Wild Things

A twelve-year-old girl with a shaved head wearing a blue jacket over a dirty, faded pink dress glared at someone off-screen as blood dripped from her nose. The scene remained frozen at sixty-seven percent.

“Did you try restarting it?” Marie asked. “Cause I need my fix.”

“Of course I did. And it keeps getting stuck right fucking here,” Anna said, throwing the controller down in defeat. “I give up. We’re doing something else tonight.”

“But… Eleven,” Marie said. She frowned and crossed her arms while slouching into the old, indented sofa. “Our internet sucks.”

“You’re telling me,” Anna said. “So, what do we do now?”

“I guess we could like… go outside?” Marie suggested.

Looking out the window at the marble-clouded sky then back to her own owl-spotted pajamas, she shook her head. “That’s a negative.”

“Dammit,” Marie said. She stood up and walked over to the dining room table. Half a puzzle lie constructed across the surface, the remainder of the pieces scattered across it and the floor. “Guess we could finish this thing.”

A lion’s face began in the middle, and beside it a tiger, and opposite the tiger started an elephant. There were many animals that hadn’t yet been created. Parrots, rhinos, snakes, and numerous wild things waited to be seen.

Marie crawled around on all fours gathering pieces around the dining room. “Do you think most sisters are this boring?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, but I’d rather be boring and happy than living out there like the rest of them; drunk, high, doing anything just to feel something. I feel plenty right here at home,” Anna said, sitting in a chair and sorting through the pieces her sister located. “Without them.”

Marie looked up. “Yeah, but don’t you ever just want to… I don’t know, see more?”

Anna observed their open home. From their books that lined the six book shelves and their movies that lined two more, the couches that had seen many years, the pictures of their parents and themselves that sprinkled the house with love. “I’ve seen plenty, and so have you.”

Marie smiled wanly. “Sure, but I mean out there,” she said as she waved her arm to the windows. “In the world. There’s so much out there–to touch, to feel–why don’t we just go? Hit the road, take a trip, we have time. We’re young.”

“Where would we go?” Anna asked. “What is it that you’re so eager to see?”

“I don’t know. Anything. The world,” Marie said, “Don’t you ever just want to do something? Take a chance, a risk?”

“Not particularly,” Anna said, staring at the pieces, trying to make something of them. Her mind felt like the sky though, suddenly darker and overcast. She couldn’t concentrate.

“Well, I do. So let’s go. Let’s do something!” Marie stood, conviction in her voice and facial expression.

“You can’t be serious,” Anna said.

Marie smiled wide and nodded once. “Yes, I sure am, ma’am. So, come on. Let’s go on an adventure!”

“But this puzzle can be our adventure,” Anna said, smiling awkwardly. “Besides it’s gross out there. What are we going to do sopping wet?”

“Well, we can drive until there is no rain.”

“And how far exactly would we have to go?”

“Who knows? That’s the point,” Marie said. She had a wild smile, one that screamed more. One that screamed freedom and spirit and happiness.

“What if we get lost?”

“Then we’ll find our way back, Anna. We always do.”

* * *

Anna held her sisters hand as they walked down the winding pavement. Their parents on either side of them, holding their other hands.

“Do you like your presents, kiddos?” their father asked, smiling down at them. The girls nodded emphatically in unison, mirroring his smile.

“Yes, daddy,” they shouted their thanks at their parents.

“Oh, honest, look, Anna, there’s a lion,” their mother said, pointing into a nearby exhibit, “They’re your favorite, aren’t they, sweetie?”

Anna nodded exuberantly. “They go raawwwwrrr.”

“Yes, they do baby,” their father said.

“Where are da famingos mommy?” Marie asked.

“I’m not sure baby, we’ll find them though,” their mother said.

“And all the other wild fings,” Marie said, smiling down at Anna, leaning her body into her.

* * *

Zooming down the interstate at seventy miles-per-hour, the girls stared out their respective windows. With Marie in the driver’s seat, she looked ahead, while Anna leaned on the frame of the car, her eyes locked onto oblivion through a smaller glass window.

