“…Before I run out of air, there’s more make-up to apply. Doll eyes stare into Valium colored skies…”
“Can’t you put in something else?” Monet asked, gravitating toward my cd player.
“Touch it and I break your fingers.” I say, pinning up my pink and green hair.
“But he’s so weird.” Monet argued, thumbing through my drawer of cds, “Can’t you put in something else. Like this one?”
I turn to see Monet holding one of my Black Veil Brides cds in her red, fingernail polished, hands. I shake my head, making a stray chunk of hair smack my cheek. Monet sighed and set the cd case back into the drawer. I turn back to face my old Victorian vanity and finish pinning up my hair.
Morticia, Monet’s twin, stood behind me, making sure the pins went where they were meant to go. Morticia’s long, blue, hair continually hit my back when she reached to fix a pin.
“’Ticia? Doesn’t this music unnerve you?” Monet asked, running a long red fingernail across the cd player’s top.
“Don’t touch it!” I say before Morticia can get a word out.
“I don’t mind. For a guy, he is quite gorgeous and talented, even without the electronics.” Morticia answered, her pale hands swatting mine away, deciding to just pin up my hair herself.
“…I’m a beauty killer…”
I watch Monet’s lithe, pale, frame move about my bedroom. Her long violet and black hair was in two ponytails of tight ringlet curls, which bounced with each step she took. Unlike her twin, Monet had one side of her hair black and the other side violet; Morticia just had blue hair all around. Both had small faces and small features. They were like living porcelain dolls. They both were a little on the short side, without their platform boots, and both had thin frames. The only real way to tell them apart was by their hair.
“Quit trying to help. You keep missing the pin placement.” Morticia playfully scolded when I tried to help her out. It was amazing that she didn’t get her many charm bracelets tangled in my hair.
“Are we going to get these pictures taken or what?” Monet asked, becoming impatient, “I can’t stand this music much longer,” she mumbled.
“I got to finish her faux-hawk.” Morticia explained, putting in some of the last pins, “You know Elizabella can’t do this on her own.” She said the last part quietly, as if I couldn’t hear her. I look at her through the mirror. She shrugs.
“There!” She says, spinning my desk chair around to show me the sides. I nod, she did better than I had.
“Now can we get these pictures taken. I need a new industrial.” Monet says, pointing a black, fingerless gloved hand to her ear. I stand up from the chair, nodding.
“…If I can’t be beautiful, I’d rather just die..-”
Monet stops the cd player, “Okay, let’s get this done with!”
I give her a hard stare, “You could have let it finish.”
Monet shrugs and pulls out her phone. Morticia and I do the same. I look over all of us.
Morticia was in an old-styled black Lolita dress, with a bunched up layered skirt and corset styled top. She was wearing black doll-like platform shoes and black stockings. Monet was just wearing a Korn band shirt, black shorts with fishnets and her knee-high platform combat boots. I adjusted the black ribbons holding her ringlet ponytails. She smiled her thanks and turned back to her phone.
My own outfit was a pink Jeffree Star band shirt, with the sleeves cut off, black skinny jeans with chains and suspenders hanging off of them, and black combat boots. I wore my favorite black lace choker with an old cameo hanging from it.
I rubbed the cameo between my fingers while looking at my phone. Morticia and Monet had already finished taking their selfies for the contest and were waiting for me to do the same.
“Hurry! We can’t miss the deadline for this contest!” Monet urged, her ringlets bouncing.
There had been a contest on one of our favorite goth blogs for a chance to win a gift card to some piercing shop Monet seemed to like. I agreed to help her out and enter. Our deal was that if any of us won, we’d give the prize to Monet.
I stood there a moment longer before finally readying the phone and myself to take the picture. After getting into pose, I tapped my phone. I lowered the phone and smiled, “There, Monet. Let’s upload these.” I say.
“Let’s see yours first!” Morticia spoke up, “I spent forever on that hair. I want to see how my work looks in the picture.”
I smile and hand her the phone. Morticia smiles and happily takes it. After a moment her smile faded, “This isn’t funny ‘Elizabella!” Morticia frowned deeply, she looked ready to cry.
“What do you mean? It’s not meant to be funny.” I say.
Monet looks over her sister’s shoulder and her eyes widen in horror, “That’s kind of sick. ‘Bell.”
I look at them incredulously.
“Let me see!” I say taking the phone from Morticia. I shake my head at them, then look at my most recent picture, which should have been of me. It wasn’t.
“What kind of joke are you guys playing? This is too morbid for even my sense of humor!” I say, staring at the grotesque picture on the phone.
