Chapter 10: The Boogeyman Strikes Again

Caleb gripped the wheel with sweaty palms. His head ached, and unfortunately it wasn't from a hangover. After his talk with Charlene the other day, he had wanted to do nothing but drink his conscious thoughts away. Yeah, okay, he had an alcohol problem. He figured that out years ago. But what was he supposed to do? His anxiety levels were constantly through the roof. Being a college student gave him the excuse to act any kind of way he wanted. He was just having fun. Taking breaks from studying. Living the young life. But it was a problem.

He could at least acknowledge that.

He needed a drink. Something hard like whisky or a tonic. Something to take the edge off. When he saw that girl… dead and bloody, head caved in on the floor, he had kept his composure. He thought he was going to be okay, like seeing a stupid snuff video being shared on Facebook. You're a little shaken, talk to a few friends about it, check your doors twice before going to bed, and then a few days later you forgot about it like it didn't happen. But this whole situation had crept on him like the boogeyman does after your parents turn off the lights in your room. They always tell you not to be afraid. Only because they haven't seen it. They never witnessed the monster with long dead fingers and blacked eyes, just staring through the crack in the door. And you shivered and shook under Star Wars covers, each second a whole eternity as you waited for him to make his move.

This is what this was. This was the Boogeyman peeking through his closet, hiding under his bed, waiting at his bedroom door. And he couldn't handle the anxiety that hugged him like a security blanket.

"I just need a drink." His voice broke the silence in the hot car. "Just one drink."

He chanced a glance at the house that bore the driveway his car was parked on. Pink and yellow with white shingles, red tulips lined behind gray stones in front of the house balcony. The Millers' residence always looked spick and span, Ms. Miller being the uppity type. Always wanting things to be at their best, even when the people inside were at their worst.

The front door open, and the sunlight caught on the blonde ponytail that hung out the ajar door. Then it was followed by the youngest Miller daughter, pulling with her a light green duffel bag. Clad in light blue jean shorts and a dark green t-shirt, a gray cap in her hand that represented her favorite soccer team, she locked the door behind her and sauntered to the passenger side of his car.

"What's up," she said, jumping in and throwing her duffel bag to the back. His throat was too dry to respond. She noticed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, dripping with concern.

He coughed. "El," he paused. Not knowing how to say it. "I… I don't like this. I don't like any of this."

She huffed, anger flickered in her brown eyes. "You can't be serious. We aren't wasting 1,300 dollars' worth of tickets!"

"It's not about the frigging match!" But he would've rather have stayed home. Going to a wrestling tournament in San Jose was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. "It's about… the 'you know what…"

Sighing, she cut her gaze from his. He knew it was to hide her guilt, but that only pissed him off. It was their guilt now.

"Caleb… I did it only because I felt like I had to, alright?" She didn't sound like she was trying to convince just him. "You don't need to worry about it anymore."

No, he did need to worry about it. This was their lives she was putting on the line. Why couldn't she understand that he wasn't okay with this? His heart around these people was literally two quick beats from a fatal cardiac arrest.

He needed a drink.

Eleanor pulled out her phone. "Let's get to the Seville house. Alvin said they're about ready."

He sighed, revving up the engine and exiting the driveway.

What had Eleanor done?

What was he going to do..?

Jeanette sighed into her purple satin pillow, wishing for a swift death. Something foreboding in the air foretold it, but it could at least be a nice one. Maybe something where she slipped into an unconscious state. No feelings, and completely unaware.

There were two hard knocks at her bedroom door. Jeanette grunted, hoping whoever it was would leave her at peace. But instead of being respectable, the person opened the door.

"Jeannette," Brittany's voice boomed through her room. God, she thought, not now. "Get up. You've been in here all day."

Jeanette forced herself in the sitting position. "Brittany, I'm not in the mood to do anything, alright?"

"No, my sister will not sulk," she said. "Maybe I should've let you go with Eleanor to that stupid match."

"No." Jeanette had refused when the idea had been brought up. Eleanor, Caleb and Alvin were into that kind of stuff, and she knew they were dragging Theodore along just to get him out of the house. She had adamantly refuse, hating sports and physical violence in all forms, even the fake ones. "That's the last place I want to be. You know that."

"Well you need to do something." Little did Brittany know, Jeanette had something to do, she just didn't know if she could do it.

"I'll be fine Brit," she said quietly. "I'll just read tonight or something."

Brittany exhaled, like a dragon breathing fire. "You sure you don't want to come to Ashley's with Charlene and I?"

Jeanette shook her head. "No, they aren't my friends." They were from Brittany an Charlene's cheer team from high school, people Jeanette never got along with, and didn't want to. "I'll be just fine. I want you to have fun."

