((Helena Christensen: Prologue Start))
As she ate the first piece of apple pie, Helena Christensen knew she was going to die. She knew she would die the minute she had her name announced back at school, and she knew she would die the second she woke up in what looked to be a small house. She especially knew she was going to die when she searched her duffel bag and found her “weapon.”
Printed on the top of the box was a picture depicting young white girl with rosy cheeks, blonde pigtails tied with black hair bows, a white dress and apron, a white baker’s hat, and a fresh pie in her hands. Behind the girl was an American flag, proudly waving in the wind behind her. The entire image was contained in a small black circle dead center on the lid of the white box.
“Miss Liberty’s Homemade Pies” read the black text arched around the top of the illustration. “America’s No. 1 Pie Company since 1879” the text read beneath the illustration.
Helena glared at Miss Liberty. It was clearly a sick joke made by some person who worked for The Program. Was Helena given the pie due to her resemblance to a cartoon baker who may not have even existed in real life? Helena twirled a finger around one of the braids that hung over her shoulders. It didn't matter, she decided. What mattered was the flavor of pie inside.
Well, not really, but Helena was curious anyways.
Helena was seated at the kitchen table of the dwelling. She set the box on the table before her, carefully removing it from the bag. She slowly opened the lid, clicked her tongue, and rolled her eyes.
“Apple pie. How unoriginal.”
Helena stared at the confection before her. In a round, metal tin, she could see a golden brown lattice crust laid on top of baked brown apples. She closed her eyes and sighed.
She was going to die.
Helena leaned back in her seat. This was it. This was what it was all building towards. All 17 years of her life were designed so Helena would be seated at this table somewhere in Mexico, faced with the pie she was somehow supposed to use to kill every person she knew in school. This was what The General wanted from her. This was what America wanted from her.
“Bullshit,” she muttered to herself.
Helena pushed her square-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. They wanted her to die. That was certain. It's not like she stood out in any way. She wasn't strong, wasn't notably intelligent, wasn't really a stand-out back home. She was part of a family that had some notoriety, but that seemed hardly relevant. But then again, maybe it was and she had no idea. Maybe someone at the Program offices read news articles from a decade ago.
Helena leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. What was she supposed to do now? She either killed as many people as she could to win and be subjected to some unknown fate, or allow herself to fall prey to one of her peers. She wouldn't go home, she wouldn't see her mom or sister, and she wouldn't get to continue her craft as Helena Christensen.
Maybe dying wasn't so scary considering “Helena” was already dead.
Helena looked back at that damned pie that Miss Liberty baked just for her. The prison system in America was no more, with all guilty and falsely-convicted criminals forced into service. But there were still remnants of prison culture that remained. Textbooks still talked about men and women in chains. Prison buildings still stood in some areas, unless they were torn down or converted into military operations locations or office parks. Some phrases like “25 to life” and “throw away the key” we're still in the lexicon. But there was another thing Helena remembered about prison cultures.
In a book she once read, prisoners in death row would be offered one final meal before they were executed. It could be something as simple as a pint of their favorite ice cream or as hearty as a steak with two sides. This was the prisoner’s last bit of joy before they shuffled off the mortal coil, and the decision couldn't be made lightly.
Helena stared at the apple pie. This wasn't her first choice for her last meal. If she had a choice, she’d want to eat her family’s spaghetti and meatballs, with a basket of garlic bread, plenty of grated Parmesan cheese, a molten lava cake, and a pitcher of sweet tea. Then she would face the gallows with ease.
But this wasn't a real prison, and there was no one who would give her such a request. Helena dug through the bag, past the bottles of water, MREs, crackers and bread. These were the meals for prisoners of war. Helena was guilty of being a member of National Summit Academy's senior class. If she was going to die for her crime, she would eat like it was a meal she wanted.
Helena got up from the table and walked around the kitchen. She began to open drawers and cabinets, pulling out everything she was sure she’d need. After a few moments, she took her place at the table.
