Rachel woke up and licked her lips. She needed a glass of water. She slowly climbed out of bed and headed quietly down the hallway, heading to the stairs to get downstairs to get a drink. She walked quietly so as not to wake her parents. Rachel put her hand on the stairway bannister and gripped firmly, walking softly down the stairs. With her free hand, she reached up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly, through the blurriness of her sight, she saw it at the bottom of the stairs. It was standing there, its skin clear, translucent, its organs visible. Rachel screamed and stumbled, falling down the remainder of the stairs.
Soon Rachels parents arrived to help her up, and make sure she was okay. Her mother escorted her back to her bedroom, while her father went and got her a glass of water. Once Rachel had finished drinking it, she apologized to them both for waking them up, and they continued to reassure her that it was okay, and they were just happy she was okay. Rachel said goodnight to her parents, and laid back down to sleep as her parents left her bedroom. Lying in the dark, terrified she'd see it again, Rachel instead tried to think about something - anything - else. After a while, her mind settled on a girl she'd met at art camp that summer. She shut her eyes and imagined talking to her, trying to ease herself back into a restful sleep by daydreaming about her. It seemed to work, because in about fifteen minutes, Rachel was asleep again. Now, as an adult, Rachel awoke and rolled over in bed, seeing Sun Rai asleep beside her. Rachel smiled and nuzzled up to her, pushing her face against Sun's neck. Sun smiled and ran her hand up into Rachel's hair, stroking it gently. At least now, even if she was seeing the horse again, Rachel had someone who could truly help her, and that made her feel much safer. She couldn't imagine being without her now, she'd become such a source of comfort. Rachel opened her eyes and spied the horse, standing behind Sun Rai, and quickly shut her eyes again. She'd do what she'd been taught. Ignore it. But it was hard to ignore things that refused to be ignored. Rachel conceded that she finally needed help. *** "Alright," Wyatt said, squirting mustard onto his burger, "here's how this is gonna go. I'm not someone to worship." Wyatt had invited Angie to lunch, to try and dissuade her from following him. He'd even offered to buy her lunch. "I'm just a dude, alright, I'm not...I'm not some kind of seer or all seeing knowledgable diety, I'm just some guy who happened to, coincidentally, give you some good advice that then happened to, coincidentally, save your life. And while I understand you're grateful for that, it doesn't warrant worshipping me," Wyatt said, taking a bite of his burger, speaking while chewing, "because quite frankly, and you can even confirm this with my wife, I'm nothing special." "I know you don't have powers," Angie said, chuckling, "I'm not crazy, Wyatt." Wyatt scoffed. That was a rich one. "But that isn't what it's about," Angie said, "you did something amazing. You pulled me out of a cult, and you kept me from dying for an unjust martyr. I have to repay you somehow." "Repay me by not stalking me, how's that sound?" Wyatt asked, and Angie laughed as she picked up her own burger and beginning to eat. How could he possibly get through to this girl that this wasn't acceptable behavior? His only real chance was going to the police about her, but, given his activities, he didn't really feel like getting involved with law enforcement. Wyatt sighed and set his burger down, scratching his forehead. He finally said, "okay, Angie, I'm going to pay you, okay? How's that sound? You want some money?" "Money?" "Yes. One thousand dollars to leave me the hell alone, how's that sound? Usually the worshipped is the one asking for money, but in this instance, I'm giving it to you, so maybe you can see how much better I am," Wyatt said, pulling out his checkbook and a pen, "so I'm going to write you this check for a thousand dollars, and you do whatever you want with it. Go to therapy, go to school, I don't care, just...stop following me and leave my family alone." "Wyatt, what kind of maniac do you take me for?" Angie asked, sounding genuinely hurt, "...I don't want to hurt you, or your family. I just want to repay the favor. Be of any kind of help that I can." Wyatt stopped writing the check and then set his pen down. He knew he couldn't actually pay Angie off without Scarlet wondering where the money had gone to. He sighed and ran one hand up through his hair, feeling backed into a corner without any options. What move could he make here, realistically? "I...I appreciate that, but I really