Shadow Eyes

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Shadow Eyes Page 22

by Dusty Crabtree


  My hand was on the door knob. Another earsplitting scream. This time I could tell it was a louder, much more painful version of a child’s intermittent bawling with intense silence between each gasping wail. I tried to picture my mom as the child, her eyes shut tight and mouth wide open in strange silence, until she recovered her breath and the loud burst broke forth again.

  I twisted the knob and cautiously cracked open the door just enough to peek in. Immediately, my heart sank to the floor as I bitterly recognized the real cause of my mother’s torturous pain. She was lying on the hardwood floor, flat on her stomach and face in front of her bed, her hands clenched into fists on either side. Her tangled hair fell in disarray around her head. On top of her, sat an oppressive, ponderous mass of a shadow, as black as night and as ominous as a wall cloud. What passed for its hands shoved on my mother’s shoulders and head as it leaned in for added force.

  It glanced to its left with a sadistic grin at a second shadow I had failed to notice. It was smaller but somehow exuding even more evil and dominance than the first. As my mother let out one more furious, deafening cry before choking into silence again, the second shadow tilted its head back and opened the dark abyss of its mouth. What came out was the most horrible noise I had ever heard. It sounded like the echoing cackle of a demon drowning in a deep well. As piercing as nails on a chalkboard yet as murky and surreal as a nightmare.

  I had never heard a shadow say anything before or even make a noise. In my astonishment, I failed to realize that I had gradually been opening the door more and more until my entire head was in clear view of my mother’s captors. The second one finally noticed the intrusion. It whipped its head to me in a blurry flash and glared with a look that arrogantly demanded, “What are you going to do about it?”

  My eyes sprung wide open and I shut the door as quickly but quietly as possible. Immediately after the door shut, another scream cut through the thick air like a knife, penetrating through the door, my chest, and into my heart. The idea of leaving my mom with such vile fiends made me sick to my stomach, but I was so helpless and afraid I could hardly breathe, much less come to her rescue. Cowardly, I backed away to my bedroom with my eyes still glued to her door in anxious fear.

  “Nothing,” I whimpered in reply. Absolutely nothing.

  Chapter 20

  “I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE he was so rude to you! Was he really as mean as Kyra said?” Mr. Delaney hadn’t started class yet, so of course, Lexi took the opportunity to unknowingly remind me of the most traumatic experience of my life…well, maybe the second.

  I flashed Kyra a quick glance and saw her eyeing me with a knowing look of apology. Even though she knew I was on the same page with her about keeping whatever happened with Patrick a secret, she still acted torn as though she wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do.

  Nevertheless, I was ready for Lexi’s questioning. Kyra had called me Saturday morning to check on me and prep me with the story she had given Lexi and Nicole to get them to leave. I’d caught Patrick saying crude things about me to a friend at his party. When I had called him on it, he’d snapped back rudely and said I could leave if I didn’t like it.

  Of course, Kyra’s story had only worked with Lexi. In fact, according to Kyra, Nicole was even insolent with her in her defense of Patrick. It wasn’t until a few minutes after Kyra and Lexi left that she was forced to eat her words. Josh came downstairs with a black eye and made her and Tyler leave with him based on a vague account of how he got in a fight with Patrick over the way he was treating me, which somehow luckily fit Kyra’s previous story.

  I smiled weakly at Lexi in an effort to restrain the frenzy of butterflies in my stomach. “Uh, yeah. He was. I don’t know if I’ll be talking to him much from now on.” I squirmed in my seat, swallowed hard, and then jerked my eyes from Lexi to something benign like my desk. I hadn’t yet given a lot of thought to the long-term consequences of Patrick’s actions, but once the words came out of my mouth, their sad reality sank in and weighed on me heavily. I wanted to cry…and then I wanted to slap myself for actually being upset about not talking to the jerk again. What was wrong with me?

  “So I guess that means our long-standing tradition of partying at Patrick’s is over, huh?” She grinned at her exaggeration and waited for me to laugh or at least smile, obviously hoping her joke would cheer me up. It didn’t. Although I did appreciate the attempt.

