Note: Audrey Clay's Viewpoints
I started to pack my things at that time when Aunt Geraldine, Dre's mother entered the hospital room. She approached me with that usual, friendly smile on her face.
"Hello, my dear," she greeted. She sat down on the chair where Dre used to sit while I was resting on the bed. "How do you feel? Leaving the hospital now?"
I nodded, not looking at her. I continued to shove my folded clothes on my black backpack. "It was a bit great," I said, shrugging, still, my back on her.
"A bit?" she asked, sounding confused. "Why a bit?" she questioned once again. "I went to the hospital once and when I reached the day of getting out, it was the best feeling in the world."
I closed the zipper of my bag and I sat on the bed, settling the backpack on my lap. I smiled at Aunt Geraldine, my way of reply to her statement. "I know, but...you know what happened to Dad and Mom. They are gone now." By mentioning them between my lips, the smile had already faded. "I happen to be alone now."
She sighed, sympathetically. I know that I could always count for sympathy from Aunt. Needless to say, she is my mom's sister. Older sister. Well, I am an only child, so I sincerely happened to be alone now.
"Aw, dear," she said, "you are not alone. We're here. Dre, Ernie, and I, of course. We're here for you. We will never leave you alone. Get it, Audrey?" She smiled and stood up from her chair, espousing me in a hug. "Now, let us wait for Dre." She pulled away and I sat on the bed again. I grabbed my phone and started to message Connie.
Audrey: Hey, Connie. I'm leaving the hospital now. Just wanna tell you that you could always visit me at the house. And bring baby Joshy too! Want to see my brother!
Connie: Sure thing.
I smiled and threw back the phone in my bag. I checked my wristwatch and it read eleven-thirty. Dre took forever before he even came here. Is he buying food again?
"Was that Connie?" I heard Aunt Geraldine ask. I looked up at her, and she was smiling, I saw. I nodded.
"Yes. It was Connie," I answered.
She nodded. "You seemed to be unusually kind to her currently. I know you hated her, dear. She is your father's girlfriend. The one that can be your new mother. I can see she is kind."
I shrugged, smiling to her, carefully. "I was just thinking, recently, when Dre told me Dad was — when he told me Dad was — " I did not finish. It was so poisonous to say it. "That maybe that was what Dad wanted for me. To be nice to Connie and Joshy. And accept the truth that he and Mom could no longer stand each other." That they will never go back to each other again.
Like they used to.
She nodded. "Good to see that. Your father really wanted that to happen before he — passed away." She smiled and patted my hair.
I want Dad to be proud of me, I wanted to say.
The door opened, and we both looked at the door, seeing Dre, smiling internationally, ear-to-ear. "We could go now! Father's arriving around five minutes."
* * *
We slid inside the car, Dre and I at the back seat. I was on the window, listening to some songs while gazing out of the window. There are trees we were passing and houses, of course. People biking around.
It made me want to bike around again.
What a day.
I rolled down the window and let the cold, comforting wind brush my hair and cheeks. It felt really consoling and helpful. It was really cold, fanning my face and neck, generously.
Sighing, I folded my arms on the window and laid my chin in between them, staring at the surroundings. It was really calming. It was truly soothing my mind.
Oh, how I miss them. My friends, my family, all of them. They all just...died. All of it happened way too speedily for me. I cannot even process the whole thing. I told Aunt Geraldine that they died because of me, but she kept telling me that it was not my fault. The one who broke into the house was the one who did all of this. I want to tell them that it was not some sort of robbery break-in thingy that I sometimes hear on the television, and it was an unbelievable thing.
Of course, saying "unbelievable," they will not really believe it. But one day, they will.
Not that I will invite them to play that game again, but to convince them. I need to find proof that it was not a break-in. That it was that lady who killed them. And I will not play that game again since it really broke us. Me. It broke me completely. And I do not want to lose the only ones that I have now.
They are my only home now. But, I was not living in their house for now. I am going to stay at my house currently. Then, when I think I have had enough of that house, I will move my silly, unfortunate bum at Aunt's house.
I want to start a new chapter after I move to their house.
Since the hospital was really far from my house and at Aunt Geraldine's too, I reckoned, I was just going to rest for the whole ride. I rolled up the window again and leaned back on my seat. I sighed, before closing my eyes to a complete, pacifying rest.
* * *
My eyes opened.
I was on...my house? Too fast. I thought the hospital was too far from here? Huh. Weird. When I tried to stand up, my head hurt so badly. By the unexpected agony, I slapped my hands to my forehead, hissing.
Forcefully, I stood up and before I realize it, I was staring into a lady. I remember this face. She was the one... Oh my, goodness. She was the one who killed my mom and my friends!
This bovine, stupid, asshole, old hag, mindless, half-witted, idiotic, imbecile, moronic, half-assed bitch.
