"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 TWO

Mama and Richard were always so loving towards one another. He loved to take her out to fancy dinners and to plays. He did a lot with Kit and myself when we were younger, but most of the time, he and Mama went out for a night alone. Now they didn't even bother to ask us if we wanted to join. I could understand about them not asking me. I wouldn't go. I didn't care to go. They knew that. But my mother knew how much Kit loved plays and acting. She loved to watch movies. She wanted to be an actress more than anything else in the world. And they never invited her to join them. They wanted their alone time. Sometimes I was sure my mother forgot she still had an underage daughter.
    I didn't hate Mama and Richard. I just didn't understand them. Richard didn't know how to be a father. That was always clear. He made an attempt, but he always just wanted Mama to himself. I think Mama liked somebody doting completely on her. And since both Kit and I had become so independent, or rather more dependent on one another, she liked to just let herself slip into the world of the spoiled. We acted as if we didn't need her, so she acted the same. It was how our world worked.
    Selfishness was a major part of our world. Something happened to all of us during that horrible ordeal, and we all became an "every man for himself" sort of family. Sure, I protected Kit, and even Mama and Richard, but they all could, and did, take care of themselves. If one of us were to drop off the face of the earth and die tomorrow, we'd all get over it quickly. Death was something that was expected, so therefore, who honestly cared? It happened, after all.
    We did love each other. We honestly did. But we had a hard time expressing that feeling. Besides, going on with our own lives and basically ignoring everyone else in the house was easier. If we didn't need, or really remember, each other, then when that person died, we'd live on. Death is what had got us into this mess, anyway. The death of my daddy killed a part in all of us, making us fear losing one another. In most families, that would make them closer. In my family, it merely tore us apart.
    When I decided to finally go downstairs to see if dinner was finished, I heard Kit talking to our mother about being in the play. Her voice was full of excitement and happiness. How could one be so enthusiastic after the way she has suffered? I wondered to myself. After all, he had raped and beaten both of us. The poor girl hadn't even started her period yet, and he'd raped her. I wanted to kill the bastard.
    Nobody ever mentioned his name. It was like some horrible sin to utter the word psychiatrist in this house. If anyone had a mental problem, none of us knew it. Of course, not all psychiatrists and doctors were like that, but who could tell one from the other? Why take the chance? I only went to the doctor when I absolutely needed to. But never, never a psychiatrist. I feared even to see a building where one worked at.
    I walked into the kitchen where Mama was cooking dinner and Kit was talking as fast as an auctioneer. "Take a breath, Kit!" I said.
    She laughed and took a deep breath. "Okay. Sorry, Gabby." She shook her head, a smile on her face. "I'm just so excited. I really wanted this part and I got it! Do you think I'm pretty enough for it?"
    I smiled and hugged her. "Of course you are, Kit. No other girl in that school could ever be as beautiful as you are."
    Her smile widened. "Do you really think so? Do you think so, Mama?" Her eyes were lit up as if they had candles behind them.
    "Yes, Kit. Gabby is very right. Nobody in that whole school would fit the part as perfectly as you do." I winced inwardly at the word "perfectly". Why did everything have to be perfect?
    "I'll help you practice for it, if you want me to, Kit," I offered. I wasn't truly much of an actress, but I often liked to help Kit learn her lines.
    As always, she couldn't wait to accept my offer. "Can we work right away?" she asked, jumping to her feet.
    "Whoa, there, girls. You both need to eat dinner first," Mama said. We both sat down and ate. All three of us ate in complete silence. Richard was working an hour over his usual time. Not that we ever spoke when he was there, either. We all chose to ignore that there was something wrong in our perfect family.
    Kit was just leaving my room after I'd helped her practice when Mama showed up at the door. She told us quickly that Richard was taking her to see a movie. We both said our okays. Kit left my room and I was more than happy to let everyone leave me be. Tonight I would go searching for that letter that had been sent to Mama. My heart beat in anticipation. I wanted nothing more to read it. It could give me answers to why my mother acted so strangely at times.
    It was about a half hour after my mother left that I sneaked into hers and Richard's bedroom. I did feel a little bad about it, but families weren't supposed to keep secrets from one another. So I took it into my hands to keep the secrets from being there.
    The room was familiar to me, of course. It was the room, the master bedroom. It was the room Richard had given up so Mama could be absolutely comfortable. No worries about us being comfortable, though I did love the almost exotic, peaceful look of my bedroom. Mama told me that the bedroom I had now was the bedroom she had awaken to find herself in not long before she found Kit and me.
