Текст книги "Bad Girls Don't Die"

Автор книги: Katie Alender

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I sat on my bed with the photo. Mildred. Patience.

These girls…they were in my dream.

They were the ones who had chased the little girl in my story. They’d thrown rocks at her until she’d fallen from the tree.

But if these girls weren’t just minor characters in a story I’d made up…if they’d really existed…

I shifted my weight, and the books I’d stacked on the pillow tipped over. The Sawamura paperback fell open. Someone had written something on the inside cover.

Just like Megan, I thought, leaning in to read it.

SHARA C. WILEY, 989 WHITLEY STREET, SURREY CA. SEPTEMBER 20, 1996.

My breath caught in my throat.

Shara had owned that book. And the only reason she would own that book was if there were already something in the house—something evil.

Looking at the neat handwriting, I thought of the whispers that first night, eight years ago…and how they had invited me outside to play. Wasn’t that what Kasey had said to me the other night, when she came into my room? Come play.

I’d been starting to wonder why the ghost chose Kasey and not me.

But something had reached out to me.

And I might have been lured to my death the very first night we lived here, if I hadn’t grabbed on to the necklace—which had belonged to Shara.

When we were inside Mary’s house, near my sweater—in the pocket of which I’d left the charm– Kasey wasn’t able to control me.

“Shara?” I whispered, taking the half-heart out of my pocket and holding it tightly in my fist.

Nothing happened.

But by that point I was completely, one-hundred percent sure…

My charm wasn’t evil. It was good. Shara was protecting me. But from whom?

My hands shook so badly I could hardly get the microfiche slide to sit in the negative frame. I placed the slide inside and set the timer for five minutes, then hit the EXPOSE button. The light popped on.

Only about four articles at a time shone through onto the notebook paper I’d laid flat on the enlarger, and the print was so small that I had to lean in close to read anything smaller than a headline. Nothing. I shifted the negative tray so a different set of articles was in the light. Four more duds. And another four. And then on my fourth try I found it—“WILEY DEATH HAUNTS COMMUNITY.” Ha. If only they’d known. I skimmed the text, but it was nothing new—mainly a human interest piece on the continuing concern of the neighbors, a week after the fact. But at the bottom was a featurette, a miniarticle in its own little box.

I tucked my trembling hands into the sleeves of my sweatshirt and leaned in close to read.

“THE UNHAPPY HOME ON WHITLEY STREET,” said a line of bold text inside the box.

SURREY—It’s been less than a week since the October 15 suicide at 989 Whitley Street, but many neighbors are anxious to put the incident behind them. Most residents regard the death of young mother Shara Wiley as a tragic reminder that no matter how well you think you know your neighbors, there’s always something under the surface.

Several local residents declined to be interviewed for this story, but Francine Besser, 89, of Dennison Avenue, a resident of downtown Surrey in the late ‘teens and early 1920s, recalls another tragedy that occurred in the Edwardian-era four-bedroom house, constructed in 1897 by prominent local merchant Robert Forsythe and his wife Victoria.

Robert and Victoria. The parents from my story. It like the final depressing piece of a puzzle.

“It was really quite something to my mother’s generation,” Mrs. Besser recalls. “Mr. Forsythe even built indoor plumbing before the city provided it– you know, Surrey was just a little country town back then. They were the wealthiest family in the county.”

Local records show that the Forsythes, in mourning over the death of their eleven-year-old daughter, Sarah,

…Sarah? were killed in a fire that destroyed Robert’s warehouse on the west side of town (near what is now the site of St. Viviana Church) in late 1902. Evidence found at the scene led police to conclude that the fire was a result of arson, likely committed by Mrs. Forsythe, whose madness was attributed to her grief, but may well have originated with the lead pipes used in the house’s plumbing, which may also have contributed to their daughter’s recorded behavioral and health issues.

I remembered the hazy, hypnotized feeling of the story pouring out of me, as if I were just a conduit. It wasn’t my story at all—it was a true story. The house’s story.

