Author: J. Abigail PM
It started out as a simple car accident but escalated into an obsession.Rated: Fiction T - English - Mystery/Suspense - Words: 2,237 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 2 - Published: 02-08-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2473209
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
What happened? What really happened? No one knew. Does anyone ever know? How does someone die—in the blink of an eye? One moment they're in the car, the next all that remains is ashes. If he had known, would things be different?
So what happened?
One cold November afternoon, Victor got into a car. It was the new dark blue Lexus his mom had given him for his birthday. It was supposed to be a ride to the bank—that was it. A simple car ride to take out some money. But it turned out to be so much more.
Victor's car collided with another car. They said it was an accident—a costly one. There had been witnesses. But they were unsure. They said Victor had been driving when the black car had swerved into his lane. They said it was two seconds before the crash. Odd. That didn't sound like an accident.
It wasn't an accident.
The cars had collided with so much force that the fuel from the gas tanks had combusted, caught fire and exploded. Nothing was left but a wheel and some ashes. There was no evidence of the bodies—no DNA—and no cameras had caught the license plate of the other car.
Police authorities had checked into the situation. It was an accident—a very unfortunate one—and they were lucky no one else was hurt.
It was an accident. A handsome, eighteen year-old jock, thick brown hair, blue eyes and a whole future ahead of him had died in an accident.
It wasn't an accident.
It was a set-up
The funeral was on Tuesday. I couldn't go, wouldn't go, and didn't go.
"Why not Kate?" my parents demanded.
"Why not?" my best friend, Leah, asked in surprise.
"Because he's not dead," I insisted. My parents patted my head and Leah nodded sympathetically.
"You don't understand!" I tried to clarify, "Victor isn't dead. He didn't die in that accident because it wasn't an accident."
"Oh honey, sometimes things like this happen," my mom said, trying to comfort me.
"Yeah," Leah said nodding, "life sometimes brings obstacles that you have to try to overcome."
Don't listen to them, Kate, Victor told me.
"IT WASN'T AN ACCIDENT!" I yelled. I ran to my room, tears spilling out from my eyes. I heard him: I'm here Kate. I'm here. I felt him.
When I heard my parents leave with Leah—all thinking some alone time would help me—I put a coat over my black dress, tried my brown hair back, and set out to Tasan Street. It was a cloudy, windy day, the sky the colour of an angry sea. Some trees still carried brown and yellow leaves but they were falling off.
It was time to investigate—my way. The place of the crash was in a residential area that backed up onto a forest. The police had had enough intelligence to block the road off with lights and caution signs. A large red "Do not enter" sign stood in front, I went around. The ground was still dirty and wet with debris and rain. Other than that, no one would believe a car explosion had just happened a day before.
I frowned, looking along the pavement. There was nothing but ashes of my Victor. My eyes blurred slightly.
Don't cry my Kate. He wasn't dead, I reminded myself.
Suddenly my eye caught sight of something red, barely visibly under the grey dirt. I bent down and brushed the dirt away. It was a thick red line of paint that looked like the white driving lines along roads. I saw that it was longer so I frantically brushed all of the dirt away. I didn't look at it until I was finished.
I stood up. It was a large red X that ran from one side of the road to the other. There was a bump in the center of the red X of something hard. I had to pull it off the pavement because it was covered in a red sticky liquid. It was Victor's necklace—the one he always wore around his neck, even when he was exercising. It had our pictures in it and it was supposed to represent our bond. I opened the locket.
I screamed. Victor's picture was gone. Mine was still there.
I looked at the X again. It wasn't paint. It was blood.
"Victor, tell me what to do!" I cried out.
The Bank, my Kitten, the bank.
Kitten…my childhood nickname. Victor was alive!
"Thank-you," I whispered under my breath, knowing that Victor's voice could hear me. I took the bus over to the bank I knew Victor was heading for on the day of his accident. It was a rich people's bank, one I'd never been in. I knew Victor was going there to withdraw some money.
The bank was a marble building with cherry wood desks and gold pens. I had no idea where to go when I entered the building and I already knew the security guard was giving me suspicious looks.
"What do I do now?" I asked Victor.
The second desk. Ask for my account. The number is 110607. Ask for the brown package called 'Kitten'.
I did as Victor's voice told me. Outside of the bank I hurriedly opened the package.
That's right, open it Kate.
It was a diamond locket.
For you, my sweet.
"Does it open?" I whispered.
Yes. But don't open it yet.
I went to bed that night, wearing the pendant around my neck. My parents were surprised to see me so content and Leah got frustrated after my constant, "I'm fine" responses on the phone.
"Kate! Victor just died yesterday. You cannot be fine."
I smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "That's where you're wrong Leah. He's not dead. I went to investigate today. I found his necklace with our pictures. I hear his voice Leah—he tells me things."
There was a pause. "Kate…look, the last time I checked, it's not a good thing to be hearing voices in your head."
"You don't get it," I said coldly. "They aren't just 'voice in my head'. It's actually real. Victor is trying to contact me. He wants me to save him. So I'm going to do everything I can to find out where he is."
"Kate I'm not sure that that's a good idea," Leah said uneasily. "You shouldn't mess with things you don't know about—especially the dead."
"You don't get it." I hung up the phone angrily.
That night I went to bed dreaming sweet dreams about Victor with his pendant lying safely across my chest.
But at breakfast something was very different. I had a little sister and no dad. I found this out the hard way.
"Who the hell is that and where's dad?" We always had breakfast as a family.
My mother looked at me oddly. "Is this a joke Kate? You know very well that your father left us for his secretary."
"Yes," the little girl said in a smooth, emotionless voice. "Don't you know that I'm your sister, Nadia?"
I stared at them in shock. "Is this some kind of joke?" I demanded. "I don't have a little sister. And where the hell is dad?"
Nadia stared at me, her eyes watery. "You do have a little sister!"
My mother rubbed her back. "There, there, Kate's just joking."
"No I'm not!" I ran from the table back to my room, rubbing my head. I called Leah.
"Do I have a little sister?" I demanded.
"Of course! Nadia. How is she by the way?"
This had to be a joke—or maybe I was dreaming. It would all go away—maybe when I went to bed that night.
But it didn't. The next morning when I woke up, I had both parents but I had an older brother and a disabled sister—who'd apparently died recently, because when I put on a pretty blue blouse that I found in what I thought was the guest room, my mom burst into tears and Adam, my "older brother" threw an orange at me.
The next day I only had a dad and the day after that I had six brothers.
"Is this ever going to end?!" I cried out the day after when I was an orphan living at the Genevieve School for Orphaned Girls.
Yes my Kitten. When you open the pendant.
"Well why didn't you say so," I mumbled, fumbling for the diamond necklace.
Open it and tomorrow everything will be where it's supposed to be.
I opened the necklace and was temporarily blinded by whatever was inside. It was a picture of myself—the same one that was in Victor's necklace. I smiled sweetly. "Oh Victor!"
"Talkin' to yurself?" Mertice, my "best friend" asked laughing.
"Uh, yeah," I agreed to get her to leave me alone.
That night I had pleasant dreams, where Victor was showing me where they were keeping him hostage.
The next morning I was afraid to open my eyes in case I was back in the filthy orphanage, or sharing a room with a boy, or perhaps even lying on the street. I saw that I wasn't when I peeked out into the sunlight. I was back in my room, the way it had always been since the start of my high school life.
I jumped up—excited, happy, and grateful I was back when I belonged. I put on my bed green shirt and new corduroy pants, knowing that I would have both of my parents and no pesky sisters and brothers.
I was still wearing the diamond pendant with my picture in it, reminding me of my Victor. I tried to search for his voice in my head but I frowned when he didn't answer. But I knew he would—he had to.
I walked down the stairs, slowly, taking in the beautiful normal décor of my house. There were only pictures of me on the walls; the house was neat. I entered the kitchen and saw not only my parents at the breakfast table, but Leah as well.
They all looked a little depressed—like on the day when we'd all found out about Victor's death.
"Hey guys!" I said in the brightest voice I could muster. It was an attempt to cheer them up. But they didn't even move, let alone acknowledge my presence. I guess they were still mad at me for insisting that Victor wasn't dead.
"Look," I sighed. "I'm sorry that I kept insisting that Victor was alive. But you have to believe me. He is! Look I can even prove it to you. I have his pendant." I took it out of my shirt to show them.
Still they didn't move or look at me. Finally Leah sniffled out, "I can't believe she's dead."
What? What did she just say? "What?" I demanded out loud. "Who's dead?" Again I was ignored.
My mom patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't cry Leah. We all miss Kate."
What the—"I'm not dead guys!" I yelled. I jumped around frantically, waving at them, touching them. "I'm right here! I'm alive! Don't you see me?!" I slumped down on the ground.
"Of course I do."
I froze. It was Victor's voice. I scrambled around to see him standing there, right at the kitchen door. He was just as handsome as ever, in the same clothes he'd worn that day he'd died. His dark hair, stopping above his eyes, his muscular built, his red eyes, staring lovingly at me. Wait. Red eyes…
"Hey baby Kitten. Welcome home."
A/N: Hope you got creeped out :)