The Girls of Manchester Pt. 01

Finally, she stepped through the door just as Elizabeth was closing in and Jessica dashed as quickly as she could in the direction of her house a few blocks away. The bus rushed by and she could see every face glued to the windows, a few heads hanging out hoping to see her pummeled into the pavement. Of course, everyone knew what had happened. How word had spread around the school in enough time for Elizabeth to get on before her was something Jessica couldn't fathom. Still, there were more important things to worry about the moment- like living.

Jessica was sprinting at her full speed and already she could hear the sounds of feet growing steadily louder behind her, closing the distance. Jessica was sobbing openly out of sheer fright, tears falling steadily down her cheeks as she tried to put as much distance between herself and her pursuers as possible. She knew it was a matter of time, she could hear them, their effortless strides, their light and easy breaths even at full sprint a direct contrast to her hard, labored breathing. Her lungs ached like nothing she had ever felt before. She could not draw enough air to keep going.

Her efforts didn't matter, as she had already anticipated. A clubbing blow landed across her back, sending Jessica falling hard onto the concrete sidewalk. Jessica yelped in pain as her wrist twisted hard when she tried to brace herself against the fall. She tried to pick herself back up before she felt hard, heavy blows against her back and stomach. Each blow knocking even more precious air out of her lungs before she could have a chance to regain her composure after her futile flight. Jessica felt herself being lifted up by the arms to a kneeling position.

Jessica felt something warm and fluid falling quickly down her forehead, she felt an insatiable urge to wipe it off. Her arms, however, were being held by Elizabeth's team mates. Elizabeth walked slowly around Jessica like a Wolf stalking its prey. With an agility she never expected from Elizabeth, she suddenly found her face being cupped in the palm of Elizabeth's hand. She was being forced to look into the fiery eyes, the enraged demeanor of Elizabeth Greene. She could not turn her head, Elizabeth's strength too much even for her to overcome. She could see murder in Elizabeth's eyes before the world started misting beyond the tears which fell from her eyelids to stain her cheeks.

"You just don't seem to get the message, Jessica." Elizabeth said, her voice a growl. "You just keep going back to your old ways, trying to give Amanda shit. You just keep doing those things which guarantee that somehow, somewhere I will catch you. Either you are the bravest person I know, or you are the stupidest person I know."

"P-p-please, don't!" Jessica pleaded.

"You're begging now? How about when Amanda begged for you not to break her mirror, did you leave her be?" Elizabeth asked, her voice rising with the anger that Jessica could see manifest itself in the trembling that shook the girl's body.

"I'm sorry!" Jessica shouted.

"No," Elizabeth said, leering," but you are about to be."

Elizabeth's hand dropped from her face and made contact with her gut, forcing Jessica to expel every ounce of air that had been in her lungs. Jessica coughed and gagged as she tried desperately to draw more air. However, with each breath, another blow landed driving it right back out before it could do her body any good. It did not take long for her to start feeling a strange, tingling sensation spread throughout her body. Her head was also beginning to feel light and airy.

Jessica opened her eyes. Her head pounded and body ached from muscles she never knew she had. Everything slowly came into focus, yet still dull. The light level was low, yet she could make out that she lie flat on her front porch. She sat up slowly, gingerly as an unbelievably powerful headache caused her to moan in pain. That was just one of many small pains that blended together into one large swell of bitter agony. Jessica laid back down on the porch, even that causing her intense discomfort, and curled up in a fetal position. She sobbed heavily as she suddenly remembered. Elizabeth. Amanda. Unbearable torture at the hands of Amanda's vengeful angels.

It took forever for Jessica to crawl back onto her feet and grab her torn book bag. She did not bother to look inside of it, or her purse. She knew what she would find.

'At least I can go to bed.' Jessica thought as she opened the door to the stern faces of her mother and father sitting in the formal living room.

Ch. 05: Hidden Sorrow

"For after all, the best thing one can do/ when it is raining, is to let it rain."

