by Melody Adams
"Fantastic story," I replied. "But I don't believe a word of it!"
But even though I did not admit it in front of her, her words had awakened a spark of doubt in me. What if she didn’t lie? Beth was a cunning bitch that would do near enough anything to get what she wanted. The incident happened after we told Beth that we wouldn’t do anything as long as Abby did not hurt her. And as for the testimony, Abby was right. These girls would confirm everything their queen said. They would lie for Beth without batting an eyelid. I would continue my plans for revenge with Abby, but I would tone it down a bit. No more nights in cellars. Instead, I would resort to old-fashioned bullying. And I would also do some research to see if the whole thing was not a cleverly devised lie by our Queen Bee.
Chapter 5
Abby
Two days passed since Kent had freed me from the cellar. I had actually spent all day and all night in that dark hole. That son of a bitch. But my rage at him had freed me, had shaken off the terror and fear. The dark clouds inside of me had dissipated, and I had not felt the need to cut myself or stick my finger down my throat since my liberation. Kent had left me alone until now. Although I felt the hatred of the other students when I walked through the hallways or sat in the classroom or cafeteria. I heard their spiteful words, but no one came close to me. I was ready to believe the night in the basement would be the only punishment I had to face for my alleged crime. Or Kent believed me when I declared my innocence. But as I approached my locker, I found that my ordeal had not yet ended. The letters R.I.P. were sprayed on my locker in black paint, with an upturned cross underneath. My heart raced as I approached the locker. More and more students gathered around me. I heard them whisper. Tensing my shoulders, I opened my locker as if I didn’t notice the sprayed message. As I opened the locker, something fell towards me. A snake. A couple of girls standing around screamed hysterically. I stood still. If Kent thought he could scare me with a snake, he was dead wrong. A spider in my closet would have me running away screaming. But I wasn’t afraid of snakes. And this snake here wasn’t even poisonous. It was a baby Tiger Python. I bent down and picked it up.
"Hey, Beautiful. Sorry that asshole locked you in my locker. I can relate to that, believe me," I said, holding the snake in front of my face and looking into its snake eyes. Yes, I could only too well relate to how it felt after my night in the basement.
With the snake in my hand, I slowly turned around. Shock, horror and disgust were written on the faces of the girls, who all kept a great distance. Some boys chuckled while others looked at me with a mixture of shock and respect. But I paid no attention to any of the students until my gaze met the culprit. Kent stood, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His face and eyes didn’t give away what he thought or felt. Whether he was disappointed that his prank had gone wrong. Or whether he felt admiration for me because I held the snake in my hands instead of running away screaming. Nothing betrayed his thoughts or feelings. We stared at each other in silence for quite a while. Then I turned away, closed my locker and took the snake to the school administration. I was sure that the snake came from the terrarium in the bio lab. I would see to it that the poor thing returned to its familiar surroundings.
Kent
Surprisingly, I felt admiration for Abby as she stood in front of me with the snake in her hand. Who would have guessed that she wasn’t afraid of snakes? I’d never met a girl who was not afraid of snakes, spiders and mice. Maybe I should have used a spider instead. But we didn't have any spiders in the bio lab. Only snakes, hamsters and mice. The crowd dispersed when Abby disappeared with the snake towards the office.
"Well – this was a total bust," Ian said next to me with a quiet laugh.
"Yeah, you could say that," I replied.
"I didn't think the little one was this tough," Gregory mused.
"What did you think up next?" Ian wanted to know.
"Yes, Kent. What's next?" Nate asked with a grin. "The snake was a good idea. Any other girl would have freaked out. You couldn't have known she wouldn't be scared."
"Am I the only one who thinks it's hot when a chick holds a snake in her hands?" Seth asked. "Imagine if she was naked, and the snake was wrapped around her tight little body..."
Nate smacked Seth over the head and Seth fell silent, mischievously grinning.
"Can you think of anything else but sex?" Nate asked, annoyed.
"Umm - Nope!"
"And that is why I chose Nate to carry out the punishment. You would have been up to your balls in her cunt by now."