    As I looked around the room, surveying everything that I already knew was there; I started to think about my family. Not only my family, but also the reason Mama seemed so different after we all made it through being nearly killed. I sat on Mama and Richard's bed and ran my hand over the thick, black-and-red comforter that lay there. How often I was scared when we first moved here. I feared ever trusting Richard. But even I had to admit I knew he would never try to kill us. Ignore Kit and myself maybe, but that was only because he didn't know what else to do with us. We weren't his children. If we were, maybe things would be different.
    I sighed. Maybe Mama had pulled away from us so much because of the fear that she could lose us again. In a way, she had lost us already. When we had got back into being a semblance of a family, Kit and I were both very different. As was Mama. And maybe that was because she felt that she had lost us completely. When once my mother had wanted more children, after losing three, she no longer wanted to have them. I think - no, actually, I know - that the thing with the psychiatrist didn't just mess with my head, or Kit's head, it messed with our mother's as well.
    As I sat on their bed, never in my life had I ever felt so lonely. Or at least been able to admit to myself that it was loneliness I was feeling. I was craving something that I could never have. I wanted family, and my family was already set in their ways. Starting my own was out of the question. I was truly a freak; nobody could ever love me. And how could I ever come to trust a stranger enough to marry one?
    I let out a frustrated cry and pushed myself away from the bed. I hated when my thoughts got off track. I had come in here to look for that letter, not dawdle and wish for happy endings that didn't exist. Sometimes I secretly wished that good ol' Dr Calvin had gone ahead and just murdered us, at least me. That way I wouldn't have to worry about normality.
    I let the tears trace a line down my cheeks. I cried silently to myself, as I often did. I was miserable. I was bitter. I was distrustful. I was scared. Fear was what brought on all of the other emotions. I was scared of being hurt again. Dr Calvin had hurt me physically and emotionally. He had taken away my family. And all of it just because my daddy had died and Mama had insisted on getting help for Kit, and then me. Death was something that happened to everyone; most people said it was cold. But to me, death had burned a fire hotter than ever. I truly felt as if I were in Hell. Maybe a Hell of my own making.
    Suddenly, guilt overcame me and I ran from their room. I felt as if somebody was watching me and telling me not to do it. Was it truly worth it? It would probably only tear my family apart more so. Did I need that? Did it really matter? I slapped my hands over my ears and leaned against the bedroom door. Why were there so many questions? I just wanted to be free of it all, and I wasn't!
    My mind was in a battle now. Part of me was saying to walk away. Telling me that I'd only make things worse. Whatever was in that letter was meant to be kept a secret. It was none of my business.
    Then the other part of me was screaming that it had everything to do with me. It was telling me that looking might make things worse, but it might also open doors. It was urging me strongly to go back in the room. I shook my head against the voices telling me to go back in. I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do it. Why make things that were so in order in my life go completely haywire just because I was curious? Sure, it wasn't the life some people would want to lead, but it was my life. Everyone else was comfortable in it, even if I wasn't.
    And what about Kit? If it did make things go horrible, if there was something to be kept secret inside, what would happen if Kit found out? I didn't want to hurt Kit. Kit had been through enough in her life as it was. She was too young for what she had been through, already. And if I were to make things worse for her, I'd never forgive myself.
    But, then again, what about me? What if that letter had something to do with me? In the deepest pit of my heart, I knew that it had something to do with me. I didn't understand the feeling, but it was there. And it was urging me on.
    I didn't get to make the decision. I heard the doorbell ring and confused, frustrated, yet relieved, I made my way to the front door. When I opened it, there stood a family that I had only seen in pictures. Mama had lost contact with them long ago. But I knew who they were. I'd been told. This was my mother's stepmother, her husband and her mother's daughter that was born from an affair with a much younger man. There was another young woman with them, too. "Hello!" the oldest woman said, smiling. "I'm your grandmother, dear. And I've finally found the family and we all came to visit."
    My stomach began to do flip-flops. What on earth was this all about? "Um, hi. My mother isn't here right now. My stepfather and she went to see a movie. My sister, Kit, is asleep. And I'm afraid I'm not much company." I wanted them to just leave. I didn't trust this little family. I didn't trust anybody. Especially people that showed up at your front door in the middle of the night.
    "Well, dear, do you have enough room for us? I'll just wait up for your mother and father to get home," my step-grandmother said. She looked remarkably young. Of course, when I had first seen a picture of her, I thought she was no more than twenty-something, but Mama had assured me that she was much older than that.
    "Stepfather," I corrected. "We have two guestrooms. If they," I nodded towards the two young women, "don't mind sharing a room."
    I was sure I had them there, when the red-haired young woman look annoyed and disgusted. The darker haired one, smiled brightly. But neither of them answered. My step-grandmother replied for them. "Of course they wouldn't!" she said, slapping her hands together in happiness. "Go get our stuff, Damian," she said to her young husband.
