Unraveled

By Tommy Cornell

The 2nd novel from the Larson trilogy: Continue along side Samantha Larson as the circumstances of the past year have taken a tremendous strain on her, and her family. How does she go on when her once stable existence has been flipped upside down, and everything she held dear to her heart was really a cruel delusion laced with devious treachery? How will Samantha outlive the underhandedness of her accusers? Will she audaciously withstand the mortals that orchestrate her demise? Samantha’s young life depends on it, and hangs in the balance...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tommy Cornell
• Release date: Jul 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476377391

Book preview

* Unraveled *

(Book Two, Part Two)

- The 2nd novel from the Larson trilogy. -

By

Tommy Cornell

Copyright 2012 by Tommy Cornell

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Repercussions

Chapter 2 - Deja Vu

Chapter 3 - Malfeasant

Chapter 4 - Wild Oats

Chapter 5 - The Need for Speed

Chapter 6 - Misunderstood

Chapter 7 - Utopia

Chapter 8 - Whiplash

Chapter 9 - Reconciliation

Chapter 10 - Rebuilding Bridges

Chapter 11 - Weakness

Chapter 12 - Overexposed

Chapter 13 - Confessions

Chapter 14 - Anything for Love

Chapter 15 - Best Laid Plans

Chapter 16 - Changing of the Guard

Chapter 17 - Power Play

Chapter 18 - Masquerade

Chapter 19 - Eye of the Storm

Chapter 20 - Broken

Chapter 21 - Demoted

Chapter 22 - Desperate Measures

Chapter 23 - Damage Control

Chapter 24 - Fool’s Gold

Chapter 25 - Resolutions

Chapter 26 - Repossessed

Chapter 1 - Repercussions

The effulgent black Aston Martin groaned as the magnanimous machine swirled thereabout the slick winding arcs. Romping and cavorting asunder throughout the otherwise serenity of overgrown countryside, as if discharged from a loaded cannon. Squinting through the viscous foliage, the overreaching moonscape was holding an intimate watchful eye over us.

I unfastened the restraining claw clip and tethered my fluttering dark mane freely into the sweltering, tepid night. Vertiginously upending the innumerable hours of preproduction, I was, at last, permitted to distend carelessly, wreaking pandemonium on my preserved facade. Ahhhhhh!!! I can’t wait to exhale out of this suffocating, binding excuse for a Maid of Honor gown. I have the desperate desire to resume respiring normally once again!

Have I told you how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight?

Mitchell, my love... at least a dozen times... My blissful semblance overshadowed the full moon’s splendid radiance.

He smiled openly with an impeccable smile that only he could manufacture. Okay, okay... Sorry. I just didn’t notice anybody else at the reception. You were the picture of perfection and a boundless display of everlasting beauty.

My heart stopped -- and then kick started afresh. Mitchell never ceased to dazzle my affinity with his unremitting adoration for me. His daily critique of my physical composition consistently captures me without guard. It never seems to get boring. And I certainly don’t feel deserving of its pleasurable delectation. I just hope I could equate to his towering lofty expectations of me. Notwithstanding, I have since cultivated a healthy spell of nervous leg syndrome.

A tinge of electricity wound up my spine, exploding into a bursting fountain of high voltage synergy. I can taste the blood red corpuscles rushing to infiltrate my cheeks, as the burning warmth scattered outwardly from my inner core. I am bracing myself for another circle of euphoric out-of-body experience.

So this is love? So this is what the entire world is scouring the universe for? An exclusive soul mate for a living lifetime? That opposing half that encompasses all of the luster and qualities that is missing in ones self, joining together so exquisitely that the two are morphed into one undivided entity?

Well I just think it’s simply awesome.

I turned away to capture the heart of this moment, yearning to never let it slither from me. Gazing out to the right, I was hypnotized by the endless layers of deep woodland swallowing us whole. Being content was as foreign to me as a pimple was to my sister Chrissy’s forehead.

They make a great couple, don’t you think? His fingers danced and stroked my shoulder affectionately.

Huh? Who? I staggered to regain composure.

Marty and Emily... Where did you drift to this time Sam?

Yes... They were destined to be together. I firmly nodded in perpetual agreement.

Like us. He stared rectilinear and steadfast over the narrow constrict of pavement.

