The closest comparison to my driving would be Cruella from 101 Dalmatians.
Anger doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling. I have never felt a betrayal like this and maybe that's why I'm losing my mind.
I'm not spontaneous, nor particularly brave but right now I need to fix something! I need just one thing in my life to make sense!
With my personal life having gone to hell, the desire to figure out what happened to Jenny and even Carla is amplified.
This need I have for truth leads me to Arrows Cemetery since I know Remi is buried here as a little extra reminder of strength. This is a bad idea. It's something I've considered but I lacked bravery. My cowardice is a reason Jenny is dead. If I had gone here sooner there's a chance she would be alive. That chance is a reason enough to hate myself.
I'm not naïve enough to think every ghost knows each other but maybe I am because I'm here of all places. I tell myself that the dead hear and see things that others don't. There's a strong possibility that someone knows something about the disappearance of Jenny or something else about Carla.
Hey, maybe someone will know something about my condition and why I can see them. I know that's extremely wishful thinking but I need something to hold on to.
As soon as I see the graveyard, I see them. Ghosts of every size and shape drift back and forth. All in clothing that dates back to a time I have only read about and seen in movies and tv shows. If it wasn't so sad it would be utterly fascinating.
I also picked this cemetery because I don't have any personal connections to anyone buried here... at least that I know of. I thought that was a smart choice but I can't help but think maybe I should of tried going to see my dad's tombstone.
I pace up and down until I get the courage to ask my question, "have any of you come across Jenny Cath?"
The dead look shocked but than they lose that sense of urgency and they start drifting again.
If I didn't know any better I would think that there's different kinds of dead people because these people are what I would imagine the dead to be like. In simple words they're all extremely dead. It sounds dumb but Remi and Henry are anything but dead. They obviously are but they don't act like it. They both act so alive that it's easily forgotten that they are in fact very dead.
I don't know if these people are out of touch- and if they are why that is. But all I know is every time I ask something they look right at me with clarity and than it's gone.
I even snap and yell at a young women who obvious died too young but she is just like the others. She's there and than she's not. Seeing these people makes me wonder who decides who turns into zombies and who gets to experience life after death.
I ask about my father, only after gathering the courage to and apparently not every dead person knows each other because I get nothing.
Though, I'm guessing these people are stuck here because if they weren't they would be like Remi and Henry; spending their days doing whatever the hell they want. Instead, they're here, condemned to being invisible and drifting back and fort; over and over.
The cemetery is quite large but there isn't an even match when it comes to tombstones and ghosts. Why is that? Why can't I see all the dead buried here? And better yet who decides who gets to move on and who doesn't?
It might just be my mind playing tricks on me but I swear the dead here are greyer, with darkened eyes. The biggest difference is the slowness, the way they move is so freaking slow! Not to mention the slight moaning that is so patronizing and quiet it almost sounds like humming.
I make myself walk further into the cemetery; there has to be someone who knows something. I don't allow myself to turn back even though I want nothing more.
I write it off as paranoia but I swear the atmosphere changes around me, the air, the sounds and even the sky.
When I make it to about the furthest point, that's where I smell it; blood. I need to turn back, that's what any person with a brain would do but I'm compelled to move forward. There's nothing forcing me to move, nothing but my own stupidity.
By the time I make it to the furthest part, I see him immediately. It would be impossible not to, with the white of his skin and the gloom he gives off. I would be able to walk away and write this guy off as some weirdo- that is, if it wasn't for the fact his was sucking the blood of some poor innocent women.
I run without sense and direction; all I can think about is how I'm going to die. I don't make it far before he appears right in front of me. "Don't be afraid and please don't scream", the soulless creature purrs. I don't scream but not because I want to listen to him, I don't scream because I physically can't. That's how afraid of him I am, so afraid that I literally can't make a sound.
"Good girl", he says as he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "I want you to listen to me, are you listening?" I nod but that disappoints him, "no, I want to hear your voice. Do you understand? Can you listen?" My voice doesn't even crack when I answer, "yes."