In one hand, she held a pie server. In the other, she held a butter knife. Helena moved the apple pie closer to herself, then dug the knife into the center of the pie. She slowly cut towards herself, drawing a line down the center of the pie. She made sure to press harder to crack the crust lining the pan. Once she was done, she reversed direction, cutting the pie in half. She repeated the process, rotating the pie each time. By the time she was done, the pie had neatly been cut into eight pieces.
Helena grabbed the old pie server she found at the bottom of a utensil drawer. She dug it under the first slice, trying carefully to not break the slice in half. She slowly lifted the pie out of the pan and marveled at it. The apples were layered nicely, she could see the glaze from the sugar and cinnamon, and the crust looked perfectly cooked.
She placed the pie on the plate before her. She had searched and found a set of plates that were painted different colors in rings, going from warm reds and oranges on the outside to cool blues and purples in the center. It was like someone sawed through a rainbow-colored tree. Helena presumed it was a design befitting the country she was in, and appreciated the work, especially since she was about to obscure it with the brown pie.
Helena sat in the chair and looked at the piece of pie on the plate. She picked up the fork on the right side of the plate, which rested neatly on a folder cloth. She placed the fork on the plate, then picked up the cloth. She placed it neatly under her hoodie collar, letting the blue and white cloth clash with the dark purple hoodie she wore for Announcement Day.
She use the fork to break a piece of pie off and held it up to her eye level. This pie would be the last thing Helena Christensen would eat. As she looked at the baked apples and crumbling crust, she knew that this was the last chance she could be happy in The Program.
She moved the fork to her mouth, and took a bite. She slowly chewed the pie and swallowed. Helena wiped her mouth with the cloth.
“Delicious.”
She didn't care if the executives of Miss Liberty’s Homemade Pies climaxed from that free publicity. She just wanted to enjoy her last meal.
She took a sip of the open bottle of water she kept at the right hand side of the table setting. She continued to eat in silence, taking in all the sweet and tart apples she could.
As she finished the piece, she felt a tear start to fall down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. If this was how Helena Christensen was to die, it wouldn't be as a weak, crying girl. She would do it as a strong girl.
Helena stared at the remaining seven pieces of pie, she sighed. This was her reward, but also her labor.
“Might as well have another. Not like I have anywhere else to be.”
The Life and Death of Helena Christensen, as Told in Eight Slices of Pie: Pt. 1
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours)
As she ate the second piece of apple pie, Helena Christensen thought about her family. They immediately came to mind as she lifted the second piece of pie and placed it on her plate. It wasn’t anything about the pie in particular that reminded her of them, but they naturally came to mind. Wasn’t that how it always went? People sent to war have photographs or mementos of their loved ones that they hold onto in the midst of chaos. What did Helena have of them?
She had their memory, at least. Her phone was confiscated, so she couldn’t have any pictures of her mom or her sister. She didn’t have any family heirlooms on, nor did she have any clothing that was borrowed from her sister. Helena would have to make due with the memories and snippets of her life in her head.
It wasn’t so hard to dig them up. From an early age, Helena was always surrounded by family. The Christensens were a close-knit family in a middle class area of Denver. She could remember waking up to breakfast cooked by her mom. She could remember getting into the car with her dad to go shopping. She could remember her older sister teaching her how to climb a tree and how to put makeup on. For most of her early life, Helena could see all three of them around her all the time. Even if she was mad or annoyed with any of them, they were always there.
The Christensens were a fairly normal family. Her father, Albert Christensen, worked for a private equity firm in Denver. Helena never understood much of what he did, not that she was ever at an age to understand what he did. All she knew was that those long hours meant that they had a nice house and would always have plenty of food and plenty of money to travel around the country for vacations.
Her mother, Olivia Christensen, was the homemaker. She was always the one who took care of the home while Albert was working long days at the firm. Cleaning, cooking, shopping, picking up the kids from school, that was what Olivia did every day. Helena never saw her mom look tired or frustrated, but she never got the idea her mom wanted to do anything but look after Helena and her sister.