I whipped my head toward him while consuming my lower lip. Mitchell... Can I ask you a question?

Anything. Mitchell responded gleefully.

I stuttered wretchedly, Would... I mean... Do you think that you would ever get tired of me? I whisked beneath my soggy eyes with the base of my palm.

What? Are you joking? The swift sound of his voice startled me.

I shrugged morbidly.

What brought this on?

I don’t know... I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. My head lowered in drastic position.

Samantha Louise Larson, there is no place else I would ever want to be than right here beside you.

I can sense his fiery eyes perched upon my face. But you can do much better... So much better. My voice trailed to a distant whimper.

Stop it Sam! We have gone through this a thousand times! I have wanted to meet you for so long, and now I finally have you. I am not letting you go for anything! His voice elevated in clattering anger.

Then came the deafening silence. He repeatedly wagged his head in disgust.

I reached for his hand. Mitchell please promise me one thing.

What? He lurched his hand away from me and downshifted into a turning lane.

Don’t ever cheat on me...

He slammed his foot on the break-peddle. The car screeched to a screaming halt. My body held firm against the leather seat belt. Our heads snapped back attuned with the centrifugal force.

Samantha!!! What the...? Where the hell is this coming from?

I just don’t think I could handle it. I clutched my chest as if receiving heart failure.

You know you’re crazy? We better call your physiatrist and get all your prescriptions refilled. He thrusted his arms overhead.

Oh I know you have been faithful. It’s just that it’s only been a few months.

He pointed. And what does that huge shiny rock on your finger mean to you?

I stretched out my left arm and lowered it on the dashboard. The glowing facets glittered amidst the pitchy interior. Then abruptly, the infused brilliance went dim.

I was speechless and isolated once again. I felt sickly safe amongst the emptiness. My close friends, despair and devastation, returned to consume me like I was meant to be. No more expectations. No more fear. No more wondering what could have been.

Samantha! His voice beckoned.

I closed my eyes.

Hey Sam! He squeezed my hand in authority and lifted it beside his cheek. His heated breath revived my frostbitten fingers. The contact of his right hand rippled through my scalp.

Slowly I raised my head.

The luster returned to my engagement ring and, once again, I skewed from its never-ending incandescence.

Mitchell motioned over my shoulder. I turned to notice a thick ominous storm cloud escaping away from the moon’s direct view.

I am not a very superstitious soul, but I do pay attention to irrefutable unexplained phenomenon. I don’t mean unidentified flying objects or little green aliens. I am talking about those tangible freakish episodes that seem to be orchestrated by some unknown controlling power.

Case in point. The undeniable fact that my engagement ring went obscure at just that appointed time. Why was the only cloud in the sky crossing the moon’s orbit at that exact point in time? What does it all mean? Does it even really matter? Or has my warped, superstitious brainwaves overruled my conscious, as it usually does?

I was glad that Mitchell kept the conversation moving, because I too easily veer off course and my medications.

What did you think of Emily’s crazy wedding dress? She needed and army just to keep it in line!

Oh stop it Mitchell! Emily is a very passionate and extravagant young lady. I thought she made an exceedingly bold statement.

Our acceleration diminished as we approached the Ekkland County railroad station. Warning lights and bells were blaring as the black and white striped wooden gate descended to encumber any forward advancement.

So Marty really had the hots for you? Mitchell smirked twistedly.

Why wouldn’t he? I’m pretty damned cute! My tantalizing fingers perused his slight, manicured beard.

I’m just saying... He’s a nice kid and all. Just not your type.

"Oh... And who exactly is my type?" I defensively crossed my arms across my chest.

I am, of course! His perfect teeth reflected against the glossy moonlit firmament.

Well, Mr. Mitchell Davis, that goes without saying. I crawled my hand around the base of his neck just below his ear and smothered a jumbo soaking wet kiss upon his right cheek, maneuvering my tongue engaging his full pouting lips.

Hold on! Do you want to cause an accident! There is a massive train churning in front of us! He held his breath and bit his lip with mighty strenuous downward force.

My eyes fixated onto his cobalt blue orbs. I would die with you tonight if that was written in our eternal fate.

