The Minds Eye Chapter Five

 

Chapter 5
Where the heart is.

The cigarette fell from her fingers to the ground below. It hit hard, its cherry exploding into a thousand little embers upon the dirt. Exhaling the smoke in her lungs with a sigh she looked to the horizon, it’s blues, purples, pinks, oranges, and gold’s, all merging together creating a kind of chaotic tranquility. The sun setting, she knew she would be expected home soon.

Her cell phone rang its catchy little tune for the tenth time. Her parents were probably climbing the walls right now. They had probably called all of her friends by now wondering where she was. Her mother had always been the over reactive sort, never listening to her, just pretending to hear, never acknowledging the fact that she was something other than just her daughter. Then there was her stepfather. Ex-military with a personality like a wet sponge. He was a good provider but as far as she was concerned that was all he was good for. Needless to say they never quite saw eye-to-eye.

Home, she thought again, it was a term she used only sparingly. It never gave her the feeling that word should inspire in someone. That Donna Reed, Family matters, kind of family just never happened in the real world. For her, home was just a place for her to eat and rest, if she was able or willing to do either while there. She chose to stay away as much as possible. To her it was easier then spending her time their arguing about anything and everything just because it was the only way to communicate in that house. She dreamt of getting out on her own, away from it all, to find some place that made her feel that feeling of home.

There were few places that offered her solace from the world around her. The high school gymnasium was one such place. She would often stay there for hours on end. The hill where she now sat now however was her most favorite. On a clear day she could see the entire town. People rushing to and from whatever gave their lives meaning. She liked it up here; it was peaceful, quiet and beautiful. It was a special place, her own little undisturbed corner of the world. She felt alive here.

Vivian Reynolds, or Vy as she like to be called, had lived her entire life in Cameron, thus she knew most everyone in the town. Frankly, she didn’t care for most of them. In fact, she had come to a decision some time ago that the inhabitants fit into two major categories, The families who had always lived there living out their lives like they were still in the “good ole days” completely ignorant of the growing world around them.
Then there were those who had, in the past ten years or so, moved to the once quiet community and turned it on end. The majority of this new crowd was upper crust snobs. Money ruled there world and no amount of it could buy them the smallest amount of real class or tact. It seemed that to this new crowd the true value of human life was solely dependant on the size of his bank account.

In the past ten years Vy had seen the population of Cameron more than double. It was odd to her the power some publications had. Some better living magazine had termed Cameron the “Ideal Midwestern Town” to move to. Hundreds of new families flocked to the town like ravenous vultures. Voices cried out to the town council in protest. The council however convinced those voices that the insurgence would bring only good things, namely money. Of course the easily swayed peons ate up the gruel handed them as though it were a delectable filet minion.

First a large Golf course and country club was built along with a cart path that not only surrounded it but all of Cameron as well. Anyone who had his or her own personal cart never needed to walk anywhere again. A three story mall of America was erected in town and next to it a large movie theatre. Then came the car dealerships, skating rinks, and strip malls, most of the little mom and pop businesses that had been staples in Cameron since its founding were soon overshadowed by bigger, better, and often cheaper versions. Those that weren’t bought out or forced into bankruptcy lasted only long enough for the rising crime rate to take a firm hold on their profits.

Crime was something that was never realized before in Cameron, something witnessed on the news and talked about in hair parlors. Now it was mainstream and though he, as sheriff and head council member, would never admit it, Police chief Richards and his force were ill equipped to handle the number of criminals that now resided in his town. Still with all the changes that had taken place, no one would have ever expected the events of the past two days.

Standing, Vy patted the dirt off of her baggy black jeans the myriad of chains and metal rings attached to the playing a sharp biting melody as she did so. Her small breasts heaved as she stifled a yawn and stretched her tall slender frame. Bending over she grabbed her pack of Marlboro’s sitting by the brook that flowed from the small hillock, her reflection smiling back at her with its shoulder length pitch-black hair. Beginning the slow walk home she thought back to the events of the day, the events that caused her to come here.

