Her Dark Sins

by T R Tells

  Speaking of seniors, I decided to text Mahogany since we hadn’t spent much time together.

  Me: Hey, do you want to hang out later? I haven’t seen you in a while. I’m busy after school, but when I’m done, we could pig out on sweets and watch every movie with Jason Mamoa in it.

  I didn’t know what was going on with my friend. Whether it was something supernatural or something else altogether, I would need to tell my friends the truth about what I could do, like how I told Alessander. I hated leaving them in the dark, and if things were to get crazy, I wouldn’t be able to do this alone.

  Mahogany: Can I take a rain check? I don’t feel up to it.

  I frowned. That didn’t sound like Mahogany, she would never turn down sweets or movie plans with her crush celebrity.

  Me: Moa, are you okay? You’ve been acting strange. I’m starting to get worried.

  Could she have an Umbra Shade? I could have sworn I saw one, but there was nothing I could do since it didn’t manifest.

  The phone vibrated to her text message:

  Mahogany: Yeah, I’m fine.

  Before I could ask her what was wrong, the sudden tingling sensation made me look up from my phone. Principal Whitmore stretched out his arm to the right stage to introduce the person about to come out, but I had a feeling who it could be.

  “—And now, Agent Jonathan Newman will have a few words for you.”

  The Agent stepped up to the podium and looked at the crowd. There was a serious gleam in his dark gray eyes.

  “I won’t take much of your time,” Agent Newman said. “What happened at your school was a terrible incident, and I give my condolences to the family and friends. That being said, whether this is a ‘terrorist attack’ or ‘disease’, I would like to warn everyone that there are dangers outside of your homes and schools.”

  There was talk among the crowds as they wondered what it was he was talking about.

  “...I am sure everyone has heard about the kidnappings that have been going on for a few months. Please be sure to form a buddy system, be aware of your surroundings, and take necessary precautions.”

  Once Agent Newman left the stage, Principal Whitmore came back, and a large projector dropped down from the ceiling so the memorial video could begin.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Helene: Did you just feel that? Is this Agent guy like us?

  Me: That’s what I’m starting to believe, yeah, maybe.

  Helene: Well, damn. Officially on alert now.

  I placed my phone and looked back at the stage.

  I couldn’t help but think about the kidnappings and if they were aligned with the crimes with the cult nine years ago — why was it happening again?

  ***

  After school, Helene texted me and said that she was waiting in the school’s parking lot. I messaged Alessander where I’d be.

  I saw Helene leaning against the side of her car with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “And all you’re missing now is the leather jacket and the Impala,” I commented, walking over to the passenger’s side.

  Helene opened her door. “I’m actually considering it. I even know where I can find an antique leather jacket.”

  We got in the car and sped off.

  The drive to Amelia’s house took us to Avondale Gardens, which is ten minutes away from the school, and six minutes away from Helene.

  “You know… ” I start my conversation, drawling my words. Helene glanced at me and raised her brow. “You’ve never invited me over, and I would love to meet your grandparents.”

  She quieted, and her hands grabbed the steering wheel at ten and two, before she spoke, “I guess I’ve always been an introvert and never really had friends since moving here. Except, my girlfriend, Kirstin. I’m not sure if I mentioned her to you…” She looked at me for a moment, turning away from the road, before looking back.

  I didn’t tell her that she had, but I’m glad that she was starting to open to me on her own accord.

  “... But since we’ve been hanging out and fighting together, I don’t see why not, I guess.” Helene shrugged. She looked hesitant, but that was the last thing I wanted.

  “Well, whenever you’re ready.”

  Helene smirked in my direction. If this was honestly the RPG Persona, I could already see our Social Link gaining another level.

  Once we pulled into Avondale Gardens, Helene parked in front of a long row of brick red apartments. I opened the car door, grabbing my book bag from the floor, and surveyed my surroundings. The area was quaint, with planted shrubs along the dirt pavement. There were black gates in front of each apartment door that led toward other patrons' homes.

  Across the street, on the opposite side of the Gardens were small shops and bodegas. I’d seen it when we passed, as well as a few graffiti buildings.

  “Wow, this looks—”

  “Normal?” Helene finished for me. I nodded. She followed me, and we walked by several apartments. “I never thought that she would live here, the way she likes to 'promote her posh lifestyle.”

  I wasn’t in a position to judge anyone, but Amelia was one person I thought lived an “upscale” lifestyle because of how she carried herself like she was better than everyone else.

  We turned the corner to one of the houses and walked the short pathway to the apartment’s door. There were several buttons on the side of the wall that had numbers beside people’s surnames.

  I pressed the call button name and number Alexei had sent me.

  After a few seconds I heard the sound of Amelia’s voice at the other end asking, “Who is it?” But before I could reply, there was the tone of a man’s voice—he sounded like a much older gentleman. Her father? The man was yelling something inaudible, followed by Amelia’s melodic tone as she tried to calm him down.

  I looked over at Helene. She furrowed her brows in confusion, mouthing: ‘Was that really, Amelia?’

  I shrugged my shoulders to let her know I was just as confused as she was when Amelia clicked back in.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  I leaned closer to the speaker and pressed the button:

  “Hey, Amelia… It’s Hira.”

