Most recent chapter: http://bloodyroseandthorn.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-note-see-my-tab-at-top-labeled.html
Most recent chapter: http://bloodyroseandthorn.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-note-see-my-tab-at-top-labeled.html
PART ONE: BEGINNINGS
He bowed his head. Tears weren't for the weak, he knew that, at least on some level. But the tears wouldn't come. In fact, they could not.
A Bible trembled in Dan's right hand. He grasped the bed post and snatched at the Good Book as it slid onto the floor. It landed with a soft cur-plop sound onto the pink carpet.
"It's not pink,"Allie had repeatedly reminded him. "It's mauve. There's a difference, brother dear."
Shifting first on a displaced desk chair, Dan relaxed his jaw, took a breath, and withdrew from his sister's bedside. He eased his hands into the pockets of his navy blue robe and stopped in front of the window.
Here, on a quiet, suburban street of Columbus, Ohio, the first of the sun's warm rays blessed the guilty and the innocent, the poor and the rich, the broken and the whole. Yes, that was life. In spite of every unfair, infuriating, or infectious circumstance, the world kept on spinning along with his watch hands, which told him he'd only an hour and a half to shower and get ready for school.
School? How could he think of dealing with the wild and famously rough teenagers of Westview High? How, when his starving sister lay with an IV dripping into her veins? How could he leave with so much work to be done- scrubbing and washing and organizing, eradicating every trace of the infernal bacteria that had found its way into Allison's wound?
On the flip side, how could he miss the first day of school after the way he'd fought for this position?
Ryan would be here. The hired nurse would be here. And God would be here, wouldn't He? Or had Dan blown it too many times for God to hear his pleas?
Suck it up, his father would say, and Dan had repeatedly done just that; but not without meting enough rebellion fit for self-absorbed dictator...like Mr. Oliver Shields.
He could imagine his sister's silhouette beneath the covers blurring in the presence of tears. He could imagine squinting for a clear picture of jogger on the sidewalk with a dog bouncing along beside her, but imagine was all he could do.
Suck it up.
No matter what he thought or how he felt or what he wished to accomplish, it didn't matter. The world kept spinning. People kept running, jumping over or battling through problems, greeting the crisp morning air with a jog, meeting friends for coffee and continuing their daily business as the future loomed like a mountain chain over bustling cities, remote villages, and desolate places.
So busy were the bodies that ran the land. Too busy to notice the suffering souls, who begged miserably from the sidelines.
Like Allie had silently begged in his blind spot for too long.
An image flashed from shallowly buried memories...an image of Allison, shiny ponytails on either side of her head, her young, smooth face glowing under chandelier lights as her lips pressed against an onslaught of giggles. Her rail thin arms folded in defiance as her food remained untouched and cooling in front of her. Dan hadn't found it funny, but he'd smirked when he'd caught his father's indignant glare.
"I meant for Allison to lose weight, but not like this. You're a bad influence, Daniel," Oliver growled as his honeyed biscuit fell upon his plate.
Dan swallowed hard. He'd been the first one to stop eating at the dinner table, a ploy to annoy their father; but he'd always eaten after the table had been cleared, and he'd encouraged Allie to do the same.
But she began refusing. Over and over again, she'd refused.
Up and down her weight had shifted over the years, no more than a ten pound difference as she'd caved in to the natural instinct to fill that gnawing void inside of her. On and on she'd struggled, while Dan lectured. Just lectured, lectured and lectured.
More action had been needed, not just talk. Instead, he'd spent his spare time chasing Denise, studying, working hard. He'd been too busy to seriously intervene in Allie's life, to persuade their parents to seek help.
How stupid could he have been?
Get going, Dan.
His fists clenched.
Go and handle the business you've been given. Get a hold of yourself.
He'd be home soon enough. Ryan would call him if there were any changes.
What if she starts to go while I'm gone?
She wouldn't. Allison wouldn't die because she'd been stabilized and the antibiotics were working their magic. The doctor wouldn't have released her to a house nurse if she hadn't improved.
He stepped toward the bed and bent over to feel his sister's forehead. No sign of a fever, so he shuffled toward the hall, where he stopped. As though something dark and pitiless had reached through the floor and wrapped its cold hand around his ankle, Dan's foot froze just inside Allie's doorway. He stifled a shiver. And then, he extracted his foot from the invisible paw.
Once he'd slammed himself behind the Jeep's steering wheel, he settled his computer into the passenger seat, and then a string of curses rolled into the stuffy atmosphere.
