The Patron Saint of Monsters

Chapter Eight Part Four

“Do you remember the friend we had before Trina?” Valerie whispered to Oleander. They were speaking on the phone with one another, Oleander was laying in bed puffing away on a cigarette while Trent lay on the floor bouncing a tiny rubber ball against the wall. Oleander was still a little tipsy.

“Why are we whispering?” Oleander whispered back fighting back giggles.

“Just answer my question.” Valerie asked.

“Of course I remember Cynthia, she was mean.” Oleander replied with an eye roll.

The blonde haired little girl that they had spent time with as children was a terror. She had stomped around the playground and was never too shy to shove Oleander into the dirt. Rebecca and Cynthia had been the best of buds, as were Valerie and Oleander. If their mothers had not been in the same group of mothers who drank and gossipped while neglecting their children, they probably would have never become friends. Oleander had hated Cynthia.

“I saw her mother this afternoon. It was heartbreaking. Do you remember when she went missing?” Valerie said.

“I remember because everyone was worried that one of us would be next. I never missed Cynthia though. She was a cunt.” Oleander replied.

“Oleander! We were eight, eight year olds can’t be cunts.” Valerie chastised.

“Well dear old deceased Cynthia was certainly the closest thing to a cunt that an eight year old could be. She was always pulling my hair. I hated that girl, I hated Rebecca too. I think I still hate Bex but I’m too busy being scared for her to tell.” Oleander mused.

“I hated Cynth too.” Valerie confessed, “They never found a body, her mom still thinks she might be alive.”

“I hope she isn’t. Whoever snatched that kid did the world a public service.” Oleander snorted with Valerie gasped.

“Ole! You can’t say things like that. Are you drunk?”

“Yes maybe.”

“Call me when you wake up tomorrow.” Valerie sighed.

“I hated her too.” Trent said more to himself than to her.

“Cynthia?” Oleander asked, flipping over onto her stomach with a flop, dangling her head off of the bed to look at him.

“Mhm.” He nodded.

“Of course you did. You hate everybody.” She laughed.

“Not true.” He smiled.

“Make a list of everyone you don’t hate.” She urged him,

“You.” He answered.

“That isn’t a list! A list is like one hundred or more.” Oleander insisted.

“Can you tell me one hundred people you don’t hate?” Trent asked with an arch eyebrow.

“Do you count as a hundred?”

He smiled, he was tempted to ask about Ian but he did not want to ruin the moment.

“Are you seriously glad that girl disappeared?” Trent questioned.

“Yeah. I was totally relieved that she was gone.” Oleander said with a shrug.

“What if I was the one who killed her?” Trent asked.

Oleander laughed as if he was telling some dark joke and she answered with, “I’d thank you for always looking out for me.”

Trent nodded firmly as he stood. He removed his distressed jeans and his shirt, crawling into Oleander’s bed wearing nothing but boxers.

“I’d always do anything for you.” Trent told her.

“Would you really do anything for me?” Oleander whispered when she woke up the next morning.

“Of course.” He replied placing a soft kiss at her temple.

“Even bad things?” She asked quietly.

Trent nodded with his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling “Yes.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done for me?” She asked with a smile. She knew that it was wrong to be so excited at the thought of someone doing bad things for her sake but she could not help it.

Trent hesitated, unsure how to answer. There were things that he had done for her sake that he knew she would be unable to handle the knowledge of. He did not want to lie to Oleander, if she were to find out that he betrayed her trust then he would probably never earn it again. He ran his hand lightly up her side while he calculated his options.

“I once tripped Trina down a flight of stairs at school for calling you a bitch.” Trent said insincerely sheepish.

Oleander did not notice his insincerity she just giggled lightly and told him that she remembered that day. “Freshman year right?”

“Right.” he chuckled.

“I love that you’re so overprotective. It makes me feel safe.” Oleander confessed.

“I’m glad you like it, I’d do anything for you but I am not sure that I could be less protective.” Oleander could feel Trent’s smile grow against her skin.

“Wanna know something sick?” She asked with a laugh.

“Always.” He assured her.

“I love that movie Fear, with Markie Mark and Reese Witherspoon.” She started.

“I know you do, you’ve watched it a lot.” He cut in.

“Yeah but like, that scene where he attacks her friend just because he spoke to her? I think that is so hot. I’m so into that.” He shared.

“Crazy guys?” He asked.

“No!” she laughed, “Just guys who aren’t afraid to get their hands a little bloody for my honor. Ian isn’t like that. Ian is nice and sweet, kind and charming in an awkwardly endearing way. Television has thoroughly warped my ideas of love and I don’t even care.” She sighed.

Oleander’s head was beginning to ache in the front. She scrunched her face in pain and Trent rolled over towards her nightstand, fiddling through the top drawer to hand her two tiny light blue pills. “You’re probably hungover.” He said.

She swallowed the pills dry and shook her head, “I don’t get hangovers. It’s probably just stress.”

“Why are you stressed?” Trent asked with a displeased expression.

“I don’t know Trent let me think about it?” She snarked, “Perhaps it’s because Rebecca is fucking batshit crazy. Or maybe it’s Ian. Maybe it’s every goddamn thing that’s been happening. I thought your senior year was supposed to be the best.”

“My senior year sucked too.” He said with a smirk.

“I bet it did.” She responded with a smirk, “Is it weird to think about it?” She asked.

“No, What is done is done.” He answered darkly.

Sometimes Trent’s demeanor left Oleander feeling odd, she could not explain it. She believed that Trent would never harm her but he still almost frightened her. She stood up from the bed and walked towards the bathroom to shower, when she placed her foot against the cold porcelain floor she realized how she felt. She was scared for everyone else around them. She turned the water on too hot, hoping to burn and wash away the negative thoughts and feelings.

“Trent is not going to hurt anybody.” She whispered to herself as a mantra.