They passed mass amounts of cornfields, and occasionally a billboard for one thing or another. They’d been driving for an hour towards Des Moines, and along the way they’d seen two signs already for the Zoo they loved as children.

The radio crapped out on them long ago so they both learned to enjoy the silence. It accompanied them most days, wrapping them in its somehow stable and comforting embrace.

Anna’s feet rested on the dash, and as they reached the threshold where the rain stopped, the sunlight danced through the windshield and her sparkled toenails reflected brilliant colored lights inside the car.

“So apparently outdriving the rain is a thing,” Anna said. She rolled down the rain-covered window and stuck her hand outside. Even as fast as they were going the sun still brought warmth to her skin.

Her sister smiled and said, “Told you so.”

The world around them remained eerily quiet, no traffic or people; just the wind rushing past the car with each passing second. Anna turned to her sister.

“So you don’t have a plan? No destination in mind?”

“No, I’m just driving. We’ll know when we’ve arrived.”

“What if only one of us feels it?”

“Feels what?”

“Like we’ve arrived? What happens if only one of us feels it?”

Marie looked over at her sister, her lips curved upwards. “I guess we’ll find out.”

* * *

Between two fingers Anna held a blue applicator and a medium-length string protruded from the bottom.

“Can you explain it one more time?” Anna asked her sister.

“You just put the applicator tip… in there… you know where, and you push the other end in and make sure the string doesn’t go in, too.” Marie sighed from the other side of the bathroom door. “It’s not hard, Anna, I promise.”

Anna followed her sisters instructions and felt the pressure as she forced the small tube inside of her. “It hurts.”

“It’s going to be really uncomfortable at first, but then you’ll totally forget about it. Just don’t forget for too long. It’ll kill you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Anna said, pulling out the applicator. She tossed it in the garbage along with what looked like evidence from a small murder scene. “This is disgusting. How do we do this for decades?”

“We just have to,” Marie said, shrugging as Anna opened the door.

* * *

Marie reached her hand for her sister’s. In her lap, she squeezed it tight. “I know where we’re going.”

“Is it far?” Anna asked, glancing back inside the vehicle.

“Not too far,” Marie looked ahead, “It shouldn’t be long now.”

* * *

His hand inched up her thigh and she bit into his lip. “Stop,” she said, trying not to breathe him in.

“Come on, Anna, just a little more,” he panted. “At least third base. I just want to touch it.”

“Get off,” she said, pushing him back with the entirety her strength. He sat up and retreated. “I don’t want to.”

“You know what, Anna? My friends were right about. You’re just a fucking tease,” he said, shaking his head as he turned away from her and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, then put his seatbelt on.

“What? They think that?”

“Well they fucking knew you wouldn’t put out.”

“I’m sorry.” She stared at her hands as they twisted in her lap. Her fingers repeatedly ran over her bracelet. Emblazoned in-between all the little etchings of animals was the word Wild. She looked to the boy. “You don’t have to take me home, we can still hang out.”

“Nah, I’m done. I’m tired.”

“We’ve only been out for like, five minutes, come on, let’s go bowling or see a movie or something, forget this happened.”

“How about you take ‘I don’t want to’ like I just had to.” He combed through his hair while looking in the rearview mirror. “And you can be damn sure I’ll forget this.” He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “And put your seatbelt on.”

When Anna got home, she crawled into bed with her sister. “I don’t understand what I did wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Should I have let him–?”

“No.” Marie ran her fingers through her sister’s hair. “You’re amazing, and smart, and let’s not forget beautiful, because you look just like me,” she said, smirking at her. “He’s an idiot. A teenage hornbag.”

“I think you just mixed two words together,” Anna said, a welcome smile pushed through her pain.

“Whatever, you know what I mean. He’s a douchedog. Just forget about him. You’re here with me now.” Marie pulled Anna in close and held her. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

Anna’s eyes drifted closed. She could hear the tires on the pavement, her sisters light breathing, and the air outside the car as it flew by whistling.

