Hotaru and Frenchy: Missed you!
Chapter 8: "Perspective"A sense of déjà vu overcame Hallie as she walked in front of the University, a feeling that easily made goose bumps crawl all over her skin. It was still early morning, with the sky pouring down in a blue watermark. Her rose-colored jacket and dark brown pants seemed to stick out of the lifeless haze that surrounded her. She had time to think, time to feel regret and time to feel self-righteous, all at the expense of the health of her son. She heard that they were forming a rally to support her son right in the very street in front of the university. The street was previously an extremely wide one, until the construction of a light rail transit above it cut the street in half, completely revamping the flow of traffic, with each side representing one flow of traffic.
"…This is where it happened." Hallie thought to herself as she read a large banner proclaiming homosexual rights in bright red ink. Although in another plane of thought, it would have touched her how much her son positively affected these people, Hallie was there for different reasons. She knew that something bad might very well happen when he would come out of the closet, but not too soon. Something else was wrong. "…Mockingbird."
Sunlight cascaded down from the heavens, giving off a surreal glow that made everything seem like a mad dream. In a city where everyone tries to fit in, being mad is the only way to get noticed. The mad and the wicked; those who do not succumb to the disease that reaps into the human imagination and then degenerates it swiftly. That cold October, madness once again took helm while the wicked watch and fuel themselves. Some people say that the masses are ignorant sheep that are herded by what people in power do. At times, they are right.
Young Madeline watched the car beside theirs from her backseat window, wondering who was behind the tinted glass. She was always one to wonder, characteristic of children. At seven, she already had a bright future ahead of her, with beautiful blue eyes that could see through what others could not, fiery auburn hair that fell down to her shoulders, and perfect hands that could shuffle through the notes of Mozart to the stroke of Picasso in but minutes.
"Are you alright there, honey?" the woman in the passenger seat, her mother, asked. She was the one whom Madeline earned her red locks from. Both of them were artists. Madeline nodded and smiled, then resumed looking out the window. They were in an old Toyota, while the car beside them was a silver Cadillac. "Want to drive by McDonald's?" she then asked, to which the little lady politely declined. "I can't believe this traffic." The father said as he switched gears the moment the traffic lights flashed the signal to drive full speed; yellow. He was in his thirties, short blonde hair, while his wife was just a year before hitting thirty herself. Like almost everyone else living a healthy lifestyle; their age did not show.
"They're making sure the highway doesn't get blocked up. That's the problem with riding through the small roads." Madeline's mother sighed as she put on a pair of thick, black sunglasses. She then checked the clock on the dashboard panel, it was three in the afternoon.
"Hey, look at that." The husband murmured as they passed a small build up of vehicles that were changing to the left lane. "Maddie, close your eyes." The father suddenly ordered, and the little girl did comply. Over to the right lane shortly parked a truck that had poles horizontally sticking out from its back; it was headed for a construction site, but had to stop for a short fix with the tire. A motorcycle carrying a pair of young lovers were eager to get to where they were going and overtook a massive Ford, only to come face to face with the pole at full speed. Ironically, both their hearts were bored out as the steel pole impaled one through the other. It wasn't a commercialized block, so at least only a few people had to witness the police pulling the corpses out of the poles since they didn't want to waste time with the hacksaw.
"…I saw the exact same thing in the Japanese channel once." Muttered the father as they finally got through the accident site.
"What was that, daddy?" Madeline asked, still closing her eyes.
"…Nothing, sweetheart." The mother quickly responded to her daughter's innocent inquisition.
After some time, the traffic once again got sickeningly thick. "What is this…?" the husband asked himself as he peered out the window. A good number of other cars concealed his view, but he could still make out a bevy of people in a massive vigil, just outside the school gates. "They're holding some prayer rally for that poor kid who got beat up." His wife responded, pointing him move a little more forward to follow the car that slightly inched forward. "He didn't deserve what happened to him." She then added, talking as if she actually knew him.
"…I guess…we can't really be rid of racism here." The husband muttered to himself uncomfortably as he switched in between gears.
"What's happening over there?" suddenly asked the little girl who got a clear glimpse of the people through her window. "Why are there many people?" she then asked.
"…They're praying, honey." The father responded, rubbing the back of his neck.
"For what?" came the consequent reflex. She had her eyes glued on them. There was a young, blonde man on a podium that addressed the crowd. "Something bad happened there. An innocent person got really hurt." The father then responded. His wife turned to look at him, noticing the uncharacteristic strain in his voice. "Anything wrong?" she asked, but her husband did not reply to her question.
"What did that person do? Why did he get hurt?"
"Well, because he was…uh…different." The father answered; not certain of how he could explain such a touchy subject to her curious daughter. "You mean happy?" she then asked, nervous, as if she was in fear of being the same.
"Excuse me?" the father then turned to look outside, noticing the banner proclaiming the rights of gay individuals on the sidewalk a short distance away. Madeline must have spotted it, and used her own definition of the word.
"Uh no, not really."
