Page 82 of Ramsay

The night my parents laid down an ultimatum and Carmen left never to return, I admitted to my parents that she stole from them.

This after months of watching her rifle through their shit when they weren’t home. I guess she didn’t feel the need to hide what she was doing from me, which was a mistake on her part.

By then, I was scared for my sister but also afraid of her. Her behavior was so out of tune with the girl I thought I knew so well.

After my hysterical confession, my parents confronted her. It was all downhill from there. She screamed and raged while they stood their ground and then…she never came back.

I know intellectually none of that was my fault. I was a child who was frightened, but that doesn't shake the knowledge that if I had just kept my mouth closed, she might be here today.

Maybe I could have found another way. I’ll never know because I didn't hold the secret, and my truths brought down our family in one fell swoop.

These are the admissions I made in my treatment and cried over, resolving to let it go and forgive the girl who didn't know better because Carmen was spiraling anyway. Eventually, she would have gotten into the trouble she found because she was in too deep.

To this day, I feel guilty for betraying her, my best friend. It's my deepest shame, and I’ve done a lot of screwed up shit because of it, all of which is in that stupid record. How Ramsay knows exactly where to hit is beyond me. He could have pulled out my reckless sexual escapades, the dirty shit I did for my next hit. Even the rock bottom place I ended up in when I was plucked from that world, but no, he zeroed in on the one thing I’ve held closest to my heart.

And it's that much more painful knowing Carmen’s end wasn't from drugs, but a fucked up human being who took her from the side of the road and tortured her before cutting off her fucking head.

All of this and more runs through me in waves while my arms itch and my heart pounds. I crave oblivion, but I don't deserve it. No, my penance is to feel it all and live through it.

Christmas Day is a grim affair, but I give my parents credit for trying, with their hastily put together gifts that I hold my tongue against critiquing. I mean, I’m not ten fucking years old. I don't need a teddy bear, people don't watch DVDs anymore, and how fucking lazy can you be with a gift card?

But I say nothing because none of it matters. This heart is broken. We lost the pieces that made us whole, and we’ll never be anything more than two halves of a fucking dream.

After the pathetic attempt at family time, dressed in a vibrant red sweater and my nicest jeans, all of which I donned in a half-attempt to be festive, I leave the house. I need to breathe, and the air inside our home is stagnant and choking with loss.

I drive around aimlessly with nowhere in mind, ending up at a park Carmen and I used to go to as kids. Her husky laugh dances through my head as I stare at what was once a new and shiny piece of equipment, now cracked and faded by time.

Carmen used to catch me at the bottom of the slide with a smile before cheering me on as I swung from the monkey bars. But the vista before me no longer holds the same bright passion and I feel the fissures that decorate the slide all the way to my soul.

Still, I feel closer to her here than at home, which is why I approach the swing set with a nostalgic sniffle and plant my ass on the seat.

The rubber creaks under my weight and I wobble, muttering a curse as I fall to my ass, the chains raining down around me with a loud clang.

“Seriously?”

I look up at the beams above with a scowl. The hook for the chain sways mockingly and I sigh. Whatever.

Where once happiness resided, this place is now broken down, bruised, and empty. Another fucking reminder that I have no one to turn to, no one to listen when I speak about my loss, or to just be there when I cry and rage. Shit, even the comfort Ramsay offered was ruined when he turned me away later, callously at that.

What would it be like to have a circle of friends who were so loyal, they shut out others to keep themselves safe?

Who knows? I burned any bridges I might have cultivated a long time ago.

After a while, I trudge back to my car because it's fucking freezing out here, and my extremities are numb. Not to mention I’m tired of my own solemn thoughts. I don't want to go home, but I have nowhere else to go and it’s a fucking pathetic fact, that.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I shiver and turn on the heat, but it's not quick enough for the chills cascading over my body, and I reach back for the extra coat I have tucked away behind my seat.

Only to freeze when I spy the object resting so innocently on the bench seat's ripped fabric.

It's a fucking rabbit's foot, this one dyed a brilliant blue. Grabbing my coat, I shove my hand in the pocket and find the red foot before pulling it out with shaking hands.

Someone left the fucking thing in my car, and I don't even know when because it’s not like I look back there if I don't need to.

Shuddering, I glance around outside the vehicle before glancing in the backseat again. Of course, I jump out of my skin because now I’m having visions of some maniac jumping out at me.

Jamming the key in the ignition, I pull away from the lot and speed toward my house, the air in my lungs trapped behind the panic squeezing my chest like a vice. I don't know what this means, and it could be a prank, but if it is, it's a truly cruel one.

Could this be the next scheme by the Sinners? Only they know about the first and if it's not, what the fuck is going on? Have I attracted the attention of my sister’s killer? And if so, why?

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