Um... well... let’s do a little living first, shall we sweetheart? The caboose trailed by and Mitchell flattened the accelerator pedal against the floorboard. Quickly, and void of any lagging hesitation, the speedometer swiftly escalated upward of eighty-five miles per hour.

These events triggered the repressed memories of another wild and feverish car ride. What ever became of Armando? Not a night goes by when I do not fantasize about him. Our budding romance was severed before it had a chance to cultivate.

Tonight’s trajectory was fastly approaching the Ekkland County suspension bridge where Armando and I had our showdown with the law last summer. That fateful day will forever be etched into my permanent memory. At the height of the police chase, Armando’s black Porsche decided to terminate its own life. We were stranded midway with no way off other then over the side. It made no difference that this historic event occurred so long ago. My suffering renewed itself each day.

Tonight’s shearing pain was no less numbed, but amplified and fortified. My pulse began to veer out of control, and terror seized my insides as our infamous location is now clearly in focus. I have never returned to this proximity since. Furthermore, I have always carefully plotted an alternate course whenever it was necessary for me to leave Ekkland County.

With considerable sessions of hyper intense therapy, which included mega doses of prescribed medication, this area of my progress had never completed matured. My only escape from this agony was to repress the haunting horripilations and crawl onward with a fake persona to pacify the myriad of clinical evaluations. Having been locked away for four months was beneficial for most of my internal struggles, but Armando’s profound impression could not be erased and refitted if it took an entire lifetime.

I squeezed Mitchell’s arm hard. Stop! Now! My breaths were abridged and abbreviated.

What? He jolted and recoiled to the side.

Now! We need to stop up ahead! I pointed and howled with an anguished heart.

What are you talking about? He asked in dazed wonderment.

Mitchell was clueless and unaware of my secret bottomless hunger. Purposely, I never confessed any steamy details to him about my escapades with Armando. It was for the best. I knew that Mitchell would never completely understand, even though he would certainly try. I did not want to introduce him to my personal grisly demons. He was truly amazing and an outstanding man with an endless loving style of treatment. I simply didn’t want to deal with the over burdening drama I would extrapolate onto him.

I need to get some fresh air! My moaned and contorted body heaved.

"Here? You want to get out here? We are almost to town." He objected.

I unbuckled the seat belt and tossed it aside. Laying my hands upon the steering wheel, I pleaded with him. It can’t wait until then!

Mitchell shoved my arm aside and downshifted. Before the vehicle came to a complete stop, I sprang out of the passenger door. The hem of my gown created a deadly situation as it wrapped around the lower seat adjustment lever. Helplessly, I tumbled onto the thick pavement and trundled over onto my back.

Samantha! Mitchell’s voice beckoned loudly.

I was stunned and disoriented, trying desperately to gain any decency of composure. Blood oozed from a nasty scrape on my upper arm, just above my left elbow.

Mitchell scurried around the car. What in the hell are you doing? Are you completely insane?

His enraged voice penetrated my eardrums as he helped me to my feet. Sorry... I’m such a klutz! This lame attempt at any meaningful explanation was all I could muster.

You could have been killed! I just don’t understand your hair-brained antics sometimes, Samantha Larson. You make me completely mad!

Bearing down with all of my weight on his arm, I felt my left ankle swelling with blood. You’re so right Mitchell, my love. This was an incredibly stupid thing to do. I was being careless again. My eyelashes batted uncontrollably as they signaled for his free forgiveness.

Well... Okay, as long as you are alright. He removed his handkerchief from his breast pocket and tenderly blotted my wound. Maybe I should take you to the emergency room?

No! I balked and took a slow intake of air. It’s just a tiny scratch.

I recoiled sharply when Mitchell applied further pressure onto the gash. For your sake it better not be broken. He frowned hard in frustration. I really don’t know how you get through the day without maiming yourself!

Oh come on... How could it be broken? I cupped my palms against his gorgeous face and kissed his mouth in tiny tasty bits. Thank you for always being concerned about me. I am in love with you forever because of your unfailing understanding.

My soulful words quickly diffused his ire like they always do, and his stiff body language

deflated like air escaping from a bursting balloon.

You know that the emergency department at Ekkland County Memorial Hospital has a room dedicated in your honor? Mitchell laughed loudly.

I tilted my head and curled my lip.

