The Value of All--Part 1

     I will warn you that I really didn't like the way this story came out (yes, I actually finished this one).  I enjoyed writing it, but the overall storyline didn't satisfy me.  I didn't feel like it had much of a point . . .  Anyway, with that being said, hopefully you will still enjoy reading it.  :)

          “What do they value the most?” the man leaned on the mahogany table, the tips of his fingers resting together. 

          “What indeed?” his companion smiled, his gray eyes hard and cold. “You never can tell.”

          “It is an interesting thought.”

          “Of course,” he leaned back and his smile grew wider, “Of course.”

          The air was crisp and chilly carrying the feel of fall.  Elitia walked down the sidewalk, dry leaves crunching beneath her feet while newly fallen ones drifted down and gently brushed her face.  The world was a maze of bright colors beneath a dreary sky. 

          “Argh!” her face contorted into a scowl as she tried to untangle her black hair from around a twig.  It came out reluctantly while pulling out several strands in a last attempt to remain.  She tossed it to the ground and continued on her way. 

          A small house on the corner claimed her attention.  Her eyes looked distastefully at the flaking paint that could no longer claim to be white.  A ramshackle porch sagged wearily against the house; the only beauty it could claim was the colorful leaves that ordained its gray wood. 

          The steps creaked beneath Elitia’s feet as she made her way to the front door, its screen ripped out and its glass cracked.  Her feet felt like lead and her whole body yearned to be away from this place.  Yet, at the same time, this old house held a source of comfort.  Perhaps it was the memories tied up in its worn frame.

          Elitia shoved the door open with a bang.  Inside, the house showed the efforts of a meticulous housekeeper:  her mother. 

          She stood there for a moment in the empty hallway.  The house was silent.  She must not be home.  As she entered the very last room on the left she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror:  a pale girl with large green eyes and jet black hair stared back at her.  She shuddered.  Even the contrast of her hair and face bothered her.  No wonder it bothered everyone else. 

          Her backpack hit the ground with the thump, and her black leather jacket landed on top of it with a swish. 

          As she prepared to head to the kitchen in search of some goodies, a scrap of paper caught her eyes.  It lay lopsided on the desk and was covered with a familiar scrawl.

Work called.  They didn’t say why. 

There is some soup in the fridge for supper.

Love you.

          Elitia’s stomach growled reminding her she hadn’t eaten lunch.  However, she ignored it, her mind intent on the note.  Something wasn’t right.  She stood there for a moment longer until her stomach sent up a more determined protest.

          “Alright, alright.  Pipe down.”

          Inside the kitchen a worn out refrigerator chugged wearily in the corner, its exterior sparkling from a recent scrubbing.  The door clicked quietly as Elitia opened it and rummaged through the containers until she found the right one.  She methodically ladled the soup into a glass bowl and then stuck it in the microwave.  While her hands performed these simple tasks, her mind reviewed the day.  Like usual, it had stunk.

          Kids had made fun of her.  Her teachers had rejected her.  And even her friends had seemed aloof.  She took a deep breath trying to control the emotions raging through her body.  Her lips quivered.  Why couldn’t she fit in?  And why was there a nagging fear at the back of her mind?

          The microwave dinged.  It sounded loud in the silence.  She opened it and took a bite of the soup while using her elbow to close the door.  “Yum.”  At least one thing has gone right today.

          The front door slammed.  “I’m home!” a cheerful voice announced.  A freckled face peered into the kitchen before the young girl came dancing in.   Red hair stuck out crazily from around small ears and a wide smile swallowed the girl’s face. 

          “Can I have some soup?” Colette swung her backpack onto the kitchen table and slid into one of the wobbly metal chairs.  “Where’s mom?  Is there any bread to go with it?”

          Elitia blinked against the whirlwind of questions.  It was typical of her sister.  Yet, like usual, she had trouble adjusting to the sudden change of pace.

          “Go put up your backpack,” a frown turned down the corners of Elitia’s mouth, “You know better than to put it on the table.”

          “Can I have some soup when I get back?”

          “Of course.  Do you think I’m going to starve you or something?”

          Colette grinned impishly and dragged the bag off the table allowing it to crash into the floor before she headed towards her room. 

          By the time she returned, Elitia had fixed another bowl of soup and had scrounged up some crackers from the cupboard. 

          “Can’t I have some bread?” Colette asked between slurps of soup.

          Elitia ignored the question.  It was a stupid one.  When was the last time they had extra bread sitting around?

