Chapter Thirteen
I open the front door of my new home, not that I really want to call it home. I have no plans of getting comfortable. All I want to do is get the hell out of here. All the lights are switched off for whatever reason. They’re probably trying to save electricity. That would be the most practical explanation.
I’m just about to make my way up the stairs, but I suddenly feel someone’s hand around my neck.
The person whispers in my ear, “Make a peep and I’ll slit your throat.”
It didn’t take me very long to figure out who it is. I know the voice. It’s so annoying and distinct it’s hard not to know.
She comes in front of me to reveal herself, even though I already picked up on the voice. Her sidekick also came in front of me. I must admit she hides herself well because I don’t know where she came from. On the other hand, she is stick thin so can be easily missed.
They both set out to intimidate me but I wasn’t intimidated by them somehow. It’s like watching an episode of Tom and Jerry, or Rugrats. My point is they both look like they’ve walked out of a cartoon and you can’t take them seriously no matter how hard you try. On the contrary, I’m outnumbered, so whether or not they look like cartoon characters I have to play it cool, because I’m not exactly a fighter.
They both started to walk around me in circles. They also watch too many American movies. They are supposed to be the bullies in the pen. Angelica and Rebecca – Angelica being the obese-looking one and who has the cheek to be a bully, and Rebecca being the total opposite. She could hide behind a pole if she really wants to.
Angelica says she should bash my face in because I didn’t come and introduce myself to the boss. Rebecca then said, “Yeah.”
They’re both still walking around me. Whatever they’re trying to do is actually quite pointless, and I’m pretty sure they must feel dizzy, or if not, I feel dizzy for them.
I pick up on the pattern pretty quick. Rebecca is like a parrot and repeats back everything Angelica says.
Angelica tells me that I don’t want none, not that I remember asking for anything.
Rebecca then says, “None.” Angelica shouts, telling me she’s the boss of this place and surprise, surprise, Rebecca says, “Boss of this place.”
Come to think of it, I might have insulted Tom and Jerry. They’re more like Dumber and Dumbest but I’m not sure who gets what title.
Angelica says to make up for not introducing myself to her, I have to do their washing for a week.
As dumb as they look and sound, I have no choice but to abide by what they say because the reality is, I’m outnumbered.
I didn’t respond to her, which made her let out even more frustration, so I mumbled “Yes”.
The big bad wolf still isn’t satisfied with my answer as she claims she can’t hear me, so I shouted loud enough to wake the dead.
Apparently I am too loud and she’s not deaf, so therefore I should get a ‘bash in’.
I can’t help but not take them seriously because they keep making empty promises. Don’t get me wrong – I like their empty promises because at least then I won’t get a ‘bash in’.
Angelica tells me to get out of her sight because I make her feel sick, and she will come for me when she’s ready.
The bloody cheek of her – I make her sick. I don’t even think she can even begin to imagine how they make me feel. They make me feel even worse than how I feel when I hear my mum making sexual noises. That feeling makes me feel beyond sick.
I went straight upstairs after I have been released. I just want to go in my bed and cry. That’s the only thing that makes me feel better. I rush into my room as if there is a surprise in there waiting for me. I just like my own space when I’m feeling low. It’s not the big bad wolves that make me want to cry, but my life in general. My life is such a mess. What did I do to be born in this life that I live?
I took out of the drawer my diary that I bought a while back but never used. I feel to use it now; apparently writing is a good way to calm you down.
I lie on my bed and put pen to paper to write how I feel. Thirty minutes later, I surprised myself with what I came up with.
I wrote:
I put my diary on the bedside table next to my bed. I grab hold of Smuggles and cuddle him like we’re never going to see each other again. My head starts to feel like a ticking time bomb. Once my head hits the pillow, that’s it – my thinking cap is on. I wish I could just permanently switch it off, then that way, I could just block out all the horror stories in my life.
This is like déjà vu. Every night without fail I lie down and I think about the same thing in the same order. I start to think about David, the drug house, Lee-Roy, my pregnancy, my mum, Tyshyra, Mandy, the care home, the creatures in the care home. I’m going to explode any minute now.
How much can one child take? I didn’t do anything for my life to turn out like this. Karma is a bitch. What makes it worst is when karma comes for you when it’s your mum or grandparent or someone along the line that did wrong. My life is far from fair.
I was about to start going even deeper in my thoughts but I’m saved by the knock. Whoever it is knocks as if they are the police. In this place nothing is impossible, I suppose.
I jumped out of the bed to open the door, and it’s no surprise at all – Dumber and Dumbest. They both gave me their full baskets of dirty clothes to wash. I wish I wasn’t such a wimp and stand up for myself and say no when they told me to wash their clothes. The smell alone that came from the basket. Imagine when I start to take the clothes out. I wouldn’t even give their clothes to charity: I’m insulting the charities. I wouldn’t even give their clothes to the bin. Their clothes look and smell like they need to be burnt instantly.
