Keep Your Fingers Crossed Chapter 9

~009.00~

 

 “David...”

I glare at the wall, the reflection of myself in the mirror, cracked.  There's blood dripping off shards.  The somber eyes that peer into me with a glare, are red rimmed.  The twisted up face, scrunched in hate and disgust, is watching itself, the one that lies on the bed.  The wavy black hair is sheeted over with blankets, afraid to face it's family.  I blink, my pillow moist from where my head lies.

“David.”

I glare at Jennifer, glare at plump Emily, and glare at the spitting image I've become of my father.  They all look worried, or angered to some degree.

I fling the covers back, throw my arms around them all, and cry out, “I'm so sorry!  I'll be a good boy!  Promise! I'll eat all my food from here on out!  I'll never waste a bite ever again!!”

I pull the blankets farther over my head, still peering out at the cracked me.

“David,” dad says, a hint of bitterness in his voice, “Come on down stairs.  There's someone waiting for you.”

As hell if there is.

I cover myself completely, begging to Death that he come take me for suffocating myself.

“Mommy,” Emily nearly whispers, “Why is the mirror cracked?”

“I don't know honey,” she says gently.

I can tell she's looking at the blood drops then at her husband.

“Dav-- What the hell did you do?!” dad exclaims, anger mixed with horror criticizing itself in his voice.

I peek at his broken reflexion, then smile to myself smugly.  I lick the cut palm of my hand, then my knuckles to rid the blood from them.  Hot iron and metal seep paste my teeth, on to my tongue then, down my throat.

“Are you crazy?!” he demands, his voice strained as he flings the covers back from me.

There's a small blood puddle where my hand lies, still oozing out the red dark liquid.

I look at him innocently.  “I...I didn't do anything,” I lie.

Emily gasps.

“Yes you did!  You broke--”

“James!  Stop!” Jennifer barks, “We have guest!”

His face is a beat red, but torn in hurt.  He glares at me a moment longer, then leaves, being extra careful not to break anything, storm out, or yell.

I sit up, and stare at the cuts.

There's a chunk of glass in my other hand.

Jennifer moves to me quickly.  “Gimme that,” she says quietly.  “Emily, go down stairs.  Tell Cassandra that David will me down in a minuet.  Don't tell anything, understand?”

Emily nods, and leaves the room.

My eyes grow wide for a moment.

“Yeah. She's here.”

Before she can say anything more, I've thrown myself off my bed, and bolted down the stairs.

“What are you doing here?!” I demand.

“We need to talk,” she tells me bleakly.

“About what?”

“Kimberly.”

I wait.

 

...Kimberly...Kimberly...Kimberly...

...Merrily Making-A-Smile Kimberly...

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

“But--”

“I don't want to talk about her,” I spit, “I don't want to.  There's no point.”

“No...point?” Cassandra growls, “Oh.  There's a hell of a point.”

I stare at her through narrowed eyes.  “Really?”

She glares at me, tears welling up in her emerald eyes.  “I came here to talk to you about Kimberly,” she says shakily, the pitch of fear and devastation with some anger growing momentum as it rises.  “because she won't leave me alone!” she shouts, “My dead sister is haunting me!  She keeps asking for you every single time!  She wants you!  My mom and dad have seen her too!  Just...”  Her voice cuts as she begins to inhale and exhale in small gasps.  She clutches her hand to her chest, and bends over.

I don't know how to react.

My body is paralyzed.

I'm not looking at Cassandra.

I'm looking straight ahead.

 

...dead body found in a motel room, alone...

...dead body found in my home, alone...

...dead Merrily Making-A-Smile Kimberly found in my kitchen...

....Staring at me...

 

She smiles.