He smiles and there's a beauty about him that is unexplainable. Who knew the devil himself withheld such a beguiling allure. "What is your name, sweet creature?" "Redford", I say with ease. He smiles, one of too white teeth, "what a peculiar name. It suits you well", he says as a afterthought. I'm not sure if he means it as an insult- no, he definitely means it as an insult; regardless, I smile like a fool. I can't help but think back to meeting Henry because he said the very same thing. A common reaction because Redford really is a peculiar name.
"Redford, I want you to listen to me I am listening so I don't know why he keeps asking me that! Until he points it out I realize that I haven't really been listening all too well. Instead, I've been caught up on his appearance; I've never seen someone look like him.
He has dark hair that reminds me of coal and eyes so colourless grey isn't even a good enough description. His eyes may be colourless but it would be criminal to compare them to the zombie ghosts here. His eyes hold so much depth like he's seen so much in his time. Almost like he's been around for centuries and has seen every bit of bad which overshadows the good.
He's tall and slim but definitely not skinny. He's so pale that his skin reflects the moonlight. He should be odd looking but maybe because his features are all perfectly symmetrical that's why he isn't remotely odd looking.
"You're very pretty", I blurt out like an idiot. I expect anger from him because if I called Shawn or Trevor pretty that's how they would react but instead the beautiful man laughs a light rich laugh, "thank you Red."
I didn't tell him he could call me Red but I'm not mad that he did. I'm actually very happy, I don't remember the last time I felt this happy. I'm not dumb enough to contribute my happiness to being here, I'm happy because I feel none of the sorrow I've being feeling since my dad died.
As if he can feel my sadness he sombers, "I want you to look into my eyes, good", he says as soon as I do. "I want you do listen to what I say very carefully", I make a point to pay extra attention to him because I want to show him that I can please him. As if he can feel my effort he smiles and all I can think about is how I'll do just about anything to see him smile.
"I want you to forget what you saw when you came into the back of the cemetery. All you saw were the graves of the dead. You wanted to stay longer but it's getting dark and you know you shouldn't be out after dark which makes you want to leave. You never met anyone else, and you feel fulfilment for whatever reason you came here today. Thus, whatever is clearly making you upset will pass just like all things do and you know this. And after today you are going to start wearing silver so vampires can't compel you."
I lose my sense to stay which both disappoints me and makes me confident in my choice to leave. Besides, it's getting dark and I shouldn't be alone after dark. I'm surprised that I care, usually self-preservation, isn't my thing but I guess I'm growing as a person.
As I walk to my car I think about how dangerous this is, a vampire could attack me out of nowhere! "I need to start wearing silver earrings or something to try and protect myself", I mumble to myself.
"What makes you think silver would protect against vampires?" A slow, moving ghost asks me from the high gate of the cemetery. "I have no idea", which is the truth; vampires have no weakness so the fact I would think silver could do the trick is beyond me. She looks at me like she's waiting for me to come to this grand conclusion and when she sees that I have no idea what she wants she just drifts off.
I lay on my floor, thinking of Kaylee and how she must of known that to Trevor I was just a bet. At the cemetery I tried to forget the driving factor that lead me there but now that I'm back home it's all I can think about. Yet, for whatever reason I'm not as upset as I should be. Maybe it's because I know it will pass, even if it doesn't feel like it.
So far, Ben has knocked on my door twice, asking what's wrong. The only reason mom hasn't is because she's at the office, she's a lawyers assistant and is always pulling long hours. I feel somewhat bad, knowing I should feel really guilty when I tell Ben to, "fuck off" but that doesn't change the fact I don't.
As I get ready for bed I can't shake the feeling that something or someone is watching me but I know it's in my head. I call out to Remi and Henry, even after knowing that they weren't sneak up on me late at night.
"Red?" Ben tentatively calls from my bedroom door for the third time tonight. I know punishing him is wrong since he did nothing and is just checking on me. But it's embarrassing, so freaking embarrassing and if he found out about this I don't know how I would handle it.
