Chapter 2: Carla

Morning came quickly.

Long before I would have expected, the small pinpoints that were the city lights disappeared one by one in quick succession, replaced by the warm glow that announced the arrival of the sun's light. Night was what truly frightened me about the city, and now that the day was here, it was rendered harmless-- and although the same crazies who raped, robbed, and killed at night were still there, they wouldn't do anything to a harmless girl at dawn. I was safe, and before I knew it, I was out of the turbulent city, and nearing the neighborhoods that I had grown up around.

As I continued to walk, feeling less and less burdened with each step, more and more houses became familiar to me. I walked past some of the same '97 Dodges-- landmarks that had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember… A time before Jacqueline. Before I had learned of the prophecy that concerned me.

My stomach was knotting up and my head was pounding, and yet all the while, I felt good about being on my way back there-- the conflicting emotions I was now feeling were full of enough ambiguity to make any philosopher's head turn.

My feet were throbbing, and felt as if they were about to fall off, and yet I pressed on. I had to get there. My sneakers felt tightened. I sweat buckets although it was a relatively nice day, and the sun was gently shining down on the world.

Although I knew that it was ridiculous, I felt hesitation when I at last saw the winding road that was Postton street. My heart fell into my stomach, an in my mind, I felt it being eaten away by the acid. I wanted to turn right back, and get the fuck out of dodge. I couldn't handle it; I couldn't walk down that street and see how everything had changed. It would kill me, but I had to do it nonetheless, so before I could tell my feet to stop, I was walking towards the end of the street; hoping against all hope that the flood of memories and emotions that were causing a monstrous case of déjà vu to course through the air would not cause me to simply break down and cry.

I had to at least try to remain strong-- without strength, where would I be now? Six feet under, probably. I bit my lip, until I nearly gagged on the metal taste of blood, and then quickened my pace; before I knew it, there it was.

I faced my old house, and frowned angrily at the painted-- and now quite faded FOR SALE sign that was still posted in the front-lawn-- just a few feet away from the front-door; I had first noticed the thing the previous year, but it hadn't made as much an impact until right now-- maybe it was the gloomy way it added to the overall ambience of the place. I shuddered. The previously green grass was faded and yellowing. The house looked like a nightmare when compared to the other dozen houses that surrounded it on either side-- a crow among swans. The rest of the world faded away, and I took myself back to a time when everything that was now wrong with the house had been inexistent. The grass became green again, the house less ominous, and the ugly sign disappeared in a flash of angry white light. Returned the day when I could simply stroll on inside, and find my parents making dinner in the kitchen-- grinning from ear to ear as I entered the house; inquiring as to my day in school. A stupid smile spread across my face, but was simply wiped off again as reality returned to me; those times were long gone, and reliving them was useless.

I could not live in the past; smiling wistfully at every reminder. I wasn't a naïve girl of eleven any longer; I had grown and matured.

Threatening to return if I ventured to stay, I shook the images away from my mind for all time, and sighing at the sad sight that had become the house, turned around in the other direction, and began walking once again. I shook my head at my stupidity; old Mrs. Robles-- if she was still alive had been a nosy, bitter old bitch when I had lived there, and if she still had it in her, would definitely call the cops and tell them my whereabouts-- that would lead to mountains of trouble… I stole a glance at her house; the curtains were drawn over the windows; thank God. I had been staring at my old house for over five minutes. An ancient dog barked from behind a gated fence as I continued to walk, and I smiled at it; I had known her well when I had been younger. The dog at least ceased its barking just as I realized that I had at last reached my destination… I felt an odd combination of excitement, despair, and fear as I stared at the vine-covered two-story home that had always housed my best friend and her parents for as long as I could remember. I took in a very deep breath as I slowly walked up the stone steps that led to the front door. I stood there on the doorstep, and listened for voices from the inside… Maybe no one's home, I thought, still half-panicked, noticing the empty driveway and garage, but, there's only one way to find out… With that encouraging thought, my right hand formed a tight fist, and my palms heavily perspiring from both the heat and my inner feelings, knocked three times on the hard wood of the door. No answer. I knocked again, and at long last heard footsteps quickly approaching the door; the door soon opened to reveal a young black woman in her mid-twenties, wearing an old Ramone's tee-shirt from the '90's, and her hair done up in a ponytail. I smiled in semi-disbelief when I realized that she did not recognize me after so long, but her face then contorted into a strange look; a combination of shock and disbelief, "Beatrice," she whispered, choking up at the sight of me, "I thought-- I thought--"

She shook the rest of the statement away, and I nodded; we didn't need words. I knew what she meant. We quickly embraced; tears stung my eyes at the reunion, "My God," I whispered, "it's been years," I finished the statement, and pulled away from her, still trembling from the wave of emotions that had just buzzed past me-- but most of all by the notion that after years of my pulling the disappearing act, Carla would remember.

"No shit, Sherlock," she retorted after a moment of awkward silence in that same sarcastic tone I had missed so, and forgetting all my anxieties and worries at our reunion, I burst out laughing.

After the both of us had recovered from the hilarity, I decided to try to explain my sudden reappearance, "Carla, I--"

"Who's at the door?" a young man's voice suddenly asked, catching me off guard, and cutting off my voice abruptly, for without warning, there he was; slipping his arms around Carla's small waist, and making puppy eyes at her, "Car, who is it?" he asked, as his eyes slowly met mine; the tears were instantly gone from my blue eyes as I recognized who he was-- and in that same smarmy voice I had known and loathed for so long whispered, "Damn, Beatrice… I thought you were dead or something."

