2Chris Gardner: Thank you for reviewing! I wrote this chapter especially for you. Hope you like it! (Hope it's starting to be more than a beginning now, though).
Almost everyone say most people's interesting feature is their eyes. She thought it was a cliché. But clichés aren't clichés unless they're true. This 5-year-old girl was certainly no exception. People say the bleached resemblance of blue or dusty green in your eyes automatically label them as stunning. They look more like they were stunned. Brown eyes were considered so... normal. Kathryn's eyes burst open the stereotypes. They weren't really a color. The light filtering in the room didn't seem to reach the pupils, making them unnaturally dark. The eyes were so large and bulbous that they swallowed you, pulling you into the gloom. Her eyes made a startling contrast to her skin, which looked like it had never seen the light of day. Kathryn's lips were rather thin and colorless, but they added mystique to the mysterious little girl. At the second, they were frozen in a disapproving frown. Dusty blond framed her face. It fell a few inches past her shoulders. Unlike her eyes, they swallowed the light instead. Parts of it glinted while she moved, but most of it was a muted color. Her clothes were Salvation Army-worthy. Kathryn was definitely eye-catching, if not beautiful. A few nonsensical words flitted through Ms. Reynolds' head as she examined her. She was the Devil's Angel. The little girl was a dead creature. She looked dead.
"Mommy," the girl whined. "They aren't dollies. You told me they were dollies- where did you go?" Ms. Reynolds and the little girl realized at the same moment that the sharp-angled woman had disappeared. The front door was still swinging shut.
"Come on Kathryn. Mommy wanted you to have fun here! I'm Ms. Kathryn, and I'm going to be your 'Teacher's Assistant'. Mrs. Moto, your teacher, is over there finishing storytime. So now we're going to watch the TV. Teletubbies is on. Do you like Teletubbies? Go on. Sit with the other kids and make some friends," Ms. Reynolds said in a comforting, sickly sweet voice she used on every single frightened new kid.
Instead of the innocent smile or a cry for her Mommy she expected from the little girl, Kathryn just stared at the group sitting crosslegged in front of the tiny TV. She glanced around and fixed Ms. Reynolds with a stony glare. Another set of thoughts flew through the woman's head as Kathryn just kept staring. And staring. The girl was reminding her of... well, she was so disturbing. Ms. Reynolds had just seen 'Hannibal' and the resemblance of the stares was uncanny. An urge to throw the girl away onto the streets was quickly stifled when Mrs. Moto cut through her thoughts.
"Ms. Reynolds? Can you go make the snacks now? The natives are restless. Let Kathryn in."
"Fine. I'm going to freshen up a bit first. Kathryn, in you go."
Ms. Reynolds couldn't resist a look at the retreating back of the girl. She stood there until Kathryn had shuffled reluctantly into the cheery atmosphere, and the woman was left with her own thoughts.
**********
She was humming contendly as she sliced the sandwiches. Ms. Reynolds had a date to look forward to after work. Sam, Sam, Sam, she thought dreamily. Maybe he would be the new Mr. Reynolds? Giddiness swept through her and she checked herself in the sink worriedly. The kids were about to get picked up any moment now and Ms. Reynolds' own Prince Charming was going to pick her up as well.
Oh no! Her lipstick. Oh. Oh. Um. Her lipstick! She hadn't put it on yet in the bathroom! She could've never have missed it. Where was it? Ms. Reynolds rushed back to the bathroom.
And stopped.
The mirror.
Oh dear Lord.
Every single inch was covered with words. Red Rum. Red Rum. Ms. Reynolds stumbled into the room. It was her lipstick. It was written in her lipstick. The tube lay empty on the ground. Red Rum. The words swam in her eyes. What-who did it? What did it mean?
Guilt at the word 'rum' suddenly choked her for a second. Rum was what she had been drinking the day she had lost her virginity at a bar last week. Cheating on Sam. Ms. Reynolds touched the mirror absently.
Kathryn. One word echoed through her head. Kathryn. Ms. Reynolds' eyes focused on the door at the end of the hallway. She was there. The sensible part of Ms. Reynolds knew the little girl was probably staring intently at the TV set just like all the other children. The other part told Ms. Reynolds to prove it.
Like a madwoman, she dashed to the door. And opened it.
Red.
More red.
For a moment, Ms. Reynolds thought she was back in the bathroom, staring at those red, red words. 'Red Rum'. She was staring at those words. 'Red Rum' was carved on every single face of the children, carved on the face and the chest of Mrs. Moto. Ms. Reynolds' senses were so hyper alert they hurt. She saw every single detail.
Their mouths were open and slashes made their way through their faces. Bits of scalp and hair littered the ground. Most of the bodies lay unharmed, except for the faces. Some of the children had missing limbs, with the remaining flesh giving evidence of slowly hacking away. Teletubbies blared loudly in the background.
No.
No, no, no.
Yes. Yes, it was all real.
Where was the girl? Ms. Reynolds was staring at the scene quietly, but her internal alert system was screaming. She knew the calm would slip away if she didn't know where the girl was. Where was Kathryn?
Kathryn.
The Devil's Angel. Where was she? The dead creature. She was dead. Just like all the other bodies in the room. Yes, she should be dead.
Sudden, hysterical laughter burst out of Ms. Reynolds. Dead! Like her! Like Mrs. Moto! Like the children, like the blood, like-like Red Rum.
Aha! Red Rum was a puzzle huh?! Thoughts in Ms. Reynolds' head whirled around crazily. Red Rum meant murder, huh? Murder! 'Murder' backwards! Ha. A joke. Yes murder. But all of this wasn't murder. It wasn't murder. Just dead. Deadness. It was all just dead people. No murder. Just dead dead dead dead.
Red.
Just red. Just red, dead people.
Something was squishy under her foot. Ms. Reynolds looked at it distractedly. She was still happy from solving the puzzle that Kathryn gave her. The dead girl gave her the puzzle. Ha! She had solved it. Where was the gold star her teacher always put on her forehead when she did something right? Put it right on my forehead, teacher. Yes. I'm proving that I'm smart and capable and perfect.
Wait. What was it? It looked like a hand. A hand. It was red. It was so red.
Ms. Reynolds froze and snapped back to reality. She let out a shriek. It died out to a rasp, and the woman collapsed. She saw red again. Ms. Reynolds had splashed the red all over herself as she landed in a red, red puddle near the hand. Red. Ms. Reynolds let out a whimper and saw nothing more.
Kathryn came out of her corner and stared at the unmoving body of the woman. She slid her gaze to all of the rest of the bodies. They weren't any different. Kathryn dropped her ice pick and left the room.
Mommy said to wait for her on the curb. She would do that. Kathryn sat on the curb and hummed to herself.
**********
A/N: Finally I got somewhere with this fic! Right now, it's still too confusing and cliché, but I just need to write more to fill the blanks. Again, bear with me. R&R!
P.S: It's midnight ok? I'm having a hard time writing this, and the only thing I can get to come out is crap. Plus, I'm actually scaring myself writing this. I just watched a biography about Charles Manson, ok? Don't blame me. *shiver*