She went upstairs, noting with disdain that empty red paper beer cups and other trash had been strewn all over the place. She just narrowly avoided stepping smack dab in the middle of a disgusting pile of what appeared to be vomit. She wrinkled her nose in revulsion.
Rory knocked on the first closed door she came to. “Go away!” a preoccupied sounding male voice yelled. Rory could hear bedsprings creaking. It was rather obvious what was happening inside. She heard a female giggling. She was pretty sure she recognized that giggle as belonging to Monica…no surprise there.
Rory paused to listen at the second door in the hallway before even knocking, feeling like a bit of a creep. But she’d take eavesdropping over barging in on something she couldn’t un-see any day! She could hear someone vomiting on the other side.
“That must be the bathroom,” Rory whispered aloud to herself. “Or at least I hope it’s the bathroom…”
The door at the end of the hall was closed. Rory walked toward it and then hesitated. If there was another couple fooling around in there, she didn’t even want to know. Part of her wanted to just give up her search for Grace and go back to Carson downstairs, but she’d already come this far…
Rory rapped on the door lightly. “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone in there?”
There was no answer.
She shrugged and turned to walk away. A guy and girl who looked like they were probably her brother’s age half-stumbled upstairs hand-in-hand, both giggling. Before Rory could warn them not to, they barged into the bedroom where the other couple was. Angry shouts ensued.
Rory sighed.
Monica stalked out of the bedroom angrily with a sheet wrapped around her. She paused at the top of the stairs and began shouting something Rory couldn’t quite make out over the loud music from downstairs that was making the entire house vibrate.
Rory didn’t care what Monica was yelling about. She really didn’t feel like involving herself in the drama. Since her path downstairs was blocked, she turned and walked into the room at the end of the hall to wait out the storm.
It turned out to be a bedroom. It was clear from the purple and black décor, the posters on the wall and the teddy bear on the bed that it belonged to a teenage girl. Grace didn’t have any sisters – at least not as far as Rory knew – so she concluded it must be Grace’s bedroom.
“Don’t snoop you creep,” Rory scolded herself as her eyes roamed over the room’s contents curiously. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know a whole lot about Grace but there were few things more telling than a teenaged girl’s sanctuary.
It wasn’t an overly messy room – it was certainly nothing like Rory’s or Sheck’s, who were both admittedly bad at putting things back where they belonged. It wasn’t quite as neat and organized as Rebecca’s room, either. It fell somewhere in the middle.
A bottle of perfume and a bit of makeup sat on a black varnished dresser. The desk was cluttered with clothing, pencils and various odds and ends not dissimilar to what Rory’s own bedroom desk might contain on any given day. Rory noticed a poster on the wall above Grace’s bed with a picture of a band Rory loved. She couldn’t help but notice it was autographed and made a mental note to ask Grace about it sometime.
Rory stepped over to the mirror hanging above Grace’s dresser and ran a hand through her hair. She’d curled it before she’d left the house but she mustn’t have sprayed it enough because as usual, it was doing its own thing again. Rory silently cursed her sister for having naturally curly hair. Rebecca didn’t even appreciate what she had, often throwing her gorgeous locks back in unsightly ponytails or messy buns. It was a travesty!
“Shit,” Rory muttered as her eyes travelled lower.
She’d taken particular care with her appearance as she figured she’d be seeing Carson and wanted to impress him. She’d chosen a pair of formfitting dark wash jeans and a curve-hugging t-shirt with slightly ruffled, feminine-looking sleeves. But now there was a big obnoxious stain over her left boob!
Rory vaguely recalled having to push her way past a crowd of drunken idiots on her way upstairs. One of them had probably spilled punch on her. She couldn’t go back down looking like that – not when Carson was waiting for her!
She and Grace were about the same size, give or take. Would Grace mind if Rory borrowed a hoodie? Normally Rory wouldn’t just help herself to something that belonged to a near-stranger, but she was desperate and she doubted mild mannered Grace would care.
Rory walked over to the closet, her mind made up. She wouldn’t snoop, she vowed as she hesitantly gripped the handle. She’d simply grab the first hoodie she saw and be on her way. She’d make sure to return it to Grace first thing on Monday…
Rory opened the closet door.
For a moment she froze. It was a moment in time she’d never forget, those few short seconds feeling like centuries as an image she’d spend the rest of her life wishing she could forget was permanently burned into her brain.
Then she gasped and stumbled backwards, crashing over something underfoot. Rory’s eyes were wide and filled with horror. Her stomach heaved and she felt her entire body begin to shake. She shook her head, refusing to believe what she saw. Her mind raced at the same time as it went blank, struggling to find some other explanation. It had to be a prank. It just had to.
But even as every fiber of Rory’s being screamed that at her, she knew it wasn’t a prank.
CHAPTER 06
“Are you in there?” Rebecca knocked lightly on Rory’s bedroom door. A moment passed and then, when she received no answer, she poked her head inside.
Rory was lying on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling above her bed. She wore headphones but whether she was even listening to music at all was anyone’s guess. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on the previous day. When Rebecca flipped the lights on, she squinted and sat up, looking irritated.
