What Lies Beneath (2 page)

I watched them rush into the elevator and when the doors closed, I stood up and hurried behind the desk. The alarm’s volume lowered itself and I sat down in a black swivel chair and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Why couldn’t he have been caught? I needed to know why he did it. I hoped that I would eventually remember.

I also hoped that I wouldn’t have to confront him anytime soon. It was all so difficult to take in but I had to face that it happened. And knowing him, he’d be here right now. But he’s not. Maybe, I never really knew him to begin with. He never really talked much about his life before he moved to Hanson.

I knew better than to overload him with questions, considering his anger issues. He never hit me and he never even came close to harming me. Why now? It just doesn’t make any fucking sense. Anger issues are one thing, but attempted murder is something else entirely.

I took a moment to gather myself and lifted a black cordless phone off of the desk to dial my parents. Three rings later my mom answered, her voice raspy and thick.

              “This is Carol,” she said.

              “Mom, its Blair. I remember. I don’t remember it all, but I remember Dylan grabbing me by my hair and throwing me into the water.” my voice shook. I held the phone tight so that I wouldn’t drop it. I was nervous now and I knew my mom could hear it in my voice. I turned around a couple of times to see if anyone was coming, but at the back of my head, I knew I also turned to see if Dylan was behind me.

              “Blair. You’re not supposed to have the phone-”

              “I came out to the nurses’ desk to use it. I’m not crazy! Just come get me. I want to go home,” I told her. I waited for her response, and heard her wake my dad and attempt to put her hand over the phone so I couldn’t hear. Everything they said was muffled. I was suddenly getting angrier by the minute.

              “Alright, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Do me a favor honey, go back to your room and rest until I get there,” she explained.

              “Okay.” I said calmly and hung up the phone. Without thinking twice, I smashed the phone on the ground and watched the pieces as they flew across the white linoleum.

3

             
The afternoon sun snuck its way into my room through the purple curtains of my bedroom window. The light forced me to pull the blanket over my head. It had been three weeks since I had come home from the hospital and all I did was sleep and eat.

I unplugged my TV and laid a towel over my laptop. I didn’t want to go on the internet and see all the messages from my peers and random strangers about what happened to me. I didn’t want to see the news on TV either. Local news stations and the newspaper blew up our house phone and every single time, my dad yelled into the phone with crazed fury and hung up.

My mom took my cell phone and disconnected it. She said I needed a new phone and a new number. I’m not even allowed to leave the house unless I’m with one of my parents. I am so grateful that I graduated and don’t have to face anyone in school.

I don’t know if I could handle that, especially seeing Dylan’s younger sister in the halls. Dylan hasn’t made an appearance and I can’t help but feel that he might be dead after all. I haven’t remembered anything else since the hospital, even though I try to force myself, it still doesn’t work.

I remembered Max, my best friend, telling me about Pearl, one of the few psychics in town. She helped people and since the hospital I’ve been thinking about visiting her. I’m not one to believe in the paranormal, but after Dylan tried to kill me, I have to believe in anything that could somehow help me, even if it were a little out of this world.

              Max came to see me. But he only got as far as the kitchen before my parents asked him to come back in a couple of weeks, when I was supposed to be better. Or so they hoped. Max used to be a she and his name used to be Maxine.

I had known him since the fourth grade and knew that he wanted to be a boy ever since he confessed himself to me in the sixth grade. I wanted to see him. I want him to know that I’m okay. But I’m not even sure that I am okay. All I keep thinking about is Dylan, and why he would want me dead.

The police searched the lake and found an arm. They say it belongs to Dylan, but until they confirm it we won’t know. I’m not sure it belongs to him. I have this ugly feeling that he’s still out there, lurking and waiting it out until it’s safe enough for him to come see me. But I think if he were alive, he’d come to me by now.

So far, there hasn’t been a single tap on my window. His family has been going through some pretty awful things since I was attacked. I heard my dad telling my mom that no one speaks to them and Dylan’s younger sister Lauren, is being ignored in school. I feel bad for his family. It’s not their fault that Dylan was crazy.

              A few more days have crept past and I’ve thrown everything away that was given to me by Dylan, even the clothes. I don’t want to own anything from him and I don’t even want to see his picture. I’m not sure if I’ve fallen out of love with him, but I could never feel the same way about him ever again.

I finally turned on my laptop and read on the internet that it’s normal to feel like this, and that eventually it will be even harder to fall back in love with someone else. Great, it’s nice to hear that my love life will be shit when I get older. 

I’ve had the same dream or vision over and over with him pulling my hair, and so far nothing else has surfaced. My mom is taking me to get my hair cut today. I also read that sometimes when traumatic or horrific things happen to a person, they start to lose their mind and become a hermit.

They never leave the house, they are afraid of people, and eventually they lose it completely. I won’t let that happen to me. I forbid it to take me under. Dylan will not ruin my life. If anything, I hope this makes me stronger.

              The sheriff came over last night to give us some news. I sat in suspense, waiting for him to speak. Had they found the rest of the body to match to the arm? The sheriff explained that the arm did belong to Dylan, but so far the rest of his body hasn’t turned up.

