Chapter 2- Voices in the Dark
It was three later that I heard the first voice in the dark, calling my name so softly that it could have been a dream.
I woke to a sunny morning, the light blazing through a gap in my curtains and onto my face. I sighed, wishing that it would be a rainy day instead. Slowly, I opened my eyes, the familiar white paint of my ceiling the first thing I saw. My ears gradually became accustomed to the banging downstairs as my mother prepared Grace’s lunch. Soon, she would come to wake me and tell me to get ready for school.
School, I thought, the one place I don’t want to go to. Eventually, there would be a day that I woke up and didn’t have to rush off to school. But there was still little over a year left to go until that day came. So I guess I will just have to endure six hours of boredom everyday. Thankfully, it would be the summer holidays in a few weeks. Then, I could sleep in as long as I wanted.
There was a soft knock at the door and then my mother cooed through the door.
“Maddi, time to get up now, love.” I groaned as I stood up.
“I am, Mum,” I replied. I heard her footsteps walking down the hall and then they disappeared as she descended down the stairs at the end.
I sighed again and then opened my wardrobe doors. I have a large collection of clothes, but never really get around to wearing them. I prefer to wear shorts and a shirt, rather than dresses and skirts. But I do like to dress up nicely occasionally if I’m going out to the movies of dinner. Unfortunately, my high school likes to signify the differences between the girls and the boys by making us have different uniforms. Of course, the boys have shorts and shirts. However, I have to wear a knee length dress with a small yellow tie that is compulsory for boys as well.
I pulled my uniform off the coat hanger it was hanging on and then slammed the doors shut on my wardrobe, watching it shake slightly. Then, I walked from the room to the bathroom where I closed the door after me. Hopefully, Grace wouldn’t come in at all. Perhaps the running of the water would tell her that it was already occupied and that she would have to wait.
I washed my hair with my favourite shampoo – tropical – and then turned off the hot water. Feeling refreshed and awake, I dried myself and dressed into my ugly uniform before returning to my room.
I stared at myself in my full length mirror. My uniform really didn’t show off my best assets. The ugly yellow of it was too golden, almost an orange colour. The blue, I didn’t mind so much. Seeing as though it took up most of the uniform and the only thing that was yellow was the tie and stripes on the dress, I had learned to live with it for the four years I had been at high school.
I ran my fingers through my chocolate brown hair, wondering what to do with it. Normally, I would tie it up. I preferred it to be out of my face. But today, it had a nice wave to it that I knew when it dried would probably straighten out, as usual. I surveyed my self up and down with my large, brown eyes. My skin is very pale, well my face is at least. My arms and legs, which are quite skinny, have the slightest brown tinge to them. I am proud of my small tan. My face, however, is a creamy colour. I have a few freckles across my small nose and under my large eyes. I get my looks from my father, except I have my mother’s hair.
Deciding that nothing could be done about my looks or my uniform, I began to pack my bag.
“Maddi!” the familiar screech of my little sister came from outside in the hall. My door banged open and my little, seven year old sister ran into my room.
“What?” I hissed angrily. She was always coming into my room when she wasn’t allowed. She saw the frustrated look on my face and cowered a little.
“I just wanted to remind you what day it is today,” she whimpered. I looked at the calendar of flowers on my wall, only to realise that it was the thirteenth of October.
“Oh, thanks,” I muttered to Grace. She stared at me and then raced back out of the room, closing the door quickly behind her.
It had been three months since the accident. I hadn’t forgotten it. How could I forget it? Everyday when I stepped out the front door, there was a constant reminder staring me in the eyes as I looked at the old street lamp. It had barely received any damage; just a small dint in it. It was nothing compared to the damage that the black Mercedes had received, along with its driver, Kalaen Warterton. His family was suffering deeply from the tragic loss of their only son. I still felt guilty about his death, and today, it would get a lot worse.
For the past two months, on the thirteenth, I had been taking a bunch of flowers down to his grave in the local cemetery. I felt like I had to, like it was my duty. I was trying to pay him back for never saving his life. Only once, I had seen Kalaen’s parents. I had talked to them for a few minutes before leaving quickly. Perhaps, I would see them again when I went this afternoon.
Grace could still remember the night clearly, as could my mother and father. They had tried sending both of us to councillors, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. Grace said exactly what I said. She does that quite often. She copies what I do. I still can’t get the image of Kalaen’s face out of my head and I was sure that Grace couldn’t as well. She had gotten over it quite quickly. But I was still coming to terms with that fact that there would always be a seat in my classes spare.