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Bluffs were a place of great natural beauty located just outside the town of Manchester, California. It was a large, tree- and- scrub riddled promontory of rock that towered above the deep blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. The cliffs ran for miles south of town, providing a large expanse of near- wilderness that attracted a wide variety of people from all over. Some of these visitors were attracted to the quiet natural serenity. Footpaths were constantly being created by the footfalls of the number of people who used the area as a place of quiet solitude. Hikers and backpackers took advantage of the area for the rough, uneven terrain. Rock climbers came attracted to the cliffs themselves which rose nearly a hundred feet in some places over perilously-shallow rocks lying in wait for any who were careless enough to fall. Others came because the thick underbrush provided the perfect cover for other activities of a more intimate nature.

There was one section of the Bluffs, however, which only one person had knowledge of. Only one road provided direct access to the natural rock formation, and it ran from the town of Manchester to the town cemetery. The cemetery itself was an offshoot of an even older cemetery which had been used by the long-abandoned trading post which gave the nearby town its' name. The road and sidewalk from town ended there at the ancient wrought-iron gates of the cemetery, continuing south of town in the form of an ancient, rutted wagon path that continued into the hills and rock where it eventually disappeared.

To find the path you have to look very close to find a tree with a particular notch on it. It was covered in a tangled mass of vine which, when moved aside, revealed a path only wide enough to admit one person at a time. The ground was littered with leaves, crisscrossed by the roots of many trees and various shrubs which waited to trip the unwary. The overhead canopy of leaves provided shelter against the sometimes- harsh glare of the summer sun. The path opened up to a small clearing, no wider than a couple tractor-trailers parked side by side. Walking along the edge, you will eventually find a small rock ledge that starts two feet below the cliffs' edge. It is slick with moisture, the result of the coastal tides pounding against the rocks offshore. It winds all the way down to a small strip of beach with sand that has the feel and consistency of sugar. From this beach, looking out into the ocean, there is a natural arch formation that had, at one time, been a part of the Bluffs. Wind and wave, rain and time had all conspired to orphan it from its parent rock. At a certain time of day, the golden disc of sun shone through the middle of the arch. The spray of ocean wave pounding against the rock created a fine mist in the air which caused the surrounding atmosphere to glitter with hundreds of shimmering rainbows.

This beach, this place was a magical one- a private sanctuary. She was the only person who knew of the beauty of this place, and she desired to keep it that way. Some things are too precious to reveal lest they lose their magical quality. At this time of day, unless other events prevented it, one could always find Elizabeth Greene. She was eighteen years old, a Senior at Manchester High School. She was an athlete, sure to be the next captain of the school ladies' soccer team. She was five feet, eleven inches tall with an athletic figure. Best described as toned and fit, Elizabeth cut a gorgeous figure. All of her curves from her breasts, which comfortably filled a 34C bra, to her hips which flared wide above a luscious derriere, made her desirable to look upon by male and female alike. Elizabeth had a natural beauty which she preferred to emphasize over the alternative of the ten tons of makeup some of her teammates preferred to wear to games. Her long raven-black hair was cut to shoulder length, but one would never be able to tell because it was kept perpetually tied up in a ponytail.

Other common attributes of Elizabeth included the bloody pair of knuckles she usually sported after giving Jessica Long the beating of a lifetime. This time, she was afraid that she had actually killed the girl. After she had found Jessica's pulse, she dumped the bitch onto her own front porch just after her parents arrived. After a meet and greet with Mister and Missus Long who agreed not to press charges in return for Elizabeth never laying another finger on their daughter unless Jessica threatened Amanda physically, Elizabeth retreated to the only place of solace she knew. She needed to cool down and regain her composure. She sent her team mates to their homes and walked to this place of respite.

Elizabeth closed her eyes to revel in the sensations that this beach provided for her. It truly was a place of spiritual healing for, in a life full of troubles, Elizabeth had come upon this place entirely by accident. Ever since that day, this journey was made frequently. The wind that whipped past the cliffs seemed to call out her name, the waves becoming the voice of the fury deep inside that drove her to protect Amanda at all costs. The sinking sun was the sense of loss and depression that threatened her fragile hold on sanity. Elizabeth truly was a troubled young woman, and she knew it. The problem was that, outside of the understanding tenderness of a fourteen-year-old girl, Elizabeth did not trust another soul with the depths of her despair.

