Agatha Woods

Chapter Two - A New Beginning

October 26th Wednesday

Dear Diary,

It has been six months since the.....God, I don't even know what to call it, accident, incident who even knew. It still hurts to talk about it, my therapist says it gets easier but how does it. How does life ever fucking get better after seeing your best friend like that? I haven't slept since that day, I don't eat much I can't, and anything I do eat eventually comes back up...I miss you Jaimee 💔

******

My head pressed against the cold glass of my dad's station wagon's window. I watched the trees grow denser and the fog wrap its thick fingers around the passing terrain as we drove by. Glancing down at the diary in my lap, I began tracing the lettering on the front with my fingertips, slowly, doing this somehow made me feel better, made me feel grounded and alive.

"Hang in their life's a peach, ' it read. I smiled for a split second thinking I'd send the inspirational words to Jaimee and see what she thought, but the smile quickly faded when I remembered I couldn't. There would be no texting Jaimee the funny saying and telling her how stupid therapy was...I could never tell her again....... I began to silently cry. As the tears cascaded down my cheeks my mother began to speak from the passenger seat.

"So, she paused trying to find the right words. "Are you excited to go to a new school?"

Others who may have been through something as traumatic as I had would scream and maybe even hit my mother for her insensitivity. But not I, I knew my mother she was just trying to make everything go back to normal....it was her way of coping. But her question hurt too much to answer, I remained quiet, staring out of the car window.

"I'm sure you'll meet lots of new people, maybe make some new friends....., wincing at her own words, she quickly tried to fix what she said. "not that anything was wrong with your old friends, I mean meeting new people is always good." She knew it was a weak attempt to fix what she said but at least she tried it was more than I could say for my father lately.

My father was no longer himself. He was quiet, more withdrawn since the incident. He was always in his office on the phone speaking to someone in hushed tones, he only ever came out anymore for bits of food and drink then back into the office he went. Now driving us all in the car there was no office he could hide in yet, that changed nothing. He drove eyes forward hands clenched on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white and threatened to burst any second. I blew on the glass and wrote the words HELP ME, in my breath, maybe someone would...soon.

It wasn't long before we arrived in the small town of Agatha Woods, the town was indeed small as we drove through it to get to our new house, I noticed small mom and pop stores along with basic old diners and the school building. Which stood towering above all else in the tiny town. It looked creepy, old and broken down with vines covering almost every inch of surface. I hated everything here, I hated our house the most. When we arrived after traveling another dirt road, for what felt like an eternity. The house came into full view, exiting the vehicle which my father parked in the gravel driveway I noticed just how eerie the house really was up close.

It was a dark oak color, with a large southern style front porch with a chair swing attached to the roof. The stairs leading up to the porch groaned with each step I took, threatening to collapse at any second. I stopped before opening the front door, it was a double door doorway with gargoyle heads as door knockers. It was SUCH a weird place, everything about it screamed horror house. Carefully I turned the doorknobs and swung open the doors. Dust rose from the ground and immediately sent me into a coughing fit.

"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, UGH! I hate this fucking house already."

Probably such a teen thing to say but I couldn't help it I felt like a freak already. Starting a new school as the weirdo girl was enough I really didn't need the creepy house accessory too. I quickly scanned the area and took in the rest of the house, the floorboards, though the same dark oak as the outside of the house you really couldn't tell through the thick layers of dust on the floor. There was old vintage style furniture still covered in white sheets, old paintings on the walls, and a grand staircase right in the middle of the room. It looked like a castle inside a cabin it was really old. making my way up the steps I looked up and down each corridor until I found an empty room, we'll semi-empty.

There was a single circle window with a steel frame bed complete with a bumpy, dusty mattress. I threw my backpack on the floor and plopped face down onto the bed. I screamed into the pillow until my voice was hoarse when I rose I noticed all my luggage was in the doorway. My father must have done this, only he would ignore his little girl screaming in agony. I hated him, he was selfish who was this imposter?! I wanted my old daddy back, the man who would rub my head and tell me everything was okay. I had no idea why Jaimee's death affected him so much or maybe he just didn't know how to deal with his new daughter and her new friend, severe depression.

Rising from the bed I shuffled across the hall to the bathroom, it was complete with a rusted clawfoot tub and a single bulb, hanging from a wire. The sink and toilet we're rough but nothing some serious cleaning couldn't fix. I proceeded to use the bathroom, wipe and flush. Rising to wash my hands I noticed a mirror, it felt like I hadn't looked into one of those in years. It was dusty, my sleeve fixed this issue right away and I stood shocked by the reflection I saw staring back at me.

It was a haunting image, my eyes once bright and emerald green, big as day and adorned with simple copper eyeshadow and mascara, were now hallow. In fact, sunken into my eye sockets from lack of eating, dark circles from the months of no sleep blanketed nearly my whole face, and those once bright emerald eyes, now grey and clouded over. My skin once a smooth caramel brown now almost pale and rough.

Finally, my hair, it used to be thick, very curly and a beautiful deep dark Auburn....but not anymore it was darker somehow, almost black at first glance. Hints of Auburn could be seen in the right sunlight, but it mostly just hung limply from my scalp, dry and matted, screaming for the tiniest drop of moisture or soap. I couldn't fill the request not now not ever, how could I take joy in looking beautiful and feeling good when my best friend was dead when she would NEVER EVER get that chance again! My eyes finally broke away from the image staring back at me, my hands found the knobs of the sink shut the water off and my legs followed the path back to the bedroom.

I laid there for what felt like months, in fact, it was months. In the small town of Agatha Woods, the school wasn't in session over the festival months which were October, November, and December. You made up for those missed months with your summer, and the school had no Air-conditioning. From what I read in the pamphlet about the school I'd be lucky if it had running plumbing. But I wouldn't have to find any of that out until April.

My parents and the principal thought it best if I adjusted to the town and our new home before rushing back into a school setting. I hated how everyone decided what was best for me, I hated how everyone talked about me like I wasn't there or walked on eggshells around me. I had been diagnosed by my therapist with severe depression, and an eating disorder anorexia and bulimia, since most food I ate, I puked up. But not on purpose, the guilt of enjoying living things hurt and caused me to vomit it all back up, how could I enjoy Jaimee's favorite thing, food, without her? No one ever got it, I just needed someone to hold me and understand, yet everyone was trying to fix me, or stay away from me like the plague.... as my father does.

****

Time fast-forwarded like in a movie. As I laid on my bed for those several months everything else around me moved at lightning speed. My mother redecorated the entire house, it looked less creepy and more 1920's flapper house. She even ripped up all the old trees in front and replaced them with palm trees, fake ones of course. My mother was NOT the gardening type, she hated real flowers. And my father through all of this found a room and converted it into a man's office space before my mother's wave of tacky decorating hit it. He never spoke to any of us anymore and he secluded himself in the room for hours at a time and then he left at odd hours if the night. Mine supposed to be, few months of the piece, felt more like being in a madhouse.......I'm not excited for school to start tomorrow please help me.

🎈