Crowned with Guilt

by S. K. Rose

  I guess maybe I was his normal, a comfort in his final days.

  Sitting in the auditorium, I watch the slideshow of pictures showing Vincent’s smiling face in a muted daze. I go stiff when I hear the familiar catty voices of Lilah and Hanna from behind.

  “He was fine and then right when Tessa started hanging all over him. ”

  “Yeah, I can’t believe he died, and she was the last person with him.”

  “Oh, my God, it’s seriously like everyone around her drops like flies!”

  “Yeah don’t let her ever touch you—”

  Having heard enough, I leave just as a teacher begins to recount a touching story about Vincent.

  Leaning up against the brick auditorium building outside, I close my eyes and try to slow my breaths that are coming out in quick, painful gasps. I let my heavy body slide to the ground and tuck my knees in close.

  I swallow the emotions fighting to rise up my throat like bile and shut everything off. I take a few minutes to seriously consider going home and cutting, feeling that overwhelming pull to slice into my wrists and watch the blood drain from my body. But the guilt of taking my life when his was stolen keeps me frozen. I can’t do that, not to him.

  Instead, I pull out the iPod Vincent lent me, pop in an earbud, and crank up his favorite playlist. I let the music drown out the thoughts of death and the never-ending path of loneliness I seem to be fated for.

  I don’t shed a single tear. I don’t have any left.

  Chapter 9

  ─────

  Fifteen Years Old

  It’s a beautiful day, the sun has come out from hiding and there’s only a slight chill to the air. Since I started high school, my walk each morning has been shortened to just a few blocks. I don’t have to wake up two hours early just to get to class on time.

  As soon as my foot steps onto the parking lot, I hear the first bell ring; perfect timing. I slip into the classroom silently and try to pay attention to the morning announcements. I start to pass behind two girls who are doing a terrible job of whispering, but stiffen when I hear my name. They’re much too busy gossiping to have seen me come in.

  “Did you hear he has a crush on Tessa? He was even asking Stephanie about what she might like for her birthday!” The redhead couldn’t hide the blatant disgust from her voice if she tried.

  “Seriously, is he crazy? I heard she killed someone before,” the blonde replies almost fearfully.

  “I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, especially with what happened with you-know-who last year.”

  Nope, I didn’t need to hear any more. I use the lull in their conversation to not-so-gently drop my backpack on the floor next to the empty desk behind them. The girls simultaneously turn their heads to see who’s behind them as I take my seat.

  Two pairs of eyes roll and widen.

  Two faces cloud in horror as they must be asking themselves, what will the monster Tessa do now?

  Well, I can’t disappoint them, can I?

  I return their stares with the sweetest smile I can muster. Easier said than done, my mouth muscles aren’t used to being upturned. I watch as their shoulders relax a fraction of an inch, likely thinking I didn’t hear a word.

  Without any warning, I let out a savage hiss as I lunge my upper body toward them, making my desk jump forward on the tile with a horrible screech.

  Both girls yelp and whip their heads back around to face the front of the class. I’m fairly sure blondie pissed herself a little.

  From the front of the room, Mrs. Lane sighs and gives me a disapproving look. She’s always been nothing but kind to me, so I feel a little bad. Instead of apologizing, I avoid her gaze, put my head down, and start on my work. I don’t look up again until class is over.

  Springing up from my seat as soon as the bell rings, I head out of the door before Mrs. Lane decides she needs to have another “heart-to-heart” with me. I fly out of the room and immediately run smack into something solid.

  No, not something, someone.

  Scott Kain is also a freshman, but has a vastly different schedule so we don’t share a single class together. He looks down at me now, horror-stricken since I weigh next to nothing and was immediately knocked to my ass. He holds his hand out to me, but I ignore it. Instead, I push myself up and start looking for the textbook that flew out of my hand. I’m more annoyed than embarrassed.

  “Tessa, I’m so sorry. I was actually just coming to find you.” He rushes his words all into one nervous breath. He’s on the Junior Varsity basketball team and quite popular. His sandy blond hair and honey brown eyes make him a favorite of all the female underclassmen.

