The Haunting of Secrets (4 page)

The second that the nurse’s hand touches the
handle to the closet, a person enters the room, out of breath and
screaming for help. “There you are Ms. Jenkins, thank goodness. No
one is at the desk and I thought you all might want to know that I
just saw a girl running down the street in a hospital gown. I
assume she’s the same one you are looking for. You better hurry,
she’s almost to Main Street, and once she reaches the highway who
knows what will happen to her.”

With a small gasp, Ms. Jenkins runs for the
door faster than any woman of advanced years should run and the
room is once again empty. Grateful for contact averted, I release
my breath, push my way out of the closet, and stand in front of the
only other person in the world I trust with my life, with my
secret.

“What took you so long Dejana?” I ask her,
putting my hands on my hips for emphasis. “I’ve had to face the
demons on my own for at least ten minutes,” I say, clearly put
out.

Exasperated, my best friend in the world
crosses her arms and puts on her best scornful face. “Keep that up,
girl and I’ll make you jump out of the window instead.”

Chapter
Five

~ Gotta Love a Loyal Friend
~

The air from the open window is cool and
crisp against my face as I breathe in the freedom Dejana’s
intervention has afforded me. It only took five minutes on the road
with her, however, to make me wish that I had jumped out the window
after all. That girl is hell on wheels and seems to think stop
signs are only suggestions.

“You know, Dejana, if you wanted to kill me
you could have just left me to the devices of the nurse. Whatever
is in her head has to be better than risking my life on the road
with a person who thinks they are Dale Earnhardt. Who died in a
crash if I remember correctly,” I point out.

“Oh stuff it girl, I busted you out didn’t I?
Where’s the love?” asks Dejana just before she lunges the car to
the left to avoid hitting the curb. No matter how annoyed I get
with Dejana, I could never be mad at her. She has been on my side
from the beginning when we met on the first day of school two years
ago.

The bus was crowded and the air thick with
excitement, fear, and humidity as all of us were about to start
this new adventure called high school. It was my fourth school so I
was kind of used to being the new kid. As usual, I was trying to
keep a low profile sitting in the back of the bus saying nothing to
the other kids, wearing my usual ensemble of gloves, a long black
shirt, and jeans. For a while there I thought I might actually make
it, until a lanky, red-headed boy named Tripp finally noticed me.
He had turned around to look at a car he liked as the bus passed it
and his surprised eyes fell on me.

With a clear look of disgust on his face, he
said loudly, “Hey guys, who’s the new freak back there dressed all
in black?”

Immediately all heads seemed to turn to me,
curiosity gleaming in their eyes. I sunk down into my seat, hoping
that we would get to school soon so everyone would have something
else to focus on. It wasn’t long before the laughing and jeering
began. Though I was used to this, it still hurt. With tears in my
eyes, I looked out the window and pretended not to hear them, which
only seemed to make Tripp angrier.

“Do you think you’re heading to a funeral or
something? And what’s up with your hair?” he spat out viciously. It
was clear he was at a loss as to why someone would dye their hair
such an obviously unnatural hue. Addressing the others on the bus
he yells, “What’s up with freaks like her coming to our school? Why
can’t they just stay in Freakville where they belong?”

In all four schools, it was always the same.
The clean cut kids had no idea what to do with someone like me so
they just put me in the ‘freak’ category. All I could think of was
how unoriginal that was. Can’t they come up with a better name than
‘freak’? Bullies are all alike and all unoriginal. Apparently, this
bully wasn’t finished with me yet.

“So, freak,” he begins again, “what’s up with
the long sleeves and pants? Don’t you know this is Georgia? It’s
seven a.m. and it is already hot as hell. And here you are, acting
like it’s winter.” He smirked, proud of his wit. Turning to address
the ever-growing crowd of turned heads, Tripp continued. “Hey
everyone, let’s show the new girl how we welcome new students.”

Just like that, an invisible switch was
thrown and everyone on the bus started chanting ‘freak’. The effect
was exactly how Tripp intended it to be, devastating.

