“Season it how you like, Rayleigh. The secret to spaghetti is to never make it the same way twice.”
“What if I ruin it?”
“You couldn’t ruin anything if you tried, dear,” her mother said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Rayleigh closed her eyes, blending the ingredients together, and tried not to cry.
~
Her parents were already in bed after 11:00 pm when Janeen decided to pay Rayleigh a visit. With a little persuading, Rayleigh would see things differently. It was a matter of love.
Janeen had taken her mother’s make-up from the bathroom earlier and was applying it now in front of her bedroom mirror: bright red lipstick, thick black eyeliner. She’d even powdered her face white. It was frightening how much detail she put into it. She looked exactly like Rayleigh, except for the eyes, which was good, because she wanted to be Rayleigh, wanted to be just as beautiful, and knew that by loving her as much as she did, that Janeen would somehow—eventually—become Rayleigh Angelica Thorn.
Her room was not like Rayleigh’s at all, however. Her mother had a strong aversion toward the cryptic. She hadn’t asked for permission, either, when dying her hair. She’d simply done it. Her mother had been shocked and grounded her for a week. Janeen had screamed in rage-filled defiance when her mother suggested she dye it back. Janeen had threatened to shave her head, and she had meant it.
With the change in clothes, dyed her, her mother wore a constant frown near the end of the school year and was less inclined to let her spend time with Rayleigh. A change had come over her daughter, that was certain, and she didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She had even grown frightened of Janeen, the tone in which she spoke, the scream that had done everything but make her ears bleed when she’d suggested dying her hair back. She had prayed it was a phase, nothing more.
But she was wrong.
Janeen’s wardrobe had also begun to resemble Rayleigh’s: tattered shoes, ratty jeans, black rock-and-roll Tshirts. They were twins, twin lover girls destined to spend eternity together.
Stuffed teddy bears of all sizes sat assembled on the pink comforter. Janeen thought of getting rid of them, pouring gasoline over them, setting them on fire. That would be a real demented, horror-movie-kind of thing to do. It may even win Rayleigh back.
She dreamed of Rayleigh. Not a minute went by, a second, when she didn’t imagine lying in those fair-skinned arms, snuggling next to her black locks.
“I will always love you, Rayleigh,” Janeen said, into the mirror, applying more lipstick. “I will make you love me. I know you didn’t mean it, what you did. I know you really care. I know you want to be with me. You already said so. Why else did you kiss me the way you did? Why else did you get mad at me for loving you so much?”
Applying the last of the make-up, she looked at herself in the mirror: fair young girl with accentuating eyelashes, dark red lipstick. She’d used plenty of base and powder to hide her freckles. She was Rayleigh Angelica Thorn with green eyes.
Janeen kissed the mirror, leaving a red imprint on the glass. She grabbed her jean jacket, turned off the bedroom light, and closed the door behind her.
She’d knock on Rayleigh’s window. Just talk. I just want to talk to you, she’d say. How could Rayleigh refuse? Especially with the way she was dressed? There was no harm in talking, was there? She wanted to explain the reason she’d acted the way she had, why she’d told Ricky the things she did. That, honestly, all of it—despite what Rayleigh thought—had been done out of love. For Rayleigh’s sake. Ricky had only gotten in the way.
Janeen crept downstairs, went to the front door, and opened it. She closed it behind her, the latch clicking into place, and stepped outside into the night. Crickets chirped, the only sound. The stars were out in a clear sky, no moon. It was warm out.
Just to touch her, smell her hair, run my finger along her jaw.
All was quiet except for the crickets. No sign of traffic. A light breeze brushed her dyed hair out of her eyes.
She was smiling as she walked along the neighborhood streets. This must be what Rayleigh loved, the dark of night, the quiet eeriness of a slumbering neighborhood. Yes, in order to be Rayleigh, she had to love what Rayleigh loved.
She’d apologize first, beg and plead if she had to. If Rayleigh forgave her, things could go back to normal. They could be friends again. Then Janeen could slowly coerce her…prove to Rayleigh that the only thing that mattered in the world was love.
