Chapter 2 everybody! come on, i didnt think i was so bad that i cant seem to get any reviews. Well, here the next chapter. dont kno when chapter 3 will be coming. havent started it yet. but enjoy this one.
Chapter 2 ---present
My mind is reeling. I'd like to believe that it was the tens of hundreds of thousands of people styling my hair. I really would. But I know better, or wish I did anyway. The question is there. The decision still lurking. But the choice or answer I seek is still behind shadows.
Shadows put there by sheer and utter confusion. Who is good and who is evil? Am I evil? Is that why I'm being put through this torture! Is there anyone who can answer me? Anyone at all….
I feel myself being lifted, figuratively mind you. There was always one person who could answer my questions. He could and if he couldn't then he'd match me with the same amount of questions. He helped me when no one else would. Stayed where everyone else ran. With him there was no choice, I knew the answer. I can see clear as day. But right now there is a seed a doubt that is forming, clouding all judgment.
My head feels as if it is being stuck with a thousand pins. Oh right, it is. Ha! Imagine that. Golden locks being pulled tightly away from my face. Hot curling irons curling my long locks. My body, or more accurate, my head surrounded and suffocated by cans of hairspray. Blow dryers aimed at my face. Why? Who knows?
I wish that there was only one person working on me so then it would take longer to get ready. Longer readying time means more time before I have to go up in front of all those people to give my decision. More time, that's what I need. More time. But how….
-- Two weeks earlier
Still at my dad's house. Sometimes I find myself thinking that maybe life here isn't as bad as I took it the first day. But then I realize what I was just thinking and kick myself for even considering it. It's like, it's like…. It's like God thinking that Hell could be called home. It just doesn't work. Never will. If Mom were here then maybe, possibly, it could be considered home and good. But she's not, so it isn't. It never will be. Home was back in Florida with Mom before she got cancer and that's where home will always be.
Since I came to this godforsaken (and cold! Did I mention cold!)place, I have spent much time locking in my room. Not because I'm in trouble (yet), I don't spend enough time with my dad to get in trouble. But because I don't want to meet anyone here. Stupid Pennsylvania.
A little smile formed on my lips. Hmmm…How about a little music? Mom and I always just listened to Broadway show tunes so, consequently, all I own are show tunes. The best part is that Dad (yes, I have decided to call him that) hates show tunes with a passion. Not that he ever told me, but the clenching of hands and grinding of teeth was a clear enough sign. Wicked, Les Mis, 42nd Street, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Anything Goes, Phantom…. So many choices. Well, Anything Goes always gets stuck in people's heads.
Laughing to myself, I get the cd, put in the player and adjust the sound. The door and windows in my room have been left open just for this. I hear the machine whir to life and press the PLAY button.
"In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking but now, God knows, Anything Goes." The cd player was blasting the singer's voice. Humming I eased the volume up more. I could hear the music echoing throughout the house.
"The world has gone mad today and good's bad today. Black's white today and day's night today. And most guys today that women prize today and just silly gigolos! And though I'm not a great romancer, I know that I'm bound to answer when you propose. Anything goes!"
I could hear my father coming up the steps muttering to himself. Quickly I pause the cd, just as my dad pushes open the door.
"Are you blasting those stupid show tunes again," he growled. This had become my daily ritual. Ever since I came here a week ago, I had to find something to amuse myself, so each day I picked a different show tune and blasted it through the house till he came storming up into my room. In all honesty, it was quite fun. For me anyway.
A defeated sigh. "No Dad, I'm not."
"You swear?"
Hands behind my back, I cross my fingers. "Yeah. Maybe the songs are just stuck in your head."
"Maybe," he muttered disbelievingly.
Putting on my most innocent face and smiled sweetly at him. With a sigh, he turned around and went back downstairs. Presumably to watch football. And now ladies and gentlemen, the fun begins. Adjusting the volume to quiet it down, I un-pause the cd. Then while the song is playing turn it up just I time for the part of the song he hates the most.
"If saying your prayers you like, or green pears you like. Or old chairs you like, or back stairs you like. If love affairs you like or young bears you like. Why no one will oppose."
Again I paused the music just a second before my dad barged in. "Okay, you are playing those goddamn show tunes again! Just admit it!"
Putting on my most defiant face, I replied. "I told you. I…am…not…playing…any…show tunes. Okay?"
"I don't believe you."
"Fine don't."
"Rochelle," my father growled. "I demand that you tell me the truth. Are…you…playing…show tunes!"
"I plead the fifth."
"What!"
"I plead the fifth. Is your hearing going as well as your mind?"
At that point my father looked more animal than man. His eyes dart towards my cd played and back at me and back at the player. Of course it's the wrong one but I won't tell him that. This is something new. Normally he comes up once, yells, and then finds some ear plugs. Today though, he actually seems angry. I notice him preparing to lunge. He knows that I know what he is about to do. I make it to the cd player first and stand in front of it.