I didn't mention that the idea of sinking Mr. D deep into Abby's cunt crossed my mind on more than one occasion. Yeah, Seth was right when he said there was something hot about a woman with a snake. Was the snake not a symbol of sin? Not that I was a Bible reader or anything, but the odd thing from religious education in elementary school was still stuck. There was a story about Adam and Eve and the snake...
"KENT?"
"Huh?"
"Ground control," Nate said, punching my upper arm. "Where did you go, dawg?"
"Oh, I was... just thinking about what I might do next," I lied. "I have to make sure I find the right punishment after the bust with the snake."
"I have complete trust in you, man," Nate said, patting me on the back.
The bell rang for the beginning of next class and I noticed that everyone but us had already disappeared into the classrooms. Not that it was a real problem for the KINGS if we were late for class. The teachers gave us a lot of space. Even though our immunity from punishment was not unlimited, the teachers and the school management tolerated a lot of things. They knew that it was not in their interest to make a fuss over small things. As long as we didn't kill anyone or set the damn school on fire, everything was fine.
"Okay, class has begun," Nate said. "We'll talk about it over lunch."
Abby
My room was the only place where I found some kind of peace. Beth bitched whenever and wherever she could. Aunt Claire tried to be kind, but I felt her regret for having taken me into her house. Only the guilty conscience towards my dead mother kept her from kicking me out of the house. And at school? Kent terrorized me for a week. Just with little things. Nothing like the night in the basement. But it slowly cracked my shell. From dog shit in my locker to soaked clothes after sports, he found several things every day to make my life at school uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that people always bumped into me in the hallway. Or tripped me in the cafeteria when I walked past a table with my tray. I’d started sticking my finger down my throat again after lunch in the toilet to get rid of the food sitting like a stone in my stomach. And since noon today, my fingers have been itching to cut. During the lunch break, the KINGS came to my table. Kent had poured a glass of honey over my head, and then Ian emptied a packet of flour over me. The whole cafeteria had laughed. I hadn’t been able to get the sticky mixture of honey and flour out with water and paper towels in the toilet. So I went to the principal to ask to use the showers in the locker room, but Mr. Godwin had sent me home instead. So I’d walked – covered in honey and flour – all the way home from school. Fortunately, Aunt Claire hadn’t been home, and at least I was spared that. Beth was in a clinic in Denver until next month. She had her scar removed by a plastic surgeon. And of course only the best surgeon, who worked in a renovated clinic in Denver, would do for the Queen Bee. Aunt Claire had to dig deep into her pockets. Now it made more sense that Beth hadn’t been afraid to cut her face up. She must have planned all along that she would have the scar removed. Not that this would convince the five KINGS that maybe I was innocent after all. No, the assholes made their judgment on me and I had to suffer for it every day. How much longer would that go on? Would they ever stop? And how long would it take before I would break under the pressure? I was already falling into a deep hole again. I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. The last time this happened, I’d cut my wrists. With every prank that Kent and the others played on
me, I got deeper and deeper into the spiral of depression and hopelessness. My nightmares had also returned. I could never remember what these dreams were about. But I woke up sweating and screaming, my heart racing, and fear and guilt like shards of glass in my bowels. I never knew why I felt guilt or for what. But I’d had these feelings since I could think back. As if I did something bad. But I couldn’t remember what.