I do the somewhat mature thing and unlock my door, I open it with shaky hands and Ben doesn't smile after I worked hard on giving him an extra nice fake one. "What happened at school?" It's on the tip of my tongue to ask, "why do you care?" But I know the answer to that, since losing dad things are different and that includes our relationship. We have always been close but now I think we're clinging to each other. Maybe that's bold to assume but that's at least how I feel.
"I got into a fight with Kaylee and Trevor and Shawn is taking their side." I wait for Ben to point out that if they are all against me that I'm definitely in the wrong. To his credit he doesn't say anything close, "do you want to talk about it?" He asks hopeful that I'll share something real, "no", I say taking the easy way out.
"Well, in that case I would say evaluate the situation the best you can. I like your friends for the most part but at the end of the day sometimes they aren't very nice." I almost defend them but thankfully I mange to stop myself, "I'll keep that in mind", I end up saying instead. "Love you sis", I smile a real one, "love you too Benny boy." He makes a face but deep down I know he likes the nickname.
I run myself a bubble bath and set my laptop on the toilet so I can watch a movie. I end up picking The Aristocats because it's a childhood favourite and I'm looking for comfort.
About halfway in, I hear a knock on my door followed by, "hurry up! It's too late for long baths." "Okay", I say even though I'm planning on spending a good chunk more of time soaking.
By the time I finish the movie, my hands are all clammy but at least I smell like vanilla and lemons. I dry off and wrap up in the fluffiest towl. I change into my warmest pyjamas and grab a brush. I brush my hair and than put it in a loose braid. I leave the bathroom and head to my room.
When I walk in I immediately plug my laptop in to charge and my eye is drawn to my old jewellery box. I grab it and set it on my bed; I rummage through my jewellery with little thought. I briefly consider organizing it and picking stuff to get rid of but I'm not in the mood.
Pretty much all of it is fake gold which is fine but I feel like silver is colder which would suit me better. I don't know why I have the sudden urge to wear jewellery, because I can't remember the last time I wore something other than a matching anklet Kaylee got me.
I go to my moms room and I walk in once I see her door is open. "It's late Red", she says already in bed with a yawn. "I know", I say with a shy guilty smile.
"I was wondering if I could go to the mall tomorrow and buy myself some silver earrings." Mom smiles, "I think that's a great idea. Use some of that hard earned money and buy yourself something nice. I'm sure Kaylee would love to go with you." It takes a lot of effort not to react to that but I manage to keep my face passive enough that it doesn't lead to any questions.
"Yeah, sounds good. Goodnight", I say than I blow her a kiss."
"Wait, Red", I look back, "I have a pair of sliver hoops. Actually, I got them when I was about your age. I wonder if I still have them?"
I sit on moms bed as she goes through her jewellery box, "there they are!" She turns to me with a smile, "I loved these earrings."
"So why did you stop wearing them?" I ask and in response, she just shrugs, "got bored of them I guess."
"Here", she says smiling at me, "they're real silver and they're yours if you want them. I understand if you don't and would rather get a new pair." I'm shaking my head, "they're beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so", we hug and afterwards she puts them in my ears. It reminds me when I was younger and thinking back makes me sad because it makes me think of who's missing.
As if mom knows what I'm thinking about she soothingly rubs my arm. "They look great!" I smile, "thanks mom." She winks and me.
I head back to my room and literally leap into bed. Just as I'm about to close my eyes I check insta.
Carla Mills is trending, I tap on the first article that pops up. I immediately regret going on my phone because after skimming, I find out that her killer-, who is the well known Sylvester Page, has escaped. Of course I already know that from Remi and Henry but now it's public knowledge.
I make sure to go into private browsing when I search the name because as a human googling demons or anything supernatural related isn't allowed. I'm not really sure it matters all that much because I'm sure there's a way for police to check private browsing but it gives me a little piece of mind.
After typing Sylvester Page into the search engine I'm surprised at just how much comes up.
Details from Carla's death also pop up since they have finally been released. And those details are more than deserving to say the least.
She was strangled by the demon who's real name is Sylvester Page, which I already knew but I keep skimming. What I didn't know was that he was a teacher at Beetle Academy, he taught RSM which in the article is in brackets; the actual name is Ritual Sacrificial Magic. He also taught none other than the Art of Possession Magic or APM for short.