Therefore, she trusted the winds of this lonely, isolated place. The wind, though powerful at times, could only carry her secrets so far before they were scattered like the leaves of Autumn. She could shout herself hoarse, cursing her fate and everything that happened to her and not have to worry about word somehow spreading like wildfire to reach every ear in town. It isn't like they would listen anyways. Who would dare contradict her stepfather?

Elizabeth shuddered just thinking about him. He was a real piece of work, that man. That was putting it very lightly. Her stepfather came into Elizabeth's life two years after the death of her father. Back then, he had been a caring person. He was always fun and smiles. Elizabeth truly thought she could get used to the idea of him being her father. Then, he decided to get into politics. Maybe it was true that politics corrupted people, that it was a natural slide. For Elizabeth, it seemed, he did more than slide. He dove into the murky waters of corruption and vice. After a while, his smiles became less frequent and his time away from home increased. After an arrest for DUI, a twelve-year-old Elizabeth remembered the growing number of alcohol bottles that never stopped increasing. The fights increased as well.

At first, Elizabeth's mother would send her to her room whenever she was about to get into it with her stepfather. Eventually, she quit trying to pretend and berated him endlessly right in front of Elizabeth. The verbal arguments became physical between the two of them. Her mother was not afraid to stand toe to toe with anybody, let alone her husband. However, she never won. The bruises were ample enough proof of the fights.

Her stepfather spent an increasing number of nights on the couch, and so did his comments on being so lonely. That was when he started to appear in her room at night. Back then, all she knew was that it hurt. Then she learned it was wrong, and began to blame herself. Eventually, she fought back and the night time encounters became increasingly violent. Now, she avoided going home altogether until she was sure her stepfather was passed out in drunken stupor.

Her mother was no help anymore, either. Shortly after the arguments began, her mother's own intake of alcohol increased. Her mother began to spend more time with a wine glass or tequila shot than her own daughter. Elizabeth would occasionally try to go shopping if only to get her mother away from alcohol for a bit. The furthest she got anymore was to have several twenties shoved in her direction and a noncommittal wave goodbye. Her mother, when she knew where she was, still showed little care for her girl. Elizabeth was truly alone in nearly every respect when it came to her home life.

She trusted the waves. Her mind and heart were strangely in tune with the tumultuous impact of water on rock. The best way Elizabeth could describe her relationship with that wondrous and awe-inspiring sight was as the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. Many people feel that such collisions would be epic, and there would be some sort of damage as a result. However, Elizabeth had a completely different appreciation for the phrase. She never even had to touch the water, the waves taking on the persona of unstoppable force. The immovable object was her iron will and determination to persevere, and her rage.

Elizabeth had long known she had anger issues, even as a small child. Ever since her stepfather came into her life and began his slide into whatever abyss he found himself a part of, that rage had only increased many times over. It was hard enough on a young girl to deal with the trauma of her father's death. Then another man makes an appearance and becomes family as though the first never existed. It was too much for her to accept. She wasn't mad at her stepfather, but she wished they would be cognizant of the love and regard with which she held her father.

The nail on the coffin was not the frequent visits to her bedroom at night. It wasn't the disturbances of her sleep those visits produced in her mind, twisting her dreams into torturous nightmares. It wasn't even the physical pain those visits produced, her body sometimes so wracked with agony that she could barely stand afterwards. It was the need to hide what was happening.

Elizabeth's stepfather had figured it out. He had seen what nobody else had seen, and what Elizabeth still had yet to come fully to grips with herself. She had never been able to admit the truth to herself, but she always had a slight suspicion that something was a little off in her friendship with Amanda Mondale. When he confronted her with it, she had panicked. The truth was a little too close to home for her mind to cope with at the time. So, she denied it, and continued to do so. Her stepfather was persistent, however.

