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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years

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Chapter Forty-Nine:

The One Where Sunny is Challenged to a Sword Fight

Violet woke up from her place on the floor a few hours later. She looked around confused. Did I fall asleep? She asked herself as she sat up, leaning back towards the front door. She looked around the room and saw documents all over the floor and the table as she began to frown. She remembered what had taken place before she had fallen asleep. She stood up shakily. Did that really happen? Did I really say that I hated him? She asked herself as she walked around the room, her mind was playing it over and over on an endless loop. Her words like venom, her tone like acid, she intended to hurt her father and she had got what she wanted but as she walked quietly around her cold, empty home she understood the saying ‘be careful what you wish for’. All she could think about was how she made her father cry. She wracked her brain remembering exactly what she said. ‘ She wanted me’ Violet remembers saying calmly but then she lost all control of her words. ‘ It’s you that she didn’t want!’ Violet wiped a few tears from her eyes as she remembered how hard her words had hit him.

“What have I done,” she whispered to herself. She started slowly putting these documents away, she kept a few in a neat pile on the table, hoping to write down a few more notes into her commonplace book before her father had the chance to either destroy them or hide them from her again.

The more Violet thought about everything, the more conflicted she became. On the one hand, she was sorry that she had reacted in such a way that made her father cry. She was sorry that she had screamed to him three times that she hated him when deep down she didn’t hate him, she was simply angry with him. She honestly felt guilty because she wasn’t heartless but a part of Violet also felt like her reaction minus a few bits of irrational rage was justified. So on the other hand, she was angry and a small part of her didn’t regret the interrogation. She was also annoyed that she had asked her father to give up VFD and instead he left her to go do something for VFD. She was sick of the lies and secrets, her father has been lying to her for who knows how long about so much. She just wanted answers. She wanted to know where she came from. She wanted to meet her mother, simple as that. If her father was telling the truth that he truly did not know where her mother was, then she knewwhat did.

She thought about her meeting with Jacquelyn. Remembering that the woman said that if she needed anything to call. She took Jacquelyn’s card from her jacket pocket staring at it. Is it worth it? She asked herself as she stared at the card. Would it be worth joining this stupid cult to find her mother?

Violet stared at the card and then looked at the phone. Would Jacquelyn help her find her mother or make her ‘volunteer’ in exchange for knowledge on her mother? She sighed. She was honestly debating joining a cult. Jacquelyn had said that she was a year late for apprenticeship...whatever that meant. If she were to join, would Jacquelyn be her mentor since she was the one who successfully recruited her? She could deal with that. Jacquelyn seemed like a nice woman.

She looked towards her backpack next to the door. What if I just simply ran away? She thought. She didn’t necessarily need a cult to find her mother. She could do it herself, couldn’t she? She sighed as she sat down to jot down the notes. No matter what she decides, she at least wanted to speak to her father. To tell him that she didn’t hate him, although she was heavily disappointed and hurt by him. So she decided that she’d wait until she sees her father again before choosing her destiny.

But the one question on her mind was: Is joining VFD worth meeting my mother? And as Violet sat in silence jotting down her notes from her father’s documents, she couldn’t decisively say ‘yes’...but she couldn’t entirely say ‘no’ either.

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Lemony felt like his sister as he drove like an unhinged madman to Paltryville. Violet’s words were replaying in his head in an endless loop. He wiped his tears from his face every so often. All Lemony could think about was the seriousness in his daughter’s voice as she screamed the words I hate you! At him, as he left, once again, to save the Baudelaire children. He sighed. Was lying from her worth it? He asked himself. Almost immediately, he answered himself Yes, of course, it was. You were only doing this to protect her.

But was that the whole truth? Lemony was lying to her about VFD’s existence and what is job truly pertained to protect her. The less she knew about his past and her mother’s past and VFD as a whole...was protecting her. But then there were the lies about who the Baudelaires were. Why he had rejoined VFD after so many years and if he knew her mother’s location. Which all of these lies felt like he was protecting himself in a way. Allowing Violet to know about the death of her mother and the fact that she has two half-siblings could enrage Violet. It could make her hate him... more. Seeing that she already does hate him. She’d blame him for her lack of relationship with her mother and she’d blame him for screwing up in life, so badly, that he couldn’t adopt the two Baudelaires.

He shook his head as he continued to speed towards Paltryville. He was thinking about Violet’s entire interrogation. Lemony knew she was right in a few of her points, but the one that he couldn’t help but focus on was her point about Beatrice. Beatrice did want Violet...Beatrice wanted to raise her firstborn but because of Lemony’s situation was unable to. In a way, some people who hate Beatrice could say that she died as a deadbeat mother, although that was not the case at all. He frowned. He knew fully well that Beatrice wanted Violet. He also knew that Beatrice was willing to make arrangements so that he could also see their daughter and be a part of her life. Lemony also knew that Beatrice did not want him. Beatrice had returned the engagement ring and wrote a two hundred page note detailing why she couldn’t and wouldn’t marry him. He also knew that he could never fault Beatrice on that decision. He had fucked up. He had convinced her to steal from their old friend and he convinced her and two others to help him carry out a double homicide and he hated himself for it. He’s hated himself every day since. He couldn’t remember the reasoning VFD gave to him for the double homicide...and he feared that the only reason he couldn’t remember the reasoning is that the reasoning was insignificant. As Lemony sat here and drove, he felt as though VFD had chosen him for a reason. This double homicide was not the first time that Lemony had murdered, although the first time he did was when he was around Klaus’ age. Maybe they chose him because they knew his moral compass was off. He should have just did it himself. But selflessly, he had involved not only Beatrice but Bertrand and his older sister, Kit. He began crying harder. That night had ruined Kit’s life, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kit hated him like his daughter. I wouldn’t blame her...Hell, I don’t even blame Violet.

Lemony knew deep down that Violet most likely said these cruel things out of anger, but even if he believed that. He also wholeheartedly believed that she had every right to hate him. Why should he be surprised if Violet, or Kit, or even Beatrice hated him if he hated himself?