Sorry. He nervously cleared his throat.

I walked to the edge of the railing and peered over the side. There was nothing but fathomless darkness down below.

Going for a swim? His expression was perplexed and sarcastic.

I gave no response.

"And why did we have to stop at this particular spot?" He questioned me further.

Lifting my hand to interrupt, I need a minute... Okay?

He stood motionless behind me. His sighs irritated my frazzled nerve endings.

Mitchell, please go back to the car! I turned and sternly barked my orders.

Was it the shrimp? It didn’t look too good you know.

I chuckled harshly and shook my head at our disconnection. Yeah... It was probably the shrimp...

I never ate the shrimp. And he already knew from past experiences that I detested seafood of any kind, except tuna fish from a round tin can. Droplets jetted from the tiny seams of my eyes and splashed somewhere over the caliginous oblivion.

Okay Sam... I’ll be waiting in the car. Don’t fight it. Just heave everything up. You’ll feel so much better afterwards, I promise. I’ve been there many times, babe.

I simpered as a peered into the subterranean abyss. If only it was that simple. I doubt Mitchell has been anywhere I have. I would have loved to purge Armando’s brutal memories from my broken life story months ago, if it were that easy. Subsequently, I am finding it extremely arduous to move on with my life without knowing what became of him. Just rehashing about him tossing helplessly amidst the choppy waters below, screaming my name, splintered my already bleeding heart.

The strength discharged from my legs as I leaned forward over the railing with bare, white knuckles. The agony contorted into my stomach as I strained to fight the fluid recollection of my only first love. I knew that I would repeatedly lose this battle again and again, only to relive those horrifying events over and over, until I finally dissolved into dust.

Then I would finally see Armando again.

But what about Mitchell Davis? He was my assigned, dependable savior on earth. He was the only person besides Mom that never left my side throughout my downward spiral. The two of them came to visit me in the institution every day, without missing a single solitary second.

They were the granite to my sand. Together they created a compelling force to be reckoned with. One of them I can handle, but the two together overpowered me. My pain became their pain, and they never gave up a stitch of hope for my full mental recovery.

My mortal existence has, at no time, teetered between the never and always. My cellular imprint has a propensity for only one or the other -- and adding a major portion of intensity for kicks. In a phrase: I am programmed to feel way too much.

Latching on to both halves of my skull, I shut my eyes tight and ground my molars. Make it stop... I’m begging... Please... Make it all go away...

But it would never go away. Not fully, not partially, not even a mere speck. The emotional ties were engrained profoundly into my marrow, invading my nucleus. To escape Armando’s branding, my mind would have to exist inside a vacuum, or sufficiently and integrally brain dead.

Samantha, my love?

There it was! The voice of resonating strength. My passionate and understanding present-day other half. The devotional man of the real world. The one moral existence I know will never leave me stranded and alone. The forces of nature, physical and emotional, could never get past him. He was steadfastly fixed to the earth’s mantle.

I felt warm caressing arms engulf me and pull me into gentile tightness. Loving warm, delicate kisses nestled my neck and shoulders. My internal temperature climbed and life resumed within my veins again. Like a special adrenaline miracle pill, my anguish quietly subsided, and brain activity replaced to slightly below normal levels.

He was my daily placebo.

Are you feeling a little better now, my sweetheart?

The sultry dusky voice saturated my frayed nervous system and engorged itself between my synapses. I joyously spun and enveloped my arms around his torso like magnet to a block of cold steel. Every time I went missing, he pulled me back again. And he did it with such opulent pleasure.

He kissed the top of my head and sighed unevenly. My moist tears evaporated on the front of his rented tuxedo, as I fixated on his melodic heartbeat.

Many minutes of silent bliss passed.

Fingers intermingled, we strolled back to his car. Like a true gentleman, he politely opened the door and I entered. Just after I was comfortably sitting, he crossed the strap to secure me until it snapped shut. Another paramount example of the extent of his protection that enshrouded me.

I affectionately reached for him and pressed my lips tightly to his. My balance was restored -- for now. Just another manic episode laid to rest.

I love you Mitchell Davis. I will always love you... I whispered tenderly.

Ditto, and ditto again, honey, he reciprocated.

