What Lies Beneath (4 page)

I still belong to you.

              I threw the paper on the ground before me and scrambled off of the floor as if I were being chased by abnormally enlarged spiders. My heart leapt into my throat and my entire body started shaking. A hand clasped my shoulder and I turned, tears running down my cheeks and screaming my head off.

My mom stared at me as if had lost my mind and pulled me into her arms, caressing my back and telling me that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t. I knew it in my heart the moment I threw the paper on the ground.

              “Someone planted that damn note, right there, so she could see it. What sick fuck would do something like that?” my dad yelled running his hands through his thinning blond hair. I was watching them from my bedroom door, my mom with her arms wrapped around herself, staring down at the ground.

She had picked the note up from the ground at the discovery shop, read it, and shoved it into her purse. I was crying like a little girl, clutching my mom for dear life. Someone was deliberately messing with me… and the sad thing was that it was working. My dad called the police and now my parents were waiting for an officer to come. Things were going to get worse; I just knew it.

              “I don’t know Bill,” my mom said.

              “What was she doing in that damn store alone, Carol?” my dad turned away from the fireplace and stared at my mom. The look on his face scared me. He was the nicest, most caring man in town before the incident. But after it was like something took over him.

              “I let her go in there by herself. I shouldn’t have done that,” my mom brought her hands up to her face and smeared her mascara across her cheeks.

              “
What the hell were you thinking?
” my dad tapped the side of his head with his fingers hard, his teeth gritted, and his face as red as a tomato. I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up from the floor and marched out into the living room. I wasn’t going to let my mom take the blame for me. She was right, it wasn’t a good idea and now she was suffering for my ignorance.

              “Dad, stop. I wanted to go into the discovery shop, I was tired of being treated like a child and I wanted some kind of freedom. So don’t blame mom. If you are going to yell at someone, yell at me.” Before he could respond, the front door bell rang and my dad hurried past me and answered it. I was about to leave and go back to my room when my mom stopped me.

              “Blair, stay here. You have to tell him how you came upon the note and he’s going to ask questions.” I didn’t want to deal with any of this right now, but I knew there was no way out of it. So I tossed myself into my dad’s recliner and brought my legs up and folded them beneath me, the flames of the fireplace warming me up. It was the middle of fall and but it felt more like winter.

              Officer Benson sat on the arm of our couch, my mom eyeing him. She liked her furniture kept perfect and he might as well have wiped his boots on the fabric. He pulled out a notebook and combed back his chin length red hair, sniffing in a load of mucus. He was definitely grossing my mom out.

The stubble on his face indicated he hadn’t shaved in a few days and his blue eyes had bags that looked more like swollen tea bags. He seemed tired as hell and probably didn’t want to be here. I didn’t blame him. There had more police officers in my house in the past month, more than a whore house would probably have in a whole year.

              “So what happened?” he asked in a heavy southern accent. Nearly everyone in Hanson has an accent, as if they all just washed ashore from the swamps. I didn’t have an accent. We’d only been living in Hanson for seven years, ever since we moved from California.

Finally, I took a deep breath and dived into my story, leaving out the part where I met Tate. I didn’t think it mattered and it wasn’t really any of his business. He nodded as I spoke, never once looking down at me. He didn’t seem to give a shit, and it showed so much that my dad looked as if he were about to erupt, tomato juice all over my mom’s flawless carpet.

              “What can you do?” my mom asked. At last, he turned to my mom and shoved the notepad back into his back pocket.

              “There really is nothing we can do. You’ve got all of your finger prints on the evidence and to me it seems like someone is just playing with Blair. Kids are sick these days ma’am. But if anything bigger happens let us know.” It must have taken everything in my dad not to throw him out of the front door, but he walked him out and softly closed the door behind him.

He kept his head down as he left the living room, not a word from him the rest of the night. He didn’t even eat dinner with me and my mom. All I kept thinking while I was eating was what had to happen for them to do something?

Did someone have to die for them to get off of their asses and help me? Somehow at the back of my head, I knew someone, either me or my parents would have to get physically hurt in order for something to get resolved. And I knew the person getting hurt would be me.

5

              “Why would someone do that to you?” Max asked as he slowly spun in my swivel desk chair. It had been a few days since I’d seen the note and so far nothing else had surfaced. No letters, nothing yet.

But I can feel that something is different now. Ever since I woke up in the hospital, it was like something was trying to let me know that things were never going to be the same and that everything would soon change and not for the good. I don’t know why I felt that way but it was just there, lingering in my mind.

              “I don’t know… but the only one who knew that Dylan called me Blair Bear was him. How could someone else know that?” I sat up against the headboard of my bed and wrapped my arms around my knees. No one else could have known that.

              “He’s dead, Blair.” Max stopped spinning and stared directly into my eyes. His voice had changed, but no matter how deep it got, I would always recognize it. He had cut his hair short and dyed it a dark blue, showcasing the two inch wide green gages in his ears that matched his stunning green eyes.