He knew Violet deserved better. He didn’t regret his daughter at all. He loved her more than anything on this planet...but he did regret ever meeting up with Beatrice that Thursday so long ago. If he had just pretended like he never received the letter from the carrier crows than he would’ve never been able to ruin Violet’s life. She would have been raised by her mother and Bertrand. She would’ve grown up being a big sister to a younger brother and then eventually been gifted a baby sister. Lemony had no doubt in his mind that she would’ve been the perfect older sister. Lemony also had no doubt in his mind that if this were to happen, she’d have a far better life with Beatrice than she has had with him. But he was selfless back then, he desperately wanted to meet his baby girl and he desperately wanted to see Beatrice again. Even as he was reading Beatrice’s two-hundred-page letter to him, he had always hoped that they would have gotten back together eventually.

As he entered the desolate town of Paltryville, he knew he had to push away all of his self-deprecating and self-loathing thoughts to the side. He had to stop sulking in his own self-pity and figure out a disguise. He didn’t know what Olaf had planned this time, he didn’t even know what disguise Olaf was wearing this time. All he knew was that the Baudelaire orphans were living at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill. Which confused him. Why would Poe send two small children to a lumbermill? He asked himself. Then he remembered just how incompetent Poe was and it all made sense.

The last time Lemony was in Paltryville, he, the Baudelaire parents and a few other volunteers were here helping the townsfolk with the aftermath of a fire. He remembered how the only two buildings to survive the fires were the lumber mill and a VFD secret headquarters, although he couldn’t imagine that the building was being used since the schism. He remembered that the owners of the lumber mill vaguely, he thought about whether or not he should disturb them and explain why he’d be trespassing onto their property. But he decided against it remembering that the one who was always smoking cigars with a cloud of smoke masking his face was rude and obnoxious and the other one was the definition of a pushover. When he arrived at the gates of Lucky Smells, he could hear a faint noise coming from inside. It sounded like one of the lumbermill machines.Why was a lumber mill operating its machinery at nearly one in the morning? He asked himself confused. But his heart sank when he thought about one possibility. Olaf. He listened carefully to the noise, trying to determine what it was. It sounded like a giant chainsaw. He gulped. He wouldn’t use a chainsaw to kill those kids...they’re his money bags. He thought darkly. Then his face fell when he realized that technically Olaf did not need both Baudelaire orphans alive to get their fortune. He hurriedly concocted a disguise in two minutes. He hoped that this disguise would suffice. He didn’t have time to make an elaborate disguise this time. So he settled for the first thing that came to mind. As he exited his taxi, he grabbed a box of verdant flammable devices.

_________________________________________________________

Before I inform you of the Baudelaire orphans’ side of things let me first explain to you what the expression ‘seeing in black and white’ means. When someone says that you are ‘seeing in black and white’ it simply means that a person looks at the world in a manner that is oversimplified and often incorrect.

For example, like many newspapers, the Daily Punctilio is printed in black and white, and its outlook at the world is oversimplified and entirely incorrect. The death of noted scientist Montgomery Montgomery? Not due to snake allergies. The destruction of Josephine Anwhistle’s home? Not the work of a cabal of realtors. The exact cause of the Baudelaire and Quagmire fires? Although my associate and I haven’t figured out who had done it...I can tell you that they were not accidents. And at the time that certain articles were written...Lemony Snicket was not dead.

Now I am sorry to inform you that there was not a terrible accident at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill during the Baudelaires' dismal time there.

There were two.

It is my duty to report these events correctly, the way that they actually happened. But if you prefer to look at the world in black and white then you should avert your eyes and pick up a copy of the Daily Punctilio instead. Because I know the truth behind the accidents at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill and I can assure you that it’s better if you didn’t.

I beg of you...STOP reading this sad tale now. Imagine this story has a happy ending. You can pretend that Lemony Snicket brutally murders Olaf and adopts the two plucky Baudelaire orphans. Or, if you want to be more realistic, you can imagine that Lemony simply rescues the children from another one of Olaf’s villainous schemes and decides to indict them and his daughter into VFD where the three children have marvelous adventures solving the mysteries that surround them. Or…if you want to be even more realistic, you can pretend that the story continues in the same pattern as it has since you read the very first word in this story. Although I must tell you...that that’s not how the story goes.

But...if you choose to read on, let me warn you...the misery doesnot end here. In fact, I visited Paltryville before I met my associate, many years after the Baudelaires’ story took place here.

It was long after the Lucky Smells Lumbermill had closed its doors and Dr. Orwell’s office had fallen into disrepair. Of course, the building wasn’t originally an optometrist’s office at all, but the headquarters to a troublesome organization.

That is where I learned what actually happened to Klaus Baudelaire and Lemony Snicket. Poor, poor Klaus Baudelaire...poor, poor Lemony Snicket.

It was enough to make my associate and me want to abandon civilization and live by a pond. But...if you choose to look this misery in the eye...don’t say I didn’t warn you...because it’s all downhill from here.

Sunny Baudelaire woke to a loud, strange hmmm noise, she turned to where she thought her brother was. Her eyes got wide as she realized he was not beside her. She sat up immediately. Listening to the hmmm of the lumber mill’s deadliest machine in the late hours of the evening. Her heart sank as she hurried out of the dormitory towards the sound of the mill’s chainsaw. Sunny crawled as fast as she could across the courtyard. She finally reached the doors of the lumbermill and pushed it slightly open just a crack to scope out the scene. She could hear the voice of the person she hated the most inside boasting about his premature triumph over the Baudelaires.

“You’ve been fortunate so far, you little twerp!” Olaf hissed. “But not anymore!”

“Yeah, you tell him, boss!” Foreman Flacutono replied taking off his gas mask, revealing himself to be the hook-handed man, who like Olaf had his back to Sunny, who glanced around trying to see what the two villainous men were talking about.

“One more accident and you’ll be mine! ” Olaf bragged still in his Shirley disguise. “And this will be the worst accident the lumber mill has ever seen.”

Sunny’s eyes widened entirely when she saw that she was correct. The rusty sawing machine was whirring away, making that dreadful humming sound that had woke her up, and there was a log on the machine’s conveyor belt, all ready to be pushed into the saw. The log seemed to be covered in layers and layers of string, the string that had been inside the string machine before Klaus accidentally smashed it. Sunny took another look to make sure that she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. It looked like the string was wrapped around something else, tying a large bundle to the log. With a heap of dread washing over the younger Baudelaire orphan, she realized that the bundle was Charles. He was tied to the long with so much string that it looked a bit like a cocoon. She looked at Charles, who was whistling and smiling as he was eagerly awaiting his demise. Sunny realized that he, like her brother, was still hypnotized. She was utterly alone.

