Tearing the shower curtain open, I pulled my hair to the side and turned around so that my back was facing the mirror across the way. I outwardly gasped in horror as I observed eight vertical scratch marks running down the bottom half of my back. My mind immediately went to the dream. Jack had clawed into the exact same place. Dr. Richmond told my dad back in January that I could suffer from episodes such as night terrors. I could be in danger of inflicting damage upon myself. It was even common for a person to sleepwalk during these incidents. And only one other set of prints were found around where I had been laying, not eight. And they weren’t even directly by me.
But as I studied the injury, I was certain that my own nails could not account for the direction and length. The gashes were completely straight before flaring out at the bottom, and my wrists didn’t have the capability of making all my fingers line up perfectly for such a long stretch. Who else was there? There was another set of tracks in the woods. It hadn’t rained last night so it still stood to reason that the prints could have been from earlier in the day, but I wasn’t buying it. How did I get outside? The side door to the driveway. It was unlocked when I came back in. Had my dad already gone out, or was it simply unlocked because I unknowingly unlocked it in my sleep? Or worse, was it because of somebody else breaking in?
Taking the quickest shower known to mankind, I lathered shampoo into my hair haphazardly and washed off before stumbling out of the bathroom with my nerves more shaken than ever. I tried to clean off the scratches with disinfectant as best as I could. Surprisingly, after I got out of the shower, I could see the injury wasn’t as bad as I first thought.
Barely managing to button up the front of my shirt and jeans amid my trembling digits, I practically fell into the kitchen with the determination to spill my beans about everything. Only no one was there.
“Dad? Dad?!” I called out.
Heavy footsteps came clunking up from the basement, and I instinctively backed away toward the side door, not knowing if I’d need to make a quick getaway. To my utmost relief, my dad entered the kitchen.
Looking at the clock above the stove, he returned a perplexed gaze. “What are you doing up this time in the morning? You sleep okay?”
“That’s the thing,” I said, turning my attention to the unlocked side door. “Have you already gone outside?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Did you happen to notice if the door was already-”
A shadow clouded over the window above the side door, and I immediately shot away from it in alarm as a figure appeared out of the corner of my eye.
“What has gotten into you?” said my dad, heading past me to greet the shady figure.
“Foster.”
“Tom,” replied my dad, upon opening the door. “How’s it goin’?”
I nearly collapsed with relief as Officer Benson approached with a shrug. “Nothing new, which I guess is both good and bad. Still no luck with the pool of potential suspects, but we also can’t say for sure that the Hyatt girl may not have just left town. Veronica lives with her folks and she’s always had a tumultuous relationship with them, so it’s really a fifty-fifty at this point. With this new stir of gossip about cults, we’re just glad to see that no freak shows have come to town.”
“Well, best of luck in catching a break.”
“Thanks,” said the officer. “Speaking of breaks, heard you got the Cutlass running. Is that true?”
My dad’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he looked up the driveway at the old girl. “Yeah, she still needs some work done, but she can run no less.”
He might as well have sucker punched me in the gut, because seeing him the happiest he had been in so long, only for me to bring it all tumbling back down with my indescribable drama, was too much to bear.
“Knew you’d be up, so I just thought I’d swing by and drop these off on my way to work,” Tom said, handing my dad an envelope. “Those permits you’ve been waiting on, for the bar.”
“You’re kidding?” He pried the envelope open and slapped the wall beside the doorframe with a smile as big as the Cheshire cat. “Terrific! Thanks, man.”
“No problem,” said Benson, readjusting his leather police duty belt. “See ya’ around. Bye, Cassie.”
I waved weakly as I watched the officer bounce down the driveway to his squad car.
“Just when you think life’s stuck it to you,” my dad said, slapping the permits gleefully, “you stumble your way over the rainbow to your pot of gold.”
“Dad,” I whimpered. “Was the side door already unlocked when you woke up earlier?”
“Can’t say I remember,” replied my dad, the elation wiping off his face with a fresh coat of concern being slapped on. “Why? What’s up?”
Where do I begin? I went to bed in my room last night, woke up in the woods this morning, and I’m pretty sure someone was watching me! But I don’t remember anything, except for what would be clinically listed as a night terror! Oh, yeah, did I happen to mention that I look like I’ve been mauled by Freddy Kruger?!
“Ah, ah-”
For the love of Mike, say something! Anything, you idiot!! I WOKE UP IN THE WOODS THIS MORNING!!
“I just thought I heard some noise down here before you were up...” I choked out.
Are you kidding?! Cassie, you idiot! You're hallucinating or being stalked! Now is not the time to be an introvert!
“And you thought it would be better if I found out if it was a psychotic killer first, while you’re tucked away safely in bed?” My dad laughed.
Safely in bed? Oh, one would only hope... Come on, tell him the truth! My mouth opened again, but for the life of me, nothing else came out.
“You need a ride to school, or is Jack picking you up again?”
“No!” I snapped, taking a second to realize that he had asked two questions. “Uh, um, I mean ‘no,’ Jack won’t be picking me up. Gwen is.”
