Dear Disturbed Diary,
We sat in the back of a cab bound for the ferry dock. My hands wouldn't stop twitching. Despite my unwillingness to say anything, I was incredibly nervous. I asked Tori, "Anything useful to say?"
"Not really, no." Tori smirked as she looked out my window. She insisted looking out of my window, even though she had a perfectly good window of her own. It pissed me off, so I decided to look out her window instead. She just stared at my face. "That's creepy." I said, offhand, without thinking about it. It was true.
"You've got bags under your eyes."
"Yes, I use them to carry all your extra clothes. You're welcome." Sarcasm. The perfect defense against idiots.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I..." What the hell was going on in this conversation? Tori being shy and rude at the same time? I should've taken a picture of that historic moment. "You don't look like you've been sleeping well."
I laughed, for some strange reason. Maybe laughing was a defense mechanism for me, a way of saying 'See, I hate myself just as much as you do. Please don't hurt me.' I turned my eyes to look back out of my window.
"Just an observation..." Tori looked sad. I hadn't seen her sad for years. She's always maintained that Party Girls like her don't get hurt. Still, guilt radiated off of her like the sun.
"A correct observation... I had a dream about a shadow. Faint and willing to follow whatever poor creature it attaches itself to." For some reason, I was opening up to her. For some reason, she looked genuinely interested in what I was saying. "I dreamt of a shadow last night. My shadow, but not my shadow. It moved before I did, leading me. Spikes protruded from it's dark outline, but it was me all the same. I've come to the conclusion that this dark shadow is my past, and if I'm ever to be free of it, I have to stop it from controlling me, or I'll become just like it. " Silence. Tori didn't say a thing. I laughed to lighten the mood. "What silly things are dreams."
More silence. This was becoming a habit of ours now. Then, for some reason, Tori said, "Probably means you're in love with your mother." God forbid that girl ever becomes a psychologist, or we'll all be diagnosed with Oedipus Complexes.
"Oh, and I'm the one who needs help, am I?"
Tori sighed and smirked. "You and 7 billion others."
I turned my mouth into my coat collar so she couldn't see me smile. My mother always persisted that a smile was weakness, and that revealing an emotion of any kind was akin to waving the white flag of surrender. I knew Tori. She loved weakness. So what the hell was up with her, actually being nice for once?
Two hours later we were on the boat heading 'home'.
ThIs Is WhAt BeInG oN a BoAt FeElS lIkE, fOr ThOsE oF yOu WhO hAvE hAd ThE gOoD fOrTuNe To NeVeR hAvE gOnE oN a BoAt.
It occurred to me today that boats are horrible. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never take a boat anywhere. It is a trap set up by whatever horrible demon-thing rules the sea. The demon-thing wants your lunch, and it will do anything to get it.
If it wasn't for the fact that my family's house was out on a little island in the middle of nowhere, I would never go on a boat. Now I know what you're thinking, but before you roll your eyes and throw this book onto your fireplace, please here me out: This island is a nice, family friendly island. It was not a "The Island of Doctor Moreau" or "The Lord of the Flies" kind of island. This island is like Hawaii, but in the middle of a freezing cold lake. The island's primary export is disgruntled tourists.
I'll skip ahead to the interesting bit. We arrived at my house just as the sun was setting over the now-frozen Lake Ellis. Use your imagination to come up with whatever vividly detailed abomination you think my house looks like, it doesn't matter. What does matter is what's inside that monstrosity of architecture: my father and aunt.
I knew exactly what to expect as soon as we rang the doorbell. There would be a three second silence, followed by the sharp click of my aunt's stiletto hitting the ground. As my aunt approached the door, the clicks of her heels would get quieter and quieter as she gains composure of herself, until they reach complete silence. She'll look through the peep hole, take a moment to confirm who she sees, and carefully undo each door lock. She'll open the door silently and carefully, as to not damage the hardwood. Then, she'd stare us down until we tell her politely and formally what the hell we're doing there.
The only problem is that none of this happened.
A minute after I initially rang the doorbell, no one had answered, so I rang again, and heard a shout that possessed my father's voice but not his personality. "Shut up! I'm coming!" Followed by a slew of swear words. My father never swore.