They barged in my room, ordering me to go and wash their clothes now. And they need them to be washed by tonight. I know for sure they didn’t need them by tonight but they just get a kick out of ordering people around. Tiredness started to get the better of me and I’m really not in the mood to do anybody’s dirty washing.
Angelica tells me to get cracking and Rebecca repeats after Angelica. She is getting quite boring now. She needs to find a hobby, so then that way she won’t have so much time on her hands to repeat everything Angelica says.
I mumbled yes reluctantly but that’s never good enough for Starsky and Hutch. I then shouted yes and that still didn’t seem to satisfy them. They left the room, threatening me, saying they would do me in if they don’t get it back by tonight. My life has really has no meaning as of today. I am in a children’s home doing somebody else’s laundry. Just shoot me. Why don’t you?
They left me and their clothes in the room and went about their business. I carry the baskets of clothes in the laundry room one by one to get started.
I’m doing the laundry but my mind is nowhere near here. The more I think about my life, the more I feel suicidal. I use a plastic bag as a glove to pick up the clothes out of their baskets. I feel extremely sick from every item I pick up. Washing them would do no good, even if they get washed four consecutive times. The knickers have skid marks, armpits are stained, jeans are ripped and stained. Looking at their clothes makes my body shiver. Doing their laundry makes my skin crawl.
The most evil thoughts are running up and down in my mind. I hardly ever have evil thoughts, so when I do, you know that something is definitely wrong. The more I start to think, the angrier I get. I feel my blood boiling. It feels like I’m going to explode. Everything suddenly starts to look blurry and dark. The floor is shaking, and it feels like there’s an earthquake. I can only assume it’s an earthquake as I’ve never experienced one. The floor starts to shake even more. I look around the laundry room to try and figure out if I’m dreaming, or drugged up I looked towards the counter. Suddenly, everything on it fell to the floor.
That definitely made my heart sink. Apart from the shaking, there is no strong wind to have made such a transfer. It’s like I moved the stuff with my mind or my eyes or something. I look on the other side of the counter, and the same thing happened. That just confirmed that I moved the stuff. Don’t ask me how, why, when or where, but I’m responsible for making the stuff drop on the floor.
The second time was my confirmation but I wish I didn’t have that confirmation because it is more than frightening.
I go over to the window to close it, and received a dirty cut in the palm of my left hand, all for trying to close the window. This place is a hazard.
I wish I wasn’t here. I wish I was somewhere else but here, I thought to myself. The earthquake started to come back again. My vision is getting blurred and my heart rate is increasing rapidly.
A strong swift of wind hits me. My vision starts to clear up slowly, and I’ve come to the sudden realization that I’m no longer in the laundry room.
I’m back in the park with the witch-looking lady. It feels colder than ever and I can barely see her, or anything to the matter, because of all the darkness. I don’t even have to think about what the scariest moment of my life is: this has won the scariest day of my life award. This is how I felt in the drug house, but times it by one million. I am surprised I’m still standing. I am confused, scared and possibly deluded. Everything around me seems to be moving. It looks like I’m in a whirlwind.
The witch starts to speak to me, which makes me feel even more frightened. She says, “My child, the power to change lives is in your hands. I have blessed you with three gifts. You have discovered two but you still need to know how to use them properly. Until you’ve discovered your third gift, then and only then will you be able to utilize your powers.”
The ground starts to shake again. I’m starting to feel dizzy. Everything around me is gone pitch black. Seconds after, when the darkness has turned into light, I am back in the laundry room.
I am absolutely gone with the fairies and have no clue what has just happened. About half an hour ago I was thinking how much I hate my life, and now I’m thinking, What the hell! I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, bad thing, all right thing. Right about now I’m not sure about anything.
I don’t know who to even talk to, without them thinking I need sectioning. I think I need sectioning so imagine what everybody else would think. I hold my head in my hands. I feel stuck. I don’t know where to go, where to turn, what to do. My life is just full of complications. To make matters worse, it’s complications that I don’t even understand.
The witch-looking lady’s voice keeps playing in my head. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. It’s either she’s crazy or I’m crazy. I’ve been doing well so far so I doubt I’m the crazy one. I start to sweat like a bottle of water has been thrown in my face.
I’m in the laundry room shaking my head, talking to myself, just trying to solve what just happened. “I can move stuff with my mind” keeps running through my head. I pinch myself to see if I would wake up but unfortunately I am already awake. I smile because that’s about the only thing I can do that makes sense.
I look in the washing machine to take out the laundry, and all the white clothes have turned pink.
This is exactly what I need in my life right now. Great! When taking out the clothes I take out a pair of red socks from the pile. Ask me when and how the socks reached in the clothes and I would be lying through my teeth. As much as I was thinking devious, spiteful thoughts, I wouldn’t dare carry out any of my thoughts, It wouldn’t exactly work in my favour.
