Lonely Souls

He Wants Me.

I ran with Karli out the front doors. Past reporters, past Claude and Duke. People snapped pictures of Karli and I running out, pictures of my mother and her new fiancé following, my mother distraught over my poor receiving of the news. I stopped outside and made to turn back and beat Charles' head in with my high heel shoe, but Karli grabbed me. "Karli! Let go! He deserves everything he's going to get!" I yelled, and I struggled against her as her mother pulled up in the car. I screamed in anger as she pushed me aggressively into the back seat, climbing in after me.

I took a long, deep breath, and looked at her with puffing, watery eyes. "Thanks," I whispered, and she nodded. The car pulled out of the long driveway and I resisted the urge to look back. Karli did, and when she looked back at me, she sighed.

"You can borrow my pajamas."

"Thanks," I said and leaned my head back. "I can't believe this."

"Well, you were right, he's trouble. There's got to be something we can do," Karli said in a thoughtful tone as her concentration face came on.

"No, I'll just move out like I told her I would."

"My place?"

"Excuse me, Karli," her mother said and pulled into the driveway. "I think you should ask me before you start making these plans."

"Mom?"

"Yes Karli?"

"Can Rebecca move in with us?"

"Of course she can." We all laughed in the car and got out in our fancy garb. Moving into the house we checked the time and decided that we would watch a movie before bed, but that never happened. Karli and I went in her bedroom to change and wash off our make-up, but she ended up playing music and we danced with each other for nearly an hour before the thought of changing came back.

We stopped and smiled at each other, then she got out two pairs of pajamas. We washed up and went to the kitchen for a midnight scavenge and came back with two glasses of orange juice, and a plate full of veggies and dip that we prepared ourselves. Then we sat down and watched the news, already being local celebrities.

"As if someone got footage of that and sent it in that quick," I said and shook my head as Karli turned off the television.

"You looked like a crazy killer," she said with a smirk. "A well-dressed crazy killer."

"I would have been a crazy killer if you didn't throw me into your car," I said. "I was going to bash his skull into the marble flooring."

"And been thrown in juvey for a few months until they could try you as an adult. Kind of why I stopped you, you know?" Karli asked, getting under the covers.

I wasn't surprised that I was still angry when I woke up. I had a comfortable sleep with Karli, but I never wanted to leave her side again. There was no one else I knew that could calm me like her.

A week passed before I finally came home, and officially told my mother and her fiancé that I was going to move out. My mother laughed thinking it was a joke, but Charles knew I was telling the truth, and the look in his eyes told me he wasn't pleased.

"Rebecca, come have some breakfast, I bet you're starving," my mother said as I walked into the living room to collect my iPod and a novel I'd left out.

"I don't have time for that," I answered and started jumping stairs up to my room.

"Rebecca?" she called and came up after me against Charles' protests to let me do what I wished. She stopped at my door as I began pulling my clothes out of the closet and dresser. "Come on," she said and walked in, putting the clothes back.

"Mother, you're making this complicated. Stop putting my clothes back."

"Who's clothes are you wearing?"

"Karli’s," I said and walked to the bathroom. She followed and blocked the door when I made to walk out. "Excuse me."

"Those don't leave the bathroom. You're not leaving, Rebecca. Where would you go?"

"Same person the clothes I'm wearing belong to," I said, rolling my eyes, trying to push past her. "Move," I growled.

"What's gotten into you? You sleep over at a friends for a week and then spring me with the fact that you're moving with them? That's not fair."

"Neither is life, what's your point?"

"Rebecca. I want you to be in the wedding."

I laughed, laughed so hard that my mom actually moved and let me go back to my room. "What am I supposed to be?" I laughed again.

"The flower girl, is that such a bad thing? You've always wanted to be one," she spoke softly and carefully, as if I might explode from some humor she wasn't quite understanding.

"No, but thanks for the thought," I replied and dumped my toiletries into my travel bag. "I'm not interested in my mother getting married to Godzilla."

"That's not very nice," my mother said, and I could hear it in her words; she was on the verge of tears. I hadn't quite expected this whole endeavor to end the way it did, but she cried to me. "I love you Becky, and I told myself that I will find a way to make this work. A way to make us work. Please give me that chance," she pleaded with me. I didn't believe her. There would be a time when I would leave, silently, if need be, but it wasn’t today.

I called Karli a little bit later, and she told everyone else what went down, and that I was going to move in with her later, just not this minute. Then came the time to have a "family" dinner, which consisted of no talking, and great formality such "Pass the rice please" but it wasn't the worst dinner I ever had. My father had been the cook. I had a thought of moving with him, but if Charles was right and he was almost homeless, did I really want to be stuck with the broken man?

