I wanted to punch a wall.
I eased the car
gently into the school parking lot, letting a consistent string of
aggravated “Shit, shit, shit”s stream from under my breath. Oh,
Alexis, can you pick up Molly from school? she said. I know
you’re not busy or anything, she said. Oh, you wanted to
drive out to the city with your friends and party? she said.
That’s why you’re a deadbeat daughter two years out of college
who doesn’t even have a job! she said! And several
expletive-filled exchanges later, the little fucker wasn’t even
outside.
Okay… okay…
I took a few deep
breaths.
I may not be the
ideal image of the eldest daughter, but that was no reason to take my
frustration about it out on Molly, even in the sanctity of my mind.
As much as it pained me to admit it, she was the perfect
daughter, the perfect sister, even the perfect student if her
teachers were to be believed. Her friends’ parents would always
gush about her in the post-sleepover debriefs with nothing but
smiles. And how could they not? Polite, funny, well-mannered, and the
cutest little girl on this side of the county line. Not that a place
this sparse had much competition, but regardless, that almond
skin and those lovely dark-chocolate colored puff balls on the side
of her head… it was one of my few points of pride and joy to be her
primary stylist in that regard.
Molly… I’d been
an only child for a long time before Molly came into the picture. All
of a sudden, I had a sister. More than a sister, a confidant.
A partner in crime. Someone who could catch me sneaking out to buy
booze and keep her lips sealed. We may fight here and there… but I
love her. And I guess… if it’ll help her out to pick her up from
school, then I’m willing to put a raincheck on my time in the city.
But still. It would
be nice if she actually showed up on time. In fact, that was becoming
a theme, here. Between picking her up from sleepovers, from school,
from club meets… for all the big vocab words she liked to throw
around, I guess I know now why “punctual” isn’t one of them.
The parking lot was
devoid of cars, buses, people. Which makes sense, I guess. It was
pushing on five o’clock; most of the students had been picked up
some way or other. I tapped on the horn, but it only sputtered out as
a sad little whine.
“Dammit…” I
kicked the undercarriage of the car… then I pulled out my phone and
shot Molly a text.
Yo Mol-Mol. Im
outside <3
I waited.
The shadow formed by
the natural palisade of pines was lengthening. The afternoon sunlight
was beginning to dip beneath the treetops, filtering its warm orange
glow through the nettles. At the far horizon, purple was beginning to
encroach. Stars were baring it all, one by one. And she still wasn’t
here yet.
“Ugh!” I burst
out the door and slammed it shut. Even Molly’s privilege only went
so far.
The encompassing
shadow of the three-story middle school was once an intimidating
sight, but I guess the perspective of age was enough to make it seem
quaint and trivial compared to what it once was. I marched up to the
double doors and banged my knuckles on the window. “Molly!”
No response.
I peered through the
aperture into the lobby. It was only partially lit. Nobody was there,
no dejected sixth graders awaiting their late rides home, no jaded
delinquents dismissed from detention. Everyone was gone.
“Shit…”
I mouthed. I checked my phone again. No response. Where the hell was
she?
I was just about to
trod back to the car when from the corner of my eye, a figure
appeared through the window. Coming in from the side, my savior,
a janitor was wiping the fuzzy wide broom across the linoleum floors
with headphones on.
I magnetized back to
the window and tapped my palm on it, giving a few yelps of “Hey,
hey!” for good measure. Something must’ve gotten through
to him, because he noticed me, wide-eyed, and trotted over to open
the door.
I tried to dart
through him, but his wide girth disincentivized me from making the
attempt. “La escuela está cerrada,” he said in a language
I did not understand at all.
“Uhhhhhh…”
“Cuál
es tu problema? Ahora, señora.”
I was almost taken
aback by the sudden language switch, but I gulped. This was a
mission. I couldn’t back down. “I’m looking for my sister? She
goes to this school… Por… favor?”
The janitor looked
like he was trying very hard to put words together. “Necesitas…
tu hermana?”
In an act of
desperation, I took out my phone and pulled up a picture of me and
Molly together, and I brandished it.
