"She's never done that before." I stated.
"Maybe she just thought it's about time."
I try to think about his preposition, Who's to say Ericka didn't just suddenly realize everything she's done to me since I moved in was absolutely horrible? It wasn't that difficult to see, even her parents are aware of the way they would treat me. But even then, that was even more far-fetched than the idea that uncle Ron was once manipulative like her. This wasn't her. Defending me was never Ericka. If the world was somehow on the brink of collapse and the only way for it to stand back up again is by supporting her cousin, she would still never do it. Because I know her too well. She wasn't the kind of girl who stood up for you when everyone tripped your feet, instead, she would push you down even more and laugh along with everyone else while watching your demise. That was her. Not this. So to answer Bill's preposition, absolutely not.
As much as I admired the idea she just spontaneously realized she's a horrible person like what everyone has been trying to tell her for the past five years, it didn't seem right. Nothing has been right since I got out of the hospital, and I thought the peculiarities would end with the shit I've been seeing and feeling, I didn't know she would be one of those oddities. "No."
"No?" He looks up at me again, eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed his soup.
I've always thought Ericka had some kind of a grudge against me that no one really bothered to clear up, so over time it just grew and grew until one day all just exploded into a pit of rage. At least that was how I saw it. I didn't necessarily spared time to brood over why she's doing this to me and why she likes it. The last time I did that, blood pooled through the water in my bathtub and I almost cut through a vital pulse, because I didn't know how to answer the question. I just grew familiar with the fact she hated me more than anything else in the world, for it has been like that since the day I was forced to move in because I didn't have anyone else in Minnesota. Nonetheless, even if it seemed like it, even if it seemed like I'm just letting her step all over me like I was a piece of shit, it was never just that. "I don't think I've properly mentioned before how much she hates me. The two of them."
"Your cousins?"
Cousins a foreign word I never used to refer to them as; because they gave me a reason not to. They weren't my cousins. And even though our blood say otherwise, cousins aren't supposed to ruin each other's lives. Other than that; I clearly remember the day Ericka pulled me into a corner at school and told me she didn't want anyone to find out we were related. I thought it was only because she didn't want to be associated with such a loser, however, it didn't end there. She told people on purpose we weren't related so she could spread rumours about me without anyone guilt tripping her. And it worked, because a week later, people were sneering at me in the hallways. Even Jumper and Georgie had proposed the conclusion either of us were adopted. I wasn't for if I was, Uncle Ron would've told me by now.
"Yeah." I looked down to my food, scooping up some soup with my spoon and inspecting the substance. "They kind of like telling people at school I'm a slut and I killed my parents and that I'm a junkie and everyone should stay away from me."
"Why would they say that about you?"
"Because they want to." I muttered. "Just because they can. And people believed them I guess."
"That's horrible." He mused, placing down his bowl and staring at me. It was, and I keep on reminding myself how horrible it is whenever I get the chance. Nonetheless, even if I think about how disturbing it is and how wrong it was to experience such things from other people, not to mention my blood, anger wouldn't really change anything.
"Oh trust me I've experienced worse." I shook my head, a chuckle rising to my throat as I look back on the years I've spent in Hillside Highschool. I couldn't even count in my fingers how many times I've heard her tell people I fucked random strangers for cocaine and other drugs. I did do drugs, but I never went as far as lowering myself to the point where I had sex with strangers in the streets to score some, and I don't think I ever will. Mainly because Dalton and Georgie had endless sources which didn't need anything else other than money in exchange. "Once Ericka even called a quarter of the school's male population to watch me shower in the girls' locker rooms."
It was one afternoon just before winter break, and the reason I ran to the showers in the first place was because some girls spilled that day's counter special tomato soup on my sweater and I looked like I was bleeding from my chest. I went to the locker rooms and stripped off my clothes, cursing under my breath in utter aggravation. I wanted to hit their faces, punch those red lipsticks off their mouths and see them apologize for what they did because they laughed instead of saying sorry. I don't even know why I expected them to do so. Sorries weren't a common thing in Hillside. People just kinda assume they can step all over you and you accept it. It didn't help the showers were all in one room, shower heads attached to the tiled walls without any division in between for individual privacy. I was just lucky it was lunch time and no one else had P.E. which always required a shower.