“What?” Rory demanded gruffly.
“Since you’ve already missed two weeks of school, I went around to all your teachers after school and got your homework,” Rebecca said, setting the papers down on Rory’s already cluttered desk.
“Gee, thanks.”
Rebecca offered an apologetic half-smile. “I can help you with it if you want?”
Rory scowled. “I don’t need my little sister helping me with my homework,” she informed Rebecca rather snottily. Instantly she regretted her snide tone but Rebecca didn’t even flinch, acting like she hadn’t noticed.
Rory knew her sister – and everyone else – had been cutting her a lot of slack lately considering what she’d been through. For that, she was grateful. “I’ll do it later,” she mumbled even though they both knew she probably wouldn’t.
Rebecca tried changing the subject. “Sheck called for you…again. He wants to know if you want to hang out tonight. And a bunch of people at school have been asking about you. I’m never quite sure what to tell them?”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t care,” she muttered, turning over so her back was to her sister. “Tell Sheck I’m…busy,” she added, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Rebecca wasn’t about to be cast aside so easily. She moved so she was standing in front of her sister and then pulled off the headphones just in case Rory actually did have music on. “You can’t stay in here forever,” she informed her sister. “It’s been two weeks, Rory.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She counted down the days, hours and minutes on a regular basis. But it was the seconds that mattered most. It was the seconds that could have counted. If Rory had just gotten there even thirty seconds sooner, there was no telling how things might have turned out.
“Do you think maybe you should talk to someone?” Rebecca tried again. “Dad says you just need time but Mom’s been on the phone with a grief counsellor…she wants to make you an appointment.”
Rory made a face. “What for?” she demanded.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow and tugged at her high ponytail, c
hoosing her words carefully before she answered. “You went through something pretty traumatic,” she pointed out. “Maybe getting some professional help wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
“I don’t know why people keep saying that,” Rory grumbled. “I’m sick of hearing about how I went through something. You should have seen the way people stared at me at the funeral. I could see them whispering and I know it was about me because any time I’d make eye contact they’d go quiet and look away.”
Rebecca pursed her lips and said nothing, giving Rory the chance to say whatever it was she’d been keeping bottled up inside.
“But the bottom line is it’s not about me.” Rory choked out, sounding irritated. “Who cares what I went through? That’s nothing. What about what she went through, huh? What about Grace?”
It was the first time Rory had uttered Grace’s name since her gruesome discovery the night of the party. It felt foreign and strange tumbling off her lips and she immediately wished she hadn’t said it. Hearing the name roll off her tongue brought back a flood of memories she’d much rather forget.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” Rebecca said gently as she sat on the edge of the bed beside her sister. “Grace had issues. No one could have known she had a mental breakdown last year…none of us even knew her then. When she transferred to Belleview partway through the year she didn’t tell anyone it was because she was being harassed at her old school.”
“Mom’s already given me this speech,” Rory said flatly. “More than once…”
“Yeah well Mom was right,” Rebecca insisted. She crossed her arms and firmly informed her sister, “Rory, you didn’t kill her.”
“No,” Rory said lightly, turning around to look at her sister. “Grace killed herself.” Although technically that was the truth, Rory didn’t exactly say it with conviction. It was clear she was still grappling with a whole host of emotions.
“Yeah,” Rebecca agreed sadly. “She did.”
Rory sat up and scowled at her sister. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” she demanded, sounding furious. “Is that what they’re all telling themselves? That it’s somehow all Grace’s fault for being weak minded or something?” She looked like she wanted to hit something. “They pushed her over the edge.”
“Rory…”
“You don’t know!” Rory exclaimed, her voice getting louder. “You weren’t at the party to see it for yourself. I was. I saw…I saw it all. Maybe Grace is the one who tied the noose in her closet but it may as well have been us. We did it. We killed her.”
Rebecca sighed and attempted to change the subject. “So what do you do here all day anyway?” she asked. “Do you sleep or…?”
Scoffing, Rory shook her head. She wished she could sleep but it wasn’t that easy. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Grace’s motionless, lifeless body slumped over in the closet. Grace’s feet were not quite touching the ground and her face was beginning to turn blue.
She’d been stiff. That was the worst part. Even though deep inside Rory had known Grace was already gone, she’d tried to cut her down, hoping against hope that maybe the young woman who was supposed to have so much life ahead of her could still be saved. She’d never forget the way Grace’s body felt in her arms, rigid and stiff. Now she knew the meaning of dead weight.
Rory shuddered at the recollection.
“Where are Mom and Dad, anyway?” Rory asked.
For the past two weeks they’d been hovering. She knew they meant well but it was suffocating. It made Rory feel awkward even in her own house because she knew their watchful gaze was always on her. She hated seeing the worried expressions on their faces. It gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“They’re both at work things they couldn’t get out of. They left us pizza money. I’m just about to order…what kind do you want?”
Rory shrugged. “Whatever.”
It was completely unlike Rory to be indifferent about pizza. Normally she was very, very specific about what topping she wanted: pepperoni and mushroom and absolutely no onions. She definitely wasn’t herself…she hadn’t been ever since that horrible night.
