THE CITY THE CITY THE CITY

“So Stephanie, how is your second week back to school?”

The stench of a flowery candle burns my nose as I breathe in and let out a deep sigh. I stop staring at the inspirational posters of puppies and kittens on the sage green walls and turn to Ms. Keller, my new therapist.

I don’t really get why I had to get a therapist. All that happened is that me and my friends got a little too drunk and I woke up in a hospital room with a few nicks and a killer headache. I figured my parents wanted me to fix my behavior, but it still feels unnecessary. I won’t say anything about it though, because I’d rather talk to some lady in an ugly room for 45 minutes every week instead of being grounded for sneaking out and getting sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

“It was okay, I guess,” I mutter. “I kinda flunked my math quiz on Wednesday, some of my friends and people at school are kinda icing me out, but it’s whatever. I talk to Audrey when we’re in class, and Mabel hangs out with me during lunch and after school.”

“Mabel keeps you company outside of class? That’s your best friend, correct?” she asks. She slows her scribbling to a stop and kind of stares at me weirdly. It looks like she’s trying to look neutral, but she also looks like she’s a little lost. Where’d this lady get her degree?

“Yeah? Me and Mabel have been hanging out during lunch since forever, so I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”

The room goes silent for a few seconds before Ms. Keller starts slowly writing something down on her notepad. “Right… and does anyone join you for lunch?” She looks up from her notepad expectantly.

“Nope. It’s just me and Mabel. Like I said, my other friends have kinda been ghosting me since the incident so it’s been just us two this week.”

“And this doesn’t make you feel upset? Angry, maybe?”

“...No? I mean, I’m kinda bummed that my friends are ghosting me, but I have Mabel, so I don’t really care.”

“Okay, so nothing has been making your return stressful? Nothing causing you lots of stress or anger?”

“Nope.” I glance down at my phone to see that Mabel hasn’t responded to my text... and that it's finally 11:30. “And our time is up. Bye!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I get to school, it’s a bit before lunch starts, so the halls are empty except for the occasional student with a spare block or those people who are brave enough to linger at school when they skip.

When I arrive at my usual lunch spot under the stairs, I plop down on the dusty floor and pull my phone out to send Mabel another message.

She’s been really bad at picking up my calls and texts recently. I pick semi-soggy fries out of the paper McDonalds bag in my lap as I wait for Mabel to return my text. By the time the bell rings, she hasn’t responded yet.

The mob of students being let out of class start flooding out into the hallways and down the stairs. There’s three types of people who see me in the halls. People who stare at me weirdly, people who see me and immediately avert their eyes, and people who see me and then turn to their friends to whisper. At first it did bother me a bit, but I figured that people probably just don’t wanna get involved with you when you drink a few too many drinks and end up at the hospital. As long as I have Mabel, I don’t really care about what others think of me.

“Hey, you get bored without me?”

Halfway through lunch, I turn my head to see Mabel sauntering down the stairs. Her short brown hair bounces with each step she takes.

“Of course I got bored.” I deadpan, rolling my eyes. “Why didn’t you respond to my text? I’ve been dying here without you.”

“You messaged me? I didn’t get the notification,” she says while trying to reach into my McDonalds bag.

“Hey! Those are my post-therapy fries!” I declare with fake anger, quickly snatching the bag out of her reach.

“7 years of friendship and you won’t even share your post-therapy fries?!” She pretends to be hurt before lunging for my fries again. “I need them more than you! I was the one who had to sit through morning classes.”

I jump onto my feet and away with my fries, shielding them with my arms. "Well, that’s not my problem. If you want post-therapy fries then you should-”

“Uhm.. Stephanie?”

Audrey stands at the bottom of the stairs, clutching her books to her chest as her brow furrowing with confusion. She moves her head to scan the area around me, looking for the source of disturbance before pursing her lips.