Back in my room, I picked up the photo, studying the girls’ unsmiling faces, and noticed for the first time that the white border that rimmed the edge of the picture ended abruptly on the right side. A portion of it was missing.

I flipped it over to look at the list of names. Underneath the list was a black scribble–something had been crossed out. I leaned in closer.

Was that an S…? And the second letter could have been an A. The third was an R.

…Sarah.

Someone had wanted to forget she ever existed. They scratched off her name and cut her out of the picture. I studied the edge of the image. Nothing was left that would indicate she’d been in the photo….

Except the small elbow of an arm.

And half the face of the doll it clutched.

It was the same doll from my story, my dream.

Is that what Mr. Sawamura was talking about when he said power center?

Something Sarah had loved so much that she’d held it close even as she fell to her death…?

The doll. What if it was in the house somewhere? And it was taking control of my sister? And what if it had taken control of Shara and sent her into the murderous spiral that ended in her own death?

Kasey’s list. The names. Those were the girls responsible for Sarah’s death—and their daughters and granddaughters and great-granddaughters.

It was a hit list.

I thought about what Kasey had been saying the other day, when I heard her talking to her dolls– She’s new. Think of what she’s been through.

So now I knew what Sarah’s power center was. I knew what she was using to force my sister to help her carry out her vengeance….

I just didn’t have the faintest clue where it was.

Or how to get it away from Kasey without…you know…dying.

24

I felt the day’s events caked on my skin like a greasy film of badness. I desperately needed a shower. I was so worn out that I didn’t hang up my clothes as I took them off. I just left them on the floor next to my bed.

I let the hot water pour over me and closed my eyes in the steam. I spent a few extra minutes just standing there, pretending everything was fine. No ghosts, no guilt, no crazy sister, no breaking Carter’s heart. It was nice.

When I got out, I put on my pajamas and combed my hair, then went down to the kitchen to get something to eat. I stood in the dark with my back to the counter, eating a granola bar. When I finished, I dropped the wrapper in the trash, swept the crumbs into the sink, and looked around the room.

The front door opened, and I almost said something, expecting it to be Mom.

But it was Kasey.

Only it wasn’t Kasey. She moved with a grace I’d never seen in my sister, with a poise that I had to assume was Sarah’s poise, Sarah’s grace. She didn’t see me as she ascended the steps toward the second floor.

I thought she’d been in her room all night….

I didn’t have time to think because just then the garage door rattled open and Mom pulled up the driveway. I pretended to be going through the fridge when she came inside.

“Oh hi, Alexis,” she said.

I closed the refrigerator door and followed her upstairs. When she was safely in her room, I sighed and went across the hall to my own room.

The blue numbers on the clock glowed 12:06. I flipped the light switch.

Nothing happened.

“Isn’t this nice,” said Kasey’s voice from the corner of the room. She moved out of the shadows and came toward me. She cast a glance at the door, and it shut by itself. “Just the two of us together.”

I stood frozen in place.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I did. It was 12:06.

“It’s decision time,” she said.

Past midnight.

October 15.

“I feel…different,” she said, spreading her fingers wide and studying them. “I feel like today is going to be a big day.”

The blue moonlight shone on her through the windows, the panes of the window frame drawing a grid on the side of her body.

“You should too,” she whispered. “Because it’s your last day.”

“Kasey…you made up your mind?” Even in the dim light I could see the green eyes burning.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. Her voice was thin and rasping. “Kasey is gone.”

White-hot fear poured through me.

“I know who you are,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “And I know you’re evil. My little sister might be fooled, but I’m not. And I’m not going to let you have her.”

She raised her eyebrows, like she hadn’t expected me to make this connection.

“Let her go,” I said, trying to sound sure of myself, but my shaking breaths broadcast how afraid I really was.

Kasey narrowed her eyes and spoke in her regular Kasey voice. “You think you’re so smart, Lexi.”

She said Lexi. I nearly passed out from relief.

“She’s my friend. She wouldn’t hurt me. She promised.”