I slowly made my way downstairs to have some breakfast. Grace was already sitting at the table, eating her cornflakes quietly. She tended to make awkward situations even more awkward by staring at me. I looked over at my mother who was busy preparing breakfast for herself.
“Maddi, can you make sure Grace gets her bag packed today?” my mother asked. “I need to help your father with something.”
“Sure Mum,” I replied. I walked into the kitchen and put a piece of bread in the toaster. I leant against the bench, waiting for my breakfast to be done. She smiled uneasily at me, but I didn’t return the smile.
My mother and Grace could almost be twins, but with a few – at least thirty – years difference. They both have light brown hair that looks like silk in the sun. My mother, Jeanne, has it cut short, like a lot of mother’s do. Grace likes hers to be long so when she runs, it flies behind her gracefully like ribbon being pulled along in the wind. Today, she was wearing it in two long ponytails on either side of her head. They both have very pale, grey eyes, almost cloudy like an overcast day. I envy them for their olive skin, wishing that I had skin that colour and less freckles. Their perfectly spotless, clean and fresh-looking, smooth skin makes me angry that I take after my father in looks; though my skin is smooth and fresh.
The toaster popped and I pulled out the piece of crisp toast, buttered it and then sat down at the table next to Grace. She stared at me the way little kids do when they are curious. I ignored her and bit into my piece of toast.
“What’s for breakfast?” a man’s voice called from the staircase. My father strode into the room, a newspaper in his hand. He smiled when he saw Grace and me sitting at the table eating our breakfast and then pecked my mother on the cheek.
“You’re looking nice today, dear,” he complimented. Jeanne’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he noticed the purple dress she was wearing.
Jeanne likes to dress up... everyday. That’s why I have so many dresses. She goes out and buys me clothes that we all know I’ll never wear. She wants me to be too girly for my liking. I guess it’s a good thing I look like my father, Mike.
“Your toast is on the counter,” Jeanne said to my father.
“Thank you dearest,” he said before walking around her in our large kitchen and grabbing the toast from on the counter. He took a huge bite out of it and then sat down at the table.
“So, Mads, what’s on the agenda for today?” Mike asked cheerfully. ‘Mads’ was the name he called me. I didn’t exactly approve of it, but I couldn’t tell him to call me anything else because I didn’t like my normal name.
“The usual; school,” I said carelessly, hoping that he wouldn’t remember the date.
“Aren’t you going to the cemetery?” Grace asked loudly from beside me. My parents looked questioningly at her and then at me.
“Don’t you know what the date is Dad? It’s the thirteenth,” I mumbled quietly.
“Oh, right. So, I guess you’ll be home late then,” Mike assumed. I nodded my head and chewed my toast quietly. Trust Grace to remind my parents about the date.
I finished my toast quickly and then got up from the table. I could feel the tension radiating off my parents and I needed to get out of the room quickly. Grace stared after me, her milky eyes wide with curiosity.
Once in my room, I began packing my bag for school, shoving the books I would need in carelessly. A soft knock on my door sounded and then slowly and very cautiously, a small face appeared in around my door. Grace looked scared and worried, but I didn’t really care.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Mum said you have to help me pack my bag,” Grace said. I rolled my eyes, remembering that I had agreed to help Grace. I sighed and then dropped the books I was carrying on my bed and followed her to her room.
Grace’s room is a lot more girly than mine. Her favourite colour is purple, so naturally, her walls are painted purple. Her bed quilt is checkered in different shades of purple, her pillow lavender purple. Even the desk she had in the corner which was tidy compared to mine was purple. She couldn’t get enough of the colour purple. I always felt drowned when I had to go into her room for something.
She sat down on her soft bed while I found her books and shoved them into the bag she was holding open. The bag was purple, by the way.
“Can I come with you this afternoon?” Grace asked suddenly. I shook my head stubbornly.
“Please? Why not?” she crooned.
“Because, I said so. Cemeteries aren’t places for little girls,” I said as I zipped up her bag.
“Which is why I should be allowed to come. What do you do there anyway?” she sniffed.
“Think, put flowers on his grave. It’s not really any of your business what I do there,” I said.
“Was he your boyfriend?” Grace queried.
“No!” I almost shouted. “I would be a lot more upset if he was.”
“Was he your friend?” Grace asked.
“No! I barely knew him,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Well, why are you going to his grave if you didn’t know him?”
