chapter seventeen

Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's diary

'Blessed be those who walk in the light of the Gods. And those that walk their own paths. And have the courage to follow them without looking back, so it is, so it shall be. So it shall ever be. Amen.
Blessed be those with the courage to chance the paths they make. For all time.
For those who dare not stumble on the stones of Life in their paths. And lose sight of the way. Or lose the will to stand and persevere. Who give up before their time. Those that get lost when the way gets dark and the weeds encroach. The mist rises to swallow the unwary.
But the strong, the faithful, they will fight on. Will eventually find a way through. Day in and day out they strive. Desperate to find the way. Searching their hearts for the strength to go on. Clawing their way back.
Looking for what they may never have. And seeking what they may never possess. Wasting away in idle pursuit. Attempting in vain to return. To the paradise they may never know again. With no hope to redeem their fall from the light. Shielded from the sun that once was their strength. They must remain in shadow, for all time. And never be blessed again. For they have committed the greatest sin of all . . .'

~ * ~
Early October, 1998
Los Angeles, California

Staring out the tinted window as the car pulled out of the driveway, Tay wondered just what the hell had happened to the last two years. Why were they so hard to remember? This time in '96, they'd been doing what they were doing now. Recording. This time in '97, they'd been . . . somewhere. Ironic, he couldn't even remember.
"Zac?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the fast-moving domestic strip outside the window. Zac and Isaac exchanged surprised glances. So Tay was talking now?
"Yeah Tay?" the younger boy's breaking voice was hesitant.
"Where were we this time last year?"
"I dunno, how am I supposed to remember?" all that earned him was Taylor's retreat into silence and Isaac's elbow in his ribs. Scowling, he folded his arms and stared straight ahead.

'Its not fair why do tay and ike get respect and all i get is an elbow in the ribs or a hit upside the head its damned abuse thats what it is ill take them all to court and have them all sued so theyll have to start paying attention to me i have an opinion just like they do why are they listened to and everything i says fobbed off because oh hey thats where i fell over and nearly broke my wrist rollerblading that time theyre older than me just because im almost thirteen no stupid twelve years old for me im almost thirteen it sounds so much better i hate being almost thirteen its no fair nobody gives a damn about me maybe i can freeze time and ill grow up while everyone else stays the same and ill start time up again when im older than ike and then theyll have to listen to me thatd be so cool then maybe i can help tay to stop being so psychopathic hes really freaking me everybody out with this neurotic psychosis of his i wish hed quit it how can we do an album if hes gonna walk around acting sckitz itd sound so weird maybe we can turn it into one of those freaky albums that just have this noise stuff the whole way through i wonder what everybody else would say no wonder tays turning in dr jeckyll and mr hyde hes been drinking too much reckon i could prove that drinking dr pepper and water and coke not that kind of coke and milk can melt someones brains and turn them into some weird science experiment thatd be so cool put tay into an fbi lab for study then maybe we could get some time off and not have to go round and round i feel like a yoyo going back and forth or one of those freaky spinning tops that just keeps going do they charge it with electricity or something tay could be frankenstein in disguise and hes got a few screws loose well hes always had a few screws loose but all his wirings melted out too much i cant take this stupid song anymore'

"Dad could you please turn down that song?!" Zac almost shouted. With raised eyebrows, Walker turned 'Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds' down.
"I thought you liked that song Zac," when his son didn't answer, he turned back to the busy road, trying not to sigh. What was happening to them?

Lost in his daydreams of those five happy months in 1996, recording Middle Of Nowhere, Taylor almost didn't notice the car pulling to a stop. His door suddenly opened. He nearly fell out. The slightly dazed and confused expression on his face as he got out and looked around was enough to put even the security guards off. They'd all overheard snippets of recent executive conversations about this boy; and none had been exactly favourable.
As Tay passed through the door, the two security guards eyed one another, pity in their eyes. That earned them an icy glare from Ike as he passed. When the whole family were safely inside, the guards locked the doors and sat in their folding chairs. The one on the left turned to the one on the right, lighting a cigarette at the same time.

