Intruders 6yc23

INTRUDERS HALEY BENNETT

Table of Contents

Title Page

Intruders

Missing The Dead

Chapter 1 | *Dead Girl*

Chapter 2 | *Little Sister*

Chapter 3 | *He Strikes Again*

Chapter 4 | *Moments of Silence*

Chapter 5 | *Blood Simple*

Chapter 6 | *The Trap*

SHOUT AT THE DEVIL | JESSICA BARKLEY

THE SCARRED | TINA FORTH

CHAPTERS

HOW EVERYTHING STARTED 3

2. HIDDEN INTENTIONS 5

3. DIFFERENT BEHAVIOUR 7

4. DIFFERING 9

5. EVERYTHING IS DARK 12

6. THE NIGHT 16

HOW EVERYTHING STARTED

A rural house in the deeps of Mississippi doesn’t sound out of the ordinary, does it? Especially if the inhabitants are a lovely family consisting of a beautiful and caring mother, a hardworking man and a radiant young daughter. The owner of the house was the hardworking Ernest Wittmaier. He was the owner of one of the most popular convenience stores in his little town and came from a wealthy family. When Ernest was born his parents decided to leave New York city to raise their kid somewhere stress-free. They moved to the outskirts of a small town in Mississippi. They also bought a couple of properties that eventually became a chain of convenience stores. At the time the only ones in town. The stores quickly became successful, which lead the Wittmaiers to have even more money. Ernest grew up amongst luxury and was used to have the best. Unfortunately, at the age of 34, he lost his parents in a tragic car accident. After that Ernest was alone in the world for he had no family left, including siblings. Ernest inherited his parents big-beautiful house; the house that saw him grew up and become a man. The fancy- looking house was everything you could ask for, but with no one to share it with he preferred to stay away from it. So he started sleeping at the office of one of his convenience stores. Every day for a little more than 3 years Ernest avoided to sleep at his house. How did he do it? Well, he used to overload himself with work and used that as an excuse to stay at his office. He only went to his house once every two weeks to make sure things were fine and to give the house a clean. Aside from that, he avoided it at all cost. He got away with this lifestyle for quite a while until someone discovered his secret. Penelope Brown a rather new employee at his main store where he also happened to secretly live started noticing his behaviour. The young and beautiful girl who worked during the night shift noticed Ernest never left the store at night. She started asking questions to some of the employees who had the earliest morning shift; they told her that every time they arrived, no matter how early it was Ernest was already there. Penelope deducted that Ernest was lonely and decided to approach him. It wasn’t difficult for her to draw someone’s attention. Just a couple of days after the young lady’s approach,

he was head over heels and a month after knowing each other Ernest asked her to marry him. Everything was rather easy and smooth. Penelope moved away from her family home at the young age of 16. She needed no permission from her parents or from anybody to do what she wanted. Which meant Ernest never had to ask for her hand and they didn’t have to throw a magnificent party either. They got married in front of two witnesses and a priest. They moved to Ernest’s house right after their marriage and two years later they had a child. It was a beautiful girl who looked just like Penelope. They named the girl Olivia in honor to Ernest’s late mother. Everything seemed to have improved for Ernest and alongside his wife and daughter he was happy again.

HIDDEN INTENTIONS

A few years later, little Olivia was growing strong. She was 5 years old. She was a bright kid who had all her life ahead of her. Like most little girls Olivia was close to her mother but to everyone’s surprise, her personality was very different. She didn’t care about money or appearances, she wasn’t selfish or cold-hearted. Despite physically looking like her mom Olivia had her dad’s personality. Ernest’s feelings keep intact, the love he had for his daughter and his wife was unconditional but a little toxic. If times were different perhaps Ernest would have been diagnosed with some kind of mental illness. He suffered from intense depression, ever since his parents died. Things eventually got better thanks to Penelope and to Olivia but the issue was he never dealt with his problem. He focused so much on his wife and daughter, which most people would think it’s great but he was obsessed with them. He focused on them to try and avoid reality. The truth is that Penelope didn’t love him. That was obvious. Ever since they got married and she got all she wanted her attitude changed. She was no longer a sweetheart, she was rather indifferent. Ernest refused to believe Penelope didn’t love him. He tried everything in order to get Penelope’s affection back, ignoring he never had it in the first place. Many people tried to warn Ernest before marrying Penelope. He was told many things, not to marry her was an example. He ignored all comments including those who said Penelope was a gold digger. His desperation to have his life back in track led him to take bad decisions like marrying the first person he met or having a kid to try and save his marriage but Ernest was completely lost without Penelope and she knew it, that’s why she took advantage of the situation. She knew no matter what she did he wouldn’t leave her. Penelope who dated other men went out almost every night. Ernest didn’t suspect she was cheating on him. In his mind she was perfect. They pretended to be a happy family for their daughter during the day and after bedtime Penelope went out. But one night she didn’t come back. Turns out Penelope and her lover were hanging out with the wrong people. They tried to scam dangerous men and things didn’t work in their favor.

Penelope and her lover died in a tragic way. They were tortured and eventually killed. In an attempt to hide the evidence, the murderers took the corpses to the forest and tried to burn what was left of them. However, some campers that were around noticed something weird was going on. When the murderers realized people were coming they abandoned the scene. Two days after Penelope’s disappearance the police ed Ernest. They told him he needed to go identify the corpse. There was not much to identify for most of her was a burnt out shell, all her beauty, all her features, everything! But, there was something that survived, the jewels she was wearing that night. Once Ernest left the police station after having identified his wife’s corpse. He was a different man. He was angry and hated everything and everyone around him. He had to face what he tried to avoid all his life, loneliness. He was not ready for it.

DIFFERENT BEHAVIOUR

When life is not the same and things turn more difficult there are two options, you either come back stronger or you never come back. Ernest chose the second one. Olivia wasn’t told the truth about her mother’s death, her dad told her it had been a car accident. Being a young innocent girl she believed him. After all kids always believe what their parents say. Regardless from everything that happened she still stood strong. She was only 5 years old, it’s easier for young kids to assimilate and adapt to change. The problem was her dad. His behaviour became more erratic. Eventually, he stopped going to work and sold the company for millions. He thought work was getting in the way of raising his daughter and he didn’t trust anyone to be near Olivia. At the same time her dad sold his company, he also stopped sending Olivia to school. From that time Olivia was homeschooled and trained by her dad. Money was not a problem for them, they already had enough to live all their lives. All the things they needed such as food and house supplies were sent to them every week. Ernest had a deal with the people he sold the company to, they sent him and Olivia groceries every week. This was the perfect deal because they didn’t have to go out so often only in cases of emergency such as going to the doctor or the bank. Olivia was taught how to do everything by her dad. She was taught how to cook, iron, clean and do all house chores. She was taught how to change a tyre and fix a car. She was taught how to use a gun and how to hunt. Though hunting was an activity they only practiced two weekends a year. In the giant library they had at home there were many books on different skills, by reading them she learned many other things on her own. By the age of 10 she started making her own clothes and being totally efficient. Olivia was brighter and more talented than most kids, but perhaps being like the rest of the kids is what she needed. Her skin was looking paler and paler everytime. She tried to catch the sun whenever she went out but she was barely ever outside. She looked at the sun from her window everyday and tried to what it

felt like to play outside, to spend time with the rest of the kids, to swim in a river. She missed all those things and every time she spent too much time thinking about that her vibrant hazel eyes turned an ocean of sadness. There was nothing this house could hide. The marble floor, the giant windows, the expensive paintings, the millions of souvenirs from different places that once belonged to her paternal grandparents, the thousands books, not even all the rooms including the ones that had balcony with view to the ever-growing flowers in the garden could hide the sadness that possessed this house. Olivia knew that the very popular saying was right, money doesn’t equal happiness.

DIFFERING

When Olivia became a young woman her hair was no longer light and her honey colored eyes have turned sad. Her skin didn’t resemble that of Penelope anymore. She was as pale as snow. There were only a couple of things that made Olivia look like her mother. Her beautiful curly hair and her hourglass figure. However, her figure was always hidden by her baggy old-fashioned dresses. She always wore her grandma clothes that were two sizes bigger than her or the clothes that she did herself that normally weren’t perfectly tailored. Despite of all this Olivia was beautiful, there was no single doubt about it. Unfortunately, during her 18 years of life. No one ever complimented her appearance. Although, a monthly morning out with her father changed things. Olivia and Ernest had to go to the doctor, this was a thing they did once a month. Ernest was in his 60’s and a life of alcohol had caught up with him. He kept getting ill often. While Ernest was being examined by the doctor Olivia was in the waiting room. She was reading a book as her tangled curls covered her face. There was a young man looking at her from the distance, he was a tall, slim guy with hair until his shoulders and green eyes, a total charm! Olivia didn’t notice him, until he sat next to her. “ That’s a good book, isn’t it?” the young man said. Olivia slowly raised her head up in order to take a better look at the man. She got utterly shy and blushed as soon as she saw him. She never really spoke to anyone apart from her dad, the doctor, or the delivery man who brought them groceries every week. “What’s your name?” the man asked her, after a minute of silence she finally answered. “You’re very beautiful” he said. She froze as soon as she heard that. She never saw herself as beautiful, she didn’t even think someone could consider her attractive. She smiled at the young man and was about to answer when her dad came out of the room. “Let’s go Olivia” Ernest ordered her, she then grabbed her umbrella and her book in a clumsy manner. During the car trip she didn’t mention a single word. She was too busy thinking about the compliment the young man gave her and wondering what is name could be.

The same night during dinner Ernest asked her if the young man was bothering her but she said no. As they were having soup, Olivia asked him, “Dad, was mom beautiful?”. Ernest stopped eating and said “What you’re asking me is not okay! I’m not giving you an answer”. “Are there any pictures from her?” Olivia asked. “I’ve told you there are no pictures of your mom” Ernest answered. “Now, let’s drop this topic and go to our chambers” he ordered her. Olivia listened to him that night but she couldn’t stop thinking whether Ernest had been lying or not. He seemed very nervous when he spoke about the “nonexistent” pictures. She knew she had to start looking for answers around the house. The next days Olivia started to look around the house for a clue. She looked in most rooms except for one, her father’s. Olivia barely went to her father’s room without permission but she knew she needed to go there if she wanted to find something. A couple of weeks later her dad needed to go to the bank. Olivia always ed him for he didn’t want her to stay home alone. However, this time she would pretend to be ill so that she could stay home. After hours of faking a massive headache, Ernest decided to go on his own, promising Olivia that it won’t be long before he came back. The curious woman got up from her bed as soon as Ernest left and started searching in his room. She didn’t have to look for long, all she had to do was opening one his drawers and there she found some pictures of Penelope. Olivia grew furious and waited for Ernest to come so that she could confront him. As soon as he arrived he met Olivia's screams. He had to face the truth, his sweet lovely daughter was growing up. She was starting to act rebellious and there’s nothing he could do to avoid it. Olivia was fuming, she was threatening with moving out of the house. Ernest couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to do something he never wanted to do. Showing Olivia the report on her mother’s death. The angry young lady read the report and after doing so her attitude totally

changed. Her screams stopped and her tears dried out. She now seemed numb. Lifeless and almost in shock. For the next days, Olivia fell into a very weird state. She started developing paranoia. She no longer looked for excuses to go to the garden and look at the flowers, she didn’t want to go with her father to the doctors anymore, she didn’t want to go the bank.; all she cared about was being secluded at home. She didn’t even look through the windows anymore, she was afraid someone would recognize her and hurt her. Despite noticing his daughter’s mental state was becoming worse day after day Ernest did nothing. It was convenient for him having Olivia to feel this way. Though Olivia wasn’t going out anymore, this certainly wasn’t enough for Ernest. He wanted to be with her 24/7 to make sure nothing would happen to her. He stopped going to the bank, he stopped going to the doctors and never left his house anymore. Both of them were self-confined to 4 walls.

EVERYTHING IS DARK

Five years later Ernest’s health deteriorated. He was suffering from cirrhosis and his clock was ticking. He looked at Olivia and notice how gaunt she was. He couldn’t help but thinking it all has been his fault. She was no longer a kid, she was a 25 year old woman who lost all her love for life. Ernest realized he made a huge mistake with Olivia. She was going through something similar and even worse to what happened to Ernest when his parents died. When he closed himself from everything but work and eventually that led him to be with someone like Penelope. He didn’t want his daughter to meet the same end, or even worse. A life of loneliness. Ernest tried to convince Olivia to go to the doctors but she didn’t agree. Just the thought of being outside made her feel sick. Being in a place full of people made her uneasy, just thinking about it she felt unsafe to the point she had difficulties breathing. Although she refused to go out he knew she needed to see a doctor as soon as possible. He ed the person who used to be his doctor long ago and offered him a good amount of money for a house visit; the man accepted. Dr. Jones went to visit the Wittmaiers with his assistant Vlad. When they got in they couldn’t help but being impressed looking at the beautiful looking house. One thing about Olivia and Ernest was that no matter how scruffy they looked themselves the house was always impeccable. Always clean, always tidy, always pretty. The doctor examined Ernest first because he was looking bad. Unfortunately, Ernest had been too long without medication and treatment, he had gotten worse and he will soon die. Ernest shared his worries to the doctor. He had lived long enough, he was ready to face death, the problem was Olivia. He explained to the doctor everything about their lifestyle, the doctor immediately knew both of them were not alright mentally. Dr. Jones then called Olivia who was in the living room with Vlad. She went to her room with Dr. Jones who was about to find out a proper diagnose for her. In her room Olivia answered to all of his questions. She explained how nervous

she felt even thinking about the possibility of going out and how she hasn’t left the house in 5 years. After Dr. Jones spoke to her he went back to speaking to Ernest and explained him what his daughter was going through. She was suffering from Agoraphobia. Ernest was confused, he had never heard of that before. Dr. Jones carefully explained: “Agoraphobia is a type of anxiety disorder in which you fear and avoid places or certain situations. Olivia has been told her whole life her house is the only safe place in the world, she was forced to stay home for many years, finding out what happened her mother was the final straw. Now Olivia is constantly afraid she’s going to end up like her mother or like her grandparents if she ever goes out”. Dr. Jones promised to come twice a week to see Olivia and Ernest. He also promised to keep helping Olivia with treatment to improve her condition even if Ernest died. Dr. Jones and Vlad started doing their weekly visits. During the visits Vlad would help Dr. Jones with Ernest. However, when it was time to treat Olivia, he wasn’t allowed to help. In the meantime he had to find a way to entertain himself, this could be by speaking to Ernest, reading a book from the magnificent library or by walking around the garden. Vlad was well aware of Ernest’s condition but he had no idea about Olivia’s. He constantly asked the doctor for information but he never gave Vlad details. There are many words to describe Vlad but professional is not one of them. The only reason why he had that job was due to his late father Dr. Kuznetsov. Jones had promised Kuznetsov he would look after his son, that’s the only reason why Vlad had any job at all. One Wednesday evening Dr. Jones received a call from someone, it was Olivia. She informed Dr. Jones that her father was unconscious. Jones rushed to the scene to find a dead Ernest. There was not much to do, Ernest had been sick for a while and they all knew the day will eventually come. Olivia was very sad and overwhelmed. Dr. Jones told her he would keep helping her with her treatment for Agoraphobia, especially now her father had ed away for he was worried her condition would get worse. Olivia explained the doctor how she couldn’t do anything regarding funeral

organization, she asked Dr. Jones for help to organize a nice funeral for her dad and then bury him somewhere. He suggested cremation but Olivia immediately said no. “Flames shall only be used on the evil” she said. Jones didn’t get this reference, he thought she was quoting some religion verse he had no idea of and let it go. Jones who had appreciation for both Olivia and her father accepted her request. The following Friday Dr. Jones was working on the final details regarding Ernest’s funeral. It was weird to have a doctor being so involved on a patient’s personal life but he always kept his promises. As he worked Vlad showed up to work. Jones informed Vlad about Ernest Wittmaier and invited him to his funeral that was going to be held on Saturday. The funeral and burial were going to be in another town four hours away from where they live, due to distance and other factors the people assisting the funeral had to stay the night at the other town. However, Vlad had other plans; he denied the invitation claiming he couldn’t spend the whole weekend there. The same evening Vlad ed his friend Mike. He was a lazy person who was looking for an easy way to get some cash, just like Vlad. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?” asked Vlad. “Not particularly. Why?” Mike said. “Do we have somewhere to go?” he continued. “A house that is totally unbelievable!” Vlad answered. “The house is going to be totally empty because the owner just died and his family is going to be away because of the funeral, it’s the perfect plan!” Vlad happily affirmed. Vlad had no idea about Olivia’s condition so he didn’t know she wasn’t going to be away. The thieves prepared everything. They were going to visit the house on Saturday night. They thought this mission was going to be as easy as the other ones. That night was Olivia’s second night being alone at her house. Nevertheless,having such big place for herself brought her no joy at all. She looked through the window in order to fall asleep but sadly did not succeed. Although she was used to being in her house and having little with people, she had never really experienced complete solitude.

