Traces of her, p.1
Traces of Her, page 1
Traces of Her
C.M. Radcliff
Copyright © 2019 C.M. RADCLIFF
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, brands, media and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Due to the graphic nature of this novel, it is not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen.
Cover Design: Cali Radcliff
Editor: Ellie McLove of My Brother’s Editor
Ghosts can’t haunt you,
not when you’ve become one.
Prologue
“You’re kind of fucking creepy, you know that?” Jared gives me a look of disgust.
Like he’s one to talk, fucking psycho.
“Just look at you.” He motions toward me. “You look like a fucking ghost. Your hair’s all white and shit, with your pale ass skin and you’re so tiny, you’re like barely even there. I don’t know what the hell Griffin sees in you.” He gives me a perplexed look. “It’s gotta be the pussy then or something.”
I stay silent, like the ghost that I am. I’ve learned long ago that I’m better off keeping my mouth shut. Especially when you’re stuck in a cabin with someone who is mentally deranged.
Jared strides across the room toward me. “Up you go,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “We’re gonna go for a little walk.” He leads me outside onto the porch, letting the door slam behind us. I look up at the moon that barely lights the outdoors. The woods are almost pitch black, barely making the trees visible. Letting go of me for a moment, Jared turns on his flashlight. He reaches back out for my arm and I swiftly pull it away.
“I can walk on my own,” I tell him.
“Don’t even think about pulling any shit, little girl. I’m not afraid to hurt you.” He smiles. I’ve seen what the man is capable of, I’m not an idiot.
I stare back at him. “Shall we?” I motion toward the woods. Leading the way, he walks down the steps, taking us deeper into the darkness, and I follow behind. We walk for what feels like hours until we reach a rock formation. He shines the light onto what looks like an entrance. “What’s in there?” I ask him.
He looks over at me like I’m stupid. “Obviously, they’re caves.”
What the hell are we doing here?
He starts walking toward the entrance and goes into the caves. Reluctantly, I follow behind him through the dark, narrow hallways. It doesn’t take long until we meet a dead end. I peek around him and see a door made from metal bars. Jared messes around with a lock on the door until it’s free. He pushes it open and grabs ahold of me, pressing his body up against the wall. And in one swift movement, he shoves me into the small enclosure.
I land against the opposing wall and quickly regain my balance. As I spin around, Jared already has the door shut and locked.
“What are you doing?” My voice laces with panic for the first time in years.
“Well, it appears that I’m locking this door.” He looks up and smiles. “And trapping you inside there.”
“Don’t do this,” I tell him. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He nods, rolling his eyes. “I know.”
A sense of terror courses through me.
Not again.
“It’s all up to Griffin now,” he says, giving me one last look. “Fingers crossed he shows up in time.”
With that, he walks away, taking the light farther and farther away, until I’m alone.
Just a ghost; alone in the dark.
One
ROWENA
Ten Years Old
“FIRST ONE BACK TO MY HOUSE WINS!” Maggie yells to me as she races past me on her bike. I push harder on my pedals, willing my bike to move faster. Maggie laughs as she continues to move farther ahead of me. “Come on, slowpoke!”
“That’s not fair,” I call out to her. “Your legs are longer than mine!” I start to sweat while I struggle to keep up with her. My long hair tangles in front of my face as I pick up speed.
We race through our neighborhood down the quiet streets. We’ve lived in the same neighborhood and have been best friends for as long as I can remember. She’s my partner in crime, even though we aren’t into the same things. She loves sports and I love art. She’s the loud one and I’m the quiet one. But those differences don’t keep us apart.
By the time we pass my house, I’m out of breath and we still have another street to go until we reach hers. We keep moving, coming closer to the intersection by her house.
“I’m gonna beat you!” she yells, looking back at me with a huge grin on her face.
I see movement down the street. “Maggie! Watch out!” I yell at her. I see the car before she does as it blows through the stop sign. The tires screech as the driver slams on the brakes. But it’s too late. Maggie screams as the car plows into her. The metal frame of her bike clacks against the front bumper. The force throws her into the air, rolling her up over the hood and into the windshield. The glass shatters as the car comes to a stop and Maggie rolls onto the street with a thud. She lies there, not moving.
I reach the intersection and throw my bike on the ground before even stopping. My feet hit the pavement as I run over to her. The driver of the car, a younger guy, jumps out. I drop to my knees when I reach Maggie. A pool of blood starts to form around her head. Her face, arms, and legs are covered in cuts from the broken glass. “Maggie!” I scream, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. “Wake up!” I glance over to the guy for help. His hands are in his hair and he’s pacing around in circles.
“Oh no,” he chants. “Oh, God. No.” He keeps saying the same thing over and over again. Why isn’t he helping?
“Maggie,” I say, shaking her again. “Please wake up.” She doesn’t move or make a sound. “Mister, please help,” I plead to him as tears start to fall from my eyes.