"Then what is it, daddy?" the little girl asked, a little more impatient.
"Why did we have to drive through here?" the father asked himself as he rummaged his mind for an answer. That was when he noticed Hallie stare at him from a distance, her eyes prodding and inquisitive, but frighteningly merciless at the same time. She uttered something from her lips, but from their distance, it was impossible for the father to hear or decipher.
"Daddy?" the girl asked again, distracting the father from the intimidating image of the woman.
"Maybe we should talk about this when we get home. Your daddy and mommy are very tired." The mother intervened on her husband's behalf. "Thanks." He whispered to her with his lips, before realizing that the cars were once again beginning to move.
"Krista?" It was evening, with the husband calling his wife to join him in the kitchen. The house was spacious, set in a village that was clearly upper-middle class. Madeline, in a red dress, was playing with a doll near the doorway, while her parents were three wide rooms away. "Allen?" she asked as she approached him behind a counter. She has just showered, with her hair barely dried and her body still in a white bathrobe. " I think we should move." He said, softly, but still somewhat abruptly. "Excuse me?" the woman asked him, at first thinking it was a joke, but soon found herself imitating her husband's serious expression. "We live in a perfectly fine neighborhood, the on we've been living in for five years now." "…I know but…" "You don't want Maddie to labeled as one of those military brats, do you?" she then continued. She was always like that, one who piles on question after question to whittle down any argument. That night however, the husband was not easy to back down. "It could be dangerous for her, you, to stay here." He rebutted, something he was not particularly fond of saying, but words that have left his mouth before nonetheless. "If I was afraid of danger, I wouldn't have hopped merrily to Church when a military officer popped the big question." She argued back, her hands on her waist. "And besides, it isn't like we have enough cash for another transfer.""… Five years…and I already have so much bad memories." he thought to himself, particularly about the last job he just pulled. "And besides…" his wife continued, when a sudden blackout cut her from finishing. "Mommy! Mommy!" cried Maddie from the lobby, to which the mother instantly went running off to. It was pure instinct for a mother to protect her child, even if it is merely the absence of light that frightens.
"I'm going to fix the fuse box!" the father announced, taking out a flashlight from one of the kitchen cupboards. He heard an affirmation from his wife, but she was then out of view. He never realized how dark their house was, save for the few beams of moonlight that fell from the windows. When he was a child, he was always afraid of the dark, imagining the strangest creatures lurking from beneath the floorboards and the stairways. Of course, growing up in the real world, one with guns, rapists and racists, soon changed that. There was no point in being scared of ghosts, since they cannot touch you.
"Maddie." The mother kneeled by her daughter, who in turn seemed to be dazed. A light drizzle already began to wash against the windowpanes, and that was where the little girl's eyes were locked. It was mere seconds when the mother trailed her daughter's eye of sight, to find a woman watching them right outside the window.
In the other end of the house, Allen slipped on a green jacket to protect himself from the escalating cold. Flashlight in hand, he turned left, and after a few feet of wet grass, found the house's fuse box. "Jesus…" he nearly dropped the flashlight when he saw the fuse box torn open, circuitry dangling down like dead snakes pounded by a shovel. In an instant, he knew that something was wrong. Obviously, dreadfully wrong. And he has just left the rest of his family defenseless in the darkness. "Maddie! Krista!" he quickly shouted at the top of his lungs, doubling back and rushing straight into the house. Mud splashed against the polished floorboards as he found himself back in the kitchen. Training dictated that he not rush into anything remotely dangerous, organize his thoughts, and go in with a plan. He did none of those things.
He cried the names of his wife and daughter once again, but was only met with a numbing silence. "Krista! Maddie!" he rushed onto the living room, the flashlight his only shield against the darkness. Only their welfare entered his fear-stricken mind, and right now, neither of them were in sight. He was almost afraid of what he would find popping out of the night. "They say that the greatest tragedy for a parent…" suddenly whispered a woman's voice, slithering, almost colder than the night air. "…is to lose a child." She finished.
Allen turned and aimed his light on Hallie, standing like a ghost before the living room set. She was in a black denim jacket and a dress underneath sporting the same color. In the play of darkness and light, her figure was absolutely terrifying, the light flashing against her eyes as if the man was just prey. "…Oh my God…" something else struck the man's senses, other than the woman holding a silencer in her left hand. On the couch behind her were propped Krista and Maddie, holding hands, both with blood trailing down from holes in their foreheads. "She was a beautiful child. Gifted." Hallie muttered as the man stood there in ghostly shock. "And so was mine."
Suddenly, she pulled out a steel poker that she kept behind her with her right hand, and swung it at full force across Allen's temple. He gasped out in pain as he fell to the ground, the flashlight rolling away to beyond his reach. No words could describe the surge of pain he felt inside and out as he weakly rolled onto his back, just in time to see Hallie hold the poker up high, and crash it on his face. Hallie did it over and over, smiling and chuckling to herself as she finished. The rain then stopped.
Author's note: Has Hallie gone MAD?