  “It would appear so.”

  Kyra surveyed Lexi with admiration. “You’re a good friend. You know that?”

  Lexi smiled self-consciously and shook her head.

  “Always has been,” I added, smiling.

  “Well…maybe I am most of the time. Thanks to Kyra, I had to promise not to call you or come over all weekend so you could ‘relax’ or ‘get over what happened’ or something stupid like that.” She giggled as Kyra shoved her shoulder teasingly. Lexi pretended to almost fall out of her chair. I smiled at their playfulness but more at Kyra’s thoughtful protection.

  Although I would never tell Lexi, Kyra had called me several times and came over once on Saturday to try to help calm my anxieties and cheer me up. Her request or, from the sound of it, demand to have Lexi give me privacy over the weekend was no doubt to save me from losing my composure in front of my friend and blowing the cover story.

  Ironically, while Kyra was over, I had to worry about losing my composure in front of her for a completely different reason—the episode with my mother the night before. I had seen my mother in passing that morning as she looked at me just long enough to say goodbye. In the brief moment she was in my view, the remnant of a hazy shadow lingering over her burned in my mind and was all I could focus on. There was no way I could tell Kyra about my intense worry and concern without leaving some major holes in my story. So I simply suffered in silence.

  “Besides, what else am I going to do?” Lexi continued. “You and Kyra are all I’ve got. It’s not like there’s some guy I’m going to ditch you for or anything.” She began to laugh, but it promptly faded as she figured out her joking allusion to Nicole was untimely and painful for all of us. She had witnessed Nicole’s contemptible behavior to Kyra. Like the rest of us, it no doubt reminded her of how much Nicole had transformed in the last several weeks.

  “Did Nicole call you at all the rest of the weekend?” Lexi asked timidly. She tucked her curly red hair behind her ear and nonchalantly fingered the pages of the book on her desk.

  I shrugged halfheartedly and glanced at Kyra. Nicole had called on Saturday for a brief, awkward exchange that seemed more like a conversation with a stranger than a close friend…either because I was hiding something from her or because her values, behaviors, and attitude had seriously changed. I had seen Kyra later that Saturday and told her about it, so she knew there was nothing encouraging to say on the subject.

  “Yeah. She basically just said she was sorry for being rude to Kyra. When she saw Josh’s black eye after you guys left, she knew she’d been wrong, and she felt bad. So…”

  “A black eye? What happened with Josh? Nobody told me he was involved!”

  I quickly realized how in the dark Lexi had been all weekend since she hadn’t talked to anybody after Nicole had refused to budge and she and Kyra had left. I felt awful about how out of loop she was, especially since it was all my fault.

  Lexi strained to keep herself in her seat as she twisted her head back and forth between Kyra and me. She was clearly torn between frustration at not being included in what everyone else already knew (or thought they knew) and eagerness for more details.

  “Maybe I should back up.” I paused to collect my thoughts, going over everything to make sure I didn’t reveal more than I should. “Josh overheard Patrick and me talking…and eventually arguing. So he tried to fight him.” Lexi rolled her eyes at Josh’s assumed overreaction. I ignored it. “Nicole said that after you left with Kyra, Josh came and found them to tell them what…how Patrick had treated me. He told them they’d fought. At tha
t point, Nicole realized her mistake with Kyra, and they left with Josh.”

  Lexi was trying to calm herself down and soak in all the new, both positive and negative news. “Well, that’s good I guess…about Nicole apologizing, I mean. Not them fighting or anything…obviously.”

  I shrugged again. “Not that it’s helped our relationship any. She almost seems more distant from me now. It’s like Patrick was the one last link we had keeping us together.” Lexi frowned as it all sank in. “When I tried to make sure she wouldn’t be going back to Patrick’s anymore, she just said Josh and Tyler had already decided they wouldn’t. Like my opinion really didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t say it, but it was pretty clear this wasn’t going to change anything. They’ll just find somewhere else to hang out without us.”