I want to rip your hair apart! I want to throttle you! I want to do everything they do in some movies! I want to rip your throat out of that pale, long, giraffe-ish neck of yours!
In short, I want to avenge my mother and friends.
We're in the endgame now, bitch.
I hate you, one million.
A looking-glass. Seriously? A freaking mirror? Hold that thought — that means, I am the one I called a bitch? What the heck is happening? I am Audrey Clay, not the stupid lady who killed my loved ones.
I touched my left cheek to see if it was true, and I felt the cold cheek. The pale, gross cheek. Ew. Bring me back to my body! I am begging, please! I prayed in my mind.
When I looked at my hands, there was blood. Blood, dripping when I placed both my hands down to my sides. I looked again in the mirror. I was still the lady.
My breath fastened and my stomach, my pale, gross-looking stomach, was drawing in and out as I begged for respiration. I brought my hands to the both sides of my head, running it through the white hair. Tears spilled down from my eyes.
"No, no. This cannot be real," I whispered in a husky voice that I was not used to. Seriously? Even my voice?
If I am singing and my voice is really...you-know-what, then so this is. This voice is even hateable than my voice when I am singing. Argh! Who put me into this?
"I can see you're confused," I heard a voice.
My voice.
I turned around and saw me. She was smirking. I was smirking.
Wow. I did not realize that is how ugly I am to look from another body. Argh! Set that thought aside, Audrey! Focus!
"Who are you?" I asked, stupidly. Of course, I am her, and she is me. It is complicated, do not ask me.
"Audrey Clay, duh?" she said, sassily, standing up and approaching me.
Wow. I am sassy.
Focus!
I shook my head, disagreeing with her words. "No, you are not!" I shouted. "I am Audrey Clay! You are stealing my body away from me!"
She laughed, hysterically, like I had said the funniest joke ever in the whole wide universe. That was great, because when I am in middle school, every time I try to crack a joke, no one was laughing. How mortifying.
Now, someone was laughing, hysterically, to something that I had said that was not even a joke. And unfortunately, it was still the other me.
Her laughter died down while I stare at her, blankly. "Is that so?" she asked. "Then how come do you look like a killer? Look at what you are wearing!"
I shook my head, slowly, then, looked at the white dress that I was wearing. It was now red. Completely red. Coated with blood. You can scarcely see any white parts anymore.
Then, across my feet, there was a knife. Its sharp end has blood too. I shook my head vigorously. I started to cry. I sent both my bloody hands to the sides of my hair, pulling it out. I sobbed and sobbed, shaking my head as I laughed hysterically and evilly.
"No! I did not kill them," I said quietly, more like to myself. "No — no! Please — make it — stop!" I said, between sobs. I was still shaking my head as I walked backward and then I reached the small table in the living room. The shattering glass had rung my ears when I hit the table and knocked down the picture frame.
I looked at the frame and saw me and my friends' picture. My mom was included in that picture too. We were smiling. Happiness written in our faces, but now, it was full of sorrow and pain.
When I looked down again in the floor, their bodies were lying there. My friends and my mom were lying dead on the floor, blood underneath them.
I am not believing this shit. This is not real.
Before I know it, the other me was on my back now. Her lips were beside my right ear. "You killed them." She laughed again as she walked around me until she was in front of me.
Hold on — the knife! I could just stab her.
I ran to the knife and stab her on the back. But she did not show any signs of agony. Instead, I felt something trusted onto my back. When I removed the knife from her back, I felt the pain too. Once I looked at the part of her back where I stabbed her, no scar was in there.
I backed out suddenly, feeling the agony on my back. I touched where the wound was and I felt blood coating my hand once again. So, I stabbed her, but it was like stabbing me. So if I stab my body which was being possessed by another soul, I am the one who will feel the pain because that body was mine?
Is that it?
I felt myself getting weaker and weaker as liters of blood pool the couch where I was perching. And before I know it, I was hissing in anguish and groaning.
She approached me again and grabbed my cheeks tightly with one hand. She was grinning evilly. "A dirty beginning leads to a dirty ending, and dirty work must be erased."
And my lids fell close, then I felt nothing.
My eyes opened widely suddenly. I am in the car, soaking wet with sweat. It was as though I took a bath. My head was resting on Dre's lap. He was grabbing my arm tightly, certain worry in his eyes.
"Audrey! Audrey! Are you okay?" he beckoned.
I sat up and dabbed the sweat on my forehead. I was breathing vigorously like I had not breathed for years. "Mirror — give me a — mirror!" I ordered.
My aunt swiftly rummaged through her bag. She took out a small mirror, and I looked at myself. It was still me and not that bitch.
It was just a dream.
I sighed with sudden ease. "I — think I am — fine," I nodded and forced on a smile. "Don't worry. Just had a dream about the past." I sat properly to where I was sitting earlier and leaned back, closing my eyes and opening them back again.
