Sunsetters

  Prologue

  I have been sentenced to death … twice. I never thought I would die this young, one year shy of my seventeenth birthday. Death row. After my sentencing I ran and went into hiding but death seemed to find me. Thinking I would be able to escape the inevitable, I sought refuge in the unknown, but I was so wrong. In the quiet sequestered borough of Shadowbend Falls I never imagined I would dance with the Grim Reaper once again.

  Will it hurt? When you die is it like falling asleep?

  As he moves in closer, his glowing eyes are fueled with rage and anger—not for what I did but who I am. I am ready to accept the beauty of death if paradise takes me away from this physical pain. Nervously but patiently, I wait as my executioner glides with grace towards me. His sweet, intoxicating scent mesmerizes me; I am unable to move.

  I slowly close my eyes. The last image I see is that of my predator. I am finally ready to embrace what waits for me … eternal rest.

  Chapter 1

  I have fought death ever since I was born. Twelve years ago, my parents tried to kill me on the night of my fourth birthday. I eagerly awaited the party guests who would never show. I remember it clearly like it was yesterday. My father had dressed me up in a cute, light pink floral dress and had parted my hair in two long curly pigtails. He was careful to tie a neat pink bow towards the bottom, securing my ends. His blond hair glistened under the kitchen light, which in actuality was from the sweat seeping from his pores. The blond stubble below his nose would normally have been removed by now. It was unlike my father to be unshaven for this long, especially for an event such as my birthday.

  My father’s lips twitched nervously as he continued to fluff my thick, ginger hair. My hair was not the fiery kind of red, but a dark, deep, rich red. They were tanned and blond, but I had red hair and was pale. I looked nothing like my parents. Sitting there awaiting my father’s final moves, I blinked up at him with my amber colored eyes. His soft blue eyes held days of mental anguish. He was exhausted. His hands trembled so badly that he fumbled several times dropping my brush.

  “Okay, m-m-my sweet darling. Now it’s time to go upstairs and get your party shoes.” My father was so nervous he stuttered several more times.

  Glancing around the huge foyer, I anticipated my mother’s appearance at any second. I was privileged, or so I thought. The first four years of my life were spent in the elite North Beverly Hills Peavine Canyon district. Little did I realize my parents rarely—if ever—took me out because I was odd, according to my mother. Runny noses and sore throats were something I never experienced. That was the first sign for my mother. I rarely slept, if ever. My father nonchalantly wrote it off as me being colicky. I never received childhood injuries. It was no secret I was different, and my mother made sure that I knew that every day.

  Racing thoughts danced around in my head like butterflies as I began to wonder why no one had rung the doorbell yet and why there were no birthday decorations in the house.

  “Where are my friends, Daddy?” I asked in my tiny voice. My father finally stood up and glanced down at me.

  “They are on their way, honey,” he lied.

  I could hear my mother’s heels clicking on the marbled floor. She had on a long knee-length black lace gown and five-inch stilettos. Her long banana blond hair flowed down her back and hot pink lipstick was smeared across her lips. My eyes fell to her hand where a liquor bottle was almost drained.

  “Quit asking so many questions and get up stairs, Jeweliette,” my mother managed to say in a sweet voice. “We need to finish getting you dressed. Your friends will be here any moment now.” She stared down at me with icy blue eyes.

  I took my father’s hand as he led me up the spiral staircase. When I glanced back at my mother she had a crazed stare. A slow sneer crept across her mouth; it was like she knew something that I didn’t. I remember getting a little scared. She looked different somehow. Her bone-straight hair, which flowed so freely earlier, was now in a ponytail. My mother kept her right arm behind her back concealing what I figured was an early surprise for my birthday. Her movements were sharp. She looked like an alley cat on the prowl ready to attack its next victim.

  More steps towards my doom.

  My father walked me down the massive hallway and guided me to one of the guest bathrooms. He stopped short of walking in and then shook his head.

  “I cannot do this, Rebecca!” He lowered his head and turned away.

