Chapter Seven

I wasn’t sure what to do now. The diary has said enough. I assumed that was why I was in here. But how has she got me into here? She must be a secret sorcerer or something. I went to go look for Sara. Maybe watching her every move would bring me to my answer.

I heard her walking up the stairs so I shoved the diary back into the drawer. Sara trudged into the room. I ducked behind her and followed her to a door that led to--the bathroom?

I stopped before I went in to see anything I didn’t want to.

I opened my eyes to pure darkness. I turned on the light of my watch and checked the time. “5:30,” it said. Sara was still sleeping. I decided to take a look around her room for anything else that could help me. I turned the watch light back on. This was going to be barely enough light to see in. As if the bubble knew the problem, a silver flashlight appeared on the floor in front of me. I turned off the watch’s light and bent over to pick up the flashlight and turned it on.

I crept around the room and stopped at the bookcase. In it held pictures of Sara and I as little kids at parties, parks and the pool. There were also pictures of the awesome sleepover we had in grade 2, the science fair project in grade 3, and the pumpkin decorating contest in grade 4. So many pictures. Then there were the books that I had given her/what she borrowed but never gave back. I didn’t bother taking any back, because I thought she kept them because they reminded her of me. However I picked one up and opened it. Out fell some pieces of paper. I crouched down and picked one up. It said:

Sia, we need to talk.

I shook my head. I remember that note. She sent me that one about a week ago. I had just dropped it on the ground and turned away. I picked up more and they all had the same kind of thing written on it. All the notes I had ignored. All the notes that put me in this bubble, right here in my hands.

After I had wandered around a little bit Sara woke up and got ready for school. When she finally went out the door, I followed her out.

At school, I watched Sara do her work, and I noticed she couldn’t concentrate. She had a picture of me in her hand (yeah, not CREEPY at all!).

At recess I watched her sit on the bench all alone. I sat down beside her and watched her fiddle around with her fidget spinner. Then I realized that that was MY fidget spinner! I lost it a month ago. She must’ve stolen it to remind her of me. I sighed deeply and stood up.

At Sara’s house I found a book about depression. It said that it affects the way people act, and they would always be looking down and upset.

Sometimes it’s so severe that it ends in suicide

I slammed the book shut and shivered. I stood standing there for a few seconds. I wasn’t leaving the bubble. I felt sorry for Sara. Was I not sorry enough? “I’m sorry! I'M SORRY!” I yelled, hoping the bubble would pop, but it wouldn’t. I rolled down the stairs. Maybe if I said it to Sara’s face it would work. She was sitting in her living room on her phone. I looked over her shoulder to see what she was watching. It was actually a picture… of me. I sighed sadly as I watched her on my Instagram account. She liked all of my photos over and over. She clicked onto my Direct Message and I saw all of the messages she’d sent me.

Rosy_Sara: Come back Sia!

Rosy_Sara: Where are you?!

Rosy_Sara: I miss you Sia.

Rosy_Sara: I miss you.

Rosy_Sara: I miss you.

The rest of the messages were “I miss you”. I tried to cry but I felt drained of tears. I looked at her in the eyes. She had beautiful blue eyes. But they were so sad. They were too sad to be beautiful. How could I have been so ignorant and mean? I looked at her phone again. A picture of her and I. It was summer of 2015.

We were going into grade 5. She had her hair in a ponytail and her arm was around my shoulder. I looked at her in the photo. We both smiled happily. But now we both frowned sadly. Suddenly Sara’s face turned red and she looked angry. Angrier than I had ever seen her. She stood up and stomped to the kitchen.

“Mom! Take me to 578 Homer Avenue!” she yelled.

Her mom was so shocked that she grabbed the car keys and ran to the door. I knew that address. It was Leila’s house.

My eyes shot open. I needed my dad’s help! I ran out the door and went through the maze of streets. His house appeared on the corner. It was cleaner than I had seen it last. The blue paint was restored and shiny.

I marched up the steps and through the door.

I covered my mouth in shock. My eyes filled with hot tears like a pool.

“No no no no no no no!” I yelled. I ran over to my dad, his body on the floor. The house was clean. No cans of pop and no crunching chip bags. Just him on the wooden floors with a knife to his chest. His hand rested on top of the knife, slowly pushing it in further. He was dead. I bent over and sat next to him. I couldn’t believe what I saw.

“MOM!” I yelled. I cried in shame. I felt guilty. I opened my eyes and saw a small piece of paper on his stomach. My hand slowly moved to it as it trembled. I picked it up and read what it said.