First, yesterday shortly after third period, a student, Terry Cartwright had been brutally beaten and rushed to the hospital where he was placed in Intensive care, the students were sent home and school was closed for the remainder of the day. When Vy woke this morning, she was greeted by the news of the boys passing from her mother as she left. Though Terry was a member of the “It” crowd that Vy never cared for, it was always a tragic thing when someone passed. Especially when that someone was a person you saw every day. With this weighing on her mind it was no surprise the schoolyard was full of vehicles when she arrived there. Police cars, E.M.T.’s and news vans filled the grounds. What was surprising was that the news of the student passing away was not there cause for being there. Early this morning another body was found. Police chief Richards and Principal Sanders in an impromptu meeting closed the doors of the school until further notice. Though they were not able to release any real information, they asked for any information on the whereabouts of another student and warned, if seen to call the police immediately. The student was Brian Dickerson.

Vy had known Brian, probably better than most, considering that most never took the time to know him. Both of them being the same age and having many things in common it was hard for her to believe that he was wanted for questioning. It wasn’t till later she heard; someone must have leaked some info to the media, that there had been three deaths. Terry, dying in his comatose state, The boy this morning found crucified to the goal post in the football field turned out to be Derrick Marshall, the most popular guy in school as well as the son of the richest man in town, and lastly Brian’s very own mother, found nearly decapitated in her own kitchen. Vy was confused. Brian never seemed the type for this.

In her eighth grade year, Vivian had met and fallen in love with a fellow student, Dominick Rhodes. At first it seemed like a love strait out of fairytales. Sadly when the last page of their story was turned there was no “Happily ever after.”

Dominick had gone through a dramatic change in their time together. His loving nature turned to that of control and abuse. Never letting her go anywhere with him and never wanting her to go anywhere without him. When it came time that they did go out together she had to do what he wanted and couldn’t talk to any of her guy friends or in his jealousy they would argue. “Well if you wouldn’t dress like a w***e!” he would yell. Still she felt she loved him and tried to change herself to suit him. It wasn’t till his abuse became physical that she decided she needed to end it. In the weeks after her grades began to falter. She knew it would pass and she would get over it but her parents thought otherwise and opted for a tutor.
  
Though she felt she didn’t need it, she decided it was a way to get out of the house. Brian having enrolled in the schools tutor program was assigned to her. At first she dreaded this, Brian was never the charismatic type, he never talked unless it was in a class discussion. From her preconceptions of him she was surprised to see how different he was around her, it was as though he were a different person altogether. Talkative, confident, humorous, she would have never expected this of him. In time she began to enjoy her time with him. They would study for hours on end and talk about their lives. She told him about Dominick and he told her about his dreams. In time they became friends.

Just like a dream though, it ended in that displaced unknowing kind of way all to common to the young. She passed that year and when the next came around she didn’t see much of him. Maybe a slight wave in the hall or a greeting in passing, but never what it was before. She had always wondered why. In some ways she could have seen herself with Brian. He was attractive and intelligent; they both shared similar beliefs and ideals. She couldn’t help but wonder why their friendship ended how it did.

“Maybe it was just meant to be, but what caused him to flip out like he did?” she wondered aloud as she approached the two-story Victorian house that never quite felt like home to her. A small opening in the blinds flapped shut. Tossing her cigarette she shook her head as she strode up the cobblestone walkway to a now opening door.

********************

The sound of ice clinking against the side of an empty glass reverberated loudly in the near deserted tavern. A pair of jovial eyes, reddened by the smoke hanging like thick fog in the air, and a beak like nose appeared from behind the bar.

”…One more Robert?” The bartender tried to hide the hesitation in his voice. Apparently Robert hadn’t noticed the pause. He just made a universal grunt of agreement and tilted the glass forward.

Kenneth hated nights like this. In his years owning the aptly named “Hole In The Wall” Pub he had come to know Robert Burstow well, in fact, he would say they had become close friends in that time. The man was one of those old warriors a hard a*s, tough as nails, Humphrey Bogart kind of cop. The type with a past haunts them. Like some vengeful spirit Roberts past trailed him wherever he went. His only defense had become the booze he now downed religiously each night.

 Ten years ago Kenneth first met the Detective. He had come in one evening after his shift and sat in the farthest corner of the room. The usual crowd was there spinning tales and winding down from whatever job they came from. Robert just sat there, never saying a word except to ask for another drink. Several nights this had been the case and like any good bartender, Kenneth wondered what his new regular customers story was.

  It was a Tuesday night, cold and “The Hole” as it was known by most, was practically empty. Like clockwork Robert walked in, standing there for a moment he took in the warmth of the old building. Nodding, he exhaled into his hands and walked to the bar.

 

Author's Note

not finished yet