"Here," I heard Dre from beside me.
I looked at him and saw him handing me a hanky. It was a blue one.
"Dry yourself," he said, and I nodded.
I took the hanky from his hand and rubbed it in my forehead, letting it absorb all the sweat I had just let out. I wiped it at my nose, also, because it was sweaty too. Then, to my neck.
What does that girl mean in her sentence?
"A dirty beginning leads to a dirty ending, and dirty work must be erased."
* * *
I was sitting on my bed.
It has been days since I had that...nightmare in Uncle Ernie's car. It cannot be erased easily from my head. Even though how busy I make myself. How do working people do that?
I have not opened the letter Dad gave me. And I think I need to read it now. I have been keeping it for weeks. It was nearly Christmas and I still have not opened it. And I think I should now.
I stood up and went to my nightstand, rummaging through the drawer for the letter. I found it finally and sat on the bed before opening it. I unrolled it and read the hand-written words.
Dear Audrey,
I know it has been forever since I met you. And I am sorry for everything. For all the pain I have brought to you and your mother.
I know you hated me, and still do, but I cannot blame you for that. No one can stand any father who chooses to leave his child and wife, everyone knows that.
But, I have my own reasons too. We, me and your mother, have our own reasons, that is why we cannot be together anymore.
I know I left you out of the blue, but that does not mean I do not love you. I loved you, my little girl. And still do. It was hard. So hard for me to leave you two. But I think it was for the best.
Even though I know it is too late, I still want you to read this letter because my days are counted now, Audrey. I will be gone soon. I will die soon.
If you hate Connie and me, well at least, love your half-brother, Joshy. I would be really happy if you will. He's turning one and I hope before he turns to that age, you will learn to love him too.
But still, the decision will be finalized by you.
I love you, my dear daughter. I am sorry for everything. I hope everything that I have done is just nearly enough for us to be okay. I do not want any hard space between us, Audrey. I am still your father, and same to you, you are still my daughter.
I will miss you when I am gone, Audrey. I am sorry.
Dad
Under his name, I can see tear marks. And I replaced his tear marks with mine. I was crying over the letter and my father. I should have never said those bad things to him at the last time that we met.
I am so, so stupid (but that killer lady was more stupid than me, of course).
Stupid to not realize he really loved me and us, me and my mom.
I hope he could hear my endless apologies that I kept muttering. Argh. I am so slow and stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I just want to scream!
I want to know why this all is happening. But of course, I will never. Life does not work that way. Challenges do not work that way.
You are the one who needs to know why this challenge is being sent to you.
I really give up. I am alone now. No one to rely on. No one to cheer me up and share the bucket of popcorn at cinemas with.
Oh. How depressing.
* * *
After minutes of crying, I stopped and wiped my tears. I am thinking of something. I rushed to my table and grabbed my journal, writing down every thought that I could and what really happened at that time — how my friends and mom died.
December 3, 1977
November 9, 1977. That was when my friends and mom died because of something...questionable. I know if I tell the scenes on people, they will just laugh their asses off because of such a gibberish talk coming from my mouth.
But it was true.
If you will read this, I know you will not believe me. I know someone will live here soon enough. When I die. Or maybe if I move houses. But this is a warning for you that living here was complicated.
Dangerous, to say the right word.
We woke something up by playing a "little" game. Which was not little at all. It was a dangerous game. I do not quite know if it was the game or the one who was taking care of it. It was just too...complicated.
Things were blurry, but soon, they will be clearer to see.
These following weeks that I was resting, I was trying to figure everything out. And I think, I just placed the shattered pieces correctly. Which was totally doubtful.
I know you will be doubtful if you hear all that had happened back in this house.
I played this game at the living room with my mom and friends. It was what people call Jinx. You already know what that means so I do not have to say that anymore.
By yelling Jinx, it was like calling the lady too. Because it was her name. Her name was Jinx. She is a pale lady with long white hair that reached below her knees. It was silky and straight. No one wanted to see her face, I was sure. She is totally scary. Especially for kids.
She has red eyes and a normal nose just like what we people have. She kills the people whoever calls her name. No, just to the people who yell her name. She thinks people are mad at her. She does not want anyone disliking her name just because it means "bad luck."
So in order to say her name and not bother her, you have to say it, nicely. Cheerfully. She will like it.
But she does not know her own weakness. The one that could stop her. It was late before I know her weakness. That was why it was too late back then to save my friends and my mom.
Her weakness was the word "buttercup." That could stop her. But you have to use it correctly. She knows what word you will say. And she will always be the first one to say "Jinx." And once you are jinxed by her, it was your turn to be destroyed by her.
She will not stop until she gets you.
And from that day that my friends and mom died, I will never forget the regretful game that we play.
The Game of Jinx.
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