The Prophecy ds-1

by Desiree DeOrto

  She tried to get into my line of sight, and I could feel her almost willing me to speak. “The Nook? What is that?”

  “Bookstore.”

  “Oh, well that’s wonderful! I know how much you love to read!”

  “Whatever.”

  “Star, that’s enough. Talk to me.”

  “I thought I only had to talk to my therapist? That was the deal, right?” My temper flared at that reminder.

  “Starlette Marie Elizabeth McKinley.”

  I winced at the use of my full name and lowered my head. I looked at my mother from beneath my mass of hair. I let out a resigned sigh at the look on her face. “Fine. It's going to suck, okay? The daughter of the store absolutely freaking hates me, and I have no idea why. Well, telling her to take care of her rash in front of those guys probably didn't help anything—”

  “You did what? Why would you talk to Mary Beth's—”

  “It wasn't my fault! She was a major bi—”

  “Language!”

  “Brat to me the entire time, and I just had enough. It wasn't that bad, more embarrassing than anything for her. Then, when I left, I literally ran into the most conceited jerk ever. So no, I'm not happy about anything, this is going to suck, and I do not want to talk about it.” I crossed my arms and glared at her. My eyes narrowed as I caught onto her using the store owner’s name. “Wait a minute, how do you know Mary Beth?”

  My mother's doe-eyed expression may have worked on the opposite gender, but it didn't even touch my suspicion.

  “What do you mean? Who's Mary Beth?”

  “Oh come one Mom! You just said the store owner’s name! I'm not an idiot!”

  She grimaced as I stared her down. Score one for me. “Well, I may have—” she cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable. “I may have run into her before, and asked about whether or not she may be looking for a new employee.”

  I stared at her. I couldn't help it. I knew getting the job seemed to easy, but I thought it was just because Mary Beth was insane. Sweet, but insane. All along it was my mother playing job hunting. “Are you serious?”

  “I knew you wouldn't like any of the other places around here and, honestly, I didn't want you working at them. You'll fit in wonderfully there, Star. I just know it. And Rosemary is in your grade. I figured it would be easier for you to transition if you already had a friend.”

  She looked exceedingly hopeful, expecting me to be grateful. Yes, I knew that The Nook would be the only feasible job for me here, but I wanted to get it by myself. Not to have my life planned out before me.

  “So— tell me more about the conceited jerk.” My head snapped up at her sudden change in topic.

  I felt myself blushing. I refused to meet my mother's eyes and began picking at my nails. “There's nothing to tell. He's a jerk, and I hope I never see him again.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Ugh, Mom! This isn't 'let’s play matchmaker for Star'!”

  “Oh come on. We haven't talked in forever without one of us yelling. Please just talk to me.”

  “The reason we never talk anymore is because you refuse to believe me! You're wanting me to admit to something that I didn't do, and I don't know how it happened!” I stood up quickly, intent on fleeing the room.

  “Your first session of therapy starts tomorrow.”

  I stopped short, feeling like ice had been poured down my spine. “So soon?”

  “You agreed to this. You don't have another option.”

  “Story of my life.” I raced to my room before my mother could see the tears glistening in my eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  The therapist office was suffocating in its over-achievement to appear soothing. The cool pastel green of the walls was supposed to make one feel soothed. Instead, they grated on my nerves, and caused a slight ache to appear behind my eyes. Hanging plants were placed in every available area that obtained sun, making me feel like I was in the middle of a green house.

  I stared at the worn out gray carpet while absently chewing on my thumbnail, and my knee was bouncing from my nerves. I didn't see the receptionist approach until a pair of sparkling white orthopedic shoes came into view. I jumped back from the invasion of personal space.

  She smiled kindly and told me that 'James' would see me now. I shrugged and gave the woman a small smile of thanks. Taking a steadying breath, I stood up and headed back to whatever was waiting for me.