The house was so silent it was making her anxious. She missed the Jazz music her dad used to play at night and his loud snores. She stood up and decided to go to his dad’s room. She started crying while she tried to wipe away her tears using one his dad’s pillows. She had the idea of reading the police report on her mother’s death once again which never helped. It always made her feel worse than she felt before but she thought reading something that wasn’t the books from the library she had read a thousand times would help. Reading something so graphic was always sad. Everytime she read the report her imagination got more vivid than ever. She started to picture every gruesome detail on her head; how the killers denailed her mom, how they burned her with cigars, how eventually they threw gasoline over her and then a cigar. There was no doubt what Penelope had been through was utterly evil. Olivia was full of hate. She knew evil existed and even though she was safe in her house, she knew it was out there. Her thoughts turned darker and darker until she found herself considering to kill whoever that tried to hurt her. She started having bad feelings, almost as if her intuition was telling her something bad was about to happen. For the first time she felt as if she was in danger by being in her home, but leaving wasn’t an option. She did the only thing she thought she could do, being prepared for the worst. Olivia didn’t sleep that night. She was busy trying to gather as many things as she could that would come handy. She changed her long feminine dresses for some of her father’s clothes. She grabbed a pair of scissors and while she was in front of the mirror she cut her locks until her hair was way before her shoulders. She eventually fell asleep on Saturday morning.

THE NIGHT

Saturday had come. Vlad and Mike were more than ready to carry on their plan. They waited until it was dark enough; since it was winter they didn’t have to wait long. They grabbed Vlad’s van in order to take as many things as they could. After a 30 minute drive from the town they finally got to Olivia’s house. Olivia who was deep in her sleep didn’t hear the car arriving. The men first walked around the house making sure nobody was there. Seeing all the lights off seemed good enough for them so they decided to make a move. The men tried to open the door but it wasn’t as simple as they thought. To open the front door they needed to drill out not one but two different locks. They spent a total of 15 minutes trying to break in without being successful. Mike who was very short-tempered suggested to break a window in order to get inside the house. He looked for a big stone in the garden and then threw it. Olivia heard the noise. She immediately jumped out of bed when she heard it. Without turning on the lights she stood up and looked through the window, she recognized the van immediately, it was Vlad’s van. At first she thought he might be there because of something related to the funeral but once she heard some noises already in the house she understood what was happening. It was hard to see but she knew she couldn’t turn on the lights otherwise she would be seen. Although she was prepared to defend herself she was frightened. It was definitely the scariest situation she ever had to face, the situation her dad trained her for. She grabbed a gun and a knife she had on the drawer next to her dad’s bed, she put the knife in her pocket but kept the gun in her hands. She decided to go and check while barefeet not to make any noise. She had left the door open so it was easy to get out of the room. Once she was out she stayed on the third floor to observe everything from there. Tracking the men wasn’t difficult they were being very loud. As soon as they came in, they turned on the lights of the first floor which made easy for Olivia to see them but taking advantage of her high position they couldn’t see her. The men decided to go upstairs and check the rest of the house. As they went to the second floor and turned on the lights Olivia knew she had to do something otherwise she would be caught. What the men didn’t seem to have noticed is that

the house actually had two sets of stairs, the main ones that were rather notorious and some hidden ones that were located in a room on the third floor where Olivia’s dad kept memoirs. Olivia crawled to that room, opened and closed the door carefully and then went downstairs. She had a clear objective...turning off the electricity. In the basement Olivia used her knife to cut some of the cords. It was a dangerous and drastic decision but she knew she couldn’t just switch things off otherwise the men would find a way to get the electricity back. After she cut the electricity she knew what she had to do next. The night before when she stayed awake she had put some traps around the house, one of them consisted of a hunting net that was activated if someone was about to open the library, the other would be activated if someone opened her room. Since the men were still upstairs she decided to go back there in case the trap in her room got activated. She tried to rush in order to get there but as she was on the second floor she heard screaming noises. “Shit!” and “Help me” she kept hearing. She smiled and ran upstairs hoping to find both men captured but as soon as she got close to her room something hit her from the back making her fall to the ground. Only one of the men had fallen for the trap, the ever clumsy Vlad. While Olivia was on the floor Mike tried to grab her. She struggled with him but he was too powerful. She saw no other option but to use the knife she was holding, she stabbed Mike on the shoulder and managed to escape. She used the main stairs to get to the basement thinking this would make Mike believe she was on the first floor. Nevertheless, she went back upstairs using the hidden stairs. As expected Mike had moved out of there. Vlad, however, still hanged from the trap. Thought it was difficult to see Olivia still had an advantage. She knew the house like the back of her hand. She knew it was her time to take Vlad down and she knew she had to be fast and precise. Olivia stood up as close to Vlad as she could, he could tell someone was coming. “Mike? Mikey, is that you?” he anxiously asked. “No, it isn’t” the young lady replied. “Olivia, I’m sorry. I am not here to hurt you, I promise! But please, let me out” He begged.

“There’s only one thing you deserve” Olivia said back at him. “What is it?” were his last words before Olivia fatally shot him 3 times. Mike heard the shots and rushed to the third floor, Olivia could hear him coming, his insults constantly gave away his location. If Vlad wasn’t the smartest Mike clearly wasn’t better. Instead of escaping from Olivia he decided to look for her. He could have saved himself but losing against someone wasn’t an option, especially if that person was a woman. Mike always wanted to have the last word, he always wanted to be the best. No matter how dangerous the situation was. But that night there was something different. He wasn’t the strongest, he wasn’t the most furious. For the first time he had to battle someone who was willing to fight back. Losing this fight was not on Olivia’s plans. The insecure girl full of fears was still there, Olivia had not conquered all of her fears. She knew the easiest option was escaping from the house by grabbing her dad’s car from the garage or even just running away as fast as she could, but these options scared her more than the thought of having to kill someone. After all, she had already done it. She had fought the evil guys. She had managed what no one in her family ever did not being the victim. A sudden adrenaline started running through her body. Despite looking weak and being unfit she felt better than ever. Her mind was both spaced out and clear. She not only wanted to defend herself she was seeking for revenge. Revenge for her grandparents killed on the accident by a stranger who fled the scene, revenge for her mother’s gruesome death, revenge for her father’s and in a way revenge for herself. Olivia had lost everything and lacked life experiences but she knew there was one thing worse than having a life of solitude at her house and that was not having a life at all. No matter where she was in the house she could always hear where Mike was. He kept threatening Olivia by saying awful things. She decided to make another move; she went to the second floor where she had left a shotgun. Afterwards, she proceed to open the wardrobe where she left the shotgun. Unfortunately, some things from the wardrobe fell over creating a loud noise in the house. She grabbed the shotgun and moved quickly but Mike was quicker. By the time she left the room the two of them bumped each other. As she fell to the ground, the

shotgun flew to the first floor. Olivia tried to stand up but Mike managed to grab her feet. “I got you, you little punk” the 30 year old man said. She tried to break free but he was stronger. “You should have never done that” Mike added as he grabbed a knife he had been carrying. He tried to stab Olivia’s leg but failed. The knife only managed to hit part of the loose pants she was wearing. Both of them reached for the knife, luckily, Olivia got it first. Mike immediate reaction was to jump over Olivia. Fortunately, she kicked his face making him unconscious before he got to hurt her. As Mike was on the floor Olivia made sure he wasn’t going to stand up. She used the two knives in her position to stab both of his feet. She then dragged him to the first floor. She did the same with Vlad’s corpse. Once she finished dragging Mike’s unconscious body and Vlad’s dead one, she placed both of them in the middle of the living room. She sat on her favorite couch and started thinking. She knew she had won, but she needed to do something else, she needed to kill Mike and make him suffer. Killing Mike was not a problem, she was looking forward to it. The problem was hiding the corpses. She knew she couldn’t keep them home without the smell giving them away. She needed to burn the sinners, but the question was how? If she burned them inside the house, the house will certainly burn as well and if she burned them outside that meant going out, thing that scared her to death. She thought and thought for hours. The clock kept ticking, it was already past midnight. She had to hurry to do everything, including cleaning before Dr. Jones arrived to her house on Sunday to give her details about the funeral. After much hesitation and anxiety, she had the courage to do what was best. She decided to finish with everything once and for all, at the same time she erased her memories and everything from her life. She poured some gasoline that her father used to keep in the garage all over the house. She then waited until Mike was conscious again, it was already 3 in the morning. Between insults and screams from Mike she left the house. Once in the garden, she threw a match at her house and saw it slowly burn. She ired the flames from outside as she shivered and eventually ed out. Hours later she woke up at the hospital with Dr. Jones by her side. Olivia

informed Jones and the police that Vlad and Mike tried to steal from her house. She then said an accident must had happened and that led to the fire. Everyone believe the beautiful young woman, she looked so vulnerable, plus, the way she told the story sounded so believable. After she got better, Olivia was taken to Dr. Jones. Eventually, the doctor and the young lady got married. They were together for 6 months until Dr. Jones mysteriously died. Olivia still lives in Dr. Jones house which is all for herself now, she never has visits, she never goes out and most important nobody know what she has done.

DEVILISH

DEBBIE DORIN

CHAPTER ONE Jesse James Hewitt never knew when the violence would come. He never thought about it. He just used violence as a tool to get his way. He wasn't like other serial killers who stalked their victims and preplanned their attacks. Jesse's victims were random, in all shapes, sizes and colors. That is how he stayed under the radar. But his hair trigger temper could go off at any time. Right now, as he parked the stolen Toyota Camry in front of the corner grocery store, he felt happy. He had a little money in his pocket and for the next week had a place to stay at his uncle's pad. Jesse James did, in fact, look like a modern Jesse James. He wore flared out jeans with a leather vest over a blue denim shirt. He ditched the skin head look years ago and instead grew his hair out long, a tousled mop of brown curls that he rarely combed. He had ice blue eyes that charmed many a woman until they got to know the man behind the eyes and soon felt repulsed. Jesse walked into the store and noticed the young Asian kid leafing through the latest X-men in front of the comic rack. He approached the young man, startling him as he craned his neck to look at his comic book cover. “The New Mutants are back!” Jesse said. “Teee haaaawwww!!!” Walking through the store, Jesse whistled in tune with the Taylor Swift swing that played on the overhead radio. Bored, he picked up a loaf of Wonderbread off the shelf then tossed it aside. Heading toward the beverage aisle, he reached inside the glass and picked up a bottle of his favorite drink. Chocolate Yoo-Hoo. He ripped off the lid and guzzled the contents down, the chocolate milk dripping off the side of his mouth.

Belching loud, he drifted over to the second of the three store aisles, grabbing a box of chocolate donuts. His thick fingers ripped through the plastic, breaking off a piece of a donut. Jesse looked out at the store front window as a police car sped down the street, sirens blaring. Another squad car followed, then another. “Uh oh,” Jesse cried out. “The natives are restless.” Jesse tossed a chunk of the chocolate donut into his mouth before placing the box on the cashier's counter. An Ethiopian girl, no more than twenty years old, gave him a courtesy smile which quickly disappeared. She had caramel-colored skin and had dyed her hair blonde, leaving the tips dark brown. Her name tag read 'Naomi'. “Hi,” Jesse said. “You find everything okay?” she asked. “Definitely,” he said, eyeballing the slim young woman up and down. “Anybody ever tell you that you look like Jessica Alba?” “Who?” “You know, the actress. Full lips. Beautiful face. If she were black, you'd look just like her. Or maybe she'd look just like you.” “I don't know who you're talking about,” Naomi said. “That's charming,” he said. “Where are you from?” “Ethiopia.” “I would have guessed Eritrea,” he said, guzzling down the Yoo-Hoo. “I need to scan it,” she said, holding her hand out. “Oh right,” he said, handing the bottle to the young woman. “Do you like your job?”

“Will this be all, sir?” Naomi asked, ignoring his question. “No,” Jesse said. “You're a beautiful girl and I'm really interested in how you got here and where you're going. What time do you get off?” “When do I get off?” “As often as you can, right?” Jesse laughed loud. Naomi rolled her eyes. He looked back at the storefront window. “Open twenty-four seven. How about you? Are you open twenty-four seven?” “Is this your best game?” “You couldn't handle my game with a referee and a whistle.” Naomi punched buttons on the cash . “That will be five dollars.” “Think about it,” he said. “You. Me. A glass of scotch in front of a warm fire.” “I don't think so.” “Can you look me in the eye when you say that?” Naomi complied with his request, her facial expression annoyed. “I'll say this real slow so that you can understand. I. Don't. Think. So.” “I have to take you out,” Jesse said. “Sometimes, you meet a person and you just know, do you know what I mean, baby?” “Five dollars, asshole.” “Asshole,” Jesse said, his eyes flickering from lust to hatred. “Is that what I am?” “Sometimes you meet a person and you just know, do you know what I mean?” “I just hate it,” Jesse said, pulling out his gun. “When people come to this country.”

He fired into the girl's stomach. “And they don't see that I'm a local boy that made good.” Jesse grabbed his box of donuts and headed out of the store, leaving Naomi writhing in pain on the floor. The Asian boy dropped the comic and cowered in fear. Jesse sneered at the young man then feinted as if he were about to shoot him. “Boo!” The Asian kid bolted out of the store, running across the street and into traffic. Horns blared. “Run!” Jesse laughed, blowing the coils of smoke away from his gun. “Run, China Boy, Run!” CHAPTER TWO Kelly had walked up and down the liquor aisle for over a half-hour now. Usually, there would be someone in his face asking if he needed help. But this storekeeper seemed content to watch the television up on the corner wall. An obese woman with tinted eyeglasses she stared up at the television screen oblivious to her surroundings. Kelly knew the feeling. He felt like everything around him was television and that he was an uncredited player in the script. His emotions felt as if they were trapped in quicksand, his tumultuous childhood traumatizing his brain into an endless loop of bad memories. A permanent nightmare. Kelly thought he looked inconspicuous. He wore a Golden State Warriors baseball cap and a long black trench coat two sizes too big. Wire-rimmed glasses covered his face which he always kept downcast, giving him the look of a schoolyard pervert. Underweight and undersized, Kelly cultivated the creepy look. It kept people away from him. “I can't do it,” he muttered. “I can't fucking do it.”

He went up and down the aisle again but this time he grabbed the bottle of 'two buck Chuck' and hid it inside his trench coat. “You can do it,” he hissed. “Just fucking do it.” He turned down the aisle again. “No, I can't,” Kelly placed the bottle back on the shelf. “What the fuck are you doing?” Jesse asked, blocking the path of the young man. “Excuse me?” “You don't want the booze?” “No, sir.” “What's wrong with it.” “I'm trying to give it up.” “Everybody's trying to give something up,” Jesse said, taking the bottle of Two Buck Chuck back off the shelf. “That's why everybody is so damn miserable. You gotta do the things you love!” Kelly looked over at the cashier who sat oblivious to their conversation. He saw that her name tag read 'Rosie'. “See this?” Jesse asked, holding up the bottle of Chocolate Yoo-hoo. “My dentist says I have to stop drinking these. Causes a bunch of cavities. And heart disease. But I can't stop myself. Tastes too damn good. Want to try?” Kelly shook his head. Jesse took another swig of his chocolate then eyeballed the wine bottle. “2014. Vintage! You like the old stuff?” “Yes, sir.” Jesse popped open the cork. “Here,” he said, extending the bottle to Kelly. “Try

it.” Kelly looked away, a nervous tic in his neck. “What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” “No, sir.” “You got issues,” Jesse said, watching Kelly twitch as he started to back down the aisle. “What's wrong now?” Jesse asked. Kelly backed into a Mexican woman with a cart full of six packs. She looked to be nine months pregnant. “Damn, mamacita,” Jesse said as the woman walked by. “Way to start the kid off right.” “Chinga tu madre,” the woman said. “Adios, amiga,” Jesse rolled his eyes, walking toward Kelly. “You see, that is what I'm talking about. Poor kid has a mother that is boozing it up and he isn't even out of the womb yet. He's got no chance, that kid. Starting off life behind the eight-ball with a mother like that, right?” Kelly nodded his head in agreement. “Come on,” Jesse said, motioning Kelly to follow him. “You're a cool dude. Good listener. Sometimes you look at somebody and you just know, you know what I mean?” The two stepped over to the cashier who never took her eye off the television. A game of Jeopardy was on. Jesse handed the woman a $20 bill for the $15 bottle. “Here you are, ma'am,” he said. “Keep the change.” The cashier rolled her eyes.

“I think you and I are on the same frequency,” Jesse said, leading Kelly out of the store. “Are you from the Bay Area?” “No sir,” Kelly said. “Well, we don't have that in common. But that's okay.” He handed the bottle of wine to Kelly. “Are there houses of ill-repute where you're from?” “What's that?” “No worries, buddy, no worries,” Jesse said. “I'm going to show you the time of your damn life. Gonna be like two sailors out on leave. That's right. That's just what we're going to do.” The cashier turned her head away from the television as a news report came on. The reporter talked about a serial killer on the loose. White male, black baseball cap and glasses. Rosie paid no mind to the broadcast, she walked to the front door and flipped over the closed sign. The West Oakland sky had darkened, leaving blood orange hues of pollution on the horizon. “Look at this shit,” Jesse said as they walked down the street outside the liquor store. He shook his head as he gazed upon the abandoned storefronts and houses covered in graffiti. “Street art, my ass. Bunch of crap. Broken windows. Broken condoms. Broken lives. The fuck is wrong with these people?” Kelly looked unnerved as the light in front of them turned red. “Come on,” Jesse said, crossing against the light. “What are you a Boy Scout?” Kelly squinted as he looked up at the red light. “Let's go, dude.” The light turned green and he continued to follow Jesse, not knowing why.

