacob’s room, with its gray walls, modern furniture, tons of photos and prizes from his various school events and sports. She remembered the smell of marijuana and dizziness, Jacob’s hands on her body and his heavy breathing. She didn’t know what she wanted more: that or strolling. He could hug and kiss her there too. She wanted to feel his closeness no matter what they decided to do.

  “Okay.”

  “Is fifteen minutes enough or do you need more time?” Corby looked at her sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Are you somewhere nearby?”

  “Near.”

  “Okay, I’ll be ready. But I need time to get to the cafeteria.”

  “How about thirty minutes?”

  Corby threw the phone on the bed and ran to the bathroom. She had never dressed with such speed and in twenty minutes she went down from the apartment. She didn’t see Jacob’s car next to the cafeteria, but he pulled up as soon as she stopped.

  “Hey,” she said, already expecting the usual kiss, but Jacob didn’t do it, just responded verbally to her greeting. He looked focused and serious.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Couldn’t be better.” Jacob turned to her for a moment, smiled, and Corby wanted to leave the car. She felt the same as before when he told her about Jane. Fear.

  “Are you sure nothing happened?” she asked.

  Jacob smiled, looked at her, then turned back to the road.

  Suddenly he became strange and distant to her and Corby thought she had dreamed of a relationship with him. Did she dream of his kisses and of them making love? His room, the smell of the forbidden, the recognition of love? It seemed that everything was just a dream. Or a game of the imagination. He was here, she didn’t even need to reach out to touch him with her hand, but he was as far away from her as ever. Or as before when she first met his gaze. Corby watched movies and even read books about people creating situations, scenes, even whole worlds and they thought it was really happening to them when in reality it was only in their heads. Then maybe she didn’t kill Sylvia? Could that be a dream too? Could it be something she wanted to do, but would never do in reality?

  Could her murder be a game of her mind?

  “No darling, you killed us for real,” the voice in her head said. “And the proof is the earrings and the pendant that you put on before leaving home. Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Corby mumbled.

  “What?” Jacob asked.

  “Nothing,” Corby said touching her ears. She didn’t even think what she was doing when she put the earrings in her ears and hung the pendant around her neck. It could be proof that she was completely out of her mind and created something that didn’t exist. She even wanted to ask Jacob about that, but he was so far away.

  “Why are you wearing the earrings and pendant? Are you proud of killing us?”

  “Of course she’s proud,” her inner voice answered for her. Maybe it was her alter ego. She didn’t know. “Of course. Some act that not everyone can commit.”

  “Indians put skulls of their enemies around their necks and you wear our jewelry.”

  Corby closed her ears with her hands, but what good would it do? The voices were inside her head. Jacob didn’t notice her condition, he was concentrating on the road, and when Corby finally looked forward, she saw that they were driving in the vicinity of Boston, where she had never been and didn’t even have any idea where it was. Maybe they weren’t even in Boston anymore.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “I’m taking you to a very interesting place. It’s an old, rundown school. No one ever comes here now. My grandparents used to live here with my mother when she was little. It was her first school. Developers bought this place like two years ago, but haven’t gotten to it. One day they will rebuild everything, add some high-rise buildings, new stores. That was what my mother said. Now it just has a sign telling people to stay away, that it’s a closed territory.”

  “Why do we have to go there?” Corby asked. She took hold of the handle of the door, but didn’t know how it could help her. Why would she need help anyway? For what reason? From whom?

  They drove through a half-opened gate, around the abandoned building, and stopped near a door that was torn from its hinges. Some of the windows of the building had been shattered, but many still remained unbroken. The yard was littered with debris, pieces of barbed wire, stones, empty bottles, and scraps of papers that flew, driven by the wind.

  Jacob opened the door on his side and looked at Corby.

  “Why are we here?” she asked. Whispering.

  “I love you Corby,” Jacob said. “How about you?”

  “Me too. I love you.” Corby squeezed the handle of the door.

  “Then we’ll get through this to the end and will be together forever.”

  “Through what?”

