Paying the Price Read online

  ‘Okay, you’ve lost me.’

  I was sure I’d already mentioned this at some point. I mean, I’d known Tess for almost a year. Surely the fact that I came from a single-parent household would’ve come up. Therapists love that crap.

  ‘My mom left shortly after I was born-’

  ‘Who told you that?’ she cut in. Okay, we were both lost. And I did not like wherever the hell this was going. I quickly shared a look with George.

  ‘My dad?’

  Who else?

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Alright, what’s going on?’ I asked bluntly.

  She opened her mouth, about to say something or chew a fly, and then decided against both.

  ‘I think that’s something you should ask your father,’ she said gently.

  ‘I’m asking you. If you know something about my mom that I don’t-’

  ‘You should ask your father, Ann. It’s not really my place to say,’ she attempted, but I was not having that.

  ‘No, it is. As my therapist, you have a duty of care. If my father’s lied to me about my mom, why would he tell me the truth now? Please, Doctor. I want to know.’

  For once in her life, she did not reply with the automatic “please, call me Tess.” Instead, she took another look at the pills, frowned again and cleared her throat.

  ‘Your mom did not leave when you were born, Ann. You were six years old.’

  3

  ‘That’s not true,’ I quickly replied, at the same thinking wait, was it?

  No, it can’t be. That’s ridiculous. I think I’d remember having a mom until I was... whoa, hang on. Didn’t lucies start turning up around that time?

  Ugh, why did I seem to be more messed up than I’d originally thought?

  ‘Why don’t I remember her?’ I asked, since she’d decided not to reply to being called a liar.

  ‘Only you can answer that, Ann.’

  Wow. Pay her the big bucks to treat yourself. Alright.

  ‘Do you know why she left, or do I have to answer that, too?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I knew more. You don’t remember her at all?’

  Well, I didn’t think I did. I’d seen pictures of her, of course. Blonde, beautiful, beaming. Everything I wasn’t, really. Unfortunately for me, I looked more like Tess. Brunette, boring, bleurgh. But actually remember her? Like emotionally, or in memories? I don’t know. It’s weird, but I didn’t think I could. I’d never really had to think about a memory before. And I wasn’t even thinking of one specific memory. I was trying to go back to my childhood, thinking of parties and play dates but I didn’t even know if they’d happened or not. I kept imagining a rocking horse, but did I have one? That seemed pretty weird to have in the 21st century.

  Nope, totally befuzzled out.

  ‘No. Not at all. I’ve heard stories of her, seen pictures of her, but never thought I’d been properly introduced.’

  She brought out her old friend, the grimace.

  ‘And your father told you that she left you as a baby?’

  ‘Yes-’ I stopped.

  Did he?

  Oh my God, I can’t even trust my memory for anything, now. I mean, he must’ve said that because why else would I think that? I didn’t make it up. Did I? No, I wouldn’t have. Why would I?

  Did I?

  ‘Are you alright, Ann?’

  Nope.

  ‘Sure. It’s a little overwhelming, is all. I guess I must’ve... forgotten,’ I finished lamely. You know, casually forgetting your parent, like you do.

  ‘You seemed very sure of yourself.’

  ‘Well, that’s puberty for you. Can we talk about something else?’ I asked, as George cringed at the p-word.

  ‘We can come back to this, yes.’ Damn it. ‘I do have one question I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you stop coming to our sessions seven months ago?’

  Oh, yikes. I’d been hoping she wasn’t going to ask, because this was heading into dangerous territory. And I knew that George was going to find out something I’d rather he didn’t.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t exactly tell the bookshelf to leave the room. Oh, well. The house was already on fire. Might as well throw some gasoline into the mix.

  ‘I was going through a difficult time,’ I euphemized.

  ‘That’s usually the time you’d increase visits to a therapist, not stop them altogether,’ she noted.

  Yeah, well.

  ‘I was grieving. I’d recently lost a friend.’

  George perked his head up and came into my field of vision. I avoided his gaze.

  ‘Tommy?’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Ann. Was she close?’

