The Psychopath Maker

Chapter Twenty-Four

    Everything about Evening annoyed Faith. Going back to her little town by the ocean was like stepping into yesteryear. Stores didn't sell alcohol on the weekend (if you wanted to get a buzz, you had to have a fully stocked in house bar or a top-notch fake ID), the newspaper was still printed (mostly illustrating the past week of parties, charity functions, and wedding announcements) and the church bells still rung every Sunday morning. Kids still played in the streets and rode their bikes to The Dairy Farm for a scoop of pistachio mint ice cream or whatever creamy flavor they'd thought up for the season.

    Everyone knew everyone. To most that may seem like a perk but Faith knew better. If you go caught trying to club at 6611 with that fake ID everyone would be talking about. If you broke up with your boyfriend, it would be the topic of discussion at The Nectar Hut. Or like if you were Faith and got caught hooking up with your best friend's boyfriend in Jade Park then you could still hear the whispers behind your back.

    There was a time she loved this town. Faith remembered those days, licking the double scoop cone of pistachio mint before it ran down her arm, pedaling her bike through lanes as Kelly led them to the beach where their older brothers; Chance and Augustus played football with their friends. Done with her ice cream and bored of the game she'd watch the sun be put to bed as the warm sand soothed her body and the chilly water appeased her soul. Those were the days when her mother was her mother and not the bitch that bore her. That was before Dawson, before John Fulton.

     Standing in the foyer of her home, Faith could feel the muscles of her chest tighten. The clicking of approaching heels did nothing to calm her rising tension. Faith wished her bedroom was on the first floor, so she could quickly disappear around the corner like Maya just did. No, she had to cross the foyer and a hallway just to get to the stairs. As the clicking of stilts on hardwood grew louder, Faith breathed in and out repeating one word in her mind. Tact.

    A foxlike woman with a sharp nose, sun-soaked skin, bobbed blonde hair and wafer-like statue strutted around the corner. Faith stopped breathing momentarily.

   Giselle stopped, folded her arms under her b-cup chest, "Faith Emilie Payson, what are you wearing?" She said with her lip turned up.

"W-What do you mean?" Faith smoothed out the sides of her button-down. "You picked out this skirt...it's Burberry."

   "Not the skirt." Giselle pointed to Faith's feet. "The shoes."

    Faith glanced down at her tan Sperry's. "I was just...coming home...not going anywhere else." Faith curled her feet up, trying to make them appear smaller.

   "Five inches or nothing." Giselle combed her hand through her glossy hair. "I don't want to see those anymore. Throw them away....just like those flip-flop things." She sighed. "Jesus can pull off sandals but not you."

    Faith nodded repeating her word for the moment. Tact.

     Giselle trained her sight on Faith more precisely. Faith groaned inwardly but not enough so her mom could hear. Giselle toyed with her gold hoops before speaking, "I'll make you an appointment with Lauren, see if she can see you this afternoon."

     "Why?" Faith asked, rubbing her hand over her fluffy hair.

    "Why?" Giselle huffed. "Your roots are showing."

     "I don't have a problem with my roots." Faith grumbled under her breath.

     Giselle's tilted her head up, angling her ear toward her daughter. "Excuse me!"

      "I didn't say anything." Faith shook her head with a limp smile.

      "I'm not raising a coward." Giselle's voice seethed with contempt. "If you have something to say...say it."

      Faith took a hard swallow. "I like my hair the way it is." Her mother's eyebrows furrowed but Faith wasn't done. "I...also like it curly."

      "That's out of the question." Giselle quipped.

     "Oh!" Faith leaned over and whispered, "Because people will know we're Negroes."

     Giselle put a hand to her chest, "Don't speak like that in this house."

     "Then where can I say it, mama!" Faith threw her arms up.

     "Don't call me that, either!" The woman fumed, her bronze flaring. "I am Giselle to you!"

      "I forgot!" Faith couldn't hold back. She abandoned mentally chanting tact. "I'm a motherless child because of what someone else did to me!" Faith pushed back tears before shouting. "I hate this place almost as much as I hate you!" 

She ran out of the foyer, through the hallway and up the stairs. She slammed her bedroom door behind her and slid to the floor. Faith looked through her tear-blurred vision and saw something white beneath her foot. It was an envelope. She grabbed it and read her full name in calligraphy written upon it. She neatly opened it, pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. She read it aloud with a shaky voice.

Reeking havoc on those that we loathe

That posses a gift, not at our dispose

Screw you and your soul

Ridiculing us for our empty hole

You have been summoned to Poe Woods

I know you know what lies there

See you on the first hour of Saturday

   Faith balled the paper up and threw it across the room, "I gonna kill Troy's ass." 

It seems Faith and her mother aren't the best of friends. Do you think Troy is the culprit behind the letters?