The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (30 page)

The evening started out okay. She showed me around her enormous mansion, making sure I noticed all the expensive-looking furniture, rich silks, and classic artwork that were displayed throughout the rooms.

After a gourmet dinner, I followed Stephanie up to her room. It was painted red and white, with photos placed perfectly along the walls. Above her bed was a portrait of the queen herself, which I thought was tacky.

The distinct scent of an expensive perfume filled the air; it was such a strong odor I figured she bathed in it or spilled the bottle. Either way, the smell was overpowering. I used to like that particular scent, but now I feared I could never use it without thinking of her.

She sat on her bed with her puppets, as I now called Trudy and Tara, while I took the plush, wine-colored armchair near the closet.

“So Sarah, do you think you’re pretty?” Stephanie asked.

“Uh…I don’t know, why?”

She scowled. “I asked Ryan why he was talking to you all the time. And do you know what he said?”

I didn’t like where this was going. “No,” I answered quietly, afraid to look into her eyes.

“He said that you were sweet and pretty. And that he liked your dark eyes and your long brown hair.”

I glanced at Trudy and Tara, hoping for help, but their smirks told me I couldn’t count on them. This wasn’t good.

She didn’t wait for a response before continuing, and really, what was I going to say, she was obviously up to something. A knot of trepidation formed in the pit of my stomach. “I can’t do anything about your eyes, but I can do something about that hair.” She bent down and picked up something hidden under her bed.

I had a feeling I knew what was about to happen, and I hoped I was wrong.

She turned back around, holding a pair of industrial-size, shiny, silver scissors. Oh shit. Her smile was all steel as she glanced at me, and then at the shears.

Now I knew why they invited me here, and it wasn’t to become my friend.

God, I was so stupid. Why would I think that after months of her ignoring me, the frost queen would suddenly be nice to me? I should have known that a girl like her, rich, snobby, and just plain mean, was incapable of change.

Glaring at the scissors, I gulped, making the only decision I could think of. I took off out the door of her bedroom.

As I ran down the hall, I heard her yell, “Get her, girls.”

This was so cliché. I was living a horror flick, and I couldn’t believe I fell for it.

So now the question was, how did I get myself out of this odd situation I suddenly found myself in?

It was so dark in the closet I couldn’t see the hand I held out in front of my face. If there was a light bulb in here, I wasn’t going to turn it on for fear I’d give away my position. A floral scent wafted around the tiny cubby. I stretched out my hand and felt the soft towels that were folded neatly on a shelf beside me.

With my head pressed against the door, I sat down on the floor, trying to think of what to do next. My eyes were closed as I listened carefully, hearing only my own breathing and the faint sound of footsteps as they searched another part of the house. I was safe, for now. Although I knew I couldn’t hide forever.

Since I had nothing else to do, I tapped my knee with my finger to the tune of the national anthem. It must have helped my thought process, because I remembered something. I had seen a phone sitting on a stand in the hall on my way to this closet. Maybe I could crawl over to it while the crazy girls were occupied, and call my mom. Then I could sneak outside and wait behind some bushes. I really didn’t want a haircut. I couldn’t believe she was going to chop off my hair just because her ex-boyfriend talked to me and became my friend.

What was I thinking; of course she would.

I waited a few seconds, making sure they were still out of hearing distance before making my move.

Opening the door very slowly, I crawled out, looking around to make sure I was alone. Since my eyes had adapted to the darkness of the small closet, they now felt strained from the wash of light coming from the fixture above me. The hallway was clear, so I continued to crawl slowly on my hands and knees along the soft oatmeal-colored carpet, careful not to make any sound. The phone was just a couple feet away on a small oak table against the wall.

I was almost there when I heard a squeaky voice I recognized as Tara’s. “There she is,” she yelled, pointing at me from the other end of the hallway.

Crap. I stood up and ran as fast as I could for the portable handset. I picked it up and dialed my number quickly. My mom answered, “Hello.”