“Oh hey, Audrey! What’s up?” I say, straightening myself out so I don’t look completely crazy. Audrey is one of the only people other than Mabel who still talks to me normally. It’s a relief because we sit next to each other in Science, and if I didn’t have her, I would’ve had to drop the course.

“I was just going to ask you if you wanted to head to class together,” she says, looking away and down the hall. “...And I was going to ask who you were talking to.”

“Oh sure! I was just protecting my fries from Mabel.” I turn to shoot a glare at Mabel, which is returned with a wink. I grab my bag and wave bye to Mabel before joining Audrey in our trek to class.

“Do you get what’s happening in this unit?” I ask.

Her lips curl into a downturned smile when she turns to me, “Not at all.”

At least I’m not the only one confused.

“Can I come over after school and work on the homework with you? I don’t think I’ll make it to school tomorrow if I try to do the homework on my own tonight.”

Her lips purse a little before she looks away and mumbles, “Sure.” -

“He’s such a slow texter it drives me crazy,” Audrey says from her bed, exasperated as she looks at her empty notification box.

It’s been a while since we stationed ourselves in Audrey’s room. The walls are a bright yellow and she has cute matching sunflower bed sheets and a rug to match. She used to be situated on the floor with me, but she has since migrated to her bed to complain about her boy problems.

“Okay well, at least he texts you back. Every time I message Mabel she never responds.” I say, throwing a chip in my mouth. The crisp crunch of the chip fills the silence of the room.

“...What do you mean?” Audrey asks. I can tell she’s trying to ask in the most neutral way possible, but I can also tell that she’s hiding something. I get the feeling that most people have been hiding things from me recently, but I just don’t bother to ask.

Shrugging, I tell her: “Every time I message Mabel she never texts me back. And it’s not like she’s mad with me either. I talk to her everyday at lunch and she’s normal. It literally makes me want to choke her out.”

“Oh. Uhm-”

“No, like seriously! Like slow texting is bad, but at least you get a response after a while.” I throw my hands into my lap, exasperated. “If you ask for advice you'll get it within a few hours. I ask for advice and I don’t get it until lunch the next day! It makes me want to throw her in front of a truck.“

“Stephanie,” Audrey’s face is dead serious when she stares at me. “Stop saying stuff like that.”

“What?”

Audrey looks away and pushes her hair out of her face. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that. It’s not funny, and your reputation isn’t the best right now…”

"Jeez, it’s just a joke, Audrey. What’s gotten into you?”

“What got into me?” Her head whips around to face me and she raises her voice, her tone dripping with disgust. “I should be asking you that! You’ve been acting like nothing happened and I’m sick and tired of pretending that nothing happened.”

“I knew you were hiding something! What the hell are you even talking about?!”

"The reason everybody is avoiding you; the reason why nobody wants to talk to you anymore,” she stands up from her position on the floor with her chest heaving and her face warped with anger, “is because you killed Mabel!”

A thick silence suffocates the room.

“Audrey, I literally just had lunch with Mabel today. You saw her yourself.” I say slowly. “How did I kill someone I saw this afternoon?”

“No I didn’t! You weren’t sitting with anyone today when I came by. You’ve been hallucinating her and talking to thin air this whole time!”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not! She really is dead! She’s been rotting in her grave for 2 months already! Nobody brings it up because we were told not to, and because we don’t want to end up like Mabel!”

I let out a laugh, but it doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t feel right.

I don’t feel right.

I shoot up from my position, and I think the chips that were in my lap fall to the floor and spill everywhere, but I’m not sure because my hand is already on the knob of Audrey’s door and it’s swinging open violently, slamming against the door stopper protecting her sickening yellow walls.

I burst out of Audrey’s room and grab the railing to the stairs as I fly down them, my hands staggering down the wood as my clammy hands catch and squeak on the lacquered surface of the wood.

I hear Audrey stumbling out of her room and running down the stairs behind me and I think she asks me where I’m going, but she sounds so distant compared to the thunderous beating of my heart.

