Ripple Effect: A Novel (15 page)

Darkness surrounded me and I was all alone. A chill etched down my spine, rippling through my body. Ice crystals sat on my breath; I felt them on the warm palm of my hand. Darkness was all I saw, all I could comprehend of this new found dungeon.

I knew one thing: It wasn’t Hell. Papa wouldn’t allow it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I waited for my eyes to adjust to my black surroundings. My other senses kicked in and, aside from being freezing, the air smelled familiar. Not a good familiar. It made my stomach drop horribly.

Coal—it smelled like the black deposit that gave my father cancer.

That explained where I had landed. It had to be a mine, possibly even one that Papa worked in.

I exhaled loudly and tried to gather all the bravery within me before stepping forward, following the rusted tracks. My instinct said to move forward, though I wasn’t sure if it would lead me to light and freedom or just deeper into the old coal mine.

My hands reached out and touched the walls. The stone had been chiseled and large gashes and scrapes remained on the rocky surface. What it must’ve been like to work in these mines, all day, every day. What it must have been like to be Papa, dying slowly here.

To pierce the deadly silence, I began humming a song that he used to sing to us. I could only hum the melody—it reminded me of a calm ocean—because the words were German. I was horrible at speaking or singing German. A small laugh escaped me as I thought about when Adie tried to sing the song. She had sounded like a goose.

Frozen in place, I swore I heard something—like a muffled cry. Could it be human?

I pushed my back against the wall and inched forward slowly, trying to remain calm.

There it was again. It’s a dreaded noise to hear, especially when walking in a darkened tunnel alone. It was the sound of a person whimpering, crying, sobbing. Perhaps all of the above.

Instinctually, I headed toward the noise, and after a few yards came across a small cubby that had been dug out by the coal miners. In the cubby on the floor lay three people curled up and crying.

Why were they there? My first thought was that they were lost . . . in a mine . . . that’s abandoned. But then I saw that they were chained to the wall.

It made sense now! They were the kidnapped girls that everyone was talking about!

I dropped to my knees and examined their soot-filled faces—where tears had traced lines through the black dust that caked their skin—making them indistinguishable. Tattered rags hardly covered their bodies and they must have been freezing. Fragile and skeletal––I wondered how they were even alive, let alone when they ate last!

I wanted to ask them who did this. It was pointless, because they wouldn’t be able to hear me. That meant that there was nothing I could do for them. I couldn’t break their bonds of imprisonment or even bring them sustenance. I was dead and had nothing to offer to these poor, starving girls.

A scream sounded, echoing down the dark tunnel. Alert, I stood up and gazed in the direction from which it came. A bad feeling hit me hard, like a punch to the stomach.

She screamed once again and I heard a smack. My mouth opened and I quickly covered it with my hand when I discovered a scream of my own exiting.

The girl ran toward me, her face filled with fright and tears. Multiple bruises covered her skin, as if she had been beaten over and over again. A shoulder was exposed and her shirt torn.

I saw her face more clearly and—and I recognized that it was Sabrina.

I stepped away from her, not knowing what I could possibly do!

This had to be real and it had to be in current time.

“Sabrina!” a man yelled down the tunnel. “You think you can just call the cops!? I’ll show you what happens when you call the cops!”

“No!” Sabrina screamed out again. She sobbed as her body trembled.

The three girls huddled together, fright filling their faces at the sound of the man’s voice. Sabrina tried to join them, but they pushed her away. “Please!” she begged them as she cried harder.

Stomping loudly, he came closer to us. But, who was this man that reigned terror upon the girls? Some sick serial killer? And how did he get into our small city?

Crying out, she begged for him not to hurt her. She tried to hide, but there was nowhere. My heart went numb as I watched Sabrina cry and beg for mercy from this man. Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head in fright.

I have to fix this . . . I have to make things right . . .

Everything disappeared from me and my world went black once again.

Cecily sat on the floor in front of a tall mirror that she had propped up against the wall. She was applying her makeup to be way too dark and her lacy black shirt revealed her skanky red bra. Some rap song played in the background.

