Chapter 1

I glanced down at my pale, thin wrist habitually, forgetting for a brief moment that it was bare. The antique bracelet watch that my father had given me for my fourteenth birthday had been the last thing we sold. I remembered how miserable I felt when I placed it into the large, smooth hands of my buyer. His ruby ring on his middle finger glistened in the pale sunlight. My chin had quivered. I had been too sad to even look up at his eyes, as my tears sloshed onto his hand. We needed that money, I thought. At least I didn’t have to give away the necklace. My hand unconsciously traced the outline of the ‘R,’ as I reassured myself that my father’s last present to me was still there - for now. I sighed, trying to push back the sorrowful memories from last week to the back of my head. Gingerly, I placed my foot on the creaking step of the train, half expecting my foot to sink through the moldy wood.

“Hurry up you two,” a gruff voice barked behind me. Shooting back a murderous look to that man, I turned around and grasped my mother’s arm. Hurriedly, I pulled her up the last stair so she wouldn’t stumble in the thick of the crowd boarding the second-class train. The stale air in the train mixed with body odor engulfed me as I staggered under the weight of my crippled mother. Attempting not to gag, I held my breath as I led mom to the far end of what seemed like an unpolished wooden pew, one of the few train seats that was unstained by human waste. For what seemed like the hundredth time (but was probably more), I sighed and looked questioningly into her unresponsive eyes. Why? I thought. I had long since stopped asking my questions out loud, as they worried my mother and I didn’t want to be that constant thorn at her side. What was the point anyway? It’s not like I ever received a reply. Ever since my father died, mom had become so secretive and anxious. Every so often, she would glance over her shoulder as if worried that someone was stalking her, or that a murderer would appear out of thin air. I shuddered. No. I told myself sharply. I was not going to let myself think like that. I’m sure mom had something in mind when she sold all of our stuff so we could move. I was not going to lose her like I’d lost dad. I leaned back, but not before I cleaned the seat with my hand to wipe off any cobwebs. As fresh air wafted in through the shattered window next to my mother, I lay my head back and let my mind wander, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts and life within that last week.