“Now, you lucky brat, would you like to send that log into that saw?” Olaf asked cheerfully.

To Sunny’s horror, her brother stood at the controls of the sawing machine. She could see from his vacant expression that he was completely in Olaf’s control. He muttered, “yes, sir,” as he pushed the level forward blissfully unaware that he was sending Charles to his death.

Without thinking, Sunny yelled, “ Klaus! No!”��

Both Olaf and his henchman jumped in surprise as they both turned around to glare at the younger Baudelaire orphan.

“Well, well, well,” Olaf said peering down at Sunny. “If it isn’t...the biting brat. You’re just in time to see the accident!”

“Rem!” Sunny yelled glaring at Olaf, which meant, “It’s not an accident, you vile piece of dog shit! You’re doing this on purpose!”

Olaf looked to Sunny confused and then looked at the Hook-Handed Man shrugging his shoulders. To Sunny’s surprise, the Hook-Handed Man translated for her. Causing both her and Olaf to look at him in disbelief.

“I have a younger sister,” he muttered more to his boss than to Sunny. “She used to talk in a similar way,”

Olaf rolled his eyes but Sunny was happy that she could insult Olaf and someone would tell him what she was saying. Olaf glared back at the infant orphan, “Now, let’s not split hairs,” he said mockingly as he pointed a bony finger at Klaus. “ That’s Klaus’ job.”

“ Klaus!” Sunny shrieked. “ Behave!” to her horror, Klaus didn’t move. He didn’t even acknowledge she had said anything.

Olaf began laughing harshly at her. “Oh, come on. Do you really think I’d make the control word that simple?”

“Fuck off!” Sunny shouted. She knew there had to be a control word. She knew for a fact that there was a word that was used to control Klaus and a word used to free him. Sunny knew that Olaf must have used the word just now to get her brother to move the lever that controlled the log that Charles was blissfully tied to. She also knew it had to be a word that Sir used when they were arguing with him and a word that the fake foreman used when Klaus caused the first accident. But what was the common word?

“Klaus!” she cried again.

“Shout as much as you want!” Olaf bellowed menacingly at Sunny as he took a step closer to her, she bared her teeth at the villain, looking around for some kind of weapon other than her teeth. She stood tall, refusing to show this asshole any fear. “You’re big brother isn’t here right now…and your baby talk will do you no good!” he informed her in the most belittling tone he could muster. “Poor little orphan. Haven’t you learned anythingthis year?...month…? Whatever. Wherever you two go, I will be waiting. Wherever you two hide, I will hunt you down. Why? I’m smarter. I’m pluckier. I’m stronger!” Olaf boasted.

He turned his attention towards Klaus and growled in annoyance when he realized that the log had barely moved. “Put some lower back into it, fucking weakling!” he shouted. Charles continued to whistle happily as Klaus just stared off into space. Sunny realized that Olaf forgot to use the secret word. Olaf turned his attention back to Sunny. “I’m unstoppable! ”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Odi?!” She yelled at Olaf, which meant, “Why do you hate us so much!?” The Hook-handed man translated for Sunny.

Olaf smiled his trademark cruel smile. “Like I told your brother earlier today because it’s fun!” he said laughing.

He turned his attention to Charles. “How are you doing back there, Charles?”

“Oh, just peachy!” Charles replied chuckling.

Olaf began to laugh at his villainy and the Hook-Handed Man joined in. “Wait until Sir finds out that his partner’s been turned into human boards! I bet he won’t even wait until morning to fire…” his eyes got wide as he gasped. Olaf glared at him angrily as the two villains and Sunny watched as Charles’ expression went from one of blissful unawareness to one of utter confusion and fear.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” Charles asked realizing that he was tied to a log that was headed towards a chainsaw. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”

Sunny realized instantly that Charles was unhypnotized. He became unhypnotized the very moment that the Hook-Handed man uttered the word ‘fire’. With a triumphant smile on her face, she turned to her brother. “Fire!” she shouted as loud as she could. “ Klaus! Fire! Fire!” she shrieked. “ Off!” which meant, “Turn off the machine!”

To her surprising horror, she watched as her brother continued to ignore her and stare into space. Olaf began laughing again. “Nice try baby-laire,” he said mockingly. “But did you really think we were stupid enough to use the same word on your bratty brother that we used on the rest of the mill workers?”

Sunny’s eyes went wide with realization. The rest of the mill workers. Meaning not just Charles. ‘Fire’ was the secret word for the mill workers. Sunny thought she could use this to her advantage. But how?

Olaf knelt down to glare at Sunny, who once again, bared her teeth which stopped Olaf from picking her up. “You will never find the word to save your brother! And you certainly won’t find it in time to save Charles!” he said mockingly.

Sunny glared at Olaf. He was ignorantly undermining her due to her age and size. She was not going to stand for that. Sunny knew that when it came to the fight against Olaf, she brought just as much as to the battle as Klaus did. Hell, she brought more of the bronze than her brother, although he brought more of the brains. They were a nearly perfect team, in Sunny’s opinion. Just missing a secret weapon. The third piece to their puzzle.

Sunny was the one who bit Olaf to defend her brother, Sunny was the one who knew they had to get back into the Reptile Room to figure out how to prove to Poe that Olaf killed Monty. Sunny was the one who knew that allowing Ink to bite her would show that Olaf was a liar. Sunny was the one who used her teeth as a lockpick to open his suitcase, and she later used her teeth to free Ink from captivity.

Sunny was the one who had the idea of eating peppermints to buy them time to decode Josephine’s note. She was the one who had the idea of using the anchor to save her brother from Hurricane Herman. Sunny was the one who had the brilliant idea of starting a fire to signal for help. She was the one who had an easier time working at a lumber mill. She was the one who figured out Olaf’s terrible scheme without the help of her older brother.

Sunny knew that she was a pivotal part of the Baudelaire duo, but if Olaf wanted to dismiss her as a useless baby, that was okay with her. It made ruining his plans all the better for Sunny. Sunny knew that this time, she had to save the day, all on her own because Klaus was unable to help her this time. She remembered every single time Klaus saved her, even that day when she was only six weeks ago and she was choking on her rattle, the day they became thick as thieves. She knew she had to power through despite everything in her way, every obstacle that she faced, every set back that could befall her. She had to do this for Klaus and she was going to do this for Klaus.