I’m trying to think of an excuse to give Dumb and Dumber. They are not going to believe me anyway; they are going to be convinced that I was being a spiteful little bitch. To be honest, even if they thought I am sincere, chances are they will still retaliate.
I’m dreading to face them. I’m also dreading what the future holds for me after that palaver.
I sneak out the laundry room with the clothes and rush back into my room. It was pointless for me to even run because I’m going to have to face them eventually.
I’m in my room, walking around in circles, thinking of what to do with myself. I went on my bed and started to write in my diary. Maybe if I start to write it down it will make sense.
I wrote:
I closed the diary and place it back on the bedside table. I desperately want to tell Tyshyra and Mandy even though they’re not talking to me. It’s too much of a big deal to just keep between me and my diary; someone needs to know. On second thought, no one will ever believe me. To be fair, if it was vice versa and any of my friends tell me they have been given magical powers from a witch-looking lady, I would ask Google for the number for Maudsley mental hospital. I was even contemplating to ask Google for the number for myself.
Maybe it is a good thing that I’ve got magical powers? Maybe it’s not? Only God knows. I would use my powers to throw Dumb and Dumber out the window. And then make a car run over them. I think I like having powers. I can get used to this.
It’s still playing on my mind. How is this possible? Magic isn’t real. I feel like Harry Potter. I wonder how he felt, having powers.
I heard a knock at my door, which rudely interrupted my thoughts. It wasn’t the loud hard police knock though, so I’m guessing it’s not the big bad wolves. You can tell their knock differently from anybody else’s. Their knock says something. It says, “Open the door now, bitch. This is my room, not yours.” That’s what I get when I read between the lines, anyway.
I jumped out of my bed and practised this bad habit I have. I opened the door without asking who it was.
It was Elizabeth. Thank heavens for that – it could have been a much worse visit. She has her teddy in her hand, gripping it as tight as ever. I opened the door wider and stand to the side to invite her in. It’s a wonder Wendy and Irene didn’t tag along. They’re like each other’s tail. You don’t see one without the other two.
Elizabeth came in and invited herself to sit on my bed. I wonder about her sometimes. She always has a depressed look on her face. It’s like there’s still a problem in her life that has not been solved. That’s my theory anyway. She said she came to check up on me because she heard all that racket.
I started to hear my heart beat. I wonder if she knew what was going on. I wonder if she felt the earthquake?
I took a deep breath and replied back saying, “No, no, no, I’m fine.” I stuttered at every word and my legs couldn’t stop shaking. That doesn’t matter though because she doesn’t know me.
She kept asking me if I’m sure I’m all right, like she knows there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know what’s giving it away. It might be my facial expression, or possibly the stuttering. I think I’m just being paranoid. I stared at Elizabeth to see if I could figure out what’s wrong with her. I had some nerve. The time I was busy trying to figure out what’s wrong with Elizabeth, I should take that time and figure out what’s wrong with me.
She started speaking to me but I could tell she was filled with fear, for whatever reason. If she had just experienced what I just went through, she probably wouldn’t have lived to even tell the tale. She would have definitely died from fright.
She clutched her teddy tight and told me how much of a nice person I am. As sweet as I found it, I also felt that it was a bit random. I don’t know where that came from. I haven’t given her anything or done her any favours for her to be telling me how nice I am.
She then carried on and on saying how glad she is to have met me, I’m a beautiful person inside and out and I shouldn’t worry. The last part did freak me out. How did she know that I was worrying? What did she think I was worrying about?
There goes the loud sound of my heartbeat again. I didn’t know to react. I don’t know if I should smile and say thank you, or compliment her back so she can feel good.
After her boosting my ego to the fullest she hopped off my bed to leave my room. When she reached the door, she turned to tell me something but suddenly changed her mind. She said that she’ll tell me another time but it’s not that important anyway.
She left me thinking like crazy. It might not be important but the fact that she told me that she has something to say to me, and doesn’t tell me, leaves me wondering. I’m more curious than anything else. Some people call it nosey but I prefer the word inquisitive, not that it means anything different, but I like the way the word rolls off my tongue.
Elizabeth had my brain doing overtime. Thinking about it, I think I am really nosey. My brain is doing overtime on all the wrong things. She made me start to think different about her though. She is quite sweet and loving. All of a sudden I feel bad for what I wrote in my diary about her. I also feel bad for what I wrote for all of them, which I find quite weird. It’s true what they say: Don’t judge a book by its cover.
My door knocked again. This is worse than being at home. I get no peace and quiet around here. The knock was fairly gentle so I assume it wasn’t the wicked witches of the care home. I opened the door, forgetting to ask who it was, not that it would have made much difference anyway.
It was Wendy and Irene. I’m Miss Popular today, I thought to myself. Unlike Elizabeth, they were too impatient to wait for my invite; they just barged right in and dropped themselves down on my bed.
I’m pretty sure I heard something crack but I can’t be asked to make it an issue.
Irene said they came to check up on me because they haven’t seen me for the whole day. That’s quite nice in a weird kind of way. Why do they need to check up on me? I’m not a baby.