Suddenly, it
clicked. The man broke into a huge smile.
“Ahhhhhhhh,
Molly! Una chica muy amable. ¿La estás buscando?”
I
nodded. “Yeah, I think. Do you know if she’s… aquí?”
The janitor’s
smile turned into a twisted expression. “No sé…” Then
he stepped aside. I was in. “Rapida, senorita!”
“Thanks!” I
dashed through, skidding slightly on the newly waxed floor.
My old stomping
ground. I knew it well. It felt like a lifetime ago. I racewalked
through the halls, noting teacher names old and new. Ms. Hemmingway
must’ve retired. Good for her. The café vending machine was still
busted, which figures. The bulletin boards outside the classrooms had
an everchanging stream of new assignments, art pieces, murals. But no
sign of Molly. I bounded up to the second floor – it was for
seventh graders, but maybe she was hanging out in a club or
something. I poked my head in the open doors, and I glanced through
the windows of the closed doors. But no cigar.
This was beginning
to go from frustrating to worrying. It was one thing for Molly to be
a little late, but she was nowhere to be found.
As I trotted up to
floor three, I stopped in the middle of the steps. I had to think. I
could light one up right now… I had some papers in my
pocket. But not here. Not in a school.
I ran through the
options.
Option 1: she had
gone to stay with a friend without telling anybody. Not possible. She
was the ur Goodie-Two-Shoes. The Alpha and the Omega of
Obedience. She would’ve called all of us twice for redundancy to
make sure we knew where she was.
Option 2: she walked
home. Technically possible… the house is only two miles from
the school. But not probable. Besides, I would’ve seen her on the
way.
Option 3: she was
somewhere in the school. This option’s likelihood seemed to dwindle
with each passing moment. I was looking up at the double doors that
led to floor three with dread at what I wouldn’t find. The
smallest and least populous level, housing only a rinky dink library
and two paltry classrooms.
Those were the only
options available to her. Realistically, at least.
Well…
There was a
fourth option…
The moment I came to
the realization – nope. Not thinking about it. That was too awful
an idea to even entertain, even as a last resort.
And yet, it
continued to gnaw at me, and before I knew it, I began to shiver. And
shake.
I gulped. Molly just
isn’t the type to get kidnapped. She’s smart enough to build
rockets; she can tell when to say no to Free Candy.
But… she is small.
And… it… wouldn’t be hard for… an older man to take her.
And she does fit
the recent victims’ profi–
Nope! Nope,
nope, nope!
Option 3. Right now,
it was still the most likely one.
Jesus fuck…
I needed a hit.
***
Molly hopped up,
propping her arms on the parapet as she looked at the far horizon.
She wasn’t tall enough to glance down to the parking lot, but she
could at least tell that the Twilit Hour was well on its way. They
would be starting soon.
Molly fell back down
just as a strong wind arrived, sending her into a chill. She
chattered her teeth, and she pulled her cardigan over her shoulders.
She turned and called out. “Are you finished?”
“MMMHHH-MMMMMHHHHNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!”
Garnet looked up
from her work. Her hands were pressed down on its mouth. “Almost…
I could use a gag.”
Molly looked down.
She didn’t have a gag…
She suddenly reached
down and unbuckled the clasp of her Mary Jane shoe, removing it. She
rolled her pure white sock down her ankle and removed it. It still
smelled rather fresh.
She put her shoe
back on and walked briskly toward Garnet, handing it to her. Garnet’s
eyes glowed, and she took it before looking down in Vivian’s eyes,
wild, desperate. “Time to shut you up…”
Her muffled screams
were expertly navigated through as Garnet grabbed the duct tape,
tying it in a bind around her head and neck, carefully nestling the
sock in place. Now all she could do was send out desolate cries for
help that couldn’t even pierce the wind.
Molly looked down at
Vivian. Wrists tied, ankles bound together, face gagged and cushioned
against the concrete in a pillow of dirty blonde locks. The fight had
been drained from her, and the tears were her next best bet. She
pleaded upward at Molly, shaking her head, No… no…
“This is some good
work!” Molly said. Garnet beamed.