They are calling off the search for him since he’s been pronounced dead and now they will be searching for the remainder of his body. I asked if someone could live without an arm and he told me that Dylan would had to have went to the hospital and got treated in order to be alive. But there were no signs of him at any hospital near or in Hanson.

I went to my room and cried for a while. I cried a lot. Usually I’m not that emotional, but now that I know he’s officially dead I have no way to find out what really happened that night. I will just have to wait for more snippets to surface in my head and there is no telling when that will be.

             
“You want to cut it
all
off?” mom asked, as I held the hairstyle booklet in my hands. I stared down at a pixie cut I thought was cute. I’ve never had my hair short, it’s always been long. I looked over at my mom and I could tell she was more nervous than I was.

The spot on the back of my head was taking too long to grow back, so cutting it short once wasn’t going to hurt. I just wish my mom would realize that instead of looking like a nervous wreck in Mick’s Baber shop. This is the only place in Hanson that I like to get my hair trimmed at, and ever since Mick died in 1982 his daughter modernized it a bit.

Mick’s daughter, Sheila, always cuts my hair. She’s known me since I was five and she’s the one who actually introduced me to Dylan. That is one memory I’m sure will never go away.

              I was waiting for Sheila to be done, when he walked in. The bells above the door chimed and jingled as the scent of his cologne tickled my nostrils. I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live. Sheila was nearly done with a guy, but I wasn’t in a hurry to get my hair trimmed anymore.

I kept my eyes on Dylan, watching him as he pretended to read a copy of
Seventeen
. Our eyes locked and in that instant my heart fluttered in my chest. I blushed and smiled at him and he returned a little wave.

Sheila dusted off her chair and whistled for me to head on over to her. I got up from my seat and tucked a strand of loose brown hair around my ear and smiled at him as I passed his seat. After Sheila wrapped my neck in a lavender scented scarf she sprayed water on my hair and cleared her throat.

              “He’s cute. His name is Dylan Morgan. He’s waiting for his sister Lauren, over there.” Sheila nodded at a blonde girl who looked to be at least twelve. Her eyes were big and her lips were plump and glossed. She looked more like a seventeen year old trapped in a preteen’s body. She even had bigger breasts than me.

             
“He is cute,” I replied as Sheila began trimming my hair. I snuck quick tiny glances in Dylan’s direction and after Sheila washed and blow dried my hair, I attempted to sneak past him and make my escape. I didn’t think I was ready to hang with guys, but according to Sheila, I was so ready.

              “Blair, hold up!” Shelia waved at me and I turned back to her, so much for making a sneaky escape.

              “Yeah?” I asked, clearly blushing times ten. I wondered if it looked like someone painted red apples on my cheeks. Sheila smiled sinisterly, snatched me by my arm, and dragged me over to Dylan. I smiled at him again, but I sensed my smile was a little too exaggerated.

              “Dylan Morgan, this is Blair Lewis. Since you two couldn’t take your eyes off of each other, I’m here to knock some sense into you both. And you’re welcome.” Sheila let go of my arm and walked behind the cash register to take care of a customer. I looked at her and she winked at me.

              “Hi.” Dylan stuck out his hand and grabbed mine. We shook hands quickly and I could feel the sweat in his palm. He must have been nervous as well. I was surprised that sweat wasn’t streaming down my face.

              “Hi,” I said back, sounding like a total idiot. It was like we were in the third grade and all we could do was say hi back and forth for what felt like an hour.

If I would have known a year ago that he was bad news, I would have ignored Sheila and walked right out of the barber shop. I wish I had known the darkness that lay beneath his heart. I wouldn’t be in the situation I was in. I quickly pulled myself out of daydreaming and turned to my mom.

              “Yes. I need change,” I said. The truth was I didn’t want to be noticed that much in town, but then it crossed my mind that a shorter haircut would make me more noticeable. I’m already here. So I might as well do it. Plus, I just want something new.

I think I even want to move into the attic bedroom that my mom uses for guests. My bedroom triggers too many memories of Dylan and me. I’m not sure I’ll be able to last there much longer.

              I stared into the large mirror before me and my cheeks rose in a smile. I actually loved the pixie cut on me. It made me look taller for some reason. Sheila wasn’t in today, so a new stylist took on my hair.

I already felt new in some way. Now, all I needed was to get out of my room and into the attic. I held up the hand mirror and smiled even wider, seeing that he somehow covered up the bald spot.

              “How did you cover it up?” I asked him. The stylist smiled and made a circular motion around the spot where it was bald.

              “I layered the back, so it would cover it. If you keep styling it like this, no one will see it.” he explained, handing me a thin blue container of blueberry scented hair wax. He baby powdered my neck, removed the smock, and I got up from the chair and quickly had eyes on me.

Bailey, Sheila’s friend, gave me a thumbs up and my mom’s mouth was ajar in what seemed to be shock. I don’t know if that was good or bad, but I didn’t care. I needed this. I needed this for me.

              After paying for the haircut, my mom and I took a walk to Tillmans supermarket. As people passed, I could feel their eyes on me, burning into me like curious brandings. My heartbeat began picking up its pace, but I counted to thirteen, like this one website told me to do and when we got to the entrance doors, I fully calmed down.