“I thought I was returning to Earth!” I threw my arms up and stared at the ceiling. “I know what I have to do now!”

Then, the song changed.  “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2 came on.

Cecily looked at her stereo, confused, as if she wasn’t expecting this song to be playing. I sat down next to her, the white dress billowing around me, and stared at her. I knew where she was going . . . it was to that party.

“You’re going to die tonight,” I informed her.

Cecily looked in my direction. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying. I wanted to believe that she heard me, but I had come to accept the fact that the living couldn’t see or hear the dead.

“I said you are going to die tonight!” I yelled, louder. “And then guess what? Adie dies and so does Hazel—after you get her hooked on drugs!”

Her face paled. I knew the look on her face, for I had felt it a million times before now. I knew her sorrows, her worries . . . the pain that filled her chest and refused to leave, carving a black rugged hole into her soul. I knew her because I was her. “
What?
” she whispered.

In complete shock, I looked around the room quickly. Was this real—was she
talking
to me? Could she possibly . . .

She took a quick sip from a silver flask at her side.

I felt ridiculous trying to talk to my living self, but I had to at least try. What if I could get through to her . . . would it even change anything?

“You can stop this.” My hands folded in my lap, like I was some ambassador from a foreign realm. “Don’t go tonight and everything will be fine. You won’t commit suicide, you won’t kill your best friend or sister, and––” I thought about Kelly. My heart began to sink when I thought about losing him, and I fought the urge to slouch and drop my head.

“I see you.” Cecily’s eyes narrowed, examining
me
for a long second.

My lips pursed as I stared into identical hazel eyes.
Why now? Why can she see me now?
Of all the times I had yelled and screamed to gain her attention, she finally saw me now. In her room. Free from immediate harm—I glanced at the silver flask again—
sorta.
My eyebrow cocked up.
More so . . . why isn’t she more shocked by this?

Then she stood up—me at her side—flask in hand. She meandered over to her drawing, the dark one with the forest and running girl, and stared down at it. Bags gathered under her dimmed eyes, and her foundation plastered face looked exhausted. Matted pink cheeks suggested she was feverish. When she moved her hair over her shoulder I saw the bite from Mr. Leison. I shivered. “This isn’t real. In my need of something light in my life, I’ve created you, a happier version of me. I wish you were real, that you could stop this pain. You’re just a figment of my imagination, a somehow hopeful being, aren’t you?”

“I’m not an imaginary friend or a hallucination,” I stated, leaning my hip against the desk. “And you aren’t crazy—just stupid.”

Laughing, she set her flask down on the desk. “My hallucination is reasoning with me.” She shook her head. “I’m not even high yet.”

My eyebrow shot up and I dared her to argue further. “I’m you, can’t you see that?”

Cecily pursed her lips, annoyed. “You’re my conscience. That is what you are.” A dark smirk twisted onto her face. “Well, screw off already because I’m not listening.”

“I’ve seen the consequences of you dying . . . Cecily Ann Wolf.”

“What are they, then? I get kicked to hell? I know that Adie dies.” Remorse flashed across her gleaming eyes. “Everyone knows that . . .”

“Well, Hazel dies too! She has a nasty abortion because she was
raped
in your place at that stupid party. And the three girls that are being held captive in a mine––they’ll die. I have a strong suspicion about a serial killer, I don’t know who, though. To think that you could stop it all––if you weren’t so selfish!”

She looked away—hiding her face. “How do you know—?”

I stared at her, dead serious, enough to make her stop midsentence. “Lives are depending on you to get it together. Don’t go tonight, Ces.” I stood beside her, the two of us before the mirror now. She stood in front of the mirror and smoothed her hand over her lacy blouse, and then examined the white dress that covered my body. Tears filled her eyes. “You need to save these people. If you’re dead, you can’t . . . I’ve already tried.”

Cecily stared into my face—her old face. “You can’t be real.”

I put my hands out. “Let’s see. Touch me.”

She put her hands up, but backed out of it. “No! You’re not real!”

Pushing my hands toward her, I pressured her into touching me. “Just try!”