“Corrogo!” she shouted at Olaf angrily but confidently, which meant, “Challenge accepted! Bastard!” The Hook-Handed man translated for her as Olaf rolled his eyes in response.

“Help me! Help me!” Charles screamed as the log was slowly inching towards the saw. He looked at the older Baudelaire orphan in fear and confusion as Klaus just stood there lifelessly.

Olaf turned his attention towards Charles, giving Sunny an opportunity to sneak away from the villain and head towards the foreman’s booth where the PA system was located. “Sorry, Charlie! No one’s coming to help you now.”

“ Help me!” Charles shouted as loud as he could.

Olaf turned back to where Sunny had been standing. “Wait...where’d the baby go?”

Just as he asked his henchman that, he heard Sunny’s voice over the PA system screaming the word, “ Fire!” as many times as she could. Hoping to break the mill worker’s hypnotic trance and get them to help her save her brother and Charles.

Olaf walked to the booth and Sunny bared her teeth at him again. “What have you done!?” He shouted in her face angrily. He turned to his henchman. “Shut the door!”

The Hook-Handed man hurriedly went to barricade the door before the approaching angry mob of unhypnotized mill workers could get inside. Charles continued to cry for help while this was happening. Olaf watched as his henchman was successful in barricading the door which allowed Sunny to save Charles in a more hands-on way. She had successfully climbed on top of the log that Charles was tied to and she began to hurriedly bite through the string that held him captive. “Thank you! Thank you!” Charles cried when he noticed Sunny trying to help him.

Olaf notices this and growls. But then he smiles thinking that maybe if he times this right, Charles and Sunny will be cut up by the log leaving him the hypnotized Baudelaire to get the fortune. “Lucky! Would you like to cut the log faster?” Olaf asked.

Klaus’ eyes went wide as he muttered. “Yes, sir.”

Sunny’s eyes went wide but with pure happiness as she realized that Olaf foolishly taught her the control word. She stopped biting the string holding Charles and looked at her brother. “Lucky! ” she shouted. “Back!” which was Sunny’s way of saying, “Would you like to reverse the direction of the log?” To her surprise, Klaus pulled the lever and the log began to move away from the saw while muttering, “yes, sir’.

Olaf growled at this. “Lucky! Push that fucking lever forward!” Klaus complied immediately after muttering, ‘yes, sir’.

“Lucky!” Sunny shrieked. “Pull!”

“Yes, sir,” Klaus murmured, complying with his sister’s request.

“Lucky, push!”

“Yes, sir,” Klaus muttered, obeying Olaf’s demand.

“Lucky, pull!”

“Yes, sir,” Klaus murmured, following Sunny’s direction.

“ Lucky! Towards the fucking saw! ” Olaf bellowed angrily.

“Yes, sir,” Klaus replied, listening to Olaf.

“ Lucky! Away! ” Sunny screamed glaring at Olaf, taking the time in between demands to try to bite through the ropes that tied Charles to the log.

“Yes, sir,” Klaus answered, doing as Sunny dictated.

“ Lucky! ” bellowed a new voice from the second story of the lumber mill. Olaf, the Hook-handed man, Sunny, and even Charles all looked to see Dr. Orwell glaring down at them. “Don’t listen to your sister!” she ordered Klaus.

Sunny went wide when she heard Klaus’ response.

“Yes, sir,” Klaus muttered.

“Lucky, push that log into that fucking saw!” Olaf ordered again looking at Sunny triumphantly.

“Wait, why didn’t you think of that?” the Hook-handed man asked.

“Cause he’s a fucking incompetent moron!” Orwell shouted. “I just stopped by to see if everything was running smoothly, and I’m glad I did. Because it wasn’t! How do you nearly get outsmarted by a fucking infant?”

Olaf growled. “Hey, wait. How did you even get inside? There’s an angry mob at the door?”

“You’re right. I don’t trust you with all my secrets,” she replied as Olaf made a ‘whatever’ face, as she walked over to Sunny and picked her up stopping her from saving Charles with her teeth.

Sunny looked at Klaus for help. “Klaus! Please! Stop!” she cried.”Gice!” which meant, “Please don’t hurt Charles!”

Dr. Orwell looked down at the whimpering infant in her arms. “Oh, you know they say holding a baby can make all these deep, primal parenting instincts kick in,” she said more so to Olaf and his henchman. “But I don’t see it,” she said as she carried Sunny away from Charles.

Sunny looked into the eyes of the evil hypnotist, looking for an ounce of humanity. “ Please, ” she whimpered. “No impetu!” she cried, which meant, “Don’t force my brother to do this terrible thing!” Orwell looked at the infant confused until the Hook-Handed man translated for her.

Orwell looked down at the infant, “It is a terrible thing, I know,” she said in her faux sweet tone. “But it’s a terrible thing that the Baudelaire fortune goes to you two brats, instead of me and Shirley. It’s also a terrible thing that I didn’t get the chance to end either one of your parents.”

And with the mention of wanting to murder her parents, Sunny was done playing nice. Sunny glared at the optometrist, turned her head and bit her hand as hard as she could. Dr. Orwell yelped in pain, dropping Sunny harshly to the ground. Sunny watched as the optometrist lifted her black cane into the air and pressed the red jewel. As she did, Sunny watched as a shiny blade emerged from the opposite end. In a mere second, to Sunny’s surprise, Dr. Orwell’s cane became a sword. “ En Garde! ” Orwell shouted smiling a wicked smile at the younger Baudelaire orphan. Olaf’s face lit up in excitement, fully ready to see Sunny die while his henchman’s face went pale with worry.

Sunny looked from the unhinged expression on the crazy hypnotist’s face to the sword in her hand. She then gave a low chuckle. What has my life come to? Sunny asked herself as she stood up and yelled “ En Garde!” to the hypnotist as she opened her mouth wide prepared for a sword fight.

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years

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About me - the third part (i did it after all)

I think after I was officially rejected by my mother, things kind of changed for me. I was more consciously aware of my social position in my family unit. I allied with my father since he seemed to accept me. I realized even then that he was using me against my mother to feel empowered, and I sensed the cheapness in this, but I was a child and I couldn't really resist acceptance from a parent, especially when I was rejected by the other. Roxanne and my mother seemed to resent me. I felt guilty all the time, like I had betrayed them. They always said rude things to me about how I was my father's child, and not their daughter/sister. I stopped confiding in my mom and older sister about most things after this.

