25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Spawn
Have you ever heard someone say ‘everything will be over in an instant?’ If you blink, life will pass by before you have a moment to notice?
I think that's what happened. I’ve had too much fun since Halloween.
Christmas came and went, St. Patty's too.
I already feel the warmth of spring racing toward me, and I couldn't be more excited. Why? Because I graduate this year! In a few short months I’ll walk across the stage, put college behind me, and never have to return.
As long as these past four years have been, I'm ready to get the hell out of here. Move away from students who’ve bullied me for no other reason than being bored.
If they took a moment to exist in my shoes, feel the pain and loneliness I’ve endured, maybe they would be less hostile. And, I dunno, show me kindness, maybe?
Last year, my best friend Chelsea died. Some jerk took her away, ripped us apart, and left me to live this existence alone.
Thankfully the fucker’s locked up now. For once, the system was fast at finding the culprit and delivering justice.
Before we knew it, he was on his bunk, dressed in orange and destined to rot for the rest of his days.
He stole the only person who understood my crazy. Who could see through the mask and knew exactly what to say to lift my spirits. She was beautiful, lively, and I envied her.
Today, I’m headed to her parents’ house.
They’re finally allowing me to visit and take a few things from her room as mementos.
I was respectful of their grieving process, but I’m glad it’s over.
I miss her. If there’s one thing that could have made life more bearable for me, it would be something of hers.
I doubt they'll understand the depth of my gratitude for inviting me into their home to pick pieces that belonged to their daughter and take them with me. If I were her parents, I’d hoard everything and lock it all behind a hundred deadbolts.
You would have to pry my kid’s things from my cold dead hands.
Not them, though; they’re kind and pretty much the parents I never had.
Whatever I find, I hope it will help me feel close to her again. I need it. Being without her has destroyed me.
My drive from Munising to Detroit was unnecessarily long, which, silly me, was made longer when I failed to bring enough snacks to keep me out of the drive-through.
Now a few bags full of trash sit on the passenger floorboard of Grandad Pierce's truck. I’ll tell you, I can’t believe he let me drive it.
This thing is his baby. He’ll have my ass if anything happens to it; I pinky promise to clean my trash out and he will never notice.
At the Adams residence, I ease to a stop at the front curb, next to the mailbox hidden beneath swaths of green ivy.
They own a modest two-story brick home with wooden shudders, a red door trimmed in white, and trees that have gone far too long without a cut.
I’m surprised Mr. Adams hasn’t taken a chainsaw to the few dead limbs amongst the lively ones which are on the verge of bursting with flower buds.
For a few moments, I sit and gather myself. The old engine tinks periodically, its small whinge singing with the melodic chirp of birds nestled high in the trees.
This is it; I’m going to walk up there, look my pseudo-family in the face, and take something of their daughter’s back home with me. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back, or if I’ll want to. I was temporary for them, like I’ve been for everyone else.
Sucking in a determined breath, I yank the keys from the ignition and swing the door open before I can argue myself out of going inside, or how painful this will be.
I can do this.
I’m brave.
I’ve done far worse than look someone in the face and apologize for a death I wasn’t part of. All it takes is one foot in front of the other to march my ass up the landing. With my chin held high, hurt becomes a memory and I make my way along the cobblestone pathway.
Nearly to the door, it swings open. A woman about my height darts out and wraps me in a hold so strong my ribs creak under the force.
"Oh Sadie! It's so good to see you, sweetheart." Her voice shudders. "P...please come in."
The bravado I had point-two-seconds ago sacrifices itself off a tall cliff when her pain clenches around my throat and heart. I wish I could make it go away. It's one thing to lose your best friend, but a child? There’s no imagining how much she’s suffered.
Mrs. Adams leads me inside with our arms hooked together.
We don’t bother with the front door. Not while the entryway invites us deeper into the heart of their home.
Inside, everything’s decked in creams and golds that perfectly match Chelsea’s personality.
I know, without a shadow of a doubt, Mrs. Adams decorated this way to feel like her daughter is always wrapped around her.
Me, however, I’m suffocating.
I know everyone grieves differently, but this...
this is too much. Most days I can't get out of bed—life's easier if you hide under the blankets. You don’t have to face people who tell you ‘haven’t tried hard enough’ to move on.