“Fine,” she said. She exhaled a deep breath before holding her hands up.

“On the count of three . . . ,” I said.

“One.” We moved closer to each other. “Two.” Cecily started to cut out. “Three.”

Cecily disappeared and I was surrounded in white.

Darkness surrounded me soon after.

 There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The

Distortion is a thing of the past, a particle of the future, and the rippling of any present moment.

The floor is not the most comfortable place to wake up. After sitting up, I rub my aching head softly. It seems that I fell over something and crash landed on my hard floor. Um . . . ouch!

Music is playing, though not very loud. It smells different here, like stinging sweetness. For some reason I recognize the smell and I suddenly want to puke. Why does it feel like I’ve been in a long nap, a nap too good to be true?

More of my purple bedding is on the floor than my bed. The blinds on the window are crooked, like I had woken in the night with a horrible nightmare and ripped them down. I’d had those types of nightmares before, when Papa died.

My phone rings, startling me enough that my heart skips a beat. I crawl across the floor, somehow extremely dizzy, and to the mirror. On the ground in front of it is my phone.

“Yellow?” I answer while rubbing my head, confused. It hurts a lot, and my forehead is warmer than usual. Perhaps I’m sick?

“Purple,” Hazel replies. I notice that sweet-sour smell on my hand when it comes near my face and I sniff it carefully. It’s putrid and I move my hand away, staring at it like it’s covered in acid. There is liquor on my skin—but—but why? “CECILY!” she yells, the phone speaker blaring, causing me to rip the phone away.

“I can hear you just fine!” I bark. Confusion sweeps over me when I see scars running across my wrists. I bring the phone back to my ear slowly. “Don’t yell at me, Hazel. I’m not feeling well. I think something is terribly wrong.” I hide a gasp.

She sounds so impatient, or nervous, maybe. “Dude, are you drunk already?”

“What?” I ask, my eyes widening in shock.

“I’m not letting you drive if you’re wasted,” she warns.

I shake my head quickly, but it makes me dizzy. “I’m not wasted!” I yell desperately. “I’m just confused! I promise!”

“Chill out, Ces!” Hazel laughs—a sound that helps comfort my terrified mind. “I’m confused too! Dude, where are you? You said you’d be here, like, twenty minutes ago.”

“For the party?” I ask, starting to remember what is going on. I feel sick.

Hazel sighs impatiently. “Yes, the party! The one that the duchess invited you to!”

“Yeah,” I remember. At lunch two days ago Sabrina gave me a flyer for the party tonight. She nearly threatened me if I didn’t show. “I fell asleep on the floor. Calm down, child.”

“We gonna go?” she wonders. “You were rather adamant about it . . .”

Glancing into the mirror almost gives me a heart attack. I scream out and almost drop my phone. I look horrible, with black makeup covering my eyes and dark purple lipstick on my lips.

“What?” Hazel exclaims. “What’s wrong?”

“Demon!” I open my mouth to check for a tongue piercing––not knowing how extreme I have become––which luckily isn’t there. A relieved sigh escapes me.

“
Demon?
” Hazel asks as I start wiping the makeup off my face.

What has become of me?

“You know what, give me another twenty and I’ll be there to pick you up,” I say. I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll do, but I’ll be there. I need my best friend! “Promise.”

“Fine, weirdo! Hurry it up!” Hazel laughs. “Loves?”

“Loves.” I smile with relief. I am loved, it’s not the end of the world, and I am not all alone in whatever funky thing is going on with me. I click the end button and hang up.

The first thing I do is finish wiping the gallon-or-so of makeup off my eyes. It looks absolutely horrible! It leaves nasty black circles around my eyes, but then I smell the alcohol on my arm and wonder if the circles are just natural. A shudder courses through me.

I rip the dark clothing off me and throw it on the ground. I dig through my drawers for completely new clothing, and when I go to put a normal looking bra on, I see huge bruises on my ivory chest, which seems too bony. My eyes widen as I gasp. “Where did these come from?”

