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I turn around, still shaking, and walk around the block, not wanting to pass the pile of people. I take my time and keep an eye out for Mark. I reach my house and hesitate in the front yard. I check the time and am glad that it’s late enough to seem like school is over. I slip through the door quickly and quietly. A small person stands in the doorway to the kitchen, hands on hips.
“Bit early, aren’t you? Did you run home from school?”
I frown. “Not today, Cissy. Please? And maybe you should check the time.” I walk briskly to my room and could hear her follow.
“Hayley, you’re too early. Did you ditch school?”
I sit on my bed and she stands in front of me, black hair a mess and dark brown eyes flashing with mischief.
“You did, didn’t you? I won’t tell Mum...” Relief washes over me. “If you pay up.”
“You’re a turd, you know that? She won’t believe you.” I hope she could feel how pissed off I am at her. “No, I’m not being blackmailed! Especially by you. Go away!” I glare at her.
She crosses her arms stubbornly. “No.”
“I’m, what, nearly ten years your senior. Mum will believe me more than she would you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can feel a headache coming on. “Get out!” I stand and hold open the door.
She sighs and obeys. I close the door on her foot which had suddenly appeared again. She pushes the door back open.
“Now what? I’m pissed off enough.”
“Mum’s home. Last chance.” She sticks out an arm.
“No! Go away!” I’m nearly screaming. “Out!” I start to close the door.
“Gee, Hayley.” She holds open the door. “Angry much?”
“You’re really getting on my nerves, Cisseena.”
She frowns as I use her full name. “And what are you going to do about it?”
I snap. “I don’t care how young and innocent you act towards adults, you’re just a lying b***h. I’m sick of you. Never a moment’s peace do I get. Get lost, I hate you.”
Her eyes widen in shock and hurt. Before I could take another breath I feel the sting of her small hand on my left cheek. The squeezing and stabbing and she starts screaming in pain. My left eye waters as I look on in disbelief. Not Cissy! Please not Cissy. Her eyes are accusing before they collapse and ooze out of the sockets. Footsteps thunder down the hall. I reach out and hold the red and blistered hand.
“I’m sorry.” My voice isn’t steady.
Tears blur my vision and all I can see is red falling and white blackening and crumbling. I drop to my knees next to the pile, my hand empty except for ashes and red flesh. The footsteps beat a hasty retreat. Oh, Cissy! I’m sorry. I let the ash fall through my fingers and the flesh rolls off my hand. Why is this happening? Oh, Cissy. I’m so sorry! My body shakes with gasping sobs. No! Cissy can’t be gone. I dimly hear footsteps approach me.
“Hayley, dear, what’s wrong?” Mum’s black, heeled boots stand in the mess in my doorway. I swallow my disgust and look up. My mum holds out a hand and I take it, helping me stand. I let go of it quickly and step back. Now I know, now I’m sure, that whoever I touch rots. It’s a hard fact to accept. Mum looks hurt and I try to console her.
“Mum, I’m sorry. I have to deal with this on my own.” Because you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth. You would take me to a psychiatrist. I know what I saw and so does Mark. More than me even.
Confusion and worry line her gentle, pretty face. Her light brown eyes look me over. “Are you sure you’re okay? People don’t just bawl their eyes out on their knees in their room.” The crude, blunt side of her is starting to come out again now that she knew there was no trouble.
I frown. “Go, please.” I can’t stand how emotionless she can get. Maybe it has something to do with Dad’s violent outbursts. I start to close the door slowly.
“Fine, but come out for tea. You didn’t last time.” She turns with a flick of shiny brown hair and clicks down the hall.
I close the door and move away quickly. Cissy is still there. I turn my back to what remains of her and pull my window open. The smell of fuel and bitumen renews, covers the scent of rotting, and a small breeze flows into my room. I look back to the floor in front of my door. The ash stirs. Oh, Cissy. I gaze at it, my thoughts running along her life.
“I told you not to be angry, Hayley.”
I spin around and look frantically out the window. I heard Mark, I swear I did. It was so quiet though, barely a whisper. The yard is as empty and overrun as it was minutes ago. My pulse thrums a quick beat.
“Mark?”
No one is out there. It had to be in my head. It could’ve been, it was that quiet. Don’t be angry? What? Where’d I get that from? I close my eyes and lean against my wall. Mark pops into my head. It was when he had begun to run from me. He had called over his shoulder.
“Hayley! Don’t be angry, not just for my sake but for others!”
But for others? I open my eyes as a flood of realisation comes over me. My anger does it. I stare at the dwindling pile of Cissy. I kill people because I’m angry. I have a strange fit of the giggles. When it calms I feel a sense of something ominous in the future. Probably me going into a mental institution.