  “It’s fine, Scott, what do you need?” I hear my clipped tone, but don’t particularly give a shit. Nothing good comes from interacting with people. Ever.

  “Well, I know today is your birthday, I saw it on the Celebration Calendar in the Cafeteria, and well, I just—” I see the blush creeping up his neck, turning his ears slightly red.

  What is going on with this idiot? He’s barely said ten words to me before this.

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s shoved a flat, carefully wrapped gift into my hands. I study him, stare down at the package, then back up at him with my eyebrows drawn in confusion.

  It takes a hot minute, but I slowly come to the conclusion that he’s given me a birthday present. Something I haven’t been given in a very long time. I run my hands over the wrapping paper and look up at him once more. Narrowing my eyes, I try to decipher his body language for foul play.

  Mamma didn’t raise no fool. Just a monster.

  “Scott, look, kudos for the attempt. I really enjoyed your handiwork last year with my locker. Like, seriously, well done. But today is not a great day for all this so let’s try again tomorrow, eh?” I sneer and shove the gift back into his chest.

  A few months ago, someone decided it would be hilarious to squirt ketchup all over the inside of my locker and cover it in feathers making it look like some gruesome animal murder scene. Joke was on them when I dipped my finger in the mess and proceeded to slowly lick it off as a teacher guided me to the principal’s office.

  Their reactions were priceless. A couple of the girls even screamed.

  His face scrunches up as he shakes his head and pushes the gift back toward me. “N-No, that wasn’t me! I couldn’t believe someone would do that to you.”

  Oddly, I get the feeling he’s telling the truth as I stare into his eyes, which look much too honest. Screw it, I can step out of my comfort zone and be a normal girl today.

  With a shrug, I begin to tear off the wrapping paper. New school, fresh start. Maybe it’s time to start letting people in. It really wouldn’t hurt to have one friend or just someone to talk to occasionally. I peel away the last bit of paper and stare at the revealed gift in my hand.

  It’s a . . . book.

  Of course it’s a fucking book.

  Exactly what he would have gotten me today—if he wasn't six feet under.

  Pain and guilt slam into me. I lock my knees and steady myself before I crumble to the ground. The pain ripping through my body rapidly evolves into anger. A rage that burns just beneath the skin, begging to be let out in the form of a bloodcurdling scream. I stare at the book, knowing when I lift my chin, he’ll see I’ve come unhinged.

  “Tessa, I know we aren't really friends, but I see you reading all the time and how smart and pretty you are. I was just kinda hoping—”

  Still staring at the book intently, I raise my hand up motioning for him to stop.

  I don't want to hear this shit. Doesn’t he understand that getting close to me will only get him hurt—or worse, killed? I’m fucking poison to everything I touch. Scott might be a genuinely nice guy, but I refuse to be the one to ruin him.

  I vow in this moment that I will make sure he doesn't come after me again. In fact, I will make sure no one gets the idea in their head to befriend me during these four long years.

  When I’m finally ab
le to gain control of my emotions, I plaster a smile across my face. I see him physically relax a little, thinking I’m happy with his gift and ready to get down to the business of becoming friends, or shit—maybe start dating.

  It makes me feel a thousand times worse for what must be done.

  Without breaking eye contact, I open the book and begin ripping chunks of pages out, throwing each fistful at the ground near his feet.

  “What made you think.” Rip

  “That I would EVER.” Rip

  “In a billion fucking years, like you?” Rip

  “Next time, Scotty, listen better.” Rip

  “When your friends warn you about me.” I throw the destroyed book down and cross my arms. Horrified gasps are uttered from students who’ve begun to circle around us.

  The look he gives me is one that will haunt my nightmares for months to come. His expression ripples between hurt, confusion, and embarrassment.

  “God, Tessa, why are you such a bitch?” a girl shouts from my left. I barely hear it as I watch the confusion in Scott’s eyes transform into pure hatred.

