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Extended Work
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| Graffiti: Chapter VII | |
| By Kezzi | ||
| 31 August 2008 | ||
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Tabitha Walker is an outsider, shunned by the world after her life is
turned around by mysterious circumstances. But an eerie message on her
desk at school and a seductive smile change everything as the world of
the supernatural reveals itself...
-VII-
Clocks “W-what the hell are you doing here?” Tabby stammered, backing away down the hall. Dean’s sharp watch pinned her to the wall in surprise, hair dripping like the darkest ink over his piercing eyes. She could see his fists twitching beneath their sodden sleeves as he slowly opened his lips. “I came to say sorry for saving your life.” Tabby swallowed. His voice was quiet in the most dangerous way possible, and the hairs on her neck began to stand up in warning. “Who told you where I live?” Her tone was defensive, with an underlying hint of fear. “Your darling Andy, just now,” he hissed mockingly. “I knew you were around here, though…it’s always so easy to find pathetic, predictable people…” His words were harsh, almost spitting each syllable as he crept silently closer. Tabby pressed herself harder against the wall. “Your beloved Andy who didn’t give a shit that poor, helpless Tabby was dying.” “He did care!” she retaliated suddenly, desperate to deny her own suspicions as they issued from Dean’s black mouth. He laughed cruelly. “Really? Oh, dear…so your precious Andy who cares for you so much just watched while you struggled? Bet he got a load of thrills from that…then again, he has a lot of unusual fetishes you don’t know about…” “Stop it!” Tabby yelled, closing her eyes, trying to block out any trace of him or his words. She couldn’t bear what he was saying; she knew it was all lies - it had to be lies - but he’d punched a gaping hole through her defences. She stood shaking with a mixture of anger, revolt and fear - staring him hard in the eye, willing him to leave. But he did no such thing. Moving ever closer, an evil smile spread across his wet face. “Who was it that saved you, little Tabby?” She stayed silent, stock still as his cold breath met her flushed cheeks. “Come on, who was it?” His voice raised, she felt her nerve impulses go haywire and jumped violently. “Who stopped that thing from killing you? Who got no thanks for it?” “Y-you,” she stuttered out, wishing the wall would split open behind her and envelop her shuddering figure, whisking her away from the demon who was now leaning in towards her neck. She felt every muscle seize up as he whispered in her ear, bolts of electricity shooting up and down her frightened body. “That’s right…and you know why?” Tabby gulped, cautiously shaking her head, eyes wide and blankly staring ahead at the opposite wall. “Because I’m the only one who understands,” he hissed, lips just millimetres from her sensitive earlobe. “Although someone didn’t try to kill me – oh, no - I actually died.” Tabby’s heart just about stopped. Dean pulled away, and as she stared at him in shock lights began to pop before her eyes. A strange, high-pitched ringing in her ears had suddenly blocked out all thought…her limbs felt so heavy, her vision turning dark and patchy as Dean vanished in front of her… And, before she knew it, her legs had collapsed beneath her; body slumping down the wall and head making contact with the hard floor as her whole world went black.
*
She felt weightless. This lack of gravity would have induced a feeling of freedom were it not for a pressing weight on all sides, forbidding movement. The pressure suppressed her breathing; her lungs would not fill, no matter how hard she tried to inflate them. And whenever she opened her mouth, she choked… She was swimming through murky water that was neither hot nor cold; the depths hidden and shadowy. Above her was a patch of light; sun? Sky…the outside. She began to kick, feeling the resistance like rubber against her bare skin. Her hands scooped the liquid behind her as she neared the light; chest aching with desire to reach the top. Straining, unbreathing, she reached up and broke the surface… Tabby came to with a jolt, gasping, eyes darting around as the renewed sunlight from the window washed over her pale face. Without any idea of how she had got there, she realised she was lying on the sofa in the living room; one of the old throws tucked neatly around her shaking body. A glass of cool, clear water sat nearby on the arm of the sofa - she reached for it and drank gratefully, the glass cold against her parched lips. After setting it down, she lay back, panting. What the hell just happened? She dug into the very depths of her mind, trying to remember the events that morning. A cosy feeling…I was in bed…embarrassment? Oh, yes, Andy came round…warm, loved…he hugged me…and a bird. A tiny bird taking off into the sky… Tabby shook her head, straining to make the memory surface; but nothing would come except the distant crackle of a single, shivering lightningbolt. Everything after that was just blackness. So how did I get here? she wondered, smoothing the folds of the old blanket across her chest. Did I fall asleep while Andy was hugging me? No; she remembered a phone call, and his goodbyes as she shut the door… Confused, she sat up slowly, blood in her temples throbbing. A migraine was coming, she could feel it. Standing up and trying to steady her spinning head, she went on a slow, dizzy quest for painkillers; barefoot on the cold kitchen floor, swallowing down the chalky tablets, it was just her and the ticking clock.
