Two Can't Keep a Secret If One of Them is Dead

"Distancing myself is the only way that I won't spill over, like pouring a can of soda into a bottle cap. They wonder what's wrong with me, but I laugh, because the answer to that is so much greater than they will ever know." -For the Speechless competition-

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1. Two Can't Keep a Secret if One of Them is Dead

My legs are tightly crossed, and I lay my fingers calmly in the lap of my black dress. The lacey, gossamer veil floats lazily over my eyes as ceiling fans rotate slowly. It's as if the whole room has completely stopped breathing, holding it's breath. Sobs echo through the small house, setting a gloomy damper on things. 

Someone walks over and puts a chubby hand on my bony shoulder. "Oh, Celinda, dear. I'm so, so sorry. I know this must be tough for you." 

I look up and see my neighbor with tears in her eyes, dabbing lightly at them with an embroidered handkerchief. I allow myself to release a small, sorrowful, insincere smile. "It will all be okay," I say, ducking my shoulder from her clammy hand. She starts to say something more, but tears cloud her eyes and she stumbles away.

Another group of girls from our class shuffle up to me, their eyes scanning the carpet rather than looking at me. "I'm sorry about Holly, Celinda," one of them named Gina mumbles whilst twirling her thumbs. I nod, keeping the same look of utter expressionless feeling on my face. I find it hilarious that the people that never bothered to speak to you or the ones that despised you simply less than a week ago suddenly want to be close to and befriend you when someone dies.

Actually, I find death really funny. "Don't give me my flowers when I'm dead," my mother used to say everytime someone mistreated her but came close when she was sickly and dying. I find it funny that somehow, in someone's mind out there, that someone becomes more important to them once they are dead and gone. I have planned to die in a secluded area that no one will find me in order to avoid the artificial tears and emotions that ones supposedly show.

I stare at Holly's photograph that sits prominently on a pedestal. Huh, I think. Even after the girl is gone she is still the most important person in everyone's life, sitting on this high white and mighty pedestal while the rest of us are constantly on our toes, worshiping her. 

If my eyes changed color according to mood, they would be crimson and cherry, popping with anger. I think back to last week. When everything went downhill at 90 miles per hour. 

Holly stormed out of my house, stomping furiously, her pink flowered flip flops slapping the pavement. 

"Holly, wait!" I pleaded, toddling after her through the alley that was beside my urban home. 

"There's nothing to explain!" She shouted, spit foaming at the openings of her mouth. "I hate you." The word hate rolled so easily off her tongue, suspending itself in the air and lingering there for quite some time. 

My mouth hung open, a single  tear streaming down my cheek, glistening before falling to the ground in the moonlight. "But, Holly, it wasn't what it looked like."

"Oh really? What was it then? Because I'm pretty sure it looks like your tongue was ninety percent of the way down my boyfriends throat! And I don't know what you'd describe it as, but there was definitely fondling involved! After everything I did for  you, and you think you can do that and I'll just be okay with it?!" She started to walk away from me, but I ran hopelessly after her, grabbing her shoulder. 

"Just let me-"

"No!" She slapped my hand away, staring at me like I was some sort of foreign alien. "Get your slimy, grody, two-timing, wisenhiming, whore of a girl paws off me."

How could she call me that? I thought that we were the best of friends. "Please, Holly. Nobody has to know about any of this except for us, even if we never talk again. Please." I was one step away from groveling. 

She snorted, crossing her arms and sneering sardonically. "Oh, ha ha! Big mouthed Celinda wants me to keep my mouth closed about something? Karma sucks, sweetheart."

Holly was right. I was a notorious gossiper, and I could hardly keep my mouth closed about anything. There probably wasn't a single secret that I had been told that I hadn't blabbed about to someone else. I admit, it was kind of ironic that I'd be asking someone else to keep a secret for me when I had told so many about theirs. 

"Everyone will know what a nasty, conniving little nit you are. I created you, and I'll destroy you," she growled. Her voice hinted with pleasure at the thought of destroying me. 

She turned in the opposite direction and strolled away, coming quite close to leaving the alley. 

The blood had risen to my face and  brain, and I couldn't believe it. She was actually going to tell everyone. Everyone would hate me, giving the slime on the floor better regards than me. She's the one that stole Holly McField's boyfriend. She slopped her chops all over him, and acted like the little disgusting freak she is. She's a nobody, they'd all think.

Tears slid down my cheek, and in an instant I couldn't keep the waterworks from flowing. Holly thought that she was so...so...superior to everyone. Is that the reason why I was drawn to her in the first place? Is that why I felt the need to take what was hers and leave my tracks? Not the fact that I liked or preferred to be stomped on and pushed around, but maybe there was an admiration in me for her. I wanted her life; I wanted to be her. Don't let her degrade you for another minute, I thought greedily, take her superiority from right under her feet and watch her fall.

 I ran up behind Holly and kicked her strongly in the back of her left knee cap, where I knew that she would cave because of it being her weak spot. She dislocated the cap less than a year ago. She buckled under the pressure and fell to the ground, crying with pain."How does it feel to be kicked around for once?" I snarled, chuckling at my own pun. Power rose in me as it drained from her. 

"Stop, Celinda! You psychotic beast!"

"Promise you won't tell anyone!" I screamed, more than just psychoticness running through my body. 

"Over my dead body!" she sneered. "The curtain will be up, and guess what? You're front and center." She smiled at me evilly.

I inhaled and exhaled several times with sharp, deep patterns. I could not risk everyone knowing. Everything could be over right now. A glint of metal caught my eye, sticking out from the peak of a dumpster. Not paying much attention or thinking about it, I pulled the object free. A large, silver, dented pipe. 

The pipe rolled around in my hands, the metal glinting with shine. Once again, I felt superiority and power rise in me with a new intensity I had never felt before. It was as if it vibrated through me, motivating, pulsing, purring at me to go on. 

Holly's eyes rolled back and forth along with the pipe. I saw her body tense up, her hands drawing closer and closer to her body. A small whimper escaped from the back of her throat, and I forced myself to look at her. Our eyes connected momentarily, her begging me for mercy. I smirked at her silent plea for life, her silent plea meaning that for once, she was beneath me. I knew she was going to scream any minute now and notify the whole world that she was in danger. 

In the split second before she screamed, I stroked the pipe across her head, the blow propelling her to the side. Blood speckled the pipe and ground, and she lay on her side. She let out a small yelp, and I could practically feel her energy and life flow out of her like to blood from her head. 

I brought the pipe down on her head once more, and it left a sickly imprint on her temple. The sound of her skull splitting and giving in under my pressure somehow delighted me. That's what she got for threatening me.  

I stared at the pipe and it lay in my gloved hands. It took about 5 minutes for the reality of my action to register in my brain.  I stared down at the pipe and once more at Holly. Her body laid crumpled next to the alleyway wall, blood water-falling from her cranium. The sharp, putrid, metallic smell of blood clouded the air. 

My hands would not let themselves rest. I smashed her three more times before I could process how mad I was. I tossed the pipe onto her, running away from it all. I let myself back into the back door of my home, being careful not to use my bloodied hands. Once I got inside, I surveyed the room. Holly's boyfriend was gone. My parents wouldn't be home until two days from then. I slumped hopelessly against the wall, and for the first time in years, I cried. 

 

Now, as I study everyone closely, I have no real reaction. I try to put a mental wall between myself and the outside. Distancing myself is the only way that I won't spill over, like pouring a can of soda into a bottle cap. They wonder what's wrong with me, but I laugh, because the answer to that is so much greater than they will ever know.

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