Something Wicked Here Lies
Rachel ran a pale, shaking hand through her long, chestnut brown hair. The long mirror reflected her features back at her, it's plain, black frame was dull and chipped. A person who she wouldn't have recognized three months earlier was staring back from the other side, her huge brown eyes were wild and glassy, her cheeks sunken and her face colorless. The black sweater, which should have been snug, showing off her smooth curves, was now hanging from her thin, cutting shoulders. From the sharp V of the neck, her collar bones ridged out harshly and a heavy, glittering silver chain holding a dark, bruised crystal hung in the hollow between these ridges. She raked her hand back through her hair again, shifting her weight to her other foot nervously. Three sharp, shallow knocks came from her door behind her and she twirled around, pulling her sweater back on her shoulders.
"Yes?" she called, closing her eyes, concentrating on keeping her voice from wavering.
"Rachel.....are you okay?" her mother's voice was not kind and gentle, as most mother's would have been, it was cold, harsh, and commanding.
Rachel cleared her throat, twisting the plain silver ring around on her finger, a nervous habit. "Yeah mum. I'm fine."
"I just got off the phone with Officer Dawson. What do you have to say for yourself?" her voice was low and she finished her sentence with a high, irregular note.
Rachel moved closer to the door, to be able to hear her. "I don't know....I'm not sure what Mr. Dawson had to say, but whatever it is, it was probably me."
The door knob, twirled and stopped dead. Twirled again and stopped. "Open this door right now young lady!"
She backed away from the door, half sitting, half falling down onto her bed. Feeling her heart quicken, her chest constrict. "Nnn..nnn...no." She stuttered, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
There was silence from the other side. Cars honked their horns outside her window and she could hear her own breath and heart, one heaving and shallow, the other thudding inside the thin walls of her chest, as if it might break out and run away from this nightmare.
"Fine. Just you wait till your father gets home. Then your gonna get what you need. He'll straighten you up good."
"He's NOT my father!" Rachel yelled back. She closed her eyes and saw dark black and blue spots floating past her vision.
"Shut up girl. You just watch what you say, you hear? You hear me!" her mother answered, screaming now.
Rachel covered her ears, pressing them hard till they hurt. "Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!" she cried back, not allowing the tears to fall that threatened behind those blue and black spots.
Her mother gave a cry of frustrated fury and Rachel listened as she stormed off down the hall, the door at the end of the hall slammed, shaking the collapsing, old house.
Rachel sat there, shaking with terror. Then a new feeling came, overpowering her terror. Anger. Deep and black and hateful. Covering the shame, sadness, and unnatural control. Awful, but comforting, powerful, anger. Her bony hands dropped from her ears and she stared at the door. No longer shaking, she stood up. Anybody who might have been standing at her window, watching from the darkened streets outside, would have been utterly frightened to death by the powerful hate radiating from this 16 year old girl, unless of course, that person was the source of this anger.
Her hands balled into fists at her sides and she turned her face to the mirror, the candle light casting eerie, yellow flashes on her. And then she smiled and one balled fist jerked out, smashing the shiny, white glass. Shards of it flew out, tinkling onto the wooden floor. Some splinters landing, black side up, others landing reflective side up. Blood dripped down from her knuckles, spotting the floor around the slivers. She smiled again and lifted her hand in front of her face. Staring, amused by the dark liquid. It almost had an oily color to it. Rachel stuck out her tongue and licked on of the trails that had made it's way down, past her wrist, snaking down her forearm. She closed her eyes, tasting the bitter, metal taste.
Footfalls, heavy, in the hall came now. "Rachel! What happened in there?!" Her mother's voice demanded.
Rachel giggled and licked some more of her own blood, not answering.
"Rachel Chiles! I'll break this door down if you don't open it right now!" The door knob was twisting in vain again.
She jerked her head up suddenly and stared at the sound. As if hearing her mother's calls for the first time. Her eyes had taken on an unhuman glow, her lips twisted into a horrid grin. Blood was smeared across one side on her bottom lip and she raised her other hand, swiping the back of it across her lip. Then she looked back to the shattered glass on the floor at her feet, looking each piece over.