*
Dread swirled uncomfortably in the pit of Tabby’s stomach as she clambered onto the old bus the next morning, pursued immediately by the shuffling smokers. They stood behind her, nudging each other and sniggering as she took her ticket. Giving them an annoyed sidewards glance, she quickly took up her usual seat by the window and was just about to plug her ears with headphones when someone else sat down next to her. Looking up, she was surprised to find Ollie smiling at her nervously. “I didn’t know you were on this bus!” she exclaimed, repacking her mp3 player. He shrugged. “I usually sit further back, and I didn’t know you before.” He was blushing slightly. “But now we’re friends…aren’t we?” “Of course,” Tabby grinned, glad to have someone to talk to during the journey. “How are you today?” “Not too bad,” he replied. “And you?” Tabby made a face. “Dreading it…I’ve got a detention with Mrs Sheady.” “Oh, that slag.” Tabby’s eyes widened; she hadn’t thought of him as the sort of person to use language like that. “Haha, why do you say that?” “She tried it on with Andy last year,” he said. “Poor woman – must have been so shocked when she realised.” Tabby was suddenly curious. “Realised what?” “Oh…that, er, he was a student. She met him at this club, you see.” “Oh…yes, poor her,” Tabby grinned; but something about Ollie’s sudden unwillingness to make eye contact told her that it wasn’t what he’d meant to say. After a while, the question that had been playing about her mind for the last couple of days finally reached her lips and surfaced. “Speaking of Andy…does he talk about me a lot? I mean…sometimes, does he - you know - mention me?” She had turned a deep shade of beetroot. Ollie seemed to stall for a moment, some deep thought hidden behind his eyes; but then he collected himself. “Yes…yes, actually, he does.” Tabby’s eyes lit up. “Really? What does he say?” “Just, you know…the funny things you do and talk about. He’s always retelling your jokes to me. He says you make him laugh, and he likes that.” She grinned. “I hope so.” She swallowed, looking down. Should I ask? Unsure, she began to fidget. It’d probably make it so obvious… On top of that, she worried that Ollie might tell him. But she wouldn’t be content until she knew…dismissing her worries, she decided to give it a shot; taking a breath, she began to pick at the fraying edges of her mangy seat. “Has he ever…told you how he feels about me?” she blurted out, not meeting his gaze. He was still for a good while before replying. “I don’t know…I think maybe you should just ask him.” “Okay,” she masked her disappointment with a smile, knowing she’d never be able to pluck up the courage to take Ollie’s advice. “Thanks anyway.” But he seemed intent on staring straight ahead. Bemused, she almost made a move to ask what was wrong; but then stopped dead. Shit. The second she had mentioned Andy, his tone had changed. His voice had gone flat, his posture slumped; expression crestfallen. All the signs of envy shrouded him as he sat there, pointedly distancing himself from her. Oh, crikey…does Ollie fancy me? Upon arriving at school, he stood up very quickly and was almost first off the bus as students slouched down the metal steps into the misty grounds. Tabby waited until the majority had gone before making her exit; reluctance to face the school day mingling with annoyance at herself for her obliviousness to Ollie’s feelings. After all, he’d been there for her when Andy hadn’t…he’d even blushed when he spoke to her…how could I have been so stupid? Stupid. That’s what Dean called her. Maybe he was right? As this thought swam in her mind, a different, all-too-familiar face suddenly burst into life behind her vision. That face - it wore a smirk ten times more malicious than Dean’s, but the eyes were so different. Insane, psychotic, completely out-of-control… Him. She shook her head violently to rid his disgusting features from her thoughts as her stomach threatened to reject its contents through her gullet. He already haunted her nightmares; torturing her waking hours too would cause a mental breakdown, she knew it. Out of habit, she adjusted the sleeves of her jacket to ensure they were fully hiding her arms; not permitting even a tiny chance of exposure. She always felt paranoid about the risk of showing those vulnerable parts of her body, despite the fact she was also permanently wearing bright sweatbands. It was his abuse that had led to those scars on her wrists; and they made her burn with shame every time she had to look at them when showering. She’d even had to give up her passion for swimming; something she'd actually been good at before itStill, she thought with a sigh as she headed to registration, reluctance weighing down her heart. It’s time to move on. He can’t hurt me now. happened.