No one’s there to say ‘she would have wanted better for you’ or fill your head with guilt.
I bit the bullet and forced myself to show my face anyway. This gold-plated home, wannabe heaven’s gates, tomb is what I’ve walked into. This no longer feels like memorializing—it’s erasure.
I need a moment.
"Mrs. Adams, will you excuse me? I need to use the little girls’ room."
"Of course, sweetheart. Do you remember where it's at?"
"I do. Could...could I use Chelsea's restroom?"
She frowns. We know why I’m here, but I bet she's still fighting against her better judgement for allowing me into Chelsea's space. Finally, she gives me a sad smile and nods.
"By all means. I'll see you in the kitchen when you're done."
Without wasting what precious time there is, I bolt up the stairs.
Her room’s the last one on the right. Before that is the door to the shared bathroom connected to the guest suite.
If my heart beats any faster, I’m going to peel out of here like my ass is on fire or I’m competing in a NASCAR race.
I’ve come too far to give up now, but I’m terrified—what if it’s all been a lie and my heart broke for nothing?
I’m brave, though, I won’t let fear rule me.
Reaching the door, I ease inside. Everything’s exactly how I remember it, how we left it. A huge mirror, black marbly floors with silver specks, silver hardware, white walls, a large shower stuffed in the back, and twin doors connecting the two bedrooms.
Unlike the rest of the house, traces of Chelsea still exist here. Her sickly-sweet vanilla body spray, cherry shampoo bottles peeking out from behind an ugly Psycho Bunny curtain, even her toothbrush is still in the cup beside the sink.
Comfort accompanies the sorrow that invades me. In an unbearable world, this bathroom holds enough good memories to blind my grief.
Taking care of my business, I step before the sink to wash my hands as bruise-like shadows under my eyes taunt me. I look as if I belong in the same box as my friend.
Between you and I, I should be next to her. If there was a way to get her back, or trade places, I would do it without a second thought. I'm fucked up. Everything that could be wrong with me, is. Chelsea was one of the very few people who noticed how damaged I am, and still chose to be my friend.
When I was too deep in my head, hiding under hoodies two sizes too big and trauma, she saw me. Bitch made other people open their eyes and see the abandoned and afraid girl. How did I repay her for that? By letting her die alone.
Maybe if I stare long enough…
A few inches in front of me, something tiny and delicate breaks my concentration.
The gaunt reflection I'm learning to hate blurs in my peripherals to focus on the distraction. It’s—it’s a spiderling.
Fine legs wiggle as it lowers from the ceiling.
Bit by bit, it descends until it hangs from the barely-there thread a few inches from my face.
We’re both insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but beautiful as we exist in this space tucked away from a world too distrusting for uncontrollable creatures. Unlike me, it knows no pain, no pressure, no hatred or loss of life—just a harmless baby.
With a gentleness I've not held for anything in life, my lips purse as I blow a soft stream of air in its direction then smile when it sways. Eight hair-thin legs wiggle and reach to the sky at the sudden sensation, wordless in how it protests.
When nature's pendulum begins to ease, I give it another blow. This time it swings further and further. Inching closer to my face where I can no longer track it with my eyes. I take a step back to give the little one a bit more space, not wanting it to hit me, then blow one more little puff of air.
My eyes cross when it approaches faster this time. Nearly reaching my forehead before it races back and smashes against the mirror. Jagged cracks race across the glass in an instant, shattering it into millions of small pieces.
Time slows to a crawl. Fine hairs on my arms rise to attention and flick with the loud snap of an analog clock hanging on the wall.
Then, the glass bows and breaks. I try to catch masses of glass as it collapses.
Small pieces cleave my arms and hands on their way down before a loud crash booms through the room.
Jumping back, my hands snap to cover my ears as I watch it all come down with violence. Fragments fling in a hundred directions and cover every surface before coming to a standstill while I remain frozen—my minced skin bleeding and smearing into my hair.
"Everything okay in there, Sadie?" A deep growl of a voice makes my nerves shake.
"I...uh, yeah. Everything's fine!" I reply, willing my heart to slow.