Catching Temptation (In Darkness She Fades book 1)

by Sarah Erber

  Chapter Three

  Tormented

  The bell rings, excusing me from the teacher’s monotonous lecture. I sigh. Murmurs and tantalizing stares never cease. Several of the girls snickered behind me in class and I vowed I would start sitting in the back row to avoid their repetitive taunts.

  My phone rings.

  Crap. I forgot to change the ring tone to vibrate. Rushing into the nearest bathroom, I hide in one of the stalls, and check my messages.

  Karma sent me the text, What’s wrong? Call me.

  It still amazes me that Karma knows when I am upset, even at a thousand miles away. A few months after I befriended Karma, I hit another wave of depression, and seriously debated jumping from my third-story window. Karma arrived in ten minutes with pizza and soda to drown my sorrows. Once she brought over an Ouija board when I thought about using one to talk to my parents. It ended in disaster. Turns out it is the creature’s favorite tool for pranks.

  I punch in Karma’s number.

  “Hey, is everyone really that mean to you today? I swear my heart is bleeding and turning to stone at the same time. I know it’s you.”

  “Karma, I hate it here. These people are weird. Weirder than us in some ways.”

  “Who on earth could be weirder than us?”

  “These twin guys. They freak me out. Everyone idolizes them.”

  “Typical high school jocks.”

  I lean against the metal stall, trying not to inhale too much. “No. They’re not full Goth, but they have a Rock star edge.”

  “Maybe it’s what’s cool in Michigan. Remember you’re in another state.”

  Voice shaking, I say, “They know something about the creatures.”

  Silence.

  “Daniel kinda blurted out my hallucination problem in front of half of the students–”

  “The little punk! Oh, I wish – no. No. Sorry. I’m not evil.”

  Karma carries a deep fear of wishing harm on people. I suspect the things she wishes will actually come true, but I never press the subject.

  “Sorry. Had a moment. Tell me the rest.”

  “Everybody in the crowd laughed, but not the twins. Karma they looked scared. Like I’d discovered some huge secret.”

  “Maybe you did. Didn’t the monster from your dream say Rosewood needed you? It might be a good idea to snoop a bit. See if you can find any info out about Rosewood’s history. Never know. Might find something about witchcraft or even paranormal sightings.”

  “Good point.”

  “Are the creatures at least staying away.”

  I stop fiddling with my hair. “You know, I haven’t seen any except for the one in the woods and the one in my bedroom. But I haven’t seen them anywhere in school. I didn’t even realize it.”

  “Guess it’s a small blessing. Since I’ve calmed you down, I gotta go. Late for class.”

  “Didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  “Anything for you, Temptation. Miss ya.”

  “Miss you, too.” I stash the phone back in my bag and exit the bathroom. I stroll into the school library prior to my last class before lunch. Thousands of adventures locked away in crisp yellow and white pages greet my aching eyes. The scent of the aging books drains my problems away. My books at home are still stashed away in a box. At least one way to escape from reality without getting stoned encircles me with endless options.

  Picking out a couple of books, I make my way to the checkout where Mrs. Peters greets me. “Wow! Seven books. Sure you’ll be able to read these in a week?”

  “Be done before the end of the week,” I state, cheeks flaming with embarrassment at being a bookworm. “Fast reader.”

  Mrs. Peters holds up one of my books. “Paranormal Creatures: Are They Real?” She studies me over her thick reading glasses. “Interesting subject.”

  I began twisting the ends of my hair. Mrs. Peters’ stare intimidates me, but the biker gang still holds first place in the freak-out department.

  “Tell you what.” Mrs. Peters hands me the books. “I own an old but one-of-a-kind novel about a very strange tale of paranormal accounts. I’ll let you borrow it if you’re careful with it. I have the only copy that I’m aware of.”

  “Are you sure? I mean – I’d love to read it, but why would you trust me with it?”

  “You are very different, Temptation. And different is what this town needs; now…here’s my address.” Mrs. Peters hands over a business card. “I’m leaving to go home and I’ll be there until six tonight. You can come by after school to pick it up.”

  “Cool sh– I mean, cool.”

  The bell rings, signaling my next torture session. I give a rushed, “good-bye,” to Mrs. Peters. I deposit my books in my bent locker. Slamming it shut, I merged with the crowd. Students budge one another in an attempt to make it to their last class before lunch. The revolting aroma of perfume and musty bodies floats in the air.

  Disgusting.

  As I tiptoe along the side of the hall to avoid trampling feet, a backpack knocks me off balance, forcing me to grab the nearest person.

  “God! Learn how to walk, Freak!”

  “Sorry. Didn’t see you–” Recognizing whom I collided against, I stop my apology at once.

