by Azzurra Nox
“I really shouldn’t be here with you,” his voice gave her chills. The kind that made her believe she was a protagonist in a Victorian novel.
“Sometimes it’s okay to break the rules.”
“I’m breaking a major rule.”
She laughed, not understanding what he meant by that, but thinking that perhaps he was referring to having taken her away from Jon.
“We aren’t really dating,” she had told him, “We’re just friends. I think he knows it too.”
“His heart is set on you.”
“How do you know that?”
“There are many things that I know but can’t say,” his hand felt warm against her icy cold palm. Usually people recoiled from her Arctic touch, many times she found herself wearing fingerless cashmere gloves to try to keep warm. She smiled over at him when he squeezed her hand, keeping her close to him. Then he did something that she wouldn’t have expected, at least not so early. His lips crushed upon hers, sharing her breath, tasting him. Kissing him felt intoxicating. Briefly, she was filled with visions of blue skies and a blazing sun, so hot it scalded her senses. She wasn’t quite sure what it all meant or if she was imagining things, but when he broke the kiss, it was like coming down from an instant high. Back to normality.
“Lena..” Jon stirred from his sleep, his voice hoarse. She promptly offered him a glass of water, but he shook his head and attempted to sit up. He looked distressed, his hair fallen over his eyes and he made no effort to push it back.
“Jon, you mustn’t move. It could be dangerous.”
“Please, gimme a break. What’s dangerous is the wench that did this to me.”
“What?” she couldn’t believe her ears. “I don’t understand. Someone did this to you? Your mom told the paramedics that she found you in your room in a pool of blood with your wrists slashed down the center.”
“That’s what it was supposed to look like. She’s cunning like that. But you’ve got to believe me, Lena. I didn’t do this to myself. I’d never do this.”
“Then who was it? Your mom said you were alone…”
“You know very well who it was! That winged creature!”
His words hit her like a steel fist hitting a blow to her head, and for a brief moment she couldn’t breathe, literally knocked out by the confession. She looked at his desperate eyes, cold and searching for some warmth. His hands gripped the sheets like a cornered victim holding unto a bat to fend himself from being mugged.
“You mean…it was after you? Again?”
“Yes!”
“You saw her this time?”
“No, I couldn’t see her, but she spoke to me.”
“I see. But last time she tried to push you, just like she did with me. Why would she slit your wrists?”
“It’s what we talked about the other day. She’s trying to make it look like suicide. This is like in Cut Here where the killer stealthily murders his victims and passes them off as suicide.”
Fear pricked at the back of her neck like a million bees stings and she shuddered. “Are you sure someone else was in the room with you?”
“Lena, she was sitting on my bed! She slit my wrists! I don’t know why she’s after us, but she is. I couldn’t even move to get away from her it was as though my whole body was paralyzed!”
Lena tried to take in all that he was saying, combined with her own experience and recent events. She knew that something terrible was happening at St. Lucy Academy. First, Blake committed suicide without leaving an explanation, the police were unable to find anything to link her to her premature death, then she and Jon noticed the black feathers around the city, and then Hope telling them that she had had spoken to the mysterious girl. Her head throbbed in confusion. This was all too much for her to process. She felt like she was going mad.
“There’s got to be something we can do,” her voice sounded feeble and defeated, as though he and her had no power over what could be done in regards to the mysterious creature. Her fingers idly played with the cross on the end of the rosary around her neck.
“We have to talk to Hope. She’s the only other person we know of who’s spoken to her. And we need to know if Blake saw this creature before she died…perhaps if she started to act odd…her friends would know.”
“Like anyone from that group would talk to me.”
“You have ballet with Bethany. Try to find something out from her. It can’t be too hard.”
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you will rest whilst I bring you your homework,” she sat up fixing his pillow so that he could be more comfortable.
“Wait…”
“What? What is it?”
“On my first day of school I saw Blake in the bathroom just standing in a corner. It was so strange. She was singing some kind of weird lullaby.”
“Definitely not normal.”
“Nope.”
“And you tell me this just now?”
“It was creepy. But I didn’t make much of it. I forgot.”
“I see.”
“But I’ll let you know if I notice anything else that’s amiss from now on.”
He nodded, satisfied with her answer. A brief silence followed before he uttered another word.
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
“Are you….are you seeing Michael?”
“If you’re asking if we’re dating, we’re not.”
“Not yet,” his voice was unable to mask the anger, his inflection not common to his usual accent. She knew that he was angry, and maybe this wasn’t the appropriate time to bring it up, but she had been holding unto the photograph he left behind for a long time and her curiosity was killing her. Her heart beat a little faster when she pulled the photo out from her messenger bag’s side pocket, fearing Jon’s reaction.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Why are there two identical boys in this photograph and on the back it says Jonathan and Robert New York 2003?”