My head leaned backward and I closed my eyes tight. The roar of the engine regained life. A very different way to leave the Ekkland County suspension bridge, than the way we entered. The remainder of the journey would be calming, as the speed limit would not be breached anymore tonight.

Curled up and content, I lowered my head and quickly drifted off to slumber.

The dreams ran together as if edited by a dislocated octopus. Dominating the starring role was my ever talented and picturesque older sister Chrissy. Mostly from younger and innocent times, but an occasional cut scene from last year’s many dramatic exchanges. At least she didn’t murder me again... But the night was still young and fresh...

I felt a strong grasp at my left shoulder as I flopped about.

My love, wake up. We are here! Mitchell’s voice was as musical as a spring morning serenading waterfall.

I shook my head to extinguish the coagulated cobwebs. With a giant yawn I stretched out my lethargic limbs as he made his way around our four-wheeled docked rocket ship. Opening the passenger door, he extended his brawny arm to aid my exit from the vehicle. Disheveled and in bear feet, I obliged and swooned into his awaiting arms. Our lips meshed as if created from the same fiber, merging in flawless unrestraint. Immediately, as always, my legs had given up supporting my weight above gravity leaving me staggering, akin to a gawky circus geek.

Awkwardly, he pulled away from me, tensing his aloof stance. His eyebrows lifted and a controlled wrinkle of seriousness spanned his expression.

I clutched his arm, trying to control and subdue it tightly. Please Mitchell, I have to do this.

Sam, you don’t have to. It’s over. The new owners will be moving in on Monday. Your old house is theirs now. Let it all go, please. His hands violently lifted, palms facing upward.

I know your are worried, but I have to do this. I need to do this. This is the last step in my healing process. The team of psychoanalysts collectively agreed that this will release my afflicted spirit permanently. I tried with all of my might to make him understand, but I knew that it would never fully sink in.

Quacks... They are all fake. Just steal you money and give wacky advice. Your headaches are gone and the bruises have all dried up. You are perfect now and beautiful once again. You just won’t allow yourself to be so. His powerful embrace locked my waist from behind.

What is one night? Then I can wash this awful place from my memory for good. One night is all I ask for. Please Mitchell, my love. See it in you heart to understand...

I leaned my weight backward and he swept me off my feet. With complete trust I relaxed each muscle group until I was like warm melted butter in his arms. Steadily, he carried me up the long newly paved driveway until we approached the front door.

Good thing it was dark so the neighbors could not witness another potential lifeless body hauled across the former Larson property. I chuckled within. They have seen quite enough this past year. In fact, the Henderson’s on the left have since moved far away.

Mitchell sighed begrudgingly as he knew it was time for him to leave for the night. I stroked his statuesque torso and said, Okay sweetheart, lower me so I can begin my nighttime sentence.

Slowly, without a scratch, he straightened my body and secured me upright. Our arms slipped apart as he turned and walked away, defeated. My grasp stumbled from his fingers. I mournfully watched as he trudged around his vehicle and took one last look in my direction. I will be here at eight o’clock sharp, and not one second longer! He dictated tomorrow’s itinerary.

Mitchell sounded my marching orders. I saluted and stepped back under the front awning.

The car door slammed and the engine fired up. Keep your phone on and call me for any reason. I can will be here in no time flat. His index finger pointed directly at my face.

I smiled indifferently and fluttered my fingers at him.

He pursed his lips and shook his head repeatedly. Stubborn as always...

You’d better get used to it, Mitchell Davis! I’m not anything like your former brainless tarts that you were previously accustomed to! My arms flailed about feverishly.

His head tilted to the side as he mouthed those unmatched words --I love you.

A warm tidal wave gobbled me, and I swished my lips in a reciprocal manner.

The shifter thrusted forward into first gear and Mitchell popped the clutch. In only a few seconds, the taillights blurred out of focus.

I breathed a long arduous sigh of tension.

I shifted my gaze at the lifeless structure behind me. Immediately, my pulse began to swelter and my breath became laborious. Tonight will be an extremely difficult task to undertake. I scored well in my calm acting job for Mitchell’s sake, but in reality, I was literally coming apart at the seams. Doubt plagued me and pulverized with attuned apprehension.

