FicWad

Yesterday I spent the entire day glued to my dad’s side, contemplating whether or not I should tell him what was going on. I was so paranoid that I even watched him out of the corner of my eye when he got up for more junk food or to use the bathroom. Leslie was working, so I didn’t have to put up with any of her shit.

Which was the main reason I decided not to tell my dad what was going on; all he would do is tell Leslie, who would convince him that it was a load of bull. The last thing I needed was another bullet to add to Leslie’s gun of ammo against me. My life sucked enough as is.

However, I reasoned, going at this alone would be stupid. Who knew what this person was capable of? If they had the nerve to stalk me for pictures and then make threats against me and my family, then they certainly had the nerve to make those threats a reality.

My next question was something like: who the hell can I trust with this secret? I needed somebody who would tell me the truth about how they felt and somebody who would know what to do with the information I gave them. Obviously, neither of my parents was of much use, and I had a feeling I had already piled way too much onto Sebastian’s plate. In my heart, I knew that my Aunt Aubrey could be trusted.

That’s why today, while my dad is out doing God-knows-what with Leslie, I’m walking down to the library to talk to her. Both letters are tucked into the bottom of my backpack, which is slung over my shoulder. Autumn has officially settled in, so the wind is slicing through my sweatshirt and seeping into my bones. But my mind is so preoccupied that I barely notice.

Right now I was obsessing over last night’s dream. It scared me so much, but I knew somehow it was important, so I wrote it down in a notebook along with my other dream of my mom.



Fog surrounds me, clinging to my skin and making the air so heavy that it was hard to breathe. When it clears away, the ground is scarlet and sticky with liquid. I hear malicious laughing surround me, but I can’t find the source of it. I am suddenly aware of where I am.

All around me are children dressed up in colorful costumes dragging bulging bags of sweets behind them. They run from house to house, screaming blissfully, horribly unaware of the blood that covers the road. The evil laughing still echoes around me, but this time I know where it is coming from. I sprint down the street, plunging back into the heavy gray abyss.

By the time I reach my destination I’m gasping for air and the laughing seems to be right in my ear, but when I look around, I see no one. Finally I scream out: “Who’s there?”

More laughing ensues. “Where are you at, Veronica?”

My breathing picks up with my quickening heartbeat. I realize that Sebastian and I stood here on Friday night. And then, there, on the ground, is a large lump of a person. More scarlet liquid pours from the chest. Through my tears I can’t recognize who it is, but it doesn’t matter. Somebody has died, and I know that it is my fault.

My scream rips through the night before the laughing swallows me whole and I wake up.



“So you think you’re being stalked?” Aunt Aubrey verifies. I’ve just told her the entire story and handed her the notes and picture. When she reaches the picture her doe-like eyes widen and she quickly shoves it to the bottom of the pile. When she realizes the rest isn’t any better, she throws the pile onto the table with a frustrated thump!

“This is insane.” Aubrey gets up and stalks out a pace. Her choppy hair whips ferociously against her face when she turns. Finally she faces me with a fierce determination. “We’re going to the police. I don’t give a damn that you don’t want to make a fuss. This is fucking serious, and I’m not risking my brother-in-law’s life.”

Fingering my necklace--it’s just the key to my door on a chain since I don’t dare leave it at home anymore--I look at Aubrey. “I don’t want my dad to die too, Aubrey.” Tears spring into my eyes and roll down my cheeks, which I hastily wipe away.

Her face softens. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Its okay, we won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.” Wrapped in her arms in a hug that I desperately, I hear the creak of the hardwood floors.

My aunt and I whip our heads up at the same time, glares ready and filled with spite, only to blink confusedly and exclaim at the same time, “Sebastian?” Actually, I think my aunt said it more as an accusation while I presented it as a question.

He looks really guilty. And sad. With a dash of worried on the side. I know that he heard the whole thing, or at least the important parts. “What the fuck, Sebastian?” My aunt looks pissed now. “Can’t I have one private conversation with V in my library without an eavesdropper?”

“I didn’t--!”

I cut him off. “You’re fine. Whatever. I’ve already piled so much shit onto you I doubt you mind one more problem from my fucked up world.” I swear I catch Aunt Aubrey smirk at my profuse use of cussing towards Sebastian. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, and now she’s walking over to him and giving him the stank eye.