  The girl from the courtyard with the vicious attitude sneers. “Maybe you ought to get some glasses, and then we can call you a freak and a nerd.”

  A couple of girls giggle behind the brunette-haired girl. “Come on Victoria, you don’t need to waste your voice on trash.”

  I open my mouth to apologize, but at the word “trash,” I do not feel quite so remorseful. Victoria and her clique walk away, abandoning me in the hectic corridor. Knocking Victoria out before the end of the week now tops my list of things to do in Rosewood. Groaning, I push myself away from the wall, and resume my attempt to make it to class.

  A few minutes later, I enter the speech classroom while still inwardly fuming about my uncomfortable run-in with Victoria. Gossiping voices seal my trained ears. Victoria points and laughs in my direction. I roll my eyes at the group and sink into a hard plastic seat on the opposite side of the classroom, in the darkest corner I can find.

  A couple minutes later, whoops and howls erupt from the doorway. Two boys, identical except one has neon-orange hair and the other black, enter the room. They sit on either side of Victoria.

  Great. My day keeps getting better and better.

  Victoria smiles flirtatiously at the orange haired twin and snakes her arms around his neck. She calls me a freak, but those two look like they escaped a Las Vegas circus!

  “Good morning. I’m Mrs. Kindal. Today we’ll take turns introducing ourselves to the class. I want everyone to take out a piece of paper and brainstorm a speech introducing your name, how old you are, your hobbies, and most importantly, if you’re new to Rosewood. Then, I’ll call you to the podium to give your introductory speech. Afterward, you’ll take questions from the rest of the class. Okay, any questions about the assignment?” Mrs. Kindal asks.

  No one moves.

  “Very well, you can begin. I’ll be calling you in alphabetical order in ten minutes, starting with Miss Blare.”

  Dreading this might happen; I mentally began inventing wild excuses to leave the classroom. Pencils scratch against paper. The clock in the corner ticks like a countdown to doomsday. As I survey the students, my gaze lands on the black haired twin. His violet eyes narrow in on me. My stomach weighs heavy. Breathlessness brings the spidery chills across my skin.

  The twin grins.

  “Victoria Blare. You’re the first one up.”

  I gasp, but quickly put a hand to my mouth. Ignoring the twin, I watch Victoria detach herself from the twins and sashay to the podium. Her stylish brunette hair accents her green eyes. She straightens her tight shirt over her short-shorts and displays a dazzling smile at the applauding class.

  “Hey, everybody!” She laughs. “Thank you, thank you. I t
urned seventeen a week ago-”

  The class applauds, while the twins whoop.

  “Thank you. I moved to Rosewood a year ago and I am the top student in choir. My parents are both recruiters–”

  The class erupts in cheers again.

  I remain silent in the back of the class. I did not know there are any military bases near Rosewood.

  “–and I’ve best boyfriend, Herald Jenkins. His brother, Jerald, is a great friend too.” Victoria adds when Jerald pouts.

  Both of the twins stand and take a bow at the applauding class.

  “I’m also in charge of organizing the Halloween Mask Ball, which I promise will be entertaining, but not as much as last year because of the new people this term.” Victoria briefly glances in my direction. “Any questions?”

  “Oh, please.” I secretly wish I had paid more attention to Karma who tried to teach me a hex last month. Even if it did not work, I would have felt better knowing I tried.

  A couple of girls raise their hands. Victoria points to one of the trembling girls.

  “Are you singing at the Ball again this year?”

  Victoria glances at the Jenkins twins, who nod. “Of course! Who else could do better than I could? Come on people, give me some serious questions.”

  Another girl’s hand stretches toward the ceiling.

  The smile on Victoria’s face falters for a split second. “What, Christine?”

  “I thought Mrs. Peters is supposed to make those decisions, not you. From what I understand, she hasn’t even held auditions for that honor yet.”

  “Victoria is singing. Period.” Herald folds his hands behind his head, making the muscles along his arms bulge out. His dark glare causes the surrounding students to shift in their seats.

  I stare. His eyes look different. It maybe the lighting, but they are a crimson color. Herald glances my way. I bend my head down, pretending to be engrossed with my phone.

  “You can try out if you like, but everyone wants to hear a beautiful voice, not an amateur. Even with professional training, you don’t compare to me. It’s sad and embarrassing. Take my advice and forget about auditioning.”

  Victoria’s mocking smile and Herald’s smug expression tests my self-control. How I wish I could try out for the audition to show Victoria some humility.

  But I cannot. I will not.

  Those actions will attract predators and I do not want to present myself as easy prey. The teacher appears oblivious to the insulting comment directed at a flushed Christine. No more hands raise and the class applauds Victoria off the waxed stage.

  When the noise calms, Mrs. Kindal calls out, “Temptation Falls.”