Besides, Olivia had her hobbies and interests. There was a room just behind the kitchen that was all for her mother. On the wall were ribbons, scissors, paper, glue, everything Olivia needed to make crafts. Helena’s mother had spent her college days learning to make crafts and gifts for people. Whenever Olivia was free, she locked herself in the room and made crafts to sell at a Farmer’s Market every Sunday. Every weekend, after church, Olivia would fill her car with shadow boxes, jewelry hangers, wall ornaments, and whatever else she had made that week, and set them on a table to sell. Some days, she’d make a lot, some days not a lot. Holidays especially saw a lot of extra cash come their way.
As she took another bite of the apple pie, Helena thought about how happy Albert and Olivia Christensen were back then. Helena didn’t have a lot of time to be with both of them, but she always seemed to have good memories of each. She could remember the way her dad would manage to flip omelets in a frying pan, and how her mom would like to hum show tunes to herself as she moved around the house.
It was as Helena dug the fork into a large piece of apple that she thought about Melissa. Melissa was her older sister, eight years older than Helena. Melissa was always a bit of a wildcard. She was the one who was always running around, climbing trees, or inventing new games. Albert and Olivia always had to worry about what kind of trouble Melissa would get into whenever they weren’t looking, but Melissa never tried to make them worry. She just wanted to have fun.
Being the younger sibling, Helena often found herself following Melissa. Melissa was the one who was teaching Helena how to play games, how to talk to other kids, anything that Melissa thought was important for her little sister to know. Helena found that hands-on nature a bit annoying at times, but considering Melissa rarely went out of her way to annoy Helena intentionally, she had to relent.
The four of them greatly enjoyed their time together. For most of her early life, neither of Helena’s parents were called for service. Albert and Olivia did stress the importance of faithfulness to the country, they wanted their daughters to remain critical and open. Olivia wanted the girls to know there was more to life than America’s strength, and that they should try to find their own way to make their way through life. Albert wanted them to be smart as to realize when things were wrong. He stressed the importance of speaking up for those who needed help.
For Helena, this meant she didn't join in with any bullying or hate speech. She preferred to avoid trouble by not acknowledging it, something that got her through most of elementary school with only the occasional milk carton dumped on her head.
Melissa, on the other hand, really took it to heart. Every so often, Albert and Olivia were called into school because Melissa got into a fight. Melissa said she was standing up for friends, and the fights only turned violent when the other party made the wrong choice of words.
As a result, Melissa soon found herself surrounded by many of the lower-caste kids in her high school. Melissa was always inviting them to her home and spending time at theirs. Helena saw quite a lot of minority kids pass through the house. From what she could tell, most of them were physically weak and a bit shy. Someone vivacious like Melissa allowed them an expanded social circle, and thus they were loyal to her.
For her part, Melissa was genuine with them. She had friends besides minority students, but she always seemed sincere in her efforts to get to know them. Whenever Helena passed by the group playing cards or watching TV, they always seemed really pleased with one another. Melissa was a leader, but outside of school, it looked like they all were equal. Helena always thought they looked so happy together.
Helena pierced the last crumb of pie with her fork and slowly began to eat it. That was two slices down now. In about half an hour, Helena managed to eat one quarter of a pie. She would never have eaten so much in one go, but she didn't see why she shouldn't? Melissa made her choice to be friends with all those kids, so why couldn't Helena choose to pig out?
They’d end the same, anyways. Eating pie, building that large circle of friends. All they'd do is ensure one Christensen daughter was beyond saving.
She had their memory, at least. Her phone was confiscated, so she couldn’t have any pictures of her mom or her sister. She didn’t have any family heirlooms on, nor did she have any clothing that was borrowed from her sister. Helena would have to make due with the memories and snippets of her life in her head.
It wasn’t so hard to dig them up. From an early age, Helena was always surrounded by family. The Christensens were a close-knit family in a middle class area of Denver. She could remember waking up to breakfast cooked by her mom. She could remember getting into the car with her dad to go shopping. She could remember her older sister teaching her how to climb a tree and how to put makeup on. For most of her early life, Helena could see all three of them around her all the time. Even if she was mad or annoyed with any of them, they were always there.