I finish skimming the article but I make sure to save it because I will want to read it over.
Why would a teacher want to kill a student? Not to mention, judging from his certifications and multiple degrees Google says he has; he's a genius. He was quite respected in the field of dark magic he was in and is even called a pioneer by many, so why throw it all away?
The more I dig, the more I learn which leads me to the conclusion that there's no motive. Why would Sylvester Page kill Carla Mills?
Though, to some there is a motive; Page's magic consumed him. I click on a link that takes me to a video of a supremacist group PAM (People against Monsters.) "The darkness was just too much!" "Supernaturals with dark magic are a threat!" People say with their handmade signs. I sigh, as I scroll through the comments. It's amazing what people will say online. It's almost like they don't make the connection that free speech only goes so far.
I shouldn't be surprised that a, "kill the supernaturals", comment has the most likes but I still am.
Technically, supernaturals have laws and rights . Not as many as people, (they still can't vote and marry non supernaturals along with a few other very niche restrictions) but they have the right to life. In other words you cannot set traps for a shifter, hunt werewolves, attempt to stake a vampire and try to send a demon back to hell. Of course this doesn't stop people from doing all these things but in the more liberal US states and provinces of Canada you can be put away in jail for attempted murder.
Attempted is the key word because ninety nine percent of times it fails but once and awhile it doesn't. I think the fail rate would be less if people actually took the time to learn about who they wanted dead. For instance there was a case in Toronto where a man successfully killed a group of vampires because he had found their resting place and lit the whole house on fire. Ben and I were obsessed with the story because it was just so absurd.
Unfortunately for the man, Toronto isn't a red province so he's currently serving a steep sentence, rotting away in some prison.
The supernatural community and its leaders were outraged and demanded that the human justice system make an example of him. So let's just say he isn't getting out any time soon. Than again maybe he should be grateful Canada doesn't have the death penalty. I along with everyone thinks if he got any less time a supernatural would have made an exception by bringing the death sentence north to Canada.
"Carla?" I call out to the dead Beetle student she looks at me with a pleading expression, "don't trust him! He's a murderer!" "Your murderer? Sylvester Page?" I ask instantly, as she and I look all around. "There's nothing! What are you looking at?" I beg her to answer, "who? Who is the murderer? Did he kill Jenny? Jenny Cath?" In that moment I realize that I truly do not think Page did it. Carla looks me dead in the eye, "don't trust Blackwell."
Who the fuck is Blackwell?
I wake up extra early so I can go to the hospital but really I just want to see Kitty.
When I get there I'm informed my effort was a waste because Kitty isn't doing well enough for visitors. I'm sad and than scared but she is ninety eight so what do I expect. I shouldn't have gotten attached but Kitty made it so damn hard by constantly acting crabby, rude and unapproachable. She won me over with her sparkling personality.
My boss Susie says I can stay which I do but the whole time I'm just waiting to leave. Turns out Kitty made my shifts a whole lot more bearable.
First period is awkward to say the very least but at least I'm not actively being put on the spot. Kaylee keeps shooting me, "I'm sorry" looks but I can't find it in myself to care. To be honest, her sad eyes just make me more pissed off. "Why is she the hurt one?" I mumble to myself, "because she's a mass manipulator", Henry says, startling me.
I turn and he's standing behind me. "I'm assuming something un-towards happened yesterday?" I don't know why Henry said that because to his knowledge he knows nothing... he should know nothing about the bet. I immediately decide against telling him, "we got into a fight." "Where's Remi?" Henry being a gentleman ignores the obvious change of subject.
"I was hoping you could tell me", Henry says as he fails to mask his concern. "I'm sorry, I-" "who are you talking to?" I feel my eyes go wide and my face heat, to make matters worse she's not the only person staring at me. "Myself", I say knowing the truth is unexplainable.
Karlee; like me is a senior and also a cheerleader, but unlike me she's dating Steve the druggie. Karlee laughs a high pitched squeal, "you're like so weird", she says laughing again. I nod with a fake smile because what else am I supposed to do.