*
The bell signalling the end of fourth period normally evoked Tabby’s heart to give a leap: lunchtime usually meant a delicious freedom from the musty old classrooms and droning lessons. But not today. She’d just had History, as it happened - so remained solemnly in her seat at the back as the other pupils made their glorious escape, firing jeering looks at her as they left. Her empty stomach growled angrily and she punched it under the desk; it would be receiving no food until much later, so its hungered protesting was useless. After a few minutes, a couple of other students drifted in. One, Tabby didn’t recognise; he swaggered through the doorway, grinning behind at his catcalling mates in the corridor outside before slouching into a seat nearby. But the appearance of another made her bow her head quickly to the desk. Dean was dark as ever as he shuffled in, eyes sweeping the room accusingly before seating himself as far away from Tabby as possible. She looked up and glared at the back of his head. Why does he have to keep turning up at the same place and time as me? As Mrs Sheady’s monotonous voice began to drawl, she could have sworn a shiver of electricity passed through the air between them. “I hope you all know why you’re here,” Tabby rolled her eyes, hoping her primly-accented teacher wouldn’t see her expression as she mentally throttled Chelsea. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn to be sorry the hard way.” She turned and began to write a sentence on the blackboard; the shrill, scraping chalk making Tabby’s teeth grate together. When she stepped away, the words ‘I will obey all school rules’ blared out across the room. “Write this out continuously until the end of lunchtime,” she announced, a slight sadistic smile playing about her pursed lips as she sailed out of the door. Such an original punishment, you imaginative old bag, Tabby thought with an ironic smirk as she reluctantly picked up her pen and began to scrawl the phrase across the piece of paper she’d been given, paying little attention to the formation or legibility of her letters. Who cared? She certainly didn’t; although the thought of spending another lunch hour this way was enough to make her at least partially obedient. It wasn’t long before her hand grew tired; the sound of scratching pen-nibs had ceased to emit from the two other desks a while ago, so she put hers down, too. She’d written a whole side; that was likely to be enough to satisfy Mrs Sheady, especially as it was probably a whole side more than the boys had written. The first was fiddling absentmindedly with his mobile phone; she couldn’t see what Dean was doing from her angle behind him, but she was sure it was something cruel. Probably pulling the legs one-by-one off a poor, tortured bug… The ticking clock above the board irritated her; it made a tinny sound with each long second that passed, the noise oddly loud now that her brain had tuned in to its language. They both sat still in their respective positions, each face staring blankly at the other, counting the minutes together. And that’s when a glint of green caught her eye. The unfamiliar, spiky handwriting stood out against the dark wood of her desk, casting its emerald glow over her face as she leaned forward to read it. Having fun, little Tabby? It could only be Dean. His body language gave no indication that he’d written those angular letters, but the others were at lunch…besides, I swear he’s called me ‘little Tabby’ before. The endearment sounded sarcastic and sick as his voice spoke it from some forgotten memory; but despite this, she decided to hold her temper back and scribe something more indifferent as a reply. Checking the other boy was suitably entertained by images on his phone, she delved into her pocket; and upon retrieving the EctoSketcher, etched back: Ha ha. Thought not. His reply came surprisingly fast, and a strange feeling began to rise from the pit of Tabby’s stomach. This was almost like having a normal conversation, with a normal person; true, the method was slightly unheard of…but was Dean being nice? She dared to look towards him, and suddenly found his gaze upon her. For a split second, time froze. Something like static crackled in her ears and at the edges of her vision as she realised the corners of his sullen lips were the wrong way up - is he smiling? Any confirmation, however, was instantly shot out of the air by a deafening ringing; the fire bell had been set off. Startled, the three misbehavers were shocked from their seats and hurriedly snatched up their bags, heading for the door. Glancing behind her to check she hadn’t left anything, Tabby stopped. The first boy had already gone, but she could sense Dean behind her as her eyes became transfixed with horror. They stood together, seconds of safety wasting away before he grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her out of the door; a fleeting moment of eye-contact plainly telling her that he had seen it, too. Huge, fluorescing letters causing every desk lid in the room to ominously proclaim a single, dreaded word - burning itself thirty times over into their terrified eyelids. Malum.
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