Wendy is walking around my room looking for something she must have lost, in my room. She see’s half a Snickers bar on the dresser and she eats it without asking. That’s not even the funny part – she thought I didn’t see her because she was trying to be discreet.
It doesn’t bother me but it wouldn’t have killed her to ask. After Wendy stuffed her face with my Snickers bar she started to ask me how my day was. That was the perfect opportunity for me to tell about the laundry and see if they’re going to advise me. So I used that opportunity and off I went. I told them that Angelica and Rebecca forced me to do their laundry, and I’ve turned their white clothes into pink by accident. I desperately wanted to tell them about my powers but I didn’t know where to start without sounding like a crackhead. I just told them about the laundry story. I thought they would have given me advice on what to do. If I have never been wrong about anything else in my life I’m sure as hell wrong about this. Talk about kick you when you’re down. Note to self: Never in a million years ask these two for advice, no matter how desperate I am.
Wendy advised me to kill myself before they kill me. Irene was then my only hope for reassurance but she just agreed with Wendy. To make things worse, they were advising me on ways on how to kill myself. I have been given advice to jump through the window, cut my wrist, overdose, and hanging.
The biggest worry of all was how they didn’t even hesitate to tell me all the ways to kill myself. It’s like they have been through it all. If I didn’t stop them in their tracks, guaranteed there would have been plenty more where that came from.
Ten minutes later, when I’m scared out of my wits, they said they were only joking. Funny enough, I didn’t even find them funny for a split second.
Once they finish taking the piss out of my life, they decided to be serious. They might as well have continued the joke because they were both sitting down saying “I don’t even know what to tell you”. Wendy then said, “It’s going to be peak for you.” I don’t even know what peak meant but I’m guessing it can’t be good.
Where’s Tyshyra and Mandy when I need them? I miss them so much. I know Tyshyra would be saying something silly like “That bitch don’t want none”. They might be everything else but I have not seen anyone, to date, bully them. They are perfectly capable to stand up for themselves and even you if you let them.
We all jumped to the sound of the knock at the door. It didn’t even sound like a knock. It sounded as if someone was trying to kick off the door.
I started to panic because I didn’t know what to tell them. Irene and Wendy also started to panic, which made me panic even more. I whispered to them “What?” and asked them what I should do.
Irene shouted she didn’t know. I didn’t think she meant to shout but when nerves get the better of you, you do all sorts of crazy things.
Wendy tried to fit under the bed but failed. If she had asked me I could have been able to tell her that she wasn’t going to fit, rather than her wasting her time trying. The door banged again, even louder.
Angelica said, “I know you’re in there.”
I said Rebecca’s line in my head before she even had a chance to say it. I got it spot on as well. Rebecca said, “We know you’re in there.”
Their lives are beyond sad. My life is even worse, getting bullied by them.
Irene looked the bravest out of all of us. Wendy is still trying to find a hiding place but nowhere in my room is big enough to hold her.
They banged the door a third time and it sounds as if the door nearly came off the hinges. Irene was determined to just open the door and face the music. I sure as hell wasn’t. Irene marched over to the door and opened it to let Dumb and Dumber in.
“Is there a reason why you took so long to open the door?” Angelica asked.
I didn’t even get a chance to answer because Miss Parrot had to do a job well done. I wasn’t too keen on answering her either; I was guessing it was a rhetorical question anyway.
They started to walk around us like we were in the military. Wendy looked as if she wanted to pass out. Her forehead was sweating and she was trembling like a leaf. For a big girl she sure as hell doesn’t serve any purpose. I wish I was that big – there’s no way on God’s green earth that I could get bullied.
Irene looked pissed off more than anything else. I know she’s thinking to herself she’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I feel terrible; if it wasn’t for me they wouldn’t have got troubled. I’m ecstatic that Elizabeth isn’t here. I don’t think I would be able to live with myself to see her fretting like that.
Angelica came right up in my face with her horrid breath. With every word she spoke, spit was coming out of her mouth. I would have preferred her to knock me out if I’m being honest. She standing in my face showering me with her spit is more than getting torture. Miss Parrot wasn’t very far. She was in my left ear talking the same rubbish. Spit might not have been coming out of her mouth but I could see the crap that was dropping from it.
“Why don’t you get a life?” Irene shouted out.
Why did Irene do that? I thought to myself. All that’s going to do is increase the tension and kick off the violence.
Angelica came from out of my face and went straight over to Irene. It’s definitely about to go down. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to say something but words couldn’t come out my mouth, as per usual. This would be the ideal time to use my ‘magic’. I tried to think of angry thoughts. I tried over and over and over again and it didn’t seem to work.
This magic rubbish is so bogus; it only works as and when it feels like it. That’s no use to me. Angelica reached over in Irene’s face. She took way longer than she should have to reach over to Irene.
“What did you just say?” Angelica asked furiously.
