typing; the tears had started to stream down her face to such an extent that
seeing her computer screen was no longer possible. She would not wipe them away. To her they
were a testimony of her pain, and of her unyielding regret. They were her
silent pleas for the forgiveness no one know she needed. She thought of what
she had just typed.
There’s a verse in the bible that talks
about not looking as if you are fasting.
I wonder if that applies to me.
It warns the reader not to be ostentatious about their pain, as if to
get the attention of others. Maybe I should follow suit. I’m not catholic but I
gave up TV, and SCIP, and Facebook, and Twitter, and driving. [d1] Since it happened I haven’t really done
much of anything; the guilt is so heavy I can barely raise my head in the mornings[d2] and when I try to sleep it’s like a bolder
crushing down on my chest until I can’t breathe and I lose consciousness. Maybe
I should confess to my sister, maybe if show her my bloody filthy hands she
would forgive, and I could have peace.
But I don’t deserve her forgiveness; I don’t deserve peace[d3] .
She closed her
eyes tightly to stop the flow of tears. She stood up, stopping only to save the entry
on her live journal, then she proceeding to the bathroom.
Eyes puffy, hair
disarrayed, mouth a vodka infested plaque-parade. Crap looked 7 ½ times better
than what she saw in her reflection. She opened her medicine cabinet, as she
scanned over the sleeping pills she played with the idea of finding peace; she
shook the thought away. She grabbed the Sober-Up to deal witht the left over
drunk-ness from behind it and the Pepto-Bismol,
to deal with left-over drunkness and the nauseous
feeling she felt every minute the drunk-ness was gone.
When she was done, she looked a few pegs up from “crap”. She was clean, her
hair in a neat low ponytail, her breathe smelled like tooth paste and
chalky-cherries, but her eye where still puffy. Dark ring still enclosed them
and they were still blood shot red. She’d ware put on some sun shades. She
grabbed her purse and a stack of fliers; she read one for the millionth time.
16 YR/O GIRL
Catherine Jessica Mathews
5’3; 139 lbs.; dark brown hair; hazel eyes
At the bottom of
the page was a picture of Jessica’s niece. The tears started again; this time
she wiped them away. She grabbed the mug off of her desk and kept on out the
door, and on to the bus stop; she would meet with the police today.
She had put off
this meeting too long. Yesterday the detective asked everyone there to meet
with him as soon as possible.
“If any of you
have any information, or pictures, or gut feelings, or anything that could help
us bring this young lady home… ”he said. ..[d4]
If any of you have any
information….she thought on that. It replayed over and over in her
head. If ANY of you have ANY information. She wanted more than anything
to say she didn’t, to say and know that her
actions had nothing to do with her niece’s abduction. She had been over it in
her head a million times. When the clock read 10 pm and Catherine still wasn’t
home from school, she thought about it. Each time she called her niece’s phone
and it went to voicemail she thought about.
8’oclock the next morning when Jessica went with her sister to file out
the missing person’s report, she thought about. And when that police officer
asking for any information, yet again
her mind drifted back to the events of a few nights ago.[d5]
it my iPod is about to die,” Catherine mumble to herself. Her ipod was the only
sorce of joy for her during the long summer school days.
say damn,” Jessica said jokingly. She held the fake scold on her face until
they both broke out in laughter. “Whatcha
you listening to music for any way when you could be listening to this.”
Jessica took a deep breath and starting howling the lyrics to “Wind Beneath My
laughed, “Oh please God, stop that. Wounded walruses sound better than that.”[d6]
joked all the way home. Jessica and Catherine did not have the typical
aunt-niece relationship, they behaved more like siblings. They were only four years apart, and had
practically been raised together. Jessica was in college now, and for the first
summer since middle school, she didn’t have to take summer classes. She did not
have a job either, so when her sister offered to pay her just for hanging out
with her niece a few evening a week she didn’t think twice about it. So after summer
school Catherine would hang out at Jessica’s apartment until her mom got off
how was school today,” Jessica asked as she scanned the pantry.
shrugged, “I don’t know, school. I wish mom would just let me stay home.” She
reclined on the sofa and stared at the ceiling.
so you can have another crazy party while your mom’s at work.”
people,” Catherine growled exasperatedly! “Ten people and your sister acted
like I was having a crazy…orgy…sex party.
It was ten friends and we were just chillin’, listening to music,
dancing: your sister just has problems.
friends really,” a devious smile creep it way across Jessica’s face. “Did those
ten friends,” she hesitated then continued, “How many of those friends lack
ovaries.” Jessica saw that Catherine wasn’t following. “How many of your
friends pee standing up.
mumbled and looked off into the opposite direction.
“don’t say huh, how many dudes were there?”
looking away Catherine responded, “just two or three… less than half of the
people that were there,” she whined as she searched her aunt’s face for some
sign of understanding.
as long as the males make up less than half of the group it’s ok; That doesn’t
seem right to me.” Jessica looked up at Catherine thoughtfully.
sound like your sister,” Catherine pouted and sunk in to her sofa. “What do you
need a boyfriend for; stop trying to grow up so fast; I’m not raising no one’s
baby,” she mimicked the ever repeating lecture her mom gave her. “Bet grandma wasn’t like that huh? No boys
wanted to laugh. Truth was, her mom had
told her no boy, she wasn’t allowed to go out with friends, or to the movies,
and every summer had been shipped off to a bible camp. She knew her niece’s plight. She also knew what
happened when you put people in cages; they break free. Jessica could remember “breaking
free” many-a bible camp night. The
preacher’s voice barely audible over the heavy breathing, flesh-slapping
“good-time” she was having on the empty altar in the next room.
understood her niece but she also understood her sister.
mom just doesn’t want you to get taken advantage of or get hurt. You can’t
blame her for that.” She sai remembering that she only recently stop resenting
her own mother.
“Look” Jessica walked over to
Catherine, “I can’t have you going postal, and I don’t want to look at you
pouting every day, so what if we go do stuff sometimes; double dates to the
movies or the mall, Ok?”
Catherine jumped up pure child-like glee seeped from her face. She attempted to
take a ‘not so little girl” persona. She removed the high pick twang from her
next words, but she couldn’t dull down her smile “Sure, yeah, that sound good.”
bus’s arrival jerked Jessica her back to the present. She settled in to the
last seat in the back of the bus. Almost compulsively she situated her things
on her lab. Lap, fliers, mug then stared out of the window willing her mind to
stay blank. She checked her watch. The Detective asked everyone to meet with
him today before the press release at 4 today. Her sister said she would be
She sat on the bus
starring at the mug; INSERT
MUG SCENE FROM PAPER AT HOME. [d7]
Add part about why she was heading
to police station add flashback about when they found out she was abducted. (
time note: with in a week)
Worlds best aunt written across the
top. Each time she saw her face a felling
similar to having your heart grabbed and squeezed mid beat. She signed and
search for the composer that could not be found. So she hung her head and let
the tears fall silently on to her lap the fliers and the mug.
MUG SCENE HERE.
When they finally subsided she
continued to look out the window until she reached the bus stop.
She got off the bus in front of the police
part isn’t as relavent anymore..might remove
mornig maybe it next day….doy 1 doesn’t show up, day to go to police and this
is day 3
a world somewhere between self-pity and self loathe wiping your tears away was
like wiping your hands of responsiblity
the story need time markers?
have the niece 16 and her aunt let her go on a date with this guy