The Christensens were a fairly normal family. Her father, Albert Christensen, worked for a private equity firm in Denver. Helena never understood much of what he did, not that she was ever at an age to understand what he did. All she knew was that those long hours meant that they had a nice house and would always have plenty of food and plenty of money to travel around the country for vacations.
Her mother, Olivia Christensen, was the homemaker. She was always the one who took care of the home while Albert was working long days at the firm. Cleaning, cooking, shopping, picking up the kids from school, that was what Olivia did every day. Helena never saw her mom look tired or frustrated, but she never got the idea her mom wanted to do anything but look after Helena and her sister.
Besides, Olivia had her hobbies and interests. There was a room just behind the kitchen that was all for her mother. On the wall were ribbons, scissors, paper, glue, everything Olivia needed to make crafts. Helena’s mother had spent her college days learning to make crafts and gifts for people. Whenever Olivia was free, she locked herself in the room and made crafts to sell at a Farmer’s Market every Sunday. Every weekend, after church, Olivia would fill her car with shadow boxes, jewelry hangers, wall ornaments, and whatever else she had made that week, and set them on a table to sell. Some days, she’d make a lot, some days not a lot. Holidays especially saw a lot of extra cash come their way.
As she took another bite of the apple pie, Helena thought about how happy Albert and Olivia Christensen were back then. Helena didn’t have a lot of time to be with both of them, but she always seemed to have good memories of each. She could remember the way her dad would manage to flip omelets in a frying pan, and how her mom would like to hum show tunes to herself as she moved around the house.
It was as Helena dug the fork into a large piece of apple that she thought about Melissa. Melissa was her older sister, eight years older than Helena. Melissa was always a bit of a wildcard. She was the one who was always running around, climbing trees, or inventing new games. Albert and Olivia always had to worry about what kind of trouble Melissa would get into whenever they weren’t looking, but Melissa never tried to make them worry. She just wanted to have fun.
Being the younger sibling, Helena often found herself following Melissa. Melissa was the one who was teaching Helena how to play games, how to talk to other kids, anything that Melissa thought was important for her little sister to know. Helena found that hands-on nature a bit annoying at times, but considering Melissa rarely went out of her way to annoy Helena intentionally, she had to relent.
The four of them greatly enjoyed their time together. For most of her early life, neither of Helena’s parents were called for service. Albert and Olivia did stress the importance of faithfulness to the country, they wanted their daughters to remain critical and open. Olivia wanted the girls to know there was more to life than America’s strength, and that they should try to find their own way to make their way through life. Albert wanted them to be smart as to realize when things were wrong. He stressed the importance of speaking up for those who needed help.
For Helena, this meant she didn't join in with any bullying or hate speech. She preferred to avoid trouble by not acknowledging it, something that got her through most of elementary school with only the occasional milk carton dumped on her head.
Melissa, on the other hand, really took it to heart. Every so often, Albert and Olivia were called into school because Melissa got into a fight. Melissa said she was standing up for friends, and the fights only turned violent when the other party made the wrong choice of words.
As a result, Melissa soon found herself surrounded by many of the lower-caste kids in her high school. Melissa was always inviting them to her home and spending time at theirs. Helena saw quite a lot of minority kids pass through the house. From what she could tell, most of them were physically weak and a bit shy. Someone vivacious like Melissa allowed them an expanded social circle, and thus they were loyal to her.
For her part, Melissa was genuine with them. She had friends besides minority students, but she always seemed sincere in her efforts to get to know them. Whenever Helena passed by the group playing cards or watching TV, they always seemed really pleased with one another. Melissa was a leader, but outside of school, it looked like they all were equal. Helena always thought they looked so happy together.
Helena pierced the last crumb of pie with her fork and slowly began to eat it. That was two slices down now. In about half an hour, Helena managed to eat one quarter of a pie. She would never have eaten so much in one go, but she didn't see why she shouldn't? Melissa made her choice to be friends with all those kids, so why couldn't Helena choose to pig out?
