Just Another Name

Karys has lost her parents and has no where left to turn, except for two voices.

 

                “Stop your crying,” The voice spat, “it was nothing more than a dream!  Your tears won’t bring your parents back.”

His words only made me cry harder.  Ever since my parents died last year, the voices have been so demanding.  There was that one voice, the one who told me so many bad things.  He told me people were after me, that the only way to protect myself would be to lash out at other people.  He scared me.  The only way for me to cope was to hurt myself, that’s the only way he would stop talking.  I have many scars, down my arms and legs, from times when the voice became too much.  The only thing that comforted me, when I felt alone, was the other voice; the one I was so sure belonged to my own personal angel sent to comfort me with words as soft and sweet, as only the clouds they lived on could be.  “Cry honey,” she cooed, “You miss your parents and your dream only made your desire, to be in their loving embrace one more time, stronger.” 

            Curled up on my ratty, old couch, I cried.  I cried for my parents, who never got to see me graduate from college.  I cried for the life they left behind.  I cried because I would never be able to hear their tender words of encouragement and support.  I clutched my red, worn throw pillow to my chest, as all the pain from the past year came crawling out of the bottle I tried so hard to keep it in, but every night, I would have a dream, of my mom singing me to sleep at night, or my dad and I playing checkers like we often would.  These dreams rip at my heart and never allow me any sleep.  All I have is the ticking of the clock and my voices to keep me company.

            After what seemed like hours, I ran out of tears.  I dried my eyes and checked the clock. 2:30. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep, so I got up and crossed the tiny apartment living room into the mini kitchenette.  I opened the door of the refrigerator with a squeak and searched for the carton of milk I bought yesterday.  My eyes were still blurry, but I managed to put my hands on the carton and pull it out.  I stood on my toes and got a glass down from the top cabinet and started to pour the milk.  “Don’t drink that!” the voice yelled “It’s full of poison!”

“No, it’s not… It’s never been opened…”  I shook my head and tried to reason with him.

“Fine. Drink the poison.  See if I care.”

I looked at the already poured milk.  It seemed like it had an unusual yellow tint.  The expiration date was still good, but I was scared to test it.  I poured the carton and the glass down the sink, making sure to wash the glass an extra two times before putting it up.  Dropping the carton in the trash, I walked over to the bathroom.

            I stepped in the cramped room and turned on the light.  In the harsh light, my features seemed even more pale and sunken than usual.  My dark eyes had circles underneath them, and my hair clung to my cheeks, wet with tears.  I looked horrible, but I didn’t even care.  My looks mirrored my feelings.  I was filled with despair and hopelessness that not only my parents were gone from this earth, never to return again, but that I was some kind of freak.  Not only did I hear voices, but I listened to them.  They would tell me what I should eat for breakfast, what I should wear.  The doctors told me it was normal after my parents died; Post-Traumatic Stress. But now, I was starting to think it was something more than that.  The voices have started telling me that people are out to get me, that my parents’ death wasn’t an accident.  They think someone was out to get my family.  I try to ignore them as much as possible, but their words make sense to me, which only made me feel worse.  “If you don’t find their killer, you could be next… Just another name in the obituaries…”  They would tell me.

            Trying not to think of all the negative, I turned around and opened the closet to get a washcloth.  Turning the warm water on, I grabbed the soap and ran it under the hot water along with the washcloth.  I rubbed them together furiously and washed my face.  Feeling the warmth on my face made me feel better than I had been feeling.  I shut off the water and turned off the light.  I left the bathroom, and went to my couch and looked out the window.