Then in school, Samantha stopped hanging out with me. She found another friend. I wasn't cool anymore. I stopped going to recess with the other kids after feeling even worse having gone out there and trying to be apart of the kids around me, but feeling more and more alienated by them. I would try to go places to be alone, but inevitably, a duty teacher would kick me out of whatever area I had made for myself. It was a no win situation. Better to stay in my desk, and listen to the soft humming of the fluorescent school lights and the soft noises of people who occasionally walked by the door, and the occasional sound of my teacher flipping papers. The kids in my class started to annoy me. I didn't see the point in chasing people around anymore. I wasn't very athletically gifted, so they kicked me out of any team I was to be a part of. I would voluntarily do more homework and occasionally look out the window at my peers as they ran about obliviously, feeling a huge gap between me and my peers growing underneath the surface of who I was every day. I would still be able to hang out with Rachelle after school. But we were so many grades apart that we really didn't see each other at school very often.

More than anything, I think to a degree I was beginning to see things differently than other people around me.

Roxanne's pregnancy at age twelve became news that swept the town that nobody could stop talking about. I got kicked out of every club I was a part of by gossipy soccer moms who openly discussed how I was trash. Teachers stopped being nice to me. Every little mistake I made was exaggerated. Any sense of inclusiveness that I had received prior was swept away. The teachers stopped helping me with homework when I needed it. Nobody wanted to sit by me at lunch. After P.E, the coach would give everyone high fives as they filed back into class. But when I came through the door they would lift their hands out of the way so I did not accidentally get blessed by their hi-five. I am sure it was hard for Roxanne as well. A group of boys who lived up the street as well as their parents threw rocks at her and called her a slut and a whore. I remember she ran in the house crying.

After the fight that happened, my mother kicked my father out of the house. There was no compromise to be had about keeping the baby. He lived behind a friend's house in Lewiston, forty miles away in the camper. My mom didn't want him to see any of us anymore. He was still paying the bills however. Roxanne invited this 20 year old guy to come live in the house with us for about six months, named Joe. Joe was a Spokane creep who did harder drugs than anyone in town did. He started sleeping with all the preteens that he could in town. My father was very worried about Joe being around me and my siblings, and he probably had good reason. My mom blindly defended Joe's place in the house. My father continued to call me in secret sometimes. He partially had every right to be very concerned. But he was also becoming unhinged and paranoid.

My mom started doing home health with elderly people. And then she was gone. She just moved out. It was easiest to find her at her place of work. Because she didn't stay at the house anymore. At first, she met this strange man in town who was super religious and believed in all kinds of strange right wing religious conspiracies about the end of the world. My mother became obsessed with biblical Armageddon. After that, she started doing drugs and dating, and staying with her boyfriend. There was no longer any adults in the house at all. Roxanne and Joe essentially ran the house. There were enormous house parties. My mother would stop in maybe once every five or six days with a little bit of groceries. They were never enough. By the third day, we had eaten everything in the house usually. Roxanne would try to call my mother, but she was nowhere to be found. Roxanne and I started eating condiments out of hunger.

I spent almost all of my time outside at this point. The house became so messy that it was hard to live in. There were mice everywhere. Allison and David were toddlers by then, and they would walk around the house scribbling on the walls, ripping off the old wall paper, breaking everything they could. Everything under the sun that you could imagine a toddler wanting to do, they did. Rachelle and I just lived outside, and I would come home when it got dark.

One Thanksgiving Rachelle's mother took us to a church function that was happening in the nearby town of Lapwai, which is part of the Nez Perce Native American Reservation. I remember the Nez Perce chief was there. I had/have never seen anyone like him really. He was very stoic and proud the way you typically would only see in a statue or a painting. He had a strange purity about him that just came off him in a strong way that made him hard to ignore. He wore his traditional headdress. Naturally, this made my immature little white girl self very uncomfortable. I started to laugh at him, and Rachelle and I started trying to pick on him. We started throwing things at him, and laughing at him. He didn't move. But his eyes turned our way for one moment and they were like fire. The look he gave us was one of the most honest looks I have ever received. He seemed then to be peering into our little heads. He wasn't attempting to shame us, or even frighten us. He just seemed to recognize the situation for what it was. He just saw right through our heads somehow.

Looking back … it was so fucking cringeworthy. It's probably one of the most embarrassing things I had ever done. I know I was eight and all. I didn't really know better. Never once had anyone sat me down and explained a thing about being respectful to Native American culture. But just the idea that I essentially disrespected him like this is horrible to me now to think about. How many people can say they have treated a chief in this way? I know he probably did not care that little children were snickering, I am sure as an adult he was above that. I think it bothers me because it just seems to indicate the lack of respect that's been given to Native American's culture as a whole, and even as a young child, my natural reaction to the way he was was to attack him in some way. It just represented something ugly. It was disrespectful to the fact that we had been cordially invited to the Nez Perce Thanksgiving of all ironic things, but also disrespectful on a historic level. I could not have known at that age, as I said. But I wish someone would have walked over and slapped me right in the face. I deserved it. If there was ever a time that it was needed, it would have been this time.

My mother finally decided to let us meet Huleo, her new boyfriend. He was a black Cuban. He was going to school at the university of Idaho. He was very charming. He gave me more money than I had ever had in my life up to that point - $14. I went to the store and wasted it with glee. I really liked him a lot. He owned a giant house in the woods. I guess he had five other girlfriends besides my mother as it turned out. And then when he recognized how obsessed with David my mother was, he said something disparaging and left. Personally, though he obviously wasn't a great person, he never did me any real harm. A shitty boyfriend yes he was, but for the time being he was around he was always good about taking us to places we'd never been, and giving me tasks to do for money.

My father found out about Huleo. I ended up visiting with my father, and staying the night in his camper with him. Someone told my father about who my mom was with, and he freaked out. I think he imagined that once he had been gone for a few weeks everyone would miss him and pine for his return. This obviously didn't happen. And then he found out my mother was not only seeing someone else. She was with a black man! Oh the moral panic! There is this really pathetic scene in my mind that I have etched into my memory. When I visited my father over night, he was sobbing and hugging me, crying that my mother had left him for a 'black man'. I can sympathize with him feeling that loss, but he made such a huge deal about Huleo's ethnicity that the whole thing partially makes me laugh. Even as a third grader I knew what he was saying sounded stupid. He started telling me that oooollld fashioned notion that black men are out to corrupt and steal the white women away. And my mother had been corrupted! He was bawling and kept repeating, that my mother had left him for a black man.