“Where you parked?” Jesse asked. “I don't have a car.” “You walked? This is a dangerous place for a white boy. I mean we can walk down the streets here in Oakland and nothing will happen to us. Maybe. But absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence. We walk around here long enough someone will try and rob us. That's why we have to stick together. Can't be walking around alone, just one white boy against ten of them-” “I take the bus,” Kelly said. “I have a disability.” “Disability? What kind?” “Mental.” “Like, you see psychiatrists and shit?” “Yes, sir.” “Are you crazy?” “No, sir. I just see and dream about things. And I do things. Sometimes I can't if it was real or a dream.” “But you do see a psychiatrist?” “Yes, sir.” “They worth the money?” “County pays for it. Plus I get a free bus .” “Right on,” Jesse said. “Hey, if everyone else in this city gets freebies so can we. People around here are so ugly they make my eyes hurt. They can give them all the welfare they want as long as I don't have to see them. Man, if I were president I would change things, that's for shit-sure. I would test out bioweapons here. You know, chemicals and shit. Release it into the atmosphere, turn these assholes into mutants. Kinda like the Island of Dr. Moreau. It would be awesome.”

“Yes, sir.” “Well, will you look at that.” The two stop in front of a parked Mercedes. Jesse pointed at the bumper sticker that read “Co-Exist” and “Peace.” “See that's what I'm talking about,” Jesse said. “Can you believe this shit? Perfectly good German car and they put all that shit on there. Co-exist? Muslims are taking over our damn country and we got assholes with bumper stickers promoting-” Working himself into a fury, Jesse kicked in the rear brake light before finishing his sentence. The car alarm went off and startled Kelly. “Teee haaaawww!” Jesse said, smashing in the other brake light. “Come on!” Kelly followed Jesse as they ran over to a dilapidated Toyota Camry across the street. The license plate read BAD AZZ. “This is me,” Jesse said, walking to the enger side door and unlocking it. “Saw the license plate and just had to have it.” “I can't go with you, sir.” “Why not? I think you're cool.” “I don't know you, sir.” “I ain't a fag. Do you think I'm a fag?” “No, sir.” “Well, let's do this,” Jesse reached into his back holster and took out his gun, taking the clip out and then shoving it back in. “Now get in the fuckin' car and let's get rowdy like good sailors should.” Kelly nodded and got into the vehicle.

“Nice to see you changed your mind,” Jesse said, hiding the gun in his back pocket again. “Only fools and the dead never changed their mind.” CHAPTER THREE Jesse drove down the street like a maniac, alternately speeding up then slowing down. He swerved in front of cars, flipping the bird indiscriminately. Kelly stared straight ahead looking scared shitless. “Look man, I didn't mean to pull the gun on you,” Jesse said. “I promised you a good time, right? We gonna get some whores. Show you what a cool guy I am. How's that sound?” Kelly shrugged his shoulders. “The Warriors ain't playing tonight,” Jesse pointed at Kelly's baseball cap. “You watch the game last night?” “No.” “Me neither,” Jesse said. “Shit, why do that when you can go out and get some poontang, you know what I mean?” Jesse looked out the side window and saw a blonde woman walking down the street. Dressed in business attire, her suit did little to conceal her figure. “Holy shit!” Jesse slowed the vehicle down. “Curves for days!” The woman turned her head and looked at the men staring at her. “Hey darlin'” Jesse said. Rolling her eyes, the woman turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. “Well, fuck you then,” Jesse laughed. “We could have you cumming instead of going, ain't that right, friend?” Looking up ahead, Jesse saw a brunette walking, her eyes focused on her cell phone.

“Hot, hot, hot,” Jesse said. “All these young Cal students out here sometimes. Usually trying to score some dope. What is your type? Me? I don't really have a type. I like them all really. Tall, short. Big ass. Little ass. I just like pulling girls hair. That's what gets me off. It's primal, you know. Doggy style.” They slow down and see a prostitute up ahead. She's blonde, very tall and leaning up against the pole of a bus stop. Upon seeing Jesse's car slowing down, she twirled around the pole, like a stripper. “Here we go,” Jesse lowered his voice. “Think we might have a live one here.” Jesse stopped the vehicle next to the woman who poked her head in on the enger side. “Hey boys, you need a date?” Her face had pock-marks, as if she had small-pox. Her half-lidded jaundice eyes a dead giveaway of her crack whore status. Jesse slammed on the gas. “Good God! Did you see that? I've seen ugly but goddamn! And she had no teeth! Then again she doesn't need teeth for what she does!” Jesse looked over at Kelly and noticed him staring at a different brunette up ahead. The girl stood with her arms crossed, emphasizing her ample cleavage. “There you go,” Jesse said. “There you go.” He stopped the car in front of the woman. Upon closer inspection, her hair was dark blonde with brown streaks. A light skinned Latina, with full lips and green eyes. In her mid-twenties, she smiled wide as Jesse drove up. “Two good looking guys in here. How's it going?” “Will you do the things she won't?” Jesse asked.

“I'm the girl your mami and your papi warned you about,” she said. Her voice breathy, with an accented lilt, like a breeze combing through dry leaves on a hot summer night. “What's good on the menu?” “That depends on how hungry you boys are,” the woman said, reaching down and grabbing Kelly's crotch on 'hungry.' Kelly shuddered in fear. “My friend over here is starving,” Jesse laughed. “As in he has not had a meal in years, if you catch my drift.” “Well, there will be plenty on the plate for both of you.” “Hop in, mamacita,” Jesse said. Kelly watched as the woman got into the car. His heart began to pound and his throat began to feel parched, her sweet perfume quickly filling the vehicle. Reminding him of his mother. CHAPTER FOUR “My name is Maricela,” she said from the backseat, looking over at Kelly on the enger side. Kelly said nothing, holding the wine bottle to his chest and pursing his lips. “Is he mute?” Maricela asked Jesse. “Or deaf?” “He doesn't open up until he really trusts someone,” Jesse said. “He's smart that way. Do you always judge people?” “I'm not judging,” Maricela said. “Just asked him a damn question.” “Now you're trying to make him feel bad,” Jesse said. “You're supposed to make us feel good. Make me and him feel like kings. Right, Kelly?” Jesse reached over and playfully hit Kelly in the arm.

“I'll do that and more,” Maricela said. “Damn skippy,” Jesse said. “Tee haaawww!” “You're not high are you?” she asked. “I'm high on life,” Jesse said. “Hangin' with my homie here and about to bust a nut on a fine ass Latina.” “Well, thank you, handsome.” “Here,” Jesse reached over and took the wine bottle out of Kelly's hand. “Let's get this party started.” Kelly grabbed the wine back, agitated. “I didn't mean what I said,” Maricela said to Kelly, running her fingers through the hair underneath his cap. “You seem nice. And cute. Sometimes you just know, you know what I mean? You look at someone and you get a feeling about them. It is a survival trait among us escorts.” Kelly pulled back then gave in to the woman's touch. “There you go,” Jesse said. “My friend here is an introvert. Just takes some time before he opens up to you.” “I've seen it all, dude, believe me,” Maricela said. “There was this guy the other night who wanted me to shave off his chest hair. And there was this other dude that wanted me to take out this dildo he had shoved up his ass. When I took it out, the dildo was still vibrating.” “Sick fucker,” Jesse said. “What a sick fuck.” “Can you imagine shoving a dildo up your ass and than calling an escort to fish it out?” Maricela asked. “My imagination can't go that far,” Jesse said. “Maybe he called one escort to put it in and then called another to take it out?” Kelly asked.

“There you go,” Jesse said. “See? He needs to get to know you before he talks.” “There's my place,” Kelly said, pointing in the distance. The television was already on when the trio stepped inside. A news reporter held up a bottle of Charles Shaw wine, explaining how forensics determined the amount of poison that a serial killer used to murder his victims. “Nice!” Jesse said as he entered Kelly's house. Faded flowered prints marked the wallpaper but Kelly had no pictures or paintings, only one mirror in the center of the living room. Maricela walked over to the mirror, dabbing her make-up and adjusting her cleavage. “This is a nice place, friend,” Jesse said. “I can spend lots of time up in here. We can watch TV, play video games, shoot the shit. Do you have an X-Box? My kind of place here.” Kelly said nothing as he entered the kitchen and set the wine bottle down, halflistening as Jesse continued to jabber on. On the counter, he saw the rat poison and weed killer boxes next to the wine bottle. He quickly grasped the incriminating evidence and shoved them into his trench coat. “Not a bad view,” Jesse said, opening than closing the window curtain. “This place is what blue collar is supposed to look like. Nothing fancy. Just warm coziness. This is America! Shit man, we should go out and get an apple pie to go with that wine.” “You sound like a politician,” Maricela said. “I am the King,” Jesse said. “A king. Have you ever been to L.A.? “Yeah, I go down south sometimes.” “I was there last month. Hollywood. What a bunch of freaks! I went there thinking I could get away from all these Occupy Idiots and what happens? I get caught up in their protest! Wanted to shoot every one of those tree-hugging

bitches!” Kelly placed the poison inside a cabinet and tried to step back out of the kitchen when Jesse stepped in front of him. “Freakin' idiots!” Jesse screamed in Kelly's face. “Do you know what I mean? These fuckers should go out and get a damn job. Am I right?” “Right,” Kelly nodded his head. “That's right, buddy,” Jesse said, sidestepping Kelly and entering the kitchen. “What kind of grub you got, man?” Jesse ignored the ant trail on the counter and opened the refrigerator. “What kind of goodies do we have going on in here?” Kelly crossed and uncrossed his arms, looking nervous. “Nice!” Jesse said. “Hey man, there is only one ice cream flavor in the world. Only one. Care to guess?” Kelly shook his head. Jesse took out an ice cream carton from the freezer in triumph. “Vanilla! Damn, we have a lot in common.” Jesse opened up one of the drawers and grabbed a spoon. “Come on,” Jesse said. “Let's get the party started.” The two walked back into the living room. Maricela has her shirt off, standing there wearing nothing but a black bra and jeans. “Wow,” Jesse said. “You like?” “Nice artwork,” Jesse's eyes scanned up and down Maricela's tattooed body. A snake went down her left arm and she had pentagrams on both shoulders.

“You're a devil woman.” “I got into the occult in college,” Maricela said, looking down at her own tattoos. “Did a mid-term paper on this occult in Mexico then I got interested in the stuff. This one here is the eye of horus.” Maricela pointed down at her belly-button, the Egyptian symbol of protection inked on her stomach. “So gentleman,” she said. “Are we going one at a time or is this a threesome?” “My friend here goes first,” Jesse said, scooping out a spoonful of the ice cream and letting holding it out to Maricela. “Let's make it special.” Maricela wrapped her lips around the spoon, sucking off the ice cream as she sat down on the chair behind her. “No,” Kelly squealed. Maricela sprang out of the seat. “Not that chair!” he yelled. Maricela stepped away from the chair and gave Jesse a startled look. “Are you sure he's alright?” “I said don't judge him,” Jesse said before taking a few steps back with the young man. “You hearing voices?” “Loud and clear,” Kelly said. “Alright now,” Jesse said. “That's nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud of that. Been hearing voices all your life and you're still here. You're a damn soldier.” “I am?” “Hell fucking yeah,” Jesse said. “But she'll help you get rid of those voices, okay?” Jesse patted Kelly on the back before heading into the kitchen.

“Relax, dude,” Maricela whispered. Kelly slowly turned his back to the young woman but she spun him around gently. “It is really easy,” Maricela said, taking Kelly by the hand. “First timers are my specialty.” She lead him to the chair to sit down and he shuddered. “Easy,” Maricela said. “We don't have to do it there.” She placed her hands on both of his shoulders and led him over to the couch. Kelly sat down, eyes downcast. Maricela played with unbuckling his belt until he turned away. “Okay, okay, we can do other things.” She let the strap of her bra fall down off her shoulder. Kelly looked up with painful shyness, licking his cracked lips as he stared at Maricela's breasts. “You're a titty man,” she laughed. “There you go.” Maricela took his hand and placed it on her left breast, letting the young man knead away. “Gently,” she said, tilting her head back in pleasure. “Gently. There you go. You like that?” Kelly nodded, noticing the upside down cross that Maricela had tattooed on the underside of her wrist. “Me too, baby. Me too.” Kelly turned to the kitchen door and shuddered as he saw Jesse standing there, watching.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asked. “I said he is a beginner. He's shy with women. You gotta take it slow.” “You get off on taking a front row seat?” Maricela asked. “We were taking it slow.” “Then why is he so freaked out?” Maricela glared at Jesse. “Come on,” Jesse said, waving her away from the couch. “Give us a minute here. Go upstairs to the bedroom and we'll be right there. We need to have a man to man.” Maricela got up off the couch, rolling her eyes as she made her way up the steps. “This always works for me,” Jesse said, waving the wine bottle in his hand as he sat down next to Kelly. “Loosens you up. Breaks down whatever blockages you got going on in your big head and little head.” Kelly gulped hard. “We'll be right there!” Jesse called out. “Go ahead and get nekkid! He'll be right up.” CHAPTER FIVE Maricela entered the bedroom and closed the door. The lamp on the desk illuminated the neatly made bed. There were pictures of dead bugs on the wall which gave her the creeps. She looked closer and realized that they weren't pictures at all. They were dead moths and butterflies inserted between the glass and cardboard backing. A buck is a buck, she thought, seeing more than her share of strange. She walked over to the TV set and pushed the button to turn it on, looking for the remote control on the counter. “Look man,” Jesse said, putting his arm around Kelly like a big brother. “There is only one thing you need to know about women, okay? You have to satisfy their needs. Once you do that, you are in. Okay? So do you know what women

want more than anything?” “Help?” “No, they want to get high,” Jesse said, removing his arm around Kelly, struggling to uncork the wine bottle he held between his legs. “You just have to find out what women want. Some women you meet are going to want fun. Power. Status. Money. That is why whores like Maricela are so great. There is no drama. You pay your fee and get what you want.” Jesse popped the cork on the bottle and Kelly shuddered. He knew he had placed the poison in that one. Jesse raised the bottle to his lips but Kelly grabbed it out of his hands. “No!” Jesse stared at Kelly for a beat. “You never got to have any fun did you?” Jesse asked. “She used to send me to the store,” Kelly said. “With a note to get booze.” “Your mom?” Kelly nodded. “No worries, man,” Jesse said, moving closer to Kelly now. “My folks were the same way. Both of them alcoholics. Dad was a functional one. Went to work every day. Worked his ass off every day. Then one day he shot himself. Just stepped into the house and blew his brains out. Died all alone.” “I never knew my Dad. Never. No pictures. Nothing. Bet he died alone.” “My mom didn't even cry,” Jesse said. “Just kept bringing men over. Fucked every one. Didn't care if I was listening or watching or what. Definitely didn't care that my Dad found out. She was evil, man. Evil incarnate.” “Mine too,” Kelly whispered, hunching his back as of the ghost of his mother could hear him.

“Mine was worse than an evil step mom. She was a real mom.” Maricela laid on the bed, noodling around on her cell phone which now showed a dead battery. Looking around for an extension so she could recharge it, the screen shot on the television caught her eye. The report showed a police sketch of a man that resembled Jesse. “Police said to be on the lookout for the license plate BAD AZZ in a late model white or gray Toyota. If you have any information regarding the suspect please call 911 immediately.” Maricela toggled on her cell phone again. Dead. She ran over to the bedroom door but when he opened it she saw Jesse standing outside with Kelly behind him. “Someone is in a hurry to get started,” Jesse said. “If you're that horny you can go ahead and start without us.” “Was just wondering where you guys were,” she said. “He's ready and rarin' to go,” Jesse said, placing his arm around Kelly and shaking him. “Go get 'em, Tiger.” Maricela forced a smile, stepping aside to let the men in. “You ready to show him a good time?” Jesse asked. “But of course,” she said, her voice quavered, betraying her nervousness. “Give the man a little privacy.” Maricela took Kelly by the hand and led him further into the bedroom. She attempted to close the door but Jesse stopped her. “Nothing goes on behind closed doors around here,” Jesse said. Kelly looked back at Jesse as if he were about to go into the electric chair. “You can do it, buddy!”

“Come on, handsome,” Maricela motioned for Kelly to sit down on the bed. The young man took a deep breath, eyes downcast until he slowly looked up at woman stroking his upper thigh. “Do you think I'm pretty?” she asked. Kelly could only nod his head, smitten by her beauty. “Thanks,” she said. Jesse made as if he were going down the steps but stopped at the top, kneeling down so he remained out of Maricela's eyeline. He listened to Maricela's voice, his heart beating in anticipation of what came next just like when his mother had men over at the house. “You look like a movie star,” Kelly blurted out. “Like you should be in porn or something.” “We should go someplace else,” Maricela said. “Just the two of us. Okay?” “But what about my friend? You don't like him?” “I like you better,” she said, kissing him on the lips then hugging him. Kelly shuddered in delight. “You have to leave,” she said, nuzzling his ear. “This dude is a serial killer. Okay? He'll kill us both.” “What the hell is going on here?” Jesse asked stepping through the door, his entire body an antennae telling him that something was up. “This young stud is pitching up a tent!” Maricela said, standing back up and pointing at Kelly's crotch. Jesse grabbed her wrist before she could walk back downstairs. “Where are you going?” “I have to get us some protection. Duh.” Maricela hurried out of the bedroom. Jesse sat down next to Kelly. “What did she say to you?”

