Death is Black and White

"Dude, that's ridiculous. You're fucked up!" Adam's voice comes from behind his ninja mask. He has to lift it off his face to stuff another roll of Smarties in his mouth.

"Yeah, and it felt so real! Damn, I should like get some psychology or somethinnnn," I drift off, high on sugar and swear words.

Sam laughs her small laugh and says, "Psychology? I think you mean therapy! Hey, let’s go to your house, I’m freezing my ass off."

We all agree that we've gotten enough candy and roll on over to my house. The porch lights are off-- it's nearly midnight-- and I can't see anyone inside. We all laugh and stumble up to the porch and sneak in.

"Mom's probably out with her friends," I say, and something catches my eye.

Miranda's sitting at the kitchen table with three of her friends, hunched over what looks like a board game with three long candles as the only lighting. "Is that a ...Ouija Board?" I ask, puzzled.

They're too immersed in whatever the hell they're doing to answer me, but Sam draws in a sharp breath. "Oh my God!" She shouts. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? How long have you been doing this?" The light mood from just a moment before is completely gone.

Miranda's mouth forms an 'o' shape. "It's just for fun, stupid," she snaps.

"Just for fun. Awesome. No, you obviously don't know what the hell this thing is because you're just playing around with it like it's a toy!" She says 'toy' like you would say 'atom bomb'.

We all look at Sam like she's crazy. Because she sure is acting like it. "Considering I bought it at Toys R Us..." One of Miranda's friends says quietly.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Sam explodes. I take a step back. "This thing opens doors. Doors to places you don't ever want to see, or even think about. That thing just screams "demons"! God, you're putting your whole family in danger, fucking inviting spirits into your home..."

She keeps ranting, pacing the living room and talking animatedly with her hands. Adam and I sink into the corner, exchanging scared looks from time to time. Sam has never, ever done anything like yelling at my sister.

"Sam, you need to relax!" Miranda said calmly.

"I need to relax? No, you need to get rid of that thing!"

"Fine! Just shut up, you're giving me a headache."

Sam shakes her head and looks to me. "Sorry, can we go to my house?" She asks and starts towards the door.

"What?" I say in disbelief.

"It's just... ugh. I have to go. You can come if you want," She takes Adam's hand and drags him out of the house.

I stare. "....What? Sam!"

She stops in the middle of my lawn and shakes her head again, like she's disappointed. "Please come," She calls desperately.

"What the hell?" I shout. "You're not even telling me what's up! Just acting like a complete and total psycho!"

Sam looks surprised, then hurt, then angry, then goes back to normal in two seconds. I bite my lip, seeing as how I haven't said anything to get Sam truly mad at me in years.

"You're real stupid, just like Miranda."
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I couldn't sleep last night. I don't get into fights, it's just not my thing. Miranda's friends left soon after Sam stormed off like a baby, and I really didn't have the heart to say anything to her. I mean, yeah, I was a little harsh with Sam, but she was being so stupid! Miranda didn't even say a word to me, just went off to bed. She probably expected me to apologize. Whatever.

Whoever said that you need to have a big fight to have a true friendship was on crack. Or suffering from brain damage. That was probably induced by the use of crack. Friendship isn't supposed to leave you tossing and turning until 5 in the morning because you've had too much candy and you can't stop thinking about the fact that your friends should be with you at that moment watching horror movies and making perverted jokes and stuffing your faces with even more candy but in reality they're sitting alone hating on you for being a bitch even though it wasn't entirely your fault but you don't know how to fix it. And it shouldn't be your job to fix it, really. And that just makes everything worse, that thought.

So I wake up and look at the clock, which reads 12:30. Sweet. I roll out of bed and wrap a blanket around myself because it's really fucking cold. "Stupidass thermostat," I croak.

The kitchen looks the same as it did last night, the stupid Oiuja Board on the table, empty plastic cups scattered around, and a couple of bowls half-filled with stale chips and popcorn. I grab a glass of orange juice and make myself a sandwich, then I sit down at the table in front of the Ouija Board.

"Alright, board game from hell, let's see what you're all about," I say and lean in closer. Apparently there's a board, which has all the letters of the alphabet on it, along with numbers 0-9, yes, no, and goodbye. Then there's this little wooden planchette with a window in it that you put your fingers on and ask the question of wonder or some shit, and it's magically dragged to the answer. Threatening. There’s nothing on the box that says anything about “opening doors”.

Next to the board is a pad of paper with Miranda's loopy writing on it.

I take a bite of my sandwich and read the paper, "All righty... 'yes', 'yes', '9', 'girl', 'water', 'Lotty'."

"Yes?"

I whip my head around, expecting to see Miranda or my mother, but no one's there. God, if Sam's here trying to prove a point, I'll kill her. I push my chair back and put my plate in the sink, then see a note. It says: "Shopping with Miranda, call if you need anything! Love, Mom."

Sweet. I write underneath it: "Cool, going for a walk, maybe Sams. Dunno. Lyd."

Then I go to my room to put on some clothes. I'm not sure where to go yet, but it doesn't matter as long as it's warmer than in my house. I pull on a T-shirt and look in the mirror. Playing with my hair, something catches my eye in the mirror behind me. My hairbrush looks like it's scooting off my desk, so I spin around for reassurance. But there's the brush, sitting in it's normal place. I rub my eyes.

"Where's my iPod..." I mumble, and start searching. It's not in my bed, not on my desk, I don’t see it on the--

Something starts making a scratching sound. I turn around towards the noise and there, right in front of the mirror, is a little girl with coffee colored hair sitting cross-legged and brushing it with my hairbrush. But her reflection's what gets me; across from her is the same girl in the mirror, making the same movements but looking totally different. Her eyes are black and cold, clumps of bloody tangles get stuck in my hairbrush, scars and bruises cover her face and arms, and her dress is torn and stained. I scream and her reflection laughs at me as I run out of the house, forgetting about my ipod but not forgetting about her.