Life Starts With Murder

         So this is what I’m going to be doing on this Thursday night? Vera thought bitterly as she scrubbed at yet another dish. Stephan never has to do the frickin’ dishes! I bet he wouldn’t be so high and mighty if he had to get his hands clean. She groaned as her father Jeff dumped more cups into the sink.
         “Missed these, V.” He tapped his daughter’s earphones to clarify that he was talking and he knew she was tuning him out. “What are you listening to?”
         “Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit,” she replied, dumping the already-dirty water. “You should listen to it sometime.” Clean water from the tap ran into the washing bin.
         “Okay.” And he walked away, sighing.
         I hate that sigh. The she’s-such-a-disappointment-why-can’t-she-be-another-son? Sigh. Vera scrubbed and scraped the dishes clean until her fingers felt like they would break at the knuckles. Then she scrubbed the stove top and table, swept the floor, and emptied the kitty litter box. She left the trash for her brother. That’s his job. She told herself with a hollow grudge. But the garbage was literally overflowing; a slice of pizza from two weeks ago slapped her foot. “Ugh.” And she took the trash out as well.
         She locked the back door and poured herself a glass of Berry Burst juice and headed to the living room. Jeff was swatting at the “little shit” of a kitten that Vera claimed for sniffing at his soda. “Come here, Parrot,” she cooed. Parrot ran and climbed his way to her shoulder. He rubbed his face against her cheek, purring like a mini fridge.
         “That cat needs discipline, Vera,” Jeff told his daughter distractedly.
         “I know.” She pocketed her phone from the table. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” And she walked up the stairs before her father could make a request. Stephan stared intently at the computer. They finally had internet again and he was six catch-up hours in to Runescape.
         Vera took out her phone and commenced to texting her boyfriend of a year. Even now just seeing his name on her phone made her smile. Jude was the first boyfriend she had ever had that didn’t focus on impressing her brother and dad, and then feeling her up in the back of their car.
         “I’m going out with you, Vera, not your family,” he always said. He didn’t know how much that meant to her.
         Parrot was playing in her clothes basket, such a strange kitten, so Vera decided she should journal before Parrot decided he wanted some Play Time with her. She selected her favorite maroon fine-tip Sharpie and started to write in her pink journal—she hated pink, but no one listened.

         What is wrong with me? It’s like my happiness has been sucked out and put into someone else’s life. I’m a stranger in my own house for crying out loud! I mean, Dad and I use to talk, but now… now I’m not even sure if he knows my middle name. It’s obvious he picked Stephan over me. Everyone does. Well, not Jude, but then again Jude is just perfect.
         He wants to come over Saturday. We’ll probably end up walking down the road with some soda and candy and walk along the creek for a while as well. He knows how much I hate being here. And I know how much he hates being at his house. So we escape together. We started a bank account together the other day. Did I tell you? Soon we’ll have enough money to get our own place and leave our small towns! Finally!!!
         One year of school left! Then I’m out of here regardless. Dad’ll probably kick me out anyway, right? I mean, we used to be close, but that was a long time ago… when I was like 16. (I’m 17 now, remember?)
         Well, I have to close now. I’ll write more tomorrow, okay? Bye!

         Vera sighed and plugged her iPod into her ears. Falling Into the Black by Skillet played while she texted Jude, smiling between the tears.
         He didn’t know. No one knew. Then again, if they did know, she would be sent off like she was the first time.
         “brb” she texted suddenly and waited for the “okay” before silencing her phone.
         In the fifth grade, her class made family trees. Recently she had broken hers. Slowly and quietly so as to not draw attention to the broken glass that she had stored under her bookshelf. She pulled out a shard then, letting it catch the light. She shouldn’t. She knew that. Vera knew all too well that she was dancing with danger, even Death, but she didn’t care. Without thinking, almost on reflex, she sliced her arm. It was a shallow cut; the glass wasn’t that sharp. She sliced again and again until she was almost hacking at her arm. When enough blood had pooled in her hand, she stopped and let the pain flood her brain.
         IDIOT! Her brain screamed at her. But this little voice was singing with each throbbing second.
         She glanced at her clock. Vera had been cutting for over 20 minutes! “Shit.” She grabbed some tissues and cleaned herself up, wrapping the gashes and hiding them under a long-sleeved night shirt.
         Checking her phone she found out that Jude had texted her five times, becoming increasingly worried. ‘Sorry. I took longer than I thought.’
         ‘What did you do?’
         ‘Bathroom’
         ‘Oh okay’
         ‘So what’s up?’
         And just like that, it was like nothing had happened. And maybe nothing had. Maybe in the morning, when Parrot woke her, Vera would find herself unscarred and happy. Vera scoffed at the half-formed thought. “Yeah right,” she muttered.
         A while later, Vera called Jude, they said their “I love you”’s and “good night”s. For a long moment, Vera felt bad for betraying Jude the way she had. But he shouldn’t have to worry about her. So she fell into a fitful sleep with Parrot on her shoulder purring.
         