“She has a crush on me.” “Ha!” Jesse laughed. “See? See what happens when you give women what they want. You gonna start listening to me now?” They both hear Maricela's high heels running down the steps. Jesse sprinted down the stairs and caught her just as she reached the door. He spun her around, angry. “It ain't polite to leave a party early! Thought you were going to get some protection?” “I left the rubbers in the car.” “Left the rubbers in the car, bullshit!” Jesse slammed her against the wall. “You're a damn devil. A thief!” Jesse reached inside Maricela's purse and pulled out a wallet. Kelly's wallet. “Stop!” Kelly said, coming down the steps. “Lifted it straight outta your pocket, dude!” Jesse threw the wallet back at Kelly. Maricella ran over to the wine bottle on the coffee table and smashed it against the edge. Grasping the bottle by the handle, she held it in front of her as a weapon. “Ooooh,” Jesse said. “Come on, bitch! Come on, let's see what you got!” Maricela's face contorted into that of feral woman, fighting for her life. She stabbed at Jesse, lacerating his hand with the glass. “Bitch!” he said. Maricela ran toward the kitchen. Jesse gave chase until Kelly jumped on his back. “Leave her alone!” Kelly screamed.

Jesse threw off the little man with ease, pushing him into the chair. “You crazy? This bitch just tried to rob you, man!” Racing through the kitchen, Maricela opened the cellar door and locked it behind herself. “Bitch!” Jesse screamed, pounding on the wood. “Bitch!” He kicked the cellar door again and again. “Fuck off!” Maricela cried out. Jesse looked down at his hand, his blood dripping on the kitchen floor. Walking back into the living room, he saw Kelly sitting on the couch watching TV, another wine bottle in his hand. “Dude!” Jesse said, holding up his bloodied hand. “Look what your damn girlfriend did to me.” “She's not my girlfriend.” “Where's the key to your basement?” Jesse asked, taking out his gun. “Or do I have to just blow shit open?” “I have the key,” Kelly said, glaring at Jesse. “Hey man,” Jesse said. “You're looking at me with some hate in your eye. I told you that girl was a thief. A demon. You see that upside cross on her wrist? She's a devil worshiper! Doesn't Satanism freak you the fuck out? Let's go kill her ass.” “She's already dead,” Kelly said, staring off into the distance, in his own world. “All of mine are dead too,” Jesse said pointing the gun at his own temple. “So let's kill another one.” “She told me she loved me.” “Of course,” Jesse said. “I knew that. That's why I got her for you. Figured she was just your type.”

He took the wine bottle out of Kelly's hand and guzzled it down. “Aaaaahhh!” Kelly returned his attention to the television, his eyes transfixed. “What is it, goddamnit?” Jesse asked, turning toward the TV. He saw the police sketch of himself and the license plate. BAD AZZ. Enraged, he shot a bullet through the TV. CHAPTER SIX Maricela heard the gunshot. Startled, she looked around the cellar for a weapon of any kind. She found a fire poker in the corner and gripped it hard. Kelly ran back toward the cellar door with the keys in hand. “I'll get you out,” he called out to Maricela. “I'll help you.” Jesse chased after him but fell down, the room spinning, his entire body sweating. He retched again, with blood streaked bile coming out of his mouth. He looked at Kelly staring at him, wild-eyed with fear. His friend went in and out of focus, doubling and distorting like a kaleidoscope. What was in that wine? Maricela took the fire poker and smashed out the tiny cellar windows. “Help me!” she screamed. “I've been kidnapped! Help me!” Kelly put the key in the cellar lock but could not get it to open. Jesse pitched forward over the sink and retched again. “The fuck you put into that wine?” Jesse asked, purple bile spilling out of his mouth. “I'm sorry,” Kelly said. Falling to the ground, Jesse pointed the gun at Kelly.

“I was just trying to be a good friend,” Jesse said. Maricela screamed as she heard the gunshot. She scrambled back up the cellar steps. Pressing her ear to the door, she waited several minutes before she unlocked it. Opening up the door, she saw both Jesse and Kelly on the floor in a growing pool of blood. Kelly laid on his stomach, the blood spewing forth from the fatal gunshot blast into his belly. He stared straight ahead at Jesse who laid on his back, blood and foam caked around his lips, neck and chest. Ants began to scuttle over their bodies. They were both locked in a death stare at each other. The pupils of their eyes like black holes eating the whites. Their once lonely faces no longer dark but relieved. They didn't have to die alone.

Missing The Dead

Casey Williams Kindle Edition

Chapter 1

*Dead Girl*

She’s young and has the kind of petite body that would forever make her seem more youthful than she really was. I noticed that about small women, say five foot two and under. They always looked younger than their actual age. This girl, I've seen before. She could not pull off the tough, tank girl look to save her life. Literally. She looked too young. Too young to be homeless at any rate. Far too young to be selling herself for food and cigarettes. Her round face is angelic, eyes closed in rest as she lies on the ground, huddled up against the wall of some medical building. The blanket she has draped over her body would usually be too warm for this time of year, but we’ve had a cold snap the last few days, so you can’t really see the sinfully tight skirt and barely there tank top that she’s wearing underneath it. Her sneakers stick out at the edge and her backpack is like a hump on her back. She’s perfect in every way imaginable. Well, almost. The mascara and eyeliner on her face is smudged, making her look somewhat like a raccoon and her lipstick is spread too wide around her lips, making them look too big and completely unnatural. Her hair is like a puffy halo around her head; big and blonde and hardened with hairspray. It’s a wonder how she manages to sleep like this. As I step towards her, my foot taps something that makes a tinkling sound, reverberating throughout the darkened alley. I look down and frown at the beer bottles on the ground. Well, that explains her restful slumber. I shake my head. This poor little girl; living in sin and poverty and there’s absolutely nothing she can do about it. But I can.

I can absolve her of all her sins, forgive her treses and bless her, before I send her back up to her maker. I can give her exactly what she deserves, exactly what she needs. I can make her life mean something. And I will. I can help her in a way that her parents never did. I wish she were sober so we could talk. The trajectories that some girl's lives take always fascinated me. How did she go wrong? At what point did her life take a turn? In another life she would be sitting in a college dorm ing pics on Instagram. Or in another time she would be a farmer's daughter, walking through a tobacco or cotton field on a humid morning on the way to church. But not in this life. No, in this life, she is here. And so am I. I watch my feet this time as I make my way towards her, a damp cloth in one hand and a bag in the other. No more beer bottles clink as I step towards her. Not even a rat scurries back as I kneel, slowly and gently, down next to her so that my knees brush against her chest. She doesn’t even stir. I pause for a moment to take in the hidden beauty before me. Beneath all that makeup and slutty clothing is a little girl who just wants to be loved, to be accepted. Too bad for her, luck just wasn’t on her side and she found love in all the wrong places. Shame that she had to go through this all so young. Damn shame. Don’t worry, baby, I think silently to myself as I brush back those lovely curls. Things are going to be much better soon. This, I promise you. I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out the blade. It’s an old one, but trusty. It has not a single chip in the metal, nor a dent or curve. It’s perfect and straight. The edge of the blade is sharp and thin. Your life is not your fault, my sweet. It is your mother's and your grandmother's and her mother before her. Or maybe we can blame your father. Because odds are that he was never around. Painless, I think as I run the blade down her cheek. She just barely stirs and I pull it away. One frail hand rises to rub at her downy cheek, before retreating back under the blanket. She stills after another moment. Then, I decide to make my move.

With my knife tucked securely in the crook of my thumb, I use the other four fingers to rip the old felt blanket down, exposing her body to the cool air. Almost immediately, her eyes open wide and she gasps, probably at the sight of me. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s had this kind of reaction to me. To be honest, it probably won’t be the last. I give her one wicked smile, before I lower the rag over her mouth and nose, press down hard as she struggles and attempts to fight back. It’s no use, though; she’s far too tiny. It takes less than thirty seconds for her body to go limp. When that happens, I toss the rag to the side and raise my knife with both hands. “Lord,” I say, “please deliver this young lady to salvation. Forgive her sins and allow her to you in the kingdom of Heaven. Amen.” Then I plunge the knife directly into her heart and sigh in pleasure as her blood coats my face and chest. It is done. Gray soot covered the sky. The scenery had been deteriorating for several years ow: shuttered businesses, a liquor store, a barber shop and a Chinese take out place that had boards up on its windows. A black man walked past with a pit bull that toothed at his fleas. A woman jogged to catch up with him, her bulbous stomach spilling over her jeans. Two homeless men sat on a bus bench, waiting for nothing. A gas station across the street with a young Arab man sweeping up the stalls, looking over at the police activity across the street. “Maxwell, what’ve we got?” Detective Lou Pearson asked as he ducked under the police tape and into the alley in Union Square. He had a round head and ears that protruded out a lot wide than they should but he had an alpha aura that most women couldn't resist. Dr. Leila Maxwell, the pathologist for the area, gave him a grim look despite her attraction to him. “See for yourself,” she sighed, looking back down at the body of a teenaged Jane Doe. To the casual observer, the small blonde girl might have looked like she was simply sleeping, her head resting on a garbage bag and her body blanketed by an overlarge piece of glorified felt. But to the trained eye, the truth was all too clear. Leila pulled back the blanket and immediately felt her stomach drop at the sight.

“Holy fuck,” Pearson said. “I know,” Maxwell uneasily spinned a thing diamond bracelet that Peterson had given her. She glanced at the jewelry for a second then at her palms, which were sweating. “Makes you wish you’d skipped breakfast.” “Shit,” Pearson mumbled. “Too fucking young. Getting younger every fucking day.” “Yeah,” Maxwell fell silent and looked behind herself as if the man who did the killing here were right behind them. Watching. “Your sister does she-” “I don't want to go there,” Maxwell cut him off. “Not now.” “Sure,” Pearson said. “Sure.” “Do I worry that she'll end up like this girl?” Maxwell asked, more to herself than to Pearson. “Yes, of course.” Maxwell knew more than anyone how tough mortality was to process. Especially when it came to people that she loved. “I'm guessing runaway,” Pearson said, wishing that his tone didn't sound so repetitious and stodgy. He couldn't help that. He had to remain clear-headed and focused on the task at hand. Finding killers was his job. Killing was their job. He had to be better at his job then them. “We're getting a bunch coming down here from Seattle now. Starting to think that maybe there's some organizing behind it.” “These poor girls,” Maxwell just shook her head. “Poor little girl.” “You know, I've seen some that start as young as twelve. Twelve fucking years old.” “When I was twelve I was whining about braces,” Maxwell said. “And dumb boys.” “Yep, we're all dumb.”

“Except you, right?” “Of course,” Pearson gently moved a lock of hair out of the girl's eyes. “I used to collect bugs. And rocks. Then I would take an encyclopedia and look them up.” “It looks like she's got a single stab wound straight to the heart, but there's no sign of struggle, so she might have been drugged or drunk when it happened. I’ll know more once we get her to the lab, but I think there’s something else you need to see, Lou.” Dr. Maxwell reached out for the hem of the young girl’s tank top and carefully lifted it up, her blue medical gloves getting soaked with blood in the process. What they saw underneath the girl’s shirt made both of them gag, despite all the crime scenes and bodies they’d seen—together and apart. “’She deserved it,’” Lou read aloud as he shook his head. “Sick bastard.” “Looks like it was premeditated,” Dr. Maxwell said, “so it’s likely our killer knew his victim.” Lou felt his heart pound like it always did when he knew he had to inflict violence on someone. He would have to confront a killer who had an innate advantage over him; he did not have to play by the rules like Lou did. He did his job unencumbered and without restraint. Lou had to answer to Internal Affairs and defense attorneys. “She has a backpack,” Leila pointed out. “Hopefully she has some ID in there.” Pearson nodded, still feeling sick to his stomach. “You know, just when you think you've seen it all. It just gets worse. It gets worse every fucking day. The slaughter of innocents.” “She wasn't innocent. Not anymore.” “How can you say that when your own—“ “Lou,” Leila warned. “Okay,” Pearson said. “You got an idea of the time of death?”

“Sorry,” he sighed. “She's just too damn young. You can't make value judgments on her. “From her body temperature and blood loss, I’d say sometime after midnight and before six AM.” “Who found her?” he asked. “Barber,” came a voice from behind them. Pearson turned to see a uniformed officer, Torres, holding a pen and notepad. He nodded in greeting before reading from the pad: “Barber comes into the shop at around seven, sweeps up the place, polishes the floor, then goes to take out the trash. He sees the girl laying down on the other side of the alley and assumes she’s asleep. Kind man that Mr. Davison is, he goes to wake her up and offer her something warm to eat or drink, but girl doesn’t stir. He checks her pulse and realizes she's dead. He didn’t even know what was beneath the blanket until we showed up.” “Poor guy,” Maxwell says. “When I go to work, I know there’s a chance of seeing a murder victim. He’s probably never seen a dead body before in his life.” Pearson looked over at the man in question. Davison leaned his back against the wall, in an almost sitting position. His elbows rested in his knees and his face was pressed into his palms. Pearson could almost make out the slight quiver of the poor man’s old body. “He’s doing better than I did when I saw my first,” Peterson said. “I puked on the body.” “Yeah, I that,” said Leila. “Dr. Metcalfe nearly went postal on your ass that day. Would’ve had you fired, too; lucky for you, I convinced him to give you another chance.” “So I owe you,” Detective Pearson stood up. “Any chance we can get that backpack sooner rather than later?” he asked her. “And compromise my remains?” “Lei, the COD is pretty apparent from here, don’t you think? Besides, it’s not going to have any effect on toxicology, right?” he reasoned. “Plus, it will give us a head start in ID-ing her, maybe. This way, we can start looking up next of

kin, find out where she’s from; the works. Come on, Swee—Dr. Maxwell, what do you say?” Leila sighed. “Fine,” she said, reaching over the girl’s body to release first one arm, then the other, from her backpack’s straps, “But if the doc gets angry...” “You can blame it all on me and I’ll take any punishment he throws my way. Thanks, Max.” Leila groaned. “Don’t call me Max,” she groused, tossing the backpack his way. Lou scooped it up, avoiding getting any kind of blood on his suit jacket sleeves, though the majority of it had already dried. He turned to Torres. “Manny, grab a pair of gloves and hold this up for me.” Torres made a face but did obeyed his superior. Leila held out the box of gloves to him and he grabbed a pair, slipping them one before taking the blood-soaked bag. He held it out for Lou as he unzipped the bag. Pearson grimaced as he rifled through the clothing, bags of food, a stuffed dog, and...a wallet. “Gotcha,” he whispered to himself as he pulled it out and flipped it open. Inside, there was a student ID and a Driver’s Permit, both with the same name: Hayley Elizabeth Lawrence. Right beneath that was her date of birth. She had turned eighteen only a day before.

Chapter 2

*Little Sister*

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As Dr. Maxwell stepped into her office, she slid the gloves off of her hands and then tossed them into the trash by the doorway. Her legs felt too heavy as they carried her to her desk and she practically broke the chair when she dropped down into her seat. What a day. She’d always hated working cases with kids—she considered it the worst part of her job—but at least with the majority of the cases she worked, she knew exactly who’d done it within minutes of starting her examinations. Usually it was an abusive parent or guardian, or some other kid who’d taken bullying a little too far. Sometimes, it was the kids themselves, unable to cope with the hand they’d been dealt in life. But Hayley Lawrence had been coping just fine—at least that’s how it seemed. Besides her identification, her wallet had held several hundred dollars, all in new bills. She’d been paid recently for her services, though she could find no signs of semen or forced sexual anywhere on the girl’s body. She had been a willing partner, it seemed. Leila fingered the gold and amethyst necklace around the girl's neck. Something that her trailer trash parents could never afford and probably an unspoken consolation to herself for growing up poor. Leila knew that it couldn't be a suicide from the get-go. Whomever had cut her open and removed every single one of her organs had probably not even known the victim. They’d just prayed on a young girl they knew to be a prostitute. The poor little girl was so drunk she hadn’t even seen it coming. Her alcohol levels

were high enough to give her alcohol poisoning, so she could have already been halfway to death when that bastard found her. But he could have just gotten her help. He didn’t have to...do that. Leila rested her elbows on the desk and pressed her face into her palms. She took a stuttering breath and forced back the tears that threatened to fall. Now was no time for tears. Not when there was a psychopath on the loose. And she’s certain that’s what this guy was. Or maybe... She lifted her head, blinking in the suddenly too bright lights of her office. Through the window, she could see Hayley’s covered form, still lying on the slab, toe tag sticking out beneath the plain white sheet. Her interns, Shi and Danny, were in the process of moving her into storage, where she would stay until the case was solved. What if it hadn’t been a psychopath? What if it had just been somebody who wanted to make it look like some new age Jack the Ripper-type shit? Somebody who knew her, knew where she slept at night—assuming that she didn’t move around a lot—and therefore knew exactly where to find her? A client, maybe? Her last foster parents lived in San Jose and they’d reported her missing months ago. Still, Detective Pearson had called them in for an interview. He couldn’t rule either one of them out as a suspect before really talking to them. It would be a few days, though, they said, until they could find a sitter for their five other foster children. Hayley had, apparently, been their go-to sitter before her disappearance and now they struggled to even get one night to themselves. Dr. Maxwell doubted that. When she and her sister, Shannon, had been in the system, every single home had parents that would leave them alone, from the age of eight and four, while they went off and spent whatever money the government gave them on alcohol and sometimes drugs. Nobody ever gave two shits about them. All they had was each other. The thought of her sister during this case was another reason that Leila dreaded it. After getting out of the system, she’d attempted to gain custody of her little sister, but was denied. In order to take care of a kid, you had to have a stable job and a place to live. As it was, all Leila had was a dorm room and the food stamps she got each month to survive while at school. She was still paying back loans she’d taken out just to buy books and clothing.