  My mother rolled her eyes and snatched me away from him, leading me into the bathroom, where every light was glaring bright. I had an issue with bright lights and tried to shield my eyes with my free arm. Nothing looked out of place except for a large garden tub of soapy water that still had ripples in it. The bubbles seemed fresh, as if the bath was just drawn. I figured my mom was going to catch a quick wash before the party started since I had bathed earlier.

  “Let’s make sure your face all is clean and I will touch up your hair.” She produced a phony smile. I noticed her teeth were stained with the bubble gum-colored lipstick.

  My mom pulled a clean towel from the vanity cabinet and wiped away at nothing. She spun around to where I faced the bathroom wall and tub.

  “Now,” she softly purred, “I am going to touch up—”

  The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp pain on my head that caused me to momentarily pass out. My mother had apparently pushed me so hard I hit my head on the pebbled wall and drifted to the bottom. I came to with my lungs burning and filling with hot water. Her petite hand, with nails that were neatly manicured with apple red nail polish, appeared from behind her back brandishing a large, clear object. She hit me one time over the head with liquor bottle that she had been drinking out of earlier. Fresh, hot blood trailed down my head from the gaping wound at the top of my scalp. The viscous fluid momentarily blinded my eyes but the scorching water quickly flushed it out.

  “Stay down!” my mother yelled.

  “Mommy!” I gasped, trying to fight so desperately for the air I took for granted. “Mommy, PLE-PLEASE!” Everything burned at the moment: the water, my skin, lungs, and eyes … I kicked and swung my hands at my mother wildly. I only wanted her to bring my head to the surface, even for a second. I needed to breathe. I wanted to live. So many things were going through my head. I could not understand why my mother was doing this to me. I continued to fight for my life underneath the scalding hot bath water as more soapy fluid entered my body though my nose, ears, eyes, and mouth.

  My mother stopped momentarily and brought her hands to her head like she had a migraine. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

  “She is trying to get inside of my head again! Jim!” my mother yelled. “Get over here now!” Her face was deranged as she changed into an entirely different person. I tried to get up from my soon-to-be watery grave, but she backhanded me knocking me down once more. “Die, Jeweliette! Just die! You evil monster!”

  I wildly flailed my hands about like a mad man. Small details that I would have never noticed became evident. The pin-sized mole sitting above the corner of her right lip looked like a wart. My mother’s blond strands had slipped from the ponytail that she had thrown together making her appear demonic. She looked a lion devouring her cubs. Her lips were drawn up tightly at the corners of her mouth into a snarl. Saliva pooled at the edges of her mouth like a rabid dog.

  “Why won’t you just die? How. Many. Times. Do. I. Have. To. Kill. You!”

  This was not the first time your mom wanted you dead … a voice out of nowhere said to me. Your time is not up yet. There is much more that awaits you … Fight!

  “I should have killed you years ago!” my mother growled. The loving woman who looked forward to me being a girl scout or becoming the next Miss America had transformed into some wic
ked, frenetic woman that I didn’t know. My survival instincts kicked in, and I wanted to survive.

  My father hesitated but rushed over. It literally took the two of them to hold me down in the water mother secretly drew for me only moments before. The coldness in her eyes never blinked, the coldness never wavering. My pleas fell on deaf ears. Through the sudsy, rippled water that stung my eyes and burned the inside of my chest, I could see my father’s tear-stained face. The last image I saw was my father mouthing the words “I am sorry.”

  Chapter 2

  Dear Jewel,

  Hey I like uoy. Would uoy like to be ym girlfriend?

  Please check ____yes or ____no

  Bryce Thompson

  I sat on the toilet in the girl’s bathroom and struggled to read the letter with some jumbled words. Not jumbled, backwards. I absolutely detested school and my life at this moment. The most popular boy at school had a crush on me and all the girls who liked him despised me. When I saw the brown bag sitting on top of my book bag I thought I was receiving a birthday gift, but instead it was a letter I could barely decipher. I crumbled up the letter and flushed it down the toilet. What a wonderful way to spend my sixteenth birthday—closed away in such a smelly place.