  From the bright, happy waiting area, the office itself was a major contrast in color choice. Dark cherry wood bookshelves lined the walls with doctorate degrees spread throughout. A heavy desk sat in the middle of the room, facing away from the solitary window on the back wall. Dark brown leather chairs were set facing the desk. I thought this room was far more soothing than the waiting area. I stood in the doorway, waiting for the therapist to take notice of me.

  Pecking away at his keyboard, he was blissfully ignorant of my presence. I took a moment to study him while he worked. He wasn't bad looking for an older man. While being obviously in his mid to late forties, his skin held a healthy, sun-kissed glow. While he had laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, other lines weren't apparent, making him seem younger than he was. His hair was slightly long and shaggy with golden streaks throughout the warm brown tones.

  I stared at him a moment, feeling like I've seen him before. When he finally looked up, my eyes widened in shock. I knew why he seemed so familiar. He was an older replica of the pizza guy. My eyes locked with the same gold flecked amber ones from the first night. I gave him an awkward smile and shuffled slowly into the room.

  He smiled warmly and rose from behind the desk. His large, well-built frame causing a shadow to fall over me. I felt like David in front of Goliath. A friendly Goliath.

  “Hello. You must be Starlette.” I lightly placed my hand in his offered one, nervous about the session, and freaked out over the thought of him being related to the pizza guy. That's all I needed at this moment.

  “It's Star.” I looked behind him at the mounted clock, and started to slowly count down the minutes until the session was over.

  “Ah, I see. Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Gesturing to the chairs he returned to his spot behind the desk.

  I sat lightly on the edge of the farthest seat, my hands already starting to twist my hair. “So. You're my therapist.”

  “Correct, but you can call me James. It's my understanding that your parents had to bribe you to come and talk to me. Under the agreement of you getting a car, you actually have to talk to me.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk, his steady gaze unnerving me in its intensity.

  I felt flustered and started wrapping my hair around my hand faster, never holding his gaze for more than a fleeting second. “Yeah, that's it in a nutshell.”

  “Well, then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?” He didn't wait for a reply as he leaned back in his chair, looking for all the world like this was just a normal day in the office. I wished I could seem so casual. “So, since you have to talk, what do you want to talk about?”

  I stopped my fidgeting to stare at him. “Um, I don't know. I thought you'd just barrage me with a bunch of questions, and I'd have to answer them.”

  He nodded and started to swivel slightly back and forth in his chair. “Well, that could work. However, all we'd get from it would be a bunch of cut and dry answers. That wouldn't really help anything, would it?”

  “Aren't you the therapist? You're supposed to ask me how I'm feeling and all that crap. Maybe have me lie down on a couch, and tell you my childhood nightmares or something.” I was baffled. “I don't know how this is supposed to work. If you don't know either, then, obviously, this is a huge waste of time.” My anger started to build as I rose in agitation. He was a lunatic with a degree.

  “Ha! So you don't know how this works, right?” He said, pouncing forward in his chair, like he just caught me in the act.

  “Um, yeah, I don't.”

  “
And all you're basing your anxiety off of is what you've seen on T.V. or horror stories from people, right?”

  I slowly sat back down again. I hoped he had a point for all of this confusion. “Yeah. I don't see where you're going with this.”

  “It's quite simple really. Before you walked in this office, you had a grudge against it without even knowing what it would be like or what would happen here. You've judged me and these sessions negatively. Thus, creating a negative outlook on it.”

  “Still I don't see what that has to do with anything.”

  “It has to do with this; if you think negatively about everything that goes on here, then we won't get anywhere, and we'll just be wasting time. I'll get paid regardless. There's really not much of a downfall for me. But, I'm one of those damned people who actually like to help, so I would feel bad.”

  “Yeah, that makes me feel so much better about you taking my parents money.” I rolled my eyes, and felt myself start to relax.

  “Glad we've got your feelings about that out there. Anyways, now that you've admitted out loud that you don't know squat about all of this and that you're judging in a negative way. Also, we've come to discover that with you knowing how you're seeing it that we won't get anywhere until you let go of the prejudices.”