He looks at me with his eyes wide. “I-I,” he stutters, pulling out his phone, dialing a number. “There’s been an accident.”
I hear a door slam shut, startling me and taking my attention away from the guy. I look over at Maggie’s house on the corner and see her parents racing through the yard. “Rowena! Maggie!” they yell, running toward us. “Oh my God!” Her mom screams when they reach us. She drops down to the ground, lifting up Maggie’s head, cradling it in her arms like a baby. She begins rocking back and forth as she starts sobbing. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll be okay,” she cries over and over again. Maggie’s dad kneels down beside her, stroking her blood-soaked hair.
I take a few steps backward, wrapping my arms around myself. I start to shake as the tears fall faster. The sound of sirens grows closer as an ambulance, fire truck, and police car show up. The ambulance slams on its brakes and the two paramedics scramble out of the vehicle. One opens the back doors, grabbing a medical bag, while the other rushes over toward Maggie. “Ma’am,” he says softly, “I need you to lay her head back down, so I can check her.” Maggie’s mom doesn’t let go.
“Janet.” Her dad grabs her shoulder. “Lay her down.” She nods, and lets out a sob, laying her back down on the road. The paramedic feels her throat, I think to check if she has a pulse. I watch as he flashes a flashlight in her eyes. He looks back up at the other paramedic and slowly closes his eyes, giving him a discreet shake of his head. I watch the other paramedic nod once and walk away, pulling out his phone and taking the bag with him.
Why is he taking the bag? Don’t they need that to save her?
I look around, finally noticing the firemen standing around and two police officers. One of them has the guy who hit Maggie and is turning him around against the car. The female officer walks toward me.
“What’s your name?” she asks sweetly.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, putting on my brave face. “Rowena Petrov.”
“Hi, Rowena. I’m Officer Deitrick,” she explains. “I know this all must be scary for you. Are you hurt or anything?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Did anyone call your parents?”
I shake my head again. I want my parents.
“Can you give me their number to call them?”
In a shaky voice, I tell her their number.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She smiles and dials their number.
“Mrs. Petrov? Hi, my name is Officer Deitrick. I’m calling on behalf of your daughter, Rowena. No, she is fine, she’s okay. There’s been an accident, if you could get here soon. No, she wasn’t injured. Yes, that’s where it is. Thank you, we will see you soon.”
She hangs up the phone and looks back at me. “Your parents will be here very soon,” she says, and I nod. “I wanted to ask you something, but if you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s okay.”
“Okay,” I say. I’m not sure what she wants me to tell her.
She looks over as another car pulls up. “Do you think you can tell me what happened?”
The whole accident plays over in my mind. Racing on our bikes, Maggie getting hit. I tell her everything that happened, finishing just as my parents arrive.
They both run over to me, pulling me into their arms. “Oh, thank God, you’re okay,” my mom cries. My dad hugs me tighter, not saying a word. Suddenly, we hear Maggie’s
I hear a sob caught in my mother’s throat.
My body starts shaking uncontrollably as I start to cry. Sadness consumes my body.
My best friend.
Just like that; gone.
Two
MAGGIE
Thirteen Years Old
I SIT UP IN A RUSH, taking deep breaths. My clothing clings to my skin from my sweat. I’ve had the same nightmare of the accident almost every night for the past two years. I run my hands down my face and then through my hair. My long, white-blonde hair is damp with sweat. I pull it back into a tight ponytail, squinting my eyes in the darkness, looking around the bedroom. The same sickening feeling that I experience every morning builds in the pit of my stomach.
It’s not my room.
The handle of the door rattles as it’s unlocked from the outside. I hear the jingle of keys as the other locks are undone, with the deadbolt being last. The door slowly opens, the bright light blinding me from the hallway.
“Maggie,” Janet says, flipping on the light switch. I cover my eyes with my hands, shielding them from the light. “Breakfast is ready. Get changed and come down to the kitchen.” She leaves the door open and walks back down the hallway; her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my feet barely touch the tan carpet floor. Maggie’s boy band posters still hang on the ugly purple walls. Her drawings are still hung around her desk in the corner. A picture of us sits on her dresser beside the T.V. Everything is in its right place. It’s as if she never left.
And that’s because she never did.
That’s why I’m here.
I became her ghost.
My days have been on repeat since they took me two years ago. It was the first anniversary of her death. My mom asked me to take flowers over to their house. It was late in the evening with the sun slowly beginning to set. Maggie’s parents invited me in. And they never let me back out.
I climb out of bed and grab clothes from Maggie’s closet. Every day I wear her clothes and every night I sleep in her bed. At first, I refused, I slept on the floor, refusing to change out of my own clothing. Quickly I learned that was not acceptable. After my third beating with a belt, I slept in her bed. After six bruised ribs, I wore her clothes. After two times of having my head slammed into the wall while being choked, I became Maggie.