A half hour or so later, the doorbell rang. Rory didn’t bother getting out of bed as she knew her sister would get it. Instead, she burrowed under the covers and put her pillow over her head. But before long, the enticing aroma of hot cheesy pizza was wafting in under her bedroom door.
Begrudgingly, she made her way into the kitchen. It was pizza-less…and sister-less.
“Rebecca?” Rory called. “Where are you?”
“In here!”
Rory followed the sound of her sister’s voice into the living room. She stopped when she saw the couch had been completely disassembled, the cushions propped up in an elaborate design. Blankets were draped over top of them and held in place by a few random pieces of furniture. It was just like the pillow forts she and Rebecca used to build every Friday night back before popularity and social status demanded Rory spend her weekends with fair weather friends who were undeniably cooler than Rebecca.
“What’s all this?” Rory asked, eyeing the pizza box on the coffee table guardedly.
“Pizza just tastes better when you’re eating it in a pillow fort, you know?” Rebecca replied from where she sat cross legged on the floor beneath a blanket canopy.
It was a ridiculous statement but even more absurd, Rory knew exactly what Rebecca meant. Everything was better from the safe confines of a pillow fort. Under there, you were invincible, sheltered and protected from the world. In fact, the world seemed to almost disappear completely and time stood still.
Rory had a feeling that even if she and Rebecca built a pillow fort when they were old ladies, they’d still somehow, magically, feel like they were twelve years old the minute they climbed inside it. It was funny how that worked, but also comforting.
Inside the pillow fort, the only expectations were that you eat junk food, watch bad movies and maybe occasionally thwack your sister in the face with a pillow amidst a fit of giggles.
“Is there room under there for me?”
“Of course there is. I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Rebecca added, “But I’m under strict orders from Mom and Dad to make sure you eat something. So grab a slice, alright?”
Rory rolled her eyes. Then she climbed in and sat next to Rebecca. Begrudgingly, she reached for a slice of pizza and warned, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a slasher movie tonight.”
Bad horror movies were their go-to. Rebecca always covered her eyes during the scary parts and Rory stared at them wide-eyed, entranced. But the last thing Rory felt like doing right now was watching a movie about an axe murderer killing a bunch of college kids or a zombie apocalypse.
“It’s okay,” Rebecca assured her as she took a bite of her pizza, a string of gooey cheese hanging off the side before she pulled it free with her fingers and popped it in her mouth. “I’m sure we can find something else to watch.”
It had been way too long since they’d done this. It was Rory’s fault – she’d scoffed and declared the pillow forts babyish even though she hadn’t really thought that. She’d pulled away. She’d take it all back if she could. Oh God, the things she’d take back if only she could…
Tears pricked at Rory’s eyes as her thoughts inevitably turned to Grace. She wondered if Grace had ever done the pillow fort thing – likely not as the funeral had confirmed Rory’s hunch that Grace had been an only child. Sadness washed over Rory as she realized Grace would never have the chance to do the pillow fort thing ever again.
“Rory…”
Rory sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “What?”
“You have to stop doing this.”
Rebecca didn’t say it in a rude way. In fact, she said it very kindly, with a look of sympathy in her clear green eyes. But it wasn’t that easy. “You’re not upset about Grace, but you weren’t there,” Rory pointed out, her eyes downcast.
�
�I am upset,” Rebecca corrected her. “Not like you are or anything, but…it’s sad, what happened. I feel bad about it. I wish I’d known what Grace was going through. I wish I’d talked to her more. I just assumed she was a snob because…”
“…because she started hanging around with my friends?” Rory guessed.
Rebecca hesitated. “Well...yeah.”
“Grace wasn’t a snob,” Rory informed her sister. “She actually seemed, I don’t know, timid or something. I think she was just kind of…lost, you know? Like, she didn’t quite fit in anywhere – she was still trying to find her place.”
Rebecca nodded. “I know the feeling.”
Rory looked at her sister for a long time before speaking. Then, finally, in a tiny voice she asked, “Do you hate me?”
Rebecca looked genuinely surprised. “Hate you for what?” she asked even though she probably already knew the answer. After all, she was a smart girl, and observant too. There wasn’t much that was lost on her.
“I haven’t exactly been the best sister.”
“Neither have I. But I could never hate you…not seriously.”
The girls watched some stupid sitcom for a while, sitting in their fort and eating their pizza in silence. The cheesy laugh track was comforting, somehow. It let the audience know when to find things funny. It told them how to respond to the dumb, groan-worthy one-liners.
Rory wished life came with a laugh track or background music or an instruction manual or something to dictate how one should feel. That would make this nightmare so much easier to navigate.
Lately Rory didn’t even know how she felt let alone how she was expected to feel. She circled the drain somewhere between anger and regret, caught in the inevitable downward spiral – a deadly whirlpool of emotion. But then a lot of the time she was just numb. Sometimes she just wanted to sit alone in her room and stare at the wall while trying her best to make her mind go blissfully blank. Surely that wasn’t normal?
Catalyst (The Best Days #1) Page 10