He jammed the keys into he ignition.
One of Allie's menaces could spread if he and Ryan didn't keep up on the cleaning. According to his research, Allie's frail condition had laid the welcome mat for Staph, the bacteria famous for staying long after the party has ended. Even after antibiotics extinguished most of its buddies, staph would continue to multiply.
With a labored sigh, he wrestled the car into reverse. Wrestled, not because the task was difficult but because of the rift created between his mind and his heart. It took several more moments to pull into the street.
To think that only a few months ago, he'd been flying along on his motorcycle, the engine roaring and wind beating against his visor. He may as well have been riding through the gardens back at the mansion, because the neighborhood was so chockfull of beautifully maintained yards.
At least two-thirds of this town felt like home, even if his two-story house was only about a sixteenth the size of his parents.' For the first time in his life, he could take an evening stroll in a suburban area with no bodyguards following him around, reporting his every move to his parents.
He could breathe here. Finally.
He was free.
Right. Free in one way and bound in so many others.
Allison's captor had tightened its grip around her neck, and she'd fallen as though she'd taken a nip of a poisoned apple. She'd stopped eating all but a small salad at dinner, and sometimes he couldn't even coax her into eating that.
Something must have triggered her plunge. Was it the move? Was it Jeremy? Their parents? Whatever it was, he'd have to find out, because she wasn't talking. For the first time in their lives, she
It wasn't long before the snickering ensued. Bekah gnawed her inner cheek, her shoulders stiffening and heart pounding as she longed to scratch the instigator with Freddy-Kruger-like fingers. OK, maybe not that overboard, but a good slap across the face would suffice, wouldn't it?
Her nails digging into the palms of her hands, she imagined Brian Cruise's wide, green eyes- the shock and the surprise of finally getting what he deserved. He usually led these Make-Fun-of- 'Cheap Rose' sessions and Bekah doubted anyone else had started it this time.
Not only did everyone assume too much about her, but they seemed to thrive on treating her like crap based on their false information.
As if she hadn't suffered enough grief.
She turned to leer at him over her shoulder. Brian, the dumb jock, had slumped in his new seat- lucky her, only four desks behind and diagonal from hers. Happy, happy, joy, joy.
He adjusted his baseball cap over his blonde head and smirked, the gleam in his eyes announcing his un-intimidated state. No matter how hard she glared, he just looked more thrilled, which was totally unbecoming of a big, broad-shouldered football player, who was supposed to be all nicey-wicey with the girls.
Gag, what was she thinking? Jocks were rarely gentlemen, at least in this school.
She faced the front, wondering how long she should ignore the whispers.
Peeking across the room, she found Kevin Murphy seated next to the long row of windows. Today, he wore a black tie and a pink dress shirt. Pink. Of all the colors for a guy to wear to a school like this, why on earth would he choose pink? Not only was it weird, but it reminded her of the nightmare known as her bedroom.
Sky blue eyes narrowed, green leaves waving through the window behind Kevin as he straightened. "Are you OK?" he appeared to mouth.
At first, Bekah released her breath. At least not everyone in this room held a grudge based on idiotic rumors; but still…Bekah rolled her eyes. What was with this tie-wearing nerd? Why did he seem to care so much about her, and where the snot was the new teacher? Only his appearance would shut up the snickers and stop the balled-up papers from being tossed at her.
Bekah cocked her jaw. If this continued, there'd be hell to pay for someone. So, yeah. Teacher needed to arrive immediately.
No one in this room knew what she'd been through over the summer and if they had, she hoped they'd stop with the mockery. She could feel the cheerleaders sneering at her, hear the little remarks like, "I'm surprised she came back this year."
Stupid idiots. Sheeple. Each person following the lead of the most ignorant one.
Her jaws began to throb because she'd been clamping down harder than a zombie's mouth upon fresh meat, and she was sure someone's nose would soon be bloodied.
"Never start a fight you can't finish, you little Spit Fire," her father had warned in the typical, Daddy-O fashion. She could still see him standing in her bedroom doorway, his partially bald head shining under the hall light and his big coffee mug steaming next to his chest.
Always the bearer of neat, little tidbits of advice. Too bad he didn't always listen to himself.
Maybe Daddy needed the freaking bloody nose more than Towers and Brian and everyone else who was currently whispering about her.
"Cheap Rose!" someone hissed, only this time it didn't sound like Brian.