"Rachel!" her mother's voice was panicky and she was banging on the door now.
She ignored this(or didn't hear it) and bent down, picking up a long piece of glass. One end was blunt and wide, but it narrowed to a sharp point at the other end. Rachel's smile broadened. The blood was clotted on her hand now and she held the glass in that hand.
"Open up! Right now!" her mother's voice came faint, her fists pounding on the door now, shaking the frame.
She examined the glass, clutched in her fist, pointed end toward her. Now if anybody would have been watching them might have screamed, fainted, or gone mad with what was about to happen.
Rachel lifted the glass to her face, bringing the point up to her open eye. Without hesitation she shoved it into the gummy, softness. Fluid squelched out, clear and thin, it ran down her cheek. She placed the palm of her hand against the flat end and pushed it all the way in. For a moment she stood there, the clear liquid dripping down her face, fresh blood from her hand was twisting down her arm again. And then she smiled and fell to the floor with a hollow thud.
And out in the hall her mothers voice was drowned out by the squeal of tires on an old, rusted out police car as it sped away from in front of their house.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Chiles. All we can say is that it was suicide. Plain and simple." Mr. Dawson placed a hand on her shoulder, "Since you don't want a funeral, we will take care of the body. Give it a burial."
"Simple?! How can you say that? My daughter shoved glass in her eye!"
"Please calm down. We have arranged for you to see a therapist, so perhaps you would like to go there now?" He answered, smoothing his hair back and putting his hat back on.
"No. I don't want to. I think she was involved in a cult or something.....Rachel always wore this crystal on her neck...a purple one. Sometimes she would hold it in her hand and become almost catatonic."
Dawson looked at her with concern, "Yes, we took it as evidence." His hand went to his pocket where the crystal rested.
"As evidence? Why would you need it for evidence?" Mrs. Chiles questioned, her eyes growing suspicious.
Officer Dawson smiled, "Thank you for your cooperation Mrs. Chiles. I am deeply sorry for what happened to young Rachel. She was a charming girl." Then he turned and left, without answering her inquiry.
Velvet tossed her head toward the cop with stubbornness. "I'm not going with you. I didn't do anything wrong."
Officer Dawson smiled broadly, "Well of course you didn't do anything wrong. But I don't think a pretty young girl like yourself should be walking alone at night." She backed up a few steps from the window of the cop car and looked at him suspiciously, "I'm not alone.....my boyfriend is just in the store there." She pointed toward the 7-eleven behind her.
"Oh. I see. Did you know Rachel Chiles?" He asked, his smile disappearing.
"Yes." She backed up some more, digging her hands into the pockets of her pullover.
"That was pretty awful huh? She must have been on something." He leaned back in his seat, as if thinking. "You look a lot like her......" His voice trailed off.
"Oh really. I'm going now. You can't arrest me." Her voice quivered.
"Well, actually Velvet I can. But, if you will take this, and wear it, I will let you off." He held out his closed fist, palm up.
Velvet stared at him, "How did you know my name?" Her voice was caught in the wind and swept away.
He opened his hand and in the moonlight the purple rock sparkled and Velvet was caught in it's beauty. She moved forward and took the jewel in her hand.
"So. All I have to do is wear this. And you will leave me alone?"
"Yes. Put it on."
She slipped the chain around her neck and dropped it into her shirt. Officer Dawson smiled again. "Goodnight now. I will be seeing you around. I'm sure of it." He said, before easing the car back onto the street and driving away.
Velvet stared after him, shaking her head with wonder. He was a weird guy, but she got a really nice necklace out of it. She could feel it's weight against her ribs. Reassuring almost. She turned and peered in the window of the store, watching Seth at the counter. Then she caught her reflection and a shudder ran, involuntarily, down her spine. Something was not right.
Jeff Dawson tapped his finger on the steering wheel and began to whistle. Velvet was perfect. Just like the rest of his collection. It was too bad though, that Rachel had to wreck her nice brown eye.
Power from Below (not finished)