“Look. Remember what I told you Friday?”

He nods frigidly, blue eyes meeting mine, giving me a look like she’s going to kill me now, isn’t she? To freak him out, I shrug.

“Good. Now. What did I say?”

Clearing his throat and stepping a centimeter backwards, Sebastian states: “Veronica’s life is a bloody living hell, and if I don’t do whatever it takes to make it more bearable, my hide will be skinned and hung on your door.”

Nodding happily, Aubrey now says, “You’ve been presented with some new information. If you don’t use it properly, I’ll make sure to write ‘YANK’ across your forehead in big, bright red letters. Got it?”

Sebastian shudders. “You Yanks are bloody intimidating.” I snort and his eyes meet mine, now sparkling. “It is my honor to make sure that I do all I can in my power to keep Veronica happy and safe.”

Nodding, Aubrey steps back and turns to me. She winks and mouths you picked a good one. My cheeks warm.

While she goes off to clear the library and close it all up, Sebastian sits across from me. When he opens his mouth, I expect him to talk about the current problem at hand. But he throws me off guard and asks: “Did you change your mind about me?”

Moments tick by until I recall that Tuesday conversation on paper. I look at him incredulously, dumbfounded by the question he asked. Is he really that dim? “You redcoats are kind of stupid. You really think I’m going to avoid you after all of this?” His ice blue eyes slice through me, and I can tell he’s about to protest. “Listen, I’m not doing this for anyone’s sake but my own. Without you, I have no one--besides Aunt Aubrey--and I don’t want that. So don’t be all chivalrous and insist that you can’t ruin my life any more by sticking around within Ray’s view. If you walk out on me, I swear to God I’ll follow through on my aunt’s threat for her.”

Aunt Aubrey sweeps back into the room with a new frantic air around her. My eyes are glued to her hands, where she clutches a sturdy manila envelope. No return address. My name on it in blood red liquid.

“It was stuck to my desk,” she whispers, tossing it to me. Her eyes harden and her voice rises. “He was right here! He was fucking feet away from us!”

“Aubrey!” I take her by the shoulders to try to calm her down. Leveling my gaze with her, I say, “We’re fine. You need to sit down and relax.” Then I turn to Sebastian, who’s giving the envelope a scary look, but looks up when he sees me looking at him. “If you’re not willing to stay, then leave now and don’t speak to me again.”

With little hesitation he says “I’m not leaving.”

Fingers shaking and breathing ragged, I nod and pick up the envelope. While trying to open it, I cut my finger. The blood falls next to the ink and I swallow loudly: they are the same color.

Shaking off the queasiness that threatens to overcome me, I pull out another picture. “No!” I throw the picture down the ground, feelings of anger and sorrow stirring inside of me. My mother looks up at me, her warm brown eyes cold and unseeing. Her chest is torn open, and right where the heart is, there is nothing. Blood pools around her, soaking through her sweater and staining her favorite tee. Tears sting my eyes.

“Oh my God.” Aubrey picks up the picture and stares open-mouthed at her big sister’s dead body. “Annie.”

Sebastian’s arms are around my shoulders, giving me the strength to pull it together and read the note.



Veronica,

I loved your mother. We were very close, especially that first year. I met her when she was your age and let me tell you, we were in love and lust, all at once. But then she left me for your father, that imbecile.

I followed her, and she couldn’t resist. Just one more night together wasn’t too hard, was it? And then you came along.

You aren’t your father’s daughter. You are mine, just like Annie was mine too. She’s dead because I wasn’t able to see my own daughter. I just thought you might want to see her one more time J

Make sure your “father” knows how much you love him. Because soon he’ll be gone like your mother.

I love you, Veronica, my angel.

-DADDY



“Shit, Aunt Aubrey!” I yell at her as she blows off another red light. “Are you trying to fucking get us killed?” My knuckles are as white as my mother’s skin. Dead, ice cold skin, never to live again.

Fucking bastard. “What kind of father fucking kills the mother of his child and then threatens the damn life of the man that raised her!” I yell again, this time to Sebastian, who sits in the backseat, probably apologizing to my aunt’s car for my improper dashboard feet. Stupid fucking redcoat with his stupid fucking obsession to cars and their damn feelings; I bet he named his car: probably something stupid, like Elizabeth after his stupid queen.

