FriENDs: Chapter 5

This chapter contains paranormal and supernatural views.  Please keep in mind that these are not shared by the authors, and are merely part of the fictional portrayal of a character’s state of mind, which, in all honesty, is not the most stable thing in the first place.

I don’t stop running until I know I’m far enough. Wherever that is. I look around at my surroundings but hazy mist surrounds me on all sides. How ironic, the universe gives me fog when I’ve lost my way. The fog clears little by little and I see the coast line, shrouded in the white wisps of moisture. I keep walking, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that nags me endlessly. Why is Kiran contacting mom? Does he know about me texting him? How does he know about the MDMA?

I won’t lie. I’ve seen MDMA in the medicine cabinet. My mom told me it was an antidepressant, and she uses it because of Pa; he really hurt her when he left. But even the thought of her using it and getting high when she’s supposed to be my mom? I can feel myself breaking, and the sudden impulse to run and hide in a hole takes over every little thing in my mind as my feet slow down their pace on the pavement.

My feet drag me forward until my hands are able to reach out and grip something, smooth, cold, and hard. I reach out both of my hands and graze the metal with my fingertips, feeling the pole of a playground structure in my embrace. I hug it and slide down until my knees hit the ground. I see my breath, fading into the fall air. Though gorgeous, the coast isn’t exactly a tourist destination.  It’s always covered in low-hanging clouds and dangerous waves. Two people have died here in the last forty years. One was recently, two years ago, at a senior year bonfire. A boy, seventeen years old, careened off of the side of the cliff while chasing his girlfriend. They say the rock gave way beneath him. Or you can believe the eyes of the girl, who swore to God he was dragged. The first death happened nearly 38 years ago. A woman, by the name of Hedera Lincoln, threw herself off the lighthouse and into the bay. There was no body for the police to collect. Fish had taken what little was left of Hedera’s emaciated flesh.

No one cares for the lighthouse anymore. Not after the witness reports of a ghost haunting the platform, wailing for her baby, before walking to the edge of the balcony, climbing the rail and letting go. When I was in the fourth grade I thought it was hilarious: she was crying for a child she wanted so badly and all of a sudden she tosses her body off of the ledge and into the night air, just waiting to hit the water nearly 200 feet below her. What happened to wanting her baby?

Hanging onto the pole for balance that can’t be given to me by my trembling legs, I slowly walk to the cliff, guarded by a white picket fence, nothing else.

“Hello?” I whisper, resting on the wood. “Is anyone out there? Hedera? James?” I feel stupid calling out to the “ghosts” of those before me, but I do anyway. Anything’s better than silence in this unsettling location. I stand in the shadow of the lighthouse that towers on the hill. Not in use, of course. What ship would come to our harbor? Our rotting docks and buildings are of no use anymore.

“What am I doing?” I whisper to nobody in particular.

The ground moans underneath me at the sound of those words and for a second my heart stops beating out of pure terror. An earthquake? Probably. The rocks begin trembling underneath me and a part of the cliff about one hundred meters left of me cracks and breaks off the cliff and into the ocean where the waves swallow it whole.

My mouth opens, and I freeze in terror. A shadowed figure walks out from behind the lighthouse and my throat drops down to my stomach along with my heart. I begin running despite the tendrils of pain shooting up from my tired feet. I need to get away from here. I run more and more until I see trees and picnic benches, still shrouded in hideous gray mist. Where am I?

Turning around to see if the shadow is following, I trip on a root. How stupid. How could you miss a root?! I shout at myself. And then, I hit a wall as I fall — not a person. What the fu–

I look up at the obstacle in my way and meet baby blue eyes the size of saucers, staring at me intently as I shove away from a man’s chest.

“Ashton.”

“Tell me again, what the hell are you doing here?”

Ashton sighs, running hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“I was out running and then.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I heard your shrieking and being the gentlemen I am I came to save you from the big bad seagull.”

I whip around to see the white bird pecking at the leftovers of an apple core. “Sunshine, I know it’s alright to have rational fears, but I think your problem requires therapy.”

Ashton starts walking back to town and through mist. I don’t say anything. I have better things to do than converse with the likes of Ashton Lynch.

I hear a faint vibrating near my hip–must be my mom calling. I hesitate before picking up, but I do anyway. She has a right to explain herself.

“Mom,” I mutter.

“Hey Sash. Sorry, I forgot my phone at home. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be coming home late tonight, so go ahead and eat without me.”

I frown in concern. My mom is never late. She works late, but when she says she’s going to come home, she does.

…Late? Doing what? MDMA? Kiran?

“Why?” I ask.

“Sweetie, there are bills to pay. I’m working an extra shift, ’kay?” I sense the agitation in her voice, but I press on.

“But DiMartino’s closes at 10:00.”

“It’s that Indo-Chinese place, Sash. Leftovers are in the fridge, and I have to go. Just heat up last night’s takeout.”

“Mom, I need to talk–” I start, but she’s already hung up. Seriously, what restaurant is open at 10? Where the heck is my mom?

There has to be something I’m missing.

———————–

Back home, I turn to the one resource I have: my mom’s phone.

Kiran: J, you there?

Kiran: Julia!

Kiran: I got held up in traffic. Please reply at least.

Kiran: Julia, are you okay?

I sigh in relief. He’s online.

Julia: I’m fine.

Kiran: God, you can’t just do that to me. I thought you were having a relapse.

Julia: Why do you care, anyway?!

Kiran: You can’t just forget about us, our past, Sundari…

I groan. Who the hell is Sundari?

Julia: How is Sundari related to you?

Kiran: Holy sh*t, Julia. She’s my daughter too, don’t you dare forget that.

Daughter? Me? I’m Sundari?! No. It can’t be. He can’t be my father. My dad is dead. Dead. Gone. He left me, he left my mother, he is gone. Nonexistent. The phone feels heavy in my cold hands as I stare in disbelief at the screen.

“He’s gone.” I whisper to myself. Maybe if I say it, I’ll believe it.

My throat tightens when I feel cold tears sink down my cheeks. Mom, she hid this from me. This man must be dangerous…

Kiran: Julia?

Kiran: Stop doing this!

Kiran: Don’t go near the medicine cabinet!

Kiran: J, you can get help.

Kiran: PICK UP THE PHONE!

My thoughts are broken by a furious knock at the door. Mom. Finally, someone to explain this all to me. I run gratefully towards the sound. As my hands clasp around the metal knob, I hear a pounding again. But this time, it’s accompanied by a voice.

“Julia, open up!” A man.

“Jules, its Kiran, OPEN THE DOOR!”

Kiran is at my door. My father is at my door. What have I done?

“OPEN THE DOOR, OTHERWISE I’M CALLING THE POLICE! Do you KNOW what that means? Sasha will be taken from you! Like YOU took her from me! JULIA OPEN THE DOOR!!” his voice goes hoarse from the yelling.

I can’t let this man take me away. I don’t care if my mom is doing drugs, I don’t care if we’re poor–but I can’t be taken away from her. She’s my mother. My mind races furiously, and I desperately think of any possible way out of this mess.

“I’M COMING IN, JULIA!”

Oh no. I press against the door and wince in agony and helplessness as it pushes up against my back. A footstep hits the wooden floor. My father is here. Inside my house.

And he’s very much alive.

“Aliciana Brooks” is the nom de plume of Nicole Adams and Anusha Sharangpani.