Clearly, I don’t know or remember what is going on with myself and how I am the way I am. But it is not me! Could possession be real? Because I am sure that a demon imposter was using my body for all sorts of bad things that I don’t even want to know about!

I change my clothes into something that is more . . . me, like some skinny jeans and a blue baggy shirt with a cute belt. This whole bra-showing-through-lace thing is not going to work for me; besides, the cover-up job of the bruises on my abdomen is sloppy. It is obvious that something is being hidden under all that concealer.

Staring at the white ceiling, I outstretch my arms and allow a few tears to leak from my eyes. “What is going on?” I ask loudly, trying to make sense of what has happened. The fan spins and all I get in return is a slight breeze. Not exactly what I was expecting for an answer, but whatever.

Suddenly, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” is blaring through the silent room and I jump ten feet off the ground like a startled cat.

I stumble over myself and the things that clutter my floor to smash the off-button with my hand on the stereo. A sigh releases from me and I am holding my head with my hands. I look around at the cluttered mess, which is the
least
of things to surprise me.

After a quick application of mascara and light eye shadow, I gather all my stuff together and shove it into my patchwork messenger bag before heading out of my room. Looking back one more time, I decide to leave the wooden door open for some reason. I quickly run down the stairs and to the front door.

“Cecily?” my mother asks hesitantly from the other room when I reach the foyer. “Are you okay? I heard a crash.”

Normally, I would roll my eyes and ignore her. But at this moment, it feels good to hear her say my name. I have no idea why.

There is no answer from my lips for her question, but I would probably say no. She would think it’s for reasons other than the true reason––which is from being disoriented and panicked by my demonic shadow––so I remain quiet. They already assume I’m bat-crap crazy, I’m sure.

After placing my hand on the doorknob, I pause for just a second. Usually, I’d run out of here like a five-year-old out of a playpen, seeking sweet freedom from the plastic hell I’d been locked in and the horrible germ filled toys that I’d been forced to play with. But I don’t this time. No, I just listen for a minute.

In the living room I can hear Jema, Daphne, and Adie laughing about something. There is just something that I need to do before leaving. What it is exactly? I have no freaking clue! But their laughter calls to me like a soothing lullaby, one that I haven’t heard for a quite a while.

The three girls are sitting on the floor, as usual, watching old black and white horror movies. I lean against the red wall of the living room and swoop my foot along the small step that leads down. I stare at them with a smile on my face and realize that I have missed them so much––more than I could ever imagine.

“Uh, oh––creep alert!” Adie yells, her brown eyes lighting up with suspicion. Yet, in the very corners of her lips, I see a smile of relief.

Daphne and Jema start throwing popcorn at me. “Back, you demon child! Back to where ever it is that you crawled out of!” Daphne yells in a deep voice. Her orange hair is wildly surrounding her face––and if anything, she looks like she’s the one that walked out of a horror movie.

I take the small step down and stand before them with a grin on my face. The funny thing is that they are completely serious about me being the demon child! Hysterical!

Without any warning, I jump over their bodies and smash all three of them to the ground. “Say what?” I wiggle, making them cry out underneath my weight. “You miss me? You love me? What?”

“Off . . . demon child . . . !” Daphne is breathless from me smashing her lungs. Jegging covered legs kick into the air as she tries to free herself. “You’re killing me, demon!”

After rolling off them, I start laughing. Daphne adjusts her green top when she sits up so that her cleavage is showing once more. “You’re a skank,” I say to her and shock myself at my own words.

“Coming from a drunkard,” she spits back and combs a hand through her luscious orange hair. She sniffs in my direction. “You don’t reek of liquor for once.”

That’s because I rinsed if off my arms and changed my clothes, thanks for asking. “For once?” I ask, after thinking for a minute. “What does that mean?”

“You know what that means, dork. As of the past week, you’re an alcoholic!”

I breathe on my hand and sniff it to check for any signs of alcohol. She is right, but only by a trace . . . “This is worse than I thought,” I whisper, mortified.

Daphne gives me the weirdest look ever. “Um, Cecily?”

“Why didn’t you smack me if you knew I was doing bad things!?”

The three girls exchange confused looks.