Absent, I scratched my scars through the sleeves of my pajamas. The dark clouds seemed to have found a permanent home in my chest. I didn't notice tears running down my cheeks or my scratching becoming more and more aggressive. It was only when the urge to cut became overwhelming that I rose from my bed as if in a trance and stepped into my adjoining bathroom. It had advantages that every bedroom in this house had its own bathroom. I unzipped my toilet bag and reached into the small inside pocket where I hid the razor blade. I placed my left forearm on the edge of the sink and pushed the sleeve up to the elbow. My hand was steady as I guided the blade to my forearm. Relief flooded through me as the pain pushed aside the black clouds inside me and my head supplied me with endorphins. Floating on an euphoric cloud, I stared, as if in a trance, at the thin trickle of blood running from the incision and dripping into the sink. It was a liberating feeling to bleed the demons out of my body. Even though the relief was never permanent. I would only find permanent relief if I set the blade deeper. If I cut from my wrist upwards. I let the blade hover over my pulse for a moment, my gaze turned to the scar from my last attempt to slit my wrists. It had felt so good as the blood slowly ran out of the wounds. How I became weaker. Tired. Free. The redeeming darkness within my grasp. If only Mom hadn't found me. But the memory of the panic in Mom's eyes made me feel guilty. It had been a shock for her to find me with my wrists cut. It had never been my desire to cause her pain. I had not thought about what my suicide would do to her.
But now there is no one left who would miss you.
It was true. If I killed myself now, nobody would shed a tear for me. Aunt Claire would be relieved, but she would feel bad about it because she was a good person. I'm sure Beth would be glad to be rid of me. Kent might feel betrayed for his revenge, but he wouldn’t mourn me either. Neither would the rest of the KINGS. Or the other students. They would whisper to each other. I hadn’t been quite right in the head. Or the guilt of my alleged sins had driven me to my death. For a short while I would still be a topic of gossip at school before everyone would return to normality. No one would place flowers and candles by my locker. No, I was insignificant to the people around me. I was alone. I would always be alone. With a sob, I let the blade slip from my fingers and it landed with a soft clink in the sink. For a while I stood like this until the blood stopped flowing. I turned on the water and washed the wound before I cleaned the sink. Then I took Betadine and a cotton pad from the cupboard and spread Betadine on the wound so it would not get infected. After I pulled the sleeve of my pajamas back down, I went to bed. It didn’t take long before I fell asleep.
I awoke from Mommy's cries. My little heart raced painfully in my chest. Mommy! Why did she scream like that? It sounded like she was in terrible pain. Or she had a bad dream. Why didn't Daddy help her? What should I do? Tears streamed from my eyes. I didn't like it when Mommy screamed. I didn't want her to be in pain. Or having a bad dream. I sat up and stared around in the semi-darkness of my room. The nightlight in the shape of a unicorn on my nightstand gave me enough light to find my way around the room. Daddy bought it for me. He had bought it as an apology for hurting me. I didn't like it when Daddy hurt me. But I liked his presents. And he was sorry. Mommy always said you should forgive people when they're sorry. When they apologized.
Mommy screamed again. I had to see why she screamed. I needed to do something to make it better. Just like she made everything better when I fell down and skinned my knees. Not if Daddy had hurt me. Mommy didn't know that Daddy hurt me. Daddy said it was our secret. That Mommy would just get so mad and it would hurt her. I didn't want anything to hurt Mommy.
I got out of bed and grabbed my teddy bear Brownie. Holding the teddy firmly pressed against my chest, I crossed my room. I was scared, but I had Brownie with me. He would make sure that nothing happened to me. I opened my door and stepped into the dark hallway. There was no nightlight here. Only the faint light from the outside lamp that came in through the glass in the front door at the end of the hallway. I walked slowly down the hallway, holding Brownie tight. Mommy's screams came from the living room. The door to the living room stood ajar. Carefully, I opened the door a little further until I could see into the room behind. Mommy kneeled on the floor. A man kneeled behind her with his fingers in her hair at the back of her head. He hit her head – face first – on the floor. We had a thick carpet, but I could tell by Mommy's scream that it must have hurt, anyway. The man hurt Mommy. Like Daddy hurt me sometimes. Would the man be sorry tomorrow too? Would he buy Mommy something nice because he was sorry? But I didn't want him to hurt Mommy. Even though he was sorry.
"Please," Mommy begged, crying. "Please. What about the baby? You could hurt the baby."
Baby? What baby? I didn't understand what Mommy meant.
"All the better," growled the man. I knew his voice. It was Daddy. Daddy was hurting Mommy. He moved faster behind Mommy. "You think I want Dan's bastard in my house?"
