RED FLAG
"Red flags are moments of hesitation that determine our destination."
― Mandy Hale
Sleep did not come much that night. Hours passed before Whitley could quiet the unwanted thoughts streaming steadfast in her mind. Hours spent staring into space and curled up into a ball, scared of the world outside her door. When she'd finally fallen asleep she woke up a short while later, grateful her brief slumber hadn't been deep enough for her to dream. Grim, she knew what she needed to do. Think. Regain her hold on the little sanity she had left. She sat up and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, eyes instinctively going to the window, seeking the solace the first appearance of light in the sky would offer, and was disconcerted to see the sun had yet to rise.
Her bare feet touched the white carpet floor as she left her warm haven, preparing herself for the headache she was about to induce. She approached her desk and opened her laptop, typing an inquiry into an search engine. What were the odds of two people having the exact same hallucination? A result named "Folie à deux" stuck out, "a madness shared by two" but this only occurred when the individual's involved lived in close proximity with each other and physically or socially isolated. Whitley didn't live near Clary and hadn't stayed inside long enough for the latter to occur, so it was safe to rule it out as a possibility. Other than that the chances of two people having the same hallucination were nil. What was the common link then, trauma? No, that couldn't be right and Clary didn't appear to be acting differently. Then again Whitley isn't friends with her so she had no way of knowing for certain. She backspaced, this time entering invisible creatures into it. The results that came back didn't give her any aid at all since they consisted of ramblings and conspiracy theories that had her wanting to bang her cranium against the desk in frustration. Nothing was making sense. Why she thought she could get lucid answers from the internet of all places was beyond her. She slammed the notebook top down with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over her face in exasperation then straightened suddenly in comprehension. Clary. She could talk to Clary, perhaps she had the answers Whitley sought. Her optimism was short lived when she realized she had no way to contact the girl and her shoulders slumped in dejection. Her head hit the table with a dull thump, jumbled thoughts causing an overwhelming and irritated feeling to come over her.
Sunlight peeked through the curtains, dims rays akin to a beacon in the dark. Whitley pulled the drapes further apart to let more of the pinkish glow in, troubled gaze taking in the fresh coat of snow blanketing the city and the thick white frost making the world seem brighter than it was. Her eyes followed one of the wan shafts of light shooting through the pane and landed on the book with her music in it. She looked at the tens of pages filled with hastily scrawled musical notations of her compositions. Proud to see there were only a few blank sheets left. Tears welled in her eyes when she came upon the hymn that she'd written for her mother's funeral and she touched the tear stained paper reverently. She stiffened and closed the book quickly with a snap, shoving it and any other reminders of Geneva aside. Now desperate for a diversion Whitley grabbed her violin and settled on her covers. After getting lost in the music and loosing track of time, the doorbell rang. Apprehension pricked at her as she lowered the instrument, she wasn't expecting anyone. When it rang again she put the instrument away and lifted her stiff body off the bed. She padded downstairs, heart beating wildly against her ribs as she neared the front door. She swallowed heavily and peered into the peephole, relief spreading through her as she registered Cipriana.
"Open up!" Whitley reached out with trembling hands and unlocked the bolts she'd secured in a frenzy the evening before. Her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as she opened the door, pinching the bridge of her nose in agitation at how paranoid she was acting again. Who did she think it would be? "I come bearing gifts." Cipriana chirped upon entering. She held up DVD's and boxes of pizza.
"What are you doing here?" Whitley hoped she didn't look as forlorn as she felt.
"I figured we'd have a girl's day." Cipriana moved past her to living room. "We haven't had one in a while."
Whitley locked the door again and went after her. "With pizza at 11 in the morning?" A typical 'girl's day' consisted of a trip to the Movie Theater or mall and the smell of the Italian dish didn't send her stomach into a tizzy like it normally would; she didn't have much of an appetite these days.
"It's never too early for pizza." Cipriana dropped her haul onto the coffee table sitting neatly between two chairs. "Were trying something different today."
"Why?" Whitley asked leaning against the door frame. The girl simply lifted a shoulder in reply and Whitley suddenly realized why she was here. "You don't have to do this Cip."
Cipriana turned to meet her eyes and Whitley saw the concern for her there. Not surprising considering her erratic behavior last night. It had taken time to convince her friend to go home after she'd calmed down from her freak out. "I know." And that in a nutshell is the kind of person she was. Cipriana Castillo was a rabid manga/anime fan Whitley met when they had to sit next to each other in Chem. Her weird, bubbly personality had been more than welcome to Whitley in her new surroundings. She always knew how to cheer people up and was generous, almost to a fault, with her time and possessions. She'd be a friend for life and Whitley loved her for it.
"I'll go wash up, then I'll join you." The notion of carefree day cheered her up slightly as she walked back upstairs.
