• Heavy blood-
    Chapter 1

    “Sweetie, talk to me… How did this happen? We were so happy…” Barbara said. Her voice was full of remorse. She put her hand on the Plexiglas window separating us. Her other hand was on the receiver phone that connected us. I glared at her. I’m almost ashamed to have to call her ‘mom.’

    “Happy? That’s a lot of bullshit…” I rolled my eyes. For almost four years now I’ve been miserable. My eyes shot back to her. It’s obvious that she only thought about her self. Maybe she was happy with ignoring the fact that the first year after Dad died I was calling out for help. Not that she would have known that, she was too busy working.

    “Watch your mouth,” Her face bunched up like it always does when she’s angry. She looks like a shriveled up old prune. When she made that idiotic face it was easy to see all the wrinkles she’s been trying so desperately to hide. Every night she spends around 30 minutes applying skin creams and thinking out loud about getting surgery. Honestly I think she should just grow old like everyone else. There was a soft cough coming from next to me. I looked over to where the security guard stood. He reminded me of a stereotypical police officer. He had a pot belly and a thick black mustache. I had to blink a few times. It was extremely bright in this room and I had a major headache. Ever since I got to this crappy jail I haven’t been able to score any acid or anything for that matter. I’d probably kill for a cig if it weren’t for all those damn cops. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing feeling in my upper temple. After a few seconds I lifted my left hand to rub my forehead. If an inmate doesn’t kill me, the withdrawal symptoms will.

    “Are you alright sweetie?” Barbara asked she looked like she probably would have tried to hug me if there wasn’t a barrier holding her back. I guess it isn’t such a bad place after all.

    “Stop calling me that. I hate it.” I grabbed at my head harder. This woman had a voice that could be heard from miles away. Barbara sat back in the grey plastic chair. She ran her hand through her short unnaturally red hair. She looked much older then she used to. I guess the stress from having a child in jail does that to people.

    “I can’t figure you out Taylor. I’ve tried. I swear I’ve tried. Please help me out here; I really want to know how you ended up in such a horrible place.” She shuddered. She leaned forward, her mouth was slightly agape.

    “Are you giving up Barbara?” I asked, a smirk pulling on my lips. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was.

    “No. Not now, not ever. Taylor what do I have to do to get you to believe me when I say I love you?”

    “Nothing,” I said smugly, “because in reality you don’t care. I mean come on. If I really mean that much to you why am I here? Could it be because of the way I was raised? Or better yet, the lack of being raised.” A triumphant grin pulling on my features; I could see I struck a nerve in my mother. It looked like she was about to raise an objection and yell at me the way she normally does. But she just snapped her mouth shut and looked at the floor.

    “The police are willing to make a deal with you. You tell them the names of the other members, or where they all meet and you can get off with just probation!” I could tell it was hard for her to say that so calmly.

    “No! Believe it or not Barbara,” I spit out her name, “Those so called ‘vermin’ are my friends. In fact they’re more then friends to me. They’re family; the family I knew was out there waiting for me.”

    “They are not your family! I am your family. They don’t care about you the way I do. Do you see them- any of them- here trying to help you? Family doesn’t get you arrested!” Her face bunched up again and turned a tomato red, her palms were curled into tight fists and you could easily spot a vein popping out of her forehead. We merely stared at each other. What does she know about this? She found out about some of the tests I had to do but those were only to prove my trust and worthiness to the clan. The guard’s watch beeped. I looked over to the clock just above the door; it had a steel cage over it. Like just incase someone throws something at it –like a chair maybe- and it wont shatter the glass. Even the clock is in jail. The clock read 11:00, the detective Barbara called would be here soon, or at least that’s what the guard said.

    “So detective what’s-his-face is coming,” I was still staring at the clock. The seconds have been ticking away so slowly lately. I’ve only been here for a couple of hours and already I feel like I’m wasting away. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, it didn’t look any better then the one Barbara was sitting in. She wasn’t looking at me though; she was looking out to where the entrance is. She’s probably anxious to meet this detective guy. Even though I’ve never met him I already know I hate him. And with that thought in mind I’ve decided to say nothing at all to him. I figure I’d tell a few lies to him if his persistence bothers me too much. But either way he’s not getting any useful information. My mom called him because she thinks I’ll break. But this isn’t her little fantasy world where she can make people do anything she wants. But tough for her she can’t get me to spill my guts. In my opinion cops are just like criminals. I mean those deals are nothing more then bribes. Cops are always striking deals with criminals offering up bribes of freedom if they rat out information. That’s pretty sick and twisted if you ask me.