“Hey! We didn’t do anything! We didn’t have time to!” Monet defended herself and her twin.
“Well I didn’t do it. I didn’t have the time either!” I say.
All three of our faces fell. None of us had done it, and we all knew it. I ended up dropping my phone, it landed with the picture facing up. It was a picture of Morticia’s boyfriend chained up in a very disturbing angle in what looked like an old dungeon. He was bloody and cut up, but was looking at the camera in a defeated, sad way.
I looked at Morticia who looked ready to breakdown any moment. I grabbed her phone from the table, dialed Fahren, and handed it to her, “Here. Give Fahren a call. I bet he’s just fine. It’s probably one of his sick jokes.” I say. Fahren was known for his incredibly morbid sense of humor, which often bordered on disturbing.
Morticia wiped a smeared trail of mascara from her eye with the back of her hand. She took the phone and listened. She trembled and tried to speak.
“It’s Morticia. Is Fahren in?” Her voice quavered as she spoke. Her eyes widened in horror, “What do you mean? No, I haven’t seen him. O-okay. Yes. Thank you. Bye.” She ended the call and hugged the phone to her chest.
“We’ve got to find him.” Monet says. I nod.
“But we don’t even know where he is, or if he’s still-”
I shake my head at Morticia, cutting her off before she broke down, “No, he’s alive. Come on, let’s go.” I say grabbing my bookbag. Monet did the same. We all raced out the door. There was no telling how much time we had.
We all climbed out of Monet’s car, and slowly made our way toward the old building. Monet hit a button on her keyring to lock the car, but Morticia shook her head saying they would need a quick get away.
“This is where his step-mother told me he was last headed.” Morticia said as we all looked at the old Christian school.
The school was rundown and no longer held classes. The red bricks were precariously holding onto life. Several had already fallen out and laid on the ground. Windows were broken in, no doubt by drunken teenagers looking for a little fun. Vines overtook one whole side of the building and were slowly engulfing the other side. Paint chipped and metal rusted, board rotted and fell away from the boarded up windows.. It looked like a condemned building, sentenced to spend the rest of it’s life in pain and misery.
Monet touched everything in sight, as if she could get a reading on Fahren’s location by doing so. Knowing her, she probably could. Morticia looked out at the old rundown playground. I followed her as she walked gingerly into the school yard.
“Filming another movie?” I ask, touching an old swing. The chains were rusted and would definitely cut open a kid’s hands. In fact there were some rusty stained sections that looked like dried blood.
“I suppose so. It’s creepy enough. I mean he already filmed at that old asylum and the barely together old library. Maybe he was making some film about-”
“Overly religious Christians killing misbehaving children?” Monet finished Morticia’s theory as she entered the yard.
Morticia gave her twin a look. Monet shrugged.
“That is a little morbid and bound to cause an uproar among religious people. He isn’t that disturbed is he?” I say, giving an old merry-go-round a push. It squealed in pain and colorful paint fell to the cold, dead ground. I gave it a solemn look.
Morticia gave a sad smile and nodded.
“Maybe he’s inside?” Monet offered.
“I just want to know how he got chained and beaten so badly. Who would do that?” I think aloud.
“Perhaps there is a religious nut who’s gone crazy?” Monet offered again. Morticia and I looked at her. She shrugged, “I was just thinking.”
I nod. “Let’s go in.” I say. The twins look at me, questioning my mental stability.
“What if he is in there..” Monet begins.
“…and so is the nut job.” Morticia finishes.
“What then?” Monet asks.
I hold up my wrist, which held several spiked bracelets, “We gotta fight back.”
Monet and Morticia looked at me; they didn’t have any other ideas. Both twins agreed and we made a plan to search the lowest level of the building first. Monet made quick work of picking the lock. The door moaned as we opened it, and after a moment of hesitation all of us gingerly walked inside.
The inside looked just as bad as the outside. The once white walls were now a dingy gray and the paint had all but peeled off. Verses from the bible that once hung on the walls had been scribbled out or punched. There were many holes along the hallway, and broken glass was scattered across the floor. The classroom doors were rotted and falling off their hinges. Graffiti covered most of the walls and doors. The broken tiles on the floor creaked and threatened to fall away under our weight. They were just as rotted and unstable as the rest of the building was. A trail of blood was streaked across the walls and walked the floor. A rat scurried along the floor, keeping itself pressed as close to the wall as possible. I watched him for a moment, until he disappeared into one of the holes that had rotted in the wall. The whole place smelled of decay and death.
