Between Life & Death

by E K Bennett

  Sam only lives about two blocks away, so I’m there all the time. I get to her house and walk right in because Sam’s mom doesn’t bother getting up to get the door for me anymore. I guess I’d consider her a pretty cool mom; she’s the kind that lets you talk about sex and stuff without thinking it’s inappropriate. It’s refreshing.

  “Hi, Lydia,” her mom says from the couch. She’s watching the same show as Miranda was when I left, but then again it could be a totally different program. All the people look they say to me—plastic and orange. With big hair. But I don’t say that out loud around anyone that I don’t know very well because religious reality T.V. watchers apparently find that offensive. Kind of like how if you tell someone who’s really into rock that AC/DC and Guns N’ Roses sound the same. Seriously, don’t do it.

  “Sam’s in the basement. You know where it is,” she tells me.

  I shrug and bound down the stairs. Sam’s on the couch, watching a movie. Adam’s here, too, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Oh, how sweet,” I say with mock enthusiasm, and I plop down on the couch with them.

  Sam and Adam are actually pretty cute as a couple. It’s mostly because they’re not perfect. In fact, they’re kind of opposites. Sam’s pretty, but not really conventionally pretty. She’s baby-faced with big brown eyes and tiny lips. Her face is round and she has chestnut-colored hair that’s grown out a few inches past her shoulders. She dyes the bottom layer a different color every few weeks. Right now it’s blue, which is new as of today. At first we thought it would be a stupid idea, but Sam somehow makes it look acceptable. She’s the shortest one out of all of us and isn’t thin. She’s not fat, but she’s not skinny either.

  Adam, though, has very dark hair like mine. He’s tall and thin, and most of him is just pretty much average. The only extraordinary part of him is his ice blue eyes, which are really pretty because he has thick, dark eyelashes. A lot of girls think he has beautiful eyes, including me, which would probably label him as girly. But Adam is a pretty badass, I have to say. And when he’s with Sam, they both just seem so happy. If you take one look at those two, you’d swear they were meant for each other. Sounds cheesy? Yeah, I’ll stop before you throw up. But the truth’s a bitch, I have to say.

  I toss the yogurt at Sam and she catches it. “You don’t look sick to me,” I say.

  “Yeah,” she replies, “I think missing school to go to the mall was the best medicine.” She winks.

  I shake my head in fake disappointment. “And you didn’t invite me because…?”

  “Because then you’d see my surprise!” she hops up from the couch and turns off the television. Then, she goes and turns off the lights.

  It’s pitch dark and I look around for a second, but something catches my eye. Sam laughs. Something’s glowing by the doorway, bouncing up and down in the air.

  “Glow in the dark hair dye? Are you kidding me?” I gape.

  “ISN’T IT NIFTY?” she screams. I can tell she’s dancing. She turns the lights back on and sits down next to me.

  I can’t say I’m surprised. Sam’s obsessed with glow in the dark anything. She collects glow in the dark nail polish, shoe laces, socks, eyeliner, paint, shoes, teddy bears, lipstick, and even contact lenses.

  “So did I miss anything at school today?”

  I shrug. “Well, I wrote you a note but it got wrecked,” I pout.

  “Well what did you do to it? Drop it in the toilet?” she laughs. I don’t.

  “No. Someone took it. I don’t even know how they did it because I was sitting right there and it disappeared from my desk. Then I found it in my math book. I don’t even get it.”

  “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard in my life! Did you throw it out?” she asks.

  I pull it out of my pocket. “It’s right here. Like I said, ruined.”

  Sam puffs out her cheeks and unfolds it. “I can’t read it. It looks like someone used it as a shoe and ran through the woods. And took a swim in the creek. That’s trippy.”

  I nod my head. “Except that couldn’t have happened because it was taken in history and who knows when it was put in the book. I don’t know who could have taken it, threw it around in the woods, then brought it back to school and somehow gotten into my locker.”

  “Well maybe someone took it and had to leave early to go to the dentist or something. And while they were walking out they were reading it and a wind picked it up out of their hands and it tumbled into the woods behind the school. Then maybe a student was outside having a smoke and found it, recognized the actually legible words were in your handwriting and couldn’t find you so they just broke into your locker and stuck it in your math book…” she pauses. “Yeah, I guess that doesn’t make much sense at all…” she finishes, realizing how stupid that all sounded.

  I rub my temples and say, “I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s really worth all this contemplating. There’s probably a logical explanation for this that I’m just not smart enough or even care enough to figure out.”

  Then Adam laughs. And I giggle. And Sam completely loses it because that’s just how she rolls. And then the subject changes and we all forget about the stupid note. I stuff it in my pocket and Adam starts telling us about his English teacher’s big head or something. But in the back of my mind this whole thing is still bothering me. Burned in the back of my brain is the hateful image of that little girl outside the window.

  And she won’t get out of my head.

  4. She’s Lost

  It's starting to get dark earlier and the sun is setting by five thirty now. Sam offered to give me a ride so I could stay longer, but I decided to just go home anyway. The trees and houses are painted gold with setting sunlight, which makes it look like I'm walking through a painting. It's beautiful.