            My apartment window overlooked Park Street.  There was nothing special about Park Street, but I have always loved it.  It was quaint.  Old houses lined the street where it turned into South Main Street.  Going east, there are a few businesses like Bangor Savings Bank, Orono’s House of Pizza, and, where I worked, The Thriftway Grocery Store.  After that, there are a few houses, but mostly empty fields.  Everything was really green in the summer; everything comes alive with so much vibrancy, you expect the plants and trees to be dancing in the warm summer breeze.  But in the winter, like now, everything was grey.  Trees had no leaves and most plants withered up and died.  It had just snowed last week and everything was still coated with at least five inches of snow.  The power lines shook horribly in the frigid breeze, and I was glad I was inside my warm apartment.

            “What am I going to do?” I thought, “It’s not even three AM and I’m scared to go back to sleep.”  Tears started to well up in my eyes again.  

“Go back to sleep, child.  Everything is going to be OK.”  I listened to my angel’s voice and lay back against the couch.  The couch may be old, but that’s what made it such a wonderful place to lie.  I closed my eyes and let the arms of sleep embrace me.

***

            “Karys!  You’re going to be late!”

 I woke up to someone pounding at my door.  I had to wait a minute to be sure it wasn’t just in my head.  “Karys!”

  I knew now it was Danny, my next door neighbor.  He had been such a help to me as I tried to live a normal life.  Danny had helped me get a job at The Thriftway when I moved in after my parents died.  He manages that store.  Danny is the closest thing I have to a friend.  No one wants to deal with the crazy girl who is depressed and hears voices, but Danny has always been there to check up on me and help me when I need it.  I rolled off the couch and sleepily dragged my feet to the door.  When I opened it, Danny was standing there in The Thriftway uniform every employee had to wear: khaki pants, a white collared shirt, and a green Thriftway vest.  His light brown hair was neatly combed into place and he looked fully awake, unlike me with unbrushed hair and still in sweatpants.

            “Sorry, Danny, I’ll be up and out within the next ten minutes.”

I said my voice thick with sleep.  Danny gave me a wary look and said, “Didn’t sleep good again, huh?” 

“No, I didn’t.”  I said, slightly annoyed.

  Since when was it his job to check up on me?  “He’s wants something from you…”

  The voice sent shivers up my spine as I realized he could be right.  “No, he’s just concerned about you.  He’s being a good neighbor.”

  The comfort that the voice brought washed over me as it dispelled the other voice’s harsh accusations.  “I’m sorry.  Tonight will be better, you’ll see,” he smiled, “See you at work.”

 Danny turned and walked away, jogging down the stairs.  I closed the door and went to my room.

            The early morning light was creeping in under the window curtains, so I pulled them back to let it in.  The sun’s rays crept across the floorboards of the old apartment giving everything a yellow glow.  I watched as dust particles danced happily in the morning light; climbing and dipping wherever the air took them.  I checked the clock on my dresser; 6:23.  I had time.  I opened the drawers to my old oak dresser and pulled out the same pieces of clothing that Danny had on.  Laying my clothes on the bed, I admired my favorite comforter from home.  It was a satiny, blue material with purple flowers embroidered across the surface.  My mom and grandma had worked together to make it for me when I was four.  Before the tears could well up in my eyes, I began to change into my work uniform.

            Tossing my dirty clothes in a pile on the floor, I jogged to the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth, I would have to do without breakfast.  I grabbed my keys and struggled into my parka.  Whenever I wore this jacket, I felt like a big, fat marshmallow.  Leaving my apartment, I locked the door and ran down the stairs.  I always took the side stairs to avoid the other people who lived in the building.  People weren’t mean to me, but they weren’t particularly nice either.  One person in particular, Carla, who lived on the first floor, went to great lengths to let me know that she was keeping her eye on me.  She always made some kind of comment when checking out at The Thriftway about the management needing to watch who they hire.  I tried not to let her comments get to me, but deep down, her words really hurt.

            Stepping out into frigid winter morning, I pulled my parka closer and made my way down Park Street.  Every day I follow the same routine.  Get up, walk to work, work about thirteen hours, go home, maybe eat, and maybe sleep.  They only thing that keeps me guessing is what kind of sleep I’ll have that night.  Walking along Park Street, there aren’t any sidewalks, so I had to be extra careful where I stepped.  As I strolled along, I took notice of all the effects winter had on the landscape.  The snow made everything seem softer.  Icicles hung from the branches of the trees and glinted in the sun and the melting, slushy snow made it hard for me to walk.