Nevertheless, the nightmares have to cease! I can’t go on with sleep deprivation and cold sweats if I was to begin a new chapter in my life’s journey with Mitchell, my everlasting love. I extended my left arm revealing the mesmerizing gleam and sparkle of my newly acquired three-caret diamond symbol. Flapping the tips of my fingers, I squinted in response to the moonlights reflective banter. Still emitting sparks -- I was indubitably fine.

I would do anything I could for Mitchell’s sake. I would gladly do this for us. And I would definitely do this for my future unborn kids and family. I wanted it all, including the proverbial white picket fence housing an array of barking dogs, birthday parties, and science projects.

Standing this close rekindled treacherous memories that replayed in my conscience like a never-ending horror movie. Dizziness and nausea gripped my senses as I floated, seemingly out of body, toward the front door.

Mitchell gave me the key for this one time use only. His father’s construction company has been remodeling our former stately abode into a majestic palace, but to me it is just a gruesome morgue, packed with treachery and eternal heartache. I hoped that the new owners fare better than the broken and ruptured Larson family ever did.

With a strong snap, the door lock spun to the open position, and the door arched inward. The aroma of newly shaped wood and paint overwhelmed my nostrils. The transgressed mars and cracked hopes and dreams were all but laid to rest amongst the repairs and upgrades. However, never will I ever see this prison as anything more than a bad nightmare fortified by our own personal monsters.

I entered and shoved the door closed. Leaning back, I absorbed the immense aura of uncertainly. I knew Mitchell was absolutely right about spending the night alone here. This could backfire and send me reeling into darkness and despair once again.

After the events of last year unfolded, I collapsed under the severe mental and physical stress. I had managed to make it so far without wavering, however, I clung to Mitchell as if he was the air swirling inside my lungs. The night terrors and convulsions persisted until enrolling in an intense psychotherapy program in Seattle. A lethal concoction of aggressive drugs and therapeutic communication contorted my subconscious into an agglomerated messy goo, until I could confront my deplorable mental fiends head on.

Agony became my best friend and a close silent partner during this chapter of my life, and if dying would have ultimately ended it, I would have certainly embraced it with a smile across my aggrieving face. Nevertheless, I had a silver bullet, a magical pill. There was one ace left in the hole -- Mitchell Davis. Mitchell took a leave of absence from his father’s business to stay by my side through all of it. He witnessed, first hand, the devil and his minions, tugging their strings around my suffering, ailing heart.

I thanked God each and every day for my soul mate Mitchell, who brought a rock-like stability that I so thirsted for. I know that no other boyfriend would have stuck it out during my aggressive tirades and emotional overflowing. I gave a new meaning to the word meltdown.

I felt such remorse for what I subjected him through. But I needed to know if he was real. And that he was who I imagined he would be. I needed a counterbalance, an opposing weight to offset my deranged sense of reality. And as usual, Mitchell validated and assumed that dominant role every time to date.

So I perfectly understood his vigorous concern for my well being and usually agree with his sensible advice, but not this time. He has finished his commission in my life, and now I needed to fulfill my end of the bargain as well. Happiness would be at my reach, at last.

I moved to the center of the living room where the sectional sofa and coffee table once was. Nothing stood in the way now but emptiness. The only thing left behind was the squeaks and rattles of the floorboards, which drilled penetrating holes into my subconscious. I glanced obliquely and waited for my eyesight to adjust to the low entering moonlight. The black-a-vised darkness will have to do for tonight because a new electrical panel will not be installed until Sunday. No electric power to the house, nothing. Not even a nightlight.

I am empty-handed as well. I would not even compromise with a flashlight or candle. Equipped with only my handbag and holding one-week salary of shoes in my hand, I was determined to see this incursion to fruition. Tonight will be an adventure story on par with the settlers of ancient days -- only I have indoor plumbing. Squatting indoors was my only deal breaker.

The sheet rock was repaired and showed no signs of my timely demise. The holes were patched and my blood bleached away. The new landlords will never have to know what became of me here -- the day my sister ended my life where I am standing now. And of course, no decomposed body buried deep in the backyard either. I wish it were the Larson family migrating here now. We missed it by only one tiny year.