The next day the two of them started planning the wedding. I objected right away, and came up with valid points, like You two barely know each other and what if it doesn't work between you? and another main one, You two could hate each other in the next month, do you really want to do this so quickly? Of course, they knew I wanted Charles out, which was their reason to disregard my argument. I hated that part. So, I tagged along with my mother one day while she went so far as to plan the napkins already. She hadn't even chosen the cake, and she was already choosing what to eat with. I laughed at her To Do List, and decided she was hopeless.

"What was your wedding like with Dad?" I asked with a laugh, but underneath I was serious. She scowled at me then, and I raised my hands with a shrug.

She was not happy with my criticism, and I admit I was being harsh, but the truth was the reason it hurt her feelings. I told her she should have picked out all the colours and jotted down her ideas rather than putting down generalizations; it gets messy if you don't do it right. I'd watched videos online of weddings that were complete disasters and read magazine articles on how to start planning - yes, because I'm a girl, and most girls do want to get married at least once in their lifetime.

So we turned back around and drove past Charles as he left to go get the wedding brochures from the local churches. He, I later found out, was a strong Catholic, even though he didn't act like it at home which made me criticize his every movement, usually followed by a snide remark of how unCatholic he was being. I wasn't stupid, I knew there was something wrong with him on the inside. I wasn't talking about a demon inside him from the Bible times, but it was something.

It bothered me for days, and I couldn't figure it out.

I checked out modern day demons on the internet but nothing I came up with remotely pointed to Charles. I thought I was possibly looking in the wrong places, but where else was I to look? So, I gave up and focused solely on his actions and how he behaved. He seemed just like a regular guy getting ready for a wedding, but there was something dark about him.

Then one day he was on another trip, gone to Canada this time. He always looked so professional when he left, and very tired and worn out when he got back a few days later. This time was no different, and I wondered what he did as a living. I asked him on his return this time. He completely ignored the question and moved onto the party favors and what alcohol should be served at the reception. I didn't think they were going as far as an after party, but it didn't matter, I was secretly making my own plans to demolish anything good I already helped with. I also still secretly wanted to bash his head in, but probably with a spiked club to do the job right.

It was just days before the wedding when Karli, Miya, Jade and Bianca showed up at my door with paints, paint brushes, and a car load of other things I couldn't really determine to be of any use for the wedding.

"It's not for the wedding. It's for your room," Karli said with a sly smile and I smiled. They were remodeling my room to make Charles and my mom go nuts and throw me out so I didn't have to hurt my mom's feelings.

"Good, good," I said and led them to my room, not that they hadn't been there before.

"Nice new door," Miya commented and all the girls smiled. We got to work on Karli's design, and we finished just as Charles came back. I silently cursed and closed the door, snaking down the hallway and sat at the stairs with a random book and pretended to be very interested in it when he walked in. I couldn't smell the paint out here, but I remembered the car outside.

"Missing something?" I asked, looking up from my book, and Charles jumped.

"Where's your mother?"

"You should take a cold shower, you look exhausted. She'll be back soon, and I'm sure she'll have a lot to tell you about in the past few days you've been MIA on us," I said and smiled. He gave me a curt smile and made to walk out the door when he turned back to me.

"Who's car?"

"What?" I asked, acting mildly surprised.

"Rebecca, who's car is that parked by our lawn?"

"There's a car there?" I asked and walked down the remaining stairs to look. "I don't know, must be the neighbor’s, I guess. Or one of their friends, they have a lot of friends that come to visit them."

"Alright," he said and looked at me in a way I never thought someone like him would. It wasn't suspicion, if it only could have been. I stared back at his lustful eyes, and knew I needed to get out of here and fast. "You're sure there's no one here?"

"Positive," I said and turned but he grabbed my wrist, which made me pause. I felt my heart in my throat and a sick feeling in my stomach. "Let go of me Charles."

"You look very beautiful," he whispered, and I didn't look at him.

"Protect your balls, I might have to break them," I growled, and he let go of me in an instant. I didn't face him, afraid of what I may see in his face. He stepped out and closed the door, I heard the car start and him drive away. Karli opened the door and ran down to me and gave me a hug that I wished could last a lifetime.

"That was brave," Karli whispered in my ear. "Very brave."

"Can I kill him yet?"

"You're lucky he didn't try anything."

"No, he's the lucky one."

"I know," she whispered. "So are you, going to jail wouldn't help the situation."

"Doesn't matter. I'd kill him. I still might."

"Not yet, wait for a little while."

"I can only wait so long," I answered. We both moved swiftly back upstairs, and I took a can of blood red spray paint to his tuxedo.