            Five minutes later, I walked through the uneven parking lot and into the automatic doors of The Thriftway.  The store smelled of fresh produce and the cold, dryness of an open freezer.  I passed many aisles of boxed and canned goods and went in to the employee’s room.  I clocked in at 6:31; only one minute late.  I left my parka in my locker and went out to find Danny and see what tasks needed to be taken care of first.

            I found him restocking the canned fruits on aisle four.  “Ok.  I’m here.  What’s first?” I asked Danny.

 “Well, you can finish stocking the shelves here and then there are boxes of snack foods for aisle eight that need to be put up.  I’m going to go work on putting out the produce before we open at seven.”

  With that, Danny left the piles of boxes and went to work with the produce.  I stooped down and started putting the cans on the shelves, one by one, until the boxes were empty.  Juggling the boxes, I made my way to the storage room in the back.  I saw that people were already coming in.

            Dropping the boxes in the recycle bin, I grabbed the rest of the boxes that needed to be put out.  I made my way to aisle eight, struggling to see over the stack of boxes.  I smiled politely to the customers that I passed, but they tended to just to look the other way.  I finished stocking the snacks and went to open another cash register.  Danny and I weren’t the only ones who worked here, we just worked the most.  I was struggling to pay off my college loans and my apartment, so I worked extra hours hoping that I wouldn’t drown in debt.  I spent the next four hours ringing up people’s groceries.  To be such a small store, we did a good business.

            I greeted the customers with tight smiles and nods, I didn’t feel real comfortable talking to anyone, but none made the effort to talk to me either.  I didn’t break for lunch, I just kept working.  “You don’t need food.  You’re fine without it.”  The voice said.

 I listened to him and kept working, ignoring the rumblings in my stomach.  Time passed slowly, like it did most of the time.  One customer after the other, I never really recognized them.  I stayed hidden away in my apartment for as long as I could, never really straying unless it was necessary.  I guess that’s why people tended to keep their distance, but they had good reasons.  I did hear voices after all.

            “Well I guess I have no other choice than to check out here, since this is the only register open.” 

I recognized Carla’s voice.  Hearing her words I checked the clock and realized it was almost closing time; I hadn’t noticed.  I kept my eyes on her groceries as they rolled along the conveyer belt.  “I guess The Thriftway is still getting their employees from the loony bin.”  I heard her mumble.

  I chanced a look up and saw her staring furiously at me.  Her eyes were icy blue, mirroring her words.  She was always so prim and proper; her eyebrows were perfect lines, there was never a hair out of place.  Carla always wore the best looking clothes; expensive brands from Dillards and Macys.  She really looked like a wicked witch today, dressed in mostly black and her long, black hair hanging down her back.  I disregarded her last comment.

            I finished ringing up her items and told her the total.  “Dear God!  You would think I’m buying out the Taj Mahal with these prices,” she exclaimed.

Not knowing what to say, I just stood there waiting for the receipt to print.  Danny, hearing Carla’s frustrated words, came around the corner of one of the aisles to see what the matter was.  “Something wrong Carla?”  He asked.

 “You bet there is,” she said, starting to raise her voice, “These prices are outrageous!”

  I stood there silently, watching the exchange.  “Well, I’m sorry, but if you don’t like it, then you will just have to find another place to shop.  I can’t control the economy.”

  Carla shot a horrible look at Danny.  “Well, I certainly will.”

  Turning to me she said, “The help here is miserable anyway.  How hard would it be to hire sane people?  She does nothing but stand there anyway.”

  She grabbed her bags, turned, and stomped out the door.