Why couldn’t it be our family reading the history of Pamela Blakely and her killers now etched into Ekkland County folklore? What did the Larson family commit to have the forces of evil trounce us to pieces? Of course I am to blame for every outcome. I could have just done as Chrissy said and left Pamela below the ground. It was as good a resting-place as any. Green pastures and a musical babbling brook were her borders. Not a horrible place to end up, if you ask me! There are much worse places -- like amongst the living, which only act alive, but are dead as stone inside.

And they don’t even know it.

My downward spiral was built on this premise. My eroding guilt slowly wasted me away. I destroyed my loving Larson family unit -- forever. Our green grasslands have all turned brown. Our five souls have darkened and burned out with never a chance or opportunity to heal. Only little sister Ashley now has a bright future ahead if we can keep her career focused and on a straightened course.

Ashley took it especially hard. Her delicate wings were clipped when Dad left us for good soon after the winter season. His gambling and infidelity eventually emptied him of whatever decency he had. He left soon after he was notified that Chrissy and Bradley were promptly expelled from San Diego State University.

Chrissy had been Dad’s pet project from when she was a clumsy young age. He witnessed her excel and blossom into an amazing athlete, all under his unbounded guidance and regime. Perfection Walking is a term that he frequently used whenever he would brag about her to almost anyone who seemed the slightest bit interested. Instilling in her all the ideals and work ethics that he could never achieve in his own lifetime. A father’s dream is to shower his offspring with all the opportunities and gifts that he never had access to.

And Chrissy got enough for a thousand lifetimes.

But it all came crashing down hard when Chrissy and Bradley attempted to orchestrate a devious plot to derail the opposing team’s center so she would become injured hours before the championship game. They would have succeeded had it not been for another one of Bradley’s accessories inadvertently left behind at the scene of the crime. This time it wasn’t a cheap bracelet baring his initials. The object found by the opposing team was his beloved and cherished high school championship football ring. Something that he could not live without.

Upon returning to retrieve it, rival campus police nabbed Bradley standing in the other teams dorm room with his prized possession in hand and his pants down around his ankles. Apparently, there was some advanced tutoring going on with the captain of the other teams cheerleading squad. With the truth and Bradley exposed, the college terminated their four-year scholarships and kicked them out for good.

Dad lost his mind and destroyed his office and all of Chrissy’s illustrious trophies as if to eradicate her from his memory. The very next day he boarded the first flight to San Diego to confront them both. A heated battle ensued between Bradley and Dad, however, Bradley was a much better match than I was. When Dad knocked my lights out it was akin to a steamroller squashing a carton of eggs.

However, In thier scuffle, Bradley beat Dad into submission, and to an insalubrious pulp. In all honesty, Bradley was still peaking physically, but Dad’s once hard physique has recently hosted too many beers and cupcakes. It took Chrissy and the neighborhood bikers to restrain Bradley’s bad wolf.

The end result was not a pretty sight. Mom dropped everything and cancelled Ashley’s talk show appearances to fly out to be with Dad in the emergency ward. He was in critical condition for seven days following.

During this time I was already out of my mind in a comfy padded cell under twenty-four hour suicide watch, not knowing what was occurring anywhere but in my imploded tiny, medicated world. Mom and Mitchell kept it all from me. They fabricated little lies to keep me quiet and rested.

I nodded and smiled alot during those days.

I was convinced that the loved ones in my life were better off when I was locked up, and I could not hurt them again. The more they told me the awesome good fortune my family was receiving, the longer I wanted to stay inside -- so I could not damage them further.

This was my redemption, my generous gift to them all. The more I stayed away from my family, the better off they became. And I was fine with that arrangement. I was able to give back to my family for all the hell I dragged them through. I was truly happy and at peace -- for once.

My stroll throughout the main floor of my former abode continued. The kitchen hasn’t changed much and neither had the other rooms. Except for the addition of new pricey fixtures and ornate wall coverings, the structure remained in tact. Mitchell and his father did very exquisite work. Every line was straight and every door closed with a soft click. I hoped my future with Mitchell would be as equally aligned. I was counting on the fact that he would keep me straight and even as well.

Traveling up the stairs to the balcony overlooking the foyer only continued to dredge more low-lying memories. But the most difficult room to enter was Chrissy’s old bedroom. I still feel her presence as if she never left. I closed my eyes and remembered her perched at her vanity arranging her wardrobe for the many upcoming high school dances.

