No, she didn’t. She feared the repercussions of calling the police. “Here is a thousand dollars.” Mr. Henning tapped a stack of bills on the dresser. “That should cover the amount Mandy stole from you. On your eighteenth birthday you’ll get a tidy sum to replace what Mandy spent. All total, a nice nest egg. It would be a mistake to strike out on your own without it.”
“Why are y-you doing this?”
“Because you earned it, you nasty little whore.”
Amanda broke down in tears. She didn’t finish crying until after Mr. Henning had left the room. Then she padded across the floor to gather her money. Accepting it made her feel like a prostitute even though she didn’t recall having done anything. Nor would she willingly do any such thing. Yet without anyone to count on for support, she couldn’t pass up the money.
Amanda went straight to the bathroom she shared with Amy and took the longest, hottest shower in her life. She didn’t shut off the water until its temperature turned tepid. She hated them all, hated this place. She longed to boot up the computer and check the date, see how much longer she must endure this hell.
Amanda stepped out of the shower still feeling dirty. With a hand towel, Amanda wiped condensation from the mirror over the sink. She then used her brush to work out the ratty wet mess of her hair. She spied something odd in the mirror and pulled back her hair for closer inspection. A tattoo. On the back of her neck.
A spider crawling up her skin couldn’t have frightened her more. Tentatively, she touched her skin and experienced no pain, no tenderness. The tattoo had been there a while. Two-and-a-half, maybe three inches in diameter, the image of a serpent swallowing its own tail brought shivers to her skin.
Amanda didn’t know how she knew—yet none the less she knew—the symbol of Ouroboros represented a primal Id and a continual rebirth of … psyche and persona?
Trembling hands draped her long hair around her body and she crossed the hall to her room naked, not caring who might see her. When you cannot control your own mind, Amanda thought, what does the body matter?
Nobody saw her. Somehow she assumed the house belonged to her for the moment, a fleeting timespan soon to end.
Amanda dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve blouse despite the apparent nice weather. She didn’t want any more flesh exposed than necessary. She checked the date on her cell phone. May 10th. The display also alerted her to awaiting voice mail.
You have two new messages. Message One:
Kat’s voice said: Mandy, we’re golden. Stacy’s posse is scared to death of us; they won’t say shit. As for that holy fucker, well, nothing to worry about there. Call me, bitch.
Beep! Press One to …
Amanda pressed Seven to delete.
Message Two: Yo, this is T-Bone. Whazzup? Ain’t seen you at the Grill all week. Mr. Plum is shitting sundaes he’s so mad. You should show up Tuesday, yo, if you wanna keep your job. If not, call me. I scored some primo weed—we should get high. Peace out.
Stacy’s posse? Nothing to worry about? Primo weed? Peace out?
Amanda didn’t know any T-Bone, although the voice did sound familiar. Wait, he called with a warning about Mr. Plum. Tony!
Oh my goodness, what did I do with Tony? Amanda thought.
But that wasn’t all. In her text message history she found, in addition to odd texts from Kat and T-Bone, Amanda found sext messages—holy crud—from Brad. She could just die!
Amanda needed to check the graduation date on-line. Her rubbery legs barely carried her into the computer room. In addition to the ill feeling washing over her, a headache had started to form. She booted the computer and logged into the Monarch Prep portal. There she found a graduation date of May 24th, the day after her birthday. Fourteen days. Only two weeks. Without chores to tie her to the Henning house, she could stay gone every day, only returning home to sleep. With a chair propped against her door, she would be safe. Everything seemed so confusing, so diabolical. She needed to get out of this house, go somewhere where she could think.
What she needed to do was talk to Mr. Plum about her job, something she would definitely need come graduation. She also needed to deposit the thousand dollars in the bank and check her balance. She needed to take precautions to prevent Mandy, whoever she was, from stealing any of her money.
Before logging out she checked her Monarch Prep email. Amanda found a weeks old message from her friend Pammy, asking what had come over her and why she didn’t want to be friends anymore.
But I do! Amanda thought, and sent a quick message of apology to her best friend, urging her to call her cell phone as soon as possible. After that, Amanda left the horror of the Henning home, hopped on her bicycle and pedaled away to run her errands. She avoided Monarch Prep campus proper and felt relieved almost immediately …
… Although deep down she knew she must return.
* * *
“Oh, my gosh, Pammy, you’re pregnant again,” Amanda said before she could stop herself.
“Afraid so, but you already knew that.”
Amanda changed the subject by gesturing for her friend to have a seat. “Here, I bought you a decaf latte, your favorite.”
“Thanks. But why the sudden change of heart? I have to admit, I was surprised when I got your message.”
Amanda struggled to control her emotions. Her eyes became glassy and her chin quivered when she spoke. “I think I’m going crazy.”
“Aren’t we all. I tell you—”
“No, Pammy, I mean it. Completely, certifiably in-freaking-sane.”
Pammy held Amanda’s trembling hand. “Amanda, you’re the sanest person I know.”