“Okay,” he said, still examining me worriedly. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah,” I blurted, feeling as if I was about to crack at any moment. “I have to go finish getting ready.”
Just get to school, get through the day, and then get to the doctor’s office to make sure I wouldn’t develop an infection, or rabies, or something that would turn me into the Wolfwoman. But what would my dad say when he’d find out why I went? It didn’t matter. I needed help!
I raced back up the stairs and practically tackled the nightstand as I snatched up my cell phone, frantically trying to call Gwen’s number.
“Hey, you,” she said before I could even get out a word. “Everything okay?”
“Will everyone just stop asking me that?” I growled.
“Sorry for caring,” Gwen replied. “I’m just surprised to hear you up already.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my temples with my free hand.
“Rough night?”
“You could say that,” I said, my jaw clenching. “I was just calling to see if you could pick me up?”
“Sorry, can’t. I’m already at school.”
“Seriously? Why?” My head practically sank to the floor as my insides tightened.
“Homecoming prep. Principle Atkins agreed to let some of us come in early to set up, since we have extracurricular activities that get in the way after school. I even convinced Callaghan to come in. You still might be able to catch him for a lift-”
“Thanks,” I interrupted, about to pull the phone away from my ear.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but is everything okay?”
I didn’t bother to reply. I simply hung up and called Ian on speed dial.
“Morning, beautiful,” he answered on the third ring.
“Can you pick me up?” I practically shouted with a desperate plea.
He laughed. “Sure, can I ask?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’m already on the road. I’ll be there in five.”
As soon as I saw Ian’s truck comi
ng down the street, I headed out to the curb. Before the vehicle even had a chance to come to a complete stop, I pulled the passenger door open and jumped inside.
“In a hurry?” Ian chuckled, but his tone held a mild dose of concern.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, hugging my satchel like it was a baby blanket as I tried best to not sit back to inflame the scratches. “At least not yet.”
He cupped the back of my head. “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”
My eyes started to burn as tears began forming on my lower lashes, but I had to look at Ian. “Can you make me a promise?”
He nodded grimly.
“No matter what happens, no matter what I may say to you when I’m ready to talk about it, can you just promise me that you won’t look at me like I’m crazy?”
Ian moved the hair that fell in my face out of the way, and continued staring at me with the most distressing expression. “Cassie-”
“Forget about it,” I said, pulling away and brushing his hand off my shoulder. “Sorry for saying anything. Just drive.”
I turned to look out the side window in an attempt to hide the streaks of tears that started pouring down my cheeks, along with the painful embarrassment of such an unusual visual vulnerability.
“Hey.” Ian reached over me and grabbed the bottom of my chin when I didn’t reply, gently moving my head back in his direction. “I promise.”
When I tried to pull away from him again, he tightened his embrace.
“I mean it. And if you haven’t noticed, the world’s already crazy. So whatever you’re going through, I can guarantee you, I’d understand.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I said, still feeling the pulsating needles of tenderized skin sitting underneath the back of my shirt. “I’m about one step away from being strapped in a straitjacket.”
Ian’s eyes sharpened at the remark, and something unrelenting ignited in his gaze. “What the hell is going on? Did Jack do something to you?”
I shivered at the remark. “What makes you think this has something to do with him?”
“Because Alicia and Stacy are running the rumor mill on high right now with your name on practically every headline they’re making. And I can’t help but point out the obvious. Before Jack rolled into town, you seemed a little overstressed, but you weren’t like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, my defenses shooting up involuntarily.
“Skittish.”
“You know better than anyone that I have the tendency to be a bit neurotic,” I said.
“I’m not talking about being overwhelmed by schoolwork, Cassie,” said Ian.
“You mean I’m acting paranoid?”
“Do you have a reason to be?”
I furiously wiped the tears from my face. “So you do think I’m crazy?”
“I didn’t say that!” snapped Ian.
“Paranoia is a psychological disorder, Ian!”
“First of all, I’m not the one who used that word. Secondly, I’m perfectly serious. What is going on here that you can’t even talk to me about it?”
“I don’t want to get you involved in it. Trust me, you’re better off.”
“If ‘better off’ means watching my best friend fall apart, I’ll take my chances with the alternative,” he snapped.
“I think it has to do with those girls on the news.”
“You think?”
Tell him, don’t tell him. Ugh! I had already dug myself this far into the hole. Now, how much should I really divulge?
“There was someone hanging around my house the other night. They were dressed in disguise and they were taunting me through the windows. I called the police, but they don’t believe me. And now I’m starting to think that I’m losing my mind here!” I finally snapped. “I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged woefully. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to be judged, I guess. Or maybe I just didn’t want to drag anyone else into my shit.”
“Cassie, you’re my best friend. Your shit is my shit. So if you’re dealing with some creep who’s trying to get a rise out of you by playing a sick joke, or something worse, it’s my business. Okay?”
‘Or something worse’ proved to be the operative words in this scenario, but it was enough of a reassurance to get me through the car ride. If I was going to crack, I had a wingman.
