Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (27 page)

   Rebecca nods, “I agree. And we don't talk to anyone about her at all. Everyone on the same page?”

   Jennifer and Caroline nod their agreement. The three cheerleaders cross the street from the parking lot and enter into the front entrance of West Hills High.

   “Jennifer!”, a boy's voice yells out from down the busy hallway, “Hold up!”

   The three cheerleaders look nervously at each other as Jason and Marcus jog up to meet them.

   “Hey, where's Tamara? She's not answering my texts,” Jason sounds more demanding than concerned.

   “Uh - I don't know,” Jennifer lies, “I thought she was with you.”

   “What?”, the boy worries briefly before second-guessing the truth within her statement. His brows narrow.

   “Where is she, Jennifer? And don't lie to me. She always tells someone where she's going. If she didn't tell me then you know exactly where she is,” Jason accuses.

   “Gawd!”, Jennifer dramatizes by looking upward. Her eyes falls back onto Tamara's boyfriend, “If you must know, Tamara went to a retreat. And if she hasn't told you about it, then she probably didn't want you to know. Capish?”

   Caroline and Rebecca follow Jennifer as the girl turns to storm away angrily.

   “Retreat?”, Caroline whispers.

   “It's the best I had at the time.”

   “It'll work,” Rebecca's mind churns its calculating engine, “Let's go work out the details.”

   The three friends head towards the bathroom. Today is just one of those days where they will all have to be late for class. There are much more important matters to contend with. Tamara needs a cover story to settle the student body's swarm of gossip bees.

   Mandie approaches the back corner of the old farmhouse. She stops and turns back around. Tamara crawls out of the cellar on her hands and knees. The taller girl looks up and glares at Mandie with her teary brown eyes. She vomits on the edge of the grass where the concrete stairs begin their dissension down to the man-woman.

   The eighteen-year-old with black hair turns and walks around the house's corner. She makes her way to the front, walks up the creaky stairs leading to the front porch, and walks inside of the house. She hangs a left into the room of her massive beating.

   A cheap mop, a bottle of pine-sol, and three bottles of bleach rest in the back left corner. Mandie closes her eyes and inhales the scent of cleanliness. When she reopens them, the girl strolls over to her stereo. A neatly piled stack of broken branches lay upon the floor directly in front of the expensive system. Mandie smiles.

   She looks to the stereo's left. Propped against the wall and tied with a blue ribbon, she sees two unforgettable whipping sticks. They were her favorite. But more importantly, Tamara clearly enjoyed using them as well. After all, Tamara's the one who has tied Mandie's blue hair ribbon around them.

   Mandie glances back down to the sticks lying on the floor. The broken switches only frustrated both girls. It seemed just as Tamara would start getting into it, a stick would break. Mandie would then mock the cheerleader concerning her knowledge about trees, and Tamara would curse back at her before running out to grab another one. After about six sticks, Tamara finally figured it out.

   Her last trip was successful. And whenever she returned with the two sticks now having a bow around them, Tamara kissed each one. She then grinned and calmly told Mandie what was coming, “You've had it now, bitch.” And she was right.

   The branch about an inch thick was a solid piece of equipment. Its primary function was to bruise. And it did its job well. The smaller green one, however, had its own purpose. It didn't bruise like its thicker counterpart. Instead, it stung something awful. In a sense, the thinner branch was definitely more intense. But that probably has something to do with the fact that Tamara was partial to its results.

   The smaller stick caused instant whelping. And that's only when Tamara was using it to tease Mandie by taking force off of her swing. But whenever Tamara swung in full force, the stick caused Mandie to bleed. It cut like a knife. It never cut deeper than her flesh so as to cause an unwanted trip to the hospital, but it was enough to cause Mandie to beg for Tamara's mercy in the matter. Although she genuinely wanted the cheerleader to stop, she is so glad Tamara refused. Because that's the whole point – to cry, beg, and know you are only serving to increase your own pain levels. After all, Mandie carefully chose Tamara for this very reason.

  One who enjoys pain must know that the one who is dishing it out will not stop in moments of weakness and despair. On that note, it is vital the aggressor is consumed with the sounds of begging pleas and the sight of their own work. If not, they will stop too soon each time someone like Mandie begins crossing over her pain's threshold. The next day is then awkward and disappointing.

