Possessed Soul

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Up until this moment I hadn't realised I could run so fast. I surprised myself by sprinting back into the school with remarkable speed, but I guess that's the thing about fear, it controls you and makes your movements seem like they're somebody else's and not your own.

I reluctantly looked behind me and realised that he was gone. The man who I thought was stalking me was nowhere to be seen. I looked out of the window to see if he would appear again, the expanse of the football field was all I saw, but that wasn't enough to convince me to stop running.

Once I made it to the reception, I asked the lady behind the desk if I could use the school's telephone. She seemed disinterested in anything I had to say, but pointed to the phone.

"Mom, I need you to pick me up," I said after dialing her number. I tried to keep my voice neutral to avoid worrying her, but there were still undertones of worry in my words.

The receptionist looked at me from behind her computer, silently telling me to hurry up. She had a pixie haircut with a pointed chin, making her look like a fairy. She looked like she was analysing my every word and I wouldn't have minded if I could give her a reasonable explanation for what was happening. I couldn't, so her scrutinizing gaze only made me speak softer, wanting to keep her out of the conversation with my mother.

"Honey, is everything ok?" my mother asked. I heard a soft creak as she closed the front door.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said, with a shaky voice that I highly doubt fooled her.

"I'm on my way. Just hang tight."

It wasn't long before she pushed open the door to the front office. The sight of her filled me with such relief, that I wanted to cry.

Soon I was sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Honda. It had been a while since I'd sat in this car, because I usually walked to school and didn't go to many other places, besides the bookstore.

My mother had thrown her hair into a high ponytail and it looked damp, like she had gone for a swim or had taken a shower. She tenderly touched my face and immediately pulled away.

"You're ice cold," she observed and quickly turned up the heat.

The warm air warmed my cold cheeks and the sudden temperature change probably made my face turn red.

"What happened?" she asked as she furrowed her perfectly arched brows.

I explained it to her as best I could, leaving out no details. When I stopped, her expression was horror-stricken her mouth slightly agape and her as pale as chalk.

"The man, what did he look like?" Her grip on the steering wheel tightened and her jaw clenched.

"The shadow of his hat kept his face hidden," I replied. "Mom, I'm scared." I know I sounded like a child, but right now my life looked like something out of a horror movie.

***

"Sage..." My mother spoke my voice in a soft whisper, but I was close enough to hear her. She was talking on the phone in another room. I wasn't planning on listening, but hearing my name made me want to know what she was saying and who she was talking to. I knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she was talking about me. There was something she wasn't telling me, and I had to know what that was. "She saw one of them today," my mother said. "We should take care of him before he alerts the others."

There was silence as the person on the other side of the phone spoke.

"Patrick, thank you so much." said my mom. She sighed heavily.

Patrick Stark is my mother's boyfriend. They have been dating for as long as I can remember, but they had never moved to the next step. Patrick is like a father to me, filling in for my biological father who had died in a car accident just after I was born. When my mother had something she needed to do, Patrick was always there to look after me. He was loads more fun than any babysitter. He is so familiar to me, I could close my eyes and imagine the way his spliced eyebrows raised when he was confused, or the way his mouth curled slightly whenever he looked at my mother. Patrick is a policeman and I know people often think policemen are scary; the people who worked with Patrick are, but not him. The minute someone walked into the Croydon police department, Patrick always had a smile on his face, ready to help the person in need.

"One more thing." My mother's voice had gone softer barely above a whisper, so I pressed my ear against the door to hear. "We need to dispose of the body from last night."

***

After my mom had headed out, I prepared myself for the party Ryan was taking me to. I stood in nothing but my bra and panties. I groaned in frustration as I looked at the clone of myself in the mirror. I had used a bit of mom's makeup, just mascara and lip gloss. I couldn't do anything more; I barely knew how to blend foundation properly. I would have liked to straighten my hair, but I was short of time and might end up burning my hair to a crisp, like Jo did to Meg's hair in Little Women.

I pondered over what to wear. I was unsure what kind of attire was appropriate for a teenager's party. I had nothing dressy, so I decided to look through my mother's things. I knew there would be hell to pay later, but I was already sneaking out so I might as well go the full way.

My mom had gone out for the night and said she'd be back late. I was surprised she actually felt comfortable leaving me alone, but then again I wasn't known for rebellious behaviour. Part of me wanted to follow her and see what she was going to do. Take care of him before he alerts the others? It was clear she had expected something like this to happen, she had been expecting one of them. But what was even more baffling was that she wanted me to believe I hadn't done anything wrong, while she covered up the crime. I was stressed, more for her than for myself. If she was seen disposing of the body...

I couldn't think about that now. I could only hope that she would explain all of this to me since she obviously knew more than I did. Even if she didn't, Patrick would surely tell me; he seemed to be clued up on this whole mess.

I looked through her clothes but found nothing that would fit me. This was one of the reasons that I never borrowed my mother's clothes, I was simply too short to wear any of her stuff. My eyes fell on a box right at the back of the closet. I reached for the box and gently blew on it to get rid of some of the dust. This box seemed personal, like she didn't want it to be found or she had left it there for so long she had forgotten about it.

I pried it open and grinned at its contents. Skinny jeans did not seem like my mom's thing. I looked at the label: Sissy Boy. Wasn't that expensive or something? I felt bad for taking it, but it didn't look like it would fit mom anymore, so I wasn't really doing anything unforgivable. Under the jeans was a cute black top. These must have been the clothes from her youth; she definitely wouldn't wear anything like this now. The top was a crop top with a delicate collar that was dotted with pearls. I hadn't ever worn a crop top before, but I was feeling brazen today. So why not?

I was about to put the box away when I saw a page from an old newspaper in it. It was an article about a baby that had gone missing from a hospital. Why would my mother keep this? I read further and just over the page was a picture of the mother of the baby. Her hazel eyes stared back at me, and it was clear she was pained. She didn't smile but she also didn't look like she was crying; she looked haunted. Her hair was bright red, like flames, and it was curly. She looked like me.

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