The words “come get me” rushed out of my mouth before a well-manicured hand reached for the receiver. I turned to see Stephanie slam her finger down, ending my call and the only chance of escape.

She smiled wickedly; her fierce blue eyes shot out imaginary icicles that filled me with fear. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Tara and Trudy held on to me while I pleaded with them to stop. I hoped that they would feel guilty and let me go. That hope was short-lived when I saw laughter in their eyes. They were just as evil as Stephanie was.

As I struggled, I felt the first cut, and some of my hair that had taken years to grow fell to the floor. I panicked, stomped on someone’s foot, and took off running. Fingers slipped from my skin. I was free.

“Get her, now!” the evil witch screamed. In my haste I tripped on the edge of the carpet, giving Tara a chance to grab my arm before I could get away, her pointed nails digging into my skin.

They held on tighter this time, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get away. I sobbed quietly as they chopped off my hair. My heart sank with every snip of the scissors. The strands brushed my arm and feet as they fell to the floor, feeling like soft feathers caressing my skin. I closed my eyes, hoping that was all it was, a pillow torn open above my head.

When the awful snipping sounds stopped, I opened my eyes to see most of my hair lying in clumps at me feet. I could no longer pretend they were anything else. I knew that the pile of brown clippings curled up along the carpet was mine. I stared down at it with a feeling of numbness. my long mane that I had taken such care of was now taunting me from the floor. When I was little, I asked to have long hair just like my mother. After that, she would brush it lovingly every night, buying products to keep it soft and shiny. She said it was one of the reasons she wanted a daughter, to dress her up and play with her hair. And now the remaining pieces lay on the floor, being stomped on by Stephanie’s open-toed red sandals.

They let me go and started to laugh. “I don’t think Ryan will be interested in you now. My goodness, Sarah, what happened to your hair?” she mocked. “You know, you really should stop going to your dad’s barber.” Stephanie’s sick attempt at humor made the lump in my throat threaten to grow.

Trudy and Tara laughed at her joke with twin high-pitched screeches. They were eerily similar, with matching grey eyes, black hair, and milky complexions. If Trudy wasn’t four inches taller than Tara, I’d think they were twins, although they weren’t even related.

I ran to Stephanie’s room, picked up my bag, and took off in the direction of the front door. As I rushed out, I heard her shrill voice calling after me. “Oh Sarah, are you leaving so soon?” And of course more laughter followed.

I stumbled out of her house into the night. In the darkness, I followed the walkway to the road, feeling embarrassed and angry, and an ache formed in my chest before the tears started to fall.

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and started walking aimlessly. My tears were flowing hard, obscuring my view. My foot caught in a crack in the road, and I fell to the ground. My hands dug into the asphalt, scraping my palms.

I pushed myself up and continued walking.

Would this horror movie ever end? I hoped to wake up in my room, having dreamed the whole thing. Closing my eyes, I willed it to be true, but fate was not on my side; this was really happening. I was still here wandering the roads, praying I was heading in the right direction.

After what seemed like hours, I saw headlights behind me. A car pulled along the sidewalk, and the passenger side window slowly rolled down. “OH, MY GOD, SARAH! WHAT HAPPENED?” my mother yelled from the driver’s seat.

Chapter One

The Dream

The fact that he was present made me realize I was dreaming. In reality, he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to me. It was early evening, and I was sitting on one of the swings from my brother’s old swing set, staring up at the starry sky. It was peaceful, with a warm breeze gently brushing my face. My hair fell into my eyes. The scent of lilacs drifted in the air.

I had just pushed off the ground and swung upwards when I heard a creaking sound behind me. I glanced back to see him open the gate and walk into our yard. He smiled at me, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight as he sat down on the swing next to mine. We sat together silently, swinging gently, looking up at the moon and the stars.

Suddenly, a bright light shone from behind us, followed by a very shrill noise…or was it a scream?

