Taboo

Keywords: or, Dare, Truth, 09, Ch.,

"Hey, Sarge," Dare said, petting Will Cougar's German Shepard on the head. Sarge had been around a long time and he was getting old. He thumped his tail on the wooden floorboards and licked her hand. Dare went past him, into the store.

"You trying to kill your dog, Cougar?" Dare asked. Will was leaning over the counter with the Shadow Hills Journal open in front of him. "It's freezing out there."

"Old Sarge can handle the cold," Will said, looking up at her and smiling. "He's looking out for the place. What brings you by?"

"Cough drops," Dare told him, heading toward the medicine aisle. "Dad caught a cold. He always does when the weather hints at snow."

"It's expecting to storm," Will said as she came back with a box of Sucrets.

"Did you read that in the paper?" Dare asked, tossing the box on the counter. Will picked it up.

"Nope," he said, ringing them up. "I read it in my joints. We're gonna get snow before the week is out."

"You've got to be getting old if you can feel the weather in your joints," Dare said in mock-awe. Cougar rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, they're getting ready for my funeral right now, in fact," Will said. "Any day now. You never know when I'm going to kick the old proverbial bucket."

Will bagged the cough drops and handed them to her. "So, how are you doing?"

Dare shrugged. "I still miss him, but I'm getting out a lot more."

"With the wrong people if you ask me," Will said, shaking his head. "It's a funny thing about you and Shane. Up until Nick died you hated the boy's guts."

"I didn't "hate" him," Dare said, feeling uncomfortable.

""Hated" him," Will repeated. "It's a strange thing. It has people talking."

"Good," Dare said.

"Is that your purpose?" Will asked. "To get people talking about you?"

"Why does there have to be a purpose?" she asked.

Will shrugged. "It's just funny, that's all. Shane doesn't seem like your type."

"I don't think Shane is anybody's type," Dare said. "Especially in this town."

When Dare stepped back out onto Cougar's front step, Sarge whined to be petted. Dare scratched him behind his ears for a minute, staring out at the skyline. Will was right. There was going to be a storm by the end of the week. Maybe sooner.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Julia?" Dare stepped cautiously into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, head cradled in her arms, crying softly. "Julia, what happened?"

Dare put her car keys on the table. Julia didn't raise her head. It had to be something major. Julia didn't cry unless it was. Dare felt queasy.

"Julia, are you okay?"

Julia looked up, wiping her eyes.

"Is Dad okay?" Dare asked, a horrible thought occurring to her.

"He's fine," Julia said, shaking her head, not looking at Dare. "I didn't hear you come in. It's just the delayed reaction, I guess. I was reading the paper there." Julia pointed to an article. "And it just hit me."

Dare picked the paper up, skimming the article. It was about the capture of the Clinton Grove Cat.

"Oh," Dare said softly.

"It's the cat," Julia said. She looked haggard. "It's that fucking cat." Dare stared at her agape. Julia drew a shaky breath, wiping away the last traces of tears. "How can you send a cat to prison?"

"Can't even put him on trial," Dare said, smiling weakly. Julia put her head back down. When Dare left for work that night she was still there, smoking a cigarette and staring out of the kitchen window.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Do you need me to stay with you?" Shane asked when people started moving away from the casket. Dare shook her head.

She had thought about it herself often enough. Nothingness. To think about nothing ever again. That seemed comforting. The only thing that kept her sane, living, was the hate. It burned, forcing its way to the surface like a living thing, demanding to be seen, to be tended. She wished she had an outlet for it, somewhere for it to go...

""The whole world gets turned upside down when stuff like this happens and nobody seems to have any explanations.""

Cougar's words came back, as words often do, while she stood in the cemetery looking at yet another coffin, Shane's arm brushing hers.

She didn't have what I do, Dare thought, looking at Suzanne's casket. She didn't have anyone to tell her what happened to Nick.

Dare had thought a lot about it. Just taking too many pills, a razor blade in the bathtub, her brother's gun... but she had never actually done anything. She couldn't. She had that burning need to know what really happened.

Suzanne, Nick, Tommy—everyone was gone. Shane still stood beside her, steady, a rock. Did she believe it was a bob-cat? She had to, didn't she? It had been confirmed; it had been in all the papers. Cat gone, tourists please come back. Well, not in so many words. The injustice of it filled her, thinking about Suzanne on the night of the party, tall, blonde, smiling, a little drunk. And then she had gone home and killed herself.