After the first visit to her room, he made a very straight-forward and simple demand: nobody was to find out about what he had done. The consequences of her refusal would be that he would no longer intervene on her behalf when Amanda needed protection. He would no longer use his influence with the police to get her off without so much as a footnote on a record when she pummeled Jessica or whoever into the ground. Without Elizabeth, Amanda would be helpless and alone. Her stepfather would also tell Amanda's parents the truth about Elizabeth's friendship with their daughter. They would never let her near Amanda again. The price of keeping Amanda safe as Elizabeth tried to do was Elizabeth's silent compliance.

Elizabeth had never cried so hard in her life before that night. She was caught in a bind that as a teenager, she never should have been put into. What she had done to deserve the pain, torment and humiliation at the hands of her stepfather was completely beyond her. That is where she learned one of her life's first real, and important lessons: Those closest to you, even the ones you should be able to trust the most, are capable of the most cruel and malicious betrayals.

For the single reason that Elizabeth knew her anger would carry her to once more turn Jessica's face into a bloody pulp. Without her stepfather's influence and protection, she would surely see the inside of a prison. When that happened, Amanda would suffer endless torment, and that would be unendurable. As much as she hated it, she needed her stepfather to keep up that protection, if only long enough for Elizabeth to leave town.

That left another two problems. The first was she was simply running out of time. Elizabeth would not stay in town for a second longer than it took to graduate and go to college. This season would be crucial, for she knew her best chance at getting into a good college would be through an athletic scholarship. She was good at soccer, far better than at anything academic. Without soccer, she would be doomed to remain in town, and within the clutches of her stepfather forever. She had several rape kits worth of evidence against him, to be used when she finally left town. He could never hurt either her or Amanda after she went away. The worst-case scenario was that she would have to release them in a way that there would be no opportunity for her stepfather's friends in the police to tamper with them- all the while she was still living at home.

She trusted in the sunset. Elizabeth knew that as long as she remained at home, her life would forever be reflected in the sun, which set perfectly through the gaping hole of the natural arch just offshore. Through all of the trials she had gone through so far in life, and the others she knew were yet to come, Elizabeth's star was fading. The longer she remained in the position she was in, the harder it would be for her to get out. For years she felt like a patient on life support that had an aversion to all technology. Her stepfather, despite his cruel and predatory intentions towards her, was a necessary evil.

Until the time she could claw her way out of his grasp, she would have to weather his advances, and his threats. She would have to endure the awful nightmares the violations caused her. She would have to plot a careful line through life to be there for the only person in her life that made sense to her. Amanda was the distant light, forever flickering like a star she could never reach. It never stopped Elizabeth from trying, however. In a way she was like the early astronauts, having the opportunity and ability to reach the stars for the first time, but only able to go so far before their limitations forced them to turn back to the terrestrial body to which they belonged.

Elizabeth had been well aware for years that her friendship with Amanda was special. There was an undeniable connection between them that affected Elizabeth both mentally and physically. Whenever she was around the redhead she felt softer, more pliant. Where before she would be as rigid and unyielding as a wooden board freshly placed, Elizabeth around Amanda was a moldable gelatin-like mass of nerves and compassion. Nobody before Amanda, or since, had been able to make Elizabeth feel anything remotely like that. Yet, she was unable to explore those feelings. She was unable to seek the answers she sought as to why because she dared not let slip the depth of her feelings. As much as she was afraid Amanda would get hurt without her, she was afraid that Amanda would somehow be hurt by her, or worse, push Elizabeth away entirely.

For years she had, of necessity, suppressed those feelings as best as she could. However, she couldn't always help the awkward glance, the stares as Amanda woke up in the morning, her need to be physically close to Amanda. In her mind, she felt it was all wrong. Not just because of the fact Amanda was a girl, but because Amanda was a fourteen-year-old girl now. There were certain societal norms, which she shared, that prevented her from exploring the answers to the most important question of all, and the one Elizabeth could never ask even herself at this point without living in fear of what the answer would unleash inside of her.