Irene repeated herself like she had no fear in the world. Her fear must have suddenly transferred to me because I’m now feeling scared out of my wits.
Angelica screamed, asking Irene, “Who do you think you are?”
Irene was being argumentative, and responded, “Irene Marie-Ann Smith.”
A part of me was happy that she was standing up for herself but another part of me couldn’t stop worrying about the consequences.
Angelica clenched her fist and bites her teeth. She lifts up her arm to, what I can only assume, punch Irene. I couldn’t stand up there and watch Irene get smacked up on my account.
“Leave her alone,” I screamed. I have a tendency to scream things out when it comes to the crunch. Angelica puts her arm down and comes back over to me. It’s like teasing a dog with a bone.
I told her that I made their clothes go pink by accident. I walked over to the basket and picked out a top to show them. Angelica started to scream. Surprise, surprise, Rebecca screamed straight after. Angelica is such a drama queen. I actually did her a favour making their clothes pink. They desperately needed to get rid of that trash.
Angelica was furious and Rebecca got furious because Angelica was furious. I am convinced that she’s incapable of thinking for herself; she’s like a programmed robot. Angelica then started to ask me what she should do to me. I hate those silly questions. How is she going to ask me what my punishment should be? Then again, I don’t expect much better from her.
“You need to grow up and get a life,” Irene interrupted. I really wish she would stop doing that. I don’t know how much times I can save her. She really needs to quit while she’s behind.
Angelica marched over to Irene angrily. She reached over there much faster this time. It’s amazing how you speed up when you’re angry. Angelica lifted Irene up by her neck and slammed her against the wall. I tried to say stop but the cat definitely had my tongue this time. I can’t stand here and watch her do that to Irene. Poor Irene! It’s not even her fault she’s in this mess. My conscience started to ride me, like me riding a horse.
“Put her down, you big fat bully,” I said surprisingly. I don’t know where that came from but it came from somewhere. I’m so rubbish at cursing. Who says that rubbish, apart from Sammie Miller? That sounded like one of David’s cheesy lines I would write to send to him, but delete on second thought. I sound as if I’m still in primary school.
Mine and Angelica’s eyes made four. Now I wish I didn’t interrupt her. She looks like she wants to eat me alive, literally. She dropped Irene to the floor. Next time I’ll choose my words properly. I’m sure Irene broke or sprained some body part because I heard something crack.
“You stupid bitch,” Irene mumbled whilst on the floor. Irene’s on a roll; there’s no stopping her now. Wendy is still standing there shaking like a leaf, and is speechless. Rebecca was just there not doing anything, for once. I’m guessing it’s not her time to take part in any activities. The only purpose she serves is to take every word out of Angelica’s mouth. When it comes on to anything physical she just spectates.
Angelica turns around to go back to Irene. I definitely have to do something now, whether I like it or not, well in this case not. I’m trying desperately hard to think angry thoughts and it’s like my brain is frozen. Great! Where is the damn magic when you need it?
“Leave her alone, you fathead,” I called back Angelica. I did it again: I keep coming out with these dumb lines. I can come up with some really great sarcastic lines; I just can’t freestyle. I’m not very good at coming out with any good stuff, especially when I’m nervous.
She turned back around to come for me. The closer she came, the more I backed up.
“If I don’t kill someone today I’m not going to sleep, and I like my sleep,” said Angelica. Every step she took towards me I would take a step back. I’ve almost run out of steps because this room isn’t exactly spacious. I need to think quick quick quick before my back is against the wall literally and metaphorically.
I have about two more steps left before I face my death. I’m trying to think angry thoughts to make this beast come out of my personal space. For some reason the magic decides to fail on me again. Typical: everything and everyone fails on me when I need them most.
I have one more step before I’m doomed. Screw the magic because clearly that isn’t going to work for me. Time to move on to plan B. Shit shit shit keeps going through my head.
“If you want to pick on someone, pick on somebody your own size,” cried Wendy. She was shivering at every single word. I regret her doing that. This can’t be good.
Angelica left me immediately and went over to Wendy. She’s worse than a dog going for a bone. I wish I could say I felt a slight relief that she had left me to go over to Wendy but I would be lying. I think I feel worse to witness. I prefer it happened to me.
Irene found the strength to pick up herself and stand up next to Wendy.
“You have to go through me first to get to Wendy,” yelled Irene.
This is all too much for me to take in. No way is this going to lead to a good outcome.
I’m dreading what the next move is going to be. Angelica pushed her hand in her breast and takes out a ratchet. This is even direr than I thought. She flicks out the ratchet. The blade was extremely sharp and glistening. It’s like she resharpens it ever so often.
Angry thoughts, angry thoughts, I thought to myself. It still didn’t work in my favour.
“It’s me you want, Angelica, so leave them alone and come and get me.” I said that so brave and courageous, which totally contradicts what I’m feeling inside.
