Play - ‘Wait - M83’
“ W ow. This really does look like a junkyard.” Kacey blurts out as we drop our belongings on the gravel outside the car door, glaring like she’s slightly terrified.
“Hey!” I scowl at her, nudging her in the shoulder playfully as I shake my head, clutching the letter in my hand as I look at her grave.
Since reading her letter, it took some convincing but Kacey and her parents allowed me to go through the paperwork and get her home in my name, so it’s now officially mine and I can’t remember the last time I smiled this big as I stare at it in its miserable state, overgrown and even more tatted with broken walls and dirty exterior. It needs heavy TLC but that is ok.
Being here feels like my missing piece has finally slotted into place. The place I should loathe has unknowingly been my cure. I didn’t come back, purely because I was not allowed, not because I didn’t want to. But it’s been two years and the house was left to me so I’ll be damned if they try to keep me away from it any longer. I belong here. With her. With our memories and our trauma embedded in the paint and soil.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She questions me softly, rubbing my arm as she smiles delicately.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
I can feel her, she’s right here with me and it’s making my eyes water as the familiar air wafts under my nose and through my chocolate hair that I’ve refused to cut, no matter how much Kacey pleads to chop it off. My hair is the only remnant of our growth I have left. I play with it excessively, almost ripping it out as if it's a coping mechanism but I guess that's better than drinking or drugs.
“My skin is crawlingggg.” Kacey has matured rapidly in the last couple of years, but you will never take the privilege out of her. This place must be making her feel like a peasant and I can’t help but snigger as she rubs her skin trying to shake her chills.
“You scared of ghosts Cici?”
“Rara!”
“I’m kidding! There are no bodies buried on the property. I promise.” She rolls her eyes, clutching to her bags as she picks up my belongings off the stone. The same stone she pinned me down on with a gun in my mouth and I flush strawberry red at the thought.
“Well that's comforting.” She didn’t have to come, I told her I’d go on my own but she insisted she come with me and it was weirdly comforting, knowing she is willing to step into my trauma with me full force without judgement. “SO! You gonna give me a tour or what?”
Something inside me ignites, realising I’m about to walk back in and I thought I’d be terrified but I feel strangely content as I look back at Shep who's practically jumping out the window trying to reach the house. He knows where we are and as I open the car door he bolts for the porch like his life depends on it. I grab my bags and we make our way towards the door where he's impatiently waiting, whining as he claws underneath it. I open it with the key she provided me and the door creaks open revealing the heart of the house as well as the grave, trying to suppress those memories only to realise that suddenly I cannot feel that weighted pressure or see her blood on my hands anymore. We are moving forward Alo…This is good. This is a good thing. Just breathe.
Call me crazy but I can still smell her like she’s standing right next to me. I’m about to throw the whole painting idea out the window just to hoard the smell as long as I can, hoping it seeps into the walls a while longer, shutting the door quickly to trap it in and Kacey looks at me in shock, trying to slip a silly smile when Shep immediately lays in a specific spot that takes my breath away.
The spot she lay as she died in my arms.
“Where am I sleeping?” She pulls me out of my thoughts as I pick up my jaw and if I am honest, I was so fixated on getting here that sleeping arrangements weren't exactly on my list of priorities, nor did I think she would even want to stay, it’s why she followed me in her own car.
“Cici, you don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine I promise.” I grab her hands, looking up at her to try and make her see that I am totally fine. I haven't felt this good in a long time.
“You meannnnn, leave my best friend here in an abandoned bungalow that was previously owned by a literal serial killer that, did I forget to mention, was my best friend’s girlfriend and could kidnap you while you’re sleeping in ghost form? No thank you. I’m staying.”
I let a little snort slip, followed by her cute little laughs as we imagine being kidnapped by a ghost of all things and laughing feels so good. I forgot how much it warms your soul, feeling more comfortable laughing now that I’m where I belong, and she can see me laughing only for her.
“Fineeeeee.” I drag out a sigh, smiling with her and I’m so grateful I have had her through this. She’s made it bearable.
“Is this really where you stayed for eight months?” Her eyes wander but for once I don’t see judgement. I just see empathy and sorrow which I’ll admit is slightly strange coming from someone so hot headed and cold to anyone that is now not me. Especially a serial killer she has had to warm to over the years. It’s the only way I could remotely cope but I’ve still never told her too much. All she knows is what she’s read and she has never been a reader, she said it was for nerds. She’d rather hear it from me or she’s read bits and pieces on the internet.