The big sister in Brittany was coming out. It was an endearing sight whenever it showed up.

"Ok, Jen, but please, don't sit home and sulk." God knows they'd all done enough of that for a few lifetimes. "Eleanor and Caleb already left and Charlene's going to be here in a few minutes. Call me if you need anything. Got it?"

Jeanette nodded. "Of course." She gave Brittany a hug, which her older sister gladly returned. They didn't always get along, but they were still siblings. That unbreakable bond that not even when the worst of worst reared its ugly head at them.

Brittany hopped off the bed and headed towards the door. "Alright, well enjoy your night. And don't forget to call me over anything!"

Jeanette nodded and waved Brittany off. About twenty minutes later she heard the front door slams and two loud voices exit down the driveway before hearing a car rev up and roar off down the street.

The purple clad Chipette liked solitude. It was something rare when you had siblings, so it was always welcome whenever she got to experience it. Even if it was just to read a novel, practice chest, study or have her thoughts to herself with outside interruptions. It was a long known comfort for her, like warm milk after a nightmare. But your glass of milk always emptied. Novels couldn't keep you from reality forever. Studying got old quick and chest had its endgame. And your thoughts, when left alone too long, became dark and turned on you. They led you into an abyss of your mind, a place it was so hard to get back out of once you became its prisoner. You could sob and scream all you want, but no one was going to hear you. Just your own broken mind registering the pain it felt no one else could or would feel.

This solitude was her prison. For a long time, she thought she deserved this place. She'd been a bad sister, a bad friend, a bad everything. It'd been her fault everything swung out of control. Everyone told her otherwise, but the guilt ate at her soul every damn day for three years.

She knew the truth. She could have stopped it. But she didn't. She let things go because she thought it would all get better on their own. Simon would get better. The situation would die down on its own. But it didn't. It kept getting worse, Simon kept getting worse, and she'd been too weak and ignorant to stop it.

The solitude became the monster in her closet again, the boogeyman she used to think was in her room every night. This never-ending nightmare was just him coming back after years of her evading his attack. She'd thought she'd beat him long ago, but you can't beat the boogeyman if you're still afraid of him. Jeanette was still afraid of him. She was petrified of what he could do, how well he hid, and how vulnerable he made her. She was smart. She shouldn't believe in the boogeyman, not at nineteen years old. But she'd seen one too many times, all too vividly, up close and personal. He was just as real as any other living, breathing thing. He was just so good at being himself, he made her question her own being.

The pain was all too real. More real than anything she'd ever experience. It curled her body into the fetal position on her bed, shivering and sweating profusely on her sheets. The air around her turned in to cinderblocks that crushed her without mercy. An intense sickness came over her, and she tumbled out of the bed and did a wobbly dash for the bathroom. She didn't bother to close the door as she began puking in the toilet. Her head swam from the quickness of her motions, and her stomach lurched, even when its contents had been emptied.

She didn't have any energy left. She pushed herself away, taking her fetal position to the cold linoleum floor.

It's all your fault, Jeanette.

She reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone. She pushed one, the sped dial number only ringing twice before answering.

"Hello, Jeanette… I… uh, I heard he's back."

She just sobbed in reply.

Simon sighed, listening to his brothers through thin walls like he had always done before his… departure. He had wanted to take a nap, but the constant noise back and forth between his siblings getting ready to leave was in the way of his rest.

"Alvin," Theodore whined. He hadn't changed one bit since Simon had left. "I don't want to go."

"For the last time, Theo, you're going!" He heard a clang on his brother's floor. "Now, put in the face paint and Mr. K.O. posters, I'm going to pack some snacks and see if I can find the blow horn I bought the other day."

"I hate this," Theodore mumbled, kicking at something. "And what about Simon?"

There was a pause, and Simon instinctively leaned closer. "What about him?"

"Alvin, seriously! Si is going to be all alone!"

Simon could here Alvin drag something, and drop it closer to the wall. "Hush!" He said in a harsh whisper. "And Si is an adult, he will be fine for a little over 12 hours. No big deal."

"I should stay, just in case." Theodore sounded so adamant, and Simon felt bad for being his youngest brother's biggest worry. He shouldn't have to be anyone's problem, but that's all he seemed he ever was, or would be.

"No, you're going. Simon will be fine. We need to trust him." Simon was surprised at that. He didn't think he'd done anything to warrant their trust, especially not Alvin's.

"I'm worried, Alvin. I really am."

There was silence, then a few footsteps before, "I know, Theo, but don't be. This'll be fun, and Simon will have some time without us breathing down his neck. This will be good… for all of us."