“Maybe, when you grow up, you’ll understand,” I hissed before throwing her bag on the ground and stalking out of the room. I heard her humph but I couldn’t be bothered concerning myself with the way she reacted to my actions. Perhaps when she did grow up, she would understand why I feel the need to go to his grave. I owe it to him.
My friends at school didn’t know what date it was either. I was so glad that Grace wasn’t there to remind them. I met up with them outside class and chatted as happily as I could manage – which wasn’t very happily. I never really took much notice of what the conversation was about. All I knew was that Tayla was talking loudly about something that had happened the night before.
“And then, he kissed me!” she said excitedly. There were gasps from all around me, so I quickly decided I would try to pay more attention to what she was saying so I didn’t looked distracted.
“He kissed you!” Georgia exclaimed, her green eyes wide with excitement. Tayla nodded her head up and down, a big grin on her face.
“What was it like?” Georgia asked.
“Amazing!” Tayla whispered. And then they went off into another trance where she described.... Ugh!
“Maddi, stop day dreaming,” Frances whispered in my ear. I wasn’t day dreaming. I was just trying to tune out of the conversation. I smiled at her and then tried to look interested in what Tayla was saying.
I wouldn’t call myself popular, but I do have quite a few friends. Everyone is friends in my grade. It’s just something that happens automatically. Even if you don’t sit with them at lunch, you talk to everyone at least once a day. Girls tend to be friends with girls, while boys remain shy with the boys. There are very few couples; the latest one being my straw blonde friend, Tayla and her boyfriend Jason. Everybody was liked at our school, even if they were secluded like Kalaen had been.
The familiar sound of our school bell prevented Tayla from continuing her analysis of everything her and Jason had gotten up to on their date the previous night. Thankfully, we hurried into class and sat down. I stared around the room at all the familiar faces sitting at the clean, wooden desks.
Our school is extremely clean and tidy. You’ll find no graffiti on the desks of on the walls of the toilets. The classrooms are always tidy; the desks aligned neatly in rows, the carpeted floors always free of paper and pencil shavings. The principal is very proud of our reputation and no one dares to change it either.
As I gazed around the classroom, I noticed one desk that was empty at the back of the classroom; Kalaen’s seat. It was so bare, empty. Nobody had sat there since he had died. They all sat in their usual seats. No one seemed to really notice me staring at his empty desk. It had become a habit for me to look back there, expecting to see him sitting by himself. I still got a surprise to see that he wasn’t there.
I hadn’t cried at all since he died. I know I probably should have. I wasn’t close to him. I barely knew him. I felt guilty for letting him die, and I know that I will always feel guilty. I probably would have cried if I had found the courage too. I guess I just haven’t realised that he really is dead and he’s not coming back.
Mr. Swanson walked into the room, clearing his throat loudly in order to get everyone’s attention. I turned back to face the whiteboard. Mr. Swanson scanned the classroom, his eyes gliding over Kalaen’s empty desk and past me, his round face stern.
There are very few ways to describe Mr. Swanson. He is slightly rotund with a shaved head and large blue eyes. He always wears light grey pants and a button up shirt. He doesn’t usually wear his glasses, only when he needs them. He can be very strict at times, but he does have a sense of humour on his good days.
“Quiet, please!” he called over the raucous noise that was coming from the corner of the room where a group of boys were talking loudly amongst them selves. The boys stopped talking and turned to the front of the room. I looked down the line of desks at Tayla who was smiling at one of the boys; Jason. Jason, the black haired boy, smiled at her and then looked at the board. I rolled my eyes. I had never taken much time to care for boys. They always seemed like a waste of time. But Tayla was a very different person to me. She just about always had a boyfriend. Quite often she got on my nerves when telling us about her many dates.
The lesson passed fairly quickly, considering it was Math; my worst and most hated subject along with science. I listened to Mr. Swanson drone on and on and was rather surprised when the bell went for the end of class. Normally, the classes would go really slowly. But because I was going to the cemetery, today was one of only three days in the past three months that would go quickly.
I sighed inaudibly as I packed up my books and slung my bag over my shoulder. Frances and Hayley joined me at the door. They were in my next class, Physical Education.
“What are your plans for the weekend?” Hayley asked me as we walked down the hall towards our next class. Everywhere around us, people were chatting noisily.
“Oh, well, you know. The usual; nothing,” I said.
“Same,” Frances replied. “We should do something.” Hayley nodded.
“Well, I was actually planning on having a surprise birthday party for Georgia, cause it’s her birthday on Saturday. Do you guys want to help me?” Hayley asked.
