Metamorphosis Chapter 11

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Ominous clouds move overhead at alarming speeds. Mark and I must keep moving regardless of this impending storm. North, the direction we are heading, is where Lydia told me I would find him. Who is he? What does he want with us? These questions were much more frightening than this electrical storm that moved in upon us. 

This Magistrate has this vendetta against us and perhaps we fill find out why. It’s always important I know why someone doesn’t like me. I guess you can call that my greatest character flaw. Who cares what people think? I do.

We had been walking for many hours and I notice Mark speaking to himself and cursing under his breath. He’s probably exhausted, because I feel like complete shit. You would think the landscape would change as we venture north. As far as my eyes can see — miles and miles of flatlands, that’s it. No rivers, no lakes, no trees, no people, no animals, no insects, nothing. There is grass and plenty of it. For a while, I had thought the Magistrate had lowered his defenses to allow us to cross these lands. Well, that was until this storm rolled in.

“What are you thinking?” I look at Mark. He hasn’t said a word in hours. I was hoping to he’d share his feelings with me. I’m not sure we share the same thoughts any longer. 

“Are you talking to me?” He replies, his head pointing to the ground. He doesn’t look at me. I can tell he is avoiding any confrontation. I just want to  assure him I’m on his side. Well, our side. We should be unified. Especially now.

“Mark, are you serious?” I hiss as I shake my head. How could it have gotten to this? How did we allow this Magistrate to tear us apart?

“I don’t know, Raquel. I don’t feel like talking. I’m so tired. It gonna rain soon and we don’t have a clue where we’re going. Your best friend, that sick old woman, is leading us into a trap.”

“I won’t believe that. I can’t believe that. What do you have against Lydia?”

“Oh now we’ve named her. I prefer to call her ‘the old hag’ if you don’t mind,” he retorts in a malicious tone.

“Mark, she told us the truth. You’re just gonna have to trust me. We can work together and get out of this and find a way to coexist. Ya know?”

“Do you really want that? Do you really want to coexist with the person you fought so hard to erase? You despised me. Every time you looked in your precious mirror, you never liked what you saw. Guess what, girl, it was me.”

“I only wanted the mirror to tell me what I already knew. That I was a woman. And you are a woman. We’ve always wanted this. Don’t you remember?”

“I can’t remember shit except for losing friends! Family! Being abused as the target of jokes. I don’t want that anymore, Raquel. I just wanna get out of here and sleep. I can’t think straight.

“Well, then think gay!” I say with a smile on my face. I glance over at Mark praying he’d chuckle, smile, or display any kind of emotion. He doesn’t. Well, I thought it was cute.

Mark shakes his head and looks over at me, “You’re not cute. You know what I meant.”

“What’s that,” I point towards the north. A structure in the distance seems completely out of place. Perhaps it’s a house?

“It looks like a house,” Mark confirms.

As we draw near it’s obvious, this is no ordinary house. The black decorative storm shutters by each of the eight double hung windows in the front. Six old world style pillars holding up the cover for a traditional country porch and that same god awful beige porch swing. 

A plain house painted in white, with black trim. How befitting of the owner’s thought processes. It was always black and white for my parents. I was the only bright thing in that house, I just didn’t know it yet. I feel like a frightened child as we approach. Mark seems less concerned with this development. His pace quickens, and he rushes to the front door.

“Mark, what the hell are you doing? You know where we are, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t care anymore about what happened here. Perhaps the answers are inside. Haven’t you thought about that?” He thoughtlessly clutches the front door knob. He doesn’t even care how it may effect me. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? We were tortured here, Mark. What is wrong with you? Do not open that door!” I shriek. The resemblance between Mark and I fade as fast as invisible ink on paper. Perhaps what we discover beyond this door will prove my point. I consider opening the door myself, but fear wins over.

“You were tortured here, Raquel. It was you. I am a different Mark. I feel like everything I wanted was because of you. Now, that you are out of my system, so to speak, perhaps I can move on and finally get closure here. No offense.”

His words were callous and hurtful. I stand vigilant and proud of the person I have become. I nodded to him as if to approve that he opens that door. He looks back making sure I am ready. He is excited to find out what awaits us and it sickens me. 

“Are you sure?” he says. There is not a hint of concern in his voice.

“Go ahead, Mark. Open the door. I know it’s what you want. Let’s see where this leads us.” My voice trembles. It’s filled with fear and anger and hatred and malice and…

He turns the knob and nudges the door open.

To be continued. . . . 

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