Rachel woke from her foray into the past with only a pounding headache and a deep furrow between her brows for her trouble. She had sat for hours staring out the window, the scenic view unappreciated. Although her stomach rumbled madly, she didn't feel hungry. Her throat was so on fire from her unshed tears that she doubted she could even force a small morsel down.
The spring day had transformed into a cool spring evening. Dusk was falling when they stopped at yet another random town. She exited the bus with the others and entered the terminal. The small rundown station housed a cafeteria, gift shop and public washrooms. In the center, a waiting area was set up for arrivals and departures. Long powder-blue benches lay row upon row. Family and friends sat impatiently, eagerly waiting to greet their loved ones. Slipping in unnoticed during the commotion, she made her way directly to the gift shop and bought some toiletries, brown hair dye and a pair of scissors. The clerk looked at her oddly, but refrained from mentioning her strange purchases. Quickly but discreetly, she made her way to the public restrooms, not knowing how much time she had before the bus departed once again.
Once in the restroom, Rachel took the time to look under all the stalls to ensure that the washroom was indeed deserted. Entering the last stall on the right, placing the lid down on the toilet, and sitting down, she ripped the scissors from their package with trembling hands. Seizing one long strand of auburn hair in her hand, she brought the scissors up and sliced through the strand with ease. As the long auburn locks fell to the floor, she was transported once more to the past, silent tears streaming down her face...
¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª
She had lain on the bathroom floor, her face pressed firmly to the cold tile. Six girls held her down while Brenda, the biggest and meanest of the lot, held the cold steel of scissors against the other cheek. Rachel struggled fiercely under the crushing weight of the other girls, but to no avail.
Brenda had sneered at her and said, "You think you're pretty, don't you? You think you're something special. You're a real looker all right, but you won't be when we get through with you." At this, Brenda had placed the closed scissors more firmly against her cheek.
Hearing her words, Rachel began to wiggle madly, trying unsuccessfully to tear herself from their grip. She tried to scream, but the hand that was against her mouth allowed only a muffled sob to escape. To her relief, Brenda removed the scissors from her cheek, only to open them and lay them against her head. Rachel felt the icy cold fingers of dread play up her spine when she felt the cold steel of the scissors against her scalp. The scissors closed, and she heard the unmistakable sound of them slicing through her hair. She watched in horror as one long strand after another fell to the floor.
An hour later in the matron's office, she sat in a chair opposite the matron's desk, with a head of hair that looked like it had been trimmed with a lawnmower. There were bald patches and even nicks where they had cut too close to the scalp. The dull scissors had ripped through rather than cut her hair, and her scalp felt like it was on fire. Rachel resolutely stared down at her feet as the matron pressed for the name or names of the individuals that had done this to her.
She had flatly refused to answer, and stated that she had done it herself on a dare. She had known without a doubt that telling would only lead to retribution from the other girls. Maybe next time, the girls would use the scissors to slice her face, leaving her permanently scarred. Or worse, they would kill her. After all, the scissors were still accessible. Brenda had hidden them under her mattress. She bragged and called them her little souvenir, not to mention that many of the girls who had held her down were quite capable of anything. Thanks to group counseling, she knew that many of them were capable of much, much more. It wasn't worth risking her life over, and besides, hadn't she gone through worse?
Since her arrival at the detention center five months before the bathroom incident, she'd been abused almost on a daily basis. Once it was determined that she wouldn't fight back, she had become everyone's punching bag. After all, what had fighting back accomplished other than to get her there in the first place? No, she was determined not to risk additional time on her sentence for assault; Even, if it was in self-defense. Who would believe her anyway? They hadn't before. Even the newbies abused her. It was like some kind of sick initiation rite. She had a month to go, and she wasn't about to risk her safety just to see them punished. It was only hair. It would grow back.
She had been right. Her hair had grown back. A month later, when she left the detention center, it had grown long enough to imitate a pixie style, and it had looked quite attractive on her. Due to the loss of weight and lack of sleep, she had become very gaunt. This had accentuated her high cheekbones and her leaner attributes, which suited the style perfectly. She mused that on entering the detention center, she had been a plump-faced little girl, whereas now after leaving the facility, she appeared a leaner, more angular young woman. But to her, she looked beaten, and she felt beaten, in body, heart, and soul.