Although I’m ready to spit out an angry retort to some smart-ass comment I’m sure he’s going to make, Sebastian simply tells my aunt that we missed our turn. You can tell that she’s irked, but it eases a little of the tension, which I’m thankful for.

“Damn,” Sebastian says a moment later. “You Yanks already have me memorizing your roads. I’m bloody screwed.”

I let out a nervous laugh as we pull into the police station parking lot, which was our destination. “I guess you’re going to turn into one of us sooner than you thought.” He shudders in response, even managing a wink, but I can tell he’s doing it just to soothe me.

There are two solitary cruisers in the parking lot, parked side by side right by the ext, as if they’re ready to spring into action at any moment. I feel sad for them; this town hasn’t seen any real action since my mother’s death.

Until now.

The door opens with a jingle too cheery for its gray interior: the station reminded me of a morgue. It wasn’t so much the appearance of it so much as the feel of the place. It seemed only sorrows and worries could be found here.

At the desk--the front desk?--sat a familiar face: Officer Reynolds. He was much older than when I first saw him--he was well into his fifties, if he wasn’t in his sixties already. He smiles sadly at me; that long ago guilt still there, ready to reemerge. “Veronica, sweetheart, it’s nice to see you. How are you?” He looks at Aubrey and smiles warmly, receiving crossed arms and an impatient tap of a foot. When he looks at Sebastian, his smile widens. “Hey there, my boy. You and your folks enjoying town?”

Before Sebastian can answer, Aunt Aubrey cuts him off with the most pissy and exasperated noise I’ve ever heard her make. “God damn it, George! My niece is being fucking stalked! And my brother-in-law is having his fucking life threatened! And you’re sitting there making fucking small talk?”

Another officer comes into the lobby and my aunt is temporarily distracted by what I know best as attraction. I almost slap her for her timing, but she shakes her head and cocks her hip. “I need to file a police escort or hire a detective or get an investigation started or something. And may God strike my fucking body down straight to Hell if no one lets me.”

His eyes widen in shock, the kind of shock people always experience when they get their first whiff of my aunt. Although she appears fairly innocent on the outside, her personality can definitely throw people off. Surprisingly, he regains composure quickly--perhaps he was trained to deal with half-insane family members--and leads her off to his office to go file some random crap. Officer Reynolds looks at me, assessing my mental state. Deeming me fit for communication, he says, “You’re going to have to come to the interrogation room with me, hon.” Then he looks at Sebastian and tells him he has to stay out here and wait. But I grab his arm.

“Sir, you don’t understand,” he responds slowly, worming out of my grip and lacing his fingers through mine, “I need to go in there with her. Veronica needs me to help her through the difficult parts.”

“Veronica? Is this true?”

I nod, grateful for my little Brit.

The interrogation room is gray, cold, and lifeless. In other words, I’m in another dimension of hell.



When we’re nearing the end of the questioning, I realize I’ve been leaning against Sebastian the whole time, and our fingers haven’t left each other’s. I don’t mind; he was right, I really did need him to help me through this.

Finally, we were on the most recent letter. I shut my eyes and buried my head in Sebastian’s chest when Officer Reynolds began looking through the photos, stifling tears again.

I can tell when he gets to my mother. He takes sharp intake of breath, and all goes silent. Without seeing, I know his eyes widen. Nobody found my mother’s body. But after awhile, we all knew her fate: death. Brutal murder. All of the clues added up to it. This picture, I know, will seal the investigation and bring it to a close at last.

It doesn’t crush me to know this. I knew a long time ago that my mom was never going to come back. But this was like a slap in the face, forcing me to face the truth: your mother was murdered and there was nothing you could do about it.

That’s the reason for my tears. Not self-pity, or grief for her death--although I have plenty of both--but having it shoved into my face. That hurts.

Officer Reynolds mumbles a temporary goodbye--he had to show this to the deputy. Sebastian nods in response, honoring the silence that I crave. But once that door closes, I know the silence is too heavy, too mournful. So I sniff my last sniffle and say bluntly “That sucked.”

Sebastian is smoothing down my hair with one hand and releasing our fingers to wrap his other arm around my shoulder. “Did you honestly expect anything better?”