<***>

         Vera woke up still very much scarred, but there was still a slim hope that she could grasp a happiness other than the ecstasy Jude gave her. A slim hope. She slipped out of the room while Parrot slept on her pillow. Jeff had to have his morning coffee, so she made another pot for him and booted up the computer for Stephan; she had her own laptop. Then she poured herself some more juice and started to watch a morning showing of Spongebob. Yes, Spongebob. So what? She could indulge in this childish pleasure if she felt like it.
         Like every morning, though, she dreaded for the rest of her family to wake up. But they would eventually. Her dad would find something to nag about until he had his morning piss and coffee. Stephan would trudge down the stairs, glued to his cellular device texting multiple girls, without so much as a nod of recognition. And so would Vera’s day start.
         This morning, Vera’s dad decided to scold her for her job. “So what are you blowing the money on?”
         “Well, I bought some new Sharpies the other day.”
         “What’s wrong with the pens I bought you for school?” He shuffled into the kitchen in search of a mug.
         Already, the morning was going south. “Nothing, Dad, I use Sharpies to journal. They’re easy to write with.”
         “How’s school going anyway?”
         “Pretty well. Passing my classes.”          He nodded, coffee filling his cup. “You know, Stephan is doing pretty damn good, too. A lot better than last year, right?” It wasn’t clear to whom he was addressing, so Vera took a long drink from her glass.
         Her phone did the Mario jingle, Jude had texted her. ‘Good morning, Beautiful.’
         A smile pulled at her lips. ‘Good morning, Handsome.’
         “That Jude?” Her father asked, taking the remote.
         “Who else would I be texting at seven in the morning?” she retorted sarcastically.
         “God, I’m just asking.”
         “Yes, Dad, it’s Jude.” But he had stopped paying attention when sports had filled the TV screen.
         “Stephan, check that out!” he shouted at his son. Stephan glanced at the TV.
         Some baseball player had made a huge mistake—Vera was guessing—and Stephan and Jeff were laughing wildly at it. Vera sighed and settled into her silent conversation with her boyfriend.  Soon they would have a life together.
         Vera cleared her throat a while later when her dad seemed less irritated. “I was wondering, dad, if I could pick Jude up Saturday.”
         “Sure. Just don’t be all day. I know how you two are.”
         No, you don’t. She thought, but said, “We’ll come straight back. Like always.”
         “Yeah, all right. Is he paying for gas?”
         “Yeah.”
         “Good.”          
         Vera merely nodded. Him know her? Get real. He didn’t know the first thing about her. Jude knew her. And she would be with Jude, they had a happy future in store for them. She just knew it.
         “You wanna cook breakfast, V?”
         “What?” It was more of an I-didn’t-hear-you what. But Jeff took it as an are-you-crazy?-I-don’t-want-to-do-anything-you ask what, which would have been true had she heard him.
         “Never mind.” He grunted, getting more coffee. “I’ll make the shit myself. What to you want, Stephan?”
         “I don’t care. Whatever.” He didn’t bother to look away from his game or phone. “Whatever V wants I guess.”
         Jeff turned to his daughter. “What do you want? And don’t be a smart-ass with ‘food’.”
         “Bacon.”
         “We don’t have bacon.”
         “Of course not,” Vera muttered. “Fine, what about hash browns and sausage?” She knew they liked that, so it was a safe call.
         He disappeared into the kitchen. For a moment Vera could fantasize about not having to do anything and just relax. Then her dad opened his mouth. “Wanna make toast?”
         It was directed at her. One, Stephan would never be asked to cook. Two, Vera loved toast. Vera put her boyfriend on hold once more and trudged into the kitchen to help with breakfast. To his credit, Jeff tried to talk to his daughter.
         “So how are you and your boyfriend?”
         “We’re good. Might go to the movies after a walk.”
         “Cool.”
         “Yeah.” Vera got out the bread from the pantry. She plugged in the toaster and got out the jam. Blackberry this time she had decided. “How’s the online dating going?”
         Her dad shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m only looking for someone to talk to. I’m not bringing another woman into this house, Vera.”
         “I know.” He didn’t have to give this speech again, but he did. And like always, Vera concentrated on something else while he blabbed. When he was done, as was the toast, Vera asked, “Do you want butter or jam?”
         “What kind of jam do you have?” Like he cared.
         “Blackberry.”
         “I’ll take butter.”
         Vera nodded. She was the toast-lover in the family so she didn’t expect the others to expand their tastes in toast. She buttered two pieces of toast. Stephan wanted his buttered as well since Jeff was butter. Vera slathered on more jam than was necessary. She took two slices of sausage and went to the living room. She texted Jude while eating. He rarely ate breakfast. Most likely because he stayed up late and ate a snack around three a.m. or so.
         School was out for a holiday. Thanksgiving, Vera guessed since it was November. She didn’t keep track of holidays anymore. Birthdays were the only thing she (forcibly) kept up with.
         The day passed as normal. Around ten Stephan and Jeff left to go fishing for “an hour.” Vera didn’t expect them back until around—roughly—two. Did she want to tag along? No, thanks. She didn’t want to be stuck in the car for five hours reading and trying to get a good enough signal to text Jude. Besides, today was one of her days off. Did she need anything from the store? No, couldn’t think of anything she’d need. Well, bye then. And they left.
         With the house empty and a full battery, Vera set out for a stroll. The air was crisp in her lungs, it felt good to be outside. Her favorite multi-color scarf around her neck and a dull grey sweater.
         With a pop of her neck and rolling of shoulders, Vera ceased to be in control. Her other half, by the name of Martyr, gained access to the bodily vessel. “Well, then, let’s go for a jog.” She had no problem telling Jude that she wouldn’t be available for an hour or so. Jude, blessedly, was used to Martyr taking over. They would never be friends, though, because frankly, Martyr was a real bitch.
         And so Vera drifted to the back of her mind, nestling soundly as Martyr trailed on with hot puffs of breath.

<***>

         “You want her?” asked a man, seemingly to no one.
         “Yes,” came the reply.
         “Very well.” A wind rustled the dead leaves and the disembodied voice vanished.
         This target had nothing to gain, but something important—to her—to lose. Oh, well. She should know best of all that life was hard on the least-deserving. The man stayed a while longer observing the child. What did his Master see in her? He wondered, though it was not his place to question. “What is inside of you, Vera Meadows?” He mused. Without another thought to the girl, he was gone as well.
         It was work for another day of course.