  ‘Hold up, she doesn’t know that Tommy died?’ he cried. Ooh, just wait.

  ‘Yeah, she was. Very close, actually. I kinda stopped-’

  ‘Wait a minute!’ he yelled. Yup, he’d gotten it. ‘She doesn’t know he lived?!’

  ‘Stopped what?’ Tess asked quietly.

  ‘Seeing people, you know?’ I half-shouted over George’s cries of disbelief. She jumped, and I had to tone it down. Which was hard, because then I couldn’t hear myself and this is where I start looking insane. Not good when you’re trying to argue against getting brain candy. ‘I kind of felt like it was pointless getting to know somebody, only for them to suddenly leave, as it were.’

  She asked me something, and I couldn’t hear her over George. I tried my hand at lip-reading. She was either asking if I was the Press or a guest. Okay, rhyming powers, activate! Mess, less, best, depressed-

  Ah, probably that.

  ‘A little,’ I hedged, after I’d uncomfortably stared at her lips. ‘I mean, she was the only friend I’d ever had.’

  ‘Were you suicidal?’ she asked. Thankfully, George had stopped his screeching so I got that loud and clear. Well, quiet and clear.

  ‘No, not at all,’ I said, a little too cheerfully. ‘I was just... numb.’

  Still am.

  ‘You’ve never told me about her. Why is that?’

  ‘I haven’t told you a lot of things,’ I replied. Probably the wrong thing to say to a therapist.

  ‘Whatever you say in this room, will stay in this room, Ann. You are under no obligation to tell me anything you feel uncomfortable with, but that is what I’m here for.’

  ‘I wasn’t uncomfortable, per se. I just never thought to mention him.’

  She perked up slightly as I felt like banging my head on the desk. See, this is why I don’t talk to her. She gets in my head and makes me say things I had no intention of ever saying out loud. I’d planned on coming on here today to get my pills and leave, and now I’d uncovered a family secret and told her about Tommy and Izzy was outside the window, looking at me.

  Izzy was outside the window.

  Looking at me.

  Oh, crap, crap and double crap.

  You remember Izzy, right? I’d mentioned her once or twice. She was a lucy who’d been murdered, obviously, and I’d tried to find evidence against her killer, which was pretty difficult. Hence why she’s still a lucy. It was difficult because-

  No, I’m sorry, this is going to have to wait a couple minutes. Tess was asking me about the “him.”

  ‘Was he a boyfriend, Ann?’

  ‘No, he was not. He was older. Like, my dad’s age.’

  Ooh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Okay, I was seventeen and technically there’d be nothing wrong with that, if that did happen, but you know. Ugh.

  I blamed Izzy. Who was still watching. Or my dad. Who was waiting for my call.

  Or George, who finally noticed what I was staring at, and phased through the window to chat. Finally, Tess and I were alone and I could concentrate on not doing anything else utterly stupid.

  ‘He was a cop,’ I hastily explained before she started bringing the therapy dolls out. ‘I met him on a... well, you know what I do. I met him while I was doing that. And we talked a little, and kept in touch, and then I found out h
e died on the job.’

  That is the quickest and coldest way I’d ever summed up Tommy’s death. I was this close to talking about it fully, and properly, but since Izzy had bizarrely popped up, I kinda had other fish to fry. Particularly because the last time we’d spoken, I’d told her not to come back unless her killer had killed again. It was the only way I could find new evidence.

  So, I guess somebody else’s bucket had been kicked for them. Wasn’t my life great? Didn’t you envy me right now?

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Ann. It must’ve hit you pretty hard.’

  I made a noise that could be best described as “meh” and shrugged. Bada bing, bada boom. What are ya gonna do?

  ‘Did you speak to your father about it at all?’

  Yeah, that would’ve gone down well. Hey Dad, my best friend is old enough to be your best friend. My dad’s accepting of a lot of things, but I think he’d draw the line there.

  ‘No, not really. And you know what? I am all talked out today. I have a lot to think about, so I kinda want to just go home, you know? It was a lot for my first session back.’

  She stared at me for what felt like an hour, but was probably only like, three seconds.