“How well do you really know me? I mean really? I don’t even know myself anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Me. I cannot recall anything I have done or said since winter. To top it off, this other girl, someone named Mandy, has—”
“What are you talking about? You are Mandy. You’ve been calling yourself Mandy ever since you started hanging with Kat. By the way, what’s up with that? You too cool for me now that you’re with her?”
“No, it was the other way around. You delivered your baby, then you didn’t want anything to do with me. Remember?”
“No, that’s not how I remember it at all.”
“Well, how do you remember it?”
Pammy contemplated for a second. “I don’t know. I just know you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”
“See? Crazy.”
“Yeah,” Pammy agreed. “That is odd.”
“And here is something else odd, I found cigarettes in my purse and I really-really wanted to smoke one.”
“So, smoke one.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t smoke.” Amanda sniffled, wiped away a tear.
Pammy looked deep into her eyes. “You are serious, aren’t you? You really don’t remember calling yourself Mandy? Your last memory was months ago?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Wow.”
“But that’s not all. It started with little things, things like, I don’t know, a hairbrush moving. I thought I had simply misplaced it, although I always put it back in the same spot. I might be in one room but then suddenly find myself in another room. Crazy.”
“That’s not so crazy. I do that all the time.”
Amanda looked at Pammy in horror.
“Tell me you’re kidding. Do you really?”
“Yeah, I mean, I think so. I don’t know. I’ve been a pregnant hormonal mess for as long as I can remember. Stuff like that is bound to happen, right?”
“I don’t know, is it? I mean really, is it?”
“Stop it,” Pammy said, “you’re scaring me.”
“Scaring you? I’m terrified.”
“Amanda, volume.”
Amanda caught a barista giving her a dirty look. “Sorry.” She then sipped her cappuccino, hoping it might help with her pounding headache.
Amanda broke the silence: “There are othe
r things, too. Text messages, phone calls. My room is a mess, and I found this dirty shirt. A stained shirt. I don’t know, but I think the stains might be blood. I ruined a blouse once, when I cut my finger making dinner. The spots looked the same.”
“Listen to yourself, girl. You have to stop jumping to conclusions. So maybe you cut yourself again. No big deal.”
“You don’t understand. There was a lot of stains. I think someone got hurt, and I believe Mandy had something to do with it.”
“What have I been telling you? You are—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”
Pammy sighed, said, “Okay.” She sipped her coffee.
“Look,” Amanda said, “I realize how crazy all this sounds. And whatever is happening, my foster parents are involved.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I just know. They are … perverted. I am so ready to move out of that place. I don’t know if I can last two more weeks.”
“Did Mr. Henning do something … ?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Actually, I do. Did he do something to you?”
Amanda sobbed. “Mr. Henning does a lot of stuff. He’s punished me, which was bad enough, but I believe he did other stuff to me, too.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Hm … I’m no expert, but maybe you’re repressing memories.”
“Maybe. But it’s not like I can afford to see a shrink.”
“I’m sure Mr. Henning has good insurance.”
“Oh no. I’m not involving him in any of this.”
“Sorry. I’m just trying to help.”
Amanda tried to smile. “Being here for me when I need you helps tremendously. Enough about me, how is your baby?”
Pammy, looking down, patted her growing belly. “Growing like a weed.”
“No, I meant your other baby.”
“I don’t have another baby.”
“Sure you do. Right after you delivered it, things got weird between us.”
“I …” Pammy seemed confused. “Well … That’s odd. I believe Mother sent it away to a foster home.”
Amanda’s breath faded away. She grew light-headed, thought she might topple out of her chair. Pammy, squeezing her hand, brought Amanda back to reality. Tears now flooded down her face and she felt she had nowhere to turn.
“Good Lord,” Amanda said, “whatever is going on, it’s much bigger than just what’s happening to me.
“There’s nothing good about the Lord,” Pammy said.
Amanda’s friend’s words rang true, same as they struck fear into her. Amanda agreed, “No, there is nothing good about the Lord, is there?”
“Hell no.”
“But how do I know this to be true? How do you?”
“Because my parents taught me so.”
Amanda’s parents, at least the ones who had raised her, as far as she could remember, had taught her those same things, hadn’t they?
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Amanda said.
“You should go to the restroom.”
“Wait, no, I’m okay—for now.”
“Sure?”
“No, but I can’t handle any more. Not now. Just believe me when I say, I swear I’m not Mandy.”
“Do you swear on a stack of Bibles?” Pammy joked.
Amanda didn’t find humor in the comment; it angered her and she said, “I would never swear on a stack of Bibles.”
Pammy’s smile faded. “Neither would I.”
Their comments struck fear in Amanda. Her words had slipped out of their own accord, which caused her to reflect on the Henning house. “Wait a second,” she said. “Why wouldn’t we swear on a stack of Bibles?”
“Because Lucifer wouldn’t love us any more.”
Amanda saw flashes of Satanic symbols
on the living room wall
and in the basement
Amanda, crying, said, “We have to do as we’ve been told, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do.”
Amanda looked at her friend in a new light. Pammy wore the dress of a breeder, didn’t she? Its black fabric, along with the white trim around the buttons and its crosshatch now resembled, at least to her, an inverted cross. She thought she should turn away, somehow block that realization. Except she couldn’t, nor did she want to.