Simon knew by Alvin's voice he really thought he was doing this for him. He glanced at the pill bottle n his night stand. It would be time for another dose in a few hours. The numbness the pills made him feel was disheartening. They were supposed to help him control his anxiety, and the mood swings in his Bipolar disorder. But the only thing they did was turn his brain to mush. He hated being so disconnected from the world.

But now, now for some reason, they'd only seemed to make him feel worse. Like at the mall, the complete blackout that had happened was scary. The police questioned him, and he just had answered with 'I don't know' or 'I don't remember'. And he honesty hadn't. He could barely recall showing up there. He hadn't been in control, and that scared the absolute shit out of him. He didn't think he hurt that girl, but how could he be sure? He was crazy, plain and simple. A whole different side of him could surface without his permission. It hadn't made itself known in over two years after starting therapy, but it was there, being suppressed best it could. But could that side of him stay there forever? It was part of himself after all. That monster was him, and maybe he was just pretending it wasn't him.

He didn't want to take the pills. He didn't want to be disconnected, he didn't want to lose himself, and give the monster the chance to slip. It might've already happened.

But Alvin's trust in him made everything a little harder. He didn't want to lose his brother's trust, not again. He believed him, Alvin didn't think Simon was a monster, even if Simon knew that part of that wasn't true. But he couldn't face losing it all over again. He couldn't let them all down again. That scared him more than anything else, even the boogeyman that lurked in his head, waiting for its chance at escape.

Simon grabbed the pills off the nightstand.

"You'll be the death of me."

Jeanette sighed. The sun had set, and her feet carried her without protest on the sidewalk covered in shadows. The Boogeyman was lurking, this was his setting, his home. And he was watching. He knew all her dirty little secrets.

Every single one.

She done a lot of talking today. She spilt a lot of feelings, admitted every single lie, and done the best she could do to keep it all together. But Brittany would be proud to know she didn't sulk the whole day.

Now, walking back home, Jeanette had to decide what she would with this new information. After her hour long phone conversation earlier that afternoon, Jeanette had come to some hard realizations, and made some hard decisions at that.

She needed to tell everyone the truth. Then, the Boogeyman would release her from his death, cold grip. She had been so afraid to face the truth, but she couldn't let it control her anymore.

After the phone conversation, she knew who she needed to talk to. He hadn't been okay with it, but said he respected her decision. That might not be true, but at least she'd had the guts to tell him the truth, and maybe he would tell the truth, sometime down the line. Maybe it would set them all free.

But the calm before the storm she'd thought she would have tonight while the others were gone was not in her future. Outside her house was a group of reporters. A woman with short brown hair wearing a brown leather skirt and a black dress shirt saw Jeanette and sauntered up to her with a microphone in hand and three cameramen in tow.

"Hello, Jeanette Miller I resume?" She stuck the microphone right at her. "I'm Cynthia Rumin. News reporter for News 4, tell me, s. Miller, what kind of person is Simon? How do you and our sisters feel about having him around after all these years?"

Jeanette's jaw dropped. "How… H-How do you know about all of this?" None of this had been in the public. Not then, and certainly not now. This couldn't be real.

"Sorry, Jeanette, my sources are confidential." She smiled darkly. "I can't find anything about it. Just a short news article detailing a confrontation in the woods not far from here…"

Her implications were sickening, and the Boogeyman's grip only tightened around her. She shivered as cold sweat ran down her skin and cameras stared holes into her body.

"Stop, just stop and stay away from my house!" The outburst wasn't supposed to be so loud and vicious, but the reporter and her crew jumped back and Jeanette burst into her house, locking the door behind her.

Rumin huffed angrily. The first cameraman looked doubtfully at her. "Maybe this isn't a story, Cyn."

She glared at him, the street light making her look almost demonic. "Oh, yes it is. This is the biggest story of the century! Former child pop stars with dark secrets, all in on a murder? One of them just got out of the mental institution for a crime so bad no one will speak of it? This is news gold!" Her excitement reached the ends of the earth. This was her just to break it big. She'd be the most famous news reporter under the goddamn sun.

"This feels like a bad idea…" He continued, finally shutting off his camera which had been pointed towards the house. "Maybe we should leave well enough alone."

She pushed him out of her way, heading back towards the news van. "You can go, but I'm getting my story."

And she would, because Cynthia Rumin was one of the best, most motivated reporters out there. And she always got the scoop, and she'd get it on the Sevilles and Millers, even if it killed her.

Hell, it just might.

Ohh, Rumin don't know how to mind her own business huh? And geez, just Jeanette have a crap ton of explaining to do, doesn't she? So does Eleanor if you ask me...

More of the truth behind what happened revealed in the next chapter...

Or two or three...

Hee hee, I'm evil...

~Fruity