She noticed she could see a little. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the refracted light within the building. She saw she was standing in a library. Books and shelving surrounded them in all directions. Tables and chairs, with small desk lamps as well. She could make out color of Ricardo’s flannel shirt. It was mostly dark blue, but had crisscrossed stripes of black and green on it, her cheek still resting upon the soft material. She could see he was wearing black jeans and black high top sneakers.
A strange thought suddenly flittered about her consciousness.
Had Ricardo grown since she had seen him last?
This made her go stiff in the boy’s embrace. She pulled back abruptly, expecting to see the dark, broad features of the boy she had left behind in Arizona and was stunned to find nothing of the sort!
The boy in front of her was at least six inches taller than Ricardo. He was lanky and long limbed. His face much narrower, his hair was dark and short. His eyes matched those of her lost boyfriend, because he was Hispanic in heritage, but still, he looked nothing like Ricardo.
“Who…who are you?” she mumbled, taking a half-step back. Her left hand had somehow remained clasped within his.
He smiled knowingly at her, as if he had known she would ask that question and was being patient, waiting for her to get over her discomfort, her confusion.
“Who are you?” she asked again with a little more force. “Have I met you before?”
He said nothing, but shook his head in the negative.
She thought for a moment, forgotten the fact she still held onto his hand, lost in befuddlement. She let the silence stretch, her mind racing over the possibilities. One actuality stood out more than all the rest.
I feel like I should know him, as if I do already, and yet… I’m sure I’ve never laid eyes upon him before.
He gave her hand a quick shake, prying her from her thoughts. Her eyes peered into his, seeing he was pointing behind her with his chin, toward the door. She turned at once, fear suddenly blossoming.
Both of the doors were open. No, they’ been thrown asunder with incredible force. They were splintered and cracked imbedded into the walls on either side of the threshold. She hadn’t heard a sound.
She saw it, a face of roiling cloud, its eyes glowing red, eyes she’d seen before, months ago, high in the sky, dominating the heavens for a second, before it had vanished.
It was here. It was staring at her, boring into her, with unadulterated malice!
From behind her, he spoke for the first time.
The boy she’d thought was Ricardo, but wasn’t.
“It is time to wake, Marianna.”
Marianna woke, the moment his lips touched the back of the hand, her hand. He still held it in his grasp…
*****
She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom, her mind flying a mile a minute, wondering. Who was this guy that kept her fear at bay?
She knew she should’ve awakened with a start. She should’ve, since her bed sheets were drenched with sweat, the comforter she’d place over hours earlier, was now twisted and crumpled between her bare legs, her nightgown tangled about her waist. It too was damp with her perspiration. Yet, she hadn’t cried out. She hadn’t been scared out of her mind as she had at the beginning of the dream. Somehow, he had helper her, reassured her, brought her under control with a single hug. For her, that was amazing. She was instantly grateful, because something was coming. She could feel it as solidly as the bed she was laying upon, something was about to change.
It.
She lay there, akimbo, not bothering to fix her bed or her nightgown, lost in thought. She pondered over the boy and the ever-deepening sense of dread. The two were a sort of counter-balance between peace and calm, fear and anxiety. Disturbed a mere dream had shaken her so thoroughly, her mind bounced back and forth, like a rubber ball in a tight space, stuck in fugue between the urge to succumb to sleep and the desire to get up and shout with fright. She had seen the horrid, cloudy face of evil before. She recognized it the moment she’d seen it in her dream. She cringed at the thought, because it did not feel like a thing conjured up by an exhausted brain. It felt too foreign and unclean, a separate thought, an outside notion penetrating her subconscious and planting itself there, as if it belonged. It wasn’t of her making. No, this was something else.
It.
The boy, on the other hand, she didn’t know, hadn’t even met and yet there was this nagging sensation in the back of her skull. She should’ve known him, she’d felt secure in his embrace, at home wrapped in his arms, as if it all had been pre-ordained, written…
She didn’t know why. But, there was no denying it. It was more than a little surprising the finality of the thought didn’t really bother her either.
It was written.
Him.
She turned on her side, uncaring that she’d become more tangled in her bedding than before, feeling the cold air beginning to dry the perspiration on her exposed calves and thighs. Whatever, she thought. Her mind was far, far away. It was cleaved in twain between the warring sides in her brain:
It... Him.
It was a long, long time before she slept again.
It.
Him.
~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~
~ 21 ~
A Better Choice
Monday, November 22nd, 7:16 am…
Kimberly knew she’d done the right thing, possibly the only thing left for her to do when it came to her now ex-boyfriend. After his latest descent into the twisted, surreal world of crystal meth, she couldn’t - no, she wouldn’t - allow herself to go down that path with him again. The last time had been too harrowing, too barbaric with an escape far too narrow in her opinion. She wouldn’t endure the verbal abuse, the physical assaults and never again would be risk the violence done to her person as she had those months ago.
Never! He would have to kill me first!