"What next?" Cipriana asked as she perused the home movie collection. "Back to the Future?"
Whitley shook her head. They'd spent the last few hours watching light hearted films that helped distract her from the dark and confused contemplation's she had. It was a quarter to eight now and a feeling of trepidation had grown within her, like a series quivering knots in her abdomen. She set down the cup of the ginger ale she'd been drinking in hopes that it would go away but she couldn't shake the presentiment that her entire world was about come crashing down around her. "I don't feel like watching another movie, I was hoping we could talk…" She said hesitantly. She knew Cipriana wouldn't judge her for what was happening to her but she couldn't stop the caution she felt. It's not every day you tell your best friend that you're going insane after all. Although part of her reasoned that telling her about the creatures she was seeing couldn't make things worse.
"Of course." Cipriana assumed her original position on the couch across from her. "What about?" She asked, giving Whitley her complete attention.
Whitley brought her knees to her chest and placed her chin on the blanket that covered them, wrapping her arms around the coarse fabric. Where to start? Maybe that she was seeing a shrink? Or that she's seeing things in general, but in order to do that she'd have to go back through the night it started and that's something she definitely didn't want to do; she did that enough in her nightmares as it is.
Cipriana spoke first, "How about we talk about something else first and then see if you're comfortable enough to say what's on your mind." Whitley nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, I'll start with an easy topic…" She shifted as she racked her brain. "Oh! My parent's agreed to let me have the party." She said jubilantly and Whitley allowed herself to share some of her excitement; the girl had wanted a cosplay party for a long time. A pang of sadness struck her without warning. Her birthday was in May, a mere two weeks before graduation and she wouldn't be celebrating the occasion like she'd planned. At this rate she'd most likely be on psych medication. Prescriptions that could make her lose all sense of self. She closed her eyes to banish her gloomy thoughts. Cipriana continued eagerly. "I have no idea who I'll dress up as. No one too girly. Tifa from Final Fantasy VII? God no, that costume is too revealing my parents would kill me. Mayhaps her outfit from Advent Children is a better option, hmm…" She trailed off in thought and turned to Whitley, brows furrowing in concern when the girl said nothing. "You okay Whit?"
Whatever Whitley could've said wouldn't assuage Cipriana's worry. Everyone close to her knew her response to that kind of question was automatic, to say she was fine when she really wasn't. She didn't like adding her problems to someone else's and preferred to deal with her them on her own. "Yeah. I'm just a little... scattered."
Cipriana looked at her sympathetically. "Your allowed to be. Do you want to talk about... you know?" She let the words hang in the air then looked at her cautiously, as if the very mention of her mother's murder would suddenly send her spiraling.
"No." While simply being reminded of that night no longer made her upset, she had a long way to go before she'd be ready to talk about it."What schools have you applied to?" She asked, wanting to talk about something, anything else.
Cipriana stared at her for moment, worry still clear in eyes before going with it. "Because my love for all things animated has no bounds an art college is definitely the plan. So far I've only applied Brooklyn College, Pratt Institute…" Whitley froze, missing the rest of her list. Institute. Before her mother was killed she said something about an Institute. Could it be related to recent events? No, that seemed far-fetched. Her thoughts went to the blond boy from yesterday. Was there another explanation for why Cipriana hadn't seen him? He didn't look like any of the unearthly beings she'd seen. Except for his eyes, if they were real they couldn't possibly belong to a human. No, there was no reason Cipriana shouldn't have seen him, some days Whitley could say the girl's eyesight was sharper than her own. Her fingers traced the strange mark on her hand and she looked down at it in confusion. Where had it come from? At the back of her mind something prodded at her insistently, telling her that she didn't have all the information. What was she missing? Oblivious to the thoughts running rampant through her friend's head Cipriana went on, "…I received early acceptance letters too but I don't want to attend college right away. I'm thinking about taking some time off and working on my manga." Guilt flooded through Whitley as she realized she wasn't paying attention to her friend. Cipriana didn't deserve that. "What about you? Juilliard right?"
Juilliard. Her dream school since she was a little girl. She'd been elated when her parents told her they were moving to New York, hoping she might have a better chance to attend the school and that it'd help her aspiration to be one of the next great composers. Unfortunately for her dreams the Julliard acceptance rate was small and Whitley is realistic which meant, "I also applied to MSM, BCC… " Her mother may not have wanted her too far away from home but at least she'd been willing to let her attend a university. Some people may resent their parents for being overprotective and acting such a way but it hadn't bothered Whitley. She garnered that Geneva had reasons and those reasons kept her safe. It was unquestionably better than having a parent who didn't care or even worse, not having one at all. Her nails dug into her palms as she recalled how frantic Geneva was acting the days before she'd been slain. What had scared her so?