To make matters worse, when I look back behind me I see Kaylee and Trevor staring at me with looks of pity and confusion all wrapped into one.
I get up to leave one minute before the bell and our teacher tells me to stop but I'm already out of the classroom before he can do anything.
I eat lunch in the bathroom which is pathetic and sad but even if I wasn't sitting with the football players and cheerleaders I would still be sitting in a castle ran by them.
I'm not on the track or cross country team but that doesn't stop me from running. I hate running but it's one of the only things that makes me so tired I feel nothing but the pain or air going into my lungs.
I lose track of all the members from both teams, guys and girls but that doesn't bother me. I rarely run and when I do it's because it's my last resort.
I run laps without timing myself and I can't help but feel sorry for myself. Since March I've lost my dad, I can see dead people and, my best friend is a lying bitch. Not to mention I've lost content with my life.
Now, I question pretty much everything internally; what's important and until yesterday I had been questioning my friends and why I hang around them.
The bell startles me, not that I actually care about being on time for my next class. I collapses in the middle of the field from pure exhaustion.
"Should we get help?" "Let her be!" I squint and sigh when I see two ghosts staring back at me. "Oh goody! She's awake!" I slowly move my head off the grass to get a better look at them. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" The women asks me, I nod. She smiles brightly at me while the other one rolls her eyes. "I'm Ethel, Ethel Smith", the one who's more concerned about my health says. That name, I've heard that name before but the question is from where?
It can't be! Could it be? "What did you say your name was?" The women doesn't look taken back that I would ask again or disappointed that I didn't listen. "It's Ethel Smith", she says again. "As in the first women to compete in track and field for the Olympics? " She smiles a big full one, "I wasn't only one to compete in 1928." I'm not sure how I should feel but I think awe covers it.
"And you are?" I ask the second ghost, "John Armstrong." "You're Canadian right? Are you from Winnipeg?" He nods, "originally but now I go wherever I want." I look back to Ethel, "you're also from Winnipeg?" She shakes her head, "I was born in Toronto and I died in Toronto." Great, just great that means I'm now seeing ghosts from out of province. Note to self, no more running for me.
I make it to class over ten minutes late but I couldn't care less. Since I think learning from two former Olympians is a better source of education than what I would have learned in class during that time.
Chemistry is particularly terrible but it's not because of what we're learning or my fight with Kaylee; If only my problems were that small.
The reason chem is so atrocious is because I'm watching as a young women with beautiful red hair floats to the highest point of the ceiling. She goes higher and higher, until she's right above our teacher. What the hell is she doing?
I watch, transfixed on her movements as she gently lifts one of the speckled ceiling panels. She drops it and it crashes to the floor. "The breeze or a rodent must of ran on it", our teacher says. My heart drops because if he commented on it than that means it actually happened.
I should be filled with joy that others can see the impact of the dead but I just feel sick inside. Since when can the dead interfere with the living?
I notice how the women moves, she moves with precision and grace. I watch as she pulls out a rope from thin air. I watch as she throws the rope into the hole in the ceiling from where the missing tile was. I watch as the woman drifts down to grab the tile. "What the hell?" Someone calls out, "must be a really strong breeze", our teacher says as he goes to check the windows.
He's a science teacher, he knows the breeze isn't strong enough to move a ceiling tile. Yet, that's what he tells himself and his students. It's amazing how people will lie to themselves to explain the extraordinary. Everyone is left stunned but it's still clear to me that they aren't getting the full picture because they can't see her.
My mouth drops open as she ties a perfect noose around her neck.
I don't move because there's no way. There's no way anything can come from her movements. The rope won't hold in the ceiling. The ceiling tile isn't angled or heavy enough to keep the rope from sliding down. The rope slips and quickly falls but no one says a word. She's controlling what they see, that's the only exclamation.
I'm teetering on what's real and what's not. The laws of physics and gravity, don't matter. I know this because I watch as the woman hangs herself with a noose that holds onto nothing. The end angle must be her idea of a joke because dead feet nearly touch my chemistry teacher.