“This isn’t safe.” Morticia says, glancing upwards. I look up too and see the supports bending. The ceiling was rotted badly in places, so much so that I could look through and see the upstairs’ classrooms.
“We need to be careful and hurry.” I whisper, fearing my voice would cause an avalanche of desks and books from the classrooms above. Both twins nod and we begin to tiptoe around the shattered glass and holes in the floor.
When we made it to the end of the hall an snapping sound echoed and suddenly the ceiling gave way in a spot a few feet away. Two desks came falling through, along with papers and books, glass and plaster. One desk hung precariously from the ceiling, clinging to the floor above desperately.
“Come on.” Monet urged us in a whisper. She pulled our arms and walked us around the corner.
Morticia began trembling. We had to steady her before we continued. Once she had calmed down, we searched the next hallway until Monet found a door leading down to the basement. Morticia whimpered and clung to Monet’s arm. I gently traced whatever had been etched into the doorway. It was pretty rubbed away, but I could feel the crevices of whatever had once been there.
“Elizabella.” Monet breathed. I came back to reality and watched as she and Morticia had began to descend the stairs. I slowly and carefully follow them.
The steps cried out as we treaded upon them. I feared they would give way any moment. Monet helped Morticia clear the big section of missing steps. When they reached the bottom they cleared the way. I quickly jumped the section and landed with a thud. I began to fall backward but Monet caught me and pulled me back up.
“I can’t see a thing.” Monet says.
I run my hand along the wall to keep myself from falling over. Morticia links arms with me, using me as a crutch. We walk blindly for the longest time before we see a dim light.
“He’s got to be down there!” Monet says. Morticia and I put a finger to our lips to silence her. Monet nods and takes off around the corner.
“No, Monet-” I whisper-call her.
I take off following her, with Morticia in tow. Upon rounding the corner, we find Monet struggling to free Fahren. Morticia lets got of my arm and races to help her sister. I don’t move. It seemed all too easy. I glance around the room, looking for cameras or traps, but all that was down there was Fahren.
There was blood spattered and puddling on the ground, and it all smelled like road kill. I cringed and gingerly stepped in. Something didn’t feel right. I decide to just hurry and help out the twins. That way we could get out of there fast.
Monet had picked most of the locks and Morticia was slowly freeing Fahren from the chains. He looked terrible. He was cut up and bloody, his black tee shirt was torn and his leg was twisted at a disturbing angle. I cringed at the scene, but helped get him up. Monet and I hauled him out and around the corner, with Morticia following. She played with his depleted, orange, spiked hair and assured him he was going to get medical help.
“Monet, something isn’t right,” I whisper to her, “this was too easy.
Monet nods, “I know. Just don’t think about it. Let’s see how far we can get before someone notices,” she whispers back. I nod, still wary of the whole thing.
Once we reentered the hallway above, we walked as fast we could hauling a dead weight. Fahren often made unintelligible noises, letting us know he was still holding on. Morticia whimpered anytime he made a noise. Monet and I struggled to lug him around the fallen desks, while Morticia watched the ceiling.
When we finally escaped to the outside Monet, Morticia, and I took off in a sprint with Fahren, to Monet’s car. Morticia and I settled Fahren in the backseat while Monet jumped in front and started up the car. She sped off once we were all in the car.
It’s been two weeks. Fahren still won’t say anything about what happened to him, but Morticia is slowly getting it from him. Monet is lurking around my house, waiting for the results to be announced. I am sleeping most of the time.
“Elizabella! Morticia! Come here!” Monet yells.
I roll and fall out of my bed and walk to her, adjusting my thigh-high socks on the way. Morticia and Fahren enter the room, holding hands and talking softly to each other. Monet motions for us to all come over.
“What’s so great?” I ask, scratching my pink and green hair.
“Morticia won!” Monet announces, jumping out of the seat. Morticia’s eyes widen and she starts giggling.
“Yes. The mods loved your cute Lolita outfit.” Monet says, showing Morticia the page on my laptop. Fahren smiles and pecks her cheek.
“We need a picture for record!” Monet exclaims. Morticia and I agree.
Monet readies her phone while I grab the laptop. I stand between the twins, holding the laptop to show the page proclaiming Morticia’s win. Fahren leans against Morticia and we all squeeze in close.
“Ready?” Monet says and taps her phone. All of us smile.
We all scatter once the picture is taken. I set my laptop back on my desk and walk back to Monet. Monet, Morticia, and Fahren were already looking at the picture. I glance over their shoulders and gasp in horror.