“She’s evil, Kasey,” I said. “Do you think demons keep their promises?”

“She tried to be your friend too. She would have helped you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be her friend, did you ever think of that?”

“It’s your fault she’s even here,” she said. “You’re so mean to me. You pretend to like me, but you think I’m stupid. You treat me like a baby. She’s the only one who cares.”

“Is that what she told you?” I asked.

Kasey hesitated. “Yes, but—it’s true.”

“You know what she’s planning?” I asked. “You know all the work you’ve been doing for her? She’s going to hurt people. And you’ll be the one who gets in trouble. She’s using you.”

Kasey swallowed hard.

“Do you really want to hurt Mary?” I asked. “And the librarian? And us, Kasey, your family? We’re on that list. After you do all of her dirty work, she’s going to kill you too.”

My sister took a moment to consider this, but it didn’t seem to disturb her very much. I took a step backward.

“Don’t try to run,” she said. “You won’t make it out the door.”

Up to that point I’d managed to convince myself that there was a separation. There was Kasey, and there was Sarah.

But it seemed like the line was blurring.

“Kasey, we’re sisters. Why would you hurt me? What would you do without me?”

No reasoning worked better with Kasey than the “What would you do without me?” argument. If I ever wanted to win a fight with her, all I had to do was say something about how awful she would feel if I died, and she would immediately burst into tears and apologize.

If there was any of that codependent instinct left in her, I wanted it on my side. Maybe I could bring her back through the magic of guilt.

“The thing is, Lexi…” She stiffened and took a step closer. “…I’d be fine without you.”

She put her hand on my shoulder.

Her touch was like a hundred bees stinging me at once. I tried to back away and stumbled, falling against the wall for support. Still, she didn’t move her hand.

She was drawing the energy—the life?–out of my body. The world spun and my head started to ache. I lost my balance and slid to the ground, landing on my forearms and knees, like a baby crawling. Kasey knelt at my side, her fingers still locked in place.

She’s really going to kill me.

I braced my arms against the rough carpet, trying to keep my head off the floor, as the whole world moved in waves. It was like being on the deck of a boat in the middle of a storm. I couldn’t tell which way was up. My hand hit the bed with a thud.

Nausea rose up inside my throat—I tried to force it back, tried to take a deep breath—

But I couldn’t breathe. I tried again, opened my mouth and attempted to swallow huge, gasping breaths. But even though I could taste the air, sweet and cool on my tongue, I couldn’t force it down my throat and into my lungs.

I was drowning, sinking…dying.

“No, stop!”

It was Kasey’s voice. She seemed to swing past me like a pendulum, her wide blue eyes so close to my face, her clawlike grip still burning into my shoulder.

“Stop, you’re hurting her!” she cried.

A memory flashed into my head—the cool, smooth-edged feeling of the heart charm against the skin of my palm.

The heart.

It was the only thing that could help me. My arm thrashed around like a fish out of water, finally hitting the rough knit of the sweater I’d left on the floor. I reached into the pocket and felt the silky length of ribbon.

My fingers groped for it, and my vision started to go gray. A horrible pounding sound echoed inside my head.

Finally, just as I was about to give up, my finger made contact with the smooth metal. I grabbed it and slapped it wildly against the top of Kasey’s hand. She gasped and let go of my shoulder.

Air came rushing back into my lungs.

The throbbing whooshes went silent, and all I could hear were Kasey’s soft sobs. She’d scooted a few feet away and was holding her hand protectively near her body.

I wrapped the ribbon around my hand and thrust my arm forward, the flat of the heart making contact with my sister’s bare foot.

She jerked her head up, stared at me through shocked eyes, and then went limp and passed out, slumping sideways onto the carpet.

Every breath of air was like a piece of sandpaper rubbing against my throat. I had to call Megan and tell her. I had to call out to Mom.

But I collapsed.

Darkness washed over me.

25

I AM LOCKING THE BACK DOOR. I am locking all the windows. I have closed all the drapes, like she told me to.