Embarrassed and alone I slunk back into my
seat, tears welling up my eyes. I could no longer block them out. A
quick look outside showed trees passing by which meant we had not
yet reached the city. The bus was still pretty far from the school.
I was just about to hurl some choice words of my own at Tripp and
the other participants in the freak show to shut them down when a
girl who was sitting in the very front stood up and addressed the
crowd.

In a voice dripping with honey the girl
silenced the mob by simply saying, “Tripp, do you mind coming up
here and sitting with me? We’re about to arrive at school and I
would think that is much more important than bugging the new girl.
Besides, your brother already goes here and I could use someone to
help me find my way around.”

As if pulled by an invisible thread, Tripp
immediately stopped bothering me, grabbed his book bag, and headed
off toward the obviously very popular girl strutting like a
rooster.

Though I was thankful a crisis had been
averted, my anger at the bully still seethed inside me making my
blood boil. I was still considering hurling a few of my notebooks
at Tripp’s retreating back when the girl caught my eye and winked.
I was so thrown off that whatever was on the tip of my tongue
vanished. Just like that, I felt the first stirring of hope that I
might have a friend. Had she done all that on purpose? Could she
really want to help me? Who would have thought a popular girl like
Dejana would want to know me? But I’m thankful every day that she
did.

As the days progressed at school, I
calculated my responses and behavior so that students avoided me. I
ignored the ugly looks and went about my school day soaking up as
much knowledge as I could; anything to shut down the parts of my
brain that continually buzzed with unwanted ferocity. Every morning
I sat in the same corner far away from the big crowds. And every
morning Dejana would come by and try to entice me into a
conversation. Every time I chose not to respond, hoping she would
just pass me by. But still she persisted, talking as if I had
answered her questions and by pretending that I was completely
riveted by the conversation. My lack of responses never seemed to
bother her.

Most of the conversations revolved around
boys; one in particular named Jonathan who was very popular but
just not that into her. Dejana is the type of person who would not
be swayed. She persisted and persisted until one windy day in
October, I decided to finally answer her. As usual, she came to my
corner at seven a.m. on the dot and immediately began a tirade
about Jonathan without so even as much as a ‘hello.’ Why bother
with niceties anyway when I never so much had spoken a word to her
in all that time? However, she had finally broken down my wall to
the outside world that I had constructed so many years ago.

“I see him looking at me in world geography
class,” Dejana sputtered. “He could have sat anywhere but he chose
the seat next to me. That has to mean something! And I mentioned to
him the other day that my favorite color was blue. And guess what?!
The next day he wore a blue shirt! I know he’s into me; he just
doesn’t want to act like it in front of his football friends.”

Smiling I looked up at Dejana, crossed my
arms over my chest and simply said, “Or he was just wearing his
football jersey that they all have to wear on game day which just
happens to be blue. Maybe it was just a huge coincidence.”

After a momentary shock that lasted all of
five seconds, Dejana gathered herself, smiled brightly back at me
and said, “I don’t believe in coincidences. He loves me; he just
doesn’t know it yet,” before turning and walking to her first
period class with a spring in her step. Just like that, I had a
friend.

The car swerving violently to the right and a
loud horn honking brought me back to the present. Apparently, the
car in front of us was going too slow for Dejana’s purposes and she
has no qualms about telling the person behind the wheel how she
felt about it.

“Please for the love of all that is good and
holy, slow down!” I yell, my hands grasping firmly to the handle
above the door.

“Would you please man up, girl? The police
could be chasing us as we speak and you want me to drive like all
the other idiots on the road. Well, no thank you. I’m going to get
you home ASAP. So sit tight, we’re almost to your house.”

After what seemed like an eternity, my house
came into view. I have never been so happy to see it in my life.
Out of respect for Mary, Dejana slowly pulls into my driveway and
shuts off the engine before running around the car to help me out
the other side. Very gently and careful not to let my bare hands
touch her, Dejana slides her arms under me and helps me out of the
car. The effects of the coma have rendered me weak, but I am still
able to walk slowly to the house.