Janeen stopped and turned, frowning. Was that a footstep behind her? She looked around but couldn’t see anything. Only the dark, silent houses, the silhouettes of trees. The breeze picked up, making the leaves rustle. Rayleigh’s love for horror was following her through the night. Janeen smiled at the thought and turned, moving down the sidewalk.
Rayleigh’s house was ten or fifteen minutes away. She had time to practice her speech.
“I’m sorry, Rayleigh,” she whispered. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I want us to be together. Can’t we try again at least? Please. I promise I won’t do those things anymore. Will you forgive me, at least?”
A black cat sat in the illumination of a streetlamp just ahead. It looked her way, lowered its head, and slunk away into the dark.
“I want to be you, Rayleigh. I want to be you so badly! I want to be inside your skin.”
This was not part of the apology, just the plain and simple truth. Rayleigh would forgive her, Janeen told herself. How could she not? She was as beautiful as Rayleigh now. What more could she do to prove her love? Maybe she shouldn’t have said those things to Ricky, either. Things might not be as bad now. Still, she’d savored the look on his face when she’d told him. He’d been horrified. Janeen laughed at the thought.
The breeze grew forceful, blowing her hair in front of her eyes. When she pulled it away, turning east down Hutchinson Street, she seemed to run into a wall and fell on her rear. She wasn’t sure what it was until she pulled her hair out of her eyes.
A giant was staring down at her. His smile was frightening, eyes huge and dark in the lamplight. Curly hair hung to his broad shoulders. He was a big man, wearing baggy jeans and a dark brown jacket. A broad, stubble-lined chin glistened with sweat in the dark.
“Sorry,” Janeen said, her heart beating rapidly. “I’m trying to get to my friend’s house.”
“A little late to be out, isn’t it?” the man said in a deep, husky voice. He smiled, revealing a row of perfectly clean teeth. Before Janeen realized a scream would save her, the man reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to him, putting a hand over her mouth.
She tasted salt, nicotine, and onions. Janeen kicked, wriggled, squirmed, but he was too strong.
The man looked around quickly. When had he noticed her? Had he been following her since she’d left home?
“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” the man whispered. “You see this?”
A dagger flashed in front of her eyes, and Janeen stiffened.
“Not a sound. Got it? Or I’ll end your pretty little life right here and now. Understand?”
Janeen couldn’t help it, but she began it to cry, and suddenly, she didn’t want to be Rayleigh Thorn at all, wanted nothing to do with her. She just wanted to be Janeen, cute, blonde Janeen, with pink and white tennis shoes and teddy bears on her comforter.
She clenched her eyes shut and whimpered, not wanting to anger the giant.
The man hurried toward a parked car along the street.
“Get in,” he said, opening the driver’s side. “And no funny business, either, or it’s all over for you. Don’t make a sound. You hear?”
Janeen nodded and climbed across the seat. The man kept the knife close. If she hurried, she could unlock the passenger side and make a run for it, screaming as loud as she could, waking the entire neighborhood. But the man didn’t let go of her, and she got another look at the knife.
The man looked up and down the street again, then got inside, and shut the door. “Quit that fucking crying
right now, or I’ll open your throat,” the man said, turning toward her.
Janeen closed her eyes, bit her tongue, and tried not to make a sound.
He started the car and put it in drive, his left hand on the wheel, the other holding the knife. Janeen opened her eyes, the blade only inches from her ribcage.
Headlights cut through the dark as they drove.
“You’re very pretty,” the man said. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out by herself. Bet you look even prettier under all those clothes. I’m gonna stop the car soon, so I can see all that prettiness.”
They passed Rayleigh house. Janeen stared at it as the car drove by. Soon, the road turned to dirt, and they were in the surrounding fields and farmlands of Louisville. After several minutes, he brought the car to a stop on a dirt road between walls of cottonwood trees. He shut the engine off, then the headlights. It was still and quiet. Even her breathing seemed to stop.