By the time I make it out the door of her house, I feel my lips responding to Audrey, but my mind is figuring out the quickest route to Mabel’s house:

Turn left. Walk 3 blocks down the street. Turn right onto Shuswap Lane. One more right at Shutterbug Avenue. House 8292.

A flashes of distant memories claw their way to the surface of my mind as I bolt down the empty, dark street.

Screaming. Cursing that is spat out so violently that it scratches at your throat.

What are these memories? Where did they come from? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.

My hands tremble as I shove my hand into the front pocket of my hoodie, trying to grab my phone.

When I reach the front of Mabel’s house, I frantically pound at her front door. The hinges creak under the assault of my fist to her door. My phone continues to ring as I continue to try and call her, but she doesn’t answer.

“Mabel! MABEL! OPEN THE DOOR!” I yell.

The door swings open and I can feel the rising hope in my chest get stomped into the pavement when it’s just Mabel’s mother behind the door.

“Stephanie? What’s going on?”

“I need to see Mabel, can I just-”

I’m sorry, I.. I think she’s asleep right now. You can talk to her tomorrow.”

“It’ll be really quick, I swear! I just need to see her for a second.”

“Stephanie, it’s very late. I think you should be getting back home. I’ll call your mo-”

I don’t give her a chance to finish her sentence as I squeeze through the space between Mabel’s mother and the door, pushing her out of the way and stumbling to the staircase.

My feet stomp and patter loudly against the carpeted stairs, but I can barely hear them. Suddenly, my knees buckle as my head throbs with a rush of unfamiliar memories.

A bottle shatters onto the gravel next to a messily paved road, its broken shards flying up and nicking my shins.

Steadying myself, I push myself up and fly up the rest of the stairs running to Mabel’s The door handle feels frigid against my burning hands.

“Mabel?!”

I fling the door open to see Mabel standing, looking out of her window with her back facing me.

“Mabel!” I heave and grab the doorframe, leaning my weight against it. “Mabel, thank god. You’re okay. You’re not fake! You’re right here! You’re right.. h..ere..”

Mabel continues to stand, unmoving in front of her window. My throat aches from my heavy breathing and my chest feels like it’s going to explode, but she continues to stand there. Silent.

“Mabel…? What’s wrong? Why won’t you say anything?”

“Stephanie.”

“Mabel?”

“Do you remember what happened that night?”

“Kind of? Not really? Mabel, why won’t you turn aro-”

“How could you forget?”

“What? I- I was drunk..! What.. what are you saying?”

“Don’t you remember our argument?”

A hand comes in contact with my cheek. My face stings as the anger boiling in my stomach erupts.

“Remember how you threw that bottle of beer onto the road?”

I can feel how deep my fingers grip into her shoulders but I don’t care. I hope my fingernails break the skin under them. Her hair is dishevelled and stuck to some parts of her forehead.

“Mabel, stop it-”

She trips, or maybe I pushed her with a yell.

“Remember how the truck swerved to avoid the glass?”

Headlights blind me as I scramble to grab her hand. I miss her by a millimeter.

“I can’t believe the driver didn’t see us.”

A truck honks.

She turns around.

The resounding sound of bones cracking follows.

Her short brown hair is encrusted to what’s left of her face by blood and grime. Half of her face is mutilated beyond recognition and the other half is bloody and bruised. The entirety of her torso is mangled, with the skin of her abdomen completely torn off. One of her intestines hangs out of her and falls against her bloody leg. The flesh is torn off of one of her calves, leaving only the bone to keep her upright. Her left arm is twisted grotesquely and her elbow bends in the wrong direction. Her right shoulder is popped out of its socket, and only the remaining top half of her right arm hangs limply by her side. I can see bits of white where the flesh was ripped off and ground into the pavement, leaving the bone exposed.

“I can’t believe you killed me.” burnett club feature: