January 9th 2014
Summerville, California.
When I dream, I dream of an Island. A lake on fire, an eclipsed sun above. An angel with seraph wings rises from the water, sword in hand. Her dark hair slick from the depths below. Pale skin shimmering with firelight and blood. Her eyes burned like the sun piercing right through me, that haunting gaze, and sickening smile. Atop her head, a jagged crown, like daggers shooting up into the sky. It was made from the blackest Iron, encrusted with gold, and jeweled with rubies.
The Angel comes towards me, she is always silent. I am her subject, a slave to her demand. It’s always the same, I drop to my knees, and she raises the sword high above her head. She is death, the crooked scythe that will end my pathetic life. She hesitates at the last possible second and I wake up. The dream already fading from my memory.
***
The alarm on my phone went off, my eyes opened to the cold crack of dawn. Light passed through the crevasse in my curtains hitting me directly in the eyes. The grip of sleep held me tightly, right in the palm of its hand. There was a knock on my bedroom door, and a cruel voice came from the other side.
“Bonnie, it’s time to get up.” she said demandingly. There was a bit of silence and then from the other side. “I’m making chocolate chip waffles, shower then come downstairs”. That voice is my mother. You wouldn’t know it yet, but she was the worst thing in my life. She did however know how to bribe me with things that I loved.
I sat up in my bed, throwing the sheets and blankets off of me. Stretched my arms, and then kicked my feet out and jumped out of bed. The four baby blue walls had been my sanctuary for years. My bed, which was at the far end, was a simple thing, box frame. Despite its simple appearance it could be made into a fortress. Next to the window, a desk with a laptop, dozens of books,and a lamp. Countless nights had been spent there pouring over chemistry homework and other assignments.
My closet, which held my weapons of war. Armaments that would be used to combat the evils of the devil, aka my mother. The entrance, a door at the foot of my bed, inside my armor. I walked in and chose the outfit for my first day back to school after winter break.
It should be noted that the California winters never got particularly cold. Personally however, it was an insanely chilly time. There was a black hoodie that I had been quite fond of, a “gift” from a friend of mine. I say it like that, because it wasn’t a gift, I had stolen it from her, from Isabelle. Her scent still lingered on it, that warm earthy smell made me happy.
I held it close to my chest and buried my head in the black fabric. I unfolded it and looked at it closely. The VANS logo emboldened across the chest, the edges chipped and faded from years of use. There was a mirror at the far end of the closet, I started to grab different articles of clothing and compared them against my slender body. In the end I went with a Green Day t-shirt, and a pair of black skinny jeans.
I hurried out into the hall and went into the bathroom. I started the shower, and waited for it to warm up. I took off my pajamas and tapped away on my smartphone, selecting the music for the morning. It was a Sleeping with Sirens type of day. “If I’m James Dean, Then you’re Audrey Hepburn.” a song that I had had on repeat for the past few nights. It reminded me of her, and the butterflies that I get when she’s near me.
Dad always liked her, back when we were kids. He would take us both to the arcade, or out into the middle of nowhere to gaze at the stars. He was good like that, he took us to places that nobody had ever been to. Secret places, only for us. It had been three years since he passed away, he had missed so much.
My first heartbreak given to me by Brock Tanner when I was fourteen. He should have been there for me to cry into his shirt. My first date, three of my birthdays, and not to mention the first time my mother hit me. He should have been there to stop it, but he wasn’t. He was dead, and I was alone.
***
I got out of the shower, and started to dry myself off. The steam fogged up the bathroom mirror. I danced around the room, making my way over to the counter. I took the towel and wiped down the mirror.
On the other side, was not me. It couldn’t have been. On my head was the jagged crown from my dreams. I jumped back from the counter and slipped on the slick linoleum floor. The back of my head, where my spine met my skull cracked against a shelf behind me. A brief moment of pain and then numbness.
I laid on the ground twitching, my blood pooled out onto the floor.I tried to get up, but I only fell onto my stomach. The blood filled my mouth, its metallic taste danced across my tongue. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my scream caught in my throat. Face down in a puddle of my own fluids, naked, cold, and scared. I died.
***
When I dream, I dream of an Island. A lake serene and beautiful, surrounded by a dense forest. It’s only me, a layer of mist hangs over the body of water. The moon hangs high above me, and the peace of sleep or death slowly washed over me.
I skipped a rock across the water, the stone skidded across the surface and landed somewhere in the middle. The shockwaves left in the wake of the stone rippled out across the lake. Disturbing what laid in wait below.
Something in the water, coming for me. From the water's depths a pale hand broke the surface. Clutched in its fingers was a crown, jagged like daggers reaching out towards the sky. Made from the blackest iron, encrusted with gold and jeweled with rubies. The closer it got, the more she rose from the water. A woman with night black hair, eyes like pearls. She was tall and slender, her long hair covered her breasts. She reached out to me, offering me the crown.
