Dark City

9.

        

They took Laura's jeep into Shark River Hills. Alex brought a plastic bag as a precaution against another purging emergency. The drive was only five minutes long, but there were many slow turns and each one flipped Alex's stomach.

Laura pulled up to a house where the façade begged a paint job and repairs to its foundation. The blinds lay broken in the bottoms of the windows. The porch steps were rotting, with part of the banister tinged green with mold. Skeletal young women loitered there, smoking unfiltered cigarettes and hissing with laughter. They contorted their thin, purple lips into sneers as the jeep shined light on them.

To outsiders, the neighborhood of Shark River Hills looked quaint, idyllic even, but even the cutest neighborhoods had that one dilapidated house of the rising sun. The home on Cedar Place told the story of Jacob, the story of the domestic disturbances at midnight, like that time Jacob's dad shot his mom in the shoulder. It was the worst kept secret of Shark River Hills.

Alex had come to the one place she swore she'd never go. She remembered suddenly how her head staples itched for weeks after the incident with the rocks. She knew she should be afraid, but the oxy had numbed her emotions. She didn't really care what became of her walking into that house. The weed was all that mattered.

"You can wait in the car if you want," Laura said. Alex unfastened her seatbelt and climbed out.

"I'm not afraid," she said, eyeing the junkies.

Laura shrugged and lit up a cigarette. "All right, girl."

As Alex climbed the steps of the front porch, one of the junkies reached over and touched her hair. "Pretty," she sighed. "I would kill for hair like yours."

Alex didn't know what to say. Laura knocked eagerly on the door. A middle-aged woman with tired eyes and teeth as yellow as her bottle blonde hair came out to greet them. Alex recognized her as Jacob's mother.

"What do you want?" asked Mrs. Serrell.

"Jacob," Laura answered.

The woman nodded. "Come in."

The rooms were dark, the light blocked out by magazine cutouts taped to the windows. The stench of cigarettes barely masked the pungent aroma of dirty laundry and rotten food. Alex treaded cautiously over tiles that were broken or missing.

A shadowy form appeared in the doorway of a bedroom. His smile, like the smile of a jack-in-the-box, made Alex's skin prickle. "Never thought I'd see you darken my door," Jacob said.

Alex tried not to look at him until her curiosity got the better of her and she met his gaze. He had the maniacal eyes of an eel, cold and piercing.

"Come in," Jacob said. "Let me show you my wares."

His bedroom reeked of bong water. His floor had archaeological layers of dirty clothes, plastic bags, Styrofoam boxes and drug paraphernalia. Strewn across his desk were pieces, prescription bottles, dime bags, and empty cans of RC Cola.

"We need an eighth," Laura said. Alex remained in the doorway, ready to flee at any moment if Jacob showed signs of aggression.

"You look a little pale, Alex." He snickered, clearing his desk and taking a scale out from the lowermost drawer.

"She just needs some weed to settle her stomach," Laura said.

Jacob bagged three spliffs for them and sucked the air out before sealing it. He handed it to Laura. "This is all I can spare right now. It's thirty."

"Are you fucking kidding?"

"That's the spoiled rich girl price. Take it or leave it, princess."

Laura handed him the money. Jacob tucked it into his desk drawer and then, popping back up, asked, "Either of you want to try some morphine?"

"Do you have any oxy?" Alex asked.

Jacob chuckled. "So the little miss likes to party." He shuffled through his drawers until he found a dime bag of three white pills. He placed it into Alex's palm.

"They're 20s."

"How much for them?" 

"These are on me," he said.

"What happened to spoiled rich girl prices?"

"I'm feeling generous with you. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Thanks."

"There's a party in the woods tonight if you ladies want to come. It's going to be sick. I'm about to head out, if you're interested."

"What do you think, Alex?"

"I don't know," she said.

"I'll smoke you out," Jacob offered.

He prepared a bong for them. Alex pressed the glass to her mouth and Laura lit the weed with her plastic pink lighter. Alex inhaled the THC, the magic, the medicine, and reclined backward next to Laura on Jacob's bed. Almost immediately after smoking, her stomach settled, but the good times didn't roll for very long, for as Jacob watched her toke up, a hot sensation flew from her chest to the back of her skull.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked. "Do I scare you?"

She wondered if he could read her thoughts. "Not anymore."

"Good. I'm rehabilitated, you know. I'm a clinical sociopath, but thanks to you, I've had lots of therapy to teach me how to pretend I'm not." Jacob took a rip out of the bubbler and as smoke came off his lips, he said, "I would have apologized to you, but your parents took out that restraining order."

"I know. I shouldn't be here."

"Relax, princess. Jesus. As long as nobody tells the cops, we're good. I'm really not a bad guy. 'Round here everybody looks at me like I'm the fucking boogeyman. I'll be the first to admit I had issues back then. I was angry, but I'm not anymore. So, don't worry. Are we cool?"

Alex couldn't believe what she was hearing. She cuddled up against Laura and closed her eyes. "Yes. We're cool, Jacob."

"Good. Hey. We should get going if we're gonna make that party," he said, stuffing some baggies in his pocket. "You coming?" His invitation was an offer to let Alex confront everything she had feared as a child. She would see Ghost Woods from the other side of the looking glass. Instead of fearing the dark elements, she would become a part of them.

"Yeah. Sure," she said, smiling to Laura. And they followed Jacob out of the house.

__________________________

Music: "Sing for Absolution" Muse

I wanted this chapter to feel like Ariel going to the sea witch to ask for help. If you look carefully there are subtle allusions to that. Did you notice them on your own?