The water was freezing from the winter, and all the hot water has been used up so I needed to endure the ice raining down on my body just so I could get rid of the sticky red stain on my chest. The bell rang outside the bathrooms and breaktime was officially over and I was still inside. I closed my eyes and embraced the quivers engulfing my muscles, wishing I was somewhere else instead, possibly telling Jumper how much I wanted to go on a murder spree for revenge. Of course I wasn't actually going to do it, but it was nice to imagine what it would be like to make people pay for the fucked up things they did for entertainment. And then there was giggling, masculine laughter echoing across the walls of the shower section in the locker rooms. My eyes flew open, my hands hastily doing everything they could to cover up all the exposed parts of my body, which didn't do much. I was still bare. Not to mention, surrounded by eyes of random students and the foot sports teams alike, and cameras held up in front of me, documenting the horror and panic solidifying on my face.
I grabbed my clothes hanging from the walls and covered my body with them, the tiles slippery as water dripped from my feet. I ran off, the hot tears and the cold water mixing along with the heat of humiliation on my face. I had to run around the corridors utterly naked, be seen by possibly everyone and put my clothes back on inside the restroom cubicles. I didn't know when exactly she told them to go there, but she did, and this only fueled my anger even more. I didn't want to cry but I still did. Jumper was absolutely raged when she found out, threatening punch both Ericka and Ella in the face when she would get the chance. Some of their friends heard us talk and told Ericka, with that she also spread another misinformation that Jumper sent her death threats via email which was no where near true, but it gathered enough attention that my friend got suspended for a whole week as punishment.
For the next month or so, people had shared the footage of me all fucking naked to the entirety of the school. Boys either groped my ass in the hallways or told me disgusting things how they would fuck me but they didn't have cocaine and all that shit. I kicked them off, which only added to my list of offenses. Dalton had enough and started a fight in the corridors with the people jeering me, yelling at them to leave me alone or he was going to fuck them up. And then it was his turn to be beaten up; some members of the football team who videoed me in the locker rooms teaming up on him and ruining his face with cuts and bruises from their knuckles. I tried stopping them, risking myself in the commotion and getting punched in my mouth myself.
For them it was just another show they fabricated to give some excitement to their boring lives, but it took us months before we moved on. Dalton was incapacitated for the next week or so, and we had to endure another batch of people blaming us for things we didn't do. We got suspended several more times after that hurried discourse because of false accusations. It never really stopped with ruining our lives. People had to take the pieces and smother it all over our faces.
"Jesus Christ," Bill gulped, a look of pain manifesting into his expressions. "They did that?"
"Unfortunately, Yes."
"How can you even manage to live with them?"
Those were the exact same words which came out of my friends' mouths when they first knew I was related to Ericka and Ella. How could I even manage to live with them? And I always had the same answer; I didn't have a choice. At the end of the day, it was unavoidable. As much as I wanted to not even bump shoulders with them around the house, I still do, because we lived together, and there was no other place that would accept me without any sort of payment. That's a pitiful way to look at things,letting them step all over me like I'm dog shit because their parents took me in, nevertheless, it was also the only explanation I could hold on to to avoid insanity. "I try not to." I start to eat my food out of habit, the warmth coming from the steam rising to my face.
"Did you . . Did you do something to them?"
"Nothing that I can remember." I shrug in uncertainty. I've asked that question myself. In fact, a lot of people have asked me that as well whenever my relation with my cousins are brought up in a conversation, and every time the answer feels lost. Because it is. I even once came to the conclusion they were doing revenge for something inhumane I did to them so they threw me off the bus; I couldn't remember doing anything nearly slightly against them even as a kid. My parents would frequently come over to visit uncle Ron and I would always tag along because Connor's brother and his wife wanted to see me. I never did interact with Ericka and Ella then, just the common hi's and hello's whenever we're forced to talk by our dads. I never built a relationship with them. I've kind of wanted to just be alone and mind my own business.
"Then why are they doing that?"
"I've stopped asking a long time ago honestly."
"How about their parents?"
"What about their parents?" I return the question to him with a mouthful of food.
"Didn't they do anything about it?" He looks at me, legs crossed in a squat as he refrained from eating, now more invested in my story than his dinner. It was a bit flattering. To have someone be so enthusiastic over the whole thing, at the end of the day my friends didn't like talking about my cousins, and whenever we do it's always filled with personal hatred for them. There was both wonder and pity in his eyes, like a child witnessing a car crash.
"They tried to but their efforts weren't enough." I replied with a sigh. Uncle Ron tried taking to his children; made them sit down and trapped them by the dinner table in front of me and Aunt Marianne. I didn't want to do it as much as I wanted the rumours to be over, but Ron insisted for my sake. I knew from the beginning it wasn't a good idea, and I was right. All we ever really got out of them were leers and snickers. "Why do we have to care about that loser?" Ella rolled her eyes, arms firmly crossed above her stomach while her sister's piercing blue eyes burned holes through my face. Their dad's tried to make them realize, even going as far as threatening to kick them out if they didn't stop. But they knew him too well to believe him, so they stood with their decision and I left the kitchen.
