Bethany

Bethany.
It was a cold morning that had quite a chill in the air. I rolled my sweater sleeve down to warm my exposed hands. “Bethany” I heard from behind me with a hand on my shoulder. “Honey its far too cool for you to be wearing your skirt today, go upstairs and put your pants suite on” “Grandma I’ll be late if I go back to change” I protested. I hated how overprotective my grandmother was and the way she dictated my every move. I had been sent to live with her and my grandfather in Wolverhampton England. I missed America. Everyone here had made fun of me for the various American stereotypes brought about from the minds of immature young Brits. I was the youngest at Wolverhampton Prep. Although my classmates where only a couple of months my senior, they all were so far ahead. Most of them were close to finishing their GCCs and where planning what University they aspired to attend while I still had to make up for the lost time I missed in the British education system. I snapped into a trance when I saw Gemma Lowsley walkout of the house in front of mine. She looked me in my eye and gave me the cold dark eyes she always gave. She raised a brow as she looked upwards. “You Americans don't have a sense of temperature do you? Its not classy for you to show so much in these such conditions”. I looked down at my pale white an almost ghostly knees. “I’ll go change” I muttered to myself. As my grandmother trailed me up to my room, I heard whispers. “Did you say something gram?” I asked hastily “No honey why? What’s the matter?”. The whispers grew louder and louder, they whispers multiped. It became unbearable. I stopped half way up the stairs “Stop it!! stop talking! Stop!!” I fell to my knees. “Bethany! Who are you yelling at?” The whispers became loud screams all directed at me. They were screaming negative comments and insults. “Shut up! shut up!” I screamed as I covered my ears with my hands. “What the bloody hell is going on?” I heard my grandpa angry yell up the stairs. At that moment, the screams stopped. “Beth get up stairs and stop with all that nonsense!” I ran up to my hopefully temporary room with tears in my eyes. My dramatic and emotional crusade up the stairs turned into one of my usual unstoppable bouts of rage. “Why on earth would Carla think to send her here! What are we gonna do to stop this mess!?” my grandpa said as I raced down the long hallway. I tore my way through the large Victorian style room throwing and hitting any and everything in my path. “Beth! Bethany stop! honey please stop!” my grandmother grabbed me as tears ran down my face. “Bethany you have to stop doing this” she said calmly. We both fell on to a broken-glass ridden floor. “ You have to”. I was awoken in my bed by a cold breeze. It was unusually dark for this time of day. A roll of thunder came through my open window. Had it been open all morning? A soft whisper was cooing “Bethany” “Bethany”. I closed my window and followed it the noise. I realized it was night time when I saw that I was in my pjs and a crop tee when the chill became stronger. “Bethany follow me”. I paced myself with small steps down the hallway that seemed to be getting longer as I walked down it. The odd whisper became a melody. “Beeethannny! Bethany my love! Come with me!” I became disoriented and dizzy as I followed the siren-song like cooing of my name. “Bethany!” I sobered up immediately, “What are you doing awake?” I heard my grandmother say. Grandma was standing at the other end of the hall with a worried look on her face. She looked worlds away from me “You are supposed to be asleep”. I couldn't muster up and answer. “I--- I just-” “Oh honey its ok, just go back to bed”. The next thing I remember was being back in class. I fluttered my eyes as I realized the last 15 hours of my life where missing from my memory. “Yeah it was so bizarre” I heard Gemma’s voice from behind me. “Her window flew open and all I could hear coming from it was screaming” was she talking about me?. I slowly turned my head to her to get a better listen, She immediately stopped to looked at me. She shot me a look “Really?” one of her friends said, “oh don’t you know? She’s crazy. I heard her mother sent her here because she’s schizophrenic and bipolar. Rumor is she couldn't handle her”. I shaped my dark brows into a v shape. Gemma could tell I was getting angry, she looked me sideways then changed the conversation. That day it seemed like everyone was talking about me and what happened the day befor. Most of what I heard before I tuned them out was “Oh, don’t you know?” While sitting in class the whisper started again. “Bethany! Bethany!” I shot up in the pale mahogany desk and heard my classmates giggle. “Wow she really is crazy”. I felt my face turn red with anger as I tried to not let my moods change. I held my pencil firmly in my hand until it caused and audible snap that rang throughout the small english class. Blood dripped from my palms. “Whoa. She’s bloody mental” Gemma said. I felt something boiling inside me. “Shut up! Just shut up!! all of you!” The class gasped in shock. I myself was surprised at how I reacted. “Maybe you should go to the nurse” my teacher said, I was out of the door without a second thought. Ignoring her suggestion, I ran the short five block distance in the cold to the home of my grandparents. When I arrived there was a note from Gram on the door “Went to work. Grandpa and I both will be out late tonight” I made my way in. I sat at the door and waited. For three long hours I sat upon the doorway and waited for Gemma to come home. She finally came down the street in a knee length skirt with socks to match, her light auburn hair was bouncing in the wind with each step she took. I decided to pay her a visit. The next thing I remember was Gemma’s mother saying “I’ll be back soon loves!” as she closed the heavy wooden door. I stood in front of her. “What in God’s name brought you here.” she said with a snarl. The whisper returned “Bethany…. Bethany….” “Don’t you hear me? What do you want” “Bethany” it cooed once again. “Stop it” I growled lowly under my breath, she looked confused. “Pardon me?” “Stop it!” I screamed at her. She looked frozen with fear. “Bethany! Bethany!!” “Stop it I say! Stop” “Do it Beth! Do it!!” “STOP IT!!!! BE QUIET” I screamed, Gemma had began to reach for her phone “What on Earth are you talki---” “Bethany” “I SAID SHUT UP” I violently hit her. “What in blazes!” she said with a thump on the glossy hollow floor as she fell. “Bethany” it sang quietly, “SHUT UP!!!” I grabbed a knife off the granite counter. “Bethany… Bethany!!!!!!” I thrust the knife into her; over and over screaming “Stop it! Stop it!” until the whispering stopped. “Bethany! Bethany” I whimpered. “Bethany!”. I left her there. I sat on the couch in her living room and just looked at her, cold and dying. “Bethany” I chanted rhythmically “Bethany, oh Bethany”. After several minutes in a trance I walked up to her. I looked down at Gemma in her bloody uniform with her cold lifeless eyes. “Oh Bethany, look what you have done! Ohhh Bethany!” I said to myself. I returned home to clean myself up and once again waited by the door. When Gemma’s mother returned home I heard screams radiate through our small neighborhood. “GEMMA! GEMMA!!” the wind grew stronger and colder when the breeze came through the curtain “Who did this to you!!!?” a smirk crept across my face. “Oh, don’t you know?”.