Scream Queen

i. nostalgia trip

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FROM THE VIEW ABOVE, the town of Blackwater was nothing compared to the city of Los Angeles. A pockmark of redbrick, pavement, and asphalt roads at the forefront of a dark lake. It was an eyesore in the leagues of the forest that surrounded it; an embedded piece of civilization amidst the vast wilderness. L.A., on the other hand, was the home of the wealthy and the famous. Where the stars gathered in the hills underneath the shadow of the Hollywood Sign; a city of glitz and glam, nepotism and elitism, parties and galas.

A world where she belonged to, deserved to be a part of. She didn't belong here. Not anymore. She was better, deserved better. Anxiety made her uneasy, an overwhelming feeling to flee gnawed at her mind. Leaned into the car door, trapped in the confines of the taxi, chauffeured down a road that split the forest, Mae could only hold her breath as the trees accreted into the town of Blackwater – a town unchanged.

Nausea came with the nostalgia, threads of mangled memories of her childhood unspooled, tangling into knots. Bruises underneath the skin, bile on her tongue, lake water in her lungs. Ice cream melted in her hands. Unevenly cut bangs plastered against her forehead. The forest underneath her feet.

The taxi came to a slow stop at the light of an intersection at the heart of Blackwater. Small rebrick buildings of shops and services still lined snuggly at either side, the townsfolk shopping and strolling in the late afternoon as usual. Adjacent to the road, settled on its own plot, the sheriff's department continued to be a blemish among the brick buildings. It was still painted beige and trimmed with pinewood, its lot cracked from tree roots and neglect. She sneered as the taxi drove by, at the townsfolk stopping and staring, at an old pick up truck parked in front of Sheriff's. Her anxiety was gone, replaced instead by... anger? Sadness? Disgust? She couldn't decide.

The rest of the ride was short, her childhood home was not too far from the heart of the town. It was set in a neighborhood in the outskirts closest to the treeline. It was the same as when she left six years ago, all peeling paint and mossy brickwork worn down by time. She peered at the side of the house, surprised to see the broken trellis against the wall underneath her bedroom window. The skeletal remnants of dead ivy clung to it still despite its condition, both rotting in the sun. An urge to climb it crossed her mind like her younger self often did when sneaking out of the house. Mae stared up at her bedroom window, the afternoon sun reflecting off the glass and burning through the thin curtains. She knew it was unlocked, the latch still broken no matter how many times she reminded her father.

Mae moved away and sighed, walking to the porch. She turned the key, jingling it until the front door unlocked and creaked open. The house was dark, all the blinds closed and the curtains drawn together, taking her a moment for her eyes to adjust. The sound of her heels were muffled by the carpet as she slowly stepped inside, bringing her luggage in with her.

The place smelt of her father. Beer, coffee and woodsmoke with the smallest hint of pungent musk. Despite her best efforts, it caused something in her chest to tug and ache. She pushed it all down, straightened her spine as she threw open the curtains and yanked up the blinds. A flood of blinding sunlight spilled in from the windows, chasing the shadows away and bringing in clarity. Layers of dust floated in the sunbeams, disturbed and airborne from her sudden actions. Even so, the house was the same, strangely tidy but nonetheless unchanged.

Mae picked up the remote from the armrest of her father's recliner – the shape of him grossly imprinted into its cushions from years of constant use. The T.V. was new, however. A plasma screen hung above the fireplace and the coffee table that once held the old blocky television was moved against the wall. A large doily was laid across the table's surface, holding various picture frames, baubles and knick-knacks now. Mindlessly, she flicked through the channels until stopping on a cooking show. Having no intention to watch but wanting something to fill the silence, Mae turned the volume up. The house almost sounded lively then.