I take Maggie’s seat at the kitchen table and wait silently with my hands on my lap. Janet sets a tray of pancakes and bacon on the table. She takes a seat across from me and smiles at me sweetly. “Phil,” she says to Maggie’s dad, turning around. “Could you grab the syrup please?”
He walks to the table, giving me a kiss on the top of my head. I fight the urge to cringe. He does the same to Janet and takes his seat at the head of the table, between us. He puts his hands on the table, palms up. Janet and I grab his hands, and they close their eyes, bowing their heads. Phil says some bullshit prayer that I don’t care about.
When we finish, I drop his hand and put my hands back on my lap. I look up to Janet staring at me. “You don’t look well, Maggie,” she expresses. Her eyes grow soft. “Are you thinking about Rowena?”
I’m always thinking about Rowena. She may have become a ghost, but she lurks in every corner of my being.
I slowly nod my head, not revealing the thoughts in my mind.
“I know it still makes you sad, sweetie. It was such a tragedy.” She gives me a sad smile. “But we just have to be thankful that it wasn’t you. God is always looking after you, and he protected you that night. You must remember, Maggie...” Her features grow serious. “We follow God’s guidance and hand him our hearts and our souls. If Rowena’s parents had been faithful to Christ, like they should, that would never have happened to her. They were immigrants, they never belonged here in the first place.”
I stare at the woman in utter disbelief. Janet and Phil are not good Christians whatsoever. My parents are good people. Good parents. What happened was an accident, plain and simple.
“I don’t think Rowena’s parents could have done anything differently to stop it from happening. They moved here to give their daughter a better life, not with any ill intentions.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I should have been silent.
I feel Phil’s eyes on me. I look away from Janet’s surprised gaze and stare at the table. The table and my body jump simultaneously as Phil slams his fist down on it. “What the fuck did you say?” he barks.
“Nothing, sir.” I glance up at him.
“God did not protect Rowena. If the Petrov’s did what they’re supposed to, he would have,” he pauses. “Do you fucking hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” I confirm, nodding.
Janet breaks into the conversation. “Maggie, you need to watch what you say. We’ve been telling you this. We don’t want to have to punish you or ground you.”
Ground me? I can’t leave this hellhole as it is.
“I know, Mom,” I squeak out. She’s not my mom.
“Good,” she says, putting some pancakes on her plate. “Let’s eat this wonderful meal God blessed us with and then we’ll get started on your studies.”
We finish our meal that God, A.K.A. Bisquick, blessed us with and I meet Janet in the dining room for my schooling. She homeschools me since I’m not allowed any contact with the outside world. I’m not even allowed to go outside into their yard. The only sunlight I see or feel is what shines through the window panes. The windows in Maggie’s bedroom were covered with drywall, so there is no natural light in that room. I’ve been in here for two years now, yet I refuse to believe this will continue as my reality.
The day passes in typical fashion. We go through the different subjects, all of which come easily to me. I’m supposed to be in seventh grade but am at a ninth grade level. I don’t know what their plans are after I graduate from high school. Janet goes into the kitchen to start dinner, while I clean up the school supplies. After I put them all away, I join her in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, I watch as she methodically measures water to be boiled.
“Mom,” I say, startling her. She glances up at me and smiles. “After Rowena died, you never said anything about the Petrovs. What happened to them? I thought you all were friends.”
An unreadable expression takes over her face for a moment and then it disappears. Her mask of denial goes back in place. “I’m not sure if we were friends, but we were nice to them. You two were friends, so we had to be cordial,” she pauses. “And they stopped talking to us afterward. So, I’m not sure what happened to them. Perhaps they moved back to Russia where they belonged.”
It’s all a lie. Janet and Phil stopped talking to my parents. That’s why I took the flowers, to try and reach out to them. But they didn’t take just the flowers. And my parents probably never even knew.
The thought makes me nauseous.
My parents have no idea that I’m less than a minute away from them.
And there’s no way for them to know.
Three
ROWENA
Thirteen Years Old
AFTER GETTING MY NIGHTLY SHOWER and brushing my teeth, Janet and Phil make sure I’m secure in Maggie’s bedroom. One by one, each lock clicks, ensuring that I cannot escape. I sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at the black T.V. screen. My fourteenth birthday is in two days, but we don’t celebrate my birthday. We only celebrate Maggie’s, so I turned fourteen three months ago. With all of the days running together, my only reminder of the date is the calendar they have in their kitchen.
I should be at home, with my real family, celebrating my birthday with them. Most days it felt like it was getting easier, forgetting about my life before coming here. But today I miss my mom and dad more than I ever have. I need to know that they’re okay and for them to know I didn’t run away. These people took me, without anyone ever noticing.