If only she'd the powers of Maggie the Witch, this juvenile behavior would soon end in an eruption of froggies and snakes all over the room. Bekah, of course, would laugh as the cheerleaders leapt upon their desks and-
The door opened and a breeze whisked across the room. Bekah sat back as most of the chatter ceased and a dark-cloaked figure toting a laptop case strolled toward the high and mighty throne known as the teacher's desk.
After blinking a few times, the figure came into focus. Nothing but a man dressed in a black suit and tie. She leaned over her notebook, aware that the glorious new teacher had arrived. Finally, someone to distract all these dingbats while Bekah plotted her next course of action- if there was to be one.
"Hello, everyone, I'm Mr. Shields." The man at the front of the room had removed his jacket and turned to scrawl his name on the chalkboard. As if high school seniors needed that.
Some girls to Bekah's right giggled and, vaguely, she heard one utter, "Nice butt!"
Rolling her eyes, Bekah sank in her seat with her arms folded. Aside from noticing his GQ-ish coif of brown, wavy hair, she hadn't yet studied the new teach, but it didn't matter. It wasn't as though this school had never seen a hot, young teacher before- one that sent all the dimwits into school-girl banter and fainting spells.
Towers had been like that and fat load of help he'd been.
While she tapped her pencil eraser against her notebook, Mr. Shields began bragging that he was 'the best English Lit teacher ever.' And why?
Bekah frowned as the man withdrew a bundle of what appeared to be candy bars from one the compartments in his case. "I come bearing chocolate," he said, passing out treats as though they were a deck of cards.
While most of the sheeple ripped into the paper like a bunch of hungry pigs, one of them complained, "Dark chocolate? Yuck."
"Hey, don't knock it." Mr. GQ stopped about two rows away from Bekah's, the thick stack in his hands drawing a grumble from her stomach.
Heck, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate. What did it matter, as long as it was chocolate? For all Bekah cared, he could have handed her the whole bunch and she'd devour it all before lunch. Talk about a caffeine high- something she desperately needed after missing her morning coffee. And after this morning's pain-in-the-butt fiasco, nothing would be nicer than a mind-numbing dose of caffeine.
Drown the sorrows, drown the pain, Amen. Maybe after school, she'd snag a bottle of vodka from Alice and spend the rest of the night alone in her bedroom. Mommy Dear would probably be working late, anyway.
"Dark chocolate is lower in sugar," said the briber as he snatched more goodies from his desk and handed them to the row in front of him. "And not only is it high in antioxidants, but the caffeine should keep you awake for the remainder of class time, don't you think?"
Except for the sound of ripping paper and a few random snickers, the room became silent and the man hovered right in front of Bekah's desk. The scent of his cologne fell over her. It was nothing like the smell of Towers' Old Spice, but sort of...woodsy. She lowered her pencil. Taking candy from strangers wasn't a good idea and everyone knew that any guy who offered sweets too early in a relationship was after 'one thing.'
Bekah laughed to herself and pursed her lips to keep from mocking this idiot. Though he wasn't trying to bed anyone, Shields couldn't honestly believe he'd win much affection from this offering, could he? OK, the girls were probably already in love with him, but the guys would be much harder to win. She could barely wait to see the look on this naïve, young dude's face when the big oafs in this room finally decided to start harassing the new teacher.
Well…at least she'd finally found something to be truly amused about today. It was always a fight, staying above the darkness, and her depressive side was a pain in the butt.
Tucking a strand of her long, chestnut hair behind her ear, she dared to lift her gaze from the shiny foil and the red sleeves wrapped around the small rectangles in Shields' hands. In return, she received a vague smile that brought just a touch of a gleam to eyes the same color as a Hershey Bar.
"Don't care for chocolate?" Shields asked with one, thick brow raised.
She shrugged. "Who doesn't?" With that, she received the offering and didn't bother turning around while passing the rest to the jerk behind her. She wasn't exactly sure who was sitting there, but she was sure it was a 'he,' because she'd heard him cackling along with the others.
Snorting, the creep received the candy and Shields, looking rather pleased, stepped to the final row to release the rest of his batch.
What a nerd, Bekah thought. But then she noticed the color draining from his face as he turned away. Judging by the way his shoes scuffed across the floor as he retreated, there was no spring in his step to match the cheerfulness she'd heard in his voice only moments before.
She slowly tore open her candy bar. Whatever. Everyone had problems and he was no different. Maybe he was just nervous. As he should have been.
CHAPTER TWO, PART ONE: http://bloodyroseandthorn.blogspot.com/search/label/Ch%202-1