The day of the wedding my mother handed me a "Pretty in Pink" type dress with ribbons and lace in a Modern-Victorian style, the same style she chose the wedding to be. I told her I had to go to my room to get my purse because I planned to go to the after party too, which she had no reason to object. She wanted me to get along with the family that was coming together today. Ha. Yeah right.

The look on Charles' face when he saw his nice white tux painted to look like it was bloody was priceless. I loved it. He seemed to panic. My mom thought it looked good, and because it was Victorian themed, he could just say he was in a sword fight with another man, and the paint was put there on purpose. He relaxed and I nodded, I'd recently talked about people back then fighting before a special occasion -a.k.a. wedding- and looked like they were probably dying during the ceremony.

When I went to the bathroom before I was to walk out and down the aisle with the flowers behind Charles' little nephew, I took the same spray paint to my dress, and so it would be wet but hey, this was worth it. Then I messed up my hair and I walked out to look in the mirror. Just like I came from a fight, the paint still running.

I picked up the flowers and sprinkled black sparkles on them, a great contrast to the white and pink flower pedals in the basket. I walked out into the isle after the ring bearer and when people saw me, they gasped. I continued, paying no mind, throwing the pedals in the isle with every other step. My almost-stepfather’s jaw dropped. I made it half way, throwing the pedals and black sparkles falling from them, littering the floor in a black dust.

"Rebecca!" My mother screamed from behind me when she saw. "It was you? I can't believe you! After all you did to make this wedding perfect and now you ruin it? Why would you do this to me?" She sobbed, and her father held her to him. I smiled a wicked smile and dropped the basket, family and friends taking videos of the entire event. This was sure to make headline news, at least with my family and school. News travelled fast around here. I couldn't wait to see that story broadcast on the internet.

"You better leave Rebecca," Charles said softly, but I knew why. He wanted more than my approval, he wanted me. "How could you do this to your mother?"

"See now?" I asked, "We match," I added in a tone that even I considered insane.

"Get out!" my grandpa yelled at me and I looked at him. I never cared much for my mother's side of the family, and I never met any of my father's family, so I didn't know if I liked them or not. But deal with the problem at hand.

"Leave!" Charles hissed. I stood my ground.

"You see Charles? Not everything is going to be easy for you. Ever," I smirked, spun on my heel, and walked down the aisle in an exaggerated stride. I wanted him to watch me, just to see if someone would notice him looking after me in a lustful manner. If they did, it was never spoken of and no one ever mentioned it to me. I stuffed the dress in to the garbage can, let the lace and ribbon stick out so they knew it was there. I went to the bathroom and had a shower. I thought about how much trouble I'd be in, and what the punishment would be. Charles would suggest something horrible to get back at me, or he would say something sadistic like make me take a trip with him, so he could screw me while we were in the hotel room together, alone. I shuddered, even in the hot water. The paint came off in a thin line almost like blood would, and the gel, hairspray and mouse that was holding my hair in place slowly seeped out too.

I went into my room and took a deep breath. I forgot to open the windows today, the paint was dry, but it was stuffy and smelled stale. I opened my sliding glass door after changing into my silk nightgown and sat on my floor cushion that I usually kept outside when I wanted fresh air and to stare at the sky. It also enabled me to see people coming down the street, and I waited for what felt like hours, finally going back inside. They came back home sometime after four in the morning, completely sloshed and went straight to the bedroom. There appeared to be no honeymoon and I wondered why they weren't going on vacation somewhere for a week. Or a month.

It was around noon when Charles finally came out of the bedroom and went straight for the medicine cabinet. I realized then how easy it would be to kill him at this point. He could be reaching for Tylenol and what would be in the liquid gels was cyanide. Wish I'd have thought of that sooner, I would have done it.

I was sitting quietly in my seat at the table watching him like a hawk, unmoving. He turned around while I was staring at him and he jumped nearly three feet into the air, losing his Tylenol and nearly dropping his glass.

"You're up," he said quickly and stared at me.

"Of course I am, it's past noon," I nodded to the clock and he squinted at it.

"Ah," he said and set his glass on the counter and began his search for the lost pills. This could be fun.

"We made the midnight news again," I said with a laugh. "I'm starting to like this publicity, aren't you?"

"You're going about this the wrong way Rebecca. You're attracting the wrong attention, and you're going to hear it from your mother when she gets up."

"So, what do you care?" I asked and rolled my eyes.

"I care about you Rebecca," Charles said as he stood and walked over to the table, sitting beside me, something he never did. No, no, no. "I really do," he added and put his hand on mine. I recoiled and stood. "Don't leave," he said in a frustrated tone. I nearly flew up the stairs.

"s**t!" I hissed to myself. "s**t, s**t, s**t, s**t!" I locked the door and went to my window, where no one seemed to be walking about at all.