“Sure,” Frances and I both replied.
“Cool. Can you come round this afternoon?”
“Yeah. I’ll just have to tell Mum. I’ll call her at lunch,” Frances replied, smiling and showing her braces that were due to be taken off over the summer holidays.
“What about you Maddi?”
“Um, I can’t, sorry. I’ve got something to do. Maybe tomorrow,” I mumbled.
“Oh, right. Has it got anything to do with boys?” Hayley asked with a giggle.
“No. It’s the thirteenth today,” I said. The smile disappeared from her face and she looked at the ground as we walked. All my friends understood what I meant when I said this. They knew that I went to the cemetery every month to place flowers on Kalaen’s grave. They never said anything about it though, knowing that it only brought back memories that I wanted to forget and made me feel even guiltier.
“Oh. Well, we can do it tomorrow as well, if you like,” Hayley offered.
“I’ll see what I can do. I may have to bring Grace though. I think Mum is going to be working late, but I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I said. Hayley smiled and nodded before we hurried off to our next class.
The bell rang for the end of school and I packed up my books and ran from the classroom, Frances close on my heels. Frances was a good friend to have in times like these. She supported me without making it obvious and I was proud to call her my best friend.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as we reached the gates. I smiled and nodded before we split. She went left and got on the idling bus where a long line of children were cramming themselves through the doors. I went right, walking past the cars with waiting parents in them.
I kept walking down the cement path until I came to the corner of the road, where the roads crossed and cars were pulling off onto different streets. I waited for the cars to pass, though it seemed like they were an endless stream. Across the road, was the brightly painted flower shop that I would buy the flowers for Kalaen’s grave from. Then, I would spend half an hour walking down the road towards the cemetery that was on the outskirts of our small town.
Middleton really is a small town. We have one grocery store which I would have to pass by on my way, the florist shop across the road, a police station, a small doctor’s surgery that also passed as the hospital, the primary school and the high school that I now walked from and several small, family run businesses. I really didn’t see the reason we lived there, but I loved Middleton all the same. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.
I ran across the road as a red mini stopped at the cross section. The other side of the street was really bare compared to the side I had just been on. Lots of people walked home from school on that side. I darted into the florist.
Immediately the sweet odour of flowers filled my nose as the aurora wafted from the hundreds of bright flowers. I walked through the crammed little shop, looking at bunches of flowers as I passed them. None of them seemed to be the right sort of thing for what I was looking for.
“Maddi!” a voice called. I looked up to see Jenny, the owner of the shop, hurrying towards me, her arms stretched out wide. I embraced her quickly and then stepped back.
“Back again?” Jenny asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“How have you been?” Jenny asked as she bustled off towards the end of the shop. I followed closely.
“Oh, well, you know... I’m coping,” I said quietly. Jenny nodded her head, her red hair bouncing up and down in the high ponytail.
“How is school?” she asked.
“Boring,” I laughed half-heartedly. “What about you? How is business?”
“Well, it was good when... well a few months ago. But now it’s just the normal customers. Though, there have been quite a few people coming through to get flowers,” Jenny replied, trying to stay off the topic of Kalaen.
We had reached the back of the shop now. Jenny browsed through the black roses, searching for a bundle that would do. Eventually, she pulled out one. All the roses were black except one, which was red. She handed it to me, and I handed her the money I had been clutching in my hand.
“Bye,” I said as I walked out of the shop and back onto the noisy street.
I stared at the grave, at the tombstone that read:
Kalaen Mikhail Warterton
1986-2003
R.I.P
In my hand, I held the roses that Jenny had given to me. I could smell the sweet odour perfuming off them, tickling my nose. All around me were other tombstones and name plates. I shuddered at the thought that I would one day be joining them. It always felt colder in our small town cemetery, colder than it normally was. I laid the roses on the grass below Kalaen’s tombstone.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I could have sworn a voice said ‘Don’t be.’ But when I looked around, there was nobody there. I began to wonder what the time was. Cemeteries scared me when it was dark. Just driving past them during the night freaked me out enough. After several short seconds of thought, I decided I would go home.
Half an hour later, I arrived home. Neither Mum nor Dad was home yet, but when I called out, Grace answered. Mum had been home to drop her off after school. She followed me to my room where she sat on the end of my bed and watched me casually unpack my bag.
“You were gone a long time. I was getting scared you had hurt yourself,” Grace said.
“I wasn’t gone that long,” I snapped, angry that my privacy had been invaded... again.