Molly then gazed to
the other corner of the rooftop. Sofia was leaning against the
parapet. In the dim light, her eyes caught Molly’s. Sofia smiled.
Her fair skin made her seem like a ghost in the low lighting.
Molly walked over to
her. “How are you feeling?”
Sofia looked to
Molly’s skirted hip. There was a water bottle tucked into the
pocket of her cardigan. “Good… Could be better…”
Molly saw this, and
she gave a pleasant, understanding grin. “Be patient.”
“Just a sip?”
Sofia reached out for the bottle. “Please, I won’t –”
SMACK!
Molly’s smile
disappeared. She looked at Sofia’s wrist, suspended in place out of
shock, now red. She looked up at Sofia, shocked, ashamed. “Wait.
Your. Turn.”
Sofia nodded.
Molly walked away to
an empty corner of the roof. She pulled the bottle out of her pocket.
She swirled the clear liquid around in the container. She held it up
to her ear. She whispered to it. It whispered back.
“Everyone!”
Molly yelled.
Garnet looked up.
Sofia turned to her, still stung from the light smack. Even Vivian,
supine on the ground, tried to wriggle to see what was happening.
“It’s time.”
Sofia stuck her
hands in her pockets as she approached the center of the rooftop,
congregating with Garnet. Garnet was manic, wide-eyed, excited. She
was jittering, and she didn’t know if it was from the chill or the
anticipation.
Molly was last. She
approached slowly, measuredly, taking great care not to go too fast
or too slow. She held the bottle in front of her with great care, as
though it were a chalice.
She reached Vivian.
Her tied ankles were at Molly’s feet. Molly looked down. Vivian
squirmed in a semi-roll and looked up at Molly. Her eyes were
waggling from side to side, still dripping down tears.
Molly said nothing.
She turned to
Garnet. “You’re our newest member. You’re allowed to drink
first.”
“Ooooh!” Garnet
chirped, taking the bottle. “Thanks, Molly!”
She unscrewed the
cap and sniffed it. It seemed… normal. Smelled normal, at least.
The label said Aquafina. She dipped a pinky finger carefully
inside and then stuck it in her mouth.
Garnet’s eyes
squinted. Her mouth puckered. Her grip on the bottle wavered – for
a moment it seemed like it might fall. Molly was prepared to step in,
but Garnet soon got ahold of herself. “Oh, oh man!” she
swooned. And she began to chug.
Molly sighed as
Garnet drank, expression only hardening again once Garnet passed the
1/3rd mark. “Alright, Garnet. That’s enough.”
Garnet did not
listen.
“Garnet!”
Molly lunged for the bottle, pulling it from Garnet’s grip in the
middle of another big gulp.
“N-no! Please!”
Garnet said, preparing to reach for it back, but Molly geared to
chuck it over the parapet.
“Patience. Don’t
make me regret letting you into our club.”
Garnet’s eyes
watered, and she nodded.
Molly softened. She
looked back at the bottle. There was a little more than half left.
She grunted, then turned to Sofia. “I’m… I’m sorry. I hope
this is okay.”
Sofia didn’t
respond… she was too busy focusing on the bottle itself as she took
it into her hands. She couldn’t care less about the fact that there
was less to go around, she just needed more of it. She lifted
the rim to her lips and gave it a few sips. Her empty hand twitched,
clenching and unclenching.
Molly watched with
satisfaction as Sofia’s stream lessened once there was about one
fourth of the bottle left. Soon, Sofia stopped of her own accord.
“Ahhh…” she said, and she handed the bottle to Molly,
who took it.
Vivian on the ground
had gone from abject fear… to utter confusion. She looked up at the
three underclassmen. Was this some sort of weird… hazing ritual?
Molly clutched the
bottle next. The plastic crinkled in her small fingers. There were
only a few gulps left, but for Molly, it was enough. She placed it
against her lips, and she drank.