Guard 1:	I (puff) feel for the poor kid you know
Guard 2:	I know what you mean
Guard 1:	Who'd be able to keep away (puff) from the pot after even half of what he's been (puff) through
Guard 2:	Pot?
Guard 1:	(puff) Yeah
Guard 2:	Last week, it was opium
Guard 1:	Who knows? He's gotta be on something. (puff) I mean look at him!
Guard 2:	I feel for the poor kid
Guard 1:	I know what you mean (puff)

~ * ~
Early November, 1996
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Even the irritatingly nasal voice of the flight attendant over the aeroplane's PA system couldn't dampen the mood of the eight passengers seated by the right wing. After nearly 6 months, they were coming home. Finally!
With an excited little smile, Taylor stared out the window over Tulsa. A home-coming couldn't have been sweeter. Not only did he get to collapse on his couch, in his own living-room and watch TV, he also got to see Rhiannon again. The post-cards had stopped coming in September. He'd sent three to Gwynedd before he'd gotten a reply; a short message from Rhee's grandma, saying that they'd left Wales, and that she'd sent all his postcards on to Tulsa. So he'd written to Tulsa. Still no reply. In the end, he'd written to Elisabette and asked her what the hell was going on. The (extremely short) letter back had been oblique, saying Rhee was 'a little distracted right now'. What on earth that was supposed to mean he had no idea, but he'd gotten the message and stopped writing.
Running out of customs, Tay raced passed the baggage terminal, straight out into the main terminal of the airport. Dodging people, he managed to find an unoccupied seat, which he stood on to get a better look at the crowd.
"Come on Rhee, where are you?" he murmured to himself. Where was she? Long dark hair and New Age clothes, she'd be impossible to miss!
A tug on his sleeve caught his attention.
"Looking for someone?" amber eyes stared up at him. His smile was sincere, but then, so was the disappointed look in his eyes.
"Hey Liz,"
"No need to look so excited," she smiled.
"Sorry, I'm just tired,"
"You look it too. Can't wait to get home?" since when had Liz become so perceptive? But besides that, she hadn't changed much. Her ash brown hair was still almost as long as his mother's, her large eyes were still that unusual shade of amber. The worn jeans, loose T-shirt and baggy jumper were all still there, underneath an age old brown duffel coat. The day Liz changed would be the day he died in hospital from a triple heart-attack!
"Yep," he glanced over her shoulder, "Is Rhee here at all?"
The look on Elisabette's face changed so quickly, Tay had to blink to make sure he wasn't imagining things. The smile had drooped to a frown. The steel doors had slammed over the emotions in her eyes, but not fast enough to keep out the pain his words caused. It had been the wrong question to ask. She was silent for a long time, wouldn't look at him.
"Liz?" she just shook her head slightly and turned, walking towards the exit. Very fast. "Liz! Wait!" she didn't stop. "Liz!" he ran after her and grabbed her by the shoulder, "Liz, please!" she stopped, but still wouldn't look at him.
"What's wrong? Why isn't Rhee here? Speak to me!"
"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to," her soft words were vague, but the meaning wasn't. Whether he'd pick up on it was another question entirely. "Tell your parents we brought your car around. It's right down the back of the car-park," seemingly composed, she walked out the exit doors. Confused, Tay walked towards his family, who were gathered near the busy McDonalds, trying to decide what to get for breakfast. Maybe a few hash-browns would take his mind off things.
Safe from sight, Liz broke into a run, across the car-park to her father and the car and invulnerability. But her fear wouldn't be exorcised so easily.

They'd been home less than three hours, and already the house was becoming stifling. Memory had glorified being home. Taylor had envisioned stretching out on the couch, that was longer than he was, and watching TV in peace. He'd forgotten to include the seven other people that occupied the house in his vision. Having expected everybody to have collapsed into bed - or in his case, on to the couch - Tay had been amazed that they were all doing their utmost to stay awake. Most likely, purely to annoy him.
Lucky enough to be the first in the door, he'd claimed the TV before Jessie and Avie could plonk themselves three inches from the screen and watch their precious Nickelodeon. Complaining loudly the whole way, Jessie and Avie had gone up to their room and raided their toy cupboards for the Barbies that had been unfortunate enough not to get to go to LA. Taylor knew because the everybody in the house could hear them. Mackie was engaging in his new favourite past-time, banging any fry-pan or pot in reach with wooden spoons, and creating a hell of a lot of noise. Zac was outside, doing . . . something. He looked like a cross between an elephant and a gorilla. Walker was on the phone for some reason or other, systematically ringing everybody on a list he'd drawn up on the plane. Diana was getting lunch ready, and trying to coax Mackie away from the pots and pans at the same time. Isaac was the only smart one out of the lot of them - or so Tay thought; he'd barely managed to shut the bedroom door before collapsing onto Tay's bed and falling fast asleep.
Another five minutes and he just couldn't take it any longer. He had to get out.
"Mom! I'm going for a walk!" he called as he forced himself off the couch and grabbed his coat.
"Where to Tay?" Diana called over her shoulder, trying to turn Mackie's attention away from banging the pots that were strewn everywhere across the kitchen floor.
"I dunno. Maybe Rhododendron,"
"When will you be back?" he looked at his watch. 1:43pm.
"Um, three at the latest,"
"Okay then. Be careful!"