"Do you have a search warrant," I asked defiantly. At my father's confused face, I repeat myself. "May I see a search warrant?"
I think at that point my father's face took on a purplish hue. "You know, you may want to breathe," I commented on lightly.
Various noises came from his person. I guess him trying to form an actual sentence but failing. "I demand that you open that cd player now Rochelle!"
"Well, first things first. A-Screaming isn't going to get you anywhere. B-I have already asked to see a search warrant. This is my room and unless you have a warrant permitting you to search my room, a.k.a. the cd player…."
The end of my sentence got drowned out by the great roar of frustration from my father. He came towards me with one fist raised. A flicker of fear crossed my face for a split second as I thought that he might actually hit me. Stiffening my body and holding my head high, I demanded that he leave my room.
"You listen to me, you skinny little bitch! This is my house and I make the orders here!"
"This is my room and I demand that you get OUT!"
The end of this sentence came out as a scream. Fear and anger make a hostile combination. What started out as innocent fun had now become something terrible. Where there were once two people, a father and a daughter, now there stood a man in the brink of insanity and a young woman terrified out of her mind yet still willing to defy her father. The hostility in the others eyes faded after a few minutes.
"You know what? I don't have to deal with this. You're grounded Rochelle."
"What! What for? Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That's no answer!"
"It's my answer. You're grounded."
"Fine. Till when?"
"Until I say so. That's when!"
With that my father slammed the door closed, shaking the frame of the door, and a small click could be heard. I ran to the door and turned and pulled but still the door wouldn't budge. Dammit! He locked it. Fine, I'll sneak out. He isn't going to keep me in here.
You learn a couple of things in Florida, especially with Mom. I remember we used to have races to see who could sneak out of the house first. Neither of us would always win. In the long run, it was more of a tie. It was always in a different spot but we were always at least one floor up.
Carefully rigging the door was the first step of my plan, after that it was all downhill. My second cd player (the hidden one) would be connected to my door. When the door was closed, the music would start playing, loudly and annoyingly. When the door was opened, the music would stop. This would continue until I turned it off.
Since Anything Goes got me into this, it seems only fitting that it should be played now. Making sure the cd was in the player, I began to from my escape route. Climbing straight down would be sheer folly, but it would be more fun.
A couple of feet away from my window were one of the decks on this house. If I could get there, then I could use the deck for support until I found a foothold. There's a window not too far from the deck. Get there and I could jump to the ground. No sweat.
Thirty to forty minutes later I find myself on the ground smirking at the house. Try to lock me in, I thought, and I'll find a way to escape. See ya later Dad. With a short breathy laugh of triumph, I pick up my little pack I made and head off. Walking towards the road, the first decision, of many, must be made. Right or left? Right or left, I puzzled. Having not lived here all that long, the location that each way led was unknown to me. Well, Mom always said that right was usually right.
Turning towards the right, I soon broke out into a run as I heard my father scream with frustration. With a couple of hours left of light, I headed off in a sprint. Running down the street my father lived and still continuing towards the river that I know is near. After who knows how long, I found myself walking into the city of Wilkes-Barre.
Even though I was in the city (if you can call it that), my body still continued at a sprint. My mind continued to scream that I was still too close to my father's house. I had no idea as to how long I had been running. No idea except that when I had started off on this venture, the sun had been high in the sky whereas now the sun was beginning its descent to the horizon. Stopping, my body fell to the ground in exhaustion. Sitting on the curb of the sidewalk while my mind tried to get its bearings.
It is almost dark and here I am sitting on a curb with no thought as to where exactly I am or where I should go. Part of me wanted to say that it's not all bad and that everything will be alright, but then there's the other part of me. The other part that continues to conjure up every horrible thought at a mile a second. Let's see, I thought, trying to calm my nerves. It can't be all bad. Take a deep breath Rochelle and figure out what you can do. Okay, I am sitting on a curb of a sidewalk on a street I don't know in a city I have never seen I the dark. No, there's nothing wrong at all. Alright Rochelle, enough is enough. Everything is going to be okay! It will! Walk it off…. Yeah, just walk it off.
Getting up from my spot on the side walk, look around to find myself alone and begin to walk in a random direction. Darkness adds more shadows and each building I pass seems to give off a menacing air. Trees and plants become the creatures of a child's nightmare and each shadow seen looks like some dark spirit. I could feel the fear in my body clutch at my heart lie a cold hand. Body clenching in fear, I jerk around in odd circles, trying to see everything and anything.
