i think this is the first fic i've written were i've actually had an ending in mind and knew what was going to happen...its kind of weird, lol. i got this idea when my cousin got married last weekend. i'm pretty sure i'm going to keep going, but you tell me. enjoy!
Chapter One: Staplegunned
She wasn't really sure if she was supposed to be in here--this quiet, deserted, empty place; but she reasoned that since it was all those things, it would be ok. She stepped forward, over old piles of dust and long-left rusty chairs, things that told a history of squeaky clean floors and bright lights; neither of which remained. Grimy windows let in streaks of moonlight and she avoided them, feeling as if they would light something other than her skin, something she was trying to avoid. She didn't understand the feeling but she was so...quiet, at the moment, that she accepted it. There was a stage at the end of the long wooden floor and the left side had rotted away, collapsed upon itself. She aimed that way. She was moving on auto-pilot, because her brain was racing so fast that she wouldn't have remembered to breathe had she been in control of her body.
A stained white terrace wavered on the stage, faded fake leaves littered around it. Spencer sighed, looking up at it, and crossed her arms. She was starting to focus again. Some of the wilder thoughts that had fled through her brain were receding and the solid ones, the facts, were taking their place, a thousand times worse. She looked down to the ground, shifting on her feet. The crazy thing was, she was expecting tears; but they didn't come. She wanted them to. She didn't know which threw her more.
Spencer glanced up again and couldn't look at the stage anymore. Her eyes drifted to the walls and found a single chair standing upright. She walked over, slowly, and sat down. It wasn't until she leaned back against the seat that she realized how weak her legs were. Her arms were still crossed tightly over her chest and she crossed her legs as well. She felt closed into herself. She shut her eyes and tried to push out everything she had just witnessed. She could feel the tears coming and suddenly realized that she didn't really want them to come. She wanted control, she wanted to be able to recognize what was going on around her and the tears burning behind her eyes were breaking her control. Spencer forced her eyes open again, looking around the empy building with hazy sight.
A figure near the door caught her attention. The person was kind of hard to miss since she stood out in the dark and faded place, all light and beauty. Spencer looked away, trying desperately to push away the tears. She didn't want her to see the tears. The figure moved quickly, brushing through the dirt and grim, stepping into piles of dirt that Spencer had carefully avoided and sidestepping broken chairs. But the figure stopped suddenly in front of Spencer, her hands clutching her dress. She lingered in the corner of Spencer's eye. Spencer felt fingers on her chin, tilting her head up. She met dark brown eyes.
Three Weeks Ago
Spencer pinned her hair up, leaning over her sink and trying to get a tiny little strand that refused to stay behind her head. It hung down in front of her face, slightly curly and annoyingly stubborn. Spencer sighed softly. She wasn't one to get frustrated easily, but with her mother yelling at her about being on time and looking "stunning" -her words, not Spencer's- she was getting a little agitated.
"Spencer!" Her mom called from in the hall. "Are you ready? We can't be late!" Spencer met her own eyes in the mirror and crossed them, sticking her tongue out. Something about her mom always brought out the juvenile in her. It didn't matter that she was in her third years of college and had earned more awards in high school than she knew what to do with, her mom just got to her.
"I'm coming!" Spencer called back. She gave one last glance to her reflection, giving up on the golden hair that hung to the side of her face. Besides, if she really looked at it, it looked kind of cute-
"Spencer!" Her mom's voice cut into her thoughts. Spencer rolled her eyes and walked out of the bathroom, grabbing her clutch on the way. She was wearing a light yellow sundress and her hair- most of it- was pinned behind her head. She wasn't wearing much makeup, mainly because she looked kind of freakish when she wore any dramatic makeup with her fair-skinned, light-haired complexion. Her mom was standing at the end of the hall and she gave her a once-over when Spencer walked out of her bedroom. She sent a curt nod Spencer's way and headed out the door.
They were going to Paula's co-worker's daughter's bridal shower. Apparently, the co-worker, Christine, talked non-stop about her gorgeous, brilliant, wonderful daughter. Spencer was pretty sure that this was probably in return to Paul's non-stop talk about her, but Paula had taken offense to it. Christine's daughter visited every week at work and Paula had asked Spencer to do the same, merely to show Christine up. Spencer hadn't showed. And supposedly Christine and Paula were friends. Spencer didn't really see it. Anyway, Christine had asked Paula to bring Spencer to the shower, and Paula had forced Spencer, and here she was, slipping into the seat next to Paula and getting ready to drive off to a few hours of complete boredom.