Maybe that’s why she really preferred to work over staying at home, her vacation days piling up each year. And while Leila worked towards earning her medical degree and making a better life for herself and Shannon, the younger woman took off at the age of sixteen. Ran away from home, just like Hayley did. Started selling herself on the streets, too, just like Leila’s latest client. The similarities chilled her to the bone and she had to remind herself that Shannon Maxwell was alive and well. They’d had dinner just two—or maybe three—weeks ago. Leila had bought her new clothes and tutted over her as if she were the young woman’s mother, rather than her older sister. But Shannon didn’t ever really seem to mind that much. She reveled in it. None of their foster mothers had ever been quite that affectionate with her; only Leila. So she soaked it all in whenever she could. But she refused, not for the first time, to move in with Leila. To let Leila take care of her for real, to help her get off the streets, where she was both living and making a living as a prostitute. Her “exotic” looks got her more than enough clients to at least live in a motel, but she preferred to save her money and stay in shelters. Leila had no idea what she intended to do with the money she saved, but she prayed that her sister hadn’t gotten herself into too much trouble. “You don’t gotta save me, Lei,” she’d said at dinner. “I’m okay. I’m a big girl, now, I can take care of myself.” “You’re only twenty-three, Shan,” Leila replied. “You should be just graduating college or something; starting your career by now.” “I’ve got a career,” Shannon said calmly. “It isn't your ideal. And I know how you feel about it. But it works for me.” “Shannon, please just—“ “No,” the younger woman’s eyes hardened as she shook her head. “I’m fine, Leila. I don’t need you babying me no more. I’ll be okay.” That had been the end of it. Besides small talk and goodbyes, Leila hadn’t brought up the idea of ing Shannon again. But now...she had the sudden urge to call her sister. To make sure that she’s alright and perhaps living in a different city now. Shannon did that; she moved around, didn’t like staying in

one place too long. The only reason she ever really ended up back in San Francisco was to see Leila and catch up. Plus, she had a few clients here that paid her big money for a single night. She cleaned up whenever she came around. Leila wasn’t exactly okay with it, but telling Shannon what to do now that she was a consenting adult...well, even working in law enforcement like she did wasn’t a deterrent for the twenty-three year old. She did whatever she wanted, no matter what. Still, Leila didn’t fight the urge and immediately reached for her phone, tugging it out of her pocket to dial the familiar number. It rang about six times before going to voice mail. “Hey, you’ve reached Bunny! I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you need a favor, you probably already know what to do! Leave a message, silly!” Shannon’s giggles echoed in Leila’s ear and she couldn’t help the smile that spread her lips. No matter what else had changed about her baby sister, that tinkling bell of a giggle never did. The phone beeped in her ear and Leila sighed. “Hey, Bunny,” she started, using her sister’s “business” pseudonym, as she’d instructed. “It’s L. I was just calling to see how you are and what you’ve been up to. Call me back, okay babe? Love you.” She hung up the phone and sighed. She prayed she’d get a call back, though she doubted it. Unless you were a client, callbacks from Shannon were rare and special. Especially when you were Shannon’s protective older sister. Hopefully, Leila would at least get a text. Or she could just call again later. After all, Shannon could just be with a... Leila shuddered at that thought. She hated imagining her sister with clients. Hated thinking of her in any way other than the tiny, curly haired, dark-skinned girl who used to hang on to Leila’s dress with both hands, nails digging into the older girl’s back whenever she was scared. Leila ed, clearly, climbing into bed with her at night to stroke her back and tangle her hands in her curly little fro. In the morning she would brush the tangles away and give Shannon funny hairstyles, from braids to hair puffs, which made the girl giggled when she saw herself in the mirror. Even when Leila was going to school with her own hair a wild mess on her head, seeing her sister smile and hearing that giggle was enough to make even the worst days better.

But, somewhere along the way, Shannon had lost that innocence. Her quick to laugh personality quickly faded. She rarely smiled and never laughed. Leila sometimes blamed herself for the way Shannon turned out. She sighed as she rested her chin on folded arms, feeling helpless not only because she couldn’t protect her sister, but because there was another girl on her slab right now, from the same situation, with the exact same life... And she couldn’t protect her either. It didn’t even matter that they were strangers, in Leila’s book. It was still all her fault. She was brought out of her self-induced pity party when the phone in her hand rang and she practically jumped two feet in the air. Her heart was pounding as she brought it to her eyes and her shoulders slumped when she saw Lou Pearson’s face on the screen. She pressed ‘Accept’ on the screen and brought the phone up to her ear. “Hello?” she greeted, unable to mask her disappointment. Lou wasn’t even fazed. “Hey,” he said, “how’re you doing?” “I have a fifteen year old girl lying dead on my table with all of her organs removed,” Leila groaned. “How do you think?” She heard him sigh on the other side. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s rough, but...we have to keep our heads on this one. No matter how personal it is to us.” “Easy for you to say,” Leila bit out. She instantly regretted it. “Sorry,” she said. “I just...you know.” Detective Lou Pearson was the only one who knew anything about her sister’s life. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. Did you call her yet? Talking to her might make your feel better.” “I tried,” she itted. “She didn’t pick up. Probably working.” She could practically see him wrinkling his nose. “Speaking of working,” he said, trying to change the subject, “maybe we should take the night off.” “That is the complete opposite of working,” she pointed out.

“Therein lies the point,” he replied. “Come on, I’ll take you out to dinner. We can unwind and forget about prostitutes and killers. We don’t have any new leads until tox comes in anyway, right?” “What about the foster parents?” “They’re coming in on Friday, but I’ve got them under surveillance just in case they try to make a break for it.” “You really think they’d go through all of this trouble?” Leila asked. “I mean, they can barely find a babysitter as it is. How would they have gotten away last night to...have anything to do with this?” “Stranger things have happened,” he replied. “So what do you say? Dinner?” Leila took a deep breath and looked once again out at the morgue. Hayley’s body was gone, put away in storage most likely. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought to herself. “Fine,” she answered finally. “Pick me up at eight.”

Chapter 3

*He Strikes Again*

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She’s shivering. No wonder, given the threadbare coat she’s got slung over her shoulders, if you could even call that thing a coat. It’s about two sizes too small, even on her tiny frame. And from the way her pimp is glaring at her, she shouldn’t even be wearing such a thing while she’s working. But the cold weather is too much for her bare skin. Not even half of that gorgeous ebony is covered; her ribs are poking through the paper-thin skin of her abdomen, her knees knock together unattractively. There’s no way she’ll attract company tonight. Not without my help, anyway. I stroll straight towards her, my thumbs hooked into the pockets of my slacks. I’m wearing my nicest suit tonight and I’m positive it will impress her, given the circumstances. She looks up when she hears my footsteps and offers me a flirty smile. She’s no actress, but she’ll do. “How much for the night?” I ask her, with a wink. Her pimp looks my way and narrows his eyes at me, then looks away. One of his other girls has draped herself over an unwilling businessman. He approaches her and ignores us. “Fifty per half hour,” the girl tells me. “One grand for the entire night.” She’s not even seventeen yet and she speaks with all the confidence of a professional, even as her teeth are chattering and she looks close to death.

“Deal,” I say and I pull out the money to prove to her that I have it. “I’ll take a full night.” “Gotta pay Ray Ray half up front,” she says. “You won’t leave early if I do?” I ask her with a smirk. She shakes her head as fear flashes in her eyes. “He’d kill me,” she says. She’s not joking, poor thing. “Fine,” I say. “Follow me.” We walk together over to where Ray Ray is chastising the other girl, who’s about five years older than mine. He turns as we approach and gives me a winning smile. “Good evening, sir,” he says as if he’s some kind of professional salesman, rather than gangly white trash with a meth head smile. “How can I help you?” “I want her for the whole night,” I say, pointing to the girl. “That’ll be five hundred up front,” he says, “and five after the transaction is complete.” He obviously owns a dictionary and a mirror to practice in front of. I peel five hundred dollar bills from the wad in my pocket and hand them to him. “Nice doing business with you,” I say, then take the girl gently by the elbow and lead her down the street. “And you!” I hear him shout after me. But I don’t turn back. I already have what I want. -OThe end of the day came sooner than she’d expected. There were about half a dozen more autopsies to get done before she’d even received the tox reports from the Lawrence case. Thankfully none of them are the bodies of children. Only one of them was under the age of thirty and Lacy Polinski died of Leukemia. Tragic, but not as horrible as... Leila attempted to put all thoughts of Hayley Lawrence out of her mind as she filled out the remaining paperwork for Miss Polinski and tucked the tox reports into her bag for some leisure reading on the subway home. She doubted that

there was anything interesting in them though. From the initial blood tests, she already knew that Hayley had been drinking and the alcohol had likely made her sleep better. She probably hadn’t even heard her attacker approach. Leila prayed that it was a quick and painless death, for Hayley’s sake. On the subway, there was no place to sit—or breathe, really—but she managed by tucking herself into a corner of the car with another woman with two reusable shopping bags full of groceries. She frowned at a man nearby who had his legs spread so wide that he took up nearly three seats for himself, but he paid her no attention. She rolled her eyes and took one of the bags from the woman, offering a friendly smile as she shared her burden. “Thank you,” the woman mouthed at her and Leila just nodded. By the time her stop came, the car had cleared some and she quickly plopped the grocery bag into a free seat before some loping teenage boy could snatch it. He glared at her plenty, but she gave him the stink eye back and offered the seat to the young woman. She thanked Leila profusely and sat, waving goodbye as the doctor jumped out of the train, onto the platform. People are dicks, Leila thought bitterly to herself as she started up the stairs. Just as she did, another man knocked into her shoulder and nearly sent her sprawling down the stair. Luckily, at the last second, he reached out to steady her. “Apologies,” he mumbled. “S’okay,” she replied and continued up the steps without even a second glance. It wasn’t until she got home that she saw the blood. At first, she thought it was red paint or ketchup or...something a little more explainable than blood. But she’d seen that shade too many times in her career to be fooled. Still, she had no idea where it came from. Maybe when she was doing the autopsy of Hayley Lawrence...but no. She had been wearing scrubs and this little smudge of red was on her blouse—her favorite blouse—which had been safely tucked away in her office during the entirety of her examination. Had she accidentally cut herself on something? No, the blood was too red for a simple scratch and she would have definitely felt it. Besides that, there were no

new cuts anywhere near the stain on her body. But then how...? The sound and feel of her cell phone buzzing in Leila’s pocket cut off her thoughts and she tugged the offending object out of her pocket. It was Lou, probably calling to tell her that he was on his way, though it was still a quarter to seven. That man was always absurdly early. She’d already unbuttoned her shirt completely when she answered the phone, was slipping it off one of her arms as she said, “Hey, Lou. I’m getting ready now. I just have to take a shower and—“ “We’re going to have to reschedule dinner.” His voice came through deep and serious; grim as ever. Leila frowned. “What?” she asked. “Why?” She heard Lou let out a deep sigh on the other end and she could practically see the lines on his face. He was too young for the wrinkles this job had carved into his skin. “We’ve got another one,” he said and Leila’s heart stopped. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She quickly buttoned up her shirt and told him to text her the address, that she would be there as soon as possible. After she hung up, she slipped on the shoes she’d taken off by the door, grabbed her medical bag, and headed out the door. On her way to the subway, Leila tried her sister’s cell again. Shannon didn’t answer. -OFor the first time since she began her career, Dr. Leila Elaine Maxwell emptied the contents of her stomach at a crime scene. Not that anybody could really blame her. While this crime scene was similar to that of Hayley Lawrence, there were noticeable differences. The first, and most startling, was the way the victim—a girl of maybe seventeen—was hung from her feet off the fire escape in the narrow alley. Her ankles were tied together with rope and her amber curls are stiff with dried blood, some of which still drips to the concrete below. The blood trail started at her navel, from which she was split to, nearly, her throat, gutting

her. Entrails and organs spilled out of her petite body; the sight was enough to make anybody gag. Especially when... “She looks like Shannon,” Leila sobbed as Lou rubbed her back. She was acting very unprofessional at this crime scene, but she couldn’t care less. Everything was just too much for her right now and she needed a moment. The unis and Lou understood that. Crime scene techs continued to snap photo after photo as she composed herself, the tears dripping down her cheeks caused by a mixture of disgust and pain at the sight in front of her. Lou turned her to the opposite wall and whispered in her ear. “It’s not her,” he said. “It’s not her. That girl...she’s too young to be Shannon. And her skin is darker and curly; your sister’s hair is straight and she has light skin. That’s not her, Lei. Not her.” Leila nodded. “I know,” she sniffled. “But it could have been.” She shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to Shannon in weeks. She won’t answer any of my calls, Jamie. What if she—what if he...” she trailed off, the thought too horrible to voice. “We’ll find her,” he promised. “He won’t be able to get to her, alright? I pro—“ “Don’t,” she said, pressing her hand to his mouth as she turned back to him. “Don’t promise me something if you can’t deliver.” She turned to look at the body of the young girl. “Because if my sister ends up like that...” she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes, hers hardening. “I’ll never forgive you.” She pulled away from him and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves, trying to compose herself as she turned back to the body at hand. Her jaw clenched at the sight of the young face, clouded green eyes open wide, almost fearfully. Leila forced her hands to be steady as she snapped on a pair of gloves and began her examination, trying to push all thoughts of her sister out of her mind.

Chapter 4

*Moments of Silence*

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That night, she sat alone on her couch, a glass of Chardonnay in her hands and her sister’s voice-mail greeting playing over and over again in her ear, between rings. Her voice caused a range of emotions to spread through Leila’s chest. On one hand, Shannon’s voice was comforting, soothing her into a daze as she curled up against the armrest. But, on the other, she was filled with dread and worry like she hadn’t been since she left her precious baby sister in foster care. Since they were separated for the first—and sadly not the last—time. Even listening to the smooth, silky voice didn’t outweigh the worry in Leila’s heart that she was already too late. That the phone in her hand was going to ring and it’d be dispatch telling her about the latest body. Didn’t slow her heart beat when she thought of the possibility of walking into a crime scene, ducking under that yellow tape, only to have her entire body freeze and shut down, simultaneously, when she saw her baby sister, hanging by her feet or lying in a dirty alley, gutted like an animal. “Lei?” A voice from the bedroom broke her concentration and she looked up just in time to see Lou, bed rumpled and sleepy, emerge from the room, wearing only a t shirt and a pair of boxers. She gave him a tired smile, not even bothering to move from her position on the couch. “Hey,” she greeted, hanging up the phone and slipping it back into the pocket of her robe. “What are you doing up?” “I could ask you the same question,” Lou replied, flopping down on the couch next to her. He reached for her hand and tugged until she was leaning into his

body. After they’d left the crime scene, he’d convinced her to hold off on the autopsy until morning, in favor of grabbing a quick bite and getting some sleep. She’d refused at first, insisting that there was so much work to get done and she didn’t have a lot of time and...he’d quieted her with his lips on hers and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Finally, she’d relented and allowed him to guide her to his car, shouting out orders over his shoulder, to the techs, that they should have the body moved to the morgue freezer and be ready in the morning. Then he’d put her in his car and off they went. “I couldn’t sleep,” Leila itted. “I can’t sleep. Not until I know that Shannon is—“ “She’s fine, Lei,” Lou insisted. “But if it makes you feel better, I can have her tracked down, give you a little piece of mind.” Leila thought on it a second, already picturing the disapproving anger in her sister’s eyes and her shrill mad voice: “You had me tracked?!” Usually, she wouldn’t even consider it. She knew what an invasion it was to her sister’s privacy and, if caught with a client, Shannon could have been arrested on the spot, but...what if one of her clients turned deadly? What if he saw her as a younger woman, like the others, and chose her as his next victim? What if he— “Do it,” Leila said with a resolute nod. She would deal with her sister’s anger later, after she knew that the younger woman was safe and sound and had all her bodily organs tucked right where they belonged; in her abdomen. As it was, the simple thought of her sister’s bodily organs spilling from her limp body made the simple broth in her stomach churn. It was all Lou could do to get her to eat it, at least before they went to bed. He’d practically spoon-fed her until she finished half a bowl and then forced her to the bedroom, where they dressed and he pulled her under the covers, stroking her back until they drifted off into what could barely be called sleep. She’d woken up to his snores less than a half hour later and slipped out of the room with her phone. It was after midnight when she left the room and now it was nearly two in the morning. According to her phone, she’d called Shannon nearly forty times and still she didn’t pick up. For the last two hours, she had been trying to reason with herself that it was because Shannon was a prostitute

and busy with clients, but that was scant comfort. In the time it took for Lou to order a track on Shannon Maxwell, Leila had called her sister a dozen more times and was now being coaxed back to bed by her boyfriend and longtime partner. He held her hand in both of his and kissed her fingers soothingly as they walked, only letting go with one of them to flip the light switch. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered in her ear as he tugged her against his body. “They’ll find her and you’ll see; she’ll be okay.” Leila nodded numbly, but she didn’t really believe his words. She couldn’t believe his words. Because, if they weren’t true, then this things happening between them? It was already over.