  Jacob looked into Corby’s eyes for some time then hopped out of the car and slammed the door so hard that Corby jumped.

  He stood and waited for her to come out, but Corby was in no hurry. Her heart was hammering, her thoughts intertwined into a chaotic tangle without a clear idea. What did he want from her? Maybe he wanted to kill her? Or he wanted to kill himself and her as Romeo and Juliet? If this were the case and his idea of “staying together forever” then she probably should think again. She loved him and wanted to be with him, but she wasn’t ready to die. He’d lost his mind.

  Jacob knocked on the glass and Corby took a deep breath before exiting the car.

  When she left the house, she didn’t notice that it was windy and now she wrapped her jacket tightly against an unexpected gust of cold.

  “I don’t like it,” she said. She said it and remembered how she had once planned to kill Jacob. It seemed so long ago, maybe in another life. She was only fifteen now, but she felt much older. She didn’t even know how old, because she didn’t understand how people felt when they were twenty or thirty. Did they feel suddenly tired and frightened? Did they suddenly realize that life was short?

  “You will like it,” Jacob assured. “You have to trust me, it’s important. Do you trust me? I want the best for us. The best for everyone.”

  “I don’t know what you want.”

  “Corby, I always did what I wanted and achieved what I planned. My mother felt guilty about her boyfriend and set me almost no boundaries. She’s strict about my education and worries about my safety, but that’s about it. I was captain of the football team last year and then I got sick of it, but if I had wanted to, I would have stayed the captain.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Let’s go.” Jacob waved his hand toward the building.

  “I don’t want to go there.” Corby shook her head.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I want to go home.”

  “Corby.”

  They talked over the car roof and now Jacob walked around it and took Corby’s hand.

  “You don’t think I’ll do something bad to you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, lowering her eyes for a moment.

  “I love you. I’ll never hurt you. You are the most interesting and strongest person I’ve ever met in my life and you’ve already suffered enough in all these years. You deserve the best and I’ll give you the best.”

  “Why are we here now?” Corby didn’t remove her hand from Jacob’s, but she wanted to. His hand was cold and he held her wrist tightly.

  “Come on,” he said and smiled.

  Corby stood for a few more seconds and then followed the hand that dragged her. She tripped on a stone and almost fell, but Jacob supported her.

  He turned on the flashlight as they entered the building, but the light from the windows was enough to not keep a single corner in the shade. A few broken chairs and tables, posters on the walls. One of th
em, ripped in half, talked about how bad it was to bully your classmates.

  The flashlight came in handy when they entered the hallway. It picked out cobwebs, broken bottles, and cigarette butts. Corby smelled mold and dampness.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We are almost there.”

  She didn’t know where almost there was, but after a few steps down the hallway, she heard a noise. As if a huge mouse was scratching somewhere.

  “What is that?” Corby asked and stopped.

  Jacob did the opposite, speeded up.

  “She woke up already,” he muttered. Corby thought she misheard.

  “Jacob, what’s happening?”

  He took a couple of steps to the end of the hallway and stopped at the door. A three-legged chair was propped under the handle. As if someone didn’t want another someone inside the room to get out. But no one could be there, Corby thought, looking at the trail of clean on the dusty floor. Like something was dragged here.

  The voices whispered something in her head, but she ignored them.

  Jacob moved the chair away and opened the door, directing the flashlight inside the room. Corby looked at his face and saw him smiling when he turned to her.

  “Come here!” he said cheerfully.

  “What’s there?” Corby remained in place and Jacob took a step toward her, grabbed her arm, and heaved her toward him. He sent the light in the middle of a tiny room. A pile of something moved and bellowed. Corby thought that her eyes were deceiving her and stared at the pile. She blinked, then blinked again, but nothing had changed. There was a tied person on the floor. There was a young woman. This woman was Jane.

  She lay among dirty baskets, mops, and packaging from detergents, and looked at Corby with her eyes full of horror. Those eyes were red and tearful. Her mouth was stuffed with a cloth or a sock, and her whole face was covered with mud and blood.