Rachel remained in the system for the next three years. Unable to be placed with another foster family for fear that she would become violent again, and too old for an orphanage, she was placed in a halfway house for troubled girls. In that time, she had let her hair grow long once more, and had worn it draped over her face in an attempt to hide from the world. Her wardrobe had consisted of secondhand clothes that were two sizes too big for her, and she had often walked with her head down, never making eye contact. She chose not to believe in the old adage," It is better to be thoroughly looked over, than to be overlooked". She might have been frightened, but she wasn't stupid. She chose to study every spare moment that she had for the remainder of her high school years. As a result, she graduated with honors and was offered a scholarship to NYU for Business. But despite her academic success, she had remained friendless until her sophomore year at university.
Her dorm mate Katherine Reed had been an Art Major: beautiful, flamboyant, outgoing, friendly, and confident; everything she was not. Rachel had tried without success to ignore her new roommate. She intended to spend her time in university the same way she had spent her years in high school, but Kat wouldn't hear of it. For the first month, Kat refused to shut up. By the end of the month, Rachel knew her whole life story. She had not been as forthcoming, however. This did not deter Kat in the least, and slowly but surely she drew her out. Finally, just before Christmas break, Rachel told her everything. Kat had seemed to understand. More importantly, she believed her.
Rachel had managed not to shed a single tear as she related her story, but finally broke down sobbing and weeping when Kat explained to her that if she let the people that had hurt her shape the rest of her life as she had done these last three years, then they would win. But if Rachel could learn to trust again and become a beautiful, successful, well-adjusted woman despite what had happened, then she would be the victor. Like the phoenix, she would rise from the ashes of her turbulent past.
It was during this conversation that Kat invited Rachel to her aunt's house in North Dakota for the Christmas holiday. Rachel reluctantly agreed, not yet ready to trust again. That year, she celebrated Christmas for the first time with a happy family. In that time, Kat transformed her attitude as well as her appearance. By the time they went back to school, Rachel was a new woman. She no longer draped her hair over her face, but brushed it back in a becoming way. She began to wear make-up, high heels, and finally purchased clothes that were her proper size. Kat had teasingly said, "Who would have thought that you actually had curves?"
When they returned to university, Kat had gotten her a job as a waitress at the café that she had worked at since the beginning of the year. Rachel found that she could now afford her dramatic makeover. Kat dragged her to parties, forced her to get involved in extra-curricular activities, and introduced her to all her friends. By the end of the first year, Rachel became approachable, witty, confident, and to her surprise was considered quite desirable.
Rachel was surprised when Kat invited her to stay with her family over the summer break. She had intended to take extra courses in order to stay in the dorm, but had not been looking forward to doing it. She really needed the break, so she had jumped at the offer, and from that moment on, she became an honorary member of the Reed family. And although she was close to everyone, it couldn't replace having a family of her own. She often felt like a jigsaw puzzle with a few missing pieces. Sure, you could make out the picture, but something was missing. She was incomplete.
For the next four years, Kat dragged Rachel home at every break. She had stated that she needed a comrade in arms to help her deal with her crazy family. Kat had teasingly informed her that she was obligated, because they were no longer friends. They were more like sisters, she had said laughingly, and sisters have your back.
People even thought they were sisters. Had it not been for Kat's brown eyes and brown hair, they would have been identical. They were both petite and had similar facial features. Their clique had even gone as far as to nickname them the Dynamic Duo. Because of Kat's attention, Rachel had learned to love again, to trust again, and to live again.
It was this newfound strength that had made it possible for Rachel to survive the single greatest loss of her young life.
Kat had gone to the last big blowout of their university experience. Rachel stayed behind to study for the finals. She was determined to win an internship with Norton and Burns. Her grades had slipped a little because of her more active social life, so she really put her nose to the grindstone, studying as hard as she could in order to ace the finals and be top of the class. It was three am before she had heard about the fatal car crash involving Kat and her boyfriend. Kat's boyfriend had been drinking, and had hit a transport truck head on. They were both killed instantly. Kat was buried in North Dakota three days after the accident. One week after that, Rachel accepted Kat's degree in her absence, with tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. She felt then, as she did now, that a life without Kat in it would be the hardest thing she would ever have to face.