—

She’s taller than the last one, older, a lighter brown with straighter hair. Still lovely. Still so young and innocent. Too innocent for what she is about to do with this man she’s with. He’s nearly twice her age and...it sickens me. Men like that, like him. He’s a disgusting pig, touching her like that. It’s all I can do not to gut him right now; not to take his head clean off where he stands. His hands rub down her body as they walk, reaching lower and lower before they rest on the roundness of her ass cheeks. From here, I can see the flicker of disgust on her face, illuminated by the streetlights they walk underneath. It’s gone before he can see it, though. But I know it’s there; it will always be there. They make a sharp turn into an alley and I roll my eyes. Typical. He won’t even spring for a cheap motel room for that sweet innocent girl he’s about to defile. He prefers the dirty, infested ground. His decision is enough to influence my decision and I look both ways before crossing the street. I pause out of sight and wait for the familiar grunts and sighs and hisses of pain because he didn’t even wait to see if she was ready, the

bastard. Then I tiptoe inside, keeping myself in the shadows. I see him standing there, behind her as she’s bent over, her fingers clenched around cinder blocks as his hips jerk into hers, repeatedly. My own fists clench in my pockets as he begins to dirty talk her. Asks her if she likes it as much as he knows she does. She doesn’t answer and he gives her ass a sharp slap. “Answer me, whore!” he growls and she whimpers. Takes a deep breath and tells him, in a practiced breathy sigh, that she loves it. That he’s the best she’s ever had. We all know it’s a lie, but it seems to please him and he just continues to grunt with the occasional tap to her backside resonating throughout the dark alley. He doesn’t even care that he’s hurting her with every thrust, destroying her innocence with every move he makes. And that’s enough to throw me into action. I waste no time in placing the knife against his throat and he instantly freezes. “Whoa,” he gasps. “Hold on a minute buddy. I don’t have any money.” “What?” the girl he’s currently buried in hisses, angrily. “Shut up, slut,” he growls. “I have a watch I can give you, but I’m all out of cash.” “I don’t want your fucking watch, dickhead,” I whisper in his ear and I swear he turns his head right then and there, looking me right in the eye. His widen. “Hey,” he says, slowly, “aren’t you—“ I slice his throat before he can finish the thought and his blood begins to pour out, spilling on me, and on the girl, who screams when his hair old body falls onto her, causing her to drop to the ground. She tries to stand up but my foot on the center of her chest stops her. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and begs. “Please. No. Don’t hurt me. Please!” “Aw, sweetie,” I tut, “I’m not here to hurt you.” I lean down until our faces are

less than a foot apart. “I’m here to help you.” With a quick flick of the wrist, I slice her throat as well, sighing as the blood sprays out at me from her jugular. I watch the light quickly fade from her eyes until her gaze is cloudy and unseeing, then I wipe off my knife and take a deep breath. Time for the real work to begin.

—

Their phones went off simultaneously the next morning, jolting both Leila and Lou up in bed. She was the first to grab for her phone and her entire body deflated when she saw the number for dispatch. She heard Lou’ sigh and knew that his was the same. They answered at the same time. “Maxwell.” “Pearson.” A moment of silence as they both listened and digested, letting out sounds of surprise and shock. “Shit.” “No!” They turned to each other, eyes wide with fear and disgust. “I’ll be right there,” they said in unison and hung up. “Double homicide,” Pearson said to her as if she didn’t already know. Leila nodded, her hands shaking as she put down her phone and stood up from the bed. “You okay?” he asked, following her lead.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “I will be,” she said. “Hopefully.” With that, she disappeared into her bathroom and Lou could only watch, helpless. “Me too,” he murmured quietly to himself. “Me too, Lei.”

Chapter 5

*Blood Simple*

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Seven bodies. Seven young girls, all under the age of 18, all dead. All gutted and left in alleys in their jurisdiction, which was the only clue they really had as to where this maniac might strike next. Other than that...they had nothing. In a city of millions, locating just one psycho was quite possibly the hardest thing you could accomplish. Still, Pearson and Maxwell worked around the clock to find something, anything that might lead them to their killer. Each night was spent in the morgue or the precinct, trying to piece together evidence that just did not fit together, like a mismatched puzzle. None of the girls killed even seemed to know each other and the only connection they seemed to have was their particular line of work. And the grown man found on Claire Montgomery, a runaway from Scarsdale, was some kind of no-name businessman who worked nearby. He’d had a wife and two children, all of whom were estranged due to his “abusive tendencies” and the sexual advances he’d made toward his daughter as she entered puberty. The missus hadn’t even been surprised that he was found with a hooker, though she’d be shocked to be informed of his death. She was their only suspect, having gained a small fortune and the house she and the kids had been forced out of once the separation came through. Unfortunately (for Pearson), she had a rock solid alibi; she was working as a waitress on the late shift at a diner on the other side of town. The murders occurred right in the middle of that, so she couldn’t have been anywhere near the scene. Both of her children were under the care of their grandmother, who lived in Brooklyn, too

far from the crime scene, as well. Not that a fourteen-year-old or a ten-year-old would really have had the guts to do what this maniac was doing. Still, they had to keep all their options opened and this small family was as close to a lead as they had. Leila autopsied each and every body and tried not to think about the fact that at least half of them could for a younger Shannon. It was like the killer was trying to send her a message, even though her sister never showed up on her slab, nor did the trace they put out on her reveal her to be in any danger. According to them, Shan was safe and sound, living in a hostel downtown. She always had them leave her alone after sundown, lest they find out what her chosen career was. The last thing she needed was to get her baby sister arrested for solicitation. As it was, Shannon still wasn’t answering her calls and Leila wondered if there wasn’t something seriously wrong happening in her sister’s life at the moment. In every text message and voice-mail she left on her sister’s phone, the M.E. made it clear that Shannon could come to her if she needed help. But she never responded. Not once. Leila had half a mind to go downtown and pay her dear sister a visit, ask her what the hell was going on and why she was ignoring her. But she had a case to solve—several cases, technically—and Lou couldn’t do this without her help so, as long as Shannon was still alive and well and staying out of trouble, she could wait to confront her sister until they at least had something else to go on. “Lei?” Lou voice broke her out of her thoughts as he popped his head into her office. She’d just finished the last autopsy, on a fifteen-year-old name Ornella Gomez, recently orphaned and on the run from foster care. She’d started turning tricks just a couple of months ago and semen was found on her body. Leila’s interns were running it now, comparing it to the DNA evidence taken from the businessman found with the Montgomery girl. She doubted it would match, though, given all the evidence on the contrary. She looked up at him with tired eyes and a weary body. She ached everywhere and it was due, in no small part, to the stress that had been building over her in the two weeks since the first body was found. And the refusal of her sister to so much as text her back to let her know that she was still alive. So she didn’t so

much answer her boyfriend/partner as grunt in acknowledgment of his presence. “I’m about to head home,” he said. “You should come, too.” Leila shook her head. “There’s too much work to be done,” she said. “Go on without me.” Lou sighed and shook his head. “That wasn’t really a request,” he told her. “Come with me. You need sleep and clean clothes. And a shower.” “Do I smell?” Leila asked, suddenly feeling ridiculously self-conscious. She lifted the arm of the button-down she’d grabbed from her hamper and sniffed. It smelled stale and nothing like the detergent she’d washed it with or the perfume she’d dabbed on that morning. In all honesty, it smelled like death; she’d just grown used to it. Lou didn’t respond to the question (he didn’t think there even was a response that wouldn’t land him in the doghouse for the night) and instead walked right up to her side, turned her chair, and tugged her up by the hands before she even opened her mouth to protest. “Come on,” he said as he pulled her towards the door. “A little sleep will be good for you. Maybe even a bath or something. You said it would be a few hours before the nerds had something for you, right?” Leila frowned. “Quit calling them nerds,” she snapped. “I’m as much a nerd as either of them, you know.” “But you’re an adorable nerd,” he countered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “An adorable, very dirty nerd,” he purred, then wrinkled his nose as he caught sight of a reddish-brown stain on her side. “Literally.” He plucked at the spot on her shirt and she looked down, furrowing her brow. “Oh, that,” she said. “That happened a few days ago.” “And you’re still wearing it?” Lou asked, his face twisting in disgust. “Aren’t you afraid of getting a disease or something?” “It’s just paint, Lou,” Leila sighed, rolling her eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because it looks a lot like blood.”

That caused Leila’s eyes to widen and she looked down at the small smudge on her shirt with new eyes. Blood? How on earth would blood get on her? Unless... She began unbuttoning the shirt in earnest, stepping away from the detective to call out the door to one of her interns. Shi popped up, curly red hair tied into a bun on the back of her head. She blushed as Leila pulled off her shirt and the woman had to force herself not to roll her eyes at the young med student. “Here,” she said, “take this to the lab and have them take samples of the stain on this shirt. Ask them what it is and if it’s blood, then I want to know whose by tomorrow morning, got it?” Careful to avoid looking at Leila’s chest, Shi nodded and plucked the shirt from her boss’s fingers. “Yes, Dr. Maxwell,” she squeaked, before disappearing from sight. Leila turned back to her boyfriend, who had an amused smirk on his face. “Now we can leave,” she said, grabbing her jacket and zipping it up to hide the black lace bra she was wearing. He followed her out on her heels, not saying a word. Boy, she certainly was something, though.

—

Leila woke at a quarter after five AM in Lou’s bedroom. She’d had clean clothes there, and absolutely not at her own place, it seemed, so it seemed like the logical choice. He ordered them Chinese takeout and paid, the gentleman that he was, then ran a hot bath for them both to unwind. She’d practically fallen asleep on him when he rinsed out her hair and he’d carried her, nude, to his bed. They’d only slept after that, but she woke up with his shirt on and his body draped over hers, almost protectively. For a moment, she allowed herself to bask in the warmth and affection she’d found in this man. Neither one of them had really said ‘I love you’ out loud yet, but there was a sort of silent agreement that they both felt it went without saying.

Though this was as good a time as any. Before she could open her mouth to whisper the words in his ear, however, her phone rang and she groaned, though thankful that his wasn’t ringing as well. There was no new body found...yet. She hoped it would stay that way. “Maxwell,” she groaned into the receiver. “Good morning, Doctor!” Danny’s chipper voice chirped in her ear. She held the phone away and sighed. He was always infuriatingly upbeat, that kid, even when working around death all day long. “Good morning, Mr. Fawcett,” she replied, sleepily. “What is this about?” “We got a couple matches from that blood sample on your shirt,” he informed her. “So it was blood then?” Leila asked, sitting up. Lou’s arm landed in her lap and she stroked the soft hairs on the back of it. “Wait, a couple? There was more than one person’s blood on my shirt?” “Yes, I found it odd too,” Danny said. “But they checked it twice and there’s definitely two. Both have matches in the system. One of them is one of our victims, too!” He said this as if it were the greatest coincidence in the history of the world. “Which one?” she asked, her heart pounding. They may have just found their connection—albeit to a faceless man in some subway station, but if they could just pinpoint which victim he’d been in with... “Jocelyn Harris,” Danny said, as if he were reading it off of somewhere. “The second victim, I believe?” The girl who looked like Shannon; Leila ed and made a note to go back and look at the girl’s body, which was still in the morgue as nobody had yet claimed it. “Who else?” she asked, pressing the phone more insistently to her ear. If they were both in the system, she might be able to track down the killer through his blood. “Well...” Danny hesitated and she could practically see that irritating little lip

bite thing he did when he was nervous about something. And he definitely sounded nervous right now. “What?” she asked. “What is it?” “Well, that’s the thing, Dr. Maxwell,” he sighed. “The second blood sample was kind of...odd. It stood out to me because of who it belonged to and I checked with multiple sources on this before I even thought about calling you in case you might get all worked up over nothing and—“ “Danny, just tell me whose DNA it is, goddammit!” she yelled, jarring Lou from his slumber. She could hear him sigh on the other side. “Fine,” he said. “The blood sample belongs to one...Shannon Maxwell, aged 23.” All at once, the earth and everything attached to it seemed to fall away, the phone dropping from Leila’s hand and Danny’s concerned voice fading into nothingness as tears filled her eyes and a dull roar sounded in her ears. Next to her, Lou was panicked, shaking her shoulders and attempting to bring her back from her stupor, but there was only one thing on her mind, only one word that fell from her lips as he asked her what was wrong. “Shannon.”

Chapter 6

*The Trap*

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Her heart felt as if it were about to explode. Her lungs felt as if they already had. Every one of her senses seemed drowned out as her sister’s name echoed through her mind. All she could hear was the high-pitched giggle of her voice message. All she could see was Shannon, aged 16, watching her solemnly as she left her in that goddamn foster home. All she could feel was the guilt of abandoning her sweet baby sister when she needed her most. And now she might be dead because of that abandonment. Leila knew, logically, that it was ridiculous to blame herself for something like this. She and Lou had always told the families of their victims that the fault lay with the person wielding the knife; not the one who got cut. It was never anybody’s fault but theirs. But, right now...well, she could see why so few of them believed it. It was complete bullshit; all of it. Because, as far as she was concerned, whatever happened to Shannon was entirely her fault. But she was going to fix it. The second her sister’s name fell from Leila’s lips, Lou was on the phone, checking up on the trace they had on the younger woman, barking at them when they confessed that they’d lost sight of her. The news of her disappearance was enough to propel Leila towards the closet, had her rushing to dress herself in whatever she could get her hands on, whether it matched or not. Lou followed, shortly, throwing his phone in agitation as he grabbed a pair of abandoned jeans from the floor and changed into them. Then he grabbed yesterday’s shirt and threw his arms into it, quickly buttoning it with one hand as he reached for his wallet and badge with the other.

“I’m gonna grab my gun,” he told her, pressing his hand firmly to her back as he rushed out, moving quickly to his safe. He was holstering it when Leila practically stomped out, her face red with anger as she approached him. “You told me she would be alright!” she barked. “You said everything would be fine! You’re a fucking liar!” He turned just as she threw her fist, hitting his shoulder. She did it again. And again. And he let her; allowed her to get it out of her system. By the time her fists began to lose speed and strength, she was sobbing, her face pressed into his neck and his arms instantly banded around her, hands running soothingly over her spine. “We’ll find her,” he whispered. He refused to say more than that, though; didn’t want to get her hopes up, to tell her that when they found Shannon, she’d be alive. But they would find her, he decided. No matter what.

—

It wasn’t even ten AM by the time they got the call. Another body had been found; this one was without a face, but all the physical markers matched. It was Shannon. That’s what they told them anyway. Her body had been found in a warehouse, practically swimming in a lake of blood. There were scratches and wounds and bruises all over her body, which was already a few days cold and stiff. “It’s definitely her,” the gruff voice said on the other side of the phone. “Do you want us to have her shipped to the morgue or...?” Lou turned to Leila and opened his mouth to say yes, but she shook her head before he could. “I need to examine the body,” she said, her voice monotone. “There might be evidence at the scene that we could use to—“ “Lei,” Lou interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t think that’s a good—“ “I’m fine, Pearson,” she snapped, a flicker of fire coming to her eyes. “I’m fine.

I just...I just want to do my job, alright? Tell them we’ll be there shortly.” Lou wanted to argue with her, to tell her that she didn’t have to do this. That Danny or Shi could be there in her place; that they could take over for her just this once. But he knew that she wouldn’t listen to him. Not today, not after the crappy news they’d just received. So he just nodded, repeated her words to dispatch, and listened for their reply, which confused them. “Please hurry,” came the whispered voice. Lou wanted to ask what they meant by that, but the line cut off before he could. Perhaps it was nothing, he thought, but he still turned on the gumball as he made his way out into traffic. Something wasn’t right.

