Mysterion and Red Handed
Chapter 7
BYOB
Red slams the door behind her and buries her face into the couch cushion. She feels like an absolute idiot; like the spoiled, dramatic teenager brats she's watched on Disney Channel. Kenny hadn't been picking a fight with her. She knows how bad the curse is, how torturing it makes life; she should have just sympathized with him, not snap at him.
But she couldn't have helped it. He had touched a nerve when he started to complain about his parents.
Red calms herself down, lying on the couch. After maybe half an hour, she sits up and readjusts her mask. Like being emotional isn't enough, now she's suddenly craving some sort of comfort.
She goes to the study, knowing what can help.
In the last month, Hannah hadn't been able to unpack anything more than the bare necessities. Since her dad was always away at work, she's had no help with unpacking, nor has she had the time since she and Mysterion had teamed up. With him and school, she hasn't been able to tackle the pile of boxes that the movers had left for her in the study.
Red stands on her toes and pulls down box after box from the pile. They're filled with miscellaneous things: dishes, movies, the missing cable to her printer that she had been looking for; she had to go through several boxes before she could find them.
But she did. After ripping the strip of boxing tape off of the cardboard, she saw her prize: the four scrapbooks, piled on top of each other, crammed together with picture frames and old jewelry.
Red reaches for the first book. It's a large one, with white lace decorating the hard cover. When she opens it, she sees dozens of wedding photos, some with her uncle Alex, or with Grandma, and others with her great aunt Haley or Cousin Jake.
But in each of them, it was the bride that Red was staring at. Wearing an elegant, strapless, white gown, her red hair pinned up with pearls, was Hannah's mom: Eliza. In all of the pictures, Eliza and her new groom – Zach – were smiling and holding hands, hugging each other and their new family.
Red had never seen her dad so happy. She actually can't even remember if she's ever seen him smile.
In the next scrapbook, there are plenty of pictures of Eliza and Zach; of their apartment, of their dates in the park, of their honeymoon to Jamaica; a few had a pet dog that Hannah had never met: a little mutt that was always found sleeping on the sofa, and the rest were all taken of the trees and the mountains in the horizon.
The third wasn't much different, only it had more birthdays and holidays. But it was the fourth scrapbook that Red is most sensitive about.
The pictures are all of her mom, and the swollen belly she was nursing.
Her dad had only told Hannah about her mom's death once, when she was seven. All Hannah knew was that her mom didn't survive childbirth. She didn't know why, and she wasn't sure if it was her fault or the doctors, but looking at these pictures always made her sad. She wished she could jump into them, into the time taken and paused before her, to warn her mom. Maybe then things could be different.
Red sighs and stands up, picking up the four books. She's tired; she's had enough. But as she puts them back, something catches her eye. There's another book, tucked in the corner, half hidden by her mother's home knitted socks.
Curious, Red reaches in and takes it. It's a small thing, no larger than a pocket calendar, but thicker, and with better binding. The cover is a light blue, with flowers painted on it. There's no title, no words on the outside.
Red flips the book open and stares at the cursive written on the pages; hand written entries, all dated, all signed. She gasps. She had forgotten about this little thing years ago. She knew it was a diary – her mom's diary – but hadn't known cursive. It had all looked like a foreign language to her. She hadn't been able to read a word. But now! Now she was in the fifth grade! She learned cursive over a year ago, and could read it, more or less.
Red sat cross legged on the floor, a wave of bitter excitement washing over her. She was reading the first entry before she could even breathe in.
I am now officially a wife! Zach and I are on our way to Jamaica now four our honeymoon. I can't wait until we get there! Our hotel room is right on the beach, and the resort is going to be beautiful!
Red skipped ahead. She didn't need to read how that night turned out. She was old enough to know what a honeymoon meant.
There were plenty of entries about their new apartment, how happy she was, the dog and how much it pissed Zach off. And then:
I came out to Zach today. I told him my little secret. I was so worried what he would think but he turned out to be ok with it. Actually, even better than ok, he wanted to come with me to the next meeting. Honestly I didn't see that coming, but I guess I shouldn't be surprise. Zach was never very religious, but he's always been up for learning about cultures. Converting him to the Necronomicon should be easy.
Red doesn't turn the page for a long time. Necronomicon…Mysterion said something about that…
Red kept reading.
Zach has been really enthusiastic about our new religion. He's actually started to read up the scriptures on his own, and he's even practice the prayers and chants! But the best news is that I was able to convince him that we should have our first child blessed!
Our leader said that if we conceive during a ritual, our child will be born blessed! No one knows what that means of course – none of the babies have survived it yet – but Zach said that we can try it. He wants to be the father of a prophet.
This was what Mysterion had been talking about. He said that their curse had something to do with that cult; now Red had proof of it.
But this meant that her mom had planned for Hannah to be like this…
"They said if I brought you here, they could bring her back."
Red was on her feet instantly, turned towards the study door, trembling just a bit. There stood a man that she could never fully recognize. Zach was as pale as ever, his black hair reseeding past his ears, his eyebrows up and lightened, and bags under his eyes. He still wore his pilot uniform, and there was a suitcase by his feet.
Red was suddenly very aware that she was still in her costume.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
Her dad stumbles into the room, suddenly looking angry. "You're the reason why she's gone! You're the reason why she died! If you hadn't…you killed her!"
He's drunk…
Zach throws his hat on the floor and starts to sob. "You were so sick. They thought you would die, before you were even born. But…you took her life instead. Took it instead of dying."
He turns to her. "Don't you understand? You weren't supposed to be born! You shouldn't have ever been born! But…but…I can make it right again. They said they can do it. If I just…if I just bring you to them."
Kenny McCormick leans into his desk and stares across Stan and Craig, to the empty desk by the window. He takes a deep breath and then turns away, staring at his hands as they rest in his lap.
She skipped school to avoid him. He was sure of it.
He hadn't known about his mom…and he hadn't known about her mom either. She never told him. But it did all make sense now; why he woke up in his room every time, and why she just came back wherever she was. He would have to talk to his mom about things later, ask her why she never said anything about it. But he wasn't in the mood for it now. He needed to set things right with Hannah first.
It was surprisingly easy to leave the school during recess, and from the school he went to Hannah's house a few blocks away. He had never actually been inside before. Always, she would meet him up front, or on the sidewalk, or at their hideout in the woods. But this was different. As he knocked on the door, it slid open with a stereotypical creak. Kenny looked inside, his eyes having to adjust to the change in light.
"Hannah?" he asks in a muffle. Nothing.
"Hannah, you home?" he calls. When no one replies, he steps inside, cautiously. He's seen enough horror movies – and has died by enough monsters – to sense when something was wrong.
The house was dark and near empty; it was obvious that the family had just moved in; with no pictures on the walls, or curtains on the far window, the place looked almost abandoned. The only sign of life he could even count was the sole white paper left on the wooden table by the staircase. Kenny was going to ignore it until he saw the green question mark drawn in pen.
"If you want to see her again, meet us at the hideout, 8 o'clock, and no cops. And BYOB"
Kenny was out the door before the letter could reach the ground.