In a moment of weakness, she had told the man she loved about that loss. To think the bastard had taken her memory of Kat and sullied it. He had figured out that the security password on her client files was none other than her dead best friend's name. The thought sickened her, but also spurred her into action.
Rachel emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later as Katherine Reed. For all the other passengers knew, she was a new arrival.
Rachel Morgan had completed her journey...
¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª¨§©ª
As soon as she exited the bathroom, she heard a commotion, and out of the corner of her eye she saw, to her dismay, two uniformed officers huddled near the snack machine. They seemed to be talking to a group of people. They were passing a picture around to the curious bystanders. Her heart leapt to her throat. Were they looking for her? Pulling her cap down further on her head, even as she kept her eyes glued to the floor, she headed for the exit. Once outside, she made straight for the bus, but the door was closed. The bus driver was nowhere to be seen. She looked around frantically. Willing her adrenaline-filled brain to work, she reasoned with herself that she could just sneak back into the bathroom, but her legs wouldn't allow her to go back into the terminal and risk being seen by the dutiful officers. She prayed for the quick return of the bus driver, so she could wait on the bus where she would be safe, but the seconds seemed to tick by like hours. Finally, her fear got the better of her.
Deciding to put as much distance between her and the lawmen, she walked resolutely towards the far end of the terminal, hugging the wall as she went. A part of her wanted to run, and her inner self was screaming at her to run – just leave the bus terminal and hitchhike across country. It wouldn't be hard to get a lift from a truck driver or a lonely traveler. Hadn't she seen a truck stop no more than five miles down the road? Get a grip, she chided herself. You can't possibly be considering that option. Time is of the essence, and you are considering spending days on the road instead of hours. You don't even know if it's your picture they're showing. Besides, you look nothing like a New York executive. To everyone else, you appear to be a student coming home for summer break.
She could reason with herself all she wanted, but the fact was she was scared. Those officers could very well be passing around her picture. This was her life now; she was a fugitive. She leaned against the brick wall of the terminal, staring resolutely towards the back parking lot, determined not to let them see her face. The officers were leaving the building; she could hear the door open, but dared not look. Judging by the patter of feet, the group of people seemed to be following them, hoping for a little excitement.
"Please, please, please don't come over here." she heard herself plead out loud.
"Excuse me, I thought this was the smoking area," said a tall man in his early twenties. As he said this, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
"Oh," she said as if waking from a deep sleep. "No, I don't mean you... I just..." she stammered, deciding at last to ask, "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette for me, would you?"
What are you doing, you don't smoke? She reasoned with herself in her own head. Well if I'm smoking with this guy, then it would appear that I'm traveling with him. Why not? With this new look, we appear to be around the same age. It's perfect! They are looking for a New York executive traveling alone, not a university student traveling with her boyfriend.
She made sure to lean in closely as he lit her cigarette, trying desperately to still her quaking hands. In doing so, she leaned a lot closer than a complete stranger would. He looked a little shocked, but somehow pleased as well. She knew her behavior seemed odd. She hoped he would chalk it up to just another crazy person traveling on the bus.
"Hey, my name's Zach, what's yours?" he asked with the hint of a grin.
Looking flustered, she hoped that he would not reach over to shake her hand in greeting. She leaned in really close and whispered in his ear intimately, "My name's Kat." To her relief, he did not shake her hand. Instead, a playful grin spread across his face.
"Well, that's a far cry from please don't come over here." He chuckled at his own witticism.
"Oh," she stammered, thinking fast as she replied, "it's just that I'm trying to quit before I get home. If Mom and Dad knew I smoked, they'd have a coronary." She did the best impression of a misguided youth as her inexperience would allow.
"Well, you seem to be doing a good job of it, cause you haven't even taken a drag yet."
Hearing this, she self-consciously inhaled an overtly large amount of smoke, and immediately began to cough.