            I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks.  Danny turned around to see me wiping at my eyes.  “Hey, don’t cry.  Carla’s a jerk.”  Looking closer at me he said, “Go on home, I’ll lock up the store.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I turned to dart for my locker in the back room.  As soon as I had my parka, I was out of there.  I felt miserable, like something was breaking inside me.  I knew that most everyone didn’t have very good opinions of me, but I never knew they were so critical.  All I wanted was to get over my parents’ death and live a normal life, but no one seemed to care.  I couldn’t hold in all the pain I was feeling anymore, like a dam breaking in my head, I felt like I was exploding.  I knew I was losing grip on reality, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

            As soon as I got to my apartment building, I ran up the side stairs and into my room, fumbling with the keys.  Locking both locks on the door, I dropped my jacket and threw myself on the floor.  Curled up in a ball, I leaned against the wall and sobbed.  I was spiraling down into a deep, dark hole.  Something inside of me had snapped and there was no way for me to fix it.  “You don’t need to fix it.  You’re better off this way, trust me…”  I heard the voice, and for once, he didn’t really scare me. 

“Everything will be ok Sweetie, you’ll see.” 

The other voice chimed in and I stopped crying.  I suddenly felt hope, that things would really be ok.  “It’s Carla.  She’s been after you since day one.  It must have been her that hit your parents’ car head on, and walked away without even a scratch.” 

He was right, he made sense.  Why else would she be so rude to me if she wasn’t.  “No, Honey, listen to reason… Don’t do anything rash…” 

The voice that had comforted me so much throughout this whole year was starting to annoy me.  “Carla needs to be punished for what she has done…”

He was talking to me, barely whispering, but I heard him loud and clear.  I knew what I was going to do; I made up my mind then and there.  It was time for my revenge, after a year of suffering and torture.  I then did something I thought I would never do again; I smiled.

***

            I was sitting at my kitchen table, planning the perfect murder, when I heard a knock at my door.  It must be Danny, back from the store to check on me.  “Don’t answer the door.  He knows.”  

I went rigid in my chair.  I had barely made up my mind to kill Carla.  How could Danny know already?  The knocking became more persistent but soon stopped.  He must have given up.  I went back to my plotting.  How would I carry out this act of revenge?  Certainly it wasn’t a crime; everything I would be doing tonight would be justified.  Carla deserved what was coming to her, and she knew it.

            I got up and walked to my window looking out at the cold winter’s night.  Sitting in the middle of a pile of snow, I saw one single poppy.  There was no snow on it; it stood proud, its red petals reaching out as if waiting for a hug.  “You know, they call poppies the death flower…”

I couldn’t tell which voice was which anymore.  Perhaps my angel’s voice had left.  I wasn’t sure, but whoever’s words they were made me smile.  It must be waiting with me until I decided to leave, for Carla was sure to die tonight.  I turned from the window and looked at the clock.  8:27.   I decided to wait a while before making my way down to Carla’s apartment.  I sat down on the floor and cocked my head to the side as I watched the clock.  With every tick of the clock, I felt even more relaxed.  They comforted me.

            Soon I wasn’t staring at the black clock on the wall of my apartment.  I was looking at the old purple clock that matched my bedspread, sitting on my nightstand back home.  I looked around and I was in my old room.  Cream colored walls, hardwood floors, purple and pink rugs.  All my old furniture was exactly where it was supposed to be.  My large canopy bed was in the dead center of the room, my dresser along the wall next to the door, and the window seat running along the bottom of the opened window that looked out to our back yard where my dog, Bones, played.  I missed Bones.  He chewed trough the tether that kept him in the back yard, and ran out in the road.

 I got up off the floor and turned to the door.  I found my parents standing there, watching me.  They looked proud, tears welling in their eyes.  “That’s our girl.” My dad whispered, “Such a beautiful young lady.”