“Tell me,” Amanda said, “if you have the time, everything you can about your pregnancies.”
“How much time do you have?”
“As long as it takes.”
It took until ten p.m. for Pammy to lay out all the horrifying details, at least as best as she could recall. When things grew fuzzy Amanda prompted her to fill in the gaps with honest assumptions, because Amanda, somehow, knew they would be correct. She also asked many questions, quite a few that Pammy, unfortunately, could not answer. But before they left the coffee shop that evening, Pammy said:
“My next ceremony is scheduled to take place soon.”
Amanda didn’t want to know any more, yet feared not knowing all she could.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Amanda, pedaling casually, made her roundabout way to Sugar Plum Grill. Amy and she had come to a truce which allowed Amanda freedom to go back and forth to school alone and Amy to pretty much do whatever she wanted, so long as she didn’t interfere with Amanda. The two thought it might work until Amanda graduated and moved out.
She planned to stop at the coffee shop on the way to pick up a copy of FREE! Reader Gazette classified ads before meeting with Mr. Plum. Her uniform was packed neatly in her backpack, assuming she still had a job.
Amanda, paper in hand, was heading out of the coffee shop when, from the window, she saw an oddly terrifying sight. A former police cruiser resembling Brad’s cruised by. Was that a redhead in the passenger seat?
By the time Amanda pushed through the door, out of the coffee shop, and onto the sidewalk, the car had reached the end of the block.
But Amanda knew that the car was Brad’s, and Kat was riding with him. But why? What reason would they have for being together like that?
Her eyes welled up with tears but she fought them back. Nothing made sense anymore. She knew she couldn’t trust the Henning family, Amy included. Even her best friend Pammy made her nervous. Some look-a-like named Mandy had been causing her problems, and now Kat … Well, could she ever truly trust Kat? No, not really. But Brad? Her boyfriend, the guy who meant so much to her … ?
Amanda couldn’t trust any of them. Worst of all, she feared she couldn’t trust herself. She stuffed the newspaper into her backpack, climbed on her bike and rode the short distance to Sugar Plum Grill. Mr. Plum was scooping ice cream behind the counter. Amanda stood off to the side until he finished with his customer.
Mr. Plum said, “It’s a surprise to see you, Mandy. You haven’t shown for work in nearly a week.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Plum. I swear.”
A frown covered Mr. Plum’s face. “I’m very disappointed in you, young lady. Come back to my office, we’ll talk.”
In his cramped office he gestured to a chair across from the desk. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
Mr. Plum sighed. “I thought I could trust you, I really did. What happened? Why didn’t you show for work, Mandy?”
Amanda thought she might cry. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Plum. Believe me when I say, I wish I could go back and prevent whatever happened. That isn’t me, not me at all. I don’t know who this Mandy character is, but this is me, Amanda, here today, and I’m ready to be the best darn employee you ever hired.”
The poor man looked tired and confused. He asked quizzically, “Amanda?”
“Yes, sir. If I still have a job, I’m ready to report for work.”
Mr. Plum’s expression seemed to say Kids nowadays as he shook his head. “You can’t work dressed like that.”
“No problem, sir. I brought my uniform.”’
His look
turned very stern. “You’re going to need to step it up a notch, and keep it stepped up. I need to be able to count on you. Understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Plum. I promise.” Amanda looked down, avoiding eye contact. “I can only imagine what trouble you’ve been through, but I assure you I’ll do my best not to let you down again, because … Remember when I talked to you about more hours and possibly going full-time after graduation? Well … This must be the worst possible time to bring it up.”
“When do you graduate?”
“In two weeks.”
“Can I have the old Amanda back?”
Amanda looked up. “Yes, Mr. Plum. The old Amanda, new and improved.”
“The old Amanda will do. If I can have her back, she can work full-time through the summer. We’ll see how that goes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Plum.” Amanda beamed. “I won’t let you down.”
“Okay, okay. Go put on your uniform.”
“Yes, sir.” Amanda shot out of her chair and bolted from the room before he could change his mind. She was headed to change in the bathroom when a voice called out to her:
“Yo, Mandy. Whazzup?”
“Oh. Hi, Tony. Please call me Amanda. And nothing is up. I’m actually kind of busy.”
“Too busy for this?” He pantomimed toking a joint.
“Uh, yes.”
“How ‘bout some-a this?” He thrust his crotch.
“Most definitely.”
“Yo, what gives?”
“Nothing gives—leave me alone. I have a boyfriend.” She dashed out of the kitchen wondering if she truly did have a boyfriend.
A few minutes later, Amanda clocked into work, dressed and ready for business. She didn’t hesitate finding something to do. When not busy helping customers, she stocked product or cleaned the dining area or behind the counter. She actually looked forward to mopping the floor later. She planned to shine it better than it had been shined before. For now she had a job, her means to an end: Moving out from the Henning home. She still needed to find a place to live, and tonight, after work, she would peruse the classified ads. She could hardly wait.
Later in the evening Tony appeared through the door to the kitchen. “Yo, Amanda, wanna join me for a cigarette?”
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