Zach laughed and said, "You must not have been a heavy smoker before." With this, he kindly removed the foul thing from her grasp and crushed it unceremoniously against the wall.
She stiffened at the sound of footsteps behind her. She could hear the unmistakable sound of a gun holster hitting a hip and the jingle of the handcuffs secured firmly at the approaching officer's waist. She could feel the fingers of cold hard dread inching up her spine as she felt the hot breath of the officer against the nape of her neck. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a gruff voice asked, "Hey kids, have you seen this person?"
She turned slowly, keeping her eyes glued to the ground in an attempt to avoid eye contact. In doing so, she was unable to see the picture. Thankfully, the officer did not become suspicious. He just abruptly shoved the photo in her down-turned face, and asked again, "Have you seen this girl? She's a runaway and her mother's very concerned. We have reason to believe she's traveling by bus to California to live with her Dad."
"No, man, we didn't see her, but did it occur to you that she might have good reasons for wanting to live with her dad?" Zach remarked stridently.
Kat groaned out loud, her heart racing, pleading inwardly for Zach to shut up. Staring at the officer surreptitiously from under the brim of her baseball cap, she noticed to her chagrin that the officer's expression had turned from impatience to anger. He was being baited by her new friend. In order to avoid more conflict, she spoke up with a voice so clouded with fear that she hardly recognized it.
"Now Honey, can't you see that the nice officer is just trying to do his job? No Sir, we haven't..."
Zach, seeming not to notice her term of endearment, interrupted her before she could finish the statement that she had hoped would bring an end to her perilous circumstance, "We've got nothing to say to you."
The officer looked shocked. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he asked abruptly, "What's your name, Son?"
"I'm not your son," Zach spit out.
Kat wanted to scream. Her freedom was in jeopardy, and this young man was intentionally baiting the person who could deny her it.
"His name's Zach and I'm Kat." She extended her hand toward the officer, at the same time focusing all her energy on stopping its obvious vibration. "I apologize for Zach. It's been a long trip and he's a bear when he doesn't get his beauty sleep. Like I said, we haven't seen her. Sorry, but I think our bus is leaving. We'd better be going."
The officer took her sweaty palm in his, seeming not to notice.
"Come on, the bus is loading. Looks like it's time to leave," she said through gritted teeth, whilst wrapping her arm around her annoying new friend's shoulders. When she felt the unnerving stare of the officer boring a hole in the back of her head, her legs nearly gave out. She resolutely walked towards the bus, waiting with baited breath for him to say something to halt her progress, or for him to suddenly recognize her. She felt like she was trying to walk away from a loaded gun.
Kat ascended the steps of the bus on legs that felt like jelly. She felt lightheaded. It took her a moment to realize that she was forgetting to breathe. When she heard the whoosh of the bus doors as they closed, she let out a whoosh of her own. At this point, it was Zach who was guiding her. She barely remembered being introduced to his ten-year-old brother Connor, and graciously turning down the offer to sit with them. She heard Zach explain, as if from a dense fog, that he was taking his brother to live with his father. It seemed his mother had gotten involved with an abusive drug addict. This at least explained his recent behavior. She genuinely felt sympathetic. She knew what it was like to be let down. But in order to avoid having to make idle chitchat for the remainder of the trip, she feigned a headache, and told them she just needed a little catnap.
Hearing her words, Connor laughingly said, "Kat needs a catnap." She smiled weakly at his attempted humor, but her heart wasn't in it.
Kat made her way precariously down the aisle, taking the seat that Rachel had once occupied and placing her bag on the floor. She would reach her destination twenty-four hours from now. Once there, she would set her plan in motion. She would find a place to live and buy a pair of brown contacts. Then her transformation would be complete. She would begin her new life. Kat was determined not to accept her fate as Rachel had once done. If she was to go down this time, she would go down fighting.
Thanks for reading. Weird this chapter seems to have unintentional paragraph indents. Curiousier and curiouser. I hope you guys liked the video and now you know why it's Kat and Dare's story and not Rachel and Dare's. She's taken on a new identity to seek her revenge. Please if you like it don't be shy let me know. Thanks Deborah
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top