  A look I am all too familiar with; comfortable with even.

  After one last icy look, Scott speeds off in the opposite direction, wailing girls trailing behind him.

  Mission accomplished.

  This is good.

  This is what I wanted. . . right?

  Chapter 10

  ─────

  Sixteen Years Old

  It’s gotta be late. I swear I just fell asleep ten minutes ago. I look over to my alarm clock and see blurry red letters glaring 2:19 a.m. Half awake, I yawn and blink slowly, not comprehending why all my senses are suddenly on code red. Wait. There’s someone in my room. I can feel it deep in my bones.

  From the dark, I hear a gravelly voice sing out my name.

  “Tessaaa!”

  Without warning, a large hand clamps over my mouth and I catch a whiff of a familiar musky scent. My eyes shoot open, but each direction is the same suffocating darkness. A small worm of terror begins to crawl its way through my system, shutting movement down as it goes.

  It’s just Mom coming back from her weekend bender. That’s all. Move.

  I get ready to shake her off and yell, but the hand covering my mouth is gripping me too tight and feels so. . . meaty. My mom’s hands are thin and bony. Air surges in and out of my nose as my stomach flips and revolts against me.

  That wasn’t even her voice, you idiot. Calm the fuck down, Tessa, and think. We can figure this out.

  “Tessa girl, your mother let it slip that it’s your birthday today. Dear ol’ daddy is dead, and your bitch of a mom just doesn’t seem to give a shit. I do sympathize, my sweet.” Hot breath washes across the side of my face, causing an involuntary shudder down my spine. My little worm of fear morphs into a snake of absolute terror that coils itself around my body and holds me petrified.

  “So, being the generous soul that I am, I thought I would come help you celebrate. Pun fucking intended.” He gives a giddy laugh and I’m hit with another wave of his horrible cologne. Even through the shroud of terror, I pinpoint the smell and know exactly who it is. Mom’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Trent. Whenever he hung around the house, he always smelt like he’d been doused in some god awful cheap cologne. Last I heard he was in jail for dealing, but, surprise, surprise, he’s out now.

  Fuck.

  My heart rate spikes. If it didn’t register before, it certainly does now, I’m in a bad fucking way. I understand exactly what he wants from me, and if I don’t get the fuck out of here I am going to be in a world of suffering.

  Whenever Trent would visit, his intense stare would follow me around the room whenever he could get away with it. The older I got, the worse it got.

  When my shirts started to fill out, it became downright unbearable. But he was just big, dumb, harmless Trent.

  Or so I thought.

  My taut muscles have begun to cramp, but I still don’t move. The foolish, naïve part of me continues to whisper promises that it’s just a horrible, fucked-up dream.

  With great effort, I twitch a finger, and then dig a fingernail into the palm of my hand, the pain that bites into my flesh is the only wake-up call my body needs.

  With a jolt, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in as every cell in my body screams for me to run. I yank my body out of his grasp and sprint toward my bedroom door. With my lungs on fire, I take big gulps as my hands grope around in the dark until I brush against the metal knob. With a cry of relief and hope re-energizing my body, I grip the handle with my sweaty hands and turn it.

  As the door clicks open, my left leg is yanked out from under me and I crash hard to the floor. Calling on all my strength, I kick fiercely behind me to startle him into loosening his grip. However, this time he’s prepared. My left ankle is on fire and I fear it may be broken, I shove the pain to the back of my mind and keep kicking with it, continuing to move my body forward—toward freedom.

  A despairing wail escapes between my lips as my entire body is dragged back into the center of the room. My fingernails claw and scratch at the hardwood floor, blindly searching for anything to hold on to.

  Please, God, no.

  Panic floods over me and I use my waning strength to turn my body around and try to hit, kick, bite, or claw myself free. All my fighting stops abruptly as something solid rams so hard into the side of my face that my teeth rattle and my eyes bulge. I flinch away from the excruciating pain, and my hands fly up to cover my head in a pathetic attempt to protect myself.