   With this kind of freedom given to the aggressor, it is an absolute must they understand the human body completely. Any lack of knowledge could result in serious permanent harm. And this is definitely not the point.

   For Mandie, the brutality suffered at the hands of Tamara was nightmarish to say the least. It was frightening and no fun at all. Not really. But this day afterwards is the part Mandie now enjoys. Today, she gets to cringe when sitting down. Today, she is able to enjoy the discomforts of attempting to put clothes on her body. Yes. Today is absolutely wonderful for Mandie.

   Mandie feels completely satisfied. Today, she is able to tell how much Tamara enjoyed hearing her beg and cry. She hopes the satisfaction will continue. For the days to follow will tell Mandie just how much Tamara wanted her to see and feel Tamara's hard work. In Mandie's eyes, it is Tamara who is the one getting ripped off in the ordeal. She doesn't get to feel what Mandie gets to feel – Tamara's beautiful artwork.

   Mandie secretly hopes to catch Tamara admiring her own work. The idea is intoxicating to her. But if the cheerleader shows any signs of regret or sorrow, then Tamara will be a huge disappointment to this perfect case scenario. Mandie desires for Tamara too long to do it over and over again. That would be really good news. But the odds of everything being perfect are low. Mandie understands this.

   She understands Tamara has never beaten someone like her before. And it's not like Mandie could have sit down and had a conversation with the girl. To begin with, Mandie isn't part of the S.V.C. Therefore, she doesn't have the social right to have a conversation of this magnitude. And secondly, Tamara would have denied such a thought. For the cheerleader does not understand who she truly is. Or at least, she didn't. Finally, and the big one, Tamara didn’t know that Mandie even existed.

   It wasn't until Tamara found herself in the middle of the moment that she began embracing the idea. But when she did, Tamara fully embraced pushing the dark hair girl over her pain's threshold. She pushed and pushed – holding the girl over her threshold for many excruciating and terrifying hours. And all to Mandie's delight. Well, at least today it is to her delight.

   The only part that actually surprised Mandie was the part where Tamara caringly took care of her afterwards. She did it with such compassion. Yet, the cheerleader never ruined it by regretting or apologizing for Mandie's condition.

   Mandie walks over to the two unbroken sticks leaning against the wall. She runs her fingers gently over the blue ribbon. The girl with long black hair smiles over Tamara's perfection in the way she performed. The cheerleader didn't have to role-play or become something she isn't. Tamara just is. Hopefully, as she sees the whelps and bruises begin to fade from Mandie's curvy pale-white body, Tamara will long to do it again.

   Mandie walks back to the front of her stereo and selects an upbeat song by the band Kittie. She walks into the kitchen and glances out of the back window above the single ceramic sink. Tamara lies on the ground crying. The cheerleader has her knees tucked into a fetal position.

   “Who's the bitch now?”, Mandie playfully whispers.

   “I'm tellin' you, bro. You're trippin' for no reason,” Marcus explains to Jason, “Tamara's really into you.”

   “Then tell me why that geek David Snow is telling people he's got a date with her this weekend?”, Jason fumes, “And then she runs off to some kind of retreat without saying anything at all to me.”

   Marcus points across the lunchroom, “First off, that geek over there has no shot with Tamara. He ain't even got a shot with any cheerleader. Think about it.”

   Marcus places both of his light brown hands palm down on the table, “Can you seriously imagine a cheerleader from our school putting her social career in jeopardy for a geek?”

   “I'll be back,” Jason informs as he stands up from the table.

   “Come on, Jay. Don't do this. Coach will suspend you if something happens,” Marcus pleas.

   “I'm just going to scare him,” Jason explains, “That's all.”

   Marcus, reluctantly, follows his best friend over to the geek's table. The students sitting there all stop chatting whenever they see the two all-state basketball players approaching.

    “You!”, Jason threatens one of the boys wearing glasses, “Keep my girlfriend's name out of your mouth or we're going to have a serious problem.”

   The boy nervously looks upward and nods. Jason's right hand tightens into a fist. Marcus grabs his friend's right bicep.

   “He's got the message, bro,” Marcus pulls Jason's arm firmly, “This ain't worth getting suspended over.”