She slouched a little in her seat and looked out the window. Paula glanced over at her. Spencer didn't so much see her, as know her. She sat back up before Paula had a chance to start a rant about her posture. Honestly, who cared? Her fingers absentmindedly traced the leather creases on the door.
"So, how's school lately?" Paula asked. Spencer had to repress a sigh.
Twenty minutes later they were cruising through a neighborhood of masion-like houses and gardens bursting with color. The Carlins weren't poor by any definition, but this was just plan wealthy. Paula's eyes were permanately wide, but she had stopped her comments about how she hadn't known Christine was this "endowed". They finally pulled up next to an especially large house and Paula cut the ignition. Spencer looked up at the towering house, all clear windows and red brick. Ivy crept up the sides and white shutters framed the windows. Warm sunlight streamed down around everything, almost as if the beauty of the neighborhood-as artifical as it was- made the sun shine a little stronger.
Paula got out first, without a word, and closed the door behind her. Spencer was quick to follow, slightly amused at how speechless her mother was. She reached up to tuck the strand of hair behind her ear, but forced her hand down. It only looked worse when she did that. They stopped in front of the door and Paula rang the door bell. She was straining with the present she held and she had shifted it in her arms to push the doorbell. It started to slide from her grip and Spencer quickly caught it. Her mother smiled tightly. She looked a bit stressed.
"Thank you." Paula said. The door opened to reveal an unsmiling older woman, as refined as she was cold. She regarded the Carlin women carefully and then employed a well-practiced smile.
"Welcome to Ashley Davies' bridal shower." She said, her voice clipped and pronounced. Paula offered her an identical smile, just as cold and uninviting.
"You must be Mrs. Banderson." Paula said, offering her hand. Mrs. Banderson took it and then turned to Spencer, who couldn't do anything but smile, her arms filled with the present. The woman regarded her suspiciously.
"Are you a friend of Ashley's?" She asked, pronouncing "Ashley" with just the tiniest hint of disdain. Spencer shook her head, her smile slipping from her face, and Paula cut in.
"No, I'm a co-worker of Christine's and this is my daughter." She supplied. Spencer was starting to wonder if the woman was ever going to let them in.
"Oh." The woman's expression didn't change, nor did her position in front of the door. There was the click-clack of heels behind her and a younger woman appeared at the door. She looked like the exact opposite of Mrs. Banderson. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, and she wore a genuine smile that only widened when she saw the Carlins.
"Paula!" She exclaimed and opened her arms. She embraced Paula and pulled back, still smiling, to look at Spencer. "And you must be Spencer. I'm Christine. Your mom has told me so much about you." She leaned forward and hugged Spencer as well, present and all. "I can't wait for you to meet Ash." She waved her hands toward the door. "Come in, come in." They stepped past Mrs. Banderson, who was still by the door, still giving them suspicious glances. They had made it to the living room doorway when Christine realized the older lady wasn't behind them.
"Millicent? Are you coming?" The older woman shook her head firmly.
"I will wait here for the guests." Christine seemed a bit uncomfortable around "Millicent" and she only nodded, her smile faltering a bit. They continued through the the hallway and Christine turned to Paula, her smile returning.
"Sorry about that. Millicent is Paul's grandmother-Paul, Ashley's fiancee-and she's a bit odd." Christine seemed to shrug it off, her cheerful mood returning. "Anyway, we're all in the sunroom." She turned her attention to Spencer. "You are just as beautiful as your mother said! I can't wait for you to meet Ashley, you're going to get along so great!" She was still grinning when they walked into the sunroom.
It was filled with expensively dressed women, some older, some Spencer's age, a few teenagers. Now that Spencer thought about it, Chrsitine was dressed just expensively, if not more, but she carried herself in a way that said "look at my smile, not my clothes", so unlike the women that sat before Spencer. Their heads turned toward the newcomers, eyes already filled with disdain. Spencer braced herself. She was used to it, because of her mother's friends and their constant disapproval, but from a room full of strangers it was a little more disconcerting. She scanned the room for friendly faces, found a few, and then caught sight of a bent brunette-haired head. Christine was heading toward the girl and she turned back to Paula and Spencer.
"This is my daughter, Ashley." Her voice was filled with pride and love and Spencer studied the girl that could cause this in her mother. Ashley slowly picked her head up, looking to greet whoever stood in the sunroom. Her eyes met Spencer's, dark brown even from across the room, and Spencer felt her breath catch. After a few moments of awkward eye contac, she offered the brunette a shy smile. An almost teasing smile appeared on the girl's face and Spencer had to agree with Christine. Yes, this girl was beautiful.