Clandestine

twenty

-julia-

Carlotta and I stare at the screen, long after the video ends. It's just the black screen, but we stare at it like it might reveal that this is all one big joke. It's graphic design and photoshop and green screens and all those other technical things that twist reality.

My mother didn't actually kill him. She couldn't have. My mother is a lot of things, but she isn't a murderer. I couldn't be related to a murderer.

My mother's voice slips into my head, "Like mother, like daughter."

Carlotta says, "We need to get out of here. Doesn't your mother come back at one o'clock."

It's already twelve forty-five. How long were we staring at that screen?

I hurriedly close out of everything on her computer and shut it off. I stare at her desk, trying to figure out if anything is out of place.

I can't remember the way anything looked before we came in here.

Carlotta whispers, "Leave it, just leave it, Julia. We need to get out of here."

I nod and push her out of the room. I close the door closely behind us and hear the lock click.

We were never there. We never saw anything. My mother is not a murderer.

How many times do I have to tell myself that so that I believe it?

I say to Carlotta, "You can't tell anyone what you saw. Not the police. Not the government. No one."

Carlotta nods. She understands, in a twisted way. Her family is rich enough. She knows about skeletons and buried secrets, hidden from the press. Carlotta says, "We can't trust the police anyway. Those people that helped your mom kill that man? They were the police. The people who are supposed to be enforcing justice are the people causing the injustice. If we can't trust the police, who do we trust? Are we safe?"

I shush Carlotta, "We don't know that my mother killed that man."

She raises an eyebrow. "I think it's pretty clear that your mother killed that man. I'm sorry, Julia, but you can't deny it."

"Maybe he was unconscious? Maybe it was just special effects. I don't know."

"Listen to yourself. Did you watch the video? From the amount of blood on the walls, I think we can safely assume that he is dead. And that isn't any special effects. I've watched enough bloody action movies when I was with Kent. That is real."

"But...my mom isn't a murderer, is she? How can she be a murderer? She...she belongs in jail, Carlotta."

Carlotta presses her lips together, "I think we need to go back to your room before your mother gets home. I don't know what I would do if I saw her and I doubt whatever you would do would be good. We just need to wait this out. We need to think this through. Nothing rash, you understand?"

"Nothing rash? There's a murderer in my house. We need to protect ourselves. What if she tries to kill me?"

"She's not going to kill you. You are her daughter. She killed that man because he was an enemy. Maybe he did commit a crime that was punishable by death. We don't know."

"Even if he was supposed to be executed, it's not my mother's place to execute him. That would be a police officer or a...a..."

Carlotta puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me up the staircase. She leads me back to my room when Rosalina still shouts into her phone.

When she sees us, her mouth slips open and she hangs up on whomever she's speaking with.

"What's wrong? You both are as pale as...as...you're really pale."

Carlotta glances at me and then says, "We just saw a video that was a little...scary."

Rosalina narrows her eyes, as if she can't figure out how serious this situation is. "Was it another one of those ghosts stories? I've told Julia many times not to watch those, because whenever she does, she always looks like she's about to pee her pants. But Carlotta, you are much to pale to have just watched a scary movie. Both of you need to spill."

Carlotta glances at me and I nod. We can't keep this a secret from Rosalina.

Carlotta says, "We just saw a video and Julia's mom's computer. It was of a prisoner and Julia's mom...she shot him."

Rosalina mouth slips open, "You guys are kidding, right? This is a joke. You think I am all stressed out about my fashion show tomorrow so you thought you would scare the stress from me with a good practical joke."

I lay my head in my hands, "I wish it was a practical joke."

Rosalina sits down and stares at her hands.

A door slams downstairs. My mother has returned.

Why wouldn't she just tell me that he is dead? Why tell the story of him escaping and hunting us down as revenge?

My mother calls out, "Julia, just letting you know that I am home."

I force my voice to be strong, so that my mother can't hear the paralyzing fear in my voice, "Okay, mom."

Will I have to spend the rest of my life pretending like I don't know that my mother is a murderer?