Pretty as a Car Crash

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It looks just like how I left it. Photos are still on the marigold colored walls, my dresser is still pressed up against the wall next to the closet, the Victorian desk from my grandmother and the matching chair is still placed under the window across the room from the dresser and my bed is against the wall across the room from my closet, the multicolored pillows up against the wall to create the appearance of a couch. Dad had already brought my suitcases into my room and they are now sitting on my bed on top of my brick red comforter. The light brown wood flooring creaks as I walk into the room, closing the door behind me. So many memories are in this room, but I’m too emotionally drained to really care or acknowledge them. Setting my purse down on the desk, I pull out the chair and sit down, staring out the window with empty eyes.

Two days after Ashton Driscol and Peter Adair left my hospital room, Mom and Dad visited again, this time bringing Nat and Dan with. They found me in an “emotionally and mentally unstable state”, as described by Dr. Cinick. This news threw Mom into a dizzy and the next day, my release date from the hospital, she had the twins and Dad pack up my things at the dorms and bring them home.

“Taking some time off would be good. This Ms. Emerson has yet to be apprehended and I’ll be worrying about you nonstop until she is. Being at home is what’s best for you right now.” Mother was driving me to Manhattan when she told me her plan. I had tried reasoning with her, saying that I’ll be behind in my studies, it’ll just cost more money to retake the courses I’ll be skipping, it’s my life and I can make my own decisions, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Her “decision is final”. I had burst into uncontrolled sobs, strengthening my mother’s belief in having me home is the best possible verdict. All the stresses from the last week finally caught up with me and having my freedom to make my own choices taken away was the last straw. I cried for the ten minutes it takes to get from the hospital in New York City to our home in Manhattan and continued to cry after Mom had parked the car, turned off the engine, and gotten out, leaving me with my thoughts.

When I finally crawled out of the Audi, it was twilight. Now it’s dark out, or at least as dark as it can get in this city. I can hear the T.V. on downstairs, the anchor man for the news program going through the misfortunes of the day. There are some clanking sounds coming from the kitchen, meaning that is must be about seven already. I sigh, running my hands down my face, still staring out the window, and move to get up. My legs are asleep and the sensation walking on them causes hurts. I slowly walk down the hall to the upstairs bathroom and close the door just in time. I hear Mom walk up the stairs seconds later and I leave the overhead light in the bathroom off, standing in the darkness listening for her reaction. She’s walking to my bedroom, not even there yet before she starts talking.

“Jessica, Sweetheart, it’s time for dinner. Come eat wi-“ she stops midsentence as she must have looked into my room, finding me not there. A smirk pulls on my lips and I continue to listen silently. “Jessica? Are you in here?” She questions the empty bedroom. With no response, she walks back down the hall and down the stairs hurriedly. With the sweet satisfaction that I’ve caused her stress, I turn on the light and undress, the smirk still playing on my lips. I turn around and face the mirror. I look at my body curiously, touching the few bruises that I have, looking at my neck, and examining my complexion. I’m paler than usual and, although I’ve been in the hospital, I wouldn’t expect my skin color to get so white. My mind jumps to Ashton and then to his kind.

“No…not possible.” I start to laugh nervously, my laughter quickly changing into hysterics. I open my mouth and lean toward the mirror. The cool countertop gives me goose bumps as it comes in contact with the uncovered skin of my midsection. I bare my teeth, looking for abnormally large eyeteeth. I don’t find any and start to quiet down. I look closely at my eyes, checking for red irises like in the many vampire movies I’ve watched over the years. They’re still their usual watery blue.

“Jessica, what are you doing in there?” I jump back from the counter, breathing in sharply. “Jessica?” Mom repeats, concern and curiosity in her voice.

“Taking a shower.” I say, my voice cracking once I find it.

“Are you alright?” I can hear in the way she asks that she’s willing to pry until she gets the answers she wants.

“I’m fine, you just scared me. I’ll be done soon.”

“Well, dinner’s ready. Hurry and finish up.” Her retreating footsteps echo down the hall and out of earshot. I breath in deeply, realizing that I was holding my breathe. Without looking back at my reflection, I turn on the water and hop into the shower.