Suddenly, she heard
it. The voice. The whisper. It caressed her, nurtured her, gave her
spirit, showed her everything. The world. Life. Death. The sun. The
stars. As the water fell down her gullet, she realized the truth.
And then Molly
stopped herself.
She pulled the
bottle away and panted. Only a few droplets still rolled around at
the bottom of the bottle. She wheezed. Sofia leapt to her side and
stabilized her, and Molly managed to come to.
She offered brief
thanks to Sofia before she turned to the bottle and thanked it.
The water. The whispering. But she knew that thanks would not be
enough.
She looked down at
Vivian and smiled sweetly.
Now, it
needed a sacrifice.
***
I – foolishly,
might I add – already lit up before getting the idea of going to
the school rooftop. The stairwell was private enough, but the smell
would’ve been a dead giveaway, and since Molly was more likely than
not the only student who would recognize the scent, I definitely
didn’t want any of this coming back on her… or me.
I reached the third
floor doorway, and I ignored it, turning straight into another
doorway that led into a far more cramped stairwell. Only the faintest
signs of lavender twilight streamed through the door’s window up
above. I was already feeling more relaxed, but once I got to the
rooftop I would really be able to unwind. Then… I would call
Mom. The thought of being sober while telling her Molly was
missing was almost enough to make me throw up on its own.
I was three steps
from the top when I tripped, fell, and banged my head against the
door.
“OUCH!”
Two sharp stair corners jutted into my thigh and my stomach
respectively. “Gch…!” I put a hand on my knee, muttering
more and more swears as I gave thanks to how wonderful today had been
going, especially since my joint had flown from my fingers to the
floor below, a smoldering red candle in the otherwise inky blackness.
“What the hell…?”
I’d tripped on
something. Something small. It was jammed up against my jean-clad
butt. Once I caught my breath, I plunged my hand beneath me and
scrounged around until my fingers clutched something cold and hard. I
grunted and pulled it out. I couldn’t exactly see it, but I knew
exactly what it was. A combination padlock. I’d opened it numerous
times when I was still a student here to access the roof – first to
hide when cutting class, and later so I could smoke uninhibited. And
yes, sure, that was breaking the rules, I’m a filthy truant. You’ve
got me. But, I mean, come on. The numerical key was 4-4-4-4. That’s
just poor security on the face of it.
Luckily my secret
was never found out. As far as I could tell, no other curious pupil
was experimental or creative enough to try, either, so it was my
little secret. Well, mine and Molly’s, though she’s way too much
of a goody-two-shoes to sneak up there, even though I told her the
combination.
I squinted at the
lock as my eyes gradually traced out the silhouette in the darkness.
If nothing else, it was the exact same make and model, and probably
the exact same lock if I had to guess. It was mostly curiosity that
led me to want to try the rooftop again. After all, if they can’t
be arsed to fix a vending machine, why the hell would they care
enough to keep students from sneaking onto a rooftop filled with
nothing but twigs, Home Depot buckets, and old pieces of plywood?
I ached up to full
height, wincing with pain. Maybe this was a sign from the universe
that I should just give up the ghost and call Mom already.
Ughhhhh… the
needles of shame were already piercing my brain, stomach, limbs…
I whipped out my
phone and dialed her number, but I was met immediately with the tone
for no service.
“Shit.”
Looks like the
rooftop was the play after all.
I trotted up the
final steps, holding the padlock, when I realized something.
If the padlock was
on the floor… that meant somebody else was on the rooftop
right now.
I crouched slightly,
and I shoved my face up against the tiny little square window. It
hurt like a bitch. Fall around here has the tendency to turn touching
any outdoor-exposed glass or metal into a feat of tremendous
strength, and this door was made of both. But I stomached it. I
didn’t want to pop in on some construction worker, or even a fellow
delinquent like myself. I know better than anyone delinquents value
their privacy.
My eyes were already
adjusted well enough to see out in the darkness. The sky was that
inky purple hue it tends to be just before the stars come out. I
squinted, and I locked my eyes on not one… not two… three
people out on the rooftop, maybe a bit more than five yards out.