   Jason jerks his arm free. He points his right index finger two inches from David Snow's nose.

   “Don't make me regret walking away, geek,” Jason threatens through gritted teeth.

He turns and walks with Marcus out of the lunchroom. David Snow finishes his tuna sandwich and leaves the chow hall without uttering a single word.

   “Oh, gawd. We're ruined,” Rebecca watches the confrontation taking place at the geek's table.

   “Yeah, that's not good,” Jennifer verifies.

   “Let's just wait and see what Tamara wants to do,” Caroline reasons, “Maybe she'll have an idea we haven't thought of yet.”

   “What - kill everybody off?”, Rebecca huffs.

   “Don't say that,” Jennifer warns against Rebecca's cheap shot.

   “I was just saying,” Rebecca backpedals, “Don't get your panties in a bunch.”

   “Don't say,” Jennifer reiterates her final warning.

   “Fine,” Rebecca backs down, “Maybe Caroline's right. We should wait until Tamara gets back.”

   The three girls watch as Marcus and Jason exit the lunchroom.

   “So,” Rebecca inquires, “Who's gonna tell Tamara about Jason?”

   “I've got it,” Jennifer answers. She tosses her half-eaten pizza down on the tray, stands up, and walks out of the lunchroom. Caroline and Rebecca exchange concerning glances.

   For the past few hours, Mandie has watched Tamara have a mental meltdown. The taller girl has paced the front yard, sat in her car, screamed out, and cried. Now, she sits on the porch with her head against the rail post and stares blankly down the driveway. No thoughts seem able to form. Everything is chaotic. Everything is madness. But she might be ready to step out of the shock she has been in.

   Tamara hears the screen door open up behind her, “Go back inside. I don't want to see you right now.”

   “Are you hungry?”, Mandie quietly questions.

   Tamara turns to give Mandie a look of condemnation.

   “No. I am
not
hungry,” Tamara speaks short tempered, “I just killed someone. Dammit! You really
are
crazy.”

   Mandie doesn't react to the verbal attack against her. She gives the cheerleader a look of compassion and understanding.

   “I'll be inside cooking us some cheeseburgers,” Mandie explains very calmly. She turns around with the new sheet she has placed around herself. The girl pauses.

   “By the way. You didn't murder that filthy pig, Tamara. You put him down like the sick pervert he was. Always remember that.”

   Mandie mutters under her breath, but just loud enough for Tamara to hear, “I wonder how many more little girls he hurt after you?”

   Tamara listens to the screen door close. Shortly, thereafter, the stereo stops playing the hard sounding metal music in which Mandie seems so partial to.

  
Brittney Spears?

   Tamara has never cared for Brittney Spears. But she doesn't exactly hate her either. It's just one of those things. She listens as the song begins playing. Tamara rolls her eyes.

   “Certifiable,” Tamara says with a sigh.

   Tamara listens through her tormented mental exhaustion.

   “Hit me baby one more time,” Mandie sings loudly.

   “You
are
crazy,” Tamara’s condemnation is laced with slight enjoyment. She listens as Mandie sings only the one line of the song every time it is said. With each repetitive outburst of Mandie’s terrible singing voice, Tamara's mood improves.

   Whenever the song ends, so does the short-lived Brittney Spear performance. Tamara awaits the next selection. The blond grins as the music flip-flops back to Mandie's favored genre.

   Tamara's unfamiliarity with the song makes her listen intently to the words. About midway through, Tamara nods.

   “Yep, crazy as they make ‘em,” Tamara adores with a whisper, “Mandie with an i-e.”

   Mandie switches out the Brittney Spears teaser and replaces the empty air with music she prefers. Most girls her age are not into the band Metallica. But she likes them. And it's her house, sorta. So she'll play one of her favorite songs by them,
Sanitarium
.

   The sore girl strolls into the kitchen to check on the frying cheeseburgers. She flips each one, mashes it slightly with a spatula, and then proceeds to prep a tomato, two slices of cheese, and some lettuce. As she makes her final cuts into the tomato, she hears the bathroom's faucet turn on. Mandie glances over and sees Tamara with a toothbrush in her mouth. Not wanting to risk destroying the cheerleader's progress, Mandie turns her back to the small bathroom.