  There was silence for a moment. The only sounds were passing cars and the occasional chatter from tenants in another part of the complex.

  “Think we scared her off?” Helene asked. Right after, Amelia’s voice chimed back in.

  “I’m going to kill Alexei. What do you want, Hira?”

  As if she could see what I was doing, I swung my bookbag around and started to fish through it so I could grab her homework. I held it in the air and pressed the call button.

  “I brought your homework.”

  Again, there was a pause. I could sense Helene’s impatience. She had her arms crossed, and she was tapping her foot on the cement ground. Her gaze let me know she was ready to get out of Dodge, until Amelia’s voice came back on the other end.

  “You might as well, you already know where I live, and I need that homework. I refuse to be just a C-grade student like most of you.” Helene snorted and rolled her eyes, mumbling, ‘And there goes the pretentious bitch’ underneath her breath. Amelia continued, “I’ll buzz you in.”

  The doors, after a moment, made a loud buzzing sound. I turned my head to the doors and grabbed the handle, but before I entered the hallway, I pressed the caller button:

  “Helene’s here too,” I said, and the two of us quickly entered the building before she could say anything else.

  There was an elevator in the right-hand corner when we ran inside. We pressed the button, and it didn’t take but seconds for the elevator to reach our destination. We walked along the pink tiled floor and stood in front of Amelia’s apartment number.

  I knocked, followed by ringing the doorbell.

  The door opened, and my eyes widened, surprised to see ‘Amelia’. Helene took the words right out of my mouth:

  “What the hell happened to you?”


  Amelia stood in front of us. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her hair, currently limp, didn’t have that extra sheen that made her coppery red tresses “pop.” She was even wearing a regular t-shirt and sweats instead of the usual frilly tops and skirts.

  This was definitely not the same Amelia I knew from school.

  She had her arms crossed, pink lips in a slight frown, and her bare feet tapping on the floor.

  “If you’re done ogling me, I’ll take my homework now.”

  I blinked a few times and held out the stack of papers for her. She grabbed them from my hands and tucked them close to her chest. Helene and I awkwardly stood in front of her as the silence passed between us.

  I finally spoke after a moment, “It isn’t Alexei’s fault, by the way. I pushed him to tell me.”

  She sighed and uncrossed her arms, holding the papers against her hip. She shook her head, and surprisingly, stepped out of the way with her arm extended out.

  “Well, you might as well come in,” she said and turned away from us, walking into her home. Helene and I looked at one another before entering the apartment. Helene closed the door behind her. “And make sure you take off your shoes.”

  We did as we were told and left our shoes by the door, where several other shoes were neatly aligned together.

  We were in the short hall of the doorway. The floors had light brown tile that stopped short of the brown-gray shag carpeting, where the living room was located. I couldn’t see much in the room except for a large CRT television against the cream-colored walls and a potted plant near the double doors that led out to the balcony.

  I walked along the floors to get a better look inside the room and saw an older man sitting in a dark brown armchair watching Law and Order.

  Amelia was talking to the older gentleman. He had darker tan skin and balding hair with several liver spots on his head. His chin sagged slightly, and there were several wrinkles along his face and hands.

  “Grandpa, I’m going to be upstairs with some friends… ” Helene sneered at the ‘friends’ part “—if you need anything, I’ll be able to hear from the baby monitor. Okay?”

  I could see a white baby monitor on the small table beside her grandfather. I couldn’t help but notice the way Amelia showed compassion for someone other than herself as she cooed and fluffed her grandfather’s pillow.

  “Marianna, where is my record player? I told you it’s not a toy.”

  Amelia sighed and touched her grandfather’s hand, leaning forward, so they were eye level. “Marianna is your daughter, papa. She’s working, remember? I’m your granddaughter, Amelia.”

  There was a moment as her grandfather furrowed his brows and blinked. I could see his lips quivering as he tried to form words, and my heart squeezed in my chest.

  “Amelia… Oh, oh, forgive me. Yes, yes. Go. I’ll have to catch the Rail Hub soon, can’t be late at the factory.”

  “Oh,” Helene said, her expression matching mine. We watched as Amelia’s shoulders sagged, exiting out of the living room and back to us.

  I could see a cloud slowly forming above her head that extended by several inches.

  “Thanks for taking off your shoes. Do you two want something to drink?” she asked heading through the kitchen doorway to our left. She grabbed three Pepsis, then led us up toward the carpeted steps to the right.

  Several pictures hung on the wall as we climbed the stairs. I recognized some of Amelia when she was younger. There were a few older photos; some in Sepia tone with groups of people smiling at the camera.

  We reached the top of the steps, and the first one in front of us was Amelia’s room, the other door at the corner was closed, and a bathroom in the middle.

  “You mentioned your mom, Marianna. You two live here with your grandfather?”

  I watched the back of Amelia’s head bob up and down.

  “Yeah. She works two jobs, so we barely get to see her,” she said and opened the door to her bedroom. She stood against the door, handing us the sodas as we walked into the room.