“Daughter of Le Fay, find the witch.” her mouth didn’t move, though her words were right in my ear. Her voice, soft and tender, almost motherly. “Find the witch, claim the crown.”.
***
My eyes fluttered open as I laid on the bathroom floor. A knock on the door. “Bonnie? Are you okay?” my mother asked. I reached towards the back of my head, and felt where the shelf had impacted with my skull. Nothing, no blood, as if it had never happened.
“I’m fine, just slipped is all.” I said.
From the other side she let out a sigh, “please be careful, we can’t afford for you to get hurt.” she said. Like she’d even ever cared about my wellbeing.
She walked away, back downstairs. I got up from the ground and walked back over to the counter. Looking back at me, was me, it was me. Just as it had always been. “Find the witch.” the woman in the lake's voice reverberated in my head. She was so real, and my death had felt so final.
I got dressed, and did my makeup. I didn’t really feel like doing much, just foundation eyeliner, and burgundy lipstick. I went back into my room and grabbed Isabelle's sweater. I slipped it on, and then went downstairs.
It used to be that there were photos covering every part of the wall that my mother could get her hands on. But since dad passed, she had quickly taken down all of the pictures that featured him. She boxed them up and put them in the attic. Occasionally I would go up there, and sift through all of the pictures of him. Just to see his face again. It should have been her.
***
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The dining room had a large round table. In the past our house had been a meeting place for the family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents all gathered around the table during Christmas. Now, however, it was no man's land. A battlefield in which my mom and I waged righteous war.
She was standing at the counter, preparing a first day back to school lunch. She used to do it every day, but those days are gone. It's funny, me and her are almost identical, same raven black hair, same eyes, same pointed nose, the same square jaw. People mistake us for twins most of the time. She was beautiful, but I knew the truth. She was a disgusting human, unfit to be called a person.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as she packed my lunch box. I pulled out one of the dining table chairs and sat down.
“I’m fine.” I said coldly. She took a deep breath and went back to cutting up an apple.
“I just worry about you.” she said. Doubtful she actually did, or else she wouldn’t do half the things that she did to me. She turned around and placed the lunch box on the table. She peered at me through squinted eyes and frowned. “Do you have to dress like that every day?” she asked bitterly.
I looked down at my clothes and smirked. “Funny, I don’t complain about how you dress.” I said, glancing at her floral dress. She put a plate in front of me, and went back over to the counter.
“What will people think of me when they see you?”. The waffle beeped and she went over to it.
“Why do you always have to find a problem with anything that I do?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Bonnie, please, can we not do this today.”. Her jaw clenched and fists tightened.
“Why not? You always do this? Am I not allowed to defend myself?”. I asked.
“Bonnie.” she said as I stood up from the chair, grabbed the lunchbox and walked over to the door.
“I don’t think I’m hungry right now.” . Slipped on my black converse and grabbed my backpack. “Bonnie, please eat, we can just not talk to each other.” she pleaded.
I shook my head, “No, I don’t think so.” I said, and left.
***
I stood at the corner bus stop a block away from my house. The dim light of the morning sun peeked out behind the horizon. I opened my backpack and got out an old book, winter break reading for my AP history class. Le Morte d’Arthur. Its pages were covered in highlighter and almost glued together with sticky notes.
I thought of the lake, and the woman. About the crown in the lady's hand. How, a figure much like her, gifted the sword Excalibur to Arthur. I rolled my eyes, had I read this book so many times it was now bleeding into my dreams? That, however, didn't explain what happened in the bathroom. I was being delusional.
Because I was deep in thought, I didn’t hear her approach. She waved her hand in front of my face, when I looked down, she was there. My head jumped back and the girl snickered. “Woah, are you okay Bonnie?” she asked in a small voice.
Isabelle Belrose, my oldest friend. We grew up together, and every day I see her, I fall deeper and deeper in love with her. She was a full foot shorter than me, at 4’9, her sandy blonde hair had been cut short. Today, she wore her blue corduroy jacket with an Amity Affliction shirt. Her round face and emerald eyes always seemed to buckle my knees.
“I’m fine.” I said low.
The girl shook her head, “The fuck you are Roseman.” she said. “Is it your mom? Did she touch you?” her eyes went wild.
“Nothing like that, I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
She rocked on her heels “Is it that dream again? You gotta stop reading that book so much.” she said. I nodded, and took out my phone to scroll. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you incredibly high today at lunch. I brought an edible I was gonna split with you, but I’ll just take a quarter and you can have the rest.” she said. This girl was the best thing to ever happen to me, I love her so fucking much. “Just take the rest two hours before you go to bed.” she finished.
The bus turned the corner and started towards us. “I don’t think I can wait till lunch.” I said.
She jabbed my ribs with her bony elbow, “Fuck yeah Roseman.” she laughed. We were met by the screech of decades old brake pads, and then a low hiss. Inside the bus, the driver looked down at us, and then pulled a lever opening the folding door. There was another hiss, and then the doors swung open. We stepped in and made our way towards the back.
We were usually the first few to get picked up, so we had our choice of seats. When we got all the way to the back she slid into the last bench sitting next to the window. She patted the fake leather padding and glanced down.
“What do you wanna listen to today?” she asked. She took out her phone and started to untangle her earbuds.
I sat next to her slumping in the seat and leaned my head against her shoulder. The girl immediately stiffened, and started to stutter. “W-w-what s-song?” she asked.
“You choose.” I said. She breathed softly, she smelt like incense. I put one of the earbuds in and looked at what she was putting on. Taking Back Sunday, MakeDamnSure. The music began to play, and she looked forward, but I was looking at her. Her lips parted as she whispered the lyrics to the song.
I wanted to kiss her so goddamn bad, she was aetherial. Her eyes glanced over at me and her cheeks burned red.
“What are you looking at?” she whispered. I looked away,
“Nothing,” I said.
She dug through her bag, and pulled out a little plastic baggie. She sat up and cracked the window open. Inside was a cookie the size of my entire hand, she was out to get me fucked up. She opened the bag and broke it apart. Taking a small piece for herself, and then offering me a larger quarter piece. I popped it in my mouth and chewed. She relaxed, her hand moved next to mine. Her fingers tapped against the seat, her thumb occasionally brushing against my hand. We sat there, drifting away together.
It would be another hour and a half before we got to school on behalf of the district's high school being two towns over. So the time that we had now, was time for each other. To be close, to be together.
***
Quite some distance away from the quiet town of Summerville is the equally quiet town of Cedar Grove. Every week for the past three years this was my home away from home, my kingdom. It would be unfair of me to say I was unloved, or unwanted. People generally loved me.
There were a few that laid outside my grasp. Roxy Noble, and her boyfriend David Brooks, came to mind. Roxy was the closest thing that I had to a rival, the second most popular girl in school. We played this game where she pretended to be my equal, while I tried to not squash her like the bug she is. Our families used to be friends, very old friends. When dad was alive he was close with her father. Once upon a time me and Roxy Noble were not enemies, but not quite friends. We didn’t hate each other. These days I'm not sure I can say the same.
Not that any of this actually mattered, most of the time I wanted to be left alone. I didn’t care that everybody loved me, I had certainly done nothing to deserve it. Unfortunately this was my life, and these people had chosen me as their Queen.
For the past three years Roxy and I had competed for Homecoming Queen for each grade we had been through. Two out of three times, I won. The final bout would come when we reached our senior year. And then the crowning achievement of our high school careers, Prom Queen.
A few others, such as the aforementioned Brock Tanner. After our little fling we just stopped talking to each other altogether. I harbored no lasting resentment for him, and I assumed he didn’t either. But every time we were in proximity of each other there was a tense awkwardness that filled the air.
It was honestly so good to be back, another week alone with that witch would have killed me. Outside the bus window there she was, Roxy, on the prowl waiting for us. Back to our regularly scheduled program.
***
We stepped off the bus, and she barreled towards us, David on her heels. “Well if it isn’t the Black Queen of Oak Grove, and her dyke friend.” she said, David grinned stupidly at her jab. I wasn’t in the mood for this.
“Did it take you all break to come up with that one?” I asked her. She scoffed, and looked at David to back her up.
“Did you two dyke it up together over the break?” he let out a hideous laugh.
There’s no way this was actually happening, ain’t no goddamn way. Roxy was a bitch, but never so forward with it. David just followed whatever she told him to do, he didn’t actually think about anything. Something must have happened, and I wanted to know what it was.
“Roxy, can we just skip to the part where you say sorry?” I asked. Her blue eyes popped out of her skull, she brushed a lock of her beach blonde hair from her face.
“Why would I apologize to you?” Roxy retorted.
I clapped my hands together, “oh it’s not an apology to me, it’s to Isabelle here.” I said, gesturing at the small girl.
“Fuckin apologize Roxy.” Isabelle snapped, the girl thought this whole affair a joke.
Roxy looked Isabelle up and down, and then looked back at me. “No, I don't think I will, you’re gonna have to make me.” She said with a sly grin on her face.
You know what? FUCK IT.
I walked up to her and punched her right in the nose, she fell back and blood poured down her face. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU PSYCHO!” she screamed through her hands. Everybody around us stopped and stared. Isabelle laughed madly, her head between her legs. She found it so amusing she forgot to breathe. My body was on fire with adrenaline. I could smell her blood, it was sweet, like a floral perfume.
The moment was almost perfect, but the principal sat there arms crossed. Arthur Blake, normally we were on good terms. No matter how well we got along, I wasn’t impervious to the consequences of Assault.
“Miss Roseman, Miss Noble, why don’t you follow me,” he said. We followed him, towards our destiny.
My name is Bonnie Roseman, and this is how the world ended.