The Patron Saint of Monsters

Chapter Two Part One

Oleander was often tempted to introduce herself to strangers under a different moniker, she did not like who she was and thought that maybe a change as significant as the change of a name could make her different. She applied to various universities in towns like Portland Oregon as well, she wanted a change of something. Change of appellation, scenery, or possibly just a change of friends. She loved her friends, they did not really understand  but they had not really tried to either, she was perfectly content in the solitary company of books, the words understood her. Her friends preferred to booze it up with their peers and make out with dangerous strangers; Oleander could not see herself truly enjoying the company of anybody, let alone making out or hooking up with somebody. That's what she thought about when she awoke from her fainting spell before she lifted her eyelids; but when she sat up and saw her newly cleaned room with the blood splattered and wax stained Ouija board hidden from sight she was thankful that they had not abandoned her. She was glad to have people around that could possibly begin to understand her predicament.

"Oh God, you're awake. Good." Said a worried sounding Valerie who rushed to Oleander's side placing the back of her hand on her friend's forehead.

Oleander looked over at Rebecca who was gazing out of her window and blowing the smoke from the cigarette she was smoking, a cigarette that she had swiped from Oleander, Rebecca did not even attempt to hide the shaking of her hands. Trina was sitting on Oleander's bed, picking threads from the comforter it was covered in, the haphazard patterns resembled crop circles, when Trina noticed that she began to shake her head. They were all frightened and confused, Valerie just preferred to take on a matronly role in times when she felt scared, it made her feel as if she had regained control.

After another puff and a flick, Rebecca extinguished the cigarette's cherry on the sill, she moved to toss the butt out of the window but hesitated. She knew that her friend's nicotine habit was currently kept secret from her family, mysterious cigarette remains littering the backyard would arouse suspicion, should they be noticed. Rebecca looked around the table closest to the window for an ashtray, designated or makeshift. She settled on Oleander's midtown glass full of newspaper word cutouts.

Oleander watched her do this and said nothing, she just rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw. Oleander liked to create poetry, but not write it. She used the words printed in the local courier and strung them together with glue onto cardstock. With titles comprised from cutout magazine letters, they always vaguely resembled ransom notes. Oleander knew that her collection of words she had yet to use would most likely be fine, she just felt better concentrating on mild irritations instead of fretting over the monster that was "not under" her bed.