          “Where’s mom?”

          “Work.”  Elitia dumped her empty bowl into the sink, hesitating before she moved away.  Guilt poked her mind, but she promised herself that she would clean it up before her mom got home.

          “Why did she have to go to work?”

          The question floated behind her unanswered as she left the room.

          A loud buzzing sound filled the air.  Elitia cracked her eyes open, her mind struggling to remember where she was.  Home.  Her room.  In bed.  And that was the phone ringing. 

          She ran a hand over her face and shoved her feet out of the covers.  Darkness filled the house as she stumbled towards the phone in the hall.  “Hello?” she yawned as she said the words and leaned against the wall. 

          “Honey, its mom.  I'm headed home.  I'm sor-“ a loud screeching sound cut off her mother’s words.

          “Hello?”

          No one replied. 

          Elitia froze, the phone pressed tightly to her ear.  Her fingers felt numb, and her stomach dropped to the ground.  Think.  She just got cut off that’s it.  There’s nothing to worry about.  She set the phone down trying to breath.  Trying to think. 

          She stumbled into the kitchen and shakily poured herself a drink of cold water.  As she took a sip she replayed the conversation in her mind.  It’s nothing.  She repeated to herself.  But still the uncertainty remained.  She could have sworn that that screech had been her mother's voice.

          It was morning.  The realization come slowly as Elitia tried to straighten up.  The kitchen chairs had not been made for sleeping.  She stretched and heard her back crack.  What had happened?  Then it came back in a rush.  The phone call.  The screech.  Mom.  Maybe she was home.  Elitia rushed into the hall and to her mother’s room.  The bed was empty and unwrinkled.  She then checked the driveway.  The car was still gone. 

          Cold air seeped up from the boards and into Elitia’s feet as she stood there.  Maybe I could call the place where she works.   She shuddered at the idea.  That place gave her the creeps.  But still . . . 

          She picked up the phone and dialed. 

          “Hello?” a business like voice said cheerfully on the other end.

          Elitia shuddered.  It sounded ominous to her.  “Uh, yes.  I’m calling about my mother, Jane Walsh.”

          “Yes, what about her?”

          “Well, um, I was just wondering when she was going to come home.  You see, she left last night and hasn’t come back,” Elitia took a big breath to settle her erratic nerves.

          Colette walked out of her room fully dressed and ready for another day of school.  “Who are you talking to?”

          “Shh!” 

          “Let me look.  Jane Walsh, correct?”

          “Yes,” Elitia played with the peeling wallpaper as she waited.  And waited.

          The lady finally started talking again, “As far as I can see she left for home a little bit before midnight.  If you would like I can check with the police department.  Perhaps her car broke down.”

          “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

          “Not at all.”  There were a few more moments of silence.  “What is your name?”

          “E-Elitia.”

          “Elitia I really don’t know how to say this, but it seems that your mother had a car accident on the way home.  It was fatal, honey.”

          Elitia gritted her teeth.  If the lady was trying to sound sympathetic, she was failing.

          “Are you still there?”

          “Yes.  I am.”

          “I am so sorry.”

          “Thank you,” the words barely fit past the growing lump in her throat.   She put the phone down, unable to tolerate anymore of her slippery words.  “No,” she whispered.

          Colette stared at her, her blue eyes wide and fearful, “What’s wrong?”

          Elitia shook her head.  Words refused to come.

          “Is it mom?”

          She managed a shaky nodded. 

          Tears welled up in the young girl’s eyes. 

          That’s all it took to break the dam.  Elitia crumpled to the floor and wept.  “She’s dead,” she sobbed. 

          A knock echoed through the house.  As she started to rise from the floor the door burst open.  Forms dressed in black entered like a horde.  They appeared blurry and disjointed through her tears.  Hands grabbed her arms and jerked them behind her back.  From somewhere nearby Colette shrieked.  That brought her to life. 

          “Leave her alone!” she struck out.  Her fingernails gouged into someone’s face.

          “You little wretch!” a hand slapped her cheek. 

          She struggled even more.  Screams tore from her throat as she lashed out with both her hands and feet. 

          Something slammed her face into the ground and her hands were cruelly twisted behind her back.  The cold metal of handcuffs touched her wrists.  But she didn’t care.  She continued to kick as hard as she could. 

          Then out of the mist she saw a fist moving towards her.  Stars appeared and a black hole beckoned her.  The last thing she heard was Colette crying her name.