A/N: I originally posted this one-shot a few months ago with a different title but have recently re-edited it, so decided to repost. Thank you for reading - any feedback would be much appreciated.
SECRETS AND LIES.
I was always thought it was odd how people say your life flashes before your eyes, when you're about to die.
People like our Grandma, with her stories and proverbs and old wives' tales.
Only as my face slams into the wall and I feel the warmth of my blood as it trickles down my cheek, it suddenly feels like maybe she was right. Wonder if it was like this for Laura, too.
As he laughs and pulls me back towards him, I get a sudden image of us there.
Me and Laura sat on the worn leather sofa in Grandma's sitting room. I'm about eight and she's a little younger but already a natural leader even back then.
My cousin, the perfect girl who everyone loved. Only it turns out being Laura wasn't all that I imagined it to be after all.
I'm focusing on running my fingers over the cracks in the arm of the couch, tracing the patterns on the crochet throw, or counting the figurines of children and animals crammed on the overcrowded mantle, all Grandma's treasured collections that we'd had to spend the morning dusting before she would let us out to play in the woods behind her house. I try pretty much anything I can think of so as not to meet Laura's eye, although I don't need to see her to know what she's doing. Rolling her eyes and doing a silent impression of Grandma as she tells us yet another long winded story about visions and spirits and how all the women in our family are blessed with this gift. But maybe if I don't look at my cousin I can just about stop myself from laughing out loud, hope that I can suppress the giggles I can feel building and bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
And then I'm jolted back to the present day as laughter does fill the room, drowning out the scraping of the needle against the vinyl, the record still spinning even though the music has long stopped. But it ain't Laura laughing today. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Instead Uncle Leland pulls me close and spins me around, and when he speaks it's not to me, it's to repeat her name, over and over and over.
As he whirls me around another time I cast my gaze frantically around the room, desperate for some way to escape. Until I catch sight of his reflection in the mirror and freeze, unable to breath.
Dread washes over me.
The acrid scent of burning oil that had first drawn me back to the room, still so strong in the air.
Bloodstains on the pale carpet.
It's not my uncle staring back at me, it's the face of that man, his eyes wild, lank greasy hair framing his face. The terrifying smile.
Because I know the truth now, finally understand what these things I've seen really mean. They were never just dreams; they weren't even nightmares, the product of an overactive mind. Too late now I understand they were visions, more of a family curse than a blessing. Visions of who killed Laura. The same man who's going to kill me, right here in this room.
No one is coming to help me.
My bags are packed and sitting in the hall. Should have just left this morning, when I had the chance. I could have just spent the day in the Double R saying one last farewell to Laura's friends; even waiting alone at the bus station instead of overstaying my welcome here. And now it's too late.
I'm not strong enough to stop him, to fight him off.
No one will hear me if I scream or shout; nobody will run in and stop him. Not the neighbours, or the police, because nobody realises it's him.
Not even Aunt Sarah, unconscious on the floor, knows the truth. I wonder dimly if he did that to her, if she'll be alright. Or maybe it's too late for her as well. But I don't suppose that matters, her world was destroyed the night Laura died. All I'm certain of is that my fate is already decided.
That I've got no hope - because the visions always come true in the end.
Just like I understand now why Laura became so distant, she must have known she had no chance of escaping either.
It's a little after two, the sun is beating down on my head but there's no way I'm going in. Not when Laura arrives today for our vacation time together. Another summer of sharing stories of school and boys, pretending we're long lost sisters and sometimes even trying to pass ourselves off as twins - even though the whole of the neighbourhood here in Missoula knows I'm an only child and I don't really believe her when she says we look anything alike; just laughing with someone who understands me completely. The week I've been looking forward to all summer long.
Run down the steps as I see the car pull onto the street, park up on our driveway. Throw my arms around her in a bear hug her as she steps out.
Only she seems different, barely even smiles at me and I step back, deflated and confused.
"What's wrong?" I mumble, "aren't you pleased to be here? To see me?" Have to ask the questions even though I can't help but hate myself for being so needy of her attentions, for being just like everyone else.
For a second or two she just stares at me, before she forces a smile onto her beautiful face, "Course I am, stupid. Come on, let's go. I've got so much to tell you." And she grabs my hand and pulls me into the house, up the stairs to my room escaping the watchful eyes of my mom and Aunt Sarah.
Only as she sits there telling me all her news and funny stories about life back in Twin Peaks and how she's pretty sure Bobby Briggs is going to ask her on a date real soon, I don't miss the fact that her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes - even if I'm too scared to ask her what's wrong, what's really bothering her. Just like I pretend not to notice the distance growing between us as the summer progresses, how forced our friendship becomes. Maybe we are more different than I thought after all.
I should have asked her more questions, pressed her for the truth instead of believing her lies. I could have helped her, protected her, maybe even saved her. But after that summer four years ago I never got the chance, each of us secretly pleased, I guess, to avoid another awkward family vacation. Excuses of school work, summer jobs and boyfriends spilling easily from her lips over the telephone until even our calls were practically non-existent too.
And then I see her photo, hair all pinned up, make up flawless, the home-coming queen smiling at me from the mantelpiece. Maybe we'll be together again sometime soon, be friends and talk just like we used to be. No more secrets, no more lies. And while that thought should be comforting, all I can feel right now is the terror rushing through me, the fear, the pain.
I can hear the ceiling fan, whirring away out in the hallway; close my eyes and try to focus on that.
Not the rasping sound of his breathing.
Not his voice as he calls out Laura's name yet again.
Try to picture the regular, soothing, spinning of the blades as it moves the hot air around the stairwell while I just pray for this to be over.
Throughout our whole lives Laura was everything I wasn't. No one could miss how easily people loved her. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she was so confident, likeable, could charm people in an instant so they were desperate to please her, would do anything to be her friend. Because on the surface she seemed perfect, flawless.
My whole life I always wanted to be more like Laura - until now.
Because as he grabs me by the hair and smashes my head against the picture frame and the darkness descends I would do most anything to be anyone else, to be some other place far away from here. I should never have come back to Twin Peaks.
Because now I know that yet another of Grandma's old sayings is true. You really should be careful what you wish for…