    “He’ll be here any minute,” Barbara seemed nervous; she probably hated the fact that one of her daughters isn’t a perfect pageant winner like she was. I slouched further into my chair.

    “I’m not telling him anything.” It’s common knowledge that the clan’s secrecy and safety comes first. Besides I’ve been warned that once I got started there’s no going back. I’ve also heard some stories from the Elders about a few people who betrayed the clan. The police of course tried to put the weasels into hiding but there’s even more clan activity then anyone on the outside world would believe. There’s one story I remember particularly well. I think the former member’s name was Scrooch. No body knows his real name. But then again nobody knows anyone’s real name. It’s one of the main rules in the clan- almost like a policy- just incase someone tries to betray us. As the story goes he had a wife, a son and a daughter. The police had moved them several times, and changed their identities. At the time being, the police believed they were safe after years of changes. And at first they were safe. Nobody knew them in the new town and they took to their new identities quite easily. But their safety didn’t last long; a neighboring clan member spotted them and a message was sent out. Naturally the penalty of betrayal is death. That’s exactly what they got – him and his whole family. Scrooch apparently was bound and gagged and forced to watch his family killed in front of his very own eyes. Then he was killed. I guess you could call clans a mafia or something like that. But he deserved it.
    Barbara didn’t respond. She either was ignoring me or was to busy to have heard it. I grunted slightly, my a** was killing me.

    “You will tell him. He’s a detective- a respectable figure.” I guess she did hear me after all. I waited for one of her famous pageant speeches about how she was a rowdy teenager and the she became disciplined and learned all that stuff from those stupid pageants. And lo and behold look at her now! She’s perfect. She’s always talking about how she was beautifully stunning when she was wearing those stupid prom dresses or those stupid little bikinis. That type of crude always made me want to puke. I’ve been forced to sit here for nearly two hours listening to not only about how those pageants made her who she is today but also to my mom talk about how proud she is of Jessica; my ‘godly’ sister. I wasn’t paying much attention to her when she was talking about it earlier but from the selective things I did hear Jessica was chosen to be captain of the cheerleading squad. Whoop-de-freakin’-doo.
    But that conversation never came up. That’s odd; normally she pounces on every chance she gets to talk about ye olden days.

    “You know Jessica’s been asking about you,” Barbara laughs slightly as she says it. I tilt my head to the left and shook it.

    “You haven’t told her I was arrested yet?” I couldn’t help but feel annoyed. What kind of mother leaves out that kind of detail? I glared at her. She was seriously pissing me off.

    “I didn’t want to upset her.” She spoke quietly but firmly. Once again she was only worried about her reputation. In our neighbor hood, everyone knows her. She throws all kinds of social events that every one wants to get into. I swear it’s like the red carpet event in Hollywood. Whenever there’s one of her parties it’s always the Hot Topic of conversations. I wanted to puke. I wasn’t sure if it was because of her or those nasty burritos I had for lunch in the jail cafeteria. Which brings me back to the whole ‘if an inmate doesn’t kill me first’ thing.

    “And you think that lying to her about where I am is any better?” I shouted into the phone. Sometimes I had a problem controlling my temper.
    “Taylor, please keep your voice down!” Her eyes were wide. I was about to shout something back at her when I heard the door down the hall open and footsteps heading this way. I looked away and scowled at the wall. Just then a man walked in, standing just behind my mother. Just the sight of him made my blood broil. I had an unbelievable urge to just hit something- and hit it hard.

    “Mrs. Scotts?” The man said he had a deep husky voice. My mother turned around and put on a huge smile. She reached out her hand; he took it and the shook.