—

The warehouse was a good twenty minutes away, but they made it in fifteen with Pearson’s lead foot. The cruiser was still rolling to a stop when Leila burst from it and ran, as fast as her legs would take her, into the building. Lou sighed, putting the car into park right next to the other one, where two uniforms sat, likely waiting for them. Cutting the engine, Lou unbuckled and got out, walking over to the enger side window, his eyes on the open door of the warehouse, left that way by his girlfriend/ME. He shook his head. “I’m sorry about this,” he said, leaning down. “I told her to wait for your okay, but—“ he trailed off as his eyes turned down to look at the two man and nearly fell back on his ass at the sight of the knife wounds splitting their necks wide open. Their eyes were clouded over, unseeing, and their mouths gaped open, tongues out. Blood soaked their uniforms. “Fuck!” Lou growled and began running into the warehouse. “Leila!” he screamed. “Leila, it’s a trap!” He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the second level, screaming out her name. “Leila! Leila, it’s a—“

“Trap?” a familiar voice finished for him as he froze in the doorway that led into the main floor of the second level. His eyes widened in shock at the tall woman’s curly black hair and caramel skin, her eyes a startling match to the women who was currently just as shocked and frozen as he was, in her grasp. There was no blood anywhere to be found; nothing like the scene described by the unis. Just Shannon Maxwell, wearing a hoodie and loose jeans, pressing a knife to her sister’s throat. END

SHOUT AT THE DEVIL

JESSICA BARKLEY

Dust swirled in a shaft of light coming through the window. The building was old and faded. Letters on the sign she had ed outside had been bleached by the sun, leaving behind more of a whisper than a declaration: Living Waters Orphanage. Ruth walked quietly down the hall. Finger paintings on yellowed paper clung desperately to the walls. A bulletin board was pinned with pictures of smiling children with sad eyes. Their faces filled her with longing and despair. There were no more laughs here, no more children running down the hall. No more hopeful couples coming to take them home. The orphanage had been closed down for years, sitting here empty with no purpose. Ruth clutched her purse as she continued down the hall. The woman on the phone had said to follow the main entrance to the last door on the right. Ruth’s breath was quick and shallow. Her clothing was black, and her red hair was down around her shoulders. Ever since the incident, she had tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Her long hair was like a wall, protecting her from the rest of the world. It had been hard to talk about it. She was afraid people wouldn’t believe her. She needed somewhere to go where people wouldn’t judge her or think she was insane. That’s when she had seen the ad. Her favorite coffee shop had a wall set aside for small businesses to . Most of the flyers were for teenagers trying to get jobs mowing lawns or for lost pets in the area. She typically just let her eyes glance over them while she waited in line, not really taking in the words. Something about one of the flyers caught her attention. It had a cross in the middle with text above and below saying, “Survivor group. Taking back possession of your life after possession.” There was a number on the ad to call for more information. Ruth had memorized the number and called later that evening. The woman who answered sounded young and so full of life. She gave Ruth the address and time of the next meeting. Despite desperately wanting help, she still had to force herself to go. The closed down orphanage wasn’t exactly a hopeful place to meet. A sign on the last door on the right had the same flyer Ruth had seen at the coffee shop. Her hands trembled as she reached out for the silver handle on the door. She pushed the door open. The hinges groaned in protest. The room was about the size of a classroom, and there were five chairs arranged in a circle. Four of them were taken. A young blonde woman stood up as she entered, “Hi! You must be Ruth.” She extended her hand as Ruth ed them, “I’m Lucy.” Her smile looked out of place amidst the dust trailed floor and the grimy

windows. Ruth pried one hand off of her purse strap and shook Lucy’s hand, “Nice to meet you.” Her voice was timid as she took her seat. The stale air filled her lungs as she breathed in and out. She sat stiffly and looked around at the other of the group. “Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves?” Lucy seemed a little too happy for the circumstances. Her bubbly attitude contrasted darkly with the atmosphere of the room. She was like a buzzing neon sign fighting not be swallowed by the night fog. She sat back down and looked at the girl on her left. “I’m Brandy. It’s been two months since my possession.” Brandy had dark hair and a small tattoo of a heart on her collarbone. Her sultry eyes peered at them from above her dark, red lips. “I’m Heather. It’s been a year since my possession.” Heather was blonde. She wore a tiny gold cross around her neck. Where Lucy’s personality was like a buzzing neon sign, Heather’s was more delicate, like starlight. “I’m Jackie. It’s been about a month since my possession.” Jackie had dark hair with purple streaks in it. Her nails were painted black. She gave Ruth a small, apathetic wave as she spoke. A smirk played across her face. It was Ruth’s turn now. All of their responses had seemed structured. She followed the pattern, “I’m Ruth. It’s been two weeks since I was possessed.” All of the other girls looked younger than she was. Were they teenagers? Maybe they were in their early twenties? She looked at the wrinkles on her knuckles. She was already in her thirties, and most of her time had been wasted frivolously. “Good! Everyone is doing great. Who would like to share their story first?” Lucy’s eyes sparkled with joy as she looked around the room, “You can tell us how you felt, anything you , how you are dealing with it now, and really just anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Warmth beamed out of her as she talked. There was a brief silence. All of the women were waiting to see who would speak first. “I’ll go.” Heather sat up straighter in her chair, “You would think having a year to process this would make it easier to talk about,” she gave a

small nervous laugh, “but it doesn’t really. I was sixteen when I first became possessed. I don’t know why I was chosen, but I think it may have been punishment for my father.” Heather made eye with the other girls as she spoke. She was more somber now. “My dad performs exorcisms for the church. I think that possessing me was a demonic way to get back at him for years of undoing their work. I grew up around it all the time, but nothing can prepare you for when it happens to you.” Heather swallowed before continuing, “I just get bits and pieces when I try to .” She looked at the floor as if she were searching for answers, “I losing pieces of time. Like I would be eating breakfast, and the next time I looked down I was in my room getting ready for bed. Or I would be watching TV, and the next time I blinked I would be cooking dinner. Several times I would be driving, and then I would look up and be in a completely different part of town, as if my body were on autopilot. Everything was disconnected. Nothing is more frightening than not having control over your own body and not ing how you got somewhere. It was the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had.” She looked up at the group as the other girls nodded. “I still pray every night for protection and for help on overcoming all of this. When I saw your sign,” Heather tilted her head towards Lucy, “I just felt like God wanted me to be here for some reason, so that’s why I’m here.” “That was an excellent job at sharing!” Lucy smiled reassuringly. “Who would like to go next?” “I guess I can go.” Brandy flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “I was at work when I had my first demonic episode.” She paused and cocked her head to the side, “Well at least it’s the first one anyone told me about, showed me really.” “What do you mean showed you?” Jackie leaned in as she listened. “Um, well, they caught it on tape.” “Like, what, a security camera?” Jackie squinted trying to understand. Lucy straightened her shirt, “Why don’t we practice active listening, and just let Brandy talk?” She raised her eyebrow at Jackie who leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “It’s ok,” Brandy clasped her hands together as she continued. “I used to do adult films. During one of the scenes, I levitated and spouted off some strange language. At first they thought some of the set people were in on the joke, but

there weren’t any wires. There wasn’t really any logical explanation for what happened. Now, no one wants to work with me. No one will hire me. No one who knows anyway. It pretty much ended my career. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it was me when I saw the tape. I thought they were playing a joke on me, but the fear in their eyes was real.” Brandy took a deep breath, “I called a priest to come talk with me. He said that he believed I was possessed. That’s a hard thing to hear, but he helped me through it.” Brandy’s mouth formed a small smile as she ed the priest fondly, “I’ve never really been a religious person, but if there can be something so awful in the world, then there has to be something good, too.” Brandy looked up towards the ceiling, “There has to be.” Lucy followed Brandy’s gaze then quickly said, “Well done, Brandy. Jackie? Why don’t you tell us your story?” “I didn’t want an exorcism. I welcomed my demon.” Jackie sat back up as she spoke. Heather leaned away from her as she continued, “He made me feel alive and powerful. All of you were weak. Too weak to truly enjoy it. I bet you didn’t even touch yourself during it.” She turned towards Brandy, “Did you know that possession leads to heightened sexual pleasure? My climaxes were so intense, it was amazing.” Jackie writhed in her chair as she ed. “If you honestly enjoyed it,” Heather looked disgusted as she talked, “then why did you have an exorcism?” “It was forced on me.” Jackie’s face darkened. “My parents talked to the local priests, and they tied me to the bed. Did some holy water, prayers, and stuff. I felt him leave the moment they exorcized him out of me. It was like this gaping hole was left in me, and I was normal again. Disgustingly normal.” Jackie leaned back roughly in her chair. The two front legs of her seat came off the ground for a moment from the force before clattering back down. “They’re the ones making me come here.” “Well, we are glad you’re here, Jackie, no matter the reason.” Lucy leaned out and touched Jackie’s knee lightly for a moment. The women turned to look at Ruth, “I guess it’s my turn.” Ruth’s hands were balled into fists, grasping the hem of her shirt. “Honestly, I don’t really much of the possession.” She kept her eyes on the floor, “Everything is hazy. It’s hard to sleep at night. I have to leave the lights on. I know it sounds

stupid, and that light won’t keep me safe, but I don’t know what to do. Sometimes,” Ruth’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I feel like I’m being watched, or I have this unnerving feeling that I shouldn’t go to the back of my apartment, and that if I do, something horrible will be waiting for me. It only happens when I’m alone.” Tears brimmed up in her eyes, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid now.” She wiped away a tear as it started to fall. “I can’t talk to my family or friends about it. They wouldn’t believe me. I guess I’m just here hoping to not feel alone at the end of the day. I just need someone to believe me and help me through this.” Ruth looked at her feet. Her face was hot with embarrassment as another tear escaped across her cheek. “Then you have come to the right place.” Lucy’s voice was soft and kind. “When someone goes through intense emotional or physical trauma, like you all have, sometimes they find themselves feeling like it was their fault. Like they are less worthy of companionship and love because of what they have been through. Like they are broken.” Lucy looked at each of the in turn. “This group will help you find what you have lost in yourselves.” Lucy picked up a bag that was by her feet, “Here, I have one for each of you. I would really like you to write down anything that concerns you, or that you about the incident. Sometimes it makes it easier to share if you write it down. I know I have trouble finding the right words sometimes when I’m speaking, but for some reason writing flows easier for me.” She ed out a composition book to each of the girls. “On the inside of the cover, I taped one of my business cards. You can call me on my cell any time, day or night. I’m here for you if you need anything, ok?” She smiled kindly as she stood up and folded her metal chair. “I think we had a wonderful first meeting today. Will I see you all again on Wednesday? Same time and place?” The women nodded and folded their chairs, too. They leaned them against the wall where Lucy had placed her own. Ruth gathered her things and started heading towards the door. She felt a little better knowing she wasn’t alone in her experiences, but she was mostly just relieved that it was over for today. As she walked out the door, she heard Lucy ask Jackie to stay behind a moment. The only thing that really made Ruth uncomfortable about the meeting now that it was over was Jackie’s story. Ruth drove home in the fading light and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She plopped her purse on the table and laid the notebook down beside it. All of the lights were still on in her place. She was paying almost double the electric bill

that she was before the possession, but for her it was a necessary sacrifice. She couldn’t stand the thought of walking into a dark room. Ruth walked to her fridge to find something to eat. It was mostly take out boxes of stale Chinese food and half drank soda cans. She pulled out a box of sweet and sour chicken and grabbed a soda from the door of the fridge. Ruth sat down at her kitchen table and flipped open the cover of her notebook. Lucy’s card was taped to the inside cover with her cell number typed in gold lettering. In the center of the card was a fancy design of swirls underlining her name. The bottom of the card had text from a different language that read, “Natas ot gnoleb uoy.” Ruth assumed it was something in Latin as she fumbled through her purse for a pen. She clicked the pen to get it ready to write. “Dear diary.” This is stupid. Ruth chastised herself as the ink flowed over the paper. She crossed out the words and started again: “Dear diary. I guess let’s just get the hard part over with. My name is Ruth Adams, and I was a victim of demonic possession. I don’t know why or how, but I do know that it was real. As much as I would like to think that I imagined everything, I didn’t. I don’t much of the actual possession, but I do before and after. Before all of this started, I was fairly happy. Well, maybe not happy, but at least I was content with my life. I first noticed something weird was going on when small items would disappear from where I left them and then reappear in unlikely places. One time, my phone ended up inside the locked trunk of my car. Another time, my sunglasses that I left at work ended up inside of my dresser drawer. It made me feel like I was losing my mind. There was no way I would have put those items there, but at the time, what other explanation could there have been? I seriously thought that I was having psychotic breaks or blackouts. I even contemplated going to a doctor. That’s when the scratches started. Long scratches appeared on the insides of my thighs and across my shoulders. It was like my skin was just splitting apart on its own.” Ruth put down the pen. Even just ing what happened frightened her. Her heart was beating quickly. Her senses were heightened, and the feeling that she was being watched was back. Ruth glanced towards the back bedroom. That’s where her instincts told her something bad was waiting. She turned on the

T.V. The sound of other human voices helped to alleviate her anxiety. In a way, it tricked her into not feeling so alone. The uncomfortable feeling still nagged at her. Ruth closed her eyes and prayed, “Dear Lord, heavenly father, please watch over me and protect me from evil. Please keep me safe and protect me from any darkness that may try to come near me.” Her lips trembled as she whispered the words. A chill ran across her spine. “Grant me strength to overcome evil, and shield me from demons. In your name I pray, amen.” The chill dissipated, and the feeling of being watched was gone. Ruth felt a rush of relief. Exhaustion overwhelmed her suddenly. She sat on the edge of the couch and focused on her breathing, trying to get it back to a normal pace. She curled up on the sofa and pulled a thin blanket over herself. Her eyes closed slowly as infomercials played across the television screen. Ruth stirred awake the next morning. She showered and dressed quickly. She slung her purse over her shoulder and locked the door behind her. The stair well was grey and smelled faintly of Fabuloso and insecticide. Ruth clambered down the stairs until she reached the first floor. She pushed open the door that led to the lobby. White tiles flecked with grey lined the floor. Ruth made her way out of the apartment building towards her car. The city was starting to wake up. Taxis puttered by with visiting business men in the backseats. A woman jogged along the sidewalk, her ponytail swinging behind her. A young man crossed the street with five, small, yappy dogs leading the way on separate leashes. The smell of cigarette smoke and exhaust drifted through the air. Ruth unlocked the door of her car and climbed in. She drove towards the coffee shop she frequented. In her rearview mirror, she saw a black car hanging back. The vehicle stayed back, but it made the same turns she did. Ruth tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She parked near the front of the coffee shop and bolted inside. She watched through the window as the black car drove by slowly. The windows were tinted, so she couldn’t see the driver. “Hey, Ruth!” The girl behind the counter called out, “Want your usual?” Ruth tucked her hair behind her ear and turned back towards the counter, “Hey, Jules. Yes, please.” She smiled halfheartedly and glanced furtively back out the window. “You doing ok today?” Jules blended some ice cubes into the coffee mixture. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that. Tell you what, why don’t you pick out a pastry? On the house.” Jules smiled as she mounded whipped cream on top of Ruth’s drink. “Really?” Ruth’s face glowed with gratitude at the unexpected gesture of kindness, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” Jules shrugged, “No problem. You’re one of my best customers.” Ruth picked out a flaky pastry drizzled with icing and took her to go bag and her drink from Jules. “Have a good day.” She lifted her bag as a substitute to waving since her hands were full. “You, too!” Jules turned to take the next person’s order as Ruth headed back to her car. More cars were starting to edge their way through the city. Ruth pulled out into traffic to make her monotonous morning drive to the office. Traffic trickled past the buildings and sidewalks. Ruth dug her pastry out of the bag she had stashed in the enger seat. As she took a bite, some icing fell off and landed on her pants. “Crap.” Ruth mumbled through a full mouth as she chewed and tried to brush the crumbs off without leaving any residue. Ruth felt her car bump into something. She looked up to see the black car from earlier in front of her. “Oh no.” Ruth whispered as she put her car in park and threw on her emergency flashers. Ruth stepped out of the car, “I’m so sorry, really. I should have watched where I was going.” A middle aged woman climbed out of the car in front of her. She had blonde hair with a scarf tied around her head. She walked to the back of her car where Ruth’s bumper was butted up against hers. “I don’t think there’s any real damage, do you?” She looked up at Ruth. “No, it...it looks ok.” Ruth looked at the woman pleadingly. “There’s no harm done, child, but why don’t we exchange numbers and insurance information just in case?” The woman pulled out a small notepad and a pen and looked at Ruth expectantly.