At the end of the day, we couldn't force them to do something they didn't want to do.
"So what did you do?"
"Nothing." I muttered, "There's nothing left to do other than not associate myself with them as much as possible."
"I'm sorry," He mumbled softly, shifting from his position. "It must be beyond difficult to get used to it."
"You know something? Ericka was the reason I was in the hospital." I tell him, "She gave me a condition I couldn't just let go in exchange to find her stupid camera she left there when they went ghost hunting with her friends."
He didn't say anything, green eyes only staring at me and urging me to go on. So I did. "That same night Arthur and I met outside the building and we went in together. And then . . I found you."
"She went inside the hospital before?"
"Yeah. I'm surprised you haven't encountered them. How long have you been staying there anyway?"
He pauses, gaze falling out of focus from my face and landing on the rug we were sitting on. "Quite long . ." He says, "I didn't see them, but I did hear some noises. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between the building's noises and the people who would go in for fun, so I try not to pay attention to anything I catch."
"Why did you come out when I was there then?" I questioned, recalling the chilling scene when I snapped a picture of him, the white silhouette standing by the doorway behind me with laser eyes, and the way he asked for help.
He gives himself an abundant amount of time before he spoke again, "I . ." He stuttered, gaze unstable on the carpet rug, seemingly confused himself. "I don't know . . I-I just-- I saw something so I knew I couldn't stay there anymore."
"You saw something?" My eyebrows furrowed. I do remember him telling me things when we first met, right after I felt guilty for seeing him puke on himself and the floors of hillside cross station. He said the building has made him see many things. Things I think I've seen myself, which made me realize, if I saw all sorts of insanity inside in such a short period of time, what more could he have witnessed? Maybe he saw what Sarah saw? Maybe he saw what Ericka did?
"I'd much prefer it if we don't talk about that." He utters stiffly, grabbing his bowl next to him which he temporarily abandoned. That was when I woke back up to reality, momentarily trapped in a daze of exhaustion, enough for me to dive into the conversation. It's been a long day, I shouldn't ask questions I don't know if I want answered. At the end of the day, it was none of my business.
"Sure, th-that's fine." I nodded in agreement, chastising my over-curiosity in my head. "I'm sorry I brought it up, I'm just--"
"Maybe you thought you saw everything . . A lot of people do." He speaks again, head down as he sunk his spoon into the soup.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You haven't." He looks up at me again, the previous softness in his eyes I was growing comfortable with being replaced by the same old uncertain fear, the one he had on when he was pulling up the soiled blankets to his neck, and quivering from the cold while I endured the pain squelching through my arm muscles.
"Adrianne?!" Uncle Ron's voice behind the door caught me off guard, my heart falling at the pit of my stomach. I drop my bowl to the side and shoot up my feet, the thought I haven't locked my door and the sight of him discovering Bill in my room sending a panic between my fingers.
I hurtled towards the door, my feet caught through the fabric of the rug as I reached for the door knob, making sure it's secured. It was. "Y-Yeah?!" I choked on my own spit as my chest pounded.
"Aunt Mary needs help with the dishes, Ericka and Eleanor didn't want to and I need to finish typing my paper. Can you maybe come down there for a minute? I'm sorry for interrupting your work."
"N-No, No, it's okay! I was just about to finish anyway! I'll come down!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I-I'll be there in a minute!" I returned, sticking my ear against the door to listen to the other side. I've grown a habit of doing that since I moved in, mainly because I didn't want to bump shoulders with any of the twins.
I didn't hear another noise from the door, the familiar creak of the wooden stairs indicating Uncle Ron has finally come down. Nevertheless, the war inside my chest remained, heartbeat vibrating through my ears. I think it's pretty late now to consider how fucked up it is that I'm risking having a home for the sake of someone I've only ever known for a short period of time, but I've went over this a million times now and I still had no backup plan. Still the same old uncertainty and as long as they don't know, it's good.
Grip still tight on the knob, I look back at Bill, still sitting on the floor, eyes trained on me with what I can only assume the same amount of dread I had in mine. Thick silence hangs in the air, the only sound being the distant car horns and street noises outside my windows. This wasn't the first time this happened, and it sure as hell won't be the last. "Finish your food." I tell him, clearing my throat.