"You shouldn't fret. You have the talent and the drive you're going to get in." Whitley lips curled into a smile at Cipriana's unwavering certainty. That effortless ability to give positive assurance was one of the many things that made her a good friend. Before she could lose her nerve she drew in breath, ready to tell her everything but the shrill ringing of the house phone interrupted her. Getting up, she tossed the coverlet onto the sofa and picked up the cordless phone, answering the call when she recognized Luca's number.
"Hey Whitley, sorry If I'm interrupting anything but have you heard from Cip? She's not answering her phone."
"She's with me."
"Perfect, that'll save me a stop." The sound of clanging hangers reached Whitley's ears and she pictured Luca walking around in her spacious closet, looking through the clothes she owned with a critical eye, trying to create an ensemble she hadn't already worn.
"What do you mean?"
"Jamie's Christmas party is tonight." Whitley's eyes wandered to the invitation that lay inches away from her on the counter, gossamer design nearly lost under some junk mail. Jamie Nguyen was the daughter of a wealthy socialite and one of the most popular people at Berkeley Carroll School, renowned for the huge bashes she hosted. Apparently partying was in her blood. Whitley had been quite surprised when she'd found the invite in the mail as Jamie had never invited her to one before. She'd tutored the girl for a time in Pre-Calculus and despite Jamie being a nice person Whitley wouldn't call her a friend, their personalities differed too much for that label. Luca, who designed a majority of Jamie's clothing was closer to her than she was.
"I thought you and Cip could go with me. We only have six months left together."
Whitley sighed softly at the sadness that had entered her friend's voice. She didn't dare bring up her own fears about life after graduation. "You make it sound like we won't be in the same city anymore Luca and I'm not sure if I want to go, you know how I feel around a lot of people." As an introvert she received most of her pleasure from solitary activities and had a preference for quiet and mental reflection. Too much social interaction at once drained her. Needless to say she wasn't a fan of the New York scene. Whitley had been raised in Wake Forest, a small town just north of Raleigh, North Carolina. Its softer, slower pace suited her more than The Big Apple's ever could. And with all that happened recently the thought of going to party—going anywhere really, seemed irrational. Leaving home last night had clearly been a bad idea. Not to mention that she hadn't attended a gathering of any sort in six years, not since the cherry cake debacle in 2001. To this day she couldn't look at the dark red fruit without feeling a little queasy.
"Andrew may be there." Whitley's mind went to the boy with brown hair and blue eyes, dismayed to find that she didn't experience the flutter in her heart thoughts of him usually brought.
"I doubt it." The boy was more interested in things like quantum mechanics and analytical chemistry, hardly the party animal type.
"Jamie said he was invited so I guess we'll see." The sound of a door closing could be heard in the background and the loud roar of traffic made itself known. At Whitley's silence Luca continued, yelling over the honking horns and pedestrian shouts. "Come on Whit, I guarantee you'll enjoy yourself. If you don't start having a good time in the first hour you can take a cab home early and I'll pay for your fare. Deal?"
That… didn't sound too bad and try as she might she couldn't very well stay inside forever. As long as left as early as possible what was the harm? Studiously ignoring her arbitrary reasoning Whitley said, "Deal."
Fifteen minutes later Luca arrived at the apartment in all her stylish splendor, dressed impeccably in a frilly white gown and black pumps. The three of them headed up to Whitley's room to get ready and Luca unzipped the garment bag strung over her arm. She pulled out a dress and handed it to Whitley, whose reluctance must have shown on her face because Luca gently pushed her into the bathroom and said, "Ah, you promised to try."
Whitley undressed and threw her comfortable garments into a hamper, exchanging the loose clothes for an A-line dress, recognizing it as one of the colorful fashion sketches on the walls of Luca's bedroom. Since the girl took Whitley's measurements a while ago the dress fit perfectly, though she is somewhat thinner and drawn from the lack of sleep. She frowned as she observed herself in the mirror. The dresses she owned were in neutral colors and were—as Luca liked to say—painfully plain. She only wore them at recitals, so small shift in wardrobe was a bit startling. Silly as it was, she felt like she looking at a stranger. Her heart twisted as she fingered the short burgundy sleeves and caught sight of the scar marring her arm. She was someone else now wasn't she? Whitley knew that night had changed her irrevocably, but how much? It couldn't have been a lot if her friends weren't treating her differently, but perhaps they hadn't noticed or were afraid to mention it? Curiously, she leaned forward to examine herself further and see if any of those changes showed. She looked the same of course; the face she'd known her entire life stared back at her. Though her eyes seemed dimmer, disturbed. She hoped that last part was her imagination.
A knock on the door brought her out of her reflective musing and Luca's voice drifted through the wood. "You decent?"
"Yes." Whitley tucked her scarred arm against her side as Luca entered the bathroom with tights and shoes in hand.