  ‘Alright,’ she finally said, nodding slightly. Thank God for that. I could see Izzy and George talking pretty animatedly and I could see another lucy standing off to one side. All I could tell was that she was a girl.

  And there was something familiar about her.

  Boy, I loved meeting lucies I’d known in life.

  ‘Your medication,’ Tess went on, nudging them back toward me, ‘must be taken orally one a day, once a day.’

  ‘Orally? That’s a relief,’ I interjected. She stared at me.

  Apparently laughter wasn’t the best medicine.

  Then, she went on to list the various entertaining and totally fun side effects I may or may not encounter. I totally listened to all of it.

  ‘You can take one now.’

  She watched as I opened the container and popped one in my mouth, waiting until I swallowed.

  ‘Want me to show you my tongue, or is that okay?’ I asked. She shook her head. Awesome. I should’ve faked it instead of actually taking it.

  ‘Great, I’ll see you next week, unless the pills paralyze me,’ I muttered, attempting to escape.

  ‘Will you be coming back to group therapy again?’

  ‘Not unless you make me. I think it was painful for all of us.’

  That, she agreed with. I do not mix well with people, something you may have realized, if you aren’t an imbecile. See what I mean? I don’t even know you, and I still do it.

  ‘Right. There is something you should know, in case you see anyone again,’ she said, clearing her throat.

  Not something I was planning to ever do, if I was honest. And I usually was.

  ‘Uh-huh?’ I mumbled anyway, as I glanced back out the window, making sure they were all still there. They were, and I managed to catch a real glimpse of the mystery lucy.

  And I suddenly had to swallow my shock as I knew exactly what Tess was going to tell me.

  ‘A couple weeks ago, there was an awful incident. There’s no easy way of saying this, but Leesha was attacked. She didn’t make it.’

  Yup, that was one way of putting it.

  4

  Here’s where my acting skills really need to come into play. You see, I don’t react to death like most people. I’m not one for grieving, with the obvious exception of Tommy. When I hear of a death, it usually fills me with dread, not sadness. Because then I’m waiting to see them as a lucy. Since the vast majority of lucies were taken suddenly, i.e. murder, I always hope for natural causes. Cancer? I love cancer! It gives everyone a chance to get used to the news. Dementia, Alzheimer’s? Again, love ’em. In fact, I love all terminal or long illnesses, I think they’re great. I never get any lucies due to those.

  Then, we come to murder.

  Wonderful.

  Especially when the murderee is folding her arms and glaring at you through the window. Yeah, we hadn’t really gotten along, Leesha and I. Actually, I hadn’t gotten along with any of them. Surprising, I know. Since Tess knew that, I couldn’t exactly pretend that I was super distraught. Equally, couldn’t exactly let on that I knew she was dead five seconds before she told me.

  Partly because that would sound like a major lie.

  ‘My God, that’s awful,’ I said, managing to sound pretty freaking robotic.

  Okay, so I don’t actually have any acting skills. And Leesha’s glassy stare was putting me off.

  ‘I know you didn’t see eye to eye, Ann, but Leesha didn’t deserve what happened to her,’ Tess frowned, clearly disappointed with my response.

  ‘No, I know! It’s truly horrible. I’m really sorry for her family,’ I said, continuing to speak in 1s and 0s.

  ‘That’s kind of you to say so.’

  Wow, patronizing much? Giving me a pat on the back for attempting to be a human.

  ‘Thanks. I think I’m just in shock,’ I explained to the medical professional. She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll see you next week, Doctor.’

  I quickly left before she could tell me anybody else had died.

  Out in the lobby, I was alone and could finally breathe.

  Whew, what a morning.

  Screw my mom for a second. Wait, not like that. But she’s not important right now. Leesha was.

  Ugh, Leesha.

  Talisha, her name was. Talisha... huh, what was her last name? Did I ever know? Was it important? Nope, moving on. Talisha had anger issues, if my memory did want to be correct for once. It stemmed from her ADHD or something. She’s naturally pretty talkative, so she wasn’t diagnosed for a long time. Everybody thought she was acting up. She was called stupid a lot by kids, and implied it by teachers. She knew she wasn’t, so she got kinda violent in retaliation.