He quickly obliged by doing so, cleaning his way through the bowl. I do the same with mine, barely finishing it as I gathered our utensils and hurtled out of the door, securing it shut just in case. Uncle Ron sat by the coffee table in front of his laptop, the monitor glaring off his glasses as he typed. It wasn't news the twins didn't want to help with dishes, they never did. Sometimes Ericka will out of boredom when she doesn't have anything else to do, but Ella never did. They were nowhere to be seen as I entered the kitchen so I didn't have to deal with them, however that didn't mean I wasn't curious still.
I made my way through the plates next to Mary, exchanging brief conversations here and there about the weather and where I've been. As always she couldn't be softer with her tone, which is exactly why her daughters lack respect when it comes to their mother. Hannah was the same. Giving me goodnight kisses before bed and telling random stories about her own childhood, some of which I never really paid attention to. I stop myself from asking about Ericka, keeping my words to myself.
I didn't want to make it a big deal because it wasn't. It was just me being weirded out, and sure enough that's only for tonight. Tomorrow and the following days would be different and I think I prefer that more.
By the time we were done cleaning the dishes and putting them away, I said my goodnights to Mary and Ron, heading back upstairs and locking myself into my room. There Bill was on his feet now, tugging the creased ends of my bedsheets, the sight of it bringing tingles on my finger toes. Only then did I remember I was beyond exhausted, the previous swelling in my cast I had to endure while I was walking around outside going back. Since I woke up this morning I have wanted to stay in bed but obviously that wasn't an option. If I found out sooner Ad Urbem would be a disaster, I wouldn't have went with my guts.
He finalizes my mattress and does the same with his makeshift bed, settling himself down afterwards. I was wrong about one thing. Come to think of it; Bill wasn't just a stranger anymore. For the past week, he's been one of the few people who dared to care about me despite all odds. It brought this peculiar feeling of comfort inside me, kind like the way I felt around my friends. I never thought I would experience that with any body else, but right there I was proving myself wrong. I didn't know why he was doing this, why he was being nice when I have done nothing but doubt him. It probably had to do something with the fact that I was letting him stay.
I brush my teeth, turning off the lights afterwards, pitch black encompassing the entirety of my room. I climb my bed, pulling the duvets over my chest as the cold prickled my skin. Finally I rest, my bones swelling as they sink into the cushions, Although despite all my efforts, I find myself wide awake, recalling all the day's events against my will, and then . . there was tomorrow. Tomorrow Arthur is going to be there again, and so will Georgie and nothing would have changed. We're still not talking and I'm still mad at myself. I didn't want us to be like this anymore, and I can't say I didn't have a choice. Because I did, and I went with the dumbest one. What does Georgie think of me now? Is she still mad? Does she think I'm a traitor? A set of questions I wondered about since the day she found out.
Eventually I feel myself let go of consciousness, my thoughts falling at the back of my head to stay untouched for the rest of the night. I didn't want to see Arthur tomorrow. Not after all those shit he said to me. Not after I've had a panic attack for remembering everything I've went through for the past five years.
I was taken away from the inevitable slumber, sudden muffled noises filling my ears. At first I thought it was the wind tapping on my window panes, but it didn't take long for me to listen hard enough to realize it wasn't the wind. It was Ericka and Ella in the next room, voices raised and trembling. They were fighting.
"So that's how you're going to treat me?!" Ericka yells, curiosity taking over me the further I paid attention.
"How am I treating you?!" Ella responds in the same tone.
"Oh for fuck's sake Eleanor, quit the innocent act I'm not a fucking idiot."
"Well isn't it true? You're an idiot?! Because if you're not you wouldn't put yourself in a police watch list. In this case you did so I'm proud of you."
"Shut the fuck up or I swear to god I will--"
"Why are you so pressed? It's just you and me, it's not like the whole school will know how much of a fucking bitch you are - oh wait, they already know. But I know a couple of things they don't."
"Ella--"
"No, Ericka, don't you dare talk to me. I would rather die than hear another word come out of your stupid fucking mouth."
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Hi babes, I'm sorry I've been gone again for a month, the next update has been long due and I'm back again ☺️ I'll try my hardest to update as much as possible so you guys won't have to wait ages for another chapter 😅 I'm terribly sorry for all my inconsistencies.
I've just been realizing as well that I'm not as active on here as I used to be, but just in case you guys want to keep up with me personally, kindly follow my Instagram: chantalisdead and partlydeadinside or my Reddit 😂 u/partlydeadinside ☺️ But if you don't wanna, that's alright too!
Thanks for being patient, luvs ❤️
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