  “We did?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?” I rested my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward. This was beyond confusing. I hated feeling like an idiot.

  “Just now. See how you are fully seated in the chair and leaning toward me? It shows that you're relaxed and paying attention. The fact that you're slightly slumped shows that you're comfortable with me and listening to me at the moment. And, you don't have that scared 'deer in headlights' look in your eyes anymore.” His laugh washed over me, making me feel oddly safe, comfortable.

  I contemplated what he said and realized that I was relaxed. The anger that always seemed to be just below the surface was slightly dissipated. “Huh, guess you're right.”

  “Of course I am. I have diplomas and doctorates to prove that I'm right regardless.” His sarcasm had me smiling. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

  “So, where do you want to begin?”

  “At the beginning, of course.”

  “Like, birth?”

  “No. How did you get here? What started it all?”

  Then again, I've been known to be wrong. I tensed as the anger started to rise. “I don't like talking about that.”

  “You know, I've read all the documents from the incident and talked to your psychologist back in California as well as talked to Rebecca,” I flinched slightly at the sound of her name. “What I haven't done though, is judged you or condemned you because of those facts.”

  “I do not like to talk about it. It doesn't matter what you say or don't say, people always judge. Including you.” My anger was rising swiftly. I began to feel the darkness spread, like the toxin my life had become.

  “So you're afraid to talk about it because you don't want people to judge you.”

  “No! I'm not afraid to talk about it and people already do judge me. I don't like to talk about it because I don't have any answers to give!” I threw my arms out angrily then slumped back in my seat.

  “How can you not have any answers when you were there? Didn't you see what happened?”

  “Look, I can tell you what happened. What she was doing, what I was doing. What she said and what I had said. I can even tell you what I was eating for crying out loud, but everything that I would tell you are already in the files that you've read through.” I gestured to the files that were stacked neatly on top of his desk.

  “You're right, these files told me everything, except for the most important part. They won't tell me how your break in friendship with Rebecca started. They didn't tell me how you felt when everything happened, or even how you felt before and after everything happened.”

  “How will that help anything?” I rubbed my hand slowly across my forehead, already weary of this discussion.

  “You'd be surprised. So, how did you and Rebecca become friends?”

  “Do I have to do this?” I looked at him hopefully, praying for some mercy. But by the determined look in his eyes I knew that there was no turning back. I wouldn't be able to get out of this. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the onslaught of breaking open fresh wounds.

  “Fine. Rebecca and I became friends in elementary school.”

  “That young huh? What made you decide to be her friend?”

  I smiled from the memory, it was one of the few good ones I had left. “It was the shirt she was wearing. If you've noticed, I have a tendency to dress in dark colors. Becca was the only girl besides me who wore a black shirt to school that first day, but instead of hers having a hot pink bunny on it, she had a neon blue bunny. We hated each other on sight. During that first day, we didn't talk to each other at all, just kept glaring at each other and making small little comments about whose shirt was better. At the end of the week, we finally had enough and fought it out. Ever since that fight, we were inseparable.” My smile fell as my mind started focusing on everything else that happened.

  “So you were happy with her as your friend.”

  “Yeah, she was like a sister to me. I loved her more than anything and trusted her completely.”

  “When did your friendship start to fall apart?”

  “Freshman year. She wanted us to keep being the same, experiencing the same things. I wasn't ready for a lot of what she wanted us to do.”

  “What was it she wanted you guys to do?”

  I started to panic. I'd never told anyone the entire truth before. No one would have believed me and while I doubted James would I still didn't feel comfortable revealing everything after so many years of lying. Frantic, I looked around for an escape. Seeing the time I breathed a sigh of relief and stood up quickly. “Well, look at the time. Our sessions over. Same time next week?” I left before he could say anything. Mom had already drilled the time into me, so his assent wasn't needed. I was proud of myself. For once I started talking about Rebecca without the darkness taking over. Maybe this was a sign that things would get better.