It was for the better, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. Having already showered and dressed, she was now putting on the thick, black make-up she wore like a badge, every day, to the outside world. It dramatically increasing the size of her eyes and eyelashes. She matched them with equally black lipstick, which she knew to be a physical display of her overall mood on most occasions. Today, though, her choice in make-up didn’t. She was putting it on out of habit more than anything else. She liked to look this way. It was familiar to her.
You never know, the day was still young, she thought. With Kimberly, sometimes all it took was crossing paths with some dumb ass cheerleader and her whole day could spiral down – fast.
After Sonny had left her stranded and that psycho Rottweiler had shown up, she had stayed inside the Boy’s gym long enough for the tall basketball playing boy, who’d scared Sonny off, to notice her. He gave her a quizzical look at first. Most likely, because she’d brushed him off earlier. She’d done so politely, but it had still been tantamount to the same type of treatment.
He had played on for a while longer, going through the offensive plays his coach was having them memorize. It was some type of motion offense she could barely follow. At a quarter of an hour, he glanced at her again. His face showed interest more than any other emotion she could sense. Although, his face was a myriad of expression by the time they shared a second look.
The loose locks of his brown hair framed either side his visage, making him appear younger.
She returned his stare making certain he got the point, she was here to see him and not present out of coincidence or happenstance.
He smirked then, returning his attention back to the practice in nick of time. There’d been a rebuke forming on the lips of his coach, who swallowed his words, frowning. The tall teenager played on as if nothing was amiss.
The practice had ended around 4:30 pm, the daylight had visibly waned as she sat there, watching. The fluorescent lights inside the gym provided an ever-growing amount of illumination as time passed. On
ce the coach called on end to the days’ session, the team hit the locker room and the showers.
Still, Kimberly had waited, not wanting to be alone.
He came out about twenty minutes later and made a bee-line to where she sat in the bleachers, an unsure grin appearing and falling from his face with every other step. She could tell it was the effect of conflicting thoughts crossing his mind. They were those troublesome notions, each ending with a different outcome - sometimes good, sometimes not – more bothersome than helpful. He wore his expressions on his sleeve, plain to see. Kimberly had no issue discerning the source of his discomfiture. She knew he was frantically trying to figure out why she was here, in the gym.
He was dressed in the team’s practice sweats, which weren’t the same ones she’d seen him wearing before. His sneakers, on the other hand, were the same, squeaking loudly with every step he took. After seeing him in only a tank top and shorts, she already knew he was strong, but in a long, strung out sort of manner. He had the typical broad shoulders of a basketball player with well-defined muscles on his legs, made all the more impressive, because of his height. Kimberly guessed he stood well over six-foot-four, quite tall indeed for a high school kid. He was light skinned covered with freckles, splotching on his cheeks and as much of the rest of him that she could see. He had light-brown eyes and a long narrow nose, ending somewhat bulbously. It was bright red, having just come out of the shower. His medium-length hair was combed back, out of his face, damp as well, made darker from the moisture.
A few steps from her, he said as casually as he could manage, though it still came out stilted, rehearsed: “So, um, I guess you needed help after all.”
Kimberly looked up at him. He towered over her, though she was sitting on a third step from the bottom. Her face smoothed out, draining of emotion. “I’m not sure I would call it help,” she began, her voice sounding haughty, even to her own ears. Come on, Kim, stop acting like a bitch! “Maybe, it’s more like an insurance policy.”
He’d frowned at her and moved the last of way toward the bleachers. He placed one of his feet atop the lowest bench, resting his arms, at the elbow, across his elevated knee. “What is that supposed to mean,” he’d asked, looking straight into her eyes, not backing down from the cold exterior exuding from her.
She’d sighed heavily, crossing her arms across the textbook in her lap. She didn’t know him well enough to tell him the truth. He might think her crazy if she told him she’d been attacked by a ferocious dog from hell. No, she wouldn’t mention that.
“I guess you don’t do this all that much,” he had concluded, letting some feeling creep back into his face. He wasn’t as intimidating when he let some of his true self shine forth.
“And what exactly am I doing?” demanded Kimberly, her face cold and distant. Ok, ok, I’m sorry! What the hell did you expect? I can’t change in a fucking afternoon!
“Asking for help or an insurance policy, whatever the heck you wanna call it. It all looks the same to me, sounds the same too,” he had replied. He stared into her eyes every time she got the courage to look back at him.
Already, she could feel the embarrassment rushing to her face, the heat of her blush warming her cheeks. “Well, it’s just that…, I’m not sure if my… boyfriend might, you know… come back,” she murmured, but with the acoustics in the gym she knew he’d heard her. Stay away from talking about the dog, Kim, and you’ll be just fine.
“Has he threatened you like that in the past,” the tall boy had inquired, small inflections of concern easing into his voice now. It was obvious he didn’t like boys who hurt girls.
Kimberly had just nodded.
“Has he followed through on those threats?” he voice changed pitch with the import of the words he’d emphasized the moment they left his mouth.
