A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

A Redhead Ruins My Day

I don't know how it got here. It just appeared on my desk one day.

Naturally, I call my friends.

Vanessa is the first to show up. Typical. Her parents never knew whether she's at home or across the world. Her blue eyes narrowed when she looked at me, which I was used to; I never looked quite right to her. 

Kim and Asheley were next. Also typical. Their silky brown hair and dark gray eyes made people think they were sisters, though they weren't. Kim had lighter skin, and Ashely had dark brown freckles under her eyes, the only two things you could use to tell them apart.

Last to arrive was Austin. Very typical. If the world was ending, he'd arrive last for it. He was the muscle of the group, with an ego to match. He flopped onto my bed like he owned it, and stared at the ceiling.

"Spill, C. Why are we here?" Austin always calls us by the first letter of our names. The girls stare at me, which makes another girl come to my mind. I shake my head to clear it, and move to my desk to get the photo album.

It was an old thing, made of leather and plastic. The cover, black with age, was work and wrinkled. The tiny slip where a picture was supposed to go was filled with one picture. The picture of a laughing girl.

Images, memories, rush into my mind like a flood. A small laugh, a hateful glare, a ripped book, a hug goodbye. Her green eyes, sparkling with emerald bolts of anger and blue sparks of happiness. Tangled brown hair tickling my nose as the last hug I would ever get from her nearly crushes my ribs. I hardly see my friends, who were crowding around me to get a better look at the picture. "Ally." The name slips from my lips like water, a whisper barely picked up by my own ears.

Austin takes the album from my frozen fingers, not noticing my shock and pain. He turns the plastic pages, frowning. "These pages are blank." Asheley's voice shocks me from my stupor, and I blink at my friends.

"Yeah. And who's the girl on the cover? She's kinda hot," Austin said, flipping back to the cover. "You idiot," Vanessa hissed. "That's All. She's-was- Carter's, um, friend. From sixth grade." I knew that my oldest friend was going to say something other than friend, but she didn't. The others look at me with pity, as if they know exactly what word Vanessa didn’t say. Vanessa pats my shoulder, for Ally had practically been her sister.

I take the album back from Austin, and feel an electric shock pulse through my fingers. On impulse, I open the book, and find a photo that was previously not there.

A girl, Ally, staring at a mirror with hate in her eyes. But she held no camera. It was as if she took the picture with her eyes. And, reflected in the doorway, was a figure drenched in black clothing. A chain, silver and gold, is wrapped around the figure’s dark, shapeless hand.

The others crowd around me, all ogling at the new picture. Vanessa gasps, and grabs my shoulder, pointing to something on the corner of the mirror: a note, written in red pen like blood. The words are too small and blurry to make out, but I know exactly what they said.

The white wolf hounds my dreams, as does the winged emerald. I must burn these bridges and disappear. Lily will be glad for the help, as her death was unrighteous, as mine will be.

The words play in my mind, voiced in the priest’s crackly, crumbled paper voice. Everyone thought that Ally had commited suicide, but this picture told another tale.

“She was kidnapped.” Vanessa’s hard, angry words brought me back. The others nod, but I have nothing to say. Just then, a knock sounds on my door.

“Carter, a girl’s here to meet you. She’s new.” My father’s low voice was tinged with curiosity, which annoys me, because I know that he was drunk anyways. With a thump, I slam the album shut, causing my friends to jump. I storm over to the door, and yank it open.

Light brown eyes the color of a mink stare into mine. White rings the pupils, which have a strange blue tint. The eyes blink, and I swear I see them flash green for a second.

I back up half a step to get a good look at the girl. Pale skin dotted with light brown freckles. A heavy dose of them seemed to ring her eyes like a raccoon's mask. Copper hair hangs down to the middle of her back, and that was when it was tightly braided, with colorful pins of dragons and birds holding strands together. Long curls of gold and bronze hang over her eyes.

She holds out her hand to me like a business woman, and I catch the glint of silver and blue on her hand. “Atalanta Sea, at your service.” I shake her hand, but don’t let go. “Nice ring. I gave a friend of mine a ring like that once.” Atalanta pulls her hand from mine, and folds her arms to hide the circlet of silver.

“I believe there are others in your room that would like to meet me.” Her suddenly frigid voice leaves me frozen, and as she pushes past me, the pins in her hair scrape against my skin. I hear a gasp from Austin as he beholds the pretty girl.

I turn back towards my room, closing the door behind me. The three girls are standing around Atalanta, asking her questions. The album feels warm against my arm, but I resist the urge to open it.

Austin has his mouth open, and I could see a drop of drool on his lips. My eyes find the ceiling, and Kim’s voice calls my gaze back to the group.

“Show her the album, Carter.” I lock eyes with her as disbelief sweeps through me. Atalanta looks at me, and it was as if she could read my mind. Fast as a viper, she yanks the album from under my arm and opens it. A small yelp escapes my mouth as the heat from the book leaves my skin.

Atalanta’s eyes narrow as she takes in the first picture. Then, she flips the page, and her eyes seem to glow with some fury. I take the album back, and her eyes lose their anger as quickly as they took it.

I look at the photo, and my blood turns to ice.

A truck, strangely familiar. Old, rusted, red. When Asheley sees the truck, she yelps and jumps back, as if electrocuted. I see Atalanta’s eyes trained on the girl, watching her every move.

The utter horror on my friend’s face chills my blood. She looks up at all of us, and her gray eyes show pure pain and fear. “That’s my brother’s truck.” Her voice is small, whispery. “My brother kidnapped Ally six years ago.”