“Mommy,” Megan says, “I’m hungry.”

I can’t help but feel annoyed—can’t she see I’m busy?

But then I turn and look at her, and something inside me warms a little. I kneel next to her and take her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, baby,” I say. “I’m almost done, and then we’ll have a snack, okay?”

Megan nods, but then the headache hits, and everything goes black for a moment.

I open my eyes to see Megan watching me, her thumb in her mouth.

KEEP GOING.

“Leave me alone!” I yell, trying to get the sound of it out of my head. Megan cowers. “No, sweetie, no, not you….”

KEEP WORKING!

I’m like a puppet, doing as she commands, going from room to room, locking doors and windows behind me. Megan trails a few feet back, watching me. It has never been this bad before. Megan tries to grab on to the hem of my skirt, but I push her away.

YOU HATE HER.

And for a second, I do. I look at my daughter and feel a burning hatred. But it flares out like a match, and all that’s left is guilt, sorrow, fear. Horrible fear.

A few minutes later the job is done.

GO TO THE KITCHEN.

I do, although I don’t know why.

GO TO THE OVEN

BLOW OUT THE PILOT LIGHT.

No—no—

But I can’t stop myself from obeying.

TURN ON THE BURNERS. ALL OF THEM. TURN ON THE OVEN. OPEN THE OVEN DOOR.

And I’m crying, and Megan is crying because I’m crying, and she’s patting my back and I’m terrified because I feel pulsing hatred for her. I’m disgusted by her touch.

I shy away from her and look down at her little arm. I see the bracelet Mom gave her, the half of a heart, the one that fits together with mine. I reach out and touch the bracelet. I lift her wrist toward my mouth and kiss her hand.

Then I stand up and take her by the arm and drag her to the foyer, and she’s screaming and crying and trying to get away and asking me, “Why? Why? Why?” NO, says the voice.

But for once I’m stronger than the voice, and I unbolt the front door and push Megan outside.

“Mommy!” she screams. Her face is red and splotchy and she’s crying so hard because she doesn’t understand.

“I love you, baby,” I say. “I love you so much.”

And then I close the door and dead-bolt it and fasten the chain and crawl back to the kitchen. The air is heavy with the smell of rotten eggs. I take the stack of doll photographs from my pocket and start tearing them to tiny pieces. Close-ups of her face, her mangled hair, her chipped hands, her stained underclothes. She’s hideous. Why did I ever think she was beautiful?

Megan thumps on the door and knocks and knocks, but I can hardly hear it because the voice in my head is screeching at me, cursing me.

I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND, YOU DON’T LOVE ME…

When the photographs are shredded, I crawl to the trash can and drop them inside.

I take a deep breath, and the voice gets lower and lower and finally disappears. The burning green eyes that have watched me so closely for such a long time go dim.

The last thing I think of is how beautiful Megan looked the day she was born, when they placed her in my arms for the first time, and I realized at that moment that I would lay down my life for this tiny person.

And then I take one last deep breath and fall asleep.

Forever.

26

TAP TAP TAP

Mom’s knock. I’m alive.

“Alexis, are you awake? You’re going to be late for school.”

She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

I’m on the floor.

“Honey, time to get up.”

I turned my head, feeling the carpet fibers drag against my face—but that was nothing. I had a headache that was like a thousand little mallets pounding on every part of my skull.

“Alexis?”

“I’m good, Mom,” I croaked. “I overslept.” “I have to leave for work now.” I pictured her standing on the other side of the door, her hair neatly blown dry and pinned back, her clothes tidy. “Where’s Kasey?”

“I haven’t seen her. I guess she’s still asleep.”

“Okay, love you,” I said, rolling onto my back and pressing my palms over my throbbing temples. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said. “Love you too.”

I waited until I heard the car pull out of the driveway, and then I forced myself to get up off the floor. I had some serious time to make up. I slipped on my jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and reached into my sweater pocket for the heart.

That’s when my dream came rushing back to me.

“Shara,” I whispered, putting it close to my lips. “I know you saved her life.”