  Chapter Eight

  Bleary eyed, I felt around my nightstand, trying to find the evil alarm of doom. When I found the nefarious box I started slapping at it blindly, hoping to shut it up. I scooted closer to the nightstand and began hitting it with my fist. “Ugh— just shut up!” I grabbed the cord and yanked on it until it popped free of its outlet, filling the room with blissful silence. I threw the offensive clock to the ground then rolled onto my back and blinked at the ceiling.

  As my eyes came slowly into focus I was tempted to bury myself under the comforter and go back to sleep, but I made the mistake of looking at the time on my cell phone. “Shit.” I jumped out of bed and tripped over the alarm clock. I sent a mental death threat its way as I rushed through my morning routine.

  Mom was waiting by the door with my car keys and a to-go cup of coffee as I ran up the stairs. I mumbled a thanks as I grabbed the items and headed out to my first day of work.

  I found a parking spot closer to The Nook and debated actually going in. Surely I could find a different job somewhere else. I contemplated where else I could work as I looked up and down the street. Hunting shop, hardware store, camping store... general store... shit, there's really nothing in this damn town. Sighing, I got out of the car and prepared myself for a day spent with Rosemary.

  I walked in and was glad to see that it was busy. I glanced around and saw Mary Beth waving from behind the coffee counter. I raised my coffee cup up in greeting and pasted a smile onto my face.

  “Good morning, dear! Sleep well?”

  “Good morning, yes I—''

  “Well, enough chit chat, we've got some things to do today. Come along, no more dillydallying.” Mary Beth fluttered off toward the 'office'. I sighed and began to follow. My coffee cup was ripped from my hand as I rounded the bar.

  “What
the hell!” I watched in horror as Rosemary dumped the contents out into the sink.

  She smiled sweetly and turned back to the customers. “No food or drink brought in from the outside. House rule.”

  “Fine, then can you make me a cup? I'm a zombie without any caffeine.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. Sorry, too busy.”

  “Star! Remember, timeliness is next to Godliness! Now quit making friends, there will be time for that later!” Mary Beth's stern reminder came from the open office door. I sent one last glare Rose's way and headed in.

  The office was a chaotic mess. Files were strewn everywhere and boxes of inventory were stacked haphazardly along the walls. I looked around, searching for Mary Beth among the mass of disarray. “Mary Beth?”

  “I'm here dear, just trying to get this— umph! Ah, here we are.” Rising from behind a pile of bags, she appeared with a uniform in hand. “I believe these will fit just fine.” She handed them over to me and started sorting through piles of paperwork on her desk. “Let’s see, where did I put those—”

  “Can I help?”

  “No, no, you just go on to the bathroom and get changed into your uniform. There's a lot for you to learn today.”

  “Um, where's the ba—''

  “You're going to learn the basics today, nothing too hard mind you. Just our running procedures, book stocking, working the cashier, placement and the like.”

  “That sounds fun, but where—''

  “And of course you're going to have to fill out that blasted paperwork. Where on earth did I put them?”

  “I don't know ma'am, but if you—''

  “Mary Beth.”

  “What?”

  “I told you to call me Mary Beth, dearie. Please try to remember.”

  “Sorry, but where is—''

  “Well go on now, no use standing around. Won't learn anything that way.”

  My head was swimming with Mary Beth's erratic conversation. Shaking my head, I gave up and went in search of the bathroom.

  I was grateful that Mary Beth seemed to know what size I was. I braced myself and quickly walked back behind the counter and waited for Rosemary to notice me. She worked through the line of customers, offering soft smiles and quick jokes as she moved from one customer to the next. I hated to just stand around and was growing impatient. I was at my limit already. Whoever said patience was a virtue should be shot. I started to drum my fingers against the back counter while staring daggers into the back of Rose's head.