Kimberly glanced up at him, taken aback by the intensity in the other’s eyes. He was concerned for her, and there was the prospect of anger in his gaze. She could tell he would meter it out according to her response, whatever she might’ve said. “A few times,” she choked as her throat constricted of its own free will.
He seemed to spin before her eyes. He abruptly sat down on the bench, where his foot had been resting a heartbeat before. He sighed heavily as well. He looked out across the gym just a few of his teammates came through one of the doors leading from the locker room. They were talking loudly, laughing at something neither of them could make out. They noticed him at once, and Kimberly was suddenly mortified they might think something was going on between her and… and… - she didn’t even know his name!
They lowered their voices, making absent gestures in their direction, which made Kimberly roll her eyes, fearing the inevitable.
“Hey, Shawn, you still gonna meet us at Fatty’s later?” one of them had called, while the two others were talking quietly, their heads leaning together.
Shawn, huh, well at least I know your name now…
“Yeah, but I might be there a little late,” was all the teenager had said. He trailed off into silence, still gazing across the gym.
His friends kept walking, and eventually had left the gym, one of them calling back, “Don’t take too long!” which made the others giggle with glee.
Faggots! was all Kimberly had thought at the time, shaking her head in disgust at their childish implications.
Then, Shawn spoke. “So, I’m guessing you’d like me to walk you home or wherever you are going just in case this obsessive boyfriend of yours comes back and tries something, right?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Kimberly had said, defeated. She was worn out by all of the afternoon’s antics.
“Ok, then, we should at least introduce ourselves, if I am to be your security detail for the next hour or so,” he commented, extending his large hand toward her. “My name is Shawn Moore.”
Kimberly took his hand and shook it, saying, “I’m Kimberly Madison.”
“Nice to meet you, Kimberly.”
“Call me Kim.”
“Ok, then, Kim, where too now,” he had prompted, standing once again. He offered his hand to help her down the bleachers.
She ignored it, stepping down the tops of the benches with ease. “Just walk home with me, ok?”
Jesus Christ, do I have to sound so freakin’ pathetic?!
“Not a problem,” he had replied.
They made their way to the exit and out into the darkening day.
*****
Kimberly had finished with her make-up and was brushing her hair, thinking about Shawn walking her home last Thursday. All the way to her house, nestled at the base of the hill abutting Eagle Rock Elementary School, right smack in the middle of Chickasaw Avenue. Taking the back ways, hoping to avoid Sonny, they’d walked along the tree lines streets, through the quiet residential neighborhood, talking about themselves, her situation, Shawn’s basketball and a slew of other topics. By the time, they’d walked up to the picketed gate of her parents’ house, standing before the narrow concrete pathway leading up to her front door, she felt comfortable with him. She knew for sure she’d made a new friend.
Not sure if he would have the guts to do so, Kimberly had asked for Shawn’s cell phone number. He quickly imputed it into her cell, then waved, smiled, and left. She watched his retreating form shrink in the distance for some time. Twice, he looked back and waved to her. She returned the courtesy, lost in thought, not sure what she was feeling, but whatever it was, it was something she hadn’t felt in long, long time. It made her feel calm. Shawn made her feel safe. She even forgot about the terrible hound and its’ gruesome voice.
A few hours later, Sonny had called. The Caller ID on the LCD of her phone displayed his name and a version of his face from a cleaner, healthier time. She was dreading the inevitable conversation she was going to have to have with him. Yet, she was going to have to make a stand one way or the other, right? Truthfully, when she thought about it analytically, there was no sense in delaying it any longer than way necessary.
Quickly, she’d reached for the phone and tapped the icon on the screen, answering the call.
“What, Sonny?” she said, not bothering to contain her anger.
“Hea, Ba-baby, howz yoo doin’?” he had answered.
At once, she knew he was baked out of his mind. Either this was going to be very easy or very, very hard.
“What do you want? I really have nothing to say to you, after your little act at my school,” she had demanded. Her was tone icy, sharp. It irritated her to have to relive the incident.
“I wa-wanna…,” he had trailed off to laugh as if what he was trying to say was funny. “I wanna make up wit chu, my little ho-hottie.” He finished. He sounded out of breath.
“Are you kidding me!” she yelled into the cell phone. “I told you already, if you ever touched me again like you did before, it would be over between us, Sonny! I fucking told you!” She had wanted to pull her hair out. Or maybe, pull his head through the phone and pull his hair out, she was so mad.
“Yea, yea, ba-ba-by, bu yoo alwis come bak to… to ur liver boy, right?” Even though he was high as the sky, he still managed to say it as a matter of fact. It didn’t matter that he sounded as though he was talking through mush in his mouth.
Kimberly remembered the anger and the frustration she had felt at the time. Those pent up, hurtful feelings she’d bottled up inside, hidden deep from everyone else. This way she could managed to convince herself they weren’t real, they couldn’t have been her own. They came roaring to the surface of her mind and once more, she was transported to that day, that afternoon.
The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves Page 19