They were in a circle… or, well, a triangle I guess, around a weird
sack on the ground. Everything was so muddled in the darkness, and my
breath on the glass only made it even more difficult.
But I wiped my
sleeve on the window and looked through again. I still couldn’t
make out any of their faces… but that sack on the ground was…
moving?
It… it wasn’t a
sack.
I ripped my face
from the window. I took a step back, but forgot I was on a stairwell.
I stumbled and reached desperately for the doorhandle, jangling the
mechanism briefly.
I wobbled for a
moment, but I didn’t fall. I peered through the window again. One
of them was glancing in my direction, but she – for now I was quite
certain it was a she – turned back quickly enough. I was in the
clear, for the moment anyway. Another girl – they were all girls, I
think – crouched, holding a bottle. She overturned it above the
squirming girl on the ground. I felt something powerful clutch my
heart seeing her writhe. I couldn’t see her face. I knew she looked
terrified.
Should I do
something? Probably. Was this a weed-induced hallucination? Yeah,
let’s go with that. Even if it wasn’t, even if I wasn’t
dreaming – especially if I wasn’t dreaming – there was
no fucking way I was going out there. I’m no hero. But I am the
type of bystander to shamelessly watch on and see the end of this
story.
I couldn’t make
out any liquid in the bottle; if anything spilled out, then it
must’ve been only a few drops strewn haphazardly over their
captive.
The girl on the
ground spasmed. A lump was forming in my throat. I tugged at my
jacket sleeves, and I pressed my eyeballs against the glass.
The girl – the
hostage – her spasms increased. It looked like she was having a
seizure. One of the others took a furtive step back, but other than
that, there was no reaction from any of them. I couldn’t stand to
look at it, this torture. I turned away. But my morbid fascination
got the better of me. I turned back.
The girl on the
floor was gone.
She’d disappeared.
One of the girls
crouched on the ground again and scrounged around for something in
the dust, until she stood up, holding something out between her thumb
and forefingers. The other two leaned in to look at it. I couldn’t
quite tell what was going on what with their heads all in the way.
Eventually, they backed up, and I could just barely focus on the
dangling thing in her fingers.
The stars were
coming out. A stray cloud crossed out from atop the moon. The yellow
streetlights activated, and the ambient glow increased, if only
slightly. It was still hard, but I could finally start making out
some details. A uniform button-up shirt here, a skirt there, one of
the girls was of a fair complexion. I squinted. I felt dirty for
taking such fascination in this, but if I went back to the car
without doing everything I could to figure out what this was, I would
never be able to live with myself.
I continued to
observe. I was laser-focused on the object of their fascination. It
was a tiny little thing, so small from this distance, I couldn’t
quite tell. Or, well, I could make a guess, but the only
hypotheses I had were beyond belief. But, considering the frankly
inconceivable… disappearance… of the hostage… the little
thing’s spindly form…
Even from here, I
could just about make out the shape to be a teeny, tiny little human…
But… no. That
couldn’t be. That was just crazy. It had to have been the weed.
I’d made out the
faces of the two observers, but the one who held her seemed dead set
on turning away from me. It was frustrating, and this was only
exacerbated by the fact that from this angle, her hair looked just
like Molly’s. It was uncanny. It was…
She opened her
mouth. And she dropped the little thing – the little person –
whatever it was… she dropped it inside.
She swallowed.
I couldn’t help
myself. I let out a choked gasp. I threatened to stumble backward
again, but my grip was ironclad on the door handle. My knees
threatened to give out. What the hell was I watching?
But when, finally, I
took one last look at the scene… I wished I hadn’t.
I let go of the door
handle. I was clutching it so hard, it snapped back with
enough tension for the metallics to echo and reverberate a few
moments longer. And I ran. I ran down the stairs, back through the
stairwell, down the hall, back down the other stairwell, and then
through the lobby. I ignored the janitor yelling after me in Spanish.
I burst out the double doors and trudged drunkenly to my car. I got
in and sat there for a few moments before I let out the scream.
There was no way.
There was no fucking
way.
But that girl…
was Molly.