I had to find Megan and tell her the truth about what happened that night.

And I needed her necklace. If just one half of the heart had scared Sarah off, two might be sufficiently powerful to hold her at bay—at least long enough for me to find the doll.

I went across the hall to the bathroom and flipped the light switch.

Add to the list of things I never knew about almost suffocating: it can cause blood vessels under the surface of your skin to burst, forming bruises. The girl staring back at me when I looked in the mirror had disheveled pink hair and two black eyes.

I opened the medicine cabinet, took out a bottle of Tylenol, popped one in my mouth, and swallowed. It stuck in my throat, but I forced it down.

I ducked into my bedroom and closed the door. Then I picked up the phone and dialed information.

“St. Margaret’s Hospital,” I said, and waited for the call to be connected. When the receptionist answered, I asked for room 412. It rang three times before Dad picked up.

“Hello?”

All of a sudden there was a lump in my throat. “Hey, Dad, it’s Alexis.”

“Hi, honey!” he said. “Thanks for checking on the old man. When are you gonna make it over here?”

“Um, soon,” I said. “I just was thinking about you, though, and I wanted to call.”

He was quiet. “Lex, is everything okay?”

“Mostly,” I lied.

“Listen, sweetie. Being in this accident…I’ve been thinking. And I want you to know that you and Kasey and Mom are the most important things in my life. Maybe sometimes I act like I don’t feel that way, but…I’m going to try to be a better dad.”

“You’re a good dad,” I whispered.

“So…yeah, well, you should skip that stupid parade and come see me.”

I swallowed hard. “I wish I could.” I wanted to go see him at the hospital, give him a hug, tell him I missed hanging out with him. But there wasn’t time. “Hey, Dad? I better go.” “Okay, sweetie. I’m glad you called.” “Me too…I love you.” “Love you too.” I hung up.

It took a few deep breaths to regain my composure, but finally I pressed my shoulders back, held my chin up, and opened the door.

Kasey, her hair mussed and her eyes glazed over (but blue), stood at dazed attention, like a zombie prison guard.

“You look terrible,” she croaked. I didn’t answer. I just reached into my pocket for the heart.

She didn’t flinch, but she also didn’t come any closer.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to find Megan?” “Maybe.”

Her eyes flashed green for a millisecond. “I wager I can beat you there.” I shrugged.

“Actually,” I said, “you might want to stick around here.”

She made a rude sound and grimaced as she stretched her neck to one side. “And why is that?”

“Just to make sure nothing happens to your doll.”

That got her attention. “What about my doll?” she demanded.

“Nothing specific,” I said. “I just wouldn’t leave her on her own, if I were you.”

She shook her head, her nostrils flaring. I held the heart in front of me like you’d hold a cross up to a vampire.

“You don’t even know where she is,” Kasey said. “I hid her.”

“I found her last night,” I said. Kasey exhaled slowly.

“That’s how I know that her right thumb has a chip on the fingernail,” I said, trying desperately to remember details from Shara’s photos in my dream. “And her eyes are dark green, but when she’s mad, they glow.”

Kasey’s threatening face had turned fearful.

“And most of her hair is cut off, but there’s one big piece that hangs over her ear.”

“Stop!” Kasey cried.

“But you should go,” I said. “Go to the parade. Go back to city hall.”

She backed away from me and shook her head. “You can’t stay away forever,” she said. “Maybe I’ll just hide in the bushes and wait for you to leave,” I said.

“Get out,” she growled.

She followed a few feet away as I went down the stairs. As I put my hand on the doorknob, she made an exaggerated sigh.

“I hope I don’t have to do anything terrible while you’re gone,” she said. “I hope I don’t decide to punish your sister.”

I looked up at her.

“The way I punished Shara.”

My confusion must have shown on my face.

“Go on, Alexis,” she said, her voice light. “Your sister probably won’t be dead when you get back.”

I said a quick prayer to whoever might be listening, and then I slammed the door closed behind me and ran.