Here's Chapter 11 ½. This takes place over the course of the morning of Chapter 11 throughout most of Chapter 12.THIS IS FROM JANET'S POINT OF VIEW. Just clearing that up right now. It's pretty much an idea I had that I'd just stick in my fiction here as a filler. So enjoy the filler fluff! PS: I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed this story, especially Magenta-and-Riff. (Everyone else is still fantastically amazing though :P)
"I don't think this is the right way," I squeaked. "I think last time you took a right at Burrow Street."
"Janet, trust me, I know what I'm doing," Brad snapped.
"Maybe we should stop for directions."
"Damn it, Janet! First off, we can't get directions to a castle that no one else knows about; second, I don't need directions."
"Oh, Brad," I sighed. He was tense, I could see that. I brought my knees to my chin. This was easier without the seatbelt; we never wore them anyway. I hated seeing him like this. I hated being like this. My only daughter is away at that castle of freaks. God knows what could be happening to her right now!
I remember the whole experience like it was yesterday. Brad had been trying to forget about it. It's not good to forget the past, if so, history repeats itself. I should know. I teach World History I to high school students.
I kept thinking about poor Kyara and the situation she was in. Weren't they all dead? Except for, of course, that maid woman and her brother. They were back at Transvestite or wherever they said they had come from. It bothered me endlessly to know that instead of going to her friend's house, she had accidentally stayed at Frankenstein's Place. I looked up at Brad.
He had changed a lot since we were first engaged; more outwardly than inwardly, however. He was still the loveable geek from back then. After that night, as we so delicately referred to it, he became a bit more serious. I missed the old Brad sometimes. But he isn't always like that. Only when I brought up that night.
I looked back in front of us, at the Denton rush hour traffic. Suddenly, my eyes started to glaze over and I started sobbing. I don't know why. Maybe it was the thought of Kyara, or the remembrance of that night. Maybe it was the thought of how temperamental Brad was right now. He looked over at me through his thick, turtle-shell glasses.
"Damn…" he muttered. "Janet," He put his hand on my back comfortingly. "It'll be OK." He looked back at the road. We had moved all of three inches in the last twenty minutes. "If we ever get out of this damned traffic."
It seemed as though damn had become his favorite word. I hated when people swore, altogether. I made sure that our kids didn't swear. I wished he wouldn't.
The car inched forward. At least the sun had come out. That was better than the pouring rain last night. Brad took a left turn onto Nordstrom Street. This definitely wasn't the right way.
"Brad? This isn't the right way." I peeped, sniffling.
"Janet, trust, me, I know what I'm doing."
He probably didn't. Brad had always had the memory of a goldfish.
"Okay," I sighed. At this rate we'd never get there. At least the traffic had cleared up on this road. That was good.
We drove on for another twenty minutes or so and ended up back on Main Street stuck in the traffic again.
"Brad!" I urged. "We obviously aren't going the right way."
"I tell you that we are!"
"We've been here before!"
"I know!"
"Brad," I sighed. This was pointless. At this rate we wouldn't be getting there tonight. And who knows what would be happening then?