She runs over to me with the knife pointing towards me, I bend down instantly and the knife went into the wall. Now she looks more pissed off than ever. I am fuming but my bogus magic doesn’t seem like it wants to work. Imagine I was the wall – I would have been dead by now. I wonder what goes through their minds half the time. She must have had a very hard and rough life. Why does she feel the need to walk around with a knife in her breast in a children’s home, children being the key word. Kids these days are possessed with demons that I have never yet encountered.
Angelica struggles to take the knife out of the wall, while I struggle to think what to do next. Irene looked more angry than scared; Wendy – I’m surprised she hasn’t wet herself by now; and I’m fuming at this precise moment in time. I’m far from scared now. Miss Parrot served no purpose in the room; she finished her job about forty-five minutes ago.
Angelica finally managed to take the knife out the wall. She started to bite her teeth again and clinched her fist even tighter. The evil look she gave me – I’m surprised I didn’t melt. She started to huff and puff, huff and puff. I’m amazed that the home is still standing.
It’s me she wanted now more than anything else. Like a vampire wanting blood, Angelica wanted me.
She walked over to me and strangely enough it looked like she was walking in slow motion. She threw the ratchet over at me, but it was closed this time, not that she was worrying about my safety or anything – she just didn’t realize because of how angry and disappointed she was. She was disappointed because things didn’t exactly go according to plan. In other words, the ratchet went through the wall and not me. Now it’s double disappointment because I escaped it this time round as well. It went straight through the window. It’s a good thing the window was open.
I feel much safer now that’s out of the way, but who’s to tell if Angelica’s bare hands are not even worse. She charges over to me like a raging bull. As she was about to jump on me, someone knocks on the door. I felt so relieved. Saved by the knock, I thought to myself.
“Sammie,” the voice called.
I was in doubt what to do. I couldn’t lie and tell whoever it was that I’m not in here. Too much noise was coming from here, so she would know something is going on.
I’m happy for that knock at the door – that stopped Angelica from potentially murdering me – but on the other hand, if I grass them up or say anything that I’m not supposed to, it will leave me in a sticky situation.
I went over to the door to open it. It was one of the social workers on duty.
“Is everything all right in here?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” I stuttered.
“Are you sure?” she asked again.
“I’m positive,” I stuttered again.
“Well, I heard an awful lot of noise coming from in here, so that’s why I asked,” she said.
She was scrutinizing everyone in the room, like she knew I was lying and something dodgy is going on.
Angelica passed me and told me that she would see me later. Miss Parrot did the same thing and they both left my room.
The social worker told us to just keep our noise down, and left us to get on with it.
I closed the door behind me, with only me, Irene and Wendy left in the room. Nobody said anything for about one minute. Irene broke the ice. “Who the hell do they think they are?” she yelled.
She then started to go into one. All she kept saying was that she’s sick and tired of their bull crap and no more Mr Nice Guy. When I thought she was finished it was just the beginning. She started to get angrier and angrier, at every word she spoke. She constantly insisted that we need to teach them a lesson. I was nodding my head at every part until she got up to there. I just want to leave this feud and finish it here, but I know deep down it’s nowhere near finished.
“With or without you, Sammie and Wendy, I’m going to bring them down.” She must be psychic or something because I haven’t said anything. I was just thinking that I don’t want any part of it. My facial expressions must have given it away.
“I think they should go down,” I said. I wasn’t lying – they definitely need to go down – but I don’t want to be the one that brings them down. All this is going to be is a pointless back-and-forth feud. It makes no sense when we are all under the same roof.
Wendy is still in shock. She still hasn’t even muttered a word. I can only assume that she’s counting herself out, because action speaks louder than words.
“Are you in or not?” Irene asked vigorously.
Even if I wanted to say no, I felt like I was forced to say yes.
“I’m down,” I said, not meaning a word of it. It’s not that they don’t deserve a bashing. I’m just not much of a fighter. I have never done anything like this before, so it’s all a bit new to me. Irene looked like she would be fine if she got sent to Afghanistan to fight the war. Even though she was a bit scared at first, she eventually got used to it. She got so used to it that it changed her from being slightly scared to a notorious serial killer. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but you get my drift. It’s like something got into her. Nothing would be of surprise after everything I’ve witnessed today. My motto from that day forward is: Nothing is impossible – a matter a fact. All things are possible.
“I’m down,” mumbled Wendy.
I was laughing my ass off, in short, lmaoooooffff. I was doing it to myself, of course. I don’t know where I managed to find any humour in a time like this but it was pretty funny.
I repeated back to myself what Wendy said. It didn’t make sense the first time and it still didn’t make sense the second time. Down with what, I wonder? It definitely can’t be down with payback. She must have been referring to something else we don’t know about.
To my surprise, she repeated herself and said, “Let’s do this.” I was still in shock and in doubt as to what she wanted to do. She stood as still as a statue and could just about stand up straight, and let me not forget to mention she couldn’t even speak. So forgive me when I ask, “Do what?”