This never really did manage to stick in my mind as something I even subconsciously held onto. I thought what he was saying sounded stupid and entitled even as I didn't have the words to understand what I felt about it at the time.. I remember at that moment seeing my father in some fundamental way as being very weak person. I am inclined to say now that I think it was rather funny that this happened to him, not that I think the pain of the situation ultimately taught him anything. Someone who is that socially stupid, and that racist deserves to have their wife and/or girlfriend leave them for a black person.

Roxanne partied a lot while pregnant. She didn't have to worry about my father anymore. Even my mom couldn't stop her. There were so many parties. Teenagers would pile into the house, and everyone would either listen to Usher's first album, Spice Girls, Tupac, Nirvana's Nevermind, Metallica's Black Album, Steve Miller Band's Greatest Hits, Ace Of Base, or Montell Jordan's 'This is How We Do It'. Everyone would get very drunk and high. Teenagers would be having sex in every room. I had the misfortune of walking into Joe having sex with Roxanne's junior high friend Heather. They would also sometimes do this thing where they choked each other out and passed out on the floor. Roxanne once grabbed me, and her friends and her tried to choke me out. I screamed and flailed and scratched my way out of that mess. I remember the whole thing being very terrifying.

I hate to be such a stiff. I really do. But because of all this adult partying, I kind of don't enjoy house parties. I don't like that we can never hear one another, and nobody is being their best selves. I don't mind some drinking and weed smoking from other people, among a small group of people who I actually like, but the majority of the time when there are work parties, I don't really identify with how any of it is any fun. And when there are children in the house, it especially bothers me. I realize that parties for a lot of people can be cool and fun. I just don't have it in me. I just have bad experiences I guess. When in the off chance, someone would ever invite me to a party, I am inclined to say no.

Roxanne having free reign over the house was hard on me. She was able to get away with whatever she wanted to with me – and somehow she saw me as the source of a lot of her personal unhappiness. So she often tried to make me clean. I would not clean at all. She would slap me very hard in the face and make my nose bleed. I learned to sneak out of the house early in the morning before she could find me.

It was during one of Roxanne's many parties that I watch the first seriously scary, at least in those days, slasher movie. I Know What You Did Last Summer. I remember watching it and crying. I had somehow not known up to that point that human beings could be chopped up or gutted. I had for whatever reason not really thought of murder in those terms. What horrified me the most was that scene where the one girl had won the pageant, and her boyfriend, Bary, I think his name was, was watching her win. She sees the hook man come up from behind him, but he can't tell she's warning him because he believes she is just screaming because she is excited. And then there was just multiple stabs. I cried to myself, and after the movie was finally over, I felt sick and I could not talk. That same night, Maria had come back from living in Arizona. I remember she kept trying to talk to me, but I could not speak.

Another time, Roxanne got very high on something. She began chasing me through the house. The old house is kind of annoyingly built in that there are up to three doors in every room, so as the chase went on I could never really know which door she would fly out of. When she caught me she said she was going to tickle me and not stop. Something in her eyes was serious. Like every time she had jokingly picked on me had all accumulated to this final showdown, and she was going to really lay it into me like she had always wanted to but never quite felt free enough to get away with. I was honestly scared to death, crying, begging her to stop. Hiding behind boxes, and in strange compartments when I could. She wasn't giving up. She did this to me for about an hour and a half. There is a short story published in 1924 called The Most Dangerous Game. In it, there is a man who becomes stranded on an island and is hunted like an animal in the jungle by this crazy aristocrat. This situation felt like this.

Eventually, my sister found me and had me cornered in a closet. I was shrieking with fear. She was approaching me with this really crazed look. Instinctively, I took this metallic lampshade that was in the closet, and I threw it at her face as hard as I could. It hit her in the nose. She wailed and held her face in her hands. I thought at first that she was joking, but then she moved her hands and her nose was completely bloody. I am going to honest. I felt badly, but I also felt relief. I felt like my offensive reaction to her had sobered her up. She yelled at me. Then she went to lay down. Hitting her like I did in the nose had somehow really done some damage. She had a migraine. It turns out whatever I had done had actually bent her nose slightly and left a dent.

An hour later, she called me to her bedside. She was being oddly nice to me. She was never this nice to me, and it actually bothered me. I thought she must have been faking it. She asked me for a glass of water very meekly. For some reason it made me upset that she said please to me, and seemed weakened. I don't know exactly why I did what I did, other than she had done the same thing to me throughout my entire life so perhaps I felt like justice was being served. But I secretly spit in her ice water. When I brought the water to her bedside, she actually thanked me and really seemed to appreciate it, in a way she had never ever done previously. I watched her take a drink, and I felt horrible about what I'd done.

In August, Roxanne gave birth to a baby girl – who, my grandma Marie had a vision that her name was to be Sagen (Say-jen). Roxanne slowed down her partying only a lit. As soon as she had Sagen after a few months, she was right back to it.

If my mother was to be found anywhere, I would have to go to her work to find her. She had two clients. One girl named Heather in town. Heather was mentally disabled when she was twelve years old. She had been in my future roommate's class at the time. Her father was that right wing nut my mom became obsessed with's daughter. He was a drug dealer, and basically, when Heather was twelve she had been a successful and popular student. Then she got this fever of 105. Her dad didn't want to take her to the hospital because he was paranoid and on pills. So she just had this fever for three days straight until it permanently damaged her brain. She was no longer able to speak clearly, or control her muscles. She had to leave school. She was nice enough. I am glad I was around her because being around her kind of taught me not to be shocked by people who aren't able bodied. For all my mother's failings as a person (and there are many), she's actually exceptionally great with people who need help like this.

Her second client was an old woman named Esther. Esther was very nice. She was kind of a typical old lady, but with more of an independent streak. She overall did very old ladlike things like eat canned peaches in cottage cheese, listen to her 'stories' on audiotape. She went to church every Sunday. Usually if I wanted to find my mom she would be at Esther's. Esther was a little more special than other old ladies I had met. She was a retired school teacher. She just had a composure about her that was incredibly respectable. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, but she was at the same time very mindful.