  By the time I get to my house, the sun is nothing but a sliver of blinding gold on the horizon. I have to ring the doorbell because the door is locked. While I wait, I stare down the street, where a little kid is bouncing a ball. I sigh. I still have to do my homework, and my math teacher piled it on today. I wish I'd brought Adam home with me.

  The little girl's ball goes into the street and she runs to get it. My eyes get wide because she doesn't notice the car speeding toward her.

  I yelp and can't help but raise my hands up to my eyes. It's not like I could do anything about it, the scene is a hundred feet away, maybe. Nevertheless, I start running frantically to the girl. She's lying motionless on the street, and the white car is now far ahead moving at a constant speed like they aren't even aware that they just flattened a child. Tears spring to my eyes; I've never witnessed anything even close to this before.

  The girl is pale and obviously not breathing, but she just keeps opening and closing her fist. I kneel down, and her creepy dark eyes are still opened wide with surprise. I choke back a sob and start to scream, like maybe I can get some real help.

  "Would you help me?" I hear a whisper behind me.

  When I turn around, there isn't one person behind me. I look back to the girl, ready to get a pulse, but...

  I gasp and almost fall backwards. "Help!" the little girl whisper-yells. Her mouth is moving but the voice is still behind me. Like it's in the back of my head. I'm sure my eyes are the size of golf-balls. There's a pool of blood where she was lying a minute ago, but now she's standing still in front of me now, holding her rubber ball without a care.

  I shake my head and take a step back. "You just..." I stutter.

  "I'm lost," she says quietly. "But I have a plan! Trust me!" She smiles excitedly and holds out her hand.

  "Lydia?" My sister's voice rings out through the neighborhood.

  "I should go." The girl pulls her hand away, then she turns and runs away.

  My legs won't let me follow her. The last thing I hear of the strange little girl is a playful giggle and she dribbles the ball while she disappears into the now completely set sun.

  ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

  I don't say a word at dinner.
The more I try to think about the car and the little girl, the less I can remember. My head is pounding with a migraine-- I've never gotten a migraine before now. Mom notices.

  "Lyd, you look pale," she says softly. I think she probably had a bad day at work from the tired tone of her voice.

  "Yeah, migraine." She puts a dish away into the cupboard and I flinch.

  "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

  I nod my head.

  "Well, go to bed early tonight, will you? You don't look good. Are you done with your homework?"

  I shrug. "Almost," I lie smally.

  "Then get to it, babe," she says sternly. I turn quickly and fall on my bed when I find it. The only thing I remember from before dinner is the pool of blood on the sidewalk.

  5. And She Didn’t Even Scream

  "Halloween is so stupid, though, Sam," I groan while she rifles through a rack of used clothing.

  She rolls her eyes. "You're stupid! Now what do you think of this?" She holds up a baggy brown dress-shirt thingy.

  "Hmmm, if you're going as a paper bag, maybe," I laugh and lean against the thrift store wall.

  Sam furrows her brow and hangs the brown thing back up. "Have you seen that girl lately?" She says nonchalantly while focusing on a pair of leather pants with sunglasses printed on them. She cringes and puts it back.

  I raise my head. It's been three weeks since I saw that little girl get hit by a car then walk away from it. I actually hadn't thought about it in days.

  "No," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "I don't even think I've seen her before that. I can't remember any details about her face, what color the car was that hit her... Ughh this kills me!"

  "Jeez, that's frustrating! Maybe..." Sam trails off.

  "Maybe what?" I ask, even though I know what she was planning on saying.

  "Nothing."

  "I know, I know. What if I imagined it? What if it was really just a dream or something?" I suggest. Sam nods. "I really don't know. Maybe we should just forget it happened."

  With that, we drop the subject and keep looking for Sam's Halloween costume.

  ~_~_~_~_~_~_~

  Nine deaths in one summer.

  Nine funerals.

  Nine murders.

  "Make it ten," the voice whispered.

  Sometimes the woman showed up in person, but lately she had been nothing but a voice to Lotty.

  Lotty combed her hair, feeling numb. Her skin was paler than it was two months ago, back when she killed John. She looked tired and older, with darker hair and darker eyes. Lotty's hair was golden yellow until her fourth murder. It was now a dishwater blonde. It didn't make a difference though, because Lotty was stronger. The voice was right; she felt like she could take on anything.

  She set the brush down on her lap, picking at the loose hairs between the bristles. "Who?" Lotty whispered softly.

  The voice seemed to be contemplating. "Why don't you choose, love? It's your tenth one, you deserve a treat," it finally decided.

  Lotty slumped her shoulders. She never made decisions like this before. "Oh dear... I'm not sure. Sylvia Michealson is a bit unfriendly. She took the penny I found last December. I wanted to buy candy with that."

  The cold hands rubbed Lotty's shoulders and ran across her cheek. They were so comforting, but she couldn't stop the anger swelling in her chest. She bit back tears, not wanting to seem weak. "When should I..?"