Irene looked at me in a way which scared the hell out of me. It looked scarier than the look Angelica gave me. I’m dreading the plan she has up her sleeve; it can’t be nowhere near good. I plucked up the courage to ask her how she wanted to get back at them. She paused for about a minute or two. I wish I didn’t find the courage to ask because now I seriously don’t want to know.
She kept pacing around the room and I could tell she was thinking up something more devious than ever. I mean, they deserve everything that’s coming to them but we don’t need to go to the extreme.
“Let’s embarrass them,” shouted Wendy.
That wasn’t the kind of outburst Irene was looking for.
“Embarrass them?” Irene shouted disappointedly. “You are way off track, sweetie.”
She then started going into one of her little mini-speeches again. All she needs is a cauldron and a wooden spoon, and she fits the role perfectly.
I am stunned that this all started over laundry. I can tell this place is going to be filled with drama. Funny enough, I still don’t feel like saying I wish I was back at home.
“How did you want to get back at them?” I asked again, reluctantly.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said. She kept going on and on about she wants to get back at them really good. I thought she has stopped but I thought wrong, as per usual. She did not let go of the fact that Angelica could have killed me when she pushed the knife through the wall. She didn’t have to keep reminding me about that; I think that’s quite obvious. I have an idea where she is going with this, and it would be nice to be wrong again.
After blabbing on and on and on, all I got from the last part is “Kill them”. That’s the only thing my ears decided to let in to get to my brain. It should have blocked it out like everything else. All that did was wake up my heavens.
I tried to talk her out of it even though I knew it would be pointless. “That’s a bit extreme,” I kept saying to her.
All she did was lash out and say, “A bit extreme? A bit extreme? You would have had it if you didn’t move out the way.” You would think it had happened to her. I’m not ungrateful or anything; I appreciate her concern, but me, Sammie Miller the victim, isn’t even acting like that. I personally want to put the entire thing behind me. I’m so not cut out for this.
I’m not even a fighter, yet alone a killer. The hell with it, I can’t even curse. The most I’m good at is thinking of some really sarcastic lines that I don’t even say out loud.
“Let’s do something that will really embarrass them,” I persuaded her. “There’s no point killing them: you won’t be able to see their facial expressions. You want them alive.” I tried persuading her even more.
“Alive?” she yelled. Her outbursts are getting beyond annoying. She needs to stop doing that. That does nothing apart from frighten the living crap out of me.
I am curious on knowing how she wanted to carry out this master plan without avoiding a prison sentence. I don’t think she thought up to that far. I don’t think she thought about anything. She doesn’t know what she wants to do, how she’s going to do it. She doesn’t know jack.
I mean, that’s awfully selfish, wanting to drag someone in a plan that you haven’t thought through properly, or haven’t thought through at all.
“I’m not going to help you kill her,” I said. I told Irene that I’ll help her do anything else but killing is out of the agenda.
She then responded like I expected her to, saying that she’s going to do it with or without my help. I didn’t give up on trying persuading her. It’s like I was talking to a brick wall: it went through her left ear and came out through the right one.
About an hour later, listening to Irene’s rubbish drained me. On the plus side she seemed as if she was getting back in touch with reality slowly but surely. That’s a relief, I thought.
Now instead of killing them, she just wants to hurt them really bad. It doesn’t sound far off from killing but at least we’re getting somewhere.
I started giving her some advice on ways to hurt them. My advice is a little bit safer than that of Irene’s. I told her to put cockroaches in their beds, or a snake or some form of creepy-crawly. Even though I was giving her the idea, I wasn’t too keen on it, especially snakes. I hate snakes but it was better than Irene’s idea to cut their throats in their sleep. Call me crazy but that’s a tad bit extreme, if you ask me.
I wasn’t surprised with the ideas Wendy was coming out with. All her ideas were food related. She was enthusiastic about the idea of dipping their face in food, throwing food on their heads, putting food in their beds. You get the drift – everything is always about food with her. I would think that, for once, she would have left out food, but she sure knows how to make food an aspect of every part of her life. I must say, I preferred her idea over Irene’s. I would prefer even no idea over Irene’s idea.
We had to start thinking more practical before Irene changed her mind and wants to start killing again. I tried long and hard to think of something that Irene might feel comfortable with, but my brain just froze. I want to tell the girls about my powers but I don’t feel that now is the best time. They wouldn’t believe me anyway. We all sat in silence for about ten minutes. I’m sure they were thinking about the great master plan. Me, on the other hand, kept thinking about my so-called powers.
“Let’s frame them,” Wendy smiled.
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Tell me more,” Irene smiled.
“I haven’t got any more,” said Wendy. That’s a relief: Irene likes this idea. It’s way better than the killing idea.
At least now it looks like we’re getting somewhere. Now the next hurdle is to figure out what we’re going to use to frame them. We went all silent again for about fifteen minutes. I prefer the silence, to be honest. It’s less stressful.