  I lock my plum eyes on the floor. I receive a small applause, followed by low murmurs as I advance to the head of the classroom. An angry hive of bees cannot compare to the buzzing going through my head when I reach the podium. To further my discomfort, I realize I left my notes on the desk. As I gaze out over the classroom, my mind goes blank.

  Victoria snickers loudly.

  My eyes dart to the teacher, whose best encouragement transpires as, “Hurry up, Miss Falls, we’ve other students waiting to do their speeches.”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks and the fury I felt earlier returns. “My name is Temptation Belladonna Falls–”

  “Duh!” someone yells from Victoria’s table. The pitiless students explode into echoing laughter. A few bugs on the ceiling, scuttle about in panic. Again, Mrs. Kindal seems too preoccupied painting her hot pink nails to notice the rude behavior of her students.

  “I’m sixteen and moved to Rosewood with my family two days ago,” I finish in one breath.

  “Come on Miss Falls, you haven’t given me five seconds, let alone five minutes of speech.”

  I stare at the watch on Victoria’s wrist. “Five minutes.” The watch resembles the one I lost in the accident. I died for five minutes in that accident. Part of me wonders if I still might be dead and I am lost in limbo.

  “What are your hobbies?” Mrs. Kindal asks, using a nail file to scratch her head.

  Still spellbound by the watch, I say, “I like to read.”

  “Nerd!” Herald coughs in his hand.

  I depart from the podium. My metal D-rings clank together when I shift my way past the crowded desks. No way will I take any more of their verbal taunts.

  Victoria’s voice calls out from the crowd. “I heard you moved here because you went all crazy after your parents died and your last school requested you have psychiatric help.”

  Muttering spread out across the classroom. “How did your parents die?” someone asks.

  I return to my desk. “Car crash. I survived and since then everyone seems to think I’m a walking tragedy.” I bite the tip of my tongue and shake my head. “They think I’m still depressed.”

  “Aren’t you?” Jerald asks while flipping aside his shoulder-length black hair. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement. “I mean from what your cousin told me, you suffer from hideous hallucinations.”

  I grit my teeth at the teasing smile stretching across his handsome face.

  “You should’ve killed yourself. It would’ve made it easier on your cousin’s family,” Victoria says, while cuddling against Herald’s chest.

  Jerald frowns in Victoria’s direction.

  Mrs. Kindal now writes away in her journal, still oblivious to the cruel comments directed at me.

  “I mean listen to you, I like to read,” Victoria says. “You must bore your cousins to tears.” The rest of the class snickers.

  “Hey, do you only choke during a speech or is it during all extracurricular activities?” Herald sneers.

  More laughter breaks out.

  I do not like being taunted. I am not going to take it.

  “If I choked during my speech, it’s only because I was standing too close to vermin,” I stare meaningful at Victoria, “and the maggots who feed off the vermin.” Straightening up, I sneer with obvious disgust at the twins. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, you’re the maggots who only have a taste for trash.”

  Every student in the classroom sucks in their breath and silently watches the twins’ reactions.

  “Trash!” Victoria jumps to her feet. The twins remain motionless with shock. Guess they are not used to a girl putting them in check.

  “Enough, Miss Falls!” Mrs. Kindal’s wild eyes mirror the fury in my heart.

  I whirl around, “It’s interesting how they can mock the death of my parents, try to persuade me to commit suicide, say cruel sexual jokes, and you don’t seem to have a problem with them,” I say to Mrs. Kindal.

  “I think you need to leave my classroom and visit the guidance counselor Miss Falls. You obviously have a problem with authority and with lying. Out of my classroom!”

  I toss my backpack over my shoulder and say, “Happily,” before ramming into the exit door. When the heavy wooden door closes behind me with a loud bang, two tears fall on my cheeks. At least I did not let them see me cry. The counselor’s door, located in the middle of the hallway, arouses a pit of anger in me. The counselors at the mental institution Uncle Jack forced me to go to, acted so eager to help, but I understood the games they played. Karma’s mother is a counselor at my old school in Urbanna, Virginia. Karma warned me never to reveal any information about the creatures. Never trust a counselor, is what Karma said.

  Not wasting a minute, I march to the entrance of the school. The old librarian came to mind. Mrs. Peters told me to come by after school, but I do not want to wait. Checking my black-widow pendant around my neck, I note the time in the spider’s red spot. Twenty minutes until lunch starts. It should be enough time.

  Down the cracked street, the September wind caresses my tan skin. I flip open my cell phone and send a text message to Karma. In my mind, I can already see Karma’s horrified expression and her laughing. I wish I had done the same thing at Urbanna High.