I began smoking for awhile there. Roxanne thought it would be funny to give me cigarettes. At first I began choking and gagging, but after awhile, I started feeling a lot calmer if I had them. Then Rachelle started smoking with me. Roxanne would get her cigarettes from this greasy set of twins that lived up the road from us. After awhile, Roxanne for whatever reason had decided that she was going to expand her empire to include the Johnson's. I never felt comfortable with this since the Johnson kids told their parents everything eventually, but Roxanne had taken over the circumstances at this point. Roxanne went after Ashlee, and then after this she started to try to make four year old Ayla smoke. Ayla coughed and cried, and then went home later and told her mom all about it. So the next day, Rachelle and I were playing out in my yard, when the Johnson mother comes into the yard and begins screaming at Rachelle and I, calling us disgusting little snakes, ecetera. She tells us she is going to call the police. I completely broke down frightened. Roxanne was told, and then we had to come clean to mother about it. I was very certain that they were going to cart me off to jail.

What happened was, a police officer came to the house. Roxanne answered. He told Roxanne that he did not approve of her smoking. He wasn't going to write her up, but if there was any more issues, she was going to be in serious trouble. He reminded us that he was being soft on us. They tried to get me to talk to the police officer, but I had smashed myself between the couch and the wall, and my face was hidden under a blanket. I refused to come out. So he talked to me through the blanket. He was pretty reasonable actually. He did not cart me to jail.

My extreme fear was that my father was going to find out that I smoked, and he was going to lay down the law on me. I was more than even that, afraid he would think less of me. He did eventually find out by reading a note Roxanne had written to a friend about how she had made me take a drag of her cigarette for the first time and how I had almost thrown up. This was several months later when circumstances had changed. He was actually not mad at me. When he told me what he had found, I immediately crumpled onto the floor and hid my face like a rabbit. Fortunately he was not mad.

After a few months of prying me for what was really going on in the house, I think my father finally lost his resolve, and despite the fact that he had been excommunicated from the family home, he decided to do a strange bust in late in the night. I had been asleep when he did this. He got his giant camcorder and was filming himself going into the home like a documentary I am told. He caught Joe making out with Roxanne. There were candles and fire hazards everywhere. The entire house's carpeting was completely covered by toys, clothing, and trash. I guess it was pretty bad. My father was freaking out and saying a bunch of stupid insane stuff to everyone. Roxanne called my mother, who pried herself from Huleo's. The police were called. They told my father to leave.

Maria had moved back to Idaho with her high school boyfriend she had ran off with, Earl. Earl was a thief, an abuser and an all around bad guy. They would often beat each other up. Anyway. Around this same time, that old man from part 2, Bucky had died. Maria had agreed to a cheap price on rent, if she and Earl were willing to clean it up. When they got in there, the house was gross. Bucky had not been able to care for himself adequately, and had clearly had some level of dementia. He had been smearing his feces all over his furniture, all over the walls. The toilet was completely topped off with waste that had been left to sit in the hot summer temperature for how knows who long. All of Bucky's money had been spent on catalogs, for several years. He had no friends or family, and he had more of a drinking problem than many people in town were aware of. All this catalog stuff, specialty flashlights, heating pads, tools, flower pots, water bottles, just about everything you find in those catalogs, was all still in it's package. He had been buying this stuff for some reason, boxing it up, and putting it in his basement. I was told I could have some of it if I came up to help fix the house up. So I jumped at the opportunity. The place didn't end up working out in the end though. Maria and Earl had some kind of fight that involved a kitchen knife and then they broke up for a month before getting back together, scrapping the plan to move into that place. Two years later the place burned to the ground.

Rachelle's unruly brother went into Phil's Grocery Store with a trench coat and a paint ball gun and robbed Phil's of all of it's bacon. I am not sure why this happened, but it became a big deal.

Also around this time, Roxanne decided to invent the ULTIMATE slip n' slide. She was very resourceful. I wish I could have a photo of the full 45 feet of downhill slip n' slide that she built. It was a work of art. What we used was two slip n' Slides, the inside lining of a three and a half foot pool – which was incredibly slippery. We lived on a hill, so almost the entire way was straight down. We had a water hose at the top. It was a lot of fun. The only problem was that it ended at a ledge that went ten feet down. Roxanne ended up going so fast that she flew down the 45 feet, and I remember quite well as she flew right off the end and then down the ravine long legs dangling mid air, before falling into sharp rocks and spikey weeds ten feet bellow. She got pretty scratched up. And for whatever reason we had to take down the slip n' slide after that.

On the first day of school in third grade, I was having confusion of where they had moved the bus stop. My father had gone to the store. I was in front of the house when he pulled in. For some reason this prompted me to run towards the drive way, and when I did this, I ended up tripping. I remember it in slow motion. I was falling very slowly, and I fell directly flat on my face, with my teeth exposed. My two top front teeth began gushing blood. I ended up missing my first day of school. I had to be taken to the dentist immediately. I had chipped my two front teeth, and they had to be filled with fake teeth stuff. To this day, if you look at my teeth, there is a discoloration in the center of my top two front teeth.

I had another mean teacher who didn't think much of me. Her name was Mrs. Phillips, and she was very invested in making students feel ashamed and on their toes all the time. She would shower on niceness, before randomly snapping, and she intentionally did this to make everyone around her uncomfortable. She thought I was very stupid, and she was open about it in class. She said she thought I was a slow reader and would never have a mastery of the English language. She would shriek your name, and then stare at you in silence in front of the class. Then she would sit on your desk and tell you what a despicable person you were for ten minutes. This was her gig. Her favorite thing to do was to push students to cry. If she could do that, there would be this glint of satisfaction in her eyes, and she would then begin comforting them, but only after she had broken you. She made a lot of the boys cry. I made a resolve after watching on of the athletic boys in my class who had made the mistake of answering the question she asked incorrectly balling his eyes out and having to be sent into another room, that she would not see me cry. So when she verbally did her song and dance at me eventually, I just disassociated. This seemed to frustrate her, so she tried harder. But then she just gave up. My heart was of course beating a million miles a minute. But I just could not let her have the best of me.