  There were pink throw rugs on the floor and a vanity shelf in the corner of the room. There was a large canopy bed, a flat-screen television across the room, a bean bag chair in the corner, and an extravagant window seat with pink throw pillows propped against the sides. There was a small bookcase beside her bed; the book titles I could make out were either non-fiction or about journalism.

  Amelia had a copy of Crime and Punishment on her nightstand beside her bed.

  “Wow, you and my uncle would get along great. Have you gone to Your Classic Books in the Six Corners?”

  “Maybe once or twice,” she said, sitting down on the side of her bed and tossing her homework on the book. I couldn’t help but notice the draggy tone in her voice. “You two can sit anywhere, just don’t make a mess.”

  I snagged a white wooden chair tucked under the space of her vanity table before Helene could get to it. I grinned and stuck my tongue at her. Helene groaned and plopped down on a bean bag chair. As she opened her soda, a mountain of fizz spurted out, and she tried to catch the overflowing Pepsi with her mouth.

  Amelia groaned and rolled her eyes.

  “I said don’t make a mess.”

  Helene sipped loudly on the overflowing can, rolling her eyes, before mumbling, “Jeez, sorry, mom.”

  “What are you two doing here? Because I know it isn’t to check on me or to bring me homework—Remember, we don’t like each other.”

  At the mention of her comment, the cloud above her head started to swirl. I couldn’t take my eyes off the size of it, and I had to wonder what was wrong with Amelia to warrant a cloud that size. She always seemed confident with a good head on her shoulders.

  “Well,” I started to say after a moment, realizing that everyone was looking at me, “It was going to start with the incident that happened at school, you know, the lockdown?”

  I watched as she flinched, and her hands tightened around the can.

  “... It, uh, has the intrigue, action, and controversy that you wanted, but only if you added the prejudice that came after it toward the LGBTQIA+ community. We shouldn’t even need to add anything that glamorizes it because discrimination is something that needs to be heard. I’m afraid that someone is going to be killed again.”

  I was waiting for Amelia to fight back and to pull out all the reasons why she wouldn’t do the article, but she surprised us.

  She was running her finger around the rim of the can while she listened. When I finished, her shoulders lifted and she said, “Sure, whatever, I guess.”

  I could see the shock on Helene’s face.

  “But now,” I said, getting to the bottom of why I was really here. “We came to see what’s been going on with you. Alexei told me you’ve been having night terrors, and you’ve been scared ever since that day.”

  She flinched again and gritted her teeth. “That’s none of your business.” Her head was slightly down, but I could sense the tension in the air. “We aren’t friends, so don’t pretend you care about me, and I won’t pretend to care about you.”

  This time she glanced up at me with her usual snarky look on her face. Still, unlike any other time, her expression was crestfallen and exuded misery.

  “I didn’t care when I posted those articles about your boyfriend.”

  On any other day I would have gone off on Amelia, but right now… she seemed so broken and beaten. I don’t think any harsh words could bring her much lower.

  “And yet, I know that there is something more under the surface. I want to help.”

  Amelia snorted, and the cloud above her head enlarged until it was the size of a pillow. I was starting to get worried that the Apathy she was expressing would begin to manifest an Umbra Shade.

  “There’s nothing you can do that can help me. After that incident, I can barely go outside and I can hardly face my fans. I’ve been too lethargic to post anything on my vlog or my Instagram, I’m just always tired… ”

 
My stomach flipped, recognizing the signs.

  “...But I have to do this,” Amelia said. I noticed the break in her voice as her words shook. Her eyes were glassy when she looked at me, “—because my mom comes home tired every single day. I hate to see her like that, knowing that I can’t do anything to make her life less stressful, so I push back how I’m feeling so I don’t burden her.”

  The beanbag chair Helene sat on made a crunching noise as she leaned forward. “And there’s no way you can ask for some kind of assistance?”

  Amelia scoffed and laughed, shaking her head. “Please, the government only helps who they want to help, or if they are United States citizens in deep poverty.”

  I furrowed my brows when she added emphasis to the word.

  “What do you mean?”

  Amelia sighed. She placed the can down on the nightstand and folded her hands together.

  “My grandfather isn’t a U.S. citizen, that’s why. He’s Polish. Shortly after meeting my grandmother they eloped, wanting to start a family but knowing they couldn’t in Poland. They had my mother shortly after coming to America. They held a few odd jobs, barely enough to survive, but they were happy. Still, there was always something that went wrong.”

  I shivered.

  “...My mother and I are the only “Americans.” So you see, the government can take pity on people who have ten different baby daddies, lie on their taxes, and God knows what else. If they took one look at a half Criollo and Polish family, they would be ready to crucify, mock, and send them back to where they came from. And then you have those who claim to be ‘sympathizers,’ and they write stories or produce movies about the hardships. But they don’t actually know the struggles people face or try and get the facts straight. It didn’t matter if my grandparents were happier, they still had to suffer, and they were treated worse than cattle. My grandmother died in a country she barely knew that treated her like garbage. My grandfather’s dementia is getting worse, forcing him to relive moments, both good and bad, that my mom and I have to explain no longer exist. We have to watch the sad look on his face that only turns to optimism, confusion, fear, and then sadness over and over and over....”