My breath came in short gasps as I started running again. Where am I? Why, oh why did I run away! I haven't even been here all that long. Settle down Rochelle, I scolded myself. Don't let fear get the better of you. You mustn't let it blind you. Think of it as a…problem, yeah a problem that I must solve.
Feeling slightly reassured, I hesitantly begin to continue walking. Eyes darting to catch every light and shadow, head moving to place every sound. Another body behind me. Shivers run through my body. A hand reaching for me. I can sense him there, breathing slowly, calmly. My own breathing sped up as I sensed his hand come closer and closer…. Reaching for my shoulder to slowly turn me around.
The minute the hand touches my shoulder, a scream, louder than I ever had imagined, erupted from me. Fear lent wings to my feet as I sprinted off for the third time that night. There were footsteps behind me. He's following me! He's following me, I shrieked in my head. Breathing, as hard as mine, catching up to me. Blinded by fear and anger for having run away in the first place, I took random streets and turns and alleys. A turn right, run down a street a couple of blocks, another turn…left this time. Race ever harder for an upcoming alleyway. Running and running until…. Dead end. D-dead end…. Dead end! No! He's behind me! He's coming! He's….
Hard footsteps came to a halt at the entrance to the alley. He stopped. I could feel him watching me.
Here, I finished weakly.
Okay, he's going to come over here and I'm…I'm…. Parched from thirst and weak from hunger and tired from running, I felt the cold dread in the pit of my stomach. Whatever he wanted to do to me, he's going to be able to do it however hard I fight. Slowly, I turn around, bracing myself for whatever may come. He began to advance towards me, arms outstretched, face shrouded in shadows.
"You are one helluva runner, you know that?" His voice was low and as he drew nearer I caught what he was wearing. Dark pants and matching jacket with a white sort of shirt underneath
He drew even closer still; I began taking deep breaths, preparing to scream.
"I just wanted to know if you needed help. You seemed lost and scared. Are you lost? Are you from around here? Do you need a place to stay," he asked slowly.
I opened my mouth to scream and felt a hand clamp over my mouth. My scream stayed silent, inside my body as panic overtook my body.
"Please don't scream. I'm not here to hurt you. I just thought that maybe you needed help. Wilkes-Barre isn't what it used to be, you know. Dangerous people walk the streets, especially at night," the man explained.
"Don't touch me," I bit out. He withdrew his hands. It was then that I realized that he had a hand on my shoulder and mouth. He still stayed close though. Too close. Close enough to grab me before I could even think of defending myself.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he repeated slowly. "Here," he held out his hand, "my name is George."
"Get away from me," I bit out again.
My thoughts were racing a mile a minute. He's so close. So close. Is this where my life is to end? In a deserted alleyway? No! I'll fight back. What is he doing? He's holding out his hand. What he wants to shake hands and get all the formalities over with before he….
Even in my mind I couldn't come up with the strength to say the word. I wanted and tried so hard to make myself believe that that was not what he was there for. But what else could he be there for?
This guy, this George, had stepped back a couple of feet from where I stood, clenched with fear. My eyes were closed tightly and I prayed for a miracle to get me through this. Slowly I opened my eyes to find him licking his lips and playing with his jacket.
Oh God, this is the end….
He begins to sway. Moving as though trying to find his balance on wobbly ground. He collapses to the ground in a heap. What's going on? There was this odd sensation in my fingertips. I look to find that they are wet, slowly, as if in a daze, I rub my fingertips together. Staring at them as if they were part of someone else's body. How could my fingertips be wet? There's no puddle or rain or anything. He looks pale and yet sweating. Almost as though the water was being pulled from him.
I frantically look at my hands and back to him, lying on the ground soon to be unconscious. Forgetting my fear, I ran over to him, pulling him towards me so I could see his face. I put my hands on his forehead. Cold as ice yet sweating as if on a bed of coals.
"What's wrong? Why are you so cold and sweating," I asked him frantically.
"Water," he gasped.
"Water. Water!"
Just then it hit me. The water on my fingertips the minute he started licking his lips and fiddling with his jacket. A gasp came from him. A gasp of relief seemed to come from him .His once cold body that was sweating profusely was now of regular body heat and no longer sweating. He got hot and close to death because of me, I thought slowly. That's the only way to explain why my fingers were wet like they were in water and why he all of a sudden got better when I touched him.
I rose slowly, looked at this George and headed off in a sprint again. Location-wise, I knew nothing except that there was a small river near here. In some sort of wooded area. That's where I would go and hide.
I almost killed a man. Why didn't anybody tell me about this…this curse! I-I…almost k-killed someone. Killed someone….
well hoped you liked. please R&R. btw, the new season of teen titans has startd a couple of weeks ago and i still havent seen one new show yet! AAHH! i wanna see the new shows. well, maybe i can beg my dad to get satellite back just till hte season ends. think that could work?