  The beating against the bathroom door caused me to violently shudder. It was hit with so much force that the tiny cream flakes danced around in the air like pixie dust. The hinges wiggled and creaked underneath the pressure of the tiny fists on the other side of my barrier. The loud clatter of the lunch tray against my knees overshadowed the continuous jostling of the door keeping me enclosed safely within the dingy stall. I strained to peep through the cracks of the door but the constant flow of tears behind my glasses clouded my vision.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “Why are you hiding? Get out here, you weirdo!” one shrill female voice yelled.

  Asher.

  “Come on out, you little four-eyed firecracker, or I will drag you out by your ugly red hair!” another voice angrily demanded.

  Maddy.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “I don’t care if Bryce likes you. He is mine!” Asher angrily shouted from the other side of the bathroom door.

  One, two. One, two…

  I tapped my leg, counting. It was a breathing exercise I’d learned from countless hours in therapy, but it wasn’t working now. Years of agonizing emotions struck me in my gut like a clenched fist. My heart rate increased. I had grown tired of eating my lunch in the bathroom to get away from the mean girls. The tiny toilet pained me greatly and the strong smell of urine unpleasant. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich I tried to wolf down melted in my clenched hand. Bryce Thompson had taken a major liking to me. He was the first boy who had showed me interest and was everything any girl dreamed of. He had tried several times to ask me out on a date but there was no attraction to him on my part. The result: I developed enemies.

  I had grown tired of fighting.

  It is not going to work. Your time is not up, yet, my inward heroine’s voice echoed in the back of my mind.

  The scorching tears flooded my cheeks as I plopped down onto the toilet. I pulled out a mini blade that I had made from a shaving razor. I closed my eyes ready to end it all and pressed down deeply making a horizontal move. I tuned out what was going on outside the stall and waited to slip away. After a few minutes, I was upset because I was still alive. Breathing. Opening my eyes, I glanced down to see that the inflicted death move had barely bled. The gaping wound was not superficial and healed almost instantly. I was baffled as to what was going on with my body. I should have bled out by now.

  The constant jeering brought my attention to the nagging voice that tried to warn me—my inward heroine, the voice that appeared out of nowhere when my parents tried to drown me. She was more of a safety net, my protector, a guide I was fortunate to have but not appreciative of.

  What are you doing? my inward heroine said in a soothing voice. What is going on outside that door will eventually change. All situations change. You might not see that now but all problems will resolve and then it will be over so you can move on with your life. Harming yourself in such way is final decision and can never be undone. I understand that you are trying to escape all of the painful situations you have encountered in the past, that you have had to fight all of your life to survive. Some of the most magnificent creations are born from the worst conditions. Have you ever thought that you might have a purpose? That you could be the sole reason why someone else lives? You never know who will enter your life in the future and the role you will play in their ultimate happiness.

  I calmly took the razor and wrapped it in a toilet tissue. The jeering in the background became a faded sound.

  But remember, you and only you have the ultimate power in determining and controlling your own destiny. Be patient. The best part of your life is still to come, my inward heroine continued softly.

  She instructed me to throw the lunch tray over the bathroom door. Do it now! It will alert someone.

  I was hesitant but did not waste time. The vomit green lunch tray went flying over the door.

  “Ugh!” Maddy screamed in anger.

  The hail of fists upon the battered door came to a complete halt after my lunch tray landed on the floor with a loud thud. I placed my ear close to the stall’s door and waited until I heard the last scatter of feet disappear.

  Do not open the door, my inward heroine warned.

  Against my better judgment, I quickly adjusted my glasses and slowly opened the bathroom door. My hands shook so badly the door squeaked as if it was swaying back and forth. I did not see any evidence of my tormentors. Taking a leap of faith, I quietly stepped outside of the door.

  What followed next remained foggy.