“Hello, early morning commuters!” exclaimed Gwen as we walked into the gym, prancing down from a step ladder and bouncing over to us with a bit more pep than I could really stand to tolerate. “So, what do you think?”
“Looks good,” I said. “Really coming along.”
“Funny,” she cracked.
It took me a second before I actually looked around, realizing that nothing had really been put up yet. Most of the decorations were still sprawled about on tables and in boxes.
“Asides from the more time consuming problems of coordinating budget expenses and whatnot, don’t most schools usually have only a day at best to actually set up for a dance?” I said. “My old school had maybe six hours of prep time for their last Homecoming.”
“Typically, you would be absolutely correct. But given the high stakes of the game, plus the wondrous pleasure of it taking place on All Hallows Eve, executing the perfect masquerade theme is more crucial than ever. This is the dance that people are going to remember.”
“Or at least whatever’s left of their memories after the booze wear off,” mumbled Ian.
“Hey, I want to see you try to pull off running this and the upcoming Spirit Week with all this pressure riding on you,” said Gwen.
“I thought this was part of your religion or something. Don’t you live for this kind of stuff?” said Ian.
“If it wasn’t for having to work around Stacy and her demented posse, I would be thriving off the pressure of this like the sugar high from an energy drink. What you happen to forget is that they still have some say-so in the plans, which means I actually have to compromise with that evil trollop and her gang of trolls.”
“What can we do to help?” I said, feeling more and more eager to do anything to get my mind off of things.
“Well, Callaghan, we’ve got a lot of supplies that need unpacking. Could you be a doll, or at least a refrained pessimist, and begin unpacking those boxes?” asked Gwen through a forced smile.
“I don’t know if I can manage, but I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” Gwen replied, climbing up another ladder with a tape measure in hand.
“You should be more careful,” I said, watching the heels to her stilettos hang off the backend of each step. “Sure you don’t want to go put on some sneakers?”
“Yeah, well, I would, but I’m afraid to leave these people alone for even a minute,” Gwen whispered. “Even I wouldn’t have believed what they were trying to do earlier, if I had not witnessed it myself. Terrifying.”
“Okay, then why don’t you make my first assignment to go and grab you your gym shoes from the locker room?” I said.
She winced. “Yeah, but what if Jeff swings by? I don’t wanna be caught half a foot shorter. Besides, sneakers and a skirt? That’s one fashion faux pas I refuse to fall into.”
“Yes, because not even breaking your neck could compare to that tragedy.”
“Fine,” she said, “go get them. But if I end up on some worst-dressed list because of this, I’m pinning full responsibility on you.”
“Gwen, this is New Haven. Not Hollywood. We don’t have tabloids documenting everyone’s tasks.”
“No, but we have social media sites, and I know Stacy would kill for a chance to embarrass me.”
“With a pair of Skechers? Oh, the horror,” I muttered before heading to the locker room.
Taking a deep inhale, I quickly ran in and searched down Gwen’s locker. After failing the first two attempts at the combination, I was forced to take another breath. Even with an entire night of vacancy, the deadly mixtur
e of sweat and perfume overkill still plagued the stale air of the locker room. I tried best to breathe through my mouth, but it didn’t do much good. I finally unlocked the door, forced it open, snatched her shoes, and slammed the rusted door shut again. On my way out, I passed by the row of sinks, where there were five large mirrors strategically placed above each station. Not sure if it was out of curiosity or some strange masochistic tendency that compelled me to look, but I dropped Gwen’s sneakers on the floor and rolled up my shirt. Slowly peeling the adhesive bandaging from my lower back, I turned around to see just how bad it was.
Given the fact that the lights above were fluorescent, and therefore designed by the devil to make any human being look disastrously worse, I can’t say it was the smartest idea. But there I stood. Stunned. Stupefied. Immobile. Where just an hour ago rested ghastly, mutilated marks, there was nothing but smooth, untarnished, milky white flesh. I jumped at the sounds of the squeaky hinges of the heavy main door being pried open. For the first time in my life, I was happy to see that it was only Stacy who came inside.
She walked passed me with a snicker as I still stood with my shirt hiked up. “Checking to see if you need to shave your back again?”
Normally, I would have fired out a clever comeback, but I was completely lost for words. I let go of my shirt and staggeringly grabbed the sneakers off the floor.
“Do you think the columns should be in the north side of the gym or the south side?” asked Gwen, looking over an inventory list upon my arrival.
I still couldn’t say anything. All I could do was extend my arm out with her shoes dangling from their laces wrapped around my trembling fingers.
When she looked up, she took them with unease. “You okay?”
Nothing. I didn’t nod or shake my head. I just stood in a daze, feeling the blood draining from my face.
“You didn’t see Mrs. Sullivan in the shower, did you?” asked Gwen, cringing at the thought. “I remember the first time I saw that. Freshman year. Scarred me for life. You know, they make shower curtains for a reason. But apparently, someone forgot to tell her.”
Divine Vices Page 17
