Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 32

Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.

Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.

Write What You Know, Part 32
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 496 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31

Everyone arrived at the house within minutes of each other. It would have been funny under any other circumstances. Cassandra came first, then Jennifer, Then Riley.
Cassandra had made it to the back of the house before Jennifer came in the front door. Helen hadn’t told her where in the house the goddamn money was and she was about to regret the decision to come here. Until she heard that voce.
“Hello? Cassie?”
She laughed to herself. She laughed at Helen. How did she survive at all when everything she did turned to shit, the exact opposite of what she intended. She wanted to keep her away from Jennifer and yet there she was in her living room calling for her.
“Honey, your home.” She said laughing and without leaving the room. She was didn’t want Jenny to see the state she was him. Her hands shook and sweat beaded on her brow,
“Where are you, Cassie?”
“You’re fine where you are. What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you I guess. I needed to say something, I think.”
“Is it an apology? Because if not I’m not interested.” 
“An apology?”
“Let me guess you don’t think you did anything wrong? You never, EVER think you’ve done anything wrong. So fucking blameless, you’d think you were a saint.”
“I’m not blameless. I’m not guilt free. I’ve done plenty of things wrong. But none of them to you. I did everything I could for you. I loved you.”
“You promised me forever. FOREVER. But you were hooking up with that little slut at that stupid store. And then once you got me locked up you ran around with everyone you could find. You had the audacity to lie to my face.”
“I never, ever cheated. There’s been no one for me before or since. You know there can’t be. YOu know that. You were the one who ruined forever,” she said then immediately regretted. 
Cassandra laughed bitterly. Maniacally. She came around the corner from the back of the house somewhere. She was outlined in darkness. Her breath came in ragged puffs like the Big ad Wolf. Jennifer could just make out the switchblade in her hand. The sound of it’s blade sliding out was unmistakable.
“You ungrateful bitch. You locked me up and left me alone to rot. IF that’s your idea of love, you’re more fucked up than I am.”
“You tried to kill me. And not a little bit.You tried hard. You wanted to kill me. You want to kill me now don’t you?”
“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you do that two years ago? Why didn’t you do that last week? Why don’t you do it right now?”
“BECAUSE. . .”
Her scream echoed in the house. IT started raining outside. The loud rain that made everything sound like it had tin roof with it’s assault.
“I don’t just want you dead. I want your life in tatters. I want every scrap of dignity you worked for with your fake names and shitty stories to be made a mockery in print, like you did with my life. Then I want to kill you.”
“I didn’t mock you. It’s not even directly you. I immortalized what was special about us. I immortalized out love.”
Jenny said nothing. Coming here was a mistake. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with Cassandra. Everything she said was just an excuse. She finally understood how all those doctors judges and cops felt when she would try to explain her actions. IT was bullshit or insanity to avoided consequences and responsibility. Cassandra used the books as an excuse for her hate, and used her suspicions and doubt to mistrust her, and deny herself the happiness she could have had.
“I lied to you once. Exactly one time. When we met in New York that time. I told you I was the same person. I told you kept the bracelet but I didn’t. I wasn’t the same person. I hadn’t been the same since you were so overwhelmed by hate that you tried to kill me not once but two ways at the same time.” So it was two lies at the same time and one charge. Just like you.” (Um, clear this the fuck up.)
“WHY DID YOU COME HERE? You’ve ruined everything again. You always ruin it.”

Detective Riley could here the women fighting from the other side of the door. He wanted to go in but the situation was so volatile he didn’t know what to do. So he backed away from the door and called  for back up, no lights no sirens. Then went back to listening because if something went down he would have to more as fast as physically possible to make sure it wasn’t a colossal fuck up. 

(I’m pretty sure this is some horrible coping but also did you forget it was raining? Because it definitely is and his ass should be soaked.)

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry for that. She hadn’t ruined anything but her twisted revenge plot but she was sorry that she couldn’t help her now. That she couldn’t save her then, that Cassandra couldn’t love and Helen, poor silent Helen was trapped inside her somewhere.
“No you’re not.”
She suppressed a laugh how was she always trying to laugh at the most inappropriate times. IF she survived this maybe she would work on that. But the funny thing was, No one ever believed her.
In the time she was busy with trying not to laugh Cassandra rushed up the short hallway and stabbed her. Again.
She couldn’t stop the laugh this time.

Detective Riley made all the wrong decisions and was too late. That’s what Hutchinson said when he suspended him. No one died he told himself to try make himself feel better. And he saved who know’s how many lives by catching her in the act, he added when that didn’t work.
HE’d known he was playing with fire in his approach but there was nothing saying that a different approach would have had a different or worse outcome. Including both of them dead and Helen on the run again. He had to wait for back up.
The good news was that she confessed. She confessed a lot. No matter what her public defender tried to do or say. He’d get one thrown out and she said it again. She’d say to everyone and and anyone who’d listen. And anyway, even if she didn’t talk, there was the DNA on her knife. And all that evidence in the hotel room. She killed them all. Kept their (SOMETHINGS) 32 people in total. All across the country. She was a sensation. 
It was enough to make him sick. Enough to make him quit. He’d see how his suspension went first.

Cassie’s knife caught a few more of Jennifer’s organs this time. Including a lung. Got her left cheek and all her limbs too. She’d gotten a lot quicker and better at stabbing. She’d had a lot of practice apparently. But Detective Riley was on her before she could finish the job this time. He even caught a bit of her knife.
She’d given her that knife for their first Christmas in freedom. When it was still good. Because it was pretty and it’s power was hidden, like Helen. And she’d said that she felt defenseless against everything, even her own mind. She knew it wouldn’t help against Cassandra but she though if at least in everyday life she could feel less defenseless against the world then maybe she feel strong enough against Cassandra too. Turns out she was master of irony. (Or you know something witt-yish).
She was in the hospital for a long time healing. For three weeks. Three weeks she avoided tv because the only news was Cassandra and she couldn't’ look at her face over and over again. So she wrote. She wrote another ‘NRaged novel. The last one. The one where Nikki dies for good. Fans will be sad that Danny doesn’t come back but there was a reason she’d killed him off. That love couldn’t last. One of them had to end of dead sooner or later. Like all of Nikki’s lovers. And she could keep living in the past.
All of her books sold like hotcakes because of The Ripper case. On the next book tour she got the best rooms she’d ever had. 
So everyone knew all her secrets. They knew everything about her now. There was no holding it back, not with the way Cassandra talked. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. IT made interviews easier. To not have to keep up with all those lies. To tell the simple truth.
“So, tell us Jennifer, where did you get your ideas?”

“It’s the oldest advice in the book. I write what I know. Madness as love. Lies as Truth. And stab wounds.”

Thank you for reading!