“Come on,” the man said, opening the door. He grabbed Janeen, pulling her into the dark, holding the knife to the small of her back. “You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” the man said.
Janeen nodded, eyes wide, trying to hold back tears. She’d wet herself, she realized, suddenly in a panic. It would anger him.
He dragged her off the road, over a small creek, and into the fields. In the starlight, she saw him clearly. His eyes furrowed.
“Have a little accident?” he said, and grinned. “Come on. Let’s see how pretty you are.”
Closing her eyes, Janeen tried to put herself somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Stifling sobs, she reached up and took her shirt off. She didn’t feel pretty at the moment. She didn’t feel pretty at all.
“Not bad,” the man said, nodding. “Not bad at all. It’s gonna be a shame to ruin that pretty white skin.”
He stepped close, the knife an inch from her throat. He moved it down until it grazed her ribcage.
Something fluttered and took flight in the trees. The crickets continued to chirp.
I love you Rayleigh, Janeen thought. I will always love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry for everything I did. If we could go back to that first day, and I could just wear pink and never try to be like you, would you still be my friend? If we could have one more chance, would you accept my apology?
Rotten tobacco breath moved under her nose. Stubble grazed her cheek. His hands were rough, moving over her, the knife held close.
Part of her thought she still had a chance if she cooperated, if she let him do what he wanted…he would let her go.
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the knife. She and the knife were going to be good friends.
The man moved his hands over her. His breath was loud in her ear. She could smell his sweat and excitement.
His hand clamped over her mouth suddenly hard and violent, and his breathing turned rapid. The knife flashed. Pain, like fire, ripped through her abdomen, and Janeen stiffened, her back arching. Blood spread, and she tried to scream, but his hand was clamped over her mouth. She tasted something rotten again.
I love you, Rayleigh. I will always love you.
Something took flight in the trees again.
~
Rayleigh received a phone call from Janeen’s mother the following morning, asking her if her daughter was there. Mrs. Kensington didn’t seem to believe her.
Rayleigh’s mother stood beside her with an anxious look on her face.
“Honestly, Mrs. Kensington,” Rayleigh said into the phone. “I don’t know. If I did, I would tell you. I swear.”
“I don’t understand why she’d leave the house unless it was to see you. All she does is talk about you. She even looks like you, for God’s sake! Please, Rayleigh. If you know anything, if she’s there, will you just let me talk to her? I’m not mad. I’m just worried.”
“I would, Mrs. Kensington. But I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where Janeen is. She hasn’t been here. She didn’t stop by. I swear to God. I would tell you if she had.”
“I’m gonna have to call the police,” Janeen’s mother said.
~
On a bright warm, Tuesday morning at Louisville Cemetery, several townsfolk gathered for Janeen’s funeral. The turnout was not large, the Kensingtons being new to the area. Theresa, Janeen’s mother, stared at Rayleigh with cold accusation. Rayleigh stood close by her mother and father, her eyes on the casket.
The shock and horror still lingered, and Rayleigh was still numb from the news. Her only friend had been raped and killed, apparently on her way to see her. To what? Apologize? Perform one last tryst?
Her body had been found in the fields surrounding Louisville, a quarter of a mile from the Thorn residence.
No longer consumed by guilt and shame, Rayleigh now felt like a hypocrite and worse. The last time she’d seen Janeen, she’d spit in her face.
After the funeral was over, her father bringing the car to a stop in the driveway, Rayleigh opened the door, ran up the sidewalk, and into the house. The door banged shut behind her. She bolted to the basement, wanting to be left alone. Her mother came in shortly afterwards and put her arms around her.
“I feel like I killed her Mom,” she said.
“That’s crazy, Rayleigh. How could you know?”
“What if she was on her way here? What if she wanted to see me, if she snuck out to apologize? What if she was trying to make up?”
“We’ll never know that, Rayleigh.”
She was moving away from herself, as though trapped in her own skin, banging away at her flesh from the inside. All she wanted was to go deeper.