“You are acting like you just saw the apocalypse and want to change your dark ways.” Jema sits up on the couch and her hand combs through her brunette hair as her blue eyes pierce through me. She’s rather modest with a long sleeve top and sweats. “Why are you acting so innocent?”

“I’m not acting at all!” Tears suddenly filled my eyes and I stared down at my scarred wrists. “What has happened to me? I love you so much, but here you are accusing me of lying and—and stuff . . . what have I done?”

Daphne laughs, as if amused. “Did you seriously have an exorcism and not invite us?!”

“You’re actually talking to us?” Jema’s blue eyes fill with hope as she stares up at me. “What happened to make you change, Ces?” she asks again, more intensely.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, terrified. “I need my mother. Where is she?”

“Ces, you haven’t talked to us for freaking months!” Adie exclaims and rises to her feet. Her brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail and no makeup covers her big, brown eyes. The orange baggy shirt she wears hangs from her bony shoulder, revealing the strap of a white sports bra. “And you’re dressed normal. What’s happened to you?”

And then I remember. She wore white, she told me to change, she warned me of evil things. “An angel came to me, Adie.” My heart hurt and I made this whiny noise as I started crying. “She said that you died, that Hazel died, that so many bad things would happen, though I forgot somehow . . . . All because I died!”

“But you’re alive before us.” Daphne’s eyebrow rises as she just watches me cry. “Hmm. An angel, you say?”

Jema looks at me oddly. “When did you see the angel?”

I become cross. “Don’t call me crazy! I saw it!”

Jema exchanges scared looks with Daphne. “I believe you,” she says. “Sorry.”

Adie evaluates me closely. “You’re scared.”

“You have no idea . . .” My lip quivers and I cover my face with my hands, sobbing. Adie is right there, arms wrapped tightly around me, whispering that things will be okay. “I don’t want you to die, Adie!”

Daphne and Jema join the circle of hugs. For once, in a long time, I fell whole and loved.

After a minute, Daphne teases, “Honestly, though, I liked the skank look on Cecily––it was hot.” We laughed and sniffled. “Goth-punk worked wonders for you.”

We separated, though Adie kept a firm arm on my shoulders.

Jema’s brow rises. “You’re going be okay, Ces.”

The three crazy girls wrap their arms around me in another group hug.

I look up and find that my mother is standing in the entrance of the living room. The blue walls of the kitchen behind her are soothing. She’s watching our interactions and has the brightest smile in the whole world on her face. “It’s nice to see my beautiful daughter,” she says to me.

“I thought that I would tell you that I’m leaving, just FYI, I guess.” I rub my neck anxiously. Awkward moment! I know she loves me and always has, but I feel extremely guilty for all the crap I put her through.

“Going to that partay?” Jema asks and lightly taps my arm. “Gonna get
crunk
?”

I glare at her for a minute. “No. I’m going to get Hazel. We’re going to crash
your
party tonight.” A smile lifts my face. “There will be no discussion.”

My mom’s eyes fill with relieved tears. “Sounds perfect.” It’s almost a whisper.

“Yeah, it does! Hazel owes me a rematch in arm wrestling. She totally cheated last time,” Adie adds seriously. “I’m going to take her out!”

We laugh at our precious, fragile Adie.

“I’ve had a few months to gain more strength. I’m going to beat her this time!” Adie exclaims.

I feel guilty for pushing them away for that long. There is lots of time to make up for. “Okay, bye!” I yell as I head toward the front door.

“Hey, sis!” Adie yells. “Get me some Twizzlers!”

“Gross!” I make a face. “I’m getting grape Red Vines!”

“Come on, Ces!” Adie pleads.

“Okay, okay,” I cave. I roll my eyes before laughing.

When setting my hand on the door knob, I hear a sound. In all honesty, it sounds like my dog Bandit. This makes absolutely no sense because Bandit is dead.

I step into the chilly autumn night, taking note of the tall tree with changing leaves, and get into the old sedan. The song that comes on the stereo is “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and this time it makes me giddy with happiness and not terrified. Perhaps I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for.