His face turned white and he blinked, looking at her as though she had just thrown a bucket of ice cold water over his head, freezing him to astonishment. Then composing himself he grabbed the photo from her hand in a swift violent movement that it tore at the corner from where she was holding unto it.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s you in the photo, right?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have a twin brother, don’t you?”
“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT! ARE YOU DEAF?!”
“Why? What happened to him? Does he live with your dad?”
Jon’s face was beet red now and his eyes burned into her with a fury that she didn’t recognize. It was so intimidating that she stood up and slowly backed away. He sat up now, pulling the sheet off of him, pulling the IV needle out of his vein as he stood up, and grabbed her by the shoulders in a violent rage, shaking her.
“HE’S GONE. I LOST HIM! HE’S GONE FOREVER! AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT!!”
He probably would’ve continued to shake her if a male nurse hadn’t been passing by and stopped him, grabbing him from behind, and pulling him away from Lena’s tiny frame. Tears streamed down both their faces. Shock and horror were painted all over her features like he had just confessed to a vile murder. Never would she have thought that bringing up the photograph would unleash such unfathomed fury. She was shaking, visibly upset and unable to speak. All she could do was grab her messenger bag and bolt for the door as Jon continued to shout uncontrollably, “I LOST HIM! I LOST MY BROTHER!”
A million thoughts raced through her head, they zig-zagged at the speed of light, unable for her to grasp one conscious thought, as she ran down the fire escape stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Her Doc Martens boomed with her fast descent on the metal stairs. She wiped at her nose, sniffing. Her black eye makeup in ruins. What had really happened to his brother? And what was h
appening to them? And most importantly, who was this creature that plagued them? Was she real or merely a figment of their distorted imaginations? Who could say for sure? So many questions, and yet no answers came to her that felt like plausible truths. The sun greeted her upon her exit. She looked up at the sky that held no trace of clouds as the smog lingered over the city.
Chapter Twenty
The air was particularly chilly early in the morning and Hope wished she had brought along her hoodie. Hikers weren’t in view yet because of the hour, allowing her the luxury of collecting soda cans in tranquility as she walked along the trail of Griffith Park. The black garbage bag she carried was semi full already, bending down to grab another can. If she collected enough, she might just have enough money to buy a small netbook laptop. She had been saving for a few months already and had managed to get two hundred and ten, she was only fifty dollars away from reaching her goal. For her, buying the netbook would mean to have the chance to write and be connected with the world. Trying to lunge around six notebooks had begun to be taxing when one didn’t have a home. She truly hoped that she could get a scholarship for college, as she had done with St. Lucy Academy. Education was her only means of escaping her dire situation. She couldn’t think of a better way to get out of poverty than that. It was difficult to be at a school where everyone was wealthy, but it was in her favor that the school imposed a uniform, allowing everyone to conform, especially when she only had two outfits apart from the uniform she wore on a daily basis. The outfits were hand me downs that the church had received over Christmas, meaning that they were ill fitting and not particularly her style. She wasn’t even sure what her style would be seeing that she never had the possibility to go shopping.
She didn’t mind not having any friends at school. It was less stressful, no one that would question her whereabouts or ask to see her house (that was nonexistent). The only place she had to call home was her grandmother’s baby blue 1967 Cadillac Eldorado. The car wasn’t in driving condition, but the two had been living there for the past fifteen years. Her grandmother always stated that she lost her home to a fire, and only managed to save her from the flames. That she had nothing left because of that except for her car. She never wanted to speak of Hope’s mom, and she was sensible enough not to question the old woman who had raised her. Hope figured that if her mom was interested in getting in contact with her, she would’ve done so many years ago. There were no clues as to who her father was. Because of this, she had grown quite attached to her grandmother whom she affectionately called Gram Ginnie.
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed a young woman walking in the park until she smelled a pungent odor of gardenia. The young woman looked dazed walking in a state of confusion. One thing caught Hope’s eye about the girl, noticing her peculiar clothing. Strictly 1930’s attire. Although she reasoned that many girls wore retro clothes now that Dita Von Teese had made the trend so mainstream. The girl had blonde hair cut in a dated bob. She wore an off white knee length dress with short sleeves that buttoned down in front. Hope tried not to stare for fear that the girl would notice her so she cast her eyes back down on the ground as she continued to walk, dragging the black bag behind her. When she lifted her gaze from the ground once more to steal a secretive glance over at the mysterious girl, she was startled to find her standing relatively close to her. The girl wrung her hands nervously, looking very agitated.
“I’m sorry, are you okay?” she asked in a placid voice that was normal for her timid approach to strangers.
The girl seemed to ignore the question, looking up towards her left. Hope followed her gaze and saw that in the distance the Hollywood sign was visible. She decided to walk towards the girl, slowly so that she wouldn’t be frightened or feel invaded.
“Do you need any help?”
“Have you seen her?”
“Seen who?” Hope inquired not understanding what the girl was asking her.