"Please. It's not the baby's fault," Mommy sobbed.
Daddy pushed Mommy away, and she landed on her stomach with a scream. Then daddy turned her on her back and started hitting mommy's tummy. Mommy screamed terribly and tried to fight back. I was paralyzed with fear. I was afraid for Mommy. And I was afraid that Daddy would see me and hurt me too. I had to do something. What could I do? My eyes fell on the sabers that Daddy had hung on the wall above the dresser. Daddy said the sabers were antiques. That meant they were really old. But they looked sharp. I tiptoed over to the dresser and carefully took one of the sabers, which were attached to the wall like a cross, out of its holder and turned to Mommy and Daddy. Mommy made funny noises. That scared me. I sped up my steps. I raised the saber above my head. It was heavy, but I knew I had to be strong. I had to save Mommy. I struck. I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
Chapter 6
Abby
I awoke with a cry on my lips. Sweat covered my body. I had been dreaming again. I couldn't remember what I had dreamed. Only this feeling of fear and guilt remained in my memory. It was like that after every nightmare. I was not sure if it was good or bad that I couldn’t remember what happened in my dreams. Maybe I could handle the fear and guilt better if I knew what it was all about. Maybe I could even stop the dreams. But maybe my head didn’t allow me to remember. Maybe my mind protected me from something.
I sat up and the cool night air on my damp, heated skin made me shiver. My heart still raced a hundred miles an hour, and my breathing came irregular. Almost painful. My ribs felt as if they’d been bruised. My insides seemed to take up too much space, as if my body was too small. I knew the signs. Panic attack.
Breathe! In and out. In and out.
I tried to follow my own advice, but the panic was like a beast clawing in my chest. It tore and clawed at his prison. I clenched my hands into fists until my nails cut into the flesh of my palms. But the pain was not enough. It would not defeat the beast inside me. I jumped out of bed and staggered into the bathroom. With unsteady, panicky movements, I searched for the blade in my toilet bag. I cut my fingertips when I reached for it too quickly. Still, the pain wasn’t enough. But it calmed the beast that was out for blood a little, so I could slowly settle down on the floor. With my back leaning against the bathtub, I lifted my pajama shirt and laid the blade against the soft flesh of my belly. I cut from left to right below my navel. With a relieved sigh, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for a moment as the endorphins began to work. While the blood flowed out of the wound in a slow trickle, peace and quiet flowed into my bloodstream. My breathing became calmer. My heartbeat slowed down.
"Abby
!" a familiar voice gasped and my eyes flew wide open. "Oh my God! Abby!"
Aunt Claire rushed into my bathroom and kneeled down beside me. I was numb. She had seen me. Saw what I'd been trying to hide from the world.
"Abby. Girl. Why. Oh, my God! Why? Why?" She tore a towel from its holder and pressed it onto the wound. It was unnecessary. The blood had already stopped flowing. "Why did you do this? Oh, my God. Abby. Say something!"
Aunt Claire was frantic, but I couldn't find the strength or the interest to say anything back. A thousand questions went through my mind. What would she do now? Would she throw me out of the house for good? Or would she force me to talk to a psychiatrist? Would she tell Beth about it? Or the school?
"l... I think it stopped bleeding," she said, still in shock.
"Why are you here?" I asked after she stood up and rummaged through the medicine cabinet.
"I heard you scream. You must have had a nightmare. I couldn't find the light switch at first. That's why it took so long." She looked down at me from tear-stained eyes. "Why did you do it, Abby?"
I shrugged.
"Panic attack after the dream," I murmured.
"Oh, Abby. It was only a dream," she said, kneeling before me again and putting my face between her hands. "Everything's okay."
I nodded, and she let go of me, taking a deep breath.
She lifted my shirt and studied my skin. This was the first time I had cut my stomach. There were no other scars.
"Have you done this before?" she asked, looking at me with searching eyes.
I shook my head. I hoped she wouldn't get the idea to check my arms or legs. If she thought this was the first time, she might not do anything else.