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“Special,” she explains while continuing to smile at me like a possessed maniac.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was possessed.
Or the pink crazy-haired woman in disguise, like she body-snatched Beth or something.
I mentally shake my head at that thought. Why would you think that, Haven? That kind of shit doesn’t exist.
Right?
I don’t know… considering what I can do…
I eyeball Beth over. “Is everything okay?”
She gives a cheerful nod. "This is going to be good for you. This place… I think you'll fit in well there." She tugs at the sleeves of her button-down shirt. "They'll be picking you up in about an hour. While you wait, maybe you should go clean up a bit."
Since when does she tell me to clean up?
"You're not taking me there?" In the ten odd years I've known her, she's always driven me to the group home and checked me in.
She shakes her head. “Like I said, this is a special group home.” She snaps her fingers, signaling for me to go to the bathroom. “Now go clean up. I don’t want them showing up and seeing you like this. They might take back your spot if they do.”
Swallowing hard, I collect my bag, get up and head into the bathroom, creeped out at how I can feel her watch me the entire way, only looking away when I push into the bathroom.
“She’s acting so weird,” I mutter to myself as I make my way over to the mirror/sink area.
I cringe the instant I catch sight of my reflection, realizing why Beth told me to clean up.
My long, dark hair is a tangled mess, and my nearly black eyes are bloodshot, which makes them look even creepier. I also have dirt all over my cheeks, and a couple of droplets of bloodstain the front of my grey T-shirt.
Where the hell did the blood come from?
I check my arms and face over. Then my legs. Since I’m wearing shorts, I get a good look at how badly my knees are scraped up, old blood crusted on my flesh. Maybe that’s where the blood came from, but how did it get on my shirt? It doesn’t make sense.
I lift up my shirt to check my stomach, and my heart slams to a stop. Moving across my flesh are what appear to be blood veins, prominent and protruding like they're about to pop out of my skin.
Just like Tim’s were.
But when I blink, my skin returns to normal.
“What the actual hell?” I mutter as I run my fingers across my now smooth flesh.
Well, this is definitely new. But I’m not sure what to make of it, other than maybe I’m losing my mind.
Maybe I'm going crazy. Perhaps that's why I'm going to this special group home. Maybe special means for the insane. Or perhaps they're sending me to a mental institution. Or maybe I am going to that group home for dangerous kids.
I swallow hard then start to scrub the dirt off my face. Then I change my shirt and comb my fingers through my hair. My shoelaces are untied, but I'm too exhausted to bend down and tie them.
I just want to leave, escape all of this.
As I exit the bathroom, I debate whether I should make a run for it. I've run away before, but I've always gotten caught a day or two later. Still, I'd rather try then just let them take me to this "special" group home—
I slap to the stop as shock unexpectedly whips through me. “What the hell is that?” I whisper as I stare at the… well, I’m not sure what the swirling circle of darkness in front of me is.
I start to step back into the bathroom, unsure what else to do when Beth appears beside me.
"Your ride has arrived, Haven." She gives me that manic smile again, and a chill slithers down my spine.
I trip backward, trying to get away from her, but she snatches hold of my arm, her smile broadening. Then, as if a veil has been lifted from her, she shifts from looking like a middle-aged, grey-haired woman to a twenty-something-year-old gothic chick with cotton candy pink hair.