“Yes you were. Mum dropped me home at four-thirty, and it’s ten to six now. What were you doing down there?” Grace asked.
“None of your business. Now scoot!” I said, pointing to the door. Grace jumped off my bed and stomped out of the room. I closed the door behind her.
I was sure I had heard someone say something in the cemetery. But there hadn’t been anyone else there. I hadn’t recognised the voice at all. It wasn’t Kalaen’s parents, or even my parents. It wasn’t even Grace’s annoyingly sweet voice. Perhaps I had imagined it. That was most likely it. I hadn’t heard a voice at all. It had all been in my head. That sounded like a good enough explanation.
At nine o’clock, after Grace was asleep in bed and Jeanne and Mike were watching TV, I had a shower and went to bed. I lay awake for a while, just thinking about the night of the accident. Kalaen’s tortured face was still stuck in my mind and it wasn’t going away. After half an hour, I finally closed my eyes and dozed off to sleep.
“Maddison,” the hushed voice called. My eyes shot open in the darkness, searching for the person who had said my name. But I couldn’t see a thing. Even when I turned my bedside light on, there was no one there. Only the familiar desk in the corner, my wooden wardrobe stashed with clothes I would never wear, and my bookshelf occupied the room. I frowned, sure that I had heard something. I checked the time on my alarm clock. It was one o’clock. Deciding that I had been imagining it again, I turned the light off and lay back down.
“Maddison,” the voice called again. It sounded like the same voice I had heard in the cemetery. My eyes were wide, expecting someone to suddenly point a gun to my head or something like that. But, how would a burglar know my name. Unless it was Grace playing a trick on me.
“Who’s there?” I called in a hoarse voice. But the voice never answered. In fact, it never answered for the rest of the night. I closed my eyes, trying to get back to sleep. But I only managed to doze for the rest of the night.
The next morning, I woke with big, purple and black circles under my eyes. I had barely slept since I had heard the strange voices in the dark. Whoever it had been had never replied after I asked who it was and I was beginning to wonder whether it was all just a dream, or nightmare.
Grace came bounding into my room around seven-thirty to wake me up. As usual, I was already awake. She jumped on top of me, shouting for me to get up.
“Grace, I’m awake!” I almost shouted back. But I kept my anger under control.
“Mum says you have to get up right now. She’s dropping us at school early,” Grace called. I rolled my eyes as she darted out of the room. I dressed as quickly as I could and then darted downstairs to scoff down a piece of toast and packed my bag.
Jeanne dropped up off at school at quarter past eight. As I suspected, I was the only one at school at that hour. The bus didn’t arrive until around twenty to nine, which meant I would have less than half an hour of boredom and loneliness until any of my friends arrived. Most people who didn’t catch the bus arrived around the same time as the bus did, so that they wouldn’t be like me and have to sit around for ages, waiting for their friends to come.
I sat under the cover of a large tree, sheltering from the grey clouds that were gathering ominously overhead. I knew it would rain today. There was hardly a day in Middleton where it wasn’t spoiled by at least one downpour. Yesterday was one of the rare days where we actually get to see the sun, though not as brightly as we hope it to be.
I was trying to remember the dream I had been having, the one where someone was calling my name from the dark shadows of my room. I know nothing much had happened. There had been no one else in the room. It had been dark in my dream, and the voice sounded very soft. But it felt so real, like someone was actually there calling my name.
I sighed, staring at the few, brick buildings in front of me that made up our small country school. There are different buildings for different subjects. The English and Maths department have the same building, while Drama, Art and Music share a large brick building with an adjoining hall. The science department is the only department that has its own building, though it is very small and has about three classrooms in total.
I watched as one of the cleaners loped across the cement footpath towards the next building they had to clean. I knew this cleaner. It was Linda; a kind, ageing lady who had comforted me when I returned to school after Kalaen’s accident.
It was then, that I heard the voice again; calling my name is such a soft voice it was barely above a whisper.
“Maddison.” Perhaps I was still dreaming. But when I screwed my eyes shut and then opened them, I was in the same place as before.
“Maddison.” I was imagining it, that’s for sure. Or was I? Was my ‘dream’ real? Had someone really been in my room last night? And was that same person following me around now? I searched frantically around, in search for any sign of human life in the neighbouring metres. I even looked in the branches of the tree above me, but there was nothing but a small bird perched on a high branch.
Freaky! I thought to myself as I turned back to the school, leaning my back against the thick, bark trunk of the tree.