“The black winged girl.”
“You can’t be serious,” she attempted to shake off her remark, but a deep fear gripped her. She had seen a black winged girl. Last time she saw her she had uttered the premonition that others would be joining her army. She had told her that Blake was with her. She always came late at night, when the fog had settled near the beach.
“How can I stop her?”
The girl quivered at Hope’s question, her hands trembling. She shook her head vigorously, “You can’t stop her! You can’t!”
“There’s got to be a way! You must know it!”
“I don’t. She’s already got me,” she said, her big eyes widened suddenly as she vanished into thin air.
“What….the…hell?” she couldn’t quite figure out what had just happened, how the girl had disappeared right before her eyes. A chill ran though her body, from the top of her spine to the base. She walked around to see if maybe the girl had somehow hidden, but couldn’t find her anywhere in sight. Her eyes shot back to the Hollywood sign that seemed to loom over the city with a sneer. This was the city for hope, for the impossible to come true and yet that sign was like a knife in your back if you weren’t successful. It was difficult to live in a city where success was the only way to value a person. She hated the sign and the false hope it gave to many who came to Hollywood with the dream of making it big. So many dreams for so few people, not everyone is made to be a star. Not everyone is destined to leave their hand prints in cement on Sunset Boulevard. But despite all that, Hope had big dreams. She dared to dream big because she had nothing else to hold on to. The encounter with the mysterious girl left her feeling shaky, and decided that maybe she should chuck the idea of collecting sodas in that area and try by the beach. Suddenly the trees surrounding her felt ominous and threatening, even the grass below her feet, usually yellowish from little rain, now a vibrant green from the recent days of drizzle seemed menacing because the soil felt moist with each step almost like treading through quicksand.
Her thoughts went back to Jake Fischer, and the ominous threat the shadow had whispered to her, You can’t save them. They’re all dead, they just don’t know it yet. Did that put all of them in danger? Even Jake? If she approached him, he would surely laugh her off as being crazy. Especially if she were to say something along the lines of, “Please be careful there’s a strange girl after you and she means trouble!” Insane. She couldn’t approach him with that. Or with anything really, he was the most popular boy at school. The only reason she had the opportunity to speak with him on a few occasions was because his grades in English were plummeting and he needed at least a C to remain on the football team. Sister Grace had asked her if she could tutor him in writing and she couldn’t say no, especially when Jake offered to pay her thirty-five dollars an hour for her service. The money was convenient because she could allow herself small luxuries like shampoo and toothpaste. Things that normal people took for granted in their everyday lives were things that Hope celebrated whenever she was in possession of those items. She almost felt guilty when she went ahead and splurged on a perfume by Bath and Body Works, the scent in question being Sweet Pea. She remembered the first time she wore the scent over to Jake’s house. With her limited choice in clothes, she had opted to go dressed in her school uniform, at least it made her look pretty, better than the red and black sweater she owned that everyone cruelly nick-named “The Freddy Kruger jumper” because of Dior’s witty mania with names.
Hope was busy explaining the pyramid structure of writing, of how you begin with an introductory sentence that captures the reader’s attention, being vague and slowly getting more specific, to end the first paragraph with the paper’s thesis statement, or rather the purpose behind the essay, when Jake interrupted her with the compliment, “You smell good,” and a warm smile. She blushed. She knew she did because she felt her cheeks get warm, and felt embarrassed. Compliments weren’t the norm for her. No one ever paid her one. She had grown accustomed to insults that when he did say that, her initial response was, “Yeah right.”
“No, I’m serious,” he replied in a tone that indicated that he wasn’t bluffing.
“Thanks, I’m not used to flatteries.”
“You’re also very smart. Too smart to let yourself get down by petty folks like Dior Fontaine.”
“You shouldn’t say that, you’re friends with her.”
“You really think I consider her a friend? I’ve got no friends. Everyone at school is only friends with me because I’m a football star, nobody would give a moment’s thought if I were like Connor.”
“You mean the guy that drives to school in a hearse and wears makeup?”
“Yeah, him.”
“But life looks so amazing from the outside. All the girls adore you.”
“Not the right girls,” he said with a suggestive grin, his finger brushing a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear.
She swallowed nervously it wasn’t easy for her to be in this position. Jake was extremely attractive with his golden tan and blonde locks. He was the epitome of the typical Californian surfer boy, great looks and charming, positive attitude. The way he touched her made her dream, but she knew she was crazy to feel this way about him. She was insignificant compared to all the other girls at school, especially when he could have anyone he pleased.
“I think we should get back to your essay,” she reminded him, hoping he’d stop acting so strange towards her, knowing full well that he couldn’t possibly be interested in her as a love interest, he was only humoring her. Even if nothing in him would suggest him to be so cruel to do that, but her guard was always up. She found it difficult for her to trust anyone. She had no good reason to.