The Night

Chapter Three

        The next day was a Friday:just one more day until the weekend, not that it would make much of a difference.  Anyway, I overslept because I forgot to set my alarm….so literally ten minutes before the bus would come, I woke up, far more fatigued than usual. “Just get through today,” I told myself.  I was still wearing the same jeans from last night and I quickly changed into a navy blue tee-shirt, ran a brush through my long red brown hair, grabbed my backpack satchel, and ran out the door before my mom could begin to yell at me.  The bus pulled up, I gingerly trudged up the steps, and ventured to find an empty seat in the back.  Everyone was either chattering to each other, doing something with their phones, playing a video game, or something else.  I sat alone in the very back seat, put ear-buds in, turned on my music, and drew my sketchpad from my satchel.  I flipped through the numerous pages I had already filled with landscapes, animals, portraits, and fairies (I chuckled to myself at this.) I always loved fairies, so I guess a small part of me always knew that they were real.  I pulled out a pencil from my zippered pencil case and proceeded to sketch the fairy pond from last night.

            “Watcha doin’?” It was Manny, who had twisted around to face me from the seat in front of me.  I covered my book protectively.

            “How are you today, Manny?” I asked, changing the subject.

            “Not ready for History, that’s for sure.  You?”

            “Not one bit.” Mrs. Jevel was the most boring teacher ever; she droned on and on every day.

            “Hey, wanna read my latest story?” He asked. 

            “Sure.”

            He handed me a composition notebook, opened to a specific page: The door slammed shut behind her though she knew she was alone. And she heard someone whisper her name into her multi-pierced ear “Eva….Eva….” She jumped and turned around but no one was there…..

            Manny always wrote horror stories.  He was a decent writer, though he had his flaws just as I wasn’t the best artist.

             The school bus screeched to a halt, for we had arrived.  All of the students clamored out into the halls of the school.

            After failing my history test, I got home that afternoon to an empty house.  I wasn’t sure where my mom was but I knew I’d have to clean and make dinner, or else she’d be furious.  I scanned the cabinets for food-there really wasn’t much-until I found two boxes of yummy macaroni and cheese.  I put a pot of water on the stove to boil, and then I started cleaning up the mess mom had left.   Hopefully there wasn’t a pile of puke sitting around somewhere.  It was difficult living like this.  But what I had to hope for was to see Victor again tonight.  I smiled.  Just nights before this, I never thought things like the supernatural were real, such as a boy who took the sun down and arranged the constellations in the sky every night.   

            Shortly after the food was ready, mom came home.  My mother was beautiful, though she wasn’t as young as she used to be.  She was blonde and thin but she wore too much makeup to match her flirtatious, fake personality.  She went straight to the worn-out sofa and popped open a beer.  “Cryssie, hon, did you make any dinner for me?” She looked at me hopefully.  It was terrifying, for one moment she could be in a calm, collected mood, but the next…I shuddered, trying not to be reminded of what her smacks felt like. Years of alcohol and depression and heartbreak messed her up.  I pitied her, and that’s why I never ran away or anything.  I was all she had.

            I brought her a plate of mac-n-cheese.  “Thanks, sweetheart,” she smiled.  I returned the expression.  I was glad that she seemed to be in a better mood tonight.

            Around midnight after mom fell asleep I snuck out to that abandoned park to see Victor.  This time, I brought my satchel with a snack, my sketchbook, and of course my flashlight.

            It wasn’t as if he were in the same place every night; I had to search for him a little bit before I found him.  After about a half an hour I discovered him casting shadows with his hands while he sat on one of the park benches.

            “Victor!” I whispered loudly.  He turned around to look at me; his eyes glowed like an animal’s at night.

            “Good evening, Crystalina,” he greeted me solemnly.

            Tired of walking, I sank down on the bench beside him.  “May I ask you something?” He inquired.

            My stomach curdled.  That was one of my least favorite questions to be asked. “Yes?”

            “Do your parents mind that you are out like this all of the time?”

            Oh. I chuckled. “No,” I shook my head. “For one thing, I don’t have a dad.  He left when I was four.”

            “Sorry,” he whispered.

            “It’s fine. And my mom…well she isn’t very protective of me.  She drinks a lot and she doesn’t have a real job, she just kind of bumps around working on and off for different places but they never last very long.  I don’t always know where she is or when she’s coming home, and sometimes she brings home random guys.  Sorry I’m rambling,” I nervously laughed.  I never had anyone to vent to.  I just felt as though I could tell him anything; I trusted him.  I trusted and hoped that he wouldn’t break me, as others had.

            I realized that I had been lost in my own reverie for who knows how long.

            “Even though I can’t relate in the same way; I can somewhat.  I’ve lost my family, as I’ve told you.  I’m truly sorry for your troubles.  I wish I could help.”

            “But you are! You’re listening and you’re not belittling me.  You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

            He smiled. “I take it you’re an only child?”

            I nodded. “Thankfully, for their sake, I am.  What about you?”

            “I had three older brothers and a little sister.  I miss them every day.” He pulled a black and white photograph out of his pocket.  It was an image of seven people, Victor’s family.  There was a bearded man who slightly resembled Victor and next to him stood a middle aged lady who looked like someone with a kind heart.   There were three older copies of Victor, then Victor himself.  He looked happier, younger, and his hair looked far lighter than it did now.  “I used to be blonde, believe it or not,” he chuckled.

            He pointed out his family to me, and pointed to a gorgeous girl who appeared to be a couple of years younger than he. “That is my sister Meredith,” he said.

            “She’s lovely.”

            “Just like my mother.”

            He carefully put the picture back into his pocket.  “I loved my family very much, and I always kept this photograph with me in case something were to ever happen to them.  I didn’t know something was going to happen to me; I never expected it, honestly.”

            I knew that he was talking about his curse.  I wanted to ask him about it but I was still too afraid to.  He might get offended or mad at me.  He’d refuse to tell me because he didn’t trust me, or he didn’t take me seriously because I was just a child compared to him; or most importantly because I didn’t want to know the answer.  He might have done something horrifying to be cursed like this, or maybe he was completely innocent.  Whatever the reason was, I needed to know.  My heart thumped against its cage and my stomach went on a roller coaster; I almost felt as if I were asking my mother for a favor.

            Taking a deep breath, I asked him.  “Victor, if you don’t mind my asking, why were you cursed?”