I had missed Max so much since the incident. My dad had finally let him see me today and it felt good to have my friend back. But I couldn’t help but feel that he was acting a little different around me. As if I were a priceless porcelain doll that could not be touched, handled, or shattered. He even sat in my desk chair instead of on my bed, which he never did. We were so close, like brother and sister, but now something was definitely up.

              “Don’t freak on me. I do think he is dead, but maybe he’s haunt-”

              “Blair, stop.”

              “No. This is how I feel, Max. I’m not going crazy, I’m just being as open minded as I can right now. It’s possible, I’ve read about it.” Max had his head dipped down over the back of my chair, but now he was staring back up at me, his eyes wide and shocked. Ever since the note, I’d been up most nights reading through paranormal websites and articles about experiences with loved ones who didn’t want to leave someone behind.

There were even some sinister experiences with the dead. A woman’s abusive husband had passed away, but soon after his death he was still with her, haunting her. He would throw things around her bedroom and push her down the stairs. I’m not one to believe stuff like this, but that note set something off in me and now I won’t stop until I figure out if Dylan is really still after me, even though he’s supposedly dead.

              “You’ve been reading about what?” Max asked. This time, he arose from the chair and sat on the foot of my bed.

              “Paranormal stuff. I know it sounds crazy, Max. But you were the one who told me about Pearl.”

              “She’s a kook, Blair. Don’t do this to yourself. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere okay? Talk to me, not Miss Cleo.” Max’s eyes were attached to mine, as if he were trying to persuade me to stop thinking about the paranormal stuff. But it wasn’t going to just go away. Something big was going to happen first before it fully left me alone. I just knew it deep down.

              “You don’t have to believe in anything. Thank you for being here for me, but I need some more help, Max. I’m going to go see Pearl tomorrow.” Max exhaled deeply and grabbed the sides of his head in frustration.

              “Fine, I’ll take you.”

              Rain pattered against my bedroom window. The attic had been easier to convert than I thought. Everything went well with the wood paneled walls and the rectangle window above my desk. My mom had quickly turned my old room into a sewing room, which I was glad about.

She had always wanted to do that to the attic, but never got around to it. But I told her that she could use my room since it was much easier to get to and smaller to renovate. And it would hopefully get her mind off the note incident for a while.

              Ever since Max left, all I could think about was getting to see Pearl. People around here don’t believe in paranormal or supernatural things so she gets shunned a lot. But I just think people are close minded and don’t get it.

There were so many things I wanted to ask her and get off of my chest. But I can be shy often, so maybe only a couple of the things I want to say will escape my mouth, while the rest would marinate in my brain for the rest of my life.

I wanted so badly to see Lauren. She needed to know that I didn’t blame her or her parents for what Dylan did. She had gotten it so bad in school and in town. Max had admitted to breaking Dylan’s bedroom window with a few guys from his job, the day after I was in the hospital. One of them threw a brick through Lauren’s window too. Max explained that not a lot of people were talking to her or her parents in town; some even told them they had to leave certain stores and restaurants. They didn’t deserve that.

“
Dad?
” I called as I entered the living room, fully dressed and ready to walk out the front door. I wanted him to drive me to the Morgan’s house. I didn’t know how he would feel about it, but it is what I want right now. It was only five in the afternoon and we’d make it back by dinner.

“Over here,” he replied. I turned to the kitchen archway and saw him on a step ladder fixing the small chandelier in above the table. Down the hall to my right, I could hear the sewing machine and the soft sound of classical music coming from my old bedroom. I didn’t want my mom to object to where I wanted to go, so I needed to ask him quickly.

“Can you take me by Dylan’s?” the ladder tipped back and he snapped his head over to me, his eyes large.

“What?” he breathed. As if he never expected me to talk about him again.

“I want to talk to Lauren. I need to tell her something,” I explained as I took quick glances down the hall. I didn’t want my mom to walk in right now. “Please, dad. I need this right now.”

It had been a while since my dad had driven me anywhere. The look on his face as he started the engine of his truck made my heart sink. He really didn’t want to do this. But he was doing it for me.

I looked up from my cold hands and saw that we were already in the ‘rich’ side of Hanson. The plantations always gave me the chills even though they were full of expensive and arrogant people. My dad turned on Barrow Street and I started to feel like I couldn’t breathe.

I inhaled and exhaled as softly as I could, trying not to disturb my dad or get his attention. I didn’t want him to turn the truck around. We were already so damn close. I watched as the house came into view, its wide windows dark and free of Mrs. Morgan’s pricey Egyptian curtains.

The house was dead. Dried Egg yolk and toilet paper covered the front exterior of the house and three of the six front windows were shattered to bits. My dad parked the car in the driveway and sat his hands on his laps.