I nod sincerely as she gawks over at the kitchen.
“Is that the infamous kitchen islandddd?” I suck in my lips, trying to contain my embarrassment feeling my cheeks burn and she glares at me to spill as I just barely nod a yes. “Rara!!! Was it good?…”
My lip falls beneath my top teeth, grazing it at the thought and I suddenly don’t feel nausea creeping up my throat when I think about her worshipping my body, smiling a little harder at the relief as I look over to the kitchen. The sun leaks through the forest of grass outside the back window barely letting it in and suddenly we are baking cookies and she’s licking the mix out the bowl.
“More than good.” I say coyly, trying to mumble, realising that we have never had this sort of conversation before even though I’d sit there for hours listening to her talk about her sex life. Now that I can finally reciprocate it feels so strange. Girlhood really is peculiar.
“You know, now thinking about it, getting down and dirty with a serial killer doesn't sound so bad.” Her fingers find her chin, pulling the smuggest face and I want to say that’s gross, but I hold my tongue, realising why she’s even considering it. If there is one thing Kacey likes about Hayden. It’s that she loosened me up and made me live a little.
“What! All rugged and dangerous! It’s kinda hot. Better than the idiots I sleep with. Sounds like you had a better sex life than me while you were awayyyy.” I guess I did? “I like this new you.”
She looks at me, this time a little more seriously but it takes me a little to clock on as I reply.
“You meannnnn, the sad and depressed version?”
“No. I mean the fearless version. You are changing lives Alora. You’re inspirational. Never forget that. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through but you survived and you’re here, sharing your story and helping others view the system differently.” My eyes perk up, quickly losing the humour as I catch her in what I can only describe as a vulnerable moment from her. This is rare. But she soon catches onto her own behaviour, squeezing me tightly as she pulls me in with excitement and she whispers.
“Did she really have a split tongue?!....” I bead my eyes at her, scrunching my brows in confusion but not at the question. At the way she’s talking.
“Why are you whispering?” I ask with soft amusement.
“Because. She might hear us. She’s in the walllllls.”
Suddenly, being haunted by a ghost doesn’t sound so bad. And it warms my heart how she’s being about all of this. How normal she’s being when I know this is by far the strangest friendship she’s ever had. Wallowing with a depressed best friend who’s mourning over a serial killer in a creepy bungalow in the middle of butt fuck nowhere who is my ex-girlfriend probably wasn’t quite what she was signing up for the day she hugged me outside the police station. But a lot has changed since then. We've grown, individually and as friends, and I wouldn’t be here without her pushing me to keep going.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I wanna know everything. Spill the tea!” I guess it’s about time we did what girls do. Exhaling my dignity.
“Grab a beer and I'll tell you everything.” I exclaim and her face lights with beaming excitement as she jumps for the crates in the back of my car, leaving me alone to take in the place I will now spend the rest of my life, until I decide to finally be with her. But today is not that day. I heard you baby.
I glide my fingers against the thick dust laying on every surface and I can feel her behind me, breathing down my neck.
“Why on earth did you bring Corona? It’s vile!” I roll my eyes as I look over at her in the doorway, knowing why I brought the beer she probably hates the most, chuckling as I lean over the island.
“Call it, n ostalgia.” She doesn’t question me, only staring blankly at me, blinking slowly a few times.
“I’m not even going to ask.” Oh she will. And I think I’m finally ready to tell her all about it, as I make my way over and brush the sofa down to sit, patting for her to sit next to me watching her face scrunch as the discomfort weighs heavy, smiling through it.
“Here's toooooo. Alora and her crazy sex life with a murderer.” We exchange a heated but absent glare at one another before bursting into laughter.“And Hayden. I know you can hear me. Thank you for not killing my best friend. I’ll look after her. I promise.” I don’t even register the tears beginning to stream from my eyes as she wraps her arm around me, squeezing me for a big embrace.
“To new beginnings!” I guess this is. A new chapter of my life without her in it. But now? Somehow, breathing is a little easier. And I can see tomorrow. I can finally see a new dawn. Whether she is not physically next to me. I know she will be watching over me. And that? That is enough for me. I promise I will look after your soul until my last dying breath. We are one. And our story has only just begun.
“I’m home Baby.”