Tori looked at me, a little frightened.
"You can go if you want." I told her.
"No, I'll stay." She smiled. "It was my idea anyway."
Another moment of silence as we waited for the door to happen. "Allow me to apologize in advance for whatever is going to happen."
"Apology not accepted. You're projecting."
I huffed. "I'm making an assumption based on a repeating pattern in the past, that's not --"
Seconds later, I heard the familiar clatter of my father's wheelchair going down the stairs, followed by a crash. Whatever wheelchair riding imposter had just tumbled down the stairs was not my father. My father was never clumsy.
Without warning, the door swung open. My father was glaring at me. I had no idea what to say.
"Hey," I tried. My father just kept staring at me, like he didn't even recognize who I was. I chuckled nervously for too long. "That was lame, sorry."
Finally, my father snapped out of his trance. "Oh, uh... Come in?" He rolled his chair back, propping the door open with his useless foot.
I smirked as I walked in. The house felt cold than normal. My father used to keep it unbearably warm, so as to (in his words) "repel the germs". I personally think that he just likes making people uncomfortable. "Not going to ask me when the last time I had a cold was?" I asked him.
He raised an eyebrow. "It's summer."
"Yeah... That's never stopped you before."
Awkward silence.
My father sighed. "Amy, why are you here?" He didn't talk to people often. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but this is just so..."
More awkward silence. I apparently had inherited my father's propensity for awkwardness. "Yeah..." I looked at Tori, who raised an eyebrow and nudged me on the shoulder. "I just... missed you. Yeah."
My father looked suspicious. Like any second I was going to shoot him, or sneeze on him, or yell at him, or steal all his money.
I quickly excused myself to go wash my hands. Tori followed close behind me as I ran to the kitchen.
"Awkward..." Tori said, awkwardly.
"Yeah." That seemed to be the only thing I could say anymore. What the hell was I agreeing to? "I feel like I'm in the twilight zone." I turned on the tap water to let it get boiling hot, and rumbled around in the drawers below the sink looking for the bleach. It was strangely absent.
"Huh... No bleach." That was weird. I started rummaging through the pantry. No bleach there either.
"Why would there be bleach?" I turned to look at Tori, who was leaning against the counter. I instantly freaked out.
"Please get your butt off the counter." I asked with polite panic. Tori raised an eyebrow. "My father's obsession with germs..." Tori got up from the counter, and took a paper towel and cleaned off the smudge her butt had left on it. Tori moved to another counter and did the exact same thing. I gave up.
Tori had that look her face. I know that look. That's the look of a determined jerk. "So... he makes you wash your hands with bleach?"
"Only when I've been outside." I said that like it made sense.
"Oh, well, that's rational." Tori said sarcastically.
"Yeah." That wasn't even a yes or no question. Now I'm just being ridiculous. "I still need to wash my hands."
I lathered my hands up with soap and stood in front of the sink, frozen. I couldn't move.
Tori tapped her foot impatiently. "Do you and your hands want a moment alone?"
"No, I was just..." Something was really bugging me. I looked at the soap bottle: it wasn't anti-bacterial. "Soap's not anti-bacterial." What the hell was wrong my father?
"Shit, call the police. Straight up "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" shit's going on here. Your dad's been replaced by a slightly-saner alien." Tori rubbed her temples, where she was probably getting a headache. I couldn't blame her.
I stared down at my hands, tracing my thumbs along the scars of my knuckles. "It's just... When I was a kid, I used to spend hours cleaning my hands. I used to sit here at this sink for hours, picking my nails until they broke off... rubbing my knuckles until they turned red and bled, and now... It doesn't even matter, does it?"
"No..." Tori shook her head solemnly. It was the most serious I'd ever seen her. "It doesn't. It never did." Tori looked so sad. Sadder than I'd ever seen her before. I wondered what made her stop being so self-centered and finally consider other people for once. Maybe the same thing that made other teens turn stupid on their 18th birthday had made Tori turn serious?
My aunt chose that exact moment to saunter in to the kitchen, shopping bags dangling off her thin arms and a victorious smirk on her. She always looked so damned proud of herself. I had no idea why. They only important thing she'd ever done in her life was piss me off.