Luca smiled as she looked at her. "I knew that dress would look good on you. Here." For a moment as Whitley took what was extended to her she considered telling her that she'd changed her mind but the happiness in the girl's eyes stopped her; Whitley didn't wear her designs often. Realizing how much this meant to her she stepped into the tights and heels, wobbling at the unfamiliar distance between her and the ground as the tall soles added height to her average stature. Luca grabbed her arm when she sensed an impending trip to the floor and steered her back to the bedroom. Cipriana switched places with her and went into the bathroom to change. Whitley sat down on her bed and took her tresses out of their ponytail and started taming the tousled strands into something presentable, using the mirror on her dresser for guidance."Let me." Luca took the comb and ran it through the locks of Whitley's hair. "How's your dad?"
Whitley let the familiar motion soothe her before she answered, "I don't know." Her spine bowed in sadness and she blinked away gathering tears. "He hasn't left his room much since the funeral." She didn't blame him. Her own grief came in waves that threatened to consume her entirely. She was at the mercy of its whims and at times it bit her with such ferocity she feared it would leave her an empty shell. Wallowing in it only made matters worse, she had move on before it pulled her under.
Luca lowered the comb and rubbed Whitley's back to console her but it did little to mollify her bereavement. "He'll heal. So will you." The next few minutes were spent in an easy silence as Luca finished her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders. She took hold of her chin and tilted her face up. "Are you sleeping? You look like hell." Whitley's mouth twitched in amusement. Luca sometimes had a brutal honesty that would've tested most friendships but not theirs. Whitley appreciated it, always knowing where she stood with her.
"As much as I can." It wasn't a lie. She slept as much as her dreams and thoughts would allow, which wasn't much at all. Oddly enough, she didn't feel as tired as she should have. It was if she'd been struck by lightning, but instead of leaving her scorched and sore, it buzzed and flowed through her like a river, an infinite energy in its wake. "I'm fine."
Doubt lined Luca's face but she didn't pry any further. She picked up her purse and dug through it, hand emerging with concealer. "May I?"
Whitley detested cosmetics. Whenever she wore them it felt like she was hiding something underneath all those layers and broadcasting her insecurities to the world. She opened her mouth to decline but her thoughts from moments prior stopped her. Makeup may be an uncomfortable experience for her but it was confidence in a container for others. Perhaps it could be the same thing for her tonight. "Go for it."
Luca's finely sculpted brows lifted in surprise and she uncapped the small jar. As she rubbed it under Whitley's eyes she frowned suddenly, expression becoming troubled.
"What's wrong?"
"I just remembered something. Do you know someone named Clary?" Luca asked, bringing out a small makeup kit.
Fear swept over Whitley like a current. "Yes. Why are you asking did something happen to her?" She inquired in a rapid fire way, unconsciously holding the cover beneath her in a death grip. Common sense telling her that something had, Luca wouldn't have been asking otherwise. Nevertheless she waited with bated breath.
"I'm not sure. I talked to that boy, Simon, at the café this afternoon because he looked distraught and coaxed him into telling me what was wrong. He said something about her running off last night, told him she'd come back and never did. Add on the fact that she's not answering his calls and it's easy to see why he's in such a state. I said I'd ask around and thought I would ask you first since you might have left around the same time she did. I really hope nothing bad happened to her." Whitley quietly agreed, trying not to show the alarm the coursing through her. With skillful flicks of her wrist Luca finished applying the maquillage and retrieved a blazer from Whitley's closest. "This will complete the look." She handed it to the silent girl and moved away to help Cipriana with a problem in her outfit.
Whitley pulled it on and leaned heavily against the bureau, a steady stream of curses leaving her. She'd somehow pushed the strange creatures she was seeing from her mind. Was it possible they weren't hallucinations? If the boy was real then why were she and Clary the only ones who seemed to be able to see him? An illusion couldn't kidnap or kill a person. Now that she thought about it their conversation from the night before looked more like a confrontation. If the boy did in fact exist, then the creatures did as well. If so... she wasn't sure what to do now that her worst fear had been confirmed. The disquiet she felt earlier pulled at her resolutely, urging her to stay home and hide but she wasn't going to curl up and shut down, not again. She also couldn't ignore that someone had gone missing and that may have known who took them. The logical thing, the normal thing would be to call the police but this wasn't an average circumstance and that conversation surely wouldn't go well. She could practically hear the mocking cackle and dial tone in her ear. If anything did happen it'd be the admittance to the mental hospital she feared would come sooner rather than later.
"Ready?" Luca asked, placing a hand on her shoulder she when saw how deep in thought she was. Whitley nodded shakily in response and pocketed some things from her dresser before following her friends outside, paying no heed to the weighted feeling in her chest.