  "Tonight will be acceptable..." The voice paused. "She will need to fetch some water before supper, I'll make sure of it. You can meet her at the well at about six 'o clock."

  Lotty smiled. "You'll do everyone a favor by killing this one. She's too spoiled. Good luck," the voice whispered sweetly.

  At five thirty, Lotty set out to the well. It was a twenty minute walk and she planned on waiting in the bushes for a while in case Sylvia came early. Lotty knew better, though. The voice always kept her promises; Sylvia would be here at exactly 6, on the dot.

  Sylvia had a light step, and she swung the bucket back and forth as she skipped to the well. Her dress was nicer than Lotty's. It had lace and her stockings were hole-free. Sylvia's mother pinned up her hair every day unlike Lotty's mother, who never had time. It took her mom twice as long to do anything in the house any more. She was always worrying, always out of it. Lotty couldn't help but resent Sylvia. She didn't need that extra penny last December; her family was rich.

  Lotty stepped out of the bushes. Sylvia smiled. "Hello, Lotty!" She smiled. "I'm getting water for supper! We're having a roast!" This girl was so freaking peppy. It was probably all an act.

  "Here," Lotty beamed, reaching for the bucket. "Why don't you let me help you with that?"

  "Gee, Lotty! Thank you!" Sylvia handed off the bucket.

  "So," Lotty said, "I really like your dress. Did your Gran make it? It's simply beautiful!" She lowered the bucket down into the well and scooped up some water.

  "Thank you!" Sylvia replied, fingering the hem. "And yes, actually! My Nana made it for my birthday!"

  Lotty unhooked the bucket and took it by the handle with both hands.

  "Maybe I can ask her to make you--" Sylvia started, but was interrupted.

  Lotty hefted up the bucket and swung all her weight around to smack the bucket right into Sylvia's skull. She groaned and her knees buckled, then she crumpled to the ground, holding her bleeding head. Lotty lifted Sylvia back to her feet and sat her on the edge of the well.

  "I'm sorry! I must have slipped..."

  Sylvia just whimpered.

  "Here," Lotty said, ripping a swatch of lace off of Sylvia's dress. "Let me stop the bleeding."

  She raised the fabric to the girl's forehead and narrowed her eyes. "You're a spoiled brat."

  And Sylvia didn't even scream when she plummeted down the dark well.

  ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

  My phone is ringing. I rolled over and make an angry face. "Hello?" I groan with a scratchy throat.

  "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!" Sam and Adam shout in unison on the other end.

  "Is it?" I retort, my strained voice dripping with sarcasm.

  "Yes! It's gonna be so fun tonight trick-or-treating!" God, she is so happy. Who has this much energy this early in the morning... I look at the clock. 11:17. Shit, I take that back.

  I push off my blankets and put my glasses on. "Jeez, Sam. You're, like, high off of Halloween. Take a chill pill." I can hear Adam chuckle in the background.

  "Yeah, yeah," Sam says. "When are you coming over? I've tried calling for like two hours and you didn't answer. Did you just wake up?"

  I stretch out my arms and remember my creepy little dream. "Yeah, I just woke up. I was up all night. I kept having this nightmare and slept like shit."

  "Oh," says Sam with sympathy. Then she laughs. "You had a nightmare on Halloween. Coincidence? I think not. You can tell me about it when you get here. It'll be fun, like a scary story!"

  I shake my head and smirk. "I'll bring the flashlight!" I laugh and get my costume together, pull on a hoodie, and roll out of my room for breakfast.

  A night of scary stories, free candy, complete darkness, and monsters galore? Let the games begin.

  6. She’s Not a Friend

  "Dude, that's ridiculous. You're fucked up!" Adam's voice comes from behind his ninja mask. He has to lift it off his face to stuff another roll of Smarties in his mouth.

  "Yeah, and it felt so real! Damn, I should like get some psychology or somethinnnn," I drift off, high on sugar and swear words.

  Sam laughs her small laugh and says, "Psychology? I think you mean therapy! Hey, let’s go to your house, I’m freezing my ass off."

  We all agree that we've gotten enough candy and roll on over to my house. The porch lights are off-- it's nearly midnight-- and I can't see anyone inside. We all laugh and stumble up to the porch and sneak in.

  "Mom's probably out with her friends," I say, and something catches my eye.

  Miranda's sitting at the kitchen table with three of her friends, hunched o
ver what looks like a board game with three long candles as the only lighting. "Is that a ...Ouija Board?" I ask, puzzled.

  They're too immersed in whatever the hell they're doing to answer me, but Sam draws in a sharp breath. "Oh my God!" She shouts. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? How long have you been doing this?" The light mood from just a moment before is completely gone.

  Miranda's mouth forms an 'o' shape. "It's just for fun, stupid," she snaps.

  "Just for fun. Awesome. No, you obviously don't know what the hell this thing is because you're just playing around with it like it's a toy!" She says 'toy' like you would say 'atom bomb'.