  After hiking four blocks, I halt on Main Street. To my left, I catch sight of the run-down gas station next to my street, Weeping Willow Road. Directly across from the gas station towers an old Victorian mansion, which resembles a castle. I glimpse the house number and smile. The monstrous mansion is indeed Mrs. Peters’ home. Dense vines slither up the brick wall, obscuring the gaping windows, and pointy towers. The end of the mansion mutates into an old theater house. A rusted sign, with unrecognizable words, hangs over the entrance.

  I cross over to the other side.

  Despite the homes unfortunate location, two beautiful oak trees flourish in the landscaped yard. Two pallid tree benches wrap around the trees. I perform a skip on the concrete sidewalk. Numerous stone gargoyles guard the top of the mansion. A couple of stones fall from the roof. My head tilts backward as I gaze around for signs of life. “Could’ve sworn there were four gargoyles, not three.”

  The wind picks up and the trees shake with such force a few branches fall. I jump aside. My polished fingernails dig into my chest.

  “I declare, Dearie! I didn’t expect you until after school.”

  Mrs. Peters’ bushy hair pops out of the mansion’s door. Heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm, I grin at the old woman. Stumbling forward, I say, “Sorry. Couldn’t help staring–”

  “Quite all right, I understand completely. Actually, this house is the oldest in town. It’s been passed down from generation to generation to generation.” Mrs. Peters eyes, glaze with rusted memories, and she reminds me of the gothic stone angels in my parents’ cemetery.

  “What about the building next to you?”

  “Awe...the old theater. Built in the middle to late eighteen hundreds, I believe. Did rather well until a few tragic events occurred.”

  I follow Mrs. Peters into her dusty living room. “What happened?”

  “Few children went missing. Police investigated, but the old theater was the last place any of the children were seen. Nothing was ever found until after we closed the theater down as a memorial to the missing children. People started to talk of monsters dressed in bone masks. Claimed these creatures would come out at night and drag unguarded children into the underworld of the theater. Nevertheless, it’s all a piece of bologna. I’ve lived in this house my whole life, the theater is even connected to this house, and I’ve never seen any monsters.”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles. It is like a snake slithered under my skin. A little voice in my head whispers, but I have…

  “Why are you out of class so soon?” Mrs. Peters asks. Tipping her reading glasses to the bridge of her nose, she peers over their thick rims, and gives me a stern glare. “You aren’t skipping school are you?”

  Nervous, I twirl my fingers through my black and white hair. “No, my speech teacher excused me from class. It seems she ignores Victoria Blare and those Jenkins twins when they insult anyone, but if you try to defend yourself–”

  “–you get scolded.” Mrs. Peters frowns and continues walking through the living room. “Yes, unfortunately they’re treated like spoiled brats because of their parents’ authority over the school. It’s not fair, but it would be wise to avoid them as much as possible, Dearie. The Jenkins twins are the descendants of the founder of Rosewood.” Mrs. Peters stops in the kitchen.

  Even with the counters laden with dust and silvery cobwebs, the room feels magical. I turn away from the scratched white cabinets and peer over to Mrs. Peters, who rummages through a rickety bookcase also covered in dust and cobwebs. The place looks like it has not been used in decades. Behind her, a gaping hallway exhibited pure darkness. A sharp fear and coldness takes hold of my body.

  Something is not right.

  Someone is watching me.

  A pair of icy eyes ravages my every movement.

  “Oomph – Found it. Buried in the back of course–” Mrs. Peters touches my hand. “My goodness, Temptation. Are you feeling well? You look as pale as my cat, Snowball.”

  “Huh…I’m fine. Sorry, I’m curious about the hallway. Where does it lead?”

  Mrs. Peters' idle expression changes. “Oh – It leads to the theater, but we hardly ever go down there. It’s the reason we leave the lights off. No point in lighting an area where no one travels. Except on Halloween, of course. We keep up with the Rosewood tradition of the Masked Ball. It’s always held in the theater, something the Jenkins family insists we keep doing every year.” Mrs. Peters grabs my arm and forces me into the unlit living room. For such a short and feeble woman, she wields a firm grip. “Here’s the book I told you about. It’s very old, so be cautious with it and make sure to tell me how you like it.”

  I glance up at Mrs. Peters’ last statement. Something in her voice sounds eager.

  “I have to run back to school. I forgot a few things, so I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Temptation.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Peters. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  Outside, I can still feel eyes boring into me from the windows of the old mansion. Despite my fears, I dust off a shudder, stuff the book into my bag, and hurry back to school.

  I wonder if all small towns contain such strange people.

  I thought I saw someone peeking out of an old shop when I passed. People must be bored out of their minds to be interested in me walking down the street. When I arrive in the school parking lot, I realize the “someone’s” eyes glowed in the darkness.