don't need any help," Wyatt said. "If you do, you know I'll be there," Angie said. Wyatt smiled weakly. All creepiness aside, it was one of the more enjoyable lunches he'd had lately, and that surprised him most of all. *** Calvin opened the shed door, only to find Rachel standing there. "My parents told you I was out here?" he asked, stepping aside and letting her come in. "Yeah, they didn't seem all that surprised that you had a visitor," Rachel replied, stepping into the shed. She handed Calvin a bag of chips she'd brought with her, and he laughed as he took them and pulled them open. "It's not a potluck, you're not expected to bring something everytime you come over," he said, chuckling. "Felt natural," Rachel said, shrugging, leaning against his worktable and adding, "...um...I need some help. You have a sister, right? A sister with some mental health problems?" "Yeah, why?" Calvin asked, pouring the chips into a large plastic bowl and setting it on the table. "...how severe are her issues?" Rachel asked. "Depends," Calvin said, "Depends on whether or not she's taking her medication, whether or not she's in therapy, those sorts of things. Some days it seems manageable, other days it's not at all. It's really a day by day basis type situation. Why?" "I...when I was eleven," Rachel said, exhaling slowly, her hands trembling, "I was very heavily involved in horseback. Used to take lessons, used to do performances, it was such an upperclass white girl thing. It's one of the reasons Kelly and I became such good friends, was because of this shared interest. Anyway, one year, I was on this horseback trail with another girl and our instructor. Anyway, we stopped riding for a few minutes, ya know, give the horses a break and maybe have a snack, and the other girl, Amy, she went to get something from her bag and..." Calvin picked out a few chips and ate them, waiting for Rachel to continue, only to notice the tears starting to roll down her face. Rachel reached up and wiped them with her sweatshirt sleeve, exhaling, her voice shaky. "...and as she was passing back towards me to give me what I'd asked for, my horse kicked her," Rachel said, hers and Calvins eyes locking as she added, quietly, "...in the head." "Jesus." "Yeah," Rachel said, hopping up onto the worktable and crossing her legs, "yeah, it was...not good. Gruesome. We obviously had to end the ride right then and there and get her back to help, but we were so far from the ranch that it took us over an hour to get back, and by the time we did, there wasn't much they could do to salvage the situation. She incurred tremendous brain damage. She wasn't the same person anymore. She didn't even know who she was. I've always felt so responsible, and it was shortly after that that the hallucinations started." "Why is it see through?" Calvin asked, and Rachel shrugged. "Far be it from me to make sense of my mental instabilities and give you satisfying answers," she replied, "all I know is that it's started again, and I need to do something about it. I need help, Calvin. I was hoping you might be able to help me." Calvin nodded, listening. After all the wrong he had done, he figured he owed it to Rachel to try and do right instead. He didn't know how he could manage it, but he would help her get on medication. Calvin walked around the table to the front of her and hugged her. Rachel cried against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "You're alright," he said softly, "we'll figure this out." *** "You're in some deep shit," Celia said, as Wyatt paced in his office while she ate her sandwich. "Thanks, I wasn't aware of that," Wyatt said, making her laugh; he quickly added, "I...I don't know what to do, or if I even should do anything. I mean, she doesn't seem to pose an immediate threat, but at the same time, I can't have some young woman following me around begging to do things for me." "Are you sure you're a man?" Celia asked, and Wyatt smirked as he sat on his desk and lit a cigar. "Everything just keeps going from bad to worse," Wyatt said, "there's virtually no way to guarantee she won't fly off her handle and do something wild. I know she said she just wants to help me if she can, but...but what if I keep insisting I don't need her help, and then she decides to turn against me as a result?" "You're putting way too much thought into this," Celia said, setting her sandwich down and picking up her drink; after she took a long sip, she burped and said, "just face it as it is. She's some of weird devoted fangirl, she's not going to turn on you. Have her do simple errands just to keep her satisfied if you're so worried. Otherwise just ignore it." Wyatt took a long puff from his cigar