They’d end the same, anyways. Eating pie, building that large circle of friends. All they'd do is ensure one Christensen daughter was beyond saving.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
As she ate the third piece of apple pie, Helena Christensen thought about the day her dad died.
She didn't think of this right away. After finishing her second piece, Helena needed to stretch a bit. She was still groggy from the drugs, and eating two pieces of a sweet apple pie started to weigh on her. She took some time to walk around the first floor of the house. She realized she hadn't secured the house so that she could enjoy her last meal, so she took this time to draw the curtains and lock every door.
Once she felt secure, she then stretched out on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. It was an unfamiliar ceiling; one that looked a lot like one back home, but still different. She wondered if the family that originally lived here thought it was normal or familiar. She wondered if people felt this discomforted staring at ceilings. Maybe she was still under the effect of those drugs.
After about an hour being a blob on a couch, she walked back to the table, prepared another piece of pie, and started to eat. That was when she started to think about her dad.
It was the day the family was dreading. Albert was being called away for military service. It was his second service, as he had spent his first one right after finishing college. She heard from her uncle years after Albert's death that Albert figured that going into service would be easier then finding employment after college. It didn't seem like a good idea in hindsight, if what followed was any indication.
Albert had about a month before he'd go. A month to somehow get everything in order. Helena remembered her family being very stressed in that time. Olivia and Melissa were both making lots of phone calls, hoping to find work of some kind. Albert's job had ensured they'd keep a comfortable lifestyle going. With him gone, they'd see an immediate dip in their savings. Olivia had very few qualifications and experience, having spent the last sixteen or so years being a housewife. She could continue her craft sales, but those wouldn't be much. Melissa found it much easier to find work, getting employed to work drive-thru at a Burger King. Melissa surely wouldn't complain about her check going to the entire family. She joked about how money lead to greed which lead to selfishness and anger, so she gladly forced her weekly paycheck into her mom's hand with no trouble.
By the time Albert was ready to go, things looked like they were getting better. Olivia found part-time work working front desk at a nearby hotel. It was long hours, and the pay wasn't that great, but it at least meant she could be with the girls during the day and work evenings. She and Melissa could trade hours with Helena left alone for at most thirty minutes each night. Plus, with their savings and some careful planning, they were sure to survive.
But there was something about it that wasn't so pleasing to Albert. Sure, there'd be a stipend for military service, but Albert kept stressing about leaving the women behind. Five years would be a long time. He'd miss Melissa's graduation. He'd miss Helena starting middle school. He even starting bringing up hypothetical scenarios he'd miss; Melissa getting married, Olivia hosting an art show, Helena competing in the Scripps National Spelling Bee, Melissa walking the Pacific Crest Trail, Olivia going back to school and graduating, even Helena receiving an award from the local police station for some act of heroism. It was all pretty ridiculous, something Helena heard her mom tell her father. But there was always something. Something to make Albert not want to leave.
Finally, the night before he was supposed to leave, everything seemed fine. The family had gone out for a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant they only went to for birthdays and anniversaries. They had all talked about what they were going to do while Albert was away. To Helena's surprise, Albert had a surprise for both girls. He handed them two boxes, each containing a new camera.
Albert had asked both girls to promise him something. While he was gone, far away, he wanted them to take pictures and send them to him. He wanted to see what they were doing, where they were going, what they noticed. He wanted their pictures to remind him of home, and to show him they were still okay. They could send the pictures whenever they could, as much as they wanted. Helena, being only 8 at the time, couldn't believe she'd have her own camera to use. She had gone to bed thinking of all the things she could take pictures of for her dad.
Unfortunately, Albert wouldn't see any of her pictures. In the middle of the night, Helena woke up when she heard a loud scream. She had bolted out of bed and ran to the door. She peered into the hall and saw her mom and sister standing in the bathroom. Olivia was on her knees screaming and crying. Melissa was standing above her, covering her mouth with her hand. Melissa had noticed Helena in the hall and ran to her.
"Hel, let's go downstairs," Melissa insisted.
Before Helena could protest, her sister picked her up and carried her downstairs. Melissa put Helena on the couch and ran to the phone. She heard her sister starting to cry as she pressed three buttons and held the phone to her ear.
"Y-yeah. I, um," Melissa struggled to say into the phone. "I need an ambulance. It's my dad. He's...um..."
Helena looked at her sister, then back to the stairs. She could still hear her mother crying. Helena didn't know it, but it looked like the peaceful days were truly over.
Helena gagged a bit as she took another bite of the apple pie. The piece was a bit dry, a misshapen flake of crust that didn't go down her windpipe. She reached for the bottle of water and chugged it down, coughing once she felt she could breathe freely.
"Fuck you, Miss Liberty," she said.
For a moment, she thought of how awful it would be if the pie was what did her in. It was bad enough the people she spent her days studying Algebra and World History were trying to kill her, but for a pastry to do her in was just ridiculous. She let out one last cough and stared at the remainder of the pie on the plate.
"I'll show you..." she muttered to the pie before finishing the piece.
She let out a long sigh and groaned. Three pieces of pie was weighing her down. She hadn't even been in The Program for long and she was already tired. She then remembered that Hispanic people had something called a siesta, where they take a nap. Like the old expression, "When in Rome," except it's "When in Mexico."
Helena grabbed her bag, leaving the pie and all the dishes on the table, then made her way upstairs. There were a few small bedrooms in the house, and she took the first one she saw. It was still clean, with a small bed with a bright comforter on it. She made sure to close the door and prop a chair under it. Even if she did close and lock all the doors, anyone could come in.
She crawled under the covers and looked up to the ceiling. It was also unfamiliar, but maybe because it looked like the one downstairs she didn't mind it.
"Eh, let's stop looking at things."
Helena took her glasses off and put them on the nearby bedstand. She closed her eyes and rolled over. Maybe when she woke up, she wouldn't be in this place anymore. It was foolish, but maybe for once it would happen to her.
The rumbling in her stomach told her otherwise. She probably ate too much pie at once.
((Helena Christensen continued in The Life and Death of Helena Christensen, as Told in Eight Slices of Pie: Pt. 2))
She didn't think of this right away. After finishing her second piece, Helena needed to stretch a bit. She was still groggy from the drugs, and eating two pieces of a sweet apple pie started to weigh on her. She took some time to walk around the first floor of the house. She realized she hadn't secured the house so that she could enjoy her last meal, so she took this time to draw the curtains and lock every door.
Once she felt secure, she then stretched out on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. It was an unfamiliar ceiling; one that looked a lot like one back home, but still different. She wondered if the family that originally lived here thought it was normal or familiar. She wondered if people felt this discomforted staring at ceilings. Maybe she was still under the effect of those drugs.
After about an hour being a blob on a couch, she walked back to the table, prepared another piece of pie, and started to eat. That was when she started to think about her dad.
It was the day the family was dreading. Albert was being called away for military service. It was his second service, as he had spent his first one right after finishing college. She heard from her uncle years after Albert's death that Albert figured that going into service would be easier then finding employment after college. It didn't seem like a good idea in hindsight, if what followed was any indication.
Albert had about a month before he'd go. A month to somehow get everything in order. Helena remembered her family being very stressed in that time. Olivia and Melissa were both making lots of phone calls, hoping to find work of some kind. Albert's job had ensured they'd keep a comfortable lifestyle going. With him gone, they'd see an immediate dip in their savings. Olivia had very few qualifications and experience, having spent the last sixteen or so years being a housewife. She could continue her craft sales, but those wouldn't be much. Melissa found it much easier to find work, getting employed to work drive-thru at a Burger King. Melissa surely wouldn't complain about her check going to the entire family. She joked about how money lead to greed which lead to selfishness and anger, so she gladly forced her weekly paycheck into her mom's hand with no trouble.
By the time Albert was ready to go, things looked like they were getting better. Olivia found part-time work working front desk at a nearby hotel. It was long hours, and the pay wasn't that great, but it at least meant she could be with the girls during the day and work evenings. She and Melissa could trade hours with Helena left alone for at most thirty minutes each night. Plus, with their savings and some careful planning, they were sure to survive.
But there was something about it that wasn't so pleasing to Albert. Sure, there'd be a stipend for military service, but Albert kept stressing about leaving the women behind. Five years would be a long time. He'd miss Melissa's graduation. He'd miss Helena starting middle school. He even starting bringing up hypothetical scenarios he'd miss; Melissa getting married, Olivia hosting an art show, Helena competing in the Scripps National Spelling Bee, Melissa walking the Pacific Crest Trail, Olivia going back to school and graduating, even Helena receiving an award from the local police station for some act of heroism. It was all pretty ridiculous, something Helena heard her mom tell her father. But there was always something. Something to make Albert not want to leave.
Finally, the night before he was supposed to leave, everything seemed fine. The family had gone out for a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant they only went to for birthdays and anniversaries. They had all talked about what they were going to do while Albert was away. To Helena's surprise, Albert had a surprise for both girls. He handed them two boxes, each containing a new camera.
Albert had asked both girls to promise him something. While he was gone, far away, he wanted them to take pictures and send them to him. He wanted to see what they were doing, where they were going, what they noticed. He wanted their pictures to remind him of home, and to show him they were still okay. They could send the pictures whenever they could, as much as they wanted. Helena, being only 8 at the time, couldn't believe she'd have her own camera to use. She had gone to bed thinking of all the things she could take pictures of for her dad.
Unfortunately, Albert wouldn't see any of her pictures. In the middle of the night, Helena woke up when she heard a loud scream. She had bolted out of bed and ran to the door. She peered into the hall and saw her mom and sister standing in the bathroom. Olivia was on her knees screaming and crying. Melissa was standing above her, covering her mouth with her hand. Melissa had noticed Helena in the hall and ran to her.
"Hel, let's go downstairs," Melissa insisted.
Before Helena could protest, her sister picked her up and carried her downstairs. Melissa put Helena on the couch and ran to the phone. She heard her sister starting to cry as she pressed three buttons and held the phone to her ear.
"Y-yeah. I, um," Melissa struggled to say into the phone. "I need an ambulance. It's my dad. He's...um..."
Helena looked at her sister, then back to the stairs. She could still hear her mother crying. Helena didn't know it, but it looked like the peaceful days were truly over.
Helena gagged a bit as she took another bite of the apple pie. The piece was a bit dry, a misshapen flake of crust that didn't go down her windpipe. She reached for the bottle of water and chugged it down, coughing once she felt she could breathe freely.
"Fuck you, Miss Liberty," she said.
For a moment, she thought of how awful it would be if the pie was what did her in. It was bad enough the people she spent her days studying Algebra and World History were trying to kill her, but for a pastry to do her in was just ridiculous. She let out one last cough and stared at the remainder of the pie on the plate.
"I'll show you..." she muttered to the pie before finishing the piece.
She let out a long sigh and groaned. Three pieces of pie was weighing her down. She hadn't even been in The Program for long and she was already tired. She then remembered that Hispanic people had something called a siesta, where they take a nap. Like the old expression, "When in Rome," except it's "When in Mexico."
Helena grabbed her bag, leaving the pie and all the dishes on the table, then made her way upstairs. There were a few small bedrooms in the house, and she took the first one she saw. It was still clean, with a small bed with a bright comforter on it. She made sure to close the door and prop a chair under it. Even if she did close and lock all the doors, anyone could come in.
She crawled under the covers and looked up to the ceiling. It was also unfamiliar, but maybe because it looked like the one downstairs she didn't mind it.
"Eh, let's stop looking at things."
Helena took her glasses off and put them on the nearby bedstand. She closed her eyes and rolled over. Maybe when she woke up, she wouldn't be in this place anymore. It was foolish, but maybe for once it would happen to her.
The rumbling in her stomach told her otherwise. She probably ate too much pie at once.
((Helena Christensen continued in The Life and Death of Helena Christensen, as Told in Eight Slices of Pie: Pt. 2))
G014: Mayumi Tendou