Irene suggested that we frame them by putting a gun in one of the witches’ room. I wasn’t too keen on the idea because if it all goes wrong we can also go down. I then started to think who would carry the gun to put in their room, where we would get the gun from, and who we would get the gun from.
That idea didn’t appeal to me at the slightest. After I put all the questions to her that she couldn’t answer, she disregarded the idea.
Wendy then suggested that we take someone’s belongings – something that’s precious and meaningful – and put it in their room.
I quite like that idea. I hope Irene likes it too: it’s way more toned down than the killing idea. Irene had her thinking face on, the face that said she was considering it. I hope that’s the face she has because I really can’t be asked to think about any more lovely ideas.
“All right,” said Irene. I felt a sigh of relief.
“Yes,” I shouted. I just wanted to confirm it before they started to make any changes. “I love that idea,” I added.
“Looks like it’s sorted then,” said Irene. I felt even more of a relief.
“Woohooo,” I screamed out of excitement. “We’ve finally got our master plan.” I smiled.
I was pleased because we all came up with a mutual plan that we all seem happy with, for now.
As pleased as I was, we still haven’t thought our plan through step by step, so I know there’s still more headache to come.
Irene then said we need to make it our point of duty to watch everyone in the home. We watch how they move and we try to figure out what’s precious to them. Moving forward from that, we try to get a hold of their asset and place it in their room.
After Irene put it like that, it sounds like mission impossible. All of a sudden the killing idea sounds great. How are we going to get the someone’s stuff in the first place, and then place it in Angelica’s and Rebecca’s room.
I then suggested that we pick four people that’s worth picking to watch, rather than watching everyone in the home. That would have been time consuming. Not only that but the more people we watch the more variety of crazy ideas we might get. I’m not in the mood to deal with any crazy ideas. I think I’ll pass.
It was getting late and I was tired and ready to go to bed. I wanted to tell them to go out of my room but I didn’t know how to go about it. I yawned about three hundred times, and not one out of the two of them got the hint. All they kept doing was yawning straight after me and stressing how tired they were. I thought that would have led them to say that they’re going to bed, but it didn’t. Instead Wendy was getting comfortable, stretching out on my bed like she wanted to sleep in here.
I finally managed to ask Wendy why she doesn’t go to sleep in her room if she’s tired. She lied through her teeth, mouth and tongue, saying that she’s not tired, simultaneously yawning. I don’t know why I bother half the time. It doesn’t make sense, to be honest.
I have a gut feeling that they either really enjoy the company, or they are just scared out of their wits to be by their selves. No matter how much I hinted that I’m tired and want to sleep, they just didn’t care.
Irene was still trying to finish the step-by-step master plan. At this time of night my brain is switched off. Any ideas I come up with after dark are not worth considering because guaranteed they’re utter rubbish.
I yawned one hundred times more but louder this time. They are so inconsiderate. All Irene kept saying to me was I need to stay awake and give her ideas. My energy level was now on zero at this point.
Twenty minutes later, it’s like a light bulb switched on over Irene’s head. “I got it; I got it,” she screamed. She screamed so loud that it scared the living daylights out of me. I suddenly felt alive and kicking.
“We are going to watch Jermaine, Matthew and Dwayne,” she said.
I’m almost certain that we agreed to watch four people. I’m not sure if she changed her mind and decides to watch three people instead of four – tired and not thinking straight or just can’t count. Whatever the reason was, I couldn’t care less. In my tired state I have no energy or patience to correct anybody’s wrongs.
“I think I’m going bed now,” I yawned.
Irene heard me but she pretended as if she didn’t. They really are both starting to piss me off now.
“I’m going to my bed now,” I repeated, in a much harsher tone.
“Fine, fine, fine,” Irene lashed out. She then had the cheek to say if I wanted them out of my room I should have just said the word. It’s either she’s slow, stupid or stubborn. I said the word, the sentence, the phrase. I even started to sing.
She finally said that she’s tired and she’s going to bed. She then added the operation would be carried out in the morning. I hope her mornings mean night. I know for a fact I will not be awake in the morning.
Five minutes later, which felt like an entire year, Wendy just about dragged herself up off the bed and makes her way to the door. I prayed every step of her way that she makes it to the door without any interruptions of her turning back.
I told them both good night when they were walking out the door, so they know that I haven’t changed my mind about wanting to go to bed. As the door shut behind them, I threw myself down on my bed. I couldn’t tell the last time I’ve showed my bed so much appreciation. I was extremely tired and I was long overdue for some ‘me’ time. I needed to be by myself to try and put my life back into perspective. I reached for my diary to start writing. It’s funny, because before I never used to write this much. Now I start to miss my diary when I haven’t written in it. I’ve realized that when I see my emotions, my life, feelings on paper, it makes more sense than trying to figure it out in my head. It’s like mental maths, it’s like trying to understand French when I’m trying to work it out in my head, and it’s much clearer on paper.
I put pen to paper, as tired as I was. As per usual, I wrote anything that came to mind.
I wrote: