"BURN OF DEATH" by Sarah Ryniker

STORY LAST UPDATED ON 20/06/2002

Burn of Death Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

I was nineteen years old. I had finished school, but I hadn't gone to college. I had no reason to. Why bother when my family was rich? I didn't truly want a career. No, I'd rather sit in my house where I felt safe. And yet I didn't truly feel safe in my own home. Though it was better than being outside of it. Then I really felt unsafe. I would have anxiety attacks. But I refused to go see a psychiatrist for it. Wasn't that the reason I had become who I had? No, thank you. No doctors for me.
    The strange thing about it all was how Kit, my sister, could get over it so easy. Considering that she had trusted the man and he had done what he had, how could she simply just throw it from her mind? I think that maybe I am just jealous because I couldn't get over it and she could. She went on with her life.
    Kit was seventeen now, and so beautiful. I wasn't jealous of my sister's beauty. She was one of the only people I could confide in. I had been close to her before, but after being kidnapped and nearly killed, we had become closer. She was going to graduate in a year and go to college. I feared when she would leave me. But I was also very proud of who she had become. She was always optimistic and happy. She looked forward to the morning sun, while I preferred to stay in bed with the blankets yanked over my head. I rarely ever got out of my pyjamas.
    I often went out into the cemetery to visit my father. Not this stepfather of mine, but my blood daddy. I would stand before the large headstone and read over and over again what it said. Mama still owned the lands, though she had sold the house and some of the lands surrounding it. She had made sure to keep the cemetery.
    As I stood before it now, reading the words aloud, sadness filled my heart. I couldn't help but be miserable, knowing that if he hadn't died, we would never have met that evil, heartless man. Nothing would ever have happened.
    "Here lies Jacob Scott Weston. A very happy man, with everything a man could wish for. A very loved father and husband." I scoffed at the husband part. Somehow I didn't believe she could truly have loved him. After all, Daddy hadn't even got cold in his grave when she had started to like the doctor. And I knew she'd had feelings for him before the whole ordeal had happened.
    Daddy hadn't been gone incredibly long when she had married the fantastic, heroic Detective Fieldman. Yes, I did appreciate and love him for what he had done to help my family, but I hated him for being with my mother. I hated to seem them happy together. I wanted them to be miserable together. I hated her, and him, for being so damned happy. How could they so easily get over everything and go on with their lives? It hurt me, knowing that she could forget the most wonderful man in the world. It made me want to hurt her back.
    I felt eerily comfortable in the cemetery. Maybe it was because I felt truly dead to the world. I felt as if I belonged here. That thought did give me the creeps and I would often leave sooner than I wanted to. But then again, I knew the thought was wrong. I had felt safe and secure in the cemetery since the day we'd put my father into the ground below. In fact, I'm sure my mother didn't know, but I had sneaked out that night. I had slept on top of his freshly dug grave, in spite of the raging storm around me.
    I knew she had thought Kit had taken my father's death harder than I did. She still thought that. How untrue it was. Kit took it very hard, but I took it even worse. But I kept my feelings all bottled up inside, afraid to be the weak one. Mama was always saying that her girls were strong. When Kit began to prove her wrong, I wanted only to prove her right. Now I didn't care.
    As I turned to leave the cemetery, I saw a car driving up fast. The stereo inside was blaring music that I didn't think anyone could understand. Well, until the group of people from my high school came past, singing along just as loudly. I shook my head. We had been out of school for over a year now, and they still acted like a bunch of immature morons. Did it surprise me? Not even close.
    I was used to seeing these people drive past the cemetery. Somebody I knew from school had moved into the house not long after Mama had sold it. I hated to see this girl in what was my home. But then again, I never wanted to step foot into that evil place again. It held memories for me that was unbearable.
    I was hoping that the group of morons hadn't spotted me, but unfortunately they did. They stopped, turned down the stereo and started going in reverse. I walked quickly away, trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
    Just as I knew they would, yet had falsely hoped they wouldn't, they caught up with me. I didn't stop, but they followed me in reverse. Nobody said anything; they just stared at me. I wasn't some freak show to be stared at, but I wasn't one to start arguments. I preferred to keep my quiet, and forget what was going on around me. Who I had inherited that from was beyond me. It certainly wasn't from either of my parents.
    "Hey, Freak!" one of the guys in the car called out. There were two boys in the car and four girls sitting in the back of the convertible. They were sitting above the seats and I, having evil, mean thoughts, secretly hoped that their long blonde hair would get caught upon a tree branch and they would all be ripped from the speeding car. All of them were blonde, except the boys. All of the girls were incredibly tall, too. Their long legs stuck out "seductively", or so they thought seductively when they merely looked like whores to me, from beneath miniskirts that hardly hit their thighs.
    I simply shook my head and continued my journey across and out of the graveyard. I refused to respond to it. Only people as immature as my mother went crazy and attacked. Ignoring it was the best way to get rid of somebody. Plus, it only angered them more. And that was truly a goal, wasn't it? It wasn't mine; I simply didn't want to fight. I only wanted to live my life and get it over with. Why did the world have to be run over with a bunch of arrogant jackasses, anyway?
    "Come on, Freak. Answer us. I got a question for ya!" one of the boys said, standing up.
    I watched him and the others, all laughing and looking completely stupid, out of the corner of my eye. "One I'm not answering," I muttered loud enough for them to hear. I began to walk a little bit faster.
    "Oh, come on. Everyone is curious to know!" he hollered, laughing like a mad man. "Oh, well, I'll just ask it, anyway." He looked over at all of his buddies and then back to me. "Don't you ever get out of your pyjamas?"
    I kept walking, my head down at the ground, my one eye watching them, my arms wrapped around myself. I was wearing a pair of silk, blue pyjamas with a light pink jacket thrown over them. It was fall and chilly outside. I could feel the wind pushing against the silk of my pyjama pants.
    "Just answer for us, Freak," he said. I could tell the girls were finally getting bored with it. They kept whining about wanting to go. So did the boy driving. But the one standing up chose to keep challenging me.
    I walked on, knowing that the others would get their way and leave. Why did he have to keep pestering me, anyway? Was it that damn amusing? I hated people. Not just the male of the species, but the female as well. They were all morons. I just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn't I be granted that?
    Suddenly the girls in the car shoved the boy standing out. I stopped to watch as he fell out of the car, losing his balance. He fell hard to the ground. The others drove off, yelling at him that he could walk. To my surprise, I laughed. I didn't laugh very often, but it was amusing. He had been annoying to even his buddies.
    After getting my laugh at him, I turned and walked on. I never drove. I never got around to getting my licence. I didn't really want one, anyway. It was a teenager's dream to get their licence and a nice sports car to speed around in, but it had never been mine. But then again, what had been most teens' dreams I had never shared. Most teenagers wished for a perfect family. I only wished that mine didn't pretend to be so perfect.
    "Did you think that was funny?" I heard him yell at me.
    I decided to answer this. I turned back towards him, a smile of amusement on my lips. I nodded. "Yes, actually. I did think that was funny. You're a jackass and deserved it." I then turned and walked away from him. Then, for some reason, I was in a mood to be like my mother, who was always full of witty, rude comments to those that she didn't like. I turned back. "By the way, Jackass, my name is not Freak. My name is Gabriella. Never address me as Freak again."
    "I know what your damn name is," he said, out of breath. He had run to catch up with me. "And my name isn't Jackass. It's Hunter."
    "It's Jackass as far as I'm concerned," I muttered, continuing on my way.
    "Well, then you'll continue to be Freak."
    I laughed again as he said that. He seemed to be upset that he'd introduced to me his real name, and I was only mean to him. "Fine then, Jackass," I said, running away. "Have it your way."
    When I walked into the house, all was quiet. I knew my stepfather was at work. Kit was probably staying after school for some club or play. She was in all of the plays at school and almost always the lead character. Yet another perfection in my house. I was such an outcast compared to their perfection.
    Mama was sitting at the kitchen table, her head bent. She looked to be reading something. Curious about it, I walked over to her. "What's that?"
    She jumped at the sound of my voice. I noticed the letter on the table. The writing was beautiful and very graceful. "It's nothing," she said, trying to hide it from my view.
    "It's a letter. Who is that from?" She seemed so suspicious to me. Was she cheating on my stepfather? I smiled on the inside. My mother definitely wasn't as perfect as she pretended.
    "Nobody you know or should ever know," she told me, her eyes dark. I had got blue eyes from my father's side of the family. I liked my eyes being blue, instead of dark and brooding like my oh-so-perfect Mama.
    "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
    "Don't worry about it, Gabby," she said, turning back around and folding up the letter. She slipped it back into the envelope it had arrived in. "Just don't worry about it."
    She left me there in the kitchen. She seemed to be escaping my inquisition. She knew I'd attack her with a million questions. But why was she running from my questions? What did she have to hide? Somehow I knew that she hid an extreme amount. And I wanted to find out what it was this time. I had to get my hands on that letter. And I planned on doing just that.
    When Kit got home from school, her smile was luminous. She came into my room, knocking only once. I always knew it was Kit by her soft knock. She only knocked one time and the one time sounded so feminine. But everything my sister did was soft and feminine. She had to be the most graceful creature on the face of the earth. And one of the happiest. But she had been a happy-go-lucky person since birth.
    I smiled at her as she entered my room. She skipped over to my bed and sat down. Her eyes, the same blue-violet as our father's, shined. Her auburn hair was brushed in thick, silky waves about her shoulders. She was so beautiful. I liked knowing that she had confidence in herself without being arrogant like most girls her age. Like most girls my age, I thought bitterly.
    "Guess what!" she said, her eyes looking like two beautiful jewels. I raised my eyebrows in question. She was always so enthusiastic. She was the only one who ever forgave me for my lack of enthusiasm. She knew I was happy for her even when I didn't outwardly show it. "Just guess!"
    "Um, the most popular boy in your class asked you to homecoming?" I shrugged helplessly. I really didn't think that would be such a big deal. Kit was one of the most popular girls in her class. She had a chance at being the homecoming queen this year.
    "Well, that did happen, but who really cares about that?" she cried. "I got the lead role in Beauty and the Beast! I get to be Beauty!" she cried.
    It was their first play of the school year, and it was a big deal to her. I was excited for her. "Oh, Kit! That is great!" I said, and hugged her. As I hugged her, I smiled. I was so proud of my little sister. She had so much talent and beauty that I could never have.
    "I haven't told Mama, yet. I wanted to tell you first," she said. I knew Kit secretly harboured feelings of resentment towards our mother because of what had happened to us. She had always come running to me after it all happened. At first, it had bothered Mama, but she soon just accepted that this was how it was going to be. Neither Kit nor me completely trusted our mother anymore. Though Kit did try to. She knew it wasn't really Mama's fault. I, on the other hand, couldn't help blaming her.
    Kit and I sat talking for a while. She was telling me about how she was helping decorate the gym for homecoming. I smiled and nodded. She was so excited about everything going on. She was an amazing young woman. She was going to become an amazing older woman. Enthusiasm ran through her veins. Sometimes she reminded me so much of our father, so much, at times, I would almost burst into tears.
    When she left, I pulled out my journal and wrote in it. Nobody knew of my journal, not even Kit. I kept it secret, because I feared somebody reading what was going through my mind. I feared Mama reading it most of all. For most of my feelings of resentment went towards her. It wasn't my stepfather's fault that my mother married him not long after her husband's death.
    After awhile, I just sat thinking. What kept coming to my mind was the letter my mother had been reading. What was in it? I knew I had to get that letter. I just had to find out where it was first. I was going to ask my mother about it again. That was for sure. Who could it have been from? I couldn't begin to imagine. My heart was pounding in excitement and anxiety. I had a feeling that this letter, who it was from and what it contained, would have a large impact on my life.

Burn of Death Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Epilogue

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