“I guess not,” I reply quietly. Then I say, even quieter, “Thank you.” A smile curls my lips. “For a Brit, you’re not too shabby.”

He laughs, breaking the dreariness that the room emanates. “I could say the same for you, my little Yank.”

By the time Officer Reynolds gets back into the room, Sebastian and I are bickering over the superior nationality and the tears are dry on my laughing face. We go quiet, stifling our giggles and suppressing our grins. Officer Reynolds looks at us coldly, his voice reflecting it. “You have been stalked and now a picture of your dead mother has shown up and you’re laughing? I’m disappointed in you two, especially you Veronica.” My stomach drops. I have a sudden flashback to the day he interviewed me--D-Day. The way his voice dipped with condescending tones and pathetic eyes. My jaw locks, good mood vanishing.

“This just reinforces my thought of a prank, not anything serious,” he continues, nose high in the air. When I try to jump up and strangle him Sebastian pulls me back down, pinning me to the hard metal chair. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“What about the picture?” I demand, and in my mind snapping his neck in two.

He shrugs, which takes my anger to hatred. “That could be anybody; plus with all of those fancy computer programs…”

“Fuck you! You know that’s my mom! You bastard!” Tears sting my eyes as my vision goes red. Suddenly, the room is too small and the air too thick. I fly out of Sebastian’s grip and run out of the room, out of the lobby, and out of the station.

I start running, no destination in mind. I just let my feet take me where they want to go. With every slap of foot against gravel comes an anger driven thought.

Hate. Him.

Go. To. Hell. Reynolds.

Why. Is. This. So. Hard?

Why. Me?

Fuck. Life.

Fuck. Me.

Fuck. The. Damn. World.

I end up at my house, but I don’t want to go in. I turn and dive into the woods, weaving through the trees and hopping over fallen branches, flashing back to last Monday, back to Dick--I mean, Joseph. Oh fuck it, he’s Dick and that’s final.

I stop in what I think is the center of the woods and sit down on a log, staring blankly at nothing. My head hurts and my eyes sting. I want to scream, so I do. It ripples through the forest, starting a flurry of scurries and upsets. I kick a pile of orange and red leaves. Throw a few rocks. Scream some more. Cry.

I never wanted to say this, Hayley Williams sings from my pocket, you never wanted to stay. I put my faith in you, so much faith and then you, just threw it away…

“What?” My voice is raw when I answer my phone, and I clear it. “What do you want?”

“Veronica?” Sebastian sounds worried. “Where are you?”

“Somewhere,” I say vaguely, mainly because I don’t have a fucking idea. He stays silent, but it’s the kind of silence that speaks. Please, it begs, I want to help you. But I need you to cooperate. I sigh. “In the woods by my house. I don’t know where exactly.”

Since it’s so quiet, I can still hear the road. So I know when a car stops about half a mile down the road from me. And I can tell its Sebastian.

Brrrrreeeeeeuuuuuup! “What the hell? Are you insane you fucking redcoat?”

Brrrrreeeeeeuuuuuup! “Get to the car, you nutty Yank. Before I scare out the forest.”

Sometimes it’s the little things that make you feel better. For example, his persistence makes me laugh. I hang up and jog in the direction of his horn, which he’s deliberately holding down. Because this road is so desolate, he can park in the lane and not have to worry. The horn doesn’t stop until I’ve closed the door behind me and am buckled. My feet do up on the dashboard reflexively.

Sebastian stares at my feet, silently debating. He looks horror-struck and defeated at once. “You can’t--bloody Yank--I guess you could--but my car--” Slumping, he mutters something like “I’m sorry Rodney,” but I must have heard wrong. Either way, I start cracking up. He shoots me a glare and I laugh harder.

“You--named--your car--Rodney?” I gasp the question out between laughs, my eyes tearing up. “Oh--my--God!”

Suddenly, his angry face goes away and a self-satisfied smirk crawls onto his face. “No--my car is better than that. Her name won’t be revealed any time soon. I just thought it might cheer you up.”

A small smile plays at my lips. I can’t help it. It did make me feel happier.

“Don’t worry, Veronica,” he says, making a U-turn into the next lane over. “We’ll work it all out. I won’t rest until it is.”