Kicking a stone the whole way up the street, Taylor gazed around at Rhododendron Park. This place was like Liz, it never changed. He could come back in 30 years time, and it'd still look exactly like it did now. Why was he so sure?
There was hardly anybody there. Just a lady walking a little black Scottish terrier, that was rugged up in a tartan mini-jumper; the kind they made especially for dogs. The terrier ran as close to him as its leash would allow and yipped happily.
"Hey," he hunkered down and scratched the little dog gently behind the ears. In return, it tried to lick his nose. For all his faults, he'd always loved animals.
"What's his name?" he asked the woman, who smiled indulgently.
"Nigel," she chuckled, "We were very unoriginal,"
"It suits him. Hello Nigel," Nigel tried to lick him again. Laughing, he gave the dog one last scratch behind the ears and stood up.
"Bye Nigel," yipping once more, Nigel turned and followed the woman. Tay watched as they crossed the street and disappeared around the corner. What to do now? There was nothing here except wet benches and stark trees, and he didn't want to go home. There was always the Auberach Hall Elementary courts, but then there was usually somebody there. But did he really want to play soccer on an icy tennis court with a bunch of 3rd graders? Not really. What else was there to do?
A low rumble answered his question. Glancing at his watch, he raced for the other side of the park, as the #37 Peoria Drive bus lumbered down the road. Liz's words, 'Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to', echoed in his mind for a second as he stepped on and fished in his pockets for change. Just for a second.

Trudging up the hill, to Rhiannon's house on Elise Crescent, Taylor gazed around at all the ritzy houses. This was one of the richer ends of town. The further up the hill you went, the more exclusive - and expensive - the houses became. God knew, Arian and Lew were rich as sultans. To be able to afford everything that was in their house - a house that was at the very top of this hill; on Elise Crescent! - certainly said something for their yearly amount of income!
Sure, it was great to have all the prestige and that, but did they have to live at the very top of this very steep hill? Taking a deep breath, he forced his feet to keep moving,
'Almost there! Just a few more steps . . . a few more . . . a couple more again . . . more . . . hell how far is there to go?!'

The Lougher's house was on the corner of Elise Crescent. Thank God, since Tay knew he couldn't walk another step. He collapsed onto the Lougher's front lawn to get his breath back. The grass was cold, but he was hot from walking up the road. It wasn't long before his breathing had returned to normal, and he had cooled down enough to want to go inside, where he knew the fire would be going. Roasting marshmallows and playing checkers by the fireplace had become an established tradition last winter, and he'd been much looking forward to it.
He knocked on the door and continued to daydream about the warmth and the smiles until the door was opened. His courteous smile faded. Shoulder-length dark hair, blue eyes, a polite expression that had dissolved instantly into cold disapproval, bordering on hostility.
"What?" Carlton asked.
"I . . . um . . . I -"
'Come on Tay! The worst he can do is slam the door in your face!'
"I came to say hi to Rhiannon. We just got back from Californ-"
"You can't," in those two curt words, there was more raw emotion and bitter icy hate than Tay had thought possible.
"Pardon?" the evenness in his voice was born more of surprise than defiance.
"You can't speak to her,"
"Why?" surprise giving way to confusion.
"Because you can't! If it weren't for you, none of this shit would have happened!" and the door slammed in Taylor's face.

For a long time, he just stood there on the step, staring at the door. The wood has a nice grain to it; the rings in it were almost evenly spaced. You had to get up real close to see the subtle pattern that pleased the eye. The tree must have been old to have this many rings in its grain. Why the hell was he thinking about wood grains?!
Not really wanting to wonder what Carlton had meant, and trying to convince himself that he didn't care, Tay climbed over the side fence, which led down the side of the house to the backyard, and headed for the window with the big dream-catcher in it. Her window.
Odd. Rhee was usually the one who answered the door. He couldn't remember a time when she hadn't. She mustn't have heard him knock. Odd . . .
An involuntary shiver caught him by surprise. A twinge of suspicious foreboding.