  So far, we’re pretty similar, right?

  Still, we managed to clash pretty darn well. She assumed I was a liar like everybody else, so I said if I was a liar, then she was stupid. Things got heated. Every single week. For about a month, anyway. Then, I put everybody out of their misery and told Tess I didn’t want to go anymore. Presumably, everyone’s A-Okay now.

  Or not, since Leesha was murdered. You win some, you lose some.

  I started to head out to meet her when I remembered she wasn’t alone.

  Izzy was there, too.

  Yikes, Izzy. Izzy’s surname I did know. Izzy Turner. She was killed by a guy at her school. He strangled her the day after prom and he was never seen as a suspect, never mind convicted.

  Pretty romantic in a weird way, right? Sure, if I forget to mention a few facts. Like the fact that she’d argued with her boyfriend at prom, and he was arrested and charged with her murder. And the fact that I’d done nothing at all whatsoever to clear his name. And let’s not forget the reason I did that: I’m sympathizing with the killer, here.

  Too much? Alright, let’s back up a little.

  The year is 1985. Prom night is in full swing and our hero, David Luis Schaffer, has been voted Prom King. He is excited and surprised, to say the least. Little background on David. He’s the leader and only occupant of the AV club, has terrible hygiene and no friends. He is constantly bullied and hazed by his peers, especially the two ringleaders: violent jerkwad Chuck Manning, and his bitchy girlfriend, Elizabeth “Izzy” Turner.

  Yeah, that’s where I’m going with this.

  Prom night might’ve ended in death and jail for Izzy and Chuck respectively, but they’d kinda brought it on themselves. You remember that David was voted Prom King? Well, you should do, I said it, like, two seconds ago. Anyway, he was voted that thanks to a huge hushed-up campaign by Izzy. It culminated in them taking the stage, and her pretending to slow dance with him. In reality, she loosened his belt and pulled down his pants.

  Both of them.

  Humiliated and most definitely scarred for life, a half-naked David tried to make a qu
ick exit. That’s where his peers came in to help.

  Help Izzy, I mean.

  They spilled all their punch on the floor to make it extra slippery, and whatever they had left was thrown over David. Streamers and toilet paper came flying down from the ceiling to stick to him and embarrass him even more. Teachers came rushing to help him, but like I said, it was slippery. They fell over each other and no amount of shouting or detention threats could stop what was happening. Luckily he wasn’t menstruating or it could’ve gone badly wrong for the student body. Instead, David eventually managed to escape down a corridor, haunted by the sounds of shrieking laughter and the feeling that he was utterly alone.

  Eighties were rough, man.

  That is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to David’s poor school life. He suffered much worse, and you know who told me all this whilst cackling? Izzy.

  See what I mean? She’s a bitch. And even worse than that, she will not take responsibility for what happened. She is fully under the illusion that she is totes the victim, along with Chuck, and it’s all David’s fault for being a loser in the first place.

  I love my gift. I meet such heartwarming and lovely characters.

  I begrudgingly opened the door of the lobby to be confronted by a crossed-arm gang. Leesha, Izzy and George. Oh, great. She’d gotten to him first.

  ‘Izzy,’ I greeted, with all the warmth of a Slurpee.

  ‘David’s killed again. You gonna help me this time?’ she demanded.

  Aww, didn’t she just make you feel sorry for her?

  ‘Nah, probably not,’ I decided, folding my arms, too. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

  ‘Are you kidding, Ann? He strangles teen girls! We have to get him off the streets,’ George cried. I looked around, confused.

  ‘Sir Knight? You’ve lost your stallion,’ I informed him. He groaned.

  ‘Do you even care about anything other than you and your stupid jokes?’

  ‘Yes, I care about David, whose life was ruined thanks to her.’

  ‘He’s a murderer!’

  ‘And she’s a bitch,’ I pointed out, whipping out my cell.

  ‘Who are you texting?’ he accused.

  David, obviously.