Dare closed her eyes, the blood seeming to thicken in her head, and she leaned against Shane. He put his arm around her, holding her tightly.

She looked at him, knowing that she had waited too long and hated herself for it. It would be hard, harder, but she had lost so much more now and her conviction was greater.

"Are you sure?" Shane asked. "You could come to my house. My dad won't be there."

"I'll meet you there," she said, turning and walking toward her car. She was not going to go to Suzanne's. She couldn't bear to. She had things to take care of before going to Shane's. Dare looked back at him when she was through the gates. He was standing under the overcast sky, his hands in his pockets, looking across the cemetery. Something twinged inside her. He looked worse than he had at Nick's funeral. Worse than he had in a long time. She shoved the sympathy quickly away SNIP and got into her car.

She had to find out the truth, or confirm the truth, but if she didn't do anything she was going to end up like Suzanne: so lost in "why" she would drown in it. Dare was going to find out "who" and go from there.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had stayed closed for two months. Dare put her hand on the doorknob, trying to remember exactly how it looked. It had been too long. Her palms were sweating, and her heart was thudding heavily in her chest. The poster of "Murphy's Law"... Dare felt like she was going to be sick. Her dream and his sightless eyes, the blood, the—SNIP

She turned the doorknob and shoved the door quickly open. It was dark and she felt for the light switch. It was there on the wall, like it always had been, and no hand came out to cover hers in the darkness as she flicked it on.

Light flooded the room and Dare took a step back.

"(oh Nick...)"

It was in suspended animation. Everything waited for Nick to come back to it. All the things she had dreamed about, and more: the models, his posters, his skateboard, his skis—all there. The picture of Suzanne and Nick was still on the night table. The hairdryer and jar of Bedhead gel were still sitting on the dresser. Dare closed her eyes for a moment, fighting tears. It was hard, still so hard, and so unfair, oh, nothing was ever fair...

Dare made her way toward his dresser and knelt in front of it, running her hand along the wood. Tears blurred her vision. She opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and stared dully at his sweaters. Won't be needing them this winter, she thought, and shivered.

She lifted them carefully out of the drawer and found it. She pulled it up and looked at it: Nick's gun. He had taught her how to use it just last year, and told her where he kept it. Julia never knew, of course. She would have had a cow! Nick liked to have it, although he never used it. It made him feel safe, he said. It was a .45 automatic.

Dare picked up the box of ammunition he kept with it and put it in her pocket. She really only needed one bullet and the thought startled her. She hefted the gun in her hand, feeling something flutter inside of her. The heavy way it sat there made her stomach do a flip-flop.

For Nick, she reminded herself, looking at the smiling face in the picture frame. And Suzanne, and Tommy. She knew that, most of all, it was for herself. Beyond everything and everyone in Larkspur, she was doing it for herself.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the talisman hanging around her neck. Taking it off, she set it on his dresser, knowing that after today, there wouldn't be any more bad dreams.

When she left, the door stayed open.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So, what do you think?" Shane asked, opening his arms wide. "It's not much, but I can call it home." He shut the door behind them. Dare looked around, setting her purse on his dresser. It was dark, the only light coming from the full moon shining through the window, and she made out the shapes of a bed, a dresser, and the window. That was all.

"It's a little dark to tell," Dare said, turning to him. "Do you have a problem with electricity, or what?"

"Nope," he said. "But the electric company has a problem with me. Didn't pay the bill. They tend to frown on that," he said, moving in front of her.

"We have to talk," she said suddenly. It was silent for a moment.

"Okay," Shane said. "So talk." Dare folded her arms over her chest, cupping her elbows. She didn't know how to start and didn't know if she could.

"What is it?" Shane asked, his hands running up and down her upper arms. "Is it Suzanne?"

"Yes," she replied and shook her head. "No, well, it's Suzanne, and Nick and Tommy. It's everything."

She didn't look at him. She could see his outline in the dimness and that was all she wanted to see. She didn't want to have to meet his eyes, see his concern. As much as she thought she understood him, she still didn't trust him. She didn't think she was capable of trusting him or anyone anymore.

"I know," he said.

"Yeah," she said, jerking away from him. She sat on the bed. "Yeah, you "do" know, don't you?"

He sat beside her, close.

Keywords: or, Dare, Truth, 09, Ch.,