Standing on a brown milk-crate, he was about to tap on Rhiannon's bedroom window when a noise stopped him. Had he heard right? Was that . . . sobbing?
Staring through the glass, his eyes slowly widened so far he was struck by the crazy fear that his eyes might fall out.
Rhiannon's room had always held a sense of serene tranquillity, calmness. What he was seeing now was neither tranquil nor calm.
Arian sat beside the futon bed, holding a pale hand in her own. Tear streaks marked her drawn cheeks, framed by sleep-mussed hair. Would the tears stain the soaked collar of her wrinkled shirt? In the time that he'd known her, Arian had always taken great care with her appearance of elegant sophistication. But not now; the woman looked haggard.
She was murmuring something he could just barely hear, even though the window was open. It sounded like Welsh. One word he did catch was 'cariad'. Over and over. He remembered that one. It meant 'beloved'.
And suddenly Carlton burst into the room. Jumping from fear, Tay almost fell off the milk crate. Ignoring his mother, Carlton rushed over and sat on the bed as if his life depended on it. Yet his hands were gradual and careful as they gathered his little sister into a gentle hug.
"You don't have to worry any more Rhee. I got rid of him, he won't bother you again. I'll protect you Rhee, if he ever comes near you again. I'll crack his skull open if he ever touches you cariad. He's gone, now you can come back. You don't have to be scared any more Rhee, you can come back. Come back Rhee. Come back to me Rhee!" his voice cracked as he rocked slightly back and forth, holding his sister like a frightened little child. Arian lay a hand on his shoulder; the only comfort she could offer.
All this time, Rhiannon hadn't moved, either to aid or resist. She'd just lain limp on the bed. Even now, she sagged in her brother's arms, unwilling - or unable - to hold her own weight. Her brown eyes were wide . . . and empty. No recognition was there at all, just . . . nothing.

What was going on?

~ * ~
Early October, 1998
Los Angeles, California

Swinging absently on the swivelling chair, Isaac watched Taylor through the glass wall. He was supposed to be adding a background keyboard track to the one song that they still couldn't decide what to call; it'd come under the working title of 'That Song'. 'Supposed to be' being the operative words. The slightly glazed look in Tay's eyes made it fairly obvious that his mind wasn't on 'That Song'. The woman at the console had actually asked Ike whether his brother had concussion 'or is he just stoned out of his wits?'.
And frankly, it was embarrassing.
Ike glanced at his watch impatiently; the three of them had been in here for the last hour-and-a-quarter. How much longer was it going to take Tay to get this one track right?

Almost curious, Tay ran his little finger gently over the white plastic keys. Faux ivory keys had such a nice feel to them, why replace them with these horrid plastic ones? Plastic keys got so hot when you played outdoors. It was so dark in this room. Why wasn't he out in the sun? Where was he?
"Taylor!"
"Christ!" his hand went straight to his wildly beating heart; the voice in the gloomy darkness had scared the daylights out of him.
"Tay?!"
"Who's there? What do you want?! Leave me alone!!" Ike watched in horror as Taylor near-frantically looked around the room for the source of the noise. Did he even realise the sound had come from his headphones?
"Tay it's me! It's Ike!" the jerked movements ceased, to be slowly replaced by confusion.
"Ike?" slowly, the recognition was coming back into his voice. The vague look was leaving his repeatedly blinking eyes.
"Yeah,"
"What do you want?" trying to ignore the fact that the woman was staring alternately at him and his disoriented brother, Isaac tried to keep his voice even and patient, when all he really wanted to do was grab his brother by the neck and shake him until he snapped out of whatever it was that made him act like this.
"We're supposed to be getting this keyboard section recorded,"
"What keyboard section?" Ike could see the woman rest her forehead in her hand.
"The one that's written right in front of you," surprised, Taylor took in the sheet music set out over the console of his keyboard.
"Oh," much to his annoyance, Ike heard the woman sigh; he glared at her.
"How about we take a break for a few minutes?" she suggested, then stood up and hurriedly walked out of the room. Still studying the sheet music now in his hands, Tay didn't even look like he'd heard. Swearing under his breath in impotent exasperation, Ike lay his head on his folded arms. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Studying at the sheets of paper, Taylor forced himself to stare at them until his eyes watered, trying to work out what the coloured 'd's and 'p's were. He felt they should mean something to him, but they didn't. Frustrated, he glared at the 'd's and 'p's, trying to force them to make sense!
"Dammit, what the hell do you mean?!" he whispered to the paper, seething. No reply. Sick of it, he tore the paper in half and threw it to the floor, angry tears trickling down his cheeks. He had to get some fresh air; to get away from this awful dark room. He turned towards the door.
"Shit!" jumping back in fear, he fell to the floor. But he didn't notice the pain; all his wide-eyed senses detected was the apparition in front of him.

The long hair fell around her like a waterfall of darkness, framing her empty face.

Wisps of his sunny blond hair, tied back, fell around his shocked face in disarray.

The black eyes, slightly accusing, stared at him, yet seemed to see right through him.

Fearful blue eyes, almost hypnotised, couldn't help but stare back.

She extended a pale hand toward him. An offering.

Hesitant, he reached out.

"Tay!!" Isaac shouted, wondering what the hell his brother was playing at.
"Wha-?!" the noise blasted in his ears, he whirled around, trying to see where it was coming from.
He looked back.

Rhiannon was gone.

* * * *

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