Thump, thump, thump. My eyes shot open. A banging sound came from somewhere, interrupting my sleep. I wasn’t ready to wake yet, so I threw the pillow over my head to muffle the noise.

“Sarah, get up, Mom’s been calling you,” Alex, my fifteen-year-old brother, bellowed from the other side of my bedroom door.

“I’m up,” I yelled, tossing the pillow aside and closing my eyes again.

I jumped at the sound of another thump. “Go away!” God, can’t anyone sleep in around here? I heard him stomp down the hall, leaving me to nestle under my covers to go back to sleep. Just as I was drifting off again, a thought appeared in my foggy brain; I was supposed to do something, wasn’t I? My eyes popped open, focusing on the dirt splotch on my ceiling above me left by a ball I had thrown up years ago. I knew I should wash it off, but I sometimes found myself staring up at it and seeing shapes in the dust. Once, after studying for a difficult biology exam, the shape of a happy face appeared. It made me feel better about the test. But now I lay staring at it trying to figure out what day it was, and then I did. It was Monday and I was late for school. Filled with panic, I jumped up to have a quick shower.

By the time I was finished getting ready for school, my mom had already left. There was a note on the kitchen table telling me that she had taken Alex to school and that I had better not be late. There was a threat in there too, but I wasn’t worried. She was pretty lenient—well, only when my dad was away on business. She was always joking with him that someone had to be the grown-up. My dad was more like a kid than an adult, more like a friend than a father. My brother and I were lucky in the parent department. Yes, my mother was a little more responsible than my dad, but we didn’t really have many rules. She trusted us to make the right choices. She was very good with guilt, so before I did something stupid, I would think of the guilt trip she’d lay out…and change my mind.

I took a juice box and a granola bar from the pantry, grabbed my coat off the hook, and headed out the door.

It was hot and sunny out and I instantly regretted the coat. Shaking it off, I ran to my car, a used silver-blue, two-door SUV I got for my sixteenth birthday. It was a bribe from my mother to make me go to Hadley Academy. Even though I only lasted at the snooty school for six months, I was able to keep the bribe. It was an older car, but that was okay, it had character. So what if the passenger side door stuck on rainy days, and it sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco? It was all part of the charm, and besides, it was free. I paid for the insurance and gas with the money I made working at the multiplex. With only a few shifts a week, I didn’t make a lot. But I was pretty good at saving.

As I drove, I noticed that only a few leaves had changed. It was the second week of September, and this beautiful weather wasn’t going to last long.

I arrived at my school, Hamilton High, a large dull-gray stone building that slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last school, I was okay with its appearance.

Parking in the student parking lot wasn’t always easy, since I was usually late. I was often left with the spot furthest from the entrance, and today was no different.

Rushing to the front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a candy-red convertible. It was her gift to herself after she turned forty. She worked here, unfortunately, as the vice principal. It’s not as bad as it sounds, having a mother that works at your school. With a building this size, I didn’t see her that often. This was my last year of high school anyway. In the fall, I was heading to NYU for their teaching program; I was going to become a music teacher. I had been playing the piano since I was five. My mother’s dream for me was to follow in her footsteps and become a teacher, so I thought combining our dreams was a good compromise.

 I was running from my locker, after having put my bag inside, when the bell rang. Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings, so this happens every so often.

Just as I turned the corner heading to my first period English class, I slammed into someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white tile as we collided. A pile of books fell to the floor in a heap.

I bent down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, but the words were barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the hall.

It was a guy, and he had picked up his books so fast, I didn’t even see his face. All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched him run off. His hair was shaggy and brown, and he was quite a bit taller than my five foot five. The gray sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t helpful at identifying him either, since a lot of kids in school dressed that way.

“Miss Samson, is there a reason you’re loitering in the hallway when class is starting?”

Turning toward the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing in front of his classroom. He was short and stout with a receding hair line that made his forehead look gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the bridge of his nose, no matter how many times he pushed them back, a few kids made fun of him.  I, however, would never do such a thing.