  Mr. Delaney walked up to the front of the classroom, and I glanced around the room, suddenly aware that the rest of the world had continued to progress as usual. Most of the students, including Lexi and Kyra, had colorful posters on their desks or beside them on the floor. I grimaced and swiftly smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. Ugh! How could I have forgotten!

  “As you might recall,” Mr. Delaney began, “your poster projects about the character that most resembles you are due today.”

  Some of the students lacking posters gasped in remembrance, and a few spoke up indignantly, “That was due today?”

  I slouched further into my seat and wished I would disappear. My crazy weekend had given me enough anxiety. Dealing with school, people, and missing assignments wasn’t helping.

  Mr. Delaney ignored the stray comments. “However, seeing as how it’s a Monday and some of you forgot to bring your posters, I decided to hold off on the presentations until tomorrow.”

  The entire class sighed loudly in relief, even the ones who had their posters.

  “Instead,” he continued, “I want you to work on an outline for your presentation. That way we don’t have to listen to anyone’s disorganized rambling tomorrow.” He smirked and everyone laughed lightheartedly. “If you want to bounce ideas off your neighbors, that’s okay too as long as you’re working.” There were a few quiet cheers.

  I pulled out my notes on Jane Eyre. Hester Pryne honestly would have been a more accurate match for me because I knew what it was like to carry around shame as she did, even though I didn’t have to sport a giant letter on my chest for all to see. I settled for someone safe like Jane Eyre. My claim to her resembling me was that I was into education like her since she was a governess, that I wanted to be independent like she did, and that I occasionally struggled with confidence like she did. The last comparison was a major stretch out of my comfort zone, and I was seriously thinking about changing it when Mr. Delaney approached our solemn little group. None of us had spoken since my pessimistic comment about Nicole.

  I expected him to just casually check on us and move on, but he surprised me by stopping and waiting for us to lift our heads as if he had something to say. Even more bewildering was when he finally did speak, his tone was unlike anything I had ever heard. It felt like satin and tasted like honey. A bizarre visual even flashed through my mind of a bleeding cut on my arm with his voice washing over and healing the wound like a salve.

  “I can tell something’s bothering you…” He gazed straight at me though we all had melancholy looks on our faces. My cheeks flushed a bright crimson. “But I want you to know that you have so many things to be thankful for, like your good friends here, Lexi and Kyra.”

  They both smiled at me—Kyra’s smile a little more relaxed than Lexi’s as Mr. Delaney still made Lexi uncomfortably giddy.

  Mr. Delaney flashed me a playful, teasing grin and added, “And this class…which I know is your favorite!”

  I blushed and sighed at the same time. His well-meaning lecture on being thankful, which could easily have made me feel more guilty and ashamed, actually encouraged me and uplifted my spirit. I felt lighter somehow.

  “So, which character did everyone pick for their poster?” Mr. Delaney asked cheerfully, changing the subject but staying by our desks, allowing me to linger in the comforting feeling I always got from his nearness. His calming words and unique, relaxing scent never failed to calm even my worst anxiety and troubles.

  “I’m doing Clarisse from Fahrenheit 451,” Lexi chirped, winking at both Kyra and me. I had forgotten we’d both told her they were alike. It seemed ages ago…before things with Patrick got complicated.

  “Good choice for you!”

  “Mine is on Jo from Little Women.” Kyra beamed proudly and sat up straight in her chair as though she were literally taking on her role.

  “You two could be related,” Mr. Delaney agreed.

  Kyra nodded slowly in appreciation.

  “And you Iris? I sure hope you picked someone strong and confident like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice or something.”

  Okay, I was definitely going to change my last comparison. “Actually, I’m doing Jane Eyre.”

  “Well, she has her good qualities too. Make sure you mention how virtuous she is, always wanting to do the right thing, because I know you have that in you too. You’re a good person Iris.”