"Funny how things can work out in life, isn't it?" I quickly retorted, unscathed by his comment, yet glowing with anger; my hatred for the boy rising.

Carla glanced back and forth between the two of us anxiously; almost as if expecting one-- or both of us to explode at each other, but no. Save for a slight outburst in the eighth grade in homeroom, between the boy and I, words had always been exchanged quietly and brutally. After deeming the outburst implausible, Carla grinned a guilty, sympathetic smile, and then gestured for me to follow her into the house; my disbelief nearly led me to turn around and go back to the streets. Was the world going whacko? Out of all the single men in the world, she had chosen him? Carla was actually dating the little bastard--? Back in middle school-- all that shit he had talked about her behind her back, and now--

There was an awkward moment of silence between the three of us; it was obvious that no one wanted the task of breaking it, but at last Carla spoke up, after having gently closed the door behind us, "But where have you been?" she asked, turning to me, as I sat down on the couch in the living-room; I could instantly tell that Carla's parents had been doing some major redecorating for the entire living room (including the couch) was sparkling, white, and recently bought at some noble place of business like IKEA. I stared at Carla as she took a seat on a smaller couch opposite mine, as I debated answering, her questions continued, "I mean… your dad died, and then your step mom disappeared, and then you disappeared… It was all over the news, for God's sake, Beatrice. That fowl-play shit was suspected, but nothing ever came of it because Jacqueline had basically evaporated into thin-air. No trace of her, or of you. You were labeled a poster child for 'mental abuse,' and they suspected you had either run away from home, or had killed yourself. Then, your dad's mom just withered away after you were gone, and on her deathbed, she requested to be buried beside you… There's an empty grave over there on Rose Hills."

"I know," I replied, as the boy whom I so utterly despised took the empty seat beside Carla, "I went there to visit my parents' graves today," it wasn't a total lie-- I had visited their graves… just not in the recent past.

"But what happened that night, Beatrice? They say you just disappeared from your room."

I raked my mind for memories and images that could easily be manipulated into believable lies from that night-- I couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. Doubtful she'd believe me, but with her bastard of a boyfriend here, it would be made all the more awkward. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again before responding, "I found him at the foot of the stairs that night, and something happened-- I was knocked unconscious, and woke up in the hospital. I didn't know what to do. Jacqueline was gone, and I knew she was responsible… I was crazy with fear and anger; I guess I just wanted to find the bitch and kill her, so I jumped out of the window, and left town for good…"

Carla suddenly began to weep. This action taking me by great surprise, I stared down at my trembling hands, feeling overwhelming guilt at having lied, and blinking a second wave of tears away. I looked up after a few seconds to find the boy now stroking Carla's black hair; obviously some way of calming her, "I know it's all so fucked up, Carla," I said, "and I've told you everything I know…"

"Are you sure?" she suddenly asked, looking directly into my eyes.

"Yes," I whispered, deeply taken aback by how easy it had been to lie-- the streets certainly hadn't done anything for my morals.

I really had changed.

"But, after. Beatrice, why didn't you call me-- why didn't you tell me that all those dreams I'd had of you dead were nothing. Beatrice, I was scared when you disappeared. I thought-- I thought--" her sobs returned, and she buried her face in her hands.

"Calm down, Car," the boy suddenly whispered, causing me to remember that he was still here-- I'd nearly forgotten.

More silence. Well, not really; Carla's heavy sobs bounced off the walls, and I nearly regretted having returned. This went on for about five minutes, and weakness overcame me twice; my eyes met with the boy's, and I stared defiantly back. The deceitful little bastard!

The "silence" ended; "Well, did you ever find out what happened to her?"

I shook my head; another lie, "No. My stepmother was nothing but a filthy little…" I drifted off, nearly saying the rarely used "C-WORD." I refrained, as that was the only curse-word Carla despised, "…bitch," I finished, angrily, "I know she's still out there. Hopefully dead," another lie. If I wasn't before, I was surely going to hell now.

The boy looked up at me again, now glaring, and I felt like slapping him. What was his problem?

And then, the boy spoke up for the first time, other than his "caring" quips to Carla; his voice took on its usual smarmy, hateful tone, but before he spoke, a taunting laugh rang in my ears from him, causing me to grit my teeth in annoyance, "But where have you been, Beatrice?" his cold eyes once again glared at me, and I gritted my teeth a tad bit harder to restrain the urge to lash out at him Trouble had followed me around, but that didn't mean I liked to invite it. I had much suppressed anger inside me, but I couldn't fight with him just bad. Maybe it would have been a good idea to have performed one of those sexual favors-- maybe I could have arranged for a bum to kill the boy as payment-- but then I'd be a slut, so…

Carla stared at me, also hungry for a response as I formed an answer, "In and around Barstow," I answered; my voice hardly louder than a whisper, "I've been living on the streets for a while," I finally met her eyes again, without fear, for I was actually telling the truth.

"Oh, my God, Beatrice," Carla suddenly gushed, jumped up from her seat, and joined me on my couch, "You must have been so scared," she wrapped her arms around me, and my heart began to beat with less and less ferocity; I responded to the embrace my closing my eyes in deep thought.

"I was," I answered truthfully, as long suppressed tears finally began falling from my eyes.

"So, that's all?" she whispered, as she pulled away from me, "That's where you've been all these years?" her watery eyes met mine again, and I looked into them pleadingly; nodding my head and hoping that she was buying it.

She stared at me long and hard, before answering, "I believe you," she whispered, reassuringly, "but--"

"But I thought that you'd fallen into some fairy story!" Travis suddenly interrupted, cruelly, and then he burst out laughing.