The Neighbourhood

This story contains violence, language, death, angst, abuse, and sex.
Reviews are welcome as is constructive criticism.


Chapter 10

She pushed aside the black curtains that hung from the ceiling, trying not to become lost. All around her were curtains. She tried to grab a bunch of them and find a way out but there were just more curtains. There seemed to be no end.

Maybe it’s a trap.

She thought she could hear voices but when she stopped to listen, there was silence. After another five minutes of walking she decided to turn back. She sighed. It was hopeless. She would never find Sarah in this labyrinth of cloth.

On the curtain behind her was a long white line. She hadn’t noticed it before. Suddenly more lines appeared as if there was an invisible marker drawing them on. They connected and formed the outline of a human figure. As Beatrice contemplated this mysterious manifestation details began to appear and filled in the outlined form and soon she could see a woman. It was as if someone took the woman herself and put her in 2-D on the curtain.

The woman was young and beautiful; blond hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a white dress. She was smiling, and it was like a ray of sunshine. Even brighter than her smile was the tear shaped diamond on her necklace. Beatrice’s heart broke as she recognised the woman. It was Sarah.

I must be going crazy! People don’t just appear on curtains.

Beatrice stepped forward and studied her. For a second she saw herself reflected onto the black curtain. She was 12 years old.

Suddenly the image of Sarah began to change. Her dress tore and started to darken with blood. Her right eye started swelling and a trickle of blood ran down from her forehead. Bruises appeared on her arms and legs, blue and black. Her beautiful blonde hair became dirty and tangled.

Then the image seemed to fast forward and the bruises turned yellow, the blood disappeared as did the torn white dress. Sarah was now wearing a blue hospital gown. Her hair was still tangled and her swollen eye seemed to have healed some.

Another fast forward. Dark circles around her lifeless eyes. Skinny frame and sallow face. Mickey Mouse T-shirt that hung to her thighs. On her wrists were several reddish lines a few inches apart, some longer than others.

And then, standing before her, was the real 3-D Sarah, the blanket wrapped around her thin, shaking frame, smelling of alcohol, smoke and sweat just as she had when Beatrice had first met her at Crowley’s house.

“Are you…real?” Beatrice whispered, staring in awe.

Sarah didn’t appear to have heard her. She walked right through Beatrice as if she were just a ghost. Beatrice wondered for a second if she were.

Sarah sat down on the floor, whispering to herself.

She removed something from under her blanket and cradled the wailing thing in her arms. It was a baby.

“Sssh, my child, sssh,” she whispered, holding it against her chest and slowly rocking back and forth.

“Sssh, Mummy’s here.” The child quieted down and let out a little cough. She started to hum softly until it closed its eyes and slept.

She bowed her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she seemed not to notice. She stared at the baby and smiled, a ray of sunshine.

“I love you,” she murmured, lovingly stroking its tiny, bald head. She closed her eyes, the smile still on her face.

The room suddenly changed into a badly managed backyard. Sarah stood in front of Beatrice, but again she didn’t seem to notice her.

Before her was a small mound of dirt. A tiny grave without a tombstone.

Sarah stared down at the grave, the wind blowing her hair in front of her face and causing her clothes to violently flutter. Still she stood there, oblivious to the cold wind.

She knelt by the grave and placed a single dandelion on the dirt, her hands trembling. She looked up at the sky and let out a grief-stricken wail, her shoulders shuddering with the force of her weeping.

It stopped abruptly and Beatrice was back inside the room filled with black curtains.

She had reached the other side of the room and found Sarah sleeping on the floor, her back turned to Beatrice. She looked dead.

Beatrice knelt beside her and touched her shoulder.

“Sarah?”

The body didn’t move.

“Sarah, wake up!” She said, shaking her shoulder. She couldn’t be dead. And apparently, she wasn’t. The woman stirred and let out a groan.

“Ugh, what is it?”

She turned around and rubbed her eyes. Beatrice held her breath.

Sarah opened her eyes and stared at Beatrice. There was no expression on her face.

Oh God, what if I really am a ghost and she can’t see me?

But it would appear she wasn’t.

“You? Did they let you out?” She frowned.

Beatrice had a feeling that if she told Sarah the truth she would not be very happy. And remembering what had happened last time she was angry she was weary to provoke her.

“Yes, they wanted me to…talk to you,” she said. Beatrice had locked Melaina and Joussen in the same room they had imprisoned her in. She was quite sure that talking to Sarah was the last thing they wanted her to do.

They’d probably kill me if they could.

“About what?” Sarah asked, sitting up. She drew her blanket tighter around her and studied Beatrice shrewdly. She doesn’t believe you.

Beatrice was thinking quickly. Then she remembered the gun she had tucked into her jeans. She pulled it out and pointed it at Sarah’s surprised face. Exactly like Delaney’s.

“About letting me go,” she replied. She prayed Sarah would get the point and just do what she said. She wasn’t keen on shooting the woman.

Sarah’s expression went blank. She stared at Beatrice with those lifeless eyes. She recalled what Crowley had said about her eyes and how she had the same look in them that his sister had. It was disturbing to see a living person with dead eyes.

“Suppose I don’t let you go,” she said, “you going to shoot me?”

“No, I’ll kill you,” she lied.

Sarah shrugged. “Go ahead. You would be doing me a favour.”

Beatrice didn’t know what to do. “But…why?”

“I’ve come to the point in my life where there’s nothing left. Believe me, I would gladly die right now,” she said, eyeing the gun.

Beatrice lowered the gun, disgusted.

“No! You have your brother. You can’t leave him, he loves you,” she said, almost pleadingly. Why should she care? This woman was mean and selfish and would use her soul just so she could get drugs. But Beatrice remembered how beautiful she used to be. That smile. She just couldn’t kill her.

Sarah shook her head. “It would be better for him. All I’ve done is use him. I was so mean to him…how can he ever forgive me?” she said as she chewed nervously on her nails.

“But he will forgive you, because he loves you. And he knows that you’re not the person you used to be, the real you,” she said. Then realisation dawned on her.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, dropping the gun. I still love him. No matter what he did…I always loved him because he was my father.

Sarah watched her curiously. “What is it?”

“I…I have to go,” she said, not wanting to cry in front of her.

Sarah grabbed her arm. “No. Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

Beatrice shook her head. “Please…just let me go.”

And to Beatrice’s surprise, she did.

“Alright. Go. The door’s on the left,” she said, turning around and walking away.

Beatrice stared at the woman’s back, but quickly regained her senses and went to open the door before Sarah changed her mind.

She stepped outside and closed the door, not realizing she had left the gun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN--
I originally had two different versions of this chapter but decided to go ahead and upload this one. Sorry for the wait.