Broken Marilyns

CIRCLES

CIRCLES

Monday morning at the office couldn't come soon enough.  I needed to connect the dots...if there were any to connect.  I'd just started up my computer when Bree popped her head over the cubicle wall.  "Did you hear the latest on Julia Eisner?" Bree asked, wide-eyed.

"No, what?"  There were perks to being friends with the girl who did layouts, she knew all the stories and saw all the photos.

"Come, look," she waved me over and disappeared behind the wall.

A picture of an arm occupied Bree's computer screen, and an odd-shaped bruise purpled the skin of her wrist.  It was a new bruise, not like the ones I saw on her the day we met which looked to be healed but it mimicked them somehow.  "They think she was murdered," Bree interrupted my thoughts.

"Julia?"

"Yup."

Bradley sent me a quick text to let me know he was working late so I decided to make a trip home for some much needed alone time.  Opening the door to my house felt surreal because though it was technically mine, I'd had to abandon it.  It didn't feel like mine and probably never would.

I sat down at my mother's vanity that I'd turned into a makeshift desk and slid through the girls in my phone, remembering the list of girls Maddie texted me.  There were still two girls I wasn’t able to find.  Pulling up the profiles of the two girls on my computer, I flipped from picture to picture on my phone – none of the faces in the basement were a match.

  Bree let me take a picture of the photo she showed me since the paper wasn't coming out until Wednesday.  That mark - why was it so familiar?  I scrolled to the marks on Julia’s arm I’d taken while she was sleeping in my car, those marks and the ones Bree showed me were almost identical, except the ones I saw today were more complete.  Sitting up from the hunch I'd sunk into, I straightened my back and rubbed my neck.  A small picture of Charlie stole my attention - the silver frame gleaming in the sun.

The day had gone by with no questions answered and more added.  Packing up my laptop and a few articles of clothing, I set out for Bradley's.  A disc awaited me on the welcome mat outside my door.  Picking it up to inspect it, the words “watch me” were scribbled on it with red marker.  This felt too much like the lipstick incident.  I ran to my car, checked to make sure no one was inside and sped to Bradley's.

I dialed Jack, on my way to Bradley's.  It had been a month since we’d last spoken.  "Hello?" Jack picked up.

"Jack, this is Jenna Pierce."

"Jenna, hi, um…just a second," the sound got muffled a bit but I could make out a weary female voice in the background, "Jenna, sorry about that, what's up?"

"Jack, I don't know for sure, but I think Simon left a DVD on my doorstep."

"Your doorstep or Bradley's?"  The question caught me off guard.  "Bradley told me you were staying with him."  Boys and their locker room banter.

"My house, I went there to pick up some things."  I'd pulled into Bradley's driveway, and was walking into the house.  Bradley stood in the kitchen and approached but I held a finger up. 

"Have you watched it yet?"

"No, not yet.  I'm just really freaked out.”  Bradley cast a questionable look my way and grabbed the DVD out of my hand.  Cops.

"No, I'm glad you called.  Watch it and call me back, okay?"

"Okay, thanks Jack."  If I didn't know any better, I'd say Bradley rolled his eyes at the mention of Jack’s name but wasn't certain.  I lunged forward and snatched the disc back.