Obvious disclaimer: I don't like my aunt, at all.
"Amy!" She exclaimed in her classic breathy voice. She always sounded like she'd just run a marathon. She thought it sounded sexy. I thought it sounded like she was having an asthma attack.
"Claudia!" I mimicked her whispery voice, which made Tori laugh. At least I'd been able to make one person happy today.
She dropped her bags and ran up to me, wrapping her twig-like arms around me and giving me a 'hug'. "It's so good to see you!" Her perfume was overwhelming, like some kind of flowery form of gas-warfare. Tori was almost rolling on the floor with laughter. All I could was groan.
Finally, she let go of me. I could swear I had indents on my back from her fake nails. "I love your hair!" She screamed, obviously not realizing how close I was to her. "I love the color." White. My hair was white. White is the absence of color. Idiot.
"Yeah." I really needed to stop saying that.
Claudia was still grinning. Or maybe the Botox had just frozen her face that way. It was so creepy. "How've you been?"
"Nope." That wasn't any better. "I mean: Good." I looked at Tori, who gave me a thumbs up. Tori looked green, but it must've just been my aunt's perfume getting to her.
After a few awkward seconds of standing around, my father wheeled into the room. Unhappily, he led us all to the sitting room where we sat on plastic-wrapped furniture.
The next two-hours are too sickening to describe. Suffice to say that the hours consisted of little dialogue, and the only contact made otherwise was Claudia's hand on my father's useless leg. Tori looked nervously at me the whole time. Finally, I excused us and we went up to my old room.
I don't have much sentiment for that prison of a room. If it wasn't for the fact that it had four-walls and a door, I wouldn't even call it a room. Originally, when we first moved into the house, my father's office was supposed to be a room. Instead, they chose to stick me in the broom closet. Really shows you where their priorities were.
Tori, as kind as ever, seemed to love my room. "This is great!" Lying politely was her specialty. Lying rudely was mine. I hadn't said anything since we got back to my room, and Tori -- with her keen intellect - knew that something was wrong. "Something on your mind?"
I was so bothered that I couldn't even think of a sarcastic remark. I decided to tell the truth. "Did you see how close they were?"
"Your aunt and your dad? Yeah, I did. I wouldn't read to much into it, though. I think she was just comforting him." Tori always had such a simple explanation for everything.
I huffed. "Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"No."
"You've got to stop saying that. People are gonna think you're an optimist!" Tori threw her arms up in the air, and I couldn't stop the smile that crossed my face. 'Twice in one day,' I thought. 'I must be slipping.'
I paced back in forth, my mind restless, jumping from theory to theory, each one more unpleasant than the last. "There's something else going on here."
"Well... Isn't there always?"
Tori and I sat in silence for a second. We both knew what the other was thinking.
"Yeah..." I started, but, but Tori cut me off.
"No, no, no, no. You're not going to do that here. You're here for closure, not to do your --"
"My what?"
"Your..." Tori struggled to find the words for my strange method of existence. "Acting thing."
I smirked. Tori secretly loved my brand of insanity. "I've got a plan."
"Shit, no." Tori started walking towards the door, but I grabbed her by the arms and twirled her around, pushing her towards her suitcase.
"What's the trashiest item of clothes you've got?"
"Um... Thanks for that?" Tori bent over and started digging around in her messy case. She pulled out a pair of booty shorts. I stared at her with eyes wide in terror. "They're for tanning, I swear."
"We're not going to be doing much of that." I snatched the shorts away from Tori and walked to the closet, where I changed into them. They were tight and itchy.
Tori laughed at me the second she saw me in them, but she was still confused. "You gonna tell me what this is all about?"
"What kind of person do you least suspect of being clever?"
I was proud of the fast speech Tori answered. "An idiot." I nodded. "Are you... Going to pretend to be an idiot?"
"Something's up here, and it's our job to figure out what." I turned to face the one, small mirror that I had always avoided before. I found my reflection distracting. I looked into my eyes that I had always been told looked just like my mother's, and promised her that I was going to find out what really happened to her.
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