Once inside, we see Mary asleep on the couch.
Too many nights sleeping at the hospital have exhausted her. I tell
Dejana to put a blanket over her to ward off the chill in the air
while I wait for her at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the
banister for support. Once Dejana returns, we move slowly up the
stairs to my room, careful not to make too much noise and wake
Mary. After a bit of arguing, Dejana concedes that she will stay
with Mary downstairs after I’m tucked in for the night. Dejana
wanted to stay with me upstairs, but if Mary wakes up, I want her
to know that I am here and safe.

After the grueling hike up a measly seventeen
steps, I am eternally grateful to see my bedroom. With Dejana’s
help, I crawl into my bed, comforted by the feel of my own sheet
and my head on my own pillow. My exhausted body is reeling from the
abuse it has taken since the bombing, but my mind just won’t stop
buzzing. I cover my eyes with hands in a pathetic attempt to ward
off the unwanted thoughts. I am just about to thank Dejana for
helping me when I am engulfed by vertigo. I yell, “No!” and see
Dejana’s very concerned face hover above me seconds before
everything goes dark and I free fall into the abyss of
memories.

Chapter
Six

~ The Emergence of a Killer
~

The images flooding my already fragile brain
are difficult to process, but they finally break through the haze
and the vertigo passes. I am sitting alone on a cold floor in the
middle of a dark room. I’m waiting for someone with a fierce
anticipation, but I have no idea who. In my grasp is a six-inch
blade, its handle worn and comfortable in my hand. I spin it around
in anticipation, unable to simply sit and wait patiently for what’s
coming next. After a few minutes, I stand up and pace, wondering
for the thousandth time if I should turn on the flashlight I had
brought so I could see my watch. But in the end, I always decide
against it. The flashlight is my victory; my reward if everything
goes as planned.

The creaking of the door interrupts my
thoughts. A sliver of light breaks the darkness that engulfs me,
but I shy away from it in fear that I will be seen. Two people walk
down the old, creaky stairs laughing. I realize instantly that the
girl is blindfolded and this is a game. She has no idea where he is
leading her. I can see the silhouette of the boy with her, but his
head is always turned away toward the girl. Luckily, all is going
as planned. The moment they reach the center of the room, they
stop. The boy whispers something in the girl’s ear that makes her
giggle. I approach her slowly, sleek and silent as a tiger stalking
its prey. Once I am in position, the boy releases her and slinks
back into the darkness, never allowing me to see his face.

I take her hand, hoping she doesn’t notice
that this hand is different from the one that brought her here. I
kiss her hand, playing along with the game that had begun hours
before with my cohort. Though I know time is short, I don’t care. I
pull her into an embrace and revel in the softness of her skin, the
smell of her hair. A sigh escapes her lips as she pulls me closer,
the mystery clearly exciting for her. I kiss her neck softly,
distracting her as I lead her to the final phase of the game. She
arches her neck to give me full access as she allows me to move her
closer to the bed. Since I have every inch of this room committed
to memory, I have no need for light to show me the way. The
darkness is my refuge, the place where I am king.

I carefully push her down onto the mattress;
she giggles as expected, clearly elated by the recent turn of
events. Her laugh intoxicates me. She’s warm and willing but it’s
not enough; I want more. Instantly and savagely, I take the hand I
am holding and ram it into the handcuff attached to the bed. She
screams out in pain and fear; it’s music to my ears. I try to make
quick work of confining her legs before she comes to her senses and
tries to fight me, but sadly, I’m not swift enough.

The fear has finally broken through and she
begins fighting. The nails from her free hand claw down my face and
her feet kick furiously. I’m prepared for this, but it is still
difficult to get her strapped down to the confines on the bed. At
last, her hands and feet are locked tight in the shackles welded to
the bed. She resists, but there is no way she can escape now.
Quickly, I grab the flashlight dropped in the scuffle, flip it on,
and point it directly in her face. There within the small circle of
light I find my salvation, my reward for all of my efforts. I take
off her blindfold and soak in the look of pure terror on her face.
I let it fill me as I relish in the power it invokes. The old
saying is true: good things come to those who wait.