  The swift motion of a hand met my upper cheek as if it were swatting at a fly. I fell into the door, which gave way causing me to fall back onto the toilet. The sound of my glasses hitting the floor elicited snickering from the girls who were bystanders. The stinging of the left side of my face came next, followed by the watering of my eyes again. I forced the tears not to fall. I refused to cry.

  Laughter erupted as I scanned the room. Without my glasses, my vision was slightly blurry, but I could still make out the faces. Maddy, the 190 pound fifteen-year-old, bared a mouth full of yellow stained teeth at me. She went to football games just to secretly smoke behind the bleachers with her friends. Asher, the frail blonde, stood next to Maddy with her arms folded.

  “I told you, stay away from Bryce!” Asher yelled. Her fists clenched at her sides. I knew she wanted to land another blow to the other side of my face making it even. Several girls congregated behind her.

  You need to stand up for yourself. Fight back! my inward heroine demanded.

  “O-o-one, two-o-o …” I could not get the words to come out.

  “Cat got your tongue? Oh, I forgot you talk to yourself and answer back, weirdo!” Asher turned towards the other girls, leaned her head back, and laughed. The bystanders joined in, not by choice but of fear that they would also end up on Asher’s fist list.

  A small amount of blood trickled from the inside of my mouth. I must have busted my lip when I fell back onto the toilet. The scent of copper filled my nostrils, and I slowly licked my lip. Even though the bleeding was minute, the blood tasted … sweet.

  “I don’t like Bryce,” I whispered. I was not going to fight over some boy. She could have him for all I cared.

  The girls became quiet and glanced at Asher then Maddy to see what their reaction would be. Here they were, fifteen and sixteen-year-old girls acting like they were eight and nine. Maddy took a quick glance at the rowdy spectators and walked towards me with a pudgy, clenched fist. She put all of her body weight into her attack as she lunged forward aiming at my head. I braced myself for the attack as she raised her hand.

  Birds of a feather, I need you now to storm this weather, my inward heroine said.

  Sounds of wings slapping against the only window in the bathroom
halted Maddy’s fist mid air. Maddy’s attention, along with others’, turned to the bathroom window. A blackbird had flown into the window and disappeared. The girls started laughing hysterically once again. I focused on the window, somehow summoning more birds to come forth. Then after a few seconds, another blackbird hit the window cracking it, followed by two more blackbirds. In a matter of minutes the once clear window was solid black. The laughter turned into shrieks once the window shattered into pieces. Blackbirds flooded the bathroom, fluttering and flapping their wings. The chirps sounded like a raging storm. I directed my attention back to Maddy, and three birds followed my vision like a highlighted map. The birds swarmed around her pecking and tearing at her hair and clothes.

  “Agh!” Maddy’s arms flailed wildly, trying to get the birds away.

  One bystander noticed me focusing on Maddy and the birds and immediately accused me.

  “Jewel! It’s Jewel!” she exclaimed.

  “Yeah!” Another girl chimed in. “She is attacking Maddy with the birds!”

  Stop, stop now, my inward heroine advised.

  I shifted my eyes and focus away from Maddy. The birds fluttered back out the window from which they flew. The bathroom was as silent as the walls surrounding us, only with occasional deep breathing and whimpering.

  “I think you killed her,” one girl with braces whispered, breaking the stillness.

  Asher stood in a stupor, too scared to move. A few of the shocked bystanders attempted to rouse Maddy, but she didn’t stir. She was hidden underneath the sink.

  I peeped through the corner of my elbow to see Ms. Smith, the assistant principal, walking towards our direction. I quickly tried to regain my composure, even though I felt that I had just seriously injured or accidently murdered a classmate. Where had the inner strength hailed from to command birds to do my bidding? I felt an immediate rebound of dizziness the room was spinning. One of the girls had retrieved some wet paper towels and dabbed Maddy’s forehead. I watched as Maddy motioned for Asher to come to her. The expression on Maddy’s face was that of pure terror as she tried to move her extremities, all limbs mobile except for her right hand.