    I showed them to their room and showed Karen, which she insisted I call her, where she could sit and wait for Mama and Richard to return. Then I turned around and made my way back upstairs to my bedroom. I was exhausted and as soon as I got to my room and onto my bed, my eyes were sealed shut.
    When I woke the next "morning", at least one in the afternoon was morning to me; I made my way down the stairs. I had forgot about people even being here. Until I walked into the living room to see Mama and Richard speaking with Karen and Damian. How sick, I thought to myself. Damian wasn't much older than Mama and he was considered my step-grandfather. I shrugged my shoulders and walked into the room, running my fingers through my black, shoulder-length hair.
    "Well, good morning, Gabriella," Karen said, smiling brightly. It made me wonder if this immature woman ever stopped smiling. "You are most like your mother. Why, she used to stay in bed until the sun was down, I swear. She was like a vampire," she laughed.
    "It wasn't that dramatic," Mama said dryly. "The only time it was ever like that was when we were in Wisconsin."
    "Oh, yes, that's right," Karen said.
    My eyes widened in surprise. My mother had lived in Wisconsin? I decided to ask. "When did you live in Wisconsin? Why?"
    "Well, you see, I had got myself into horrendous trouble back in our hometown and needed to start anew. So I convinced my husband at the time, your real grandfather, to move us to Wisconsin. Why, your mother was most miserable there," Karen answered. I looked at Mama. Why hadn't she told me about that? But then again, Mama hadn't told me much of her childhood.
    "It wasn't a good time for me and I choose not to remember it," Mama said, as if reading my mind.
    "When was a good time for you, Mama?" I asked her. I was honestly curious. As far as I knew, my mother's life had been Hell and had never been any different. She never really talked about happy times. She didn't really talk much about the bad times, either.
    She smiled. She shot a look over to Richard and then back to me. "That is something I'll tell you later, Gabby."
    I simply shrugged. "Did you ever meet anyone in Wisconsin?"
    Karen, who seemed to like to butt in, couldn't wait to open her mouth. "Well, my nephew, Josh, did come to live with us until we moved back to California. They were awfully close. So close I almost told them that they weren't really related."
    Josh. Mama had been close with the man that had helped the lovely psychiatrist along. Only Josh hadn't meant to hurt us. Just take us away from Mama and hurt her. But Mama must have been remembering what I was because her eye went wide and glassy. "Mother, please. I don't want to remember that or anyone from that time." She looked pointedly at Damian, her eyes dark.
    The conversation and the secrets that hung in the air amongst us all made me want to run up stairs and into their room to read that letter. I was suddenly not concerned about Kit and what it would do to her. There were secrets in this family, and I wanted to find out exactly what was going on. What wasn't being told to me? Was it about me? I decided that as soon as they left to go do something, I would go find that letter.
    This time I didn't feel bad as I sneaked down the hall to their room. I had kept to my room all day long, thinking about where Mama would hide it. I had yet to meet the two young women that had joined Karen and Damian. I honestly didn't care to. They were just more family that I didn't know much about.
    Unfortunately, I was intercepted again. It only aggravated me this time. But I decided that I would definitely have to wait until these people were gone to go sneaking into my mother's room.
    The red-haired young woman that stopped me annoyed me. She was about two years older than me. She was very beautiful, looking an incredible amount like her father, Damian. She stopped me in the hall; her eyes looking tired as if she had just woke up. "Is your mother anywhere around?" she asked. "I slept all day because I was tired and I haven't got to see her."
    "You don't know her; why do you care to see her?" I snapped.
    "Well, I do sort of know her. She took care of me for the first six months of my life. You see; she pretended to be my mother until my real mother decided to divorce her husband and marry my daddy. I was just curious about seeing Phoenix," she said.
    My mouth dropped to the floor. Why had Mama pretended to mother this woman? She couldn't have been much more than sixteen when she was born. "She almost raised you?"
    She nodded. "Yes. My name is Julianna. They call me Julie, though. But yes, she was supposed to raise me. She would have, had she and my daddy not come to visit Mother and your grandfather. But things changed."
    "How was she supposed to raise? How did she pretend to be your mother?" My heart was pounding in anticipation of the answer.
    "Mother told me that she and Daddy had an affair and she became pregnant. She and Phoenix were very close, so your mother offered to pretend to be the pregnant one and supposedly run away. Mother sent her here, to live with her uncle and her step-aunt." She said it so simply, as if she wasn't revealing to me a part of my mother's past.
    And all I could do was stare at her. Mama had never told me why she had come to live with her great-uncle and his wife. She had simply told me that there were certain circumstances that made her leave. But never in my life had I been told that my mother was supposed to raise her own mother's illegitimate child. And if I hadn't been told that, just how much of the past had I not been told about? And how much of it dealt with me?

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

Back to Home