and sighed. He couldn't believe this. All of this stemmed from one decision...Robert Grudin. Had he never involved himself with that, had he never involved himself with Calvin, none of this would've happened. Course, he might not know Celia and Rachel and Kelly as a result, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on those friendships, even in spite of the danger Calvin invited into his life. Wyatt took another long puff, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. "Maybe you're right," Wyatt said, "it's a good thing you're so level headed, you often keep me grounded, and I appreciate that." "Well, there's a reason I'm a lawyer," Celia said, shrugging. "Yeah, for trees," Wyatt muttered. "Hey, trees need representation," Celia said, the both of them laughing. Truth be told, Wyatt meant every word he said. Celia was the closest thing he had to a normal friend, and greatly appreciated her down to earth approach to various problems and issues. She often kept him on his feet, and that made him feel safer, even in the most dangerous situations. Wyatt really didn't know where he'd be without her input. "And if she really does wanna do things for you," Celia said, "send her my way. I'll give her some stuff to do. My garage could use some cleaning." "I'm not going to use my worshippers for slave labor," Wyatt said. "Jeez, what kind of God are you?" Celia asked, the both of them laughing. *** "Do they have you on heavy medication?" Rachel asked, sitting on Kelly's bedside, both of them looking through old National Geographic magazines. "Kinda? I have stuff I have to take for pain now and then," Kelly said, "but that's only when it gets to be too insufferable. Wish I could do that for everything else that's insufferable. Oh, some creep is hitting on me, just pop a Jerk-B-Gone and be free of that headache in an instant." Rachel laughed and nodded, agreeing. She knew coming to see Kelly would cheer her up. Her time with Calvin had been good, necessary, but being with her actual best friend was a real pick me up, emotionally. "Are you able to bathe, or do your parents have to give you sponge baths?" Rachel asked. "Okay, we're not talking about this anymore," Kelly replied, turning the page in her magazine, asking, "what possible reason could you have to even know? You plan on surviving a plane crash too?" "Not particularly, unless you recommend it," Rachel said. "Eh, it's got a kind of thrill to it," Kelly shrugged. Rachel looked up from her magazine and around the room. Truthfully, though she wouldn't tell Kelly this, she was trying to eke out any kind of information she might have in regards to the medication she had lying around, knowing full well none of it would actually do what she needed it to do, but she didn't know where else to go. Rachel sighed and went back to looking at her magazine as Kelly reached for the glass on her bedside table. "Maybe when I'm better, I'll go into the street drug trade," Kelly said, "supplement my weather girl income by selling whatever pain medication I have leftover." And that's when Rachel got the idea. *** Wyatt pulled up in his driveway and shut his car off. He reached for his briefcase on the passenger seat, gripping the handle, and opened his door, climbing out of the car. Once he was standing in the driveway, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground and glanced downwards, only to notice he'd dropped his car keys. He sighed, annoyed, before bending down to retrieve them. "We need some help," Calvin said from behind, scaring him. Wyatt, just as he'd done with Angie the night before, leapt upwards, hand to his chest. "Everyone needs to stop doing that to me!" he shouted. "Wyatt, this is serious," Calvin said. Wyatt looked past Calvin, spying Rachel in Calvin's car, and he furrowed his brow. "What's this about?" Wyatt asked. "Rachel needs help," Calvin said, "she needs serious antipsychotics. She's been having hallucinations, and I'm worried if we lose her, we'll lose ourselves. She's the glue. We need to do something to keep her stabilized. Now, I know you have health insurance, but you likely can't get something you don't need, which is why Rachel's suggested we go to the street for it. Sadly, neither of us know anyone who might know how to score street level antipsychotics." Wyatt sighed and looked at his shoes. "I do," he said quietly, surprising Calvin with this admittance, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling his cell phone out, dialing, then waiting. An answer. Wyatt grimaced and said, "Hey, Angie, it's Wyatt. I need you to do something for me."
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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