  His words made me start to cry.  My mom came forward and put her arms around me.  She smelled the way she always did, like flowers and strawberry shampoo.  I hugged her back and cried harder.  My dad came over and put his arms around the both of us.  It was nice to be in their loving embrace once again.  We stood there for a while, but all too soon, they stepped back.  “You’re doing the right thing, baby girl,” my mom whispered through her tears. “Make us proud.”  

They turned to leave.  “I miss you guys… I love you…”

  They turned and smiled, and then they were gone, and I was standing back in the living room of my apartment.  My clock no longer said 8:27; it told me it was 9:00.  I decided that it was time.

***

            I made my way down two flights of stairs, careful to keep the silver knife hidden under my work shirt, in case I ran into anyone.  I approached Carla’s door and knocked loud enough that she would wake up if she was sleeping.  Carla soon came to the door. 

“Karys?!  What the…”

“I need to talk to you, Carla.  Can I come in?”

She just looked at me.  “Like I would let you…”

I shoved my way past her into her apartment.  Her furniture matched her clothing style; perfect and precise.  She had stainless steel appliances in her kitchen and leather furniture pieces in her living room.  I walked over to her couch and sat down, making myself comfortable watching the TV light up the dark room as images flicked across the screen.  I deserved to be comfortable after all she put me through.  “Hey!  Who do you think…?” 

“I know it was you who killed my parents!” I yelled.

  She stared at me with a confused look on her face.  “I don’t know what you are talking about!”  I was getting angrier.  “Don’t play stupid!  I know you did!” 

“Tell her you’re not going to put up with her anymore.”  The voice chimed in. 

“I’m tired of you and your attitude towards me!  I’m not going to put up with it anymore!”  I was gritting my teeth, my muscles tensing.

            “I…” She started.  I had her now. 

“You have to pay for what you did to my parents a year ago.  There’s no stopping me now…”  I was whispering and starting to smile.

 My parents were about to be revenged.  “Look, Karys.  Don’t do anything rash.  I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, but I didn’t kill your parents!”

She was starting to look worried.  “We can get you help.  I’ll be better, I promise.”

  I got up, closed the door, and locked it.  Turning toward her, I pulled the knife out from under my shirt.  “The only help I need is for you to be dead.”

            Carla screamed and ran into her room.  She tried to close the door, but I was too fast.  I had my arm in the door and started to push against her.  “This is it!”  The voice said, “Go for the kill!”

Carla was furiously looking for something to defend herself with, but I was quicker than her.  She took her eyes off me for one quick moment and I shoved my way in the room.  Carla backed up as I slowly approached.  “Go, go, go!” 

I slashed the knife out in front of me cutting Carla’s arm.  Carla was now against the wall.  As I brought the knife back to deal the final blow, Carla wrapped her hands around the curtains that hung over her window and pulled with all her strength.  The curtains came down along with the rod.  The curtains covered me and the rod hit me in the head.  I was caught up in the black and white curtain.  I couldn’t see which way was which.  My arm was caught and everything was getting twisted the more I tried to get out.

            Carla was screaming from across the room.  She must have crawled over her bed to reach the door.  “Come on!  You’re losing your chance!” 

I took a step and felt myself falling.  Terror coursed through me as I realized, I didn’t know where my knife was, but it was too late.  I felt the blade pierce my stomach.  Pain seared throughout my body.  My stomach was getting warmer as the blood seeped out of the wound.  I was scared and all I wanted was my parents.

 As the lights went out, all I heard was a voice saying, “I knew you would just be another name in the obituaries.”

Author's Note

This is, by far, one of my favorites that I have written, so, please, let me know what you think!

Reviews

[RavenWells]

I really enjoyed this story. It kept the reader interested and wanting to see what was going to happen. The only thing thing that I think you could fix is that it's hard to tell the gender of the narrarator until Danny shows up. Up until then I couldn't tell whether the character is male or female. Besides that it was a beautiful story. :)

[jennilouhoo]

Thank you! I never really noticed the gender part before, but that's definitely worth a second look, thanks!