  Looking through bloody fingers, I finally see my assailant. Trent looms over me, his teeth and eyes lit by a demonic glow as light from the cracked door filters in. One hand flexes open and shut excitedly, the other makes a meaty fist that’s raised up in the air, preparing to land another blow.

  “I’m s-sorry. Stop! Oh, God, please stop,” I choke on my words in desperation, but he continues to bash his fist into me. Another blow lands on my face, two more find my side, and that’s when I start to lose count. I curl up into a tight ball on the floor, trying to protect the most sensitive parts of my body. There’s a loud ringing in my ears, blood drips from somewhere down the side of my neck.

  “There we go, baby-girl. Are you gonna behave yourself now?” He brushes his fingers through my matted hair. The vile man was just beating me into a pulp, yet I don’t hear any rage or unsteadiness in his tone.

  My head is pounding, the pain is excruciating, I can’t process his sudden shift in composure. Instead of responding, I lift my head as much as my body will allow and heave a bloody spitwad that lands with a splat on his cheek. “Fuck you.”

  I give him a bloody smile before my head starts to swim and I have to lay back down.

  If he loses control, maybe he’ll kill me, and this pain I’ve carried with me for so long will go away. I’ll finally be able to be with him. My Andrew. God, I miss him.

  My body tightens, ready to absorb more blows, but they don’t come. Much to my dismay, I hear a soft chuckle instead. “Oh, my, you are just as much of a firecracker as when you were a tot. Feisty, feisty girl, just the way I like it,” he purrs.

  Faster than I think someone his size can move, I’m lifted and heaved onto my mattress, and handcuffed to one of the legs of my dresser. “Now, your mama seems pretty sure that you’re still a virgin which,” his eyes greedily look up and down my body in a way that makes me nauseous, “I find very hard to believe. But if that’s true, I’m obligated to help you become a woman in every right. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor in this day and age. Kids can be so cruel.”

  “You sick fuck, don’t you fucking touch—” I’m cut off by a rough cloth being shoved into my mouth.

  His hands slowly begin to explore my body, lifting up my top or moving aside my shorts, as if he has all the time in the world. I jerk my body as the cold steel of a blade is laid against my bare stomach. Thanks to my vivid imagination, a myriad of horrible ways for me to die flashes thr
ough my mind. Instead of cutting into my skin, he viciously cuts through my clothes and tears them away.

  He shreds the last piece of protection that I foolishly felt safe having.

  As I lay open and exposed, goosebumps break out across my skin as I begin to tremble. My heart picks up the pace until I’m positive it’s trying to break free through my ribs. The only hope I cling to is that perhaps I’ll have a heart attack and die before anything worse can happen.

  Please just let me die.

  But luck has never been on my side.

  The night becomes an endless blur of pain and despair. I grieve as the last piece of my innocent soul is stripped away. He’s rough, and because it’s my first time, I feel as though I’m being ripped in two.

  After the initial hour or so, maybe less, maybe more, time becomes a foreign concept. I go mercifully numb, my tears dry, and my muffled screams bleed into a dazed silence. I stop fighting, relax every muscle in my body, and steal away inside my mind. The only sounds that can be heard in the room now are my involuntary grunts of pain and Trent’s muted words of admiration.

  “What a sweet, sweet sixteen this will be, baby-girl,” is the last thing I hear before I completely check out of reality.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift into the cobwebbed corners of my memories.

  I’m back in the castle, lying next to Andrew, who’s smiling back at me. He’s in the middle of telling me this ridiculous story of how he had to fight and capture a troll which is obviously why he is late to meet me for my birthday. He holds out a gift and I take it carefully into my hands.

  Our secret castle is suddenly full of the white butterflies from long ago. His fingers wriggle their way between mine, and with our hands clasped together, we giggle as wings kiss our exposed skin.

  I look at the creatures longingly. They are graceful, pure.

  They are unscathed, unaware.

  They are unsullied, they are free.