I’m Sorry for what I did to you Sierra.

~Daddy

I shrieked. I shrieked until I had no more voice in myself. I wouldn’t be able to get out. I was trapped in here forever. Without my dad I couldn’t leave the bubble. I rolled away from my dad, waiting for the police to come. My eyes were so red that they probably looked more like wet tomatoes than like eyes. I sulked down the street.

“Why can’t I just die?” I whispered. My body went hot. Maybe I could still save myself. I had to save Leila because the look on Sara’s face was not one that I liked. I ran to her address. I wouldn’t let my legs wear out. Eventually they did. I woke up in front of Leila’s house. It wasn’t the end of the day yet so I could still save them. Sara had already made it there. I ran up the stairs, scraping my knees against the edges. I dragged myself through the door. I heard yelling upstairs. I made my way to Leila’s room. Leila was sitting on the bed while Sara stood in front of her and screamed angrily. I’ve never seen her like that before.

“IT’S YOUR FAULT THAT I COULDN’T SAVE HER!” yelled Sara. Leila blinked, very confused.

“It’s not my fault she didn’t like you!” Leila said as she flipped her beautiful red hair behind her shoulder.

“SHE LOVED ME UNTIL YOU CAME!” Sara cried. I knew she knew she was wrong.

“Why did you come to my house to talk about this? What a drama queen.” Leila sighed.

Before I could say a word Sara lunged herself at Leila, clawing at her face.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I heard.

Leila screamed in horror as her face got ripped apart by the angry banshee. Sara pulled her arm back and slammed her fist into Leila’s face. I gasped. She fainted, or at least I hope she fainted. I ran over to Sara.

“You can’t just do that to someone! I’m right here you dumbo!!!” I yelled.

Sara stared blankly through the ball. Her face was blue with rage. Her fist was covered in blood. Leila lay on the bed unconscious as the blood from her nose ran down her cheek and onto the bed.

“Oh my god,” Sara said. Her pretty skin went back to normal and her eyes went soft. She looked down at her hand and up at Leila. Her eyes widened. She ran to the window and unlatched it. She jumped straight out. She was going to run away!

I spent hours following Sara through the woods. Eventually she came to a stop in a spot full of trees. She lit a match and threw it on a pile of wood. She mumbled slowly to herself.

“I have to go back” she whispered. She shook her head and looked back down at the fire. Her eyes lit up and she looked like a snake. Her brows furrowed as she sat in silence.

“I’m in here… can anybody see me?” Sara sang my favourite song. I smiled and sang along. We were a perfect harmony.

After a while Sara figured out that if she didn’t go back and she was found she would face years in juvie. When she got back to Leila’s house the police were in the driveway. Her mom ran up to her and grabbed her in a hug.

“I thought you were gone!” she cried.

Sara nodded. The police ran up to them and broke their hug.

“You are under arrest for attempted murder,” the officer said.

Sara frowned and stared at the Paramedic’s truck. Leila lay on the stretcher, her face ruined with nail marks. Her nose looked punched in but also looked a lot bigger at the same time. She looked paralyzed, probably in shock.

The officer turned Sara around and cuffed her. Sara smiled.

“Who’s a goodie-two-shoes now Leila?!” she yelled to the truck. She had gone crazy.

“I’m going to jail and you’re not so I’m the bad one now!” she grinned. She looked like the mad hatter. I hadn’t really noticed that she looked like a crazy person until now. Her hair was frizzy and it stood up on top of her head. Her eyes were lighter and snakier. Angrier. She looked skinnier too. Had she gone anorexic? I wouldn’t be surprised if she did after all of the hate she got on her appearance. I always thought Sara was beautiful. A memory flashed before my eyes.

“You’re so ugly and fat! Stop eating so much chocolate!” I laughed. That had happened this year. I caused this. All of this.

The officer threw Sara into the cop car and Sara smiled.

“We’re taking this to court” he told another officer that had a clipboard in his hand. The officer with the clipboard slid into the front seat. The car glided away. Sara’s face was like a permanent scar in my brain. I would never forget it. I inched towards the paramedic’s truck to see the damage. Leila lay with her eyes closed. She had hundreds of scratches on her face along with blood stains on her shirt and on her lips. But there was more. I hadn’t noticed this part. A huge hunk of her skin had gotten ripped off. If it was a few more millimeters deeper I would’ve seen her skull. Sara really was a maniac. I felt so bad for Leila and Sara too. Kelli came rushing down the street.

“Leila!” she yelled as she ran up the driveway. Kelli looked upset. This was all caused because of me.