Getting ready for bed later that night, she looked at herself in the mirror. Ghostly vampire was the only thing in existence. Corona of Blue was dead and gone.
You wanted to know my name, said a voice in her mind, not one of consolation. It was another, one wanting to befriend and betray her at the same time, it seemed. She didn’t know if she could trust it.
“You’re a demon,” Rayleigh said. “You’re not even real.”
I’m more real than you know.
“Then who are you?”
The voice answered from the dungeons of her brain:
My name, if you must know, is Carmilla. And I’m here to drive you mad.
~
On a bright warm, Tuesday morning at Louisville Cemetery, several townsfolk gathered for Janeen Kensington’s funeral. The turnout was small, the Kensingtons being new to the area, but several classmates, teachers, and close family and friends attended. Theresa, Janeen’s mother, stared at Rayleigh with eyes of cold accusation. Rayleigh stood close to her mother and father and stared at the ground.
Rayleigh was still numb from the news. Her only friend had been raped and killed, apparently on her way to see her. To what? Apologize? Perform one last tryst?
Her body had been found in the fields outside Louisville, a quarter of a mile from the Thorn residence.
Rayleigh felt like a hypocrite. The last thing she’d done was spit in Janeen’s face. The thought made her want to throw up.
After the funeral was over, her father bringing the car to a stop in the driveway, Rayleigh opened the door, ran up the sidewalk, and into the house. The door banged shut behind her. She bolted to the basement, wanting to be left alone, but her mother came in shortly afterwards, and put her arms around her.
“I feel like I killed her Mom,” she said, sobbing into her mother’s chest.
“You couldn’t have known, Rayleigh.”
“What if she was on her way here? What if she wanted to see me, if she snuck out to apologize? What if she was trying to make up?”
“Rayleigh, we’ll never know that.”
She felt trapped in her own skin, banging away at her flesh from the inside.
Getting ready for bed later that night, she looked at herself in the mirror. Ghostly vampire was the only thing in existence. Corona of Blue was dead and gone.
You wanted to know my name, said a voice in her mind, not one of co
nsolation. It was another, one wanting to befriend and betray her at the same time, it seemed.
“You’re a demon,” Rayleigh said. “You’re not even real.”
I’m more real than you know.
“Then who are you?”
The voice answered, seeming to come from the dungeons of her brain:
My name, if you must know, is Carmilla. And I’m here to drive you mad.
~
“I tried to call, but you weren’t home. I thought maybe you’d be here.”
Two weeks after the funeral, Rayleigh decided to spend some time under the oak tree. It was mid-afternoon, and the clouds moved in, sending a somber light over Louisville.
She was spending a lot of time by herself lately. Time alone, she knew, was the best way to heal. Lamenting the loss of Janeen, she escaped to the oak now on a regular basis. Her mother and father, surprisingly, condoned it. If she wanted to be alone to deal with Janeen, that was up to her.
She’d walked slowly through the fields, a whirlwind of emotions assaulting her. Sometimes sadness, sometimes rage, sometimes hatred, and sometimes nothing at all. But for the most part, Rayleigh felt a shocking numbness that this had happened at all.
While sitting in the shade, Ricky Bradford had emerged from the trees. His look was sympathetic. Rayleigh did not reply. Her time with Bandit always got interrupted, it seemed. The wolf was harder and harder to conjure these days.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
Rayleigh shrugged.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“It’s a free country,” Rayleigh said, unable to look at him.
“I’m sorry about all this, Rayleigh. You. Me. Janeen. I wish I could say something to make it better.”
“I wish you could, too,” she said.
“Do you want a cigarette?” he asked.
Rayleigh shook her head. “No,” she said.
He dropped his hand in his lap and pulled grass from the ground.
Taking a deep breath, Ricky said, “I still wish I could be with you, Rayleigh. I wish I could take it all back. I don’t want to be without you, you know?”
She looked at him for the first time, his green eyes unwavering. She never realized how similar he and Janeen looked. They could have been brother and sister.
Corona of Blue Page 16
