The last two sentences of the entry were written in Cherokee. Tori
sighed, putting down the journal and turning back to the sink. She washed
her heavily ringed hands, the water glittering on the silver bands. Shaking
them dry she pushed the book back towards the microwave, hoping the shadows
might hide her mother's last thoughts from view.
She slumped away from her kitchen alcove to her two-roomed apartment. The walls were white washed, but she'd tried to take a can of black paint to them without much blessing from the landlord.
Her three computers, two Mac, one PC sat on the desk made up of three faux wood tables pushed together. Her bed was a mess; the blankets lay in a heap at one side, the results of her last nightmare. The computers buzzed, one's screen lapsed into the black screensaver and the other two hummed on, still awake.
Without much thought, Tori saw everything was in order. She walked to the bathroom, her boots' high heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor. She pulled open the mirror cupboard and grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the pill-lined shelf. She slammed the mirror shut and focused on her face in the mirror.
She was fifteen, but all her heavy make-up and the dark circles under her eyes could pass her for twenty and she was used to looking after herself. Her pale skin reacted with the flickering fluorescent light in the ceiling, turning it milky-ly transparent. She was short, but the boots gave her the height and the edge she needed. One could pass her for pretty on first glance, with her long brown hair and darting large green eyes. A double take revealed her true nature, however.
The red and purple streaks in her un-kempt hair were beginning to fade. The bolt through her eyebrow had been done herself with a paperclip, two staples and a ball pin she'd taken her lighter to one night. The numerous ear-piercings and the less than appropriate clothing ushered small children and the elderly away from her on the street.
Tori heard a thud from the floor above and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd thought everyone, even Ben and Teri –the arguable twenty- something couple from the room above her- would be at Scream tonight. Tori had been kicked out of Scream. The manager had taken a fervent dislike to her after she burnt some guy's tongue with the end of her cigarette after Bug had got her drunk.
Bug had found her a new club, a better one, or so he said, called Sphere. He was going to be there tonight with a few friends and Tori was going with a sour attitude. She ran a hand through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. Dropping her hands to her sides she saw something reflected in the cracked mirror that caught her eye.
The screensaver had switched. A livid green typewriter print had begun to appear across it. Tori narrowed her eyes and whirled out of the bathroom. She sat down, eyes focusing on the words.
Second_Sight: Hello Victoria...
The writing flashed a few moments, and then another stream appeared below it.
Second_Sight: Do you know who this is?
The writing blinked again. Tori reached for the escape key, pressing it hard to no effect. Her other two computers flickered onto the same shot.
Second_Sight: No use trying.
Tori checked the door. The locks didn't work in the building, but she kept her kitchen knives by the doorframe incase of intruders. She looked back at the screen and typed a reply.
Morse: Who is this?
The answer came.
Second_Sight: Does it really matter?
Tori reached for the escape button again.
Second_Sight: Not too bright. I have questions for you and answers to ones you have.
Morse: How do you know my name?
Second_Sight: I know many things about you.
Tori grinned. It all became clear.
Morse: Get out of my computer, Bug.
Second_Sight: This is not whom you suspect. You have a question; I have the answer, but first, answer mine.
Morse: I'm leaving.
Second_Sight: You won't, not till you hear me out. Meet me.
Morse: Who is this?
Second_Sight: Follow the yellow brick road, Victoria. Who knows where it leads?
Suddenly the screen went blank again. Tori pushed back her chair and kicked the trashcan over. An assortment of old cigarette packets and Chinese take out boxes spilled over the floor. She grabbed her fur coat from the bed and stormed out the door. She slammed it behind her, sending a few flakes of dust out of the rafters.
She slumped away from her kitchen alcove to her two-roomed apartment. The walls were white washed, but she'd tried to take a can of black paint to them without much blessing from the landlord.
Her three computers, two Mac, one PC sat on the desk made up of three faux wood tables pushed together. Her bed was a mess; the blankets lay in a heap at one side, the results of her last nightmare. The computers buzzed, one's screen lapsed into the black screensaver and the other two hummed on, still awake.
Without much thought, Tori saw everything was in order. She walked to the bathroom, her boots' high heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor. She pulled open the mirror cupboard and grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the pill-lined shelf. She slammed the mirror shut and focused on her face in the mirror.
She was fifteen, but all her heavy make-up and the dark circles under her eyes could pass her for twenty and she was used to looking after herself. Her pale skin reacted with the flickering fluorescent light in the ceiling, turning it milky-ly transparent. She was short, but the boots gave her the height and the edge she needed. One could pass her for pretty on first glance, with her long brown hair and darting large green eyes. A double take revealed her true nature, however.
The red and purple streaks in her un-kempt hair were beginning to fade. The bolt through her eyebrow had been done herself with a paperclip, two staples and a ball pin she'd taken her lighter to one night. The numerous ear-piercings and the less than appropriate clothing ushered small children and the elderly away from her on the street.
Tori heard a thud from the floor above and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd thought everyone, even Ben and Teri –the arguable twenty- something couple from the room above her- would be at Scream tonight. Tori had been kicked out of Scream. The manager had taken a fervent dislike to her after she burnt some guy's tongue with the end of her cigarette after Bug had got her drunk.
Bug had found her a new club, a better one, or so he said, called Sphere. He was going to be there tonight with a few friends and Tori was going with a sour attitude. She ran a hand through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. Dropping her hands to her sides she saw something reflected in the cracked mirror that caught her eye.
The screensaver had switched. A livid green typewriter print had begun to appear across it. Tori narrowed her eyes and whirled out of the bathroom. She sat down, eyes focusing on the words.
Second_Sight: Hello Victoria...
The writing flashed a few moments, and then another stream appeared below it.
Second_Sight: Do you know who this is?
The writing blinked again. Tori reached for the escape key, pressing it hard to no effect. Her other two computers flickered onto the same shot.
Second_Sight: No use trying.
Tori checked the door. The locks didn't work in the building, but she kept her kitchen knives by the doorframe incase of intruders. She looked back at the screen and typed a reply.
Morse: Who is this?
The answer came.
Second_Sight: Does it really matter?
Tori reached for the escape button again.
Second_Sight: Not too bright. I have questions for you and answers to ones you have.
Morse: How do you know my name?
Second_Sight: I know many things about you.
Tori grinned. It all became clear.
Morse: Get out of my computer, Bug.
Second_Sight: This is not whom you suspect. You have a question; I have the answer, but first, answer mine.
Morse: I'm leaving.
Second_Sight: You won't, not till you hear me out. Meet me.
Morse: Who is this?
Second_Sight: Follow the yellow brick road, Victoria. Who knows where it leads?
Suddenly the screen went blank again. Tori pushed back her chair and kicked the trashcan over. An assortment of old cigarette packets and Chinese take out boxes spilled over the floor. She grabbed her fur coat from the bed and stormed out the door. She slammed it behind her, sending a few flakes of dust out of the rafters.