    “Yes, and this is my daughter Taylor.” She gestured towards me. A nervous smile was present on her face. I acknowledged him with a “yo” and one stiff head nod. He nodded once in my direction as well. He took a step back and grabbed a chair to pull up besides my mother. He placed his briefcase on the floor near his foot. I finally looked at him. He was tall even though he was sitting- maybe six feet. He had black eyes that were embedded deep into his head. He looked tired with lots of bags under his eyes. He had some whiskers sprouting from his chin. I also noted some frown lines on his forehead. He didn’t look old-not that old anyways- maybe in his 40’s. He had black hair, it was combed up neatly. He didn’t have one of those army haircuts where his hair was cut way short. It was slightly long but not past his ears. I almost laughed at myself for getting all caught up about his stupid hair. The prissy probably uses some designer shampoo… and conditioner, I added on as an after thought. He put his hand out silently asking for the phone. My mother quickly obliged. He took the phone and leaned in. I noticed that he had several scars along his jaw and up the side of his nose.

    “Taylor, I’m Detective Bock,” He said. I smacked my lips together with a popping sound and shrugged. I looked away from him and sighed. He waited. I guess he wanted me to say something.

    “How many people have you killed?” I heard my mother shriek my name. Bock just looked at me.

    “Does it matter?” He asked his frown lines were really sticking out now.

    “I was just wondering if I could take you in a fight.” I saw his lips tremble slightly. He was probably fighting a smile, but his eyes were emotionless. I pulled on my orange jump suit. It was a really hideous color.

    Time was ticking by and he just stared. After a while I started to get a little uncomfortable. The ticking just seemed to get louder. My stomach started to tighten and I could feel the butterflies forming. The walls were starting to close in around me; trapping me in this room with this man and for some reason I started to panic. My breathing increased and the room started to get a little distorted. The room started spinning but Bock’s face remained untouched. A wave of fear washed through me. Suddenly there was laughing, not happy laughing like after you hear a funny joke but eerie laughing that sent chills throughout my body. I gasped; I’ve heard these voices before. Over the laughing there was a deep voice speaking. He called himself Marcus and claimed to be the devil. Marcus and I have talked before when I was still at home and before I joined the cult. He used to tell me things my parents didn’t want me to know. My head began to ache even worse than before, Marcus laughed and told me it was Bock’s fault for this. Everything is his fault; being in jail, having the parents that I am stuck with, this headache, and for being born.

    ‘Be angry at him; hate him with every last nerve in your body. Despise him. Make him pay for all the wrongs he committed to you!’ Marcus screamed in my head. I clasped my hands over my ears; his yelling made the pain even worse.

    “I can’t.” I sobbed; I just wanted him to stop, to tell the other voices to go away. Marcus hissed. He appeared next to Bock. He was glaring at me and I could feel the tears welding up in my eyes again. “I can’t.” I repeated I clutched my stomach wishing the pain would stop. There was too much of it for me to handle.

    “You dare to go against me?” He snarled at me, I flinched against the harshness of his words and felt the tears over flowing. He was besides me in an instant. He raised his hand and quickly slapped me. I cried out.

    “Please stop and go away!” I shouted through sobs. My hands were protecting my head again. The tears were like a water faucet turned on; they were flowing freely now. I had fallen off my chair but I hadn’t really noticed.

    I heard another bunch of faint voices but I couldn’t really hear what they were saying, my heart’s pounding was too loud... and that damn ticking. I looked over to my mother. She looked worried- almost panic stricken. Bock was gone from beside her. I felt two pairs of hands on my shoulder. I screamed.

    “He’s back! Somebody help me!” I screamed, Marcus came back and he was going to hurt me; make me pay for disrespecting him. I struggled against the hands but they were stronger then I was. I kept the shouts of help going even though nothing seemed to come from them. My mother didn’t move. He eyes were glued to me yet she made no move to come save me from this pain. New tears began to stream down my face, the move I cried the less I could breathe it seemed. The hushed voices were rushed; I could hear the urgency in them. Marcus must scare them as well. I stopped struggling and let the feelings take over me. I gasped for air and sniffed up some mucus that was trailing from my nose. I stared at my mother who just stood there. Hurt, pain, and emptiness were the most dominating feelings. I felt a sharp sting just above my elbow. I didn’t flinch though. The image of my mother was the only thing on my mind. The tears stopped and I could feel the previous emotions fade. A new set of emotion took over; hate, disgust and anger. My eyebrows furrowed as I stared at my mother. No, I thought, it isn’t Bock’s fault. It’s hers. And with that I slowly felt my self drift away.