  Every part of my guilt-ridden body flinched at his undeserved compliment like a toddler backing away nervously as the tide brushes at her feet. But his overwhelming, reassuring presence flooded over me like a wave of fresh, clean water and won me over. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drink in the weightless sensation of lack of shame.

  But the moment he walked away, it was back. I slumped in my seat, once again under its arduous weight.

  As first hour came to a close and all throughout second hour I kept hoping and praying Patrick wouldn’t show up to Computer Apps. What was I supposed to say to him? How could I even look at him? Part of me was afraid that if I did look at him, I might find I still had feelings for him. That was the last thing I needed.

  I at least had a game plan. When I entered the room, if I found Patrick in his usual seat, I would simply ask Mrs. Brown to be moved. Since we were so laid-back in that class anyway, I doubted she would mind.

  As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one taking precautions. At thirty seconds to the bell, I finally calmed my nerves enough to drift in and quickly inspect our usual spot together. I found Patrick’s chair empty. The bell rang, so I stumbled to my seat in confusion as I began scanning the room to see if he had already moved or if he was gone completely. For all I knew, he was never coming back. A lump caught in my throat at that last thought, and I scolded myself.

  My self-berating was immediately replaced, though, by shock and horror at the sight of Patrick, or what I assumed was Patrick under the massive, black-as-night shadow hovering over and practically strangling its victim in a chair across the room. He was doubled over as if he either had a massive weight on him or was about to vomit. The stormy shadow was so tightly wrapped around him that it took all my concentration to make out what he was wearing. Dark jeans, black sketchers, that unmistakable black jacket, and messy yet sexy, dirty blond hair. It was definitely Patrick.

  I tried not to stare. After all, what would I do if he turned to look at me? Wave and say hi? But I couldn’t help it. I was still magnetically drawn to him somehow…even from across the room…even after what he had done to me…even after seeing him with an angry, shadowy storm cloud enveloping him. He was bent over, eyes and face downcast to the ground, his hands holding his head and nearly ripping out his hair. Guilt and remorse radiated out his pores with every wavering shake of his body. It all screamed shame and helplessness, and my heart ached for him.

  I didn’t care what he did. Nobody deserved to be oppressed like that.

  The entire class period I was way too distracted to get any decent work done. I kept trying to steal glances at Patrick to see if he had moved or if he had looked my way at all. I wanted to get a glimpse of his face at least so I could maybe read his expression and figure out what was going on inside his mind. Was he real
ly as torn up over what happened as he appeared?

  I typed and clicked away in an effort to at least look like I was doing my work, knowing I would have to redo whatever crap PowerPoint I put together today. I started to wonder when I might be sane enough to do normal, adequate work again. As long as Patrick remained in the class with his new warden, there was no telling.

  The bell startled me back to my senses. I had dealt with enough agony to last a lifetime. Nothing would improve until I talked to him. I needed questions answered. I needed closure. And above all, I needed to prove to myself that Patrick was actually a good guy underneath all his flirtatious, seductive, deceptive, manipulative, and now also shadowy, layers.

  He had managed to dart out of the room before me, but I was almost just as fast. “Patrick,” I shouted across the short distance of the hallway, attempting to make my voice carry over the noisy commotion of passing period.

  His back to me, he slowed to a stop and lowered his head, whether because of his remorse or his heavy, menacing shadow, I wasn’t quite sure. At that point, I was more anxious about confronting his shadow than I was Patrick himself.

  As he gradually turned to me and lifted his head, straining as though it took all his strength and effort, my breath caught in my throat and my heart sank. It was the first time I had seen his face since Friday night, and it was worse than I had imagined. His face and entire body were racked with the tortured expression of a man burdened with the guilt of killing his friend in a wreck he caused, lifting up a heavy car with his back, and suffering from the physical pain of a heart attack…all at the same time.

  For a moment I was speechless. Anything I had prepped myself to say or ask dissolved in my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to rush to him, hold him in my arms, and tell him everything would be all right. But it wasn’t all right. And there was no way I was going anywhere near that frightening, dark mass.

 

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