She hated the feeling of falling asleep. The literal feeling of letting go and giving in to your subconscious. The place where everything comes back to haunt you.

Her mind flitted back into something, a memory? A dream? She wasn’t sure.

Darkness surrounded her, but she remained in the car, driving down a familiar road. The stars in the sky waltzed and sparkled in ways that mesmerized her.

Her own hands embraced the wheel as she carefully stared ahead at the ice-covered pavement. Fog painted the road and enveloped the car so much so that she couldn’t see more than five feet ahead. She slowed down.

Something scampered across the pavement and instinctively she touched her foot to the brake. The car glided to the left effortlessly, but she turned the steering wheel to the right and corrected it. The car drove straight again. She sighed and locked her eyes on the road again.

Marie woke beside her and asked sleepily, “Are we almost home yet?”

“Almost,” Anna said, glancing at her. Her eyes closed again and her mouth hung open as she drifted back into her slumber.

Anna checked the time the dash, it was nearing ten; later than she expected.

“Buckle yourself in, Marie,” Anna said, looking back to the road.

Headlights appeared through the fog and blinded her. She hit the brakes too hard and the car rolled over and over, until crumpled metal and shattered glass were all that remained.

Anna’s eyes shot open, her breathing erratic and her entire body shook.

“Pull over!” Anna yelled, pulling her legs down from the dash.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Marie asked, slowing down.

“Pull over!” Anna screamed.

“Okay, okay,” Marie said while steering to the right and slowly coming to a stop.

Before the car had stopped moving, Anna had exited the vehicle and she hunched over on all fours in the gravel, the rocks pressing into her flesh. She thought she might vomit, but nothing came out.

“Anna, please,” Marie said, going over to the passenger side of the car. “Come on, just get in the car and we’ll be there soon. You’re okay.”

“I’m so obviously not okay!” Anna stood up and paced beside the car. “It felt so real, Marie!”

“You’re okay,” she said, touching her sister’s shoulders lightly with both hands. “Okay?”

Anna looked up and into her own eyes. They were exactly same, down to every freckle and color. She brushed her sister’s cheek.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen,” Anna said. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Marie pulled her sister in a hug. “Let’s just go. We’re almost there.”

“Where are we going?” Anna asked, pulling back to look at her sister.

“Anna,” Marie said, smiling, “Please, we’re almost there. Just get in the car.”

Anna looked at the car; the black paint, the perfectly in-tact windows and lights and bumpers.

“I don’t understand,” she said. Tears that she hadn’t realized she’s shed streaked her cheeks.

“Anna, you’re okay. Come on.”

“I don’t want to!” Anna said, pulling from her sister’s embrace. “I want to go home.”

“Anna, we have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to,” Marie said, holding out her hand for her sister’s, her own bracelet glinting beneath the sun’s rays, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

* * *

“We’re going to be halfway across the country from each other.”

“I know.”

Marie held Anna’s hands in her own. “But I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Anna closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t go. It’s selfish.”

“It’s MIT, Anna, you have to go.”

“I can’t leave you, and mom, and dad, and this, my life.”

“You are going to do so much good, though, Anna you have to go.”

Anna looked around the room they’d shared for the last eighteen years, covered in memories in the form of teddy bears won from state fairs and pictures snapped from all around. Notes and homework from ten years prior still clung to corkboards and mirrors.

“There’s so much I’ll be leaving behind.”

“But there’s so much for you to still get out there.”

Marie smiled and Anna said, “I know.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “There’s something we need to do, though, to celebrate.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” Anna said.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

* * *

Continuing down the interstate, Marie kept her eyes on the road and so did Anna from the passenger seat. She refused to close her eyes. Now she knew exactly what waited for her in the dark, she didn’t want to give in to it.

They passed by signs, all of which led her to realize exactly where they were going.

“Why here?” she asked.

“Because, it’s kind of always here, isn’t it?”

They continued down winding roads to the empty parking lot.

“I think they’re closed.”

“No, they aren’t,” Marie said, getting out of the car. “Come on,” she yelled at her sister, waving her out.

Anna took a deep breath and exited the vehicle.

“They are obviously closed. And that means that we’re trespassing. And it’s the middle of the day. We’re going to get into a lot of trouble.”

Marie continued walking and Anna trailed behind, her eyes watching everything around them. Once again: silence. Where was everyone? she wondered.

They reached the double doors and Marie opened them without a problem.

“What the fuck?” Anna asked, looking around the entrance. Once again, empty. Not a person in sight, yet the doors weren’t locked.

They walked forward.

“Where are we going?” Anna asked.

“Shh… come on,” Marie said, still leading the way.

“Marie, please, what’s going on?”

Marie stopped, grabbed her sister’s hand, then pulled her forward. They passed the store, the little gift shop stops, the penny-imprinters, the first exhibit, then the next. Finally, after rushing across the entire place, they reached a stopping point.

Marie walked ahead, Anna stood still at the base. Marie pressed her nose to the glass, staring down below, and Anna couldn’t help but watch her. There she stood; beautiful, vibrant, magical. She turned to her sister and gestured for her to join her. “Look, Anna,” Marie said. Anna slowly joined her, their hands intertwined. “Look at all the wild things.”

They stood in the observatory above the lions, tigers, elephants, giraffes, antelope, and all the other animals of the many different kingdoms. They could see it all from there.

Anna let go of her sister and put her own hands to the glass. Everywhere she looked she saw the wild in it’s beautiful and very real state.

Anna turned to Marie, who now stared back at her. She smiled.

“Do you understand?” Marie asked.

Anna nodded. But saying the words proved more difficult than she ever could have anticipated. “You died,” she said, breathlessly. “That’s what I saw. In that dream, you died.” She turned back to animals below, the ever-familiar tears returned to her cheeks. “It wasn’t a dream.”

“It wasn’t,” Marie said, putting a hand on her sister’s back. “But you have something you need to now, Anna.”

She swallowed hard. She could still taste the blood in her mouth. Feel the glass in her skin. The lack of feeling in her leg. The cold, harsh kiss of the winter air whipping at her face.

“I don’t want to go back without you,” Anna said, nearly choking on the words. “I can’t.”

Marie’s hands moved up to Anna’s face. “That’s the thing, sweetie, you have to,” Marie said. “You still have a life to live. And you are going to do beautiful, amazing things with it. But not if you stay here stuck with me repeating these same memories and days, over and over again. You have to let go of me.”

Anna held Marie as tight as she could in her arms. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Do it for me. Do it for all the things I will never be able to do. Live a life that I would be proud of. Be happy and love. Please, Anna, for me.”

“You’re not even real, are you?” she asked, pulling back. “Just something in my mind because I can’t do this.”

“I’ll always be real to you, I hope. You’re my best friend,” Marie said before kissing Anna on the cheek. “I promise that I will never leave your side.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” Anna said, crumpling to the ground.

“Just let go,” Marie said.

“How?” Anna curled into the fetal position and couldn’t–wouldn’t–move.

“You have to let go,” Marie said. But her voice darker, deeper, father away.

Anna closed her eyes, she couldn’t help it. Her lids were so heavy. And the world was so cold. So cold and dark. When she opened them, she knew it was over.

“You have to let go,” a man said.

Anna opened her eyes as much as she could. The car was smashed to a pulp, her sister lay bloody and lifeless beside her and their hands were intertwined, Anna’s grasp unbreakable.

“You need to let go, ma’am, we need to get you to the hospital,” the man said.

“I can’t leave her,” Anna choked out along with the blood that filled her mouth.

“We’ll bring her, too, but you have to come now,” he said, leaning in closer to her face. “Please, we can save you.”

Anna squeezed Marie’s hand, ran her fingers over the bracelet that completed the set, then did as she’d told her to. She let go.