I sat in the far corner on the floor and cried bitterly. My guttural sounds echoed throughout the now empty hallowed walls. When she left she tore pieces from my bones with her -- figuratively and physically.

I missed her the most. My soul ached for her closeness. To long to brush her hair and listen to her endless jabber about boys and beauty creams. I never really listened. I just enjoyed idolizing my arresting older sister who had God’s favor fused from all directions. I had always fantasized being her when I grew up, as long as I could remember.

Never giving up on her was my only claim to fame here. I saw the writing on the wall and knew that we would never be together again, but wanted to give it my all -- at any cost. Even my life -- which she took from me. Sure I miraculously survived and cheated fate, but I was clinically dead for three and a half minutes. No pulse and no heart beat -- all from her capable and destructive fists. I suppose that I can overhaul everything else, but this scar will continue to be a soul bleeder.

And I will have to live with that.

The basement holds it’s own weirdness, with Bradley accosting me and almost taking me as his own. He wanted to devour me that night with Chrissy, Mom, Dad, and Ashley directly upstairs -- and nearly did. I’d like to say that I remember every aspect of that night, but my intense strain and self-indulgence of alcohol forced me to blackout a few quick times, never being able to fill in all of the missing sections.

Our loveable dog Barney’s escape was especially hard on the entire family. Keeping this a secret from Ashley was even tougher. I promised myself that I would reveal the entire true facts to her when she became a little older. I don’t care that mom adamantly disagreed. My grounding days are over, so what does she have to hold over my head now?

The attic is of no interest to me now. I spent so much time escaping up there after Armando disappeared. I guess I may never know what happened to him. Did he survive the three hundred foot bridge jump?

I say yes. Someone has to keep the vigil alive, right?

Many nights I stayed late on the police computer trying to track Armando’s whereabouts. How can you totally be erased from the grid? Somehow, someway, one would surface. Either by credit card or check, even national law enforcement should have smoked his hideout. He was still a wanted fugitive, and will remain that way until he could clear his own name.

Working the last month for Captain Annie Oakley has afforded me many advantages and connections, although I try hard not to abuse my position as Assistant for Special Projects. It’s really only a long convoluted title. My pay is slightly more than minimum wage and my duties include filing and mostly long-winded research. Our relationship has blossomed since that infamous day when Oakley sauntered into my holding cell at the same Ekkland County Sheriff’s Office that I am currently employed. She laughed in my face that day like I was nothing short of dirt under a stray dog’s paw.

Well, it’s eleven-thirty and I need to settle in for the night. Mitchell has been texting me for the last hour. I think I’m going to turn off my phone. He will be mad tomorrow, but I have every intention of flying solo tonight.

Dragging some old drop cloths, I assembled a rather cozy nesting place inside my old bedroom. This eight hundred-dollar gown will be useless tomorrow, but, hey, how many weddings do I get to attend each year? The next wedding will be mine and cost much more, and I will be the main attraction.

Forming a comfy pillow out of my handbag, I rested my stammering head on the imported leather. This is like a camping excursion, I guess, but without the bugs, animals, and weather.

I closed my eyes and let sleep snatch me.

Chapter 2 - Deja Vu

My eyelids sprang open from the rustling sound of the front door lock mechanism! Still reeling from a succession of bizarre disturbing nightmares, I feebly stumbled to stand vertically. Damnit Mitchell. I told you I needed to be alone tonight! I scowled, grinding my pearly whites.

I staggered to the doorway. Storming out of the bedroom, I plodded down the hallway furiously stomping my feet. The echoing of my dudgeon was deafening to my own eardrums. My cranium was at the massive boiling point, and Mitchell was going to get it bad this time -- both barrels blazing.

Why wouldn’t he listen to me, just this once? I needed to be here tonight for the sake of healing and natural balance. Didn’t my well being mean anything to his selfish ways? How were we going to begin our glorious future life together if I still had one foot forever stuck in this misaligned mental bear trap? I was armed to the teeth and ready to unleash my wrath upon him.

There was only one other time when I physically assaulted Mitchell. He tried to remove me from the institution the first week I checked in. Mitchell thinks that all doctors are phony and that he was going