When we were learning cursive, she made it very clear that she didn't think I could ever learn to have perfect handwriting. My work was always pinned on the wall of what not to do. After years of being a good student, I gave up. I could have tried harder. But it didn't matter. I didn't have parents at home who even cared for all the years I had been an exceptional student. I didn't have clean clothes. I didn't really know how to brush my hair, which had mysteriously changed to being very fuzzy and unmanageable. Also, they were sending me with homework. Other than college, I actually firmly am against homework. So I would not do it. When I did math, I would just randomly write down whatever. I drew smiley faces instead of answers. I had gone from one of the best students to the worst.

One person who did intimidate me still to act was this horrific gym teacher they hired. I don't remember his name, and really there is no need for him to have one. He made us run two miles every day without stopping. I could barely breath. Almost all the students, even the athletic ones were not capable of running like this. But he would not let you give up. If you stopped, he would accost you, get in your face, scream at you with fiery anger and blow his fucking whistle. He didn't let you off the hook at all. If you really didn't even try, he had the power to set up a separate gym class at the end of the day, where you had to run the entire time and everyone had to watch. It was humiliating. So, despite my lungs feeling like they were on fire, and despite the agonizing pain in my legs, I learned to keep running despite the pain. Something in my head clicked and I learned how to shut my mind off to physical pain when I needed to. I am not thankful to this asshole for this per say, but because I did learn this endurance, I think it helped me be a stronger person all in all. My fear of humiliation in this rare instance, did actually cause me to become stronger. Still, I am hardly thankful for some 30 year old creep who makes a living blowing a whistle at third graders and screams till his face is red.

Samantha started hanging out with me a little more. We ended up bringing a new girl into our group. She had long golden hair and she was tiny, with enormous dimples. Her name was Sarah-Mae. At first, I really could not stand her. I don't know why. It just seemed like even though she was pretty quiet, everywhere she went everyone flocked to her. When we decided which one of the Spice Girls we were, they always made me Scary Spice because the girls in my group said 'she was the ugliest' (personally, I am now flattered, since she was obviously the best one). Samantha, Catherine, and Sarah-Mae would all group up and talk disparagingly about me. I was their dog. Often times they also thought I was very funny, and due to Roxanne's influence as well as the MAD magazines, I knew all the dirty limericks, comebacks, unique cuss words and ways of insulting people. But when it came to being taken seriously, they all avoided it. They talked about how I looked ratty, how my hair was ugly. How I was fatter than them. That came up a lot. I had started to go through puberty before them. I was also getting kind of chunky because I had developed PCOS and due to all the stress I think. I had zits. And Sarah-Mae of course was Posh Spice. She was Blossom from the Power Puff Girls. Often times, I was not even invited to hang out with them. I was told to shut up a lot.

For whatever reason, by the end of the school year, my dad was invited to live back in the house. Despite, confusingly enough, the accusations from Roxanne of child molestation. My mother told us all that they were going to give their relationship a second chance. So, he moved back in, and they for a brief time were together again. I got a bike for my birthday. My father's presence mysteriously caused the house to get cleaned up. I remember the back yard was like Alfred Hitchcock's 'Birds'. With no rules in the house for several months, I had satisfied my curiosity about what it would be like to rip open a feather pillow. Huleo had dropped off his dog on my mother before they broke up, so I blamed it on Sampson, as that was his name. They figured out it was me, since it was clearly cut with scissors. Roxanne didn't know what to do with the feathers, so she threw them out in the back yard. This brought hundreds of birds to decide to be around our house. I am not sure what this was, but it was because of all the feathers I am pretty sure. They were constantly pecking the feathers off the ground. If you went out there, it was at your own peril, because the birds would swarm you.

Then, after having been friends with Rachelle for seven years, she told me she was going to move at the end of that school year. It was shocking and devastating. Neither one of us could really believe it. She was moving down to Twin Falls, so I wouldn't be seeing her anymore really. It seemed, and still seems monstrously unfair that adults can just make these kinds of decisions for children. Obviously it's not anyone's fault. But it was difficult, and a fairly pivotal moment for who I was.

Rachelle and I made a lot of promises to write. I didn't end up fulfilling my end of it very well. We had been through everything together. In fact, Rachelle was the core part of my identity. Separating us, despite our differences in age and personality, was like splitting up twins. As the rest of the year progressed, and things came to a close, closure was put to my childhood. Without Rachelle, I didn't have an escape. I didn't have anyone who understood me. I would be more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. On the day before Rachelle finally moved, we met in between her house and mine and we hugged and cried. And then I remember sobbing and going back to my house. I remember walking up the flight of steps to my room, and sitting on my bed, and having this silent existential crisis. The tragedy of it was beyond even crying. The tragedy was a silence that I carried with me for several years. I really had no idea who I was, or what the purpose of doing anything was anymore.

As the years went by, Rachelle became more of a distant memory. She became more of an inner force that I could summon when I was feeling shy, or scared. Because Rachelle didn't get shy or scared. I simply had to carry her with me through the years. I eventually tried to get a hold of her on MySpace, and she had left school, met someone she was madly in love with, and had two children. She wasn't really one of those people who would use their email or the internet though. So most of her responses to me were seldom, and after getting this one response, I don't think she really saw any of my attempts to contact her. And by that time, we were clearly very different. She partied a lot. I was a bookish loner. I didn't have anything to say that would immediately peak her interest. Then several years later, in my twenties, I kept trying to find her on facebook. Because just about everyone has a facebook, and in the age of information, even someone like her would be on facebook. And yet she never was. I poured through records for her very hard in 2014, and after a bunch of dead ends, I found her in the Twin Falls obituaries. It didn't say how she died, but I eventually found her older sister on facebook, who let me know that Rachelle had died of an Oxycontin overdose on her 21st birthday. She was never the kind of person who knew when to stop doing something, and it finally killed her. She had almost died a few times in the course of time I had known her, from climbing on boulders that almost fell on top of her, to handling rattle snakes, to almost drowning in the creek before I saved her.

I get this dull ache in my stomach when I think about it. I guess her husband, as she eventually married the guy she was with was so distraught by her death that he repeatedly did and still does attempt to commit suicide. His family is quite wealthy, and they took in her son and daughter to raise as their own.

And this is how life happens. We have these great moments, people, and feelings, and then time takes them away. Nothing can be held onto.

Part 1

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160186590059/about-me-life-story-part-1

Part 2

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160333575899/life-story-part-2

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