 

~~~

 

My nose had led me through our garden, past my parent’s bedroom and mine, straight to the kitchen. Everyone said that my nose was smaller than a mouse’s and more sensitive than a dog’s, but there was no denying the aroma that came from the kitchen. I closed my eyes, inhaling every bit of the smell, almost as if I could taste it through my nose. As I neared our kitchen, I heard my mother muttering to herself over the din of the fan and her rhythmic chopping.

“Fool. That man. Forgets he has a daughter sometimes. Thinking of doing something as reckless as that. What is one his mind?” my mother grumbled to herself. I watched as her hand, holding the chopping knife, magically moved up and down, up and down, faster than I could follow. She never chops that fast, I had thought. Maybe she’s just angry. Probably another small tassel. Whatever. I shrugged and walked into the kitchen. As soon as my mother saw me, her face brightened up and all traces of worry disappeared from her radiant face.

“Happy birthday Rosie!” she exclaimed as she gathered me into a giant bear hug. “Guess what I made today? Your favorite - enchiladas!”

“I jhnow. I cujh shmell jhem from jhe garjhen,” I attempted to speak with my face squashed against my mom’s chest, “Jhu make jhem every jhear on my birjhay.”

“Oh my big girl, still got her sharp nose,” she gave me (and my nose) one last squeeze before she let go. “So how many pieces will you eat today? Last year you ate what - seven pieces before you spent the night emptying your stomach? How many this time?” She chuckled as she turned around and stirred the salsa. I rolled my eyes and grinned. Before I could answer, my father hurried into the kitchen. I turned around and gasped.

When I was five, I would marvel at the though of witnessing a miracle. Well, I guess I could finally brag that I did.

Dad was wearing all black. Yes, that was definitely a miracle. I had never seen dad wear anything but Hawaiian t-shirts and pants. Occasionally, he would wear multicolored t-shirts, but black was his forbidden color. Even his pants were never black. Until that day, I never even knew he owned a black shirt.

Dad noticed my astonished look. He looked uncomfortable and squirmed under my questioning gaze.

“I, uh, needed to head somewhere. Just a quick errand,” he said, as if that explained anything. The he grinned. “But, of course, not before we eat your mother’s famous Double Stuffed, Extra Cheese, Hot and Spicy Enchiladas,” he said enthusiastically. I stole a questioning glance at my mother, but her agape, yet terrified expression hid no secrets. She, apparently was as astonished as me. I guess I had learned not to question my parents too much, so I’d just shrugged and continued setting the table.

That last family meal that I had was just like the others. We had laughed, stuffed ourselves with enchiladas, and had eaten my favorite mud pie. Just as we were finishing, I got up to clear the table.

“No no no,” my mother said fake threateningly as she began systematically clearing the table. “Not today. It’s your birthday. Go out and enjoy yourself. Call Stacie over or go to her house. I, uh, need to speak to your dad for a minute.” I looked from my mom to my dad and back to my mom again, but they avoided my gaze, clearly too intent on playing the glaring game with each other. Slowly, I turned around and headed towards my room.

“I gotta change first.”

“Wait! Rosie, I almost forgot. Here.” My dad handed me a small box the size of my hand wrapped carefully in some worn-down red wrapping paper. My birthday present. Ever since I had turned five, my father had given me a present every year on my birthday. From his meager earnings, he would save up and buy me something special every time. Even though most were old-fashioned and out of date presents, I had cherished each token of love and kept them all safe.

I grinned.

“I thought you’d almost forgotten.”

“How could I? I give you a present only once a year.” He winked. “Open it.” Barely able to hide my excitement, I slipped my finger under the tape and carefully pulled it open. I gasped. It was a shiny silver necklace. The pendant was a gracefully carved letter for my initial “R.”

“Is this-” I looked up shocked.

“Yes Rosie. It’s real silver. We thought since you’re sixteen now, we’d give you something special,” my mom smiled, hers mirroring mine.

“OHMYGOSH,” I squealed unable to keep my excitement in any longer. I gave my dad a giant hug. “I love you.” My voice came out muffled on dad’s shirt.

“We love you too,” my dad replied.

“Now now, enough of the Kodak moment. I have some talking to do with your father,” she wiped a tear and looked sternly at my father. “Run off,” my mom playfully thwacked me on my behind to get me going.

I ran upstairs, a grin lighting my face. I grabbed the phone and gave Stacie a call asking if she could come over.

I had forgotten to listen to my parents’ conversation. If I had listened, I might have had some idea why my mother came to my room a few minutes later and told me that she and dad had to leave for somewhere and would be back in about an hour. I was too busy on the phone with Stacie to ask where they were going and just smiled back, too engrossed in my conversation to say anything else. Before I even realized it, they had left.

Stacie couldn’t come over. She had people over at her house. We talked for a while, and then she had to leave. I had spent the next few minutes meddling around, messing with my hair and trying different hairstyles I had seen the pop girls wear in my school. Before long, I was bored and didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, the phone rang. It’s Stacie, I thought. Maybe she can come over after all! I bounded over to the phone and peered at the ID. Huh. Anonymous? I picked it up anyhow.

That phone call changed my life. 

Author's Note

The format gets messed up when I copy/paste it, so all those random quotation marks you might see (that are not supposed to be there) are actually dashes.

Reviews/rating greatly appreciated :)

Reviews

[Tori]

Awesome! Very well written!

[JadeForever]

wow this is so good!!! its interesting and kept me on the edge of my seat all the way through...BRAVO unfourtunately i cant give you an idea for your title until ive read all of them. Until then..i repeat..BRAVO!!!

[Brittany]

This is an excellent first chapter. Great dialogue and description. Makes me want to read more. Good job.

Titles - I have trouble with that too....what about something like "Discovering the Secrets of My Past."

[Nima M]

I liked it alot, but it was kind of confusing. Is this story getting farther and farther in the past? The prologue mentions her name was lizzie or something, but since that was the prologue, I guess it doesn't count. Prologues hardly ever are in the same time frame as the rest of the story. But, then in the begining, it mentioned that her dad was dead, then the next part says she eats dinner with her dad. Un-confuse me, please.
Other than that, it was excellent. I'm really starting to get the feel of this whole horror-theme.

[Starcaller]

I love it! So far a very interesting story XD

[Anonymous]

For a first time writing this is amazing! The imagery used is fantastic and fits with the mood/atmosphere you've placed.
A great start I'll be sure to read on and hope that you continue this as it has great potential.
I wouldn't worry too much about the name, it will come :)

[SuicidePact.]

wow, you said this is your first book? wow you should write more, this was very good!

[AK]

Very nice! I loved the story line!