“Ok.” Ruth took the pen and paper and scrawled out her number and the name of her insurance company. She ed the notepad back to the woman. “Wonderful!” She wrote out her own information and tore out a page. She handed the piece of paper to Ruth. The woman grasped one of Ruth’s hands in both of her own as Ruth reached out to take the slip of paper. She leaned in and whispered, “You’re in danger.” Ruth stared at her for a moment as the woman crawled back into her car and drove away. She looked at the page she held in her hand. There was a number written on it followed by the words, “I’ll be in touch.” Ruth slid back into the driver’s seat, visibly shaken. Why would a stranger tell her that? Was this some kind of sick joke? Ruth started her car and finished her drive to work. “You’re late, Miss Adams.” A tall man was leaned against the edge of the receptionist desk. His bald head reflected the fluorescent lights. “I know. I’m so sorry, Mr. Thompson.” Ruth walked around behind the desk and clocked in on her computer. “It won’t happen again.” “Could you bring me a print out of my schedule, please?” Mr. Thompson’s voice trailed away as he retreated to his office. “Yes, Sir.” Ruth waited for her computer to warm up so she could pull up the list of meetings for today. The day dragged by. Ruth’s thoughts kept running back to the woman from the accident. She was sure it had been the same car that had followed her to the coffee shop. Why would someone want to follow her? What kind of danger was she in? The questions knotted together in the pit of her stomach. Ruth made her way to the parking lot after work. She was mindful of her surroundings as she drove home. No sign of the black car. She still had a few hours of daylight left as she eased her beat up Toyota into an empty parking spot close to her apartment building. She trudged up the steps and unlocked her apartment. The lights were out. Ruth scrambled to find the light switch with her fingers. She flicked the switch and the light came on. Her heart pounded as she eased into the room. Darkness bled from the back of the apartment. Everything looked untouched except for the

lights. Ruth went around to the kitchen, bathroom, and living room flipping on all of the light switches. The ominous feeling was being exuded from the back room again. Ruth backed into the lighted area of the living room. Terror coursed through her. She flipped on the T.V. to distract herself. It’s ok. Ruth tried to calm herself down. You’re ok. Just breathe. Her heart was still racing, but her breathing was more even now. She walked over to the kitchen table and picked up the pen again. “After the scratches started forming on my body, I realized that what was happening was like something out of a horror movie. I called a psychic from the want ads to come over, but she wouldn’t even come in the apartment. Her face turned pale when I opened the door, and she fled. I didn’t want to call my friends or family. They don’t believe in spirits. Honestly, at first I thought it was just a ghost. I had done some research online, and poltergeists seemed to be the top result for what I was experiencing. I booked a hotel room, hoping that it was just attached to something in the apartment, but that didn’t help. I woke up in the middle of the night with blood soaking into the sheets and the mattress of the bed. I could feel it sticking to my thighs and my calves. I tried to scream, but it was like all of the air was being driven into my body. I think that’s when it really took hold of me. I don’t much after that, just flashes of places. I saw my work. I saw my apartment. I saw the outside of the local hospital. Mostly I just the smell of rotten eggs when I would come to my senses momentarily. The smell mixed with the intense heat of its presence in a cloud of stifling despair. I couldn’t make sense of time or even really the glimpses of things that I saw. It felt like I was drowning constantly in a sea of darkness. Later, I found out it was the psychic that had told the priests where I lived. She was reason they came to check on me, and honestly, she may be the only reason I’m even still alive at this point.” Ruth put down the pen. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. It felt as though cold fingers had just trailed along the back of her neck. Ruth shivered as goosebumps spread along her body. She shuffled to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Just something to calm my nerves. Ruth let the chilled liquid burn her throat as she took a swig. The glass bottle clinked against her teeth as she tilted it back down. The alcohol left a trail of fire down her esophagus and

into her stomach. She curled up on the couch as a car dealership commercial flashed its latest deals across the T.V. Ruth tucked her knees closer to her chest and pulled the wrinkled blanket around her. She closed her eyes as the vodka worked its way into her system. Her empty stomach sped up her body’s absorption. Her arms and legs started to feel lighter as she drifted off into an intoxicated sleep. Her dreams were plagued with the screams of babies and figures that darted through the shadows. Ruth could feel fingers entangled in her long hair. Strands of her hair tugged against her scalp. She could feel them rip away from her head. She tried to disentangle herself from where her hair was caught, but the fingers jolted closed and yanked her backwards. The skin on her heels grated against gravel. She struggled to find footing, but the force dragging her was too strong. Suddenly, the ground dropped from beneath her. Ruth plummeted in the darkness; her hair fluttered around her face. Her stomach did flips as she fought to catch her breath. Ruth’s eyes opened as she woke up. She looked around herself. She was on the floor. Her blanket was tangled around her ankles. Her hair was matted with sweat. Early morning television flashed by cheerily in the grey light that seeped through the curtains. She breathed a sigh of relief as she picked herself up off the dusty floor. Cleaning had been put on the back burner lately. She pulled herself to her feet and walked to the shower. Steam filled the air around her as lavender soap bubbles swirled down the drain. The water helped. It felt clean and safe as she detangled her hair. A clump came out between her fingers. Ruth pulled her hand away, starring at the strands that clung to her palm. She wadded up the ball of hair and stashed it behind the shampoo bottle. Ruth turned off the water and dried herself off. There weren’t any visible bald patches. She kneaded her scalp with her finger tips. It was tender to the touch. She got dressed quickly and shoved the notebook in her purse. Work was monotonous. Clients and schedules and cancelations. The day dragged on until it was finally time to leave the office. Ruth caught herself absentmindedly massaging her scalp throughout the day. It was still sore. She climbed in her car and turned the key. The next meeting would be starting soon. Ruth drove to the orphanage and made her way inside.

Her footsteps echoed down the deserted hall. Ruth opened the door to the room where they met last time. Only Lucy and Jackie were there. The other girls hadn’t show up yet. The chairs were already set up. Ruth took the same seat she had last time and placed her purse in her lap. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable, especially with Jackie around. “How are you doing, Ruth?” Lucy looked at her tenderly. “I had a rough night sleep.” Ruth rubbed her scalp. Lucy clicked her tongue, “Nightmares?” “Yeah.” Ruth looked her a little suspiciously. “It’s normal to experience nightmares when you go through a trauma.” A small smile played across her lips, “It’s typically just your subconscious trying to make sense of everything that happened to you.” The door opened, and Brandy and Heather walked in. Heather looked over her shoulder, “Did you guys see the blonde in the scarf when you came in?” “What blonde?” Lucy’s voice was a little harsher than she intended. “Some lady outside.” Brandy jerked her thumb towards the front of the building. “How old did she look?” Ruth was staring at Brandy. Brandy paused for a moment, “Probably mid to late forties.” “You should all be very careful.” Lucy’s eyes darted to each of them and her brow furrowed with worry. “We aren’t really in the best part of town, and you never know what kind of people are lurking about. You should be especially careful since you are all still very vulnerable.” “What do you mean? Why vulnerable?” Brandy was fiddling nervously with her bracelets. Lucy looked to Heather who took a deep breath. Heather touched the tiny cross that dangled around her neck, “Your soul is just like any other part of your body. When it gets banged around, it needs time to heal. During an exorcism, the

demon who is inhabiting the possessed person clings onto the soul. The priest has to basically rip the demon off of the soul. That—combined with the stress of being inhabited initially—leaves it weak and, well,” Heather turned towards Lucy, “vulnerable.” “Exactly.” Lucy nodded. “My dad has actually had multiple patients that have been repossessed after he has performed exorcisms on them. A lot of times they think that he just didn’t really get the demon out, but he says it’s more like there is a mark on the soul. There’s a darkness that draws the evil back to them.” Heather sat down softly in her chair. “So we basically have targets on backs.” Brandy scrunched her hair between her fingers as she let out a frustrated sigh and dropped into the empty chair beside Heather. “On your souls, but yes.” Lucy looked at them gravely, “Just please be very careful. Especially if you have all seen this woman lurking about.” Her face looked grim and frightened as she looked towards the door, “You never know who might be working against you.” Lucy shook her head as if to clear away unwanted thoughts, “Why don’t we get back on track?” Her normal smile replaced the tight-lipped frown. “Everyone take your seats. Who would like to share first today?” “I’ll go.” It was the first time Jackie had spoken since the meeting began. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching the past few days, and I think maybe I was just interested in being special. It didn’t matter where that came from, as long as I had it.” Jackie looked at the floor in embarrassment. “I just wanted to feel like I was a part of something bigger than myself, and having the demon inside me gave me the power to overcome the other things in my life. My home life isn’t great. My older brother died when I was thirteen. He was always the golden boy...the one that did everything perfectly.” Jackie shuffled her shoes against the floor, “After he died, nothing I could do was good enough. I was living the shadow of a dead person. Everything I did was measured up to his perfect standards. So,” Jackie chipped away at her black nail polish, “I decided that if I was never going to be as good as he was, then I was going to be as bad as they played me out to be. I really got into Ouija boards when I was about fourteen. I prayed to Satan every night. I even tried to

my demonic guardian a few times. It’s kind of like a guardian angel, but for the other team.” She looked up at the group, “Part of me didn’t really believe in it if I’m being honest, but another part always hoped.” “You’re a part of this now.” Lucy smiled at Jackie warmly, “And we only want you to be you. As cliché as that sounds.” She laughed, and it was like tiny bells tinkling. Ruth still felt a little uneasy about Jackie. It seemed like too much of a turnaround for just two days. “Are we seriously just going to sit here and talk about our feelings instead of doing something?” Brandy ran her fingers through her hair. “My dad sent me a care package from the Philippines.” Heather sat up straighter. “Good for you, princess.” Brandy’s agitation bubbled up as she threw a look at Heather. Heather glared at her, “What I mean is, he’s been doing exorcisms over there.” She turned back to the rest of the group, “The package had a St. Benedict Crucifix in it and a few bottles of holy water. It also had some Sina Ginger Candy, but I don’t think that will help us right now.” Heather touched the cross at her throat again as she thought about her dad, “He knows I’m still struggling, and a care package is really the only way he can help me while he’s gone.” “That’s great.” Lucy looked at Heather sympathetically. “Is it in your car?” “No.” Heather shook her head. “It’s back at my house.” “Ok, well, why don’t you go get it and meet us back here? I think that might make us all feel a little better.” Lucy nodded as she spoke. “Wait!” Ruth called out as Heather began to gather her things. “I don’t think you should go alone. It’s not safe out there.” “I agree.” Lucy’s face contorted in concern. “Jackie? Would you go with Heather?” “Of course.” Jackie agreed instantly.

“Oh, no, really,” Heather stammered, “I’ll be ok.” “Please?” Jackie reached out and touched Heather’s arm, “Please, just give me a chance.” Heather paused, looking into Jackie’s pleading eyes. She breathed out and nodded her head, “Okay.” Ruth watched as the two of them left the room. She still didn’t trust Jackie. Doubt bubbled up in her stomach. “What do we do now?” Ruth’s voice came out in a whisper. “Well,” Lucy scooted her chair closer into the circle. The legs scraped along the floor with a drawn-out squeak. “We can still talk.” “I’m gonna go take a piss.” Brandy placed her hands on her knees and pushed off. Lucy waited for the door to click shut behind her as Brandy went to find a bathroom, hopefully one with working plumbing. “It’s sad. Some people only want to believe in a higher power when things are looking up.” She turned back to Ruth. Her blonde hair framed her face. “Do you want to talk about your nightmares?” “Not really.” Ruth looked at the floor. “You don’t want to know what happened to the babies?” Ruth’s eyes shot up, “What?” Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, you know.” Lucy stood up and walked behind her chair. She let her fingers trail along the back of it. Her manner was almost seductive. “The ones whose screams you hear at night.” Ruth’s fingers trembled as Lucy laughed. “Think back to those small little bundles of joy you took so easily from the hospital. Do you the way their soft flesh felt against your fingertips? The way their heads needed ?” Lucy mimed holding a baby. “The littlest one grabbed your pinkie. Do you his tiny hand? His pink smell?” Ruth was shaking, “Who are you?”

“No, no, no, let’s not rush our time.” Lucy clicked her tongue like the ticking of a clock. “I want you to close your eyes and .” “I don’t—” “Uh, uh, uh,” Lucy wagged her finger, “Eyes closed.” Ruth unwillingly closed her eyes, “I don’t anything from when—” “Let me set the scene.” Lucy walked soundlessly behind Ruth and crouched so that she could whisper in her ear. “It was a clear night. There was a cool breeze. You were standing on top of a bridge. You could smell the water. The little brats were nestled in the back seat. Then, ever so carefully, you picked them up, one by one, and tossed them over the edge.” Lucy’s voice escalated in terrifying joy. “No.” A tear slid down Ruth’s cheek. Distorted images ran across her eyelids: headlights, a baby blanket, rippling water. “It wasn’t me!” Ruth’s eyes flared open. “It was whatever was inside of me.” Rage and self-hatred flooded through her. “Ha!” Lucy laughed, “You’re too pretty for such copouts. No, it was you. We just helped you do what you always wanted to do.” Lucy looked slyly at Ruth, “You were my inspiration for choosing this place, you know. The place that turned you down when you wanted to adopt.” Lucy savored every word. “I never wanted to hurt children.” Ruth’s fingernails dug into her palms. “No, but you were jealous.” Lucy licked her lips, “All those fertility treatments, the sperm donors, because no one could stand your paranoia long enough to get you pregnant the old fashioned way. You’re a burden, but you already knew that. That’s why you didn’t call your family when things started getting really hairy.” Lucy pouted, “And even with all the medical marvels they have, you were still barren. Your womb as empty of life as your life was empty of meaning.” She spun on her heel with a flourish, “Quite poetic, really. Maybe the universe just knew you would make a terrible mother, and judging by what you did on the top of that bridge, the universe was right.” “Stop it!” Ruth was rocking back and forth as the tears fell freely. She raised her hands to cover her ears, but Lucy only talked louder.

“And you decided that if you couldn’t have a baby, then no one would.” She punctuated the last four words by shifting her hips from side to side. “No.” Ruth whispered between her sobs. The door shook as if someone was trying to get in. “Go Away!” Lucy screeched, spinning to face the doorway. Her shoulders hunched up like an animal. She turned back to Ruth, “You are the weakest one. You know that right?” She crossed her arms and leaned down condescendingly. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. Crying like a—whoops, I almost said ‘baby.’” Lucy cackled. “If I’m so pathetic,” Ruth looked up through tear-matted lashes, “then why even bother?” “Why, because, darling. You may be pathetic, but you’re mine.” Lucy ran her finger down Ruth’s hair. Ruth pulled away from her. The door burst open. Lucy growled as she flung her wrist toward the entrance. An empty chair flew towards the door and slammed into Brandy’s chest, knocking the wind out of her. Heather stepped over Brandy’s limp body followed by the woman in the scarf. Heather had a crucifix in her hand. The woman was evoking angels and praying vehemently. She carried a large, black gun. “What?” Lucy laughed mockingly, “You think I’m afraid of a gun? I was forged in hellfire, molded with sulfur, and sculpted by time.” Her voice deepened as she spoke. The bell-like quality was gone. The woman kept praying. She aimed the weapon at Lucy. A stream of water surged forth as Lucy’s new baritone voice laughed, shaking the window panes with its vibrations. The laughter was cut short as the water hit her face and sizzled against her skin. She squealed in pain and turned away. Ruth could see blisters bubbling to the surface of her cheek and across her left eye. “Holy water.” Heather brandished her crucifix higher. The two women continued approaching steadily. A growl erupted from Lucy’s throat as she twitched her wrist again. Another chair flew from the circle and collided with the scarfed woman’s head. A loud

smack echoed as she slumped to the floor. Lucy jerked her head to the side. Her neck cracked into a strange angle as she turned her attention to Heather. A toothy grin split across her face. “Lucifer! In the name of the Father, I expel you! In the name of the Son, I expel you!” Lucy lunged at Heather’s throat with her teeth, “In the name of the Holy Spirit, I expel you!” Heather screamed the words with conviction as Lucy’s teeth scraped against her skin. Lucy’s body convulsed on the ground. White spit bubbles foamed at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes rolled back into her head. The blisters on her face were swollen with liquid, almost to the point of bursting. Lucy’s arms thrashed against the floor. Her head jerked back in one last contraction before a slow exhale wheezed out of her lips. The body went limp. Ruth walked over to the body slowly, “Is it over?” “Yes.” Heather placed her fingers on Lucy’s neck. “No pulse.” She looked up at Ruth. The woman wearing the scarf stirred and sucked air through her teeth. She winced as she sat up and touched her head. Her fingers came away bloody. “She’s been dead for a while.” The woman stood up and walked over to the girls. “When Satan takes over a body, it’s different than when a lesser demon inhabits someone.” She wobbled as she tried to maintain her balance. Heather grabbed her elbow to help her. “Satan takes up more room and burns hotter. The host’s soul can’t last very long under those conditions.” “Who are you?” Ruth was still trembling as she looked at the woman. “Well,” The woman reached up and straightened her scarf, “I used to be called Sister Mary Eucharist. Now though, I just go by Angela.” “She used to be a nun.” Heather helped Angela to one of the chairs that hadn’t been flung around the room and then went to check on Brandy. She talked over her shoulder as she helped Brandy sit up. “She saved me when I got outside with Jackie.” “Where is Jackie?” Ruth looked through the doorway trying to catch a glimpse of her.

“Knocked out on the sidewalk.” Angela pulled off her scarf and used it to dab at the blood coming from her head. “She had already been repossessed.” “I think it happened when Lucy asked her to stay late at the last meeting.” Heather held up her index finger, and Brandy was following it back and forth with her eyes. “She certainly seemed up for another possession last time.” Heather shook her head. “She’ll be ok, but I don’t think her body can take another possession.” Angela pulled her scarf away and looked at the blood. Her cut was starting to clot. “She’s battered, but I don’t think that will stop her from opening herself up to evil again.” She shook her head. “Did you know about all this when I hit your car?” Ruth’s breath was coming quicker. She was on the verge of a panic attack. Her eyes darted back and forth. “One of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is discernment.” Angela looked at Ruth intently, “And you, child, have such a darkness hanging over you.” She tilted her head. I knew something was after you, but I didn’t know it was this serious. I followed you. I saw the other girls with the same darkness hovering above them. When I saw the dark haired girl walking out with this one,” she gestured to Heather, I took my chance. The demon in her told us about Lucifer’s great plan. Demons like to brag, one of their downfalls.” “Do you always carry an exorcism kit with you?” Ruth looked at the water gun leaking on the floor. Angela smiled, “Honey, when you’ve seen all the stuff that I’ve seen, you stay prepared.” Brandy groaned, and Heather helped her up. Ruth lowered her voice, “Do they lie?” “The demons?” Angela brushed her hair away from her face. “They don’t have to lie. They can see into the darkest parts of your soul. That’s their way in. The truth is far uglier and more terrifying than any lie could ever be.” Tears streamed down Ruth’s face. The images of the babies were seared into her mind now. Vomit seared her throat as she retched on the floor.

Angela stood up and walked over to Ruth. She rubbed her back as Ruth spit up more stomach acid. “Honey, whatever it is you did, God can forgive you if you ask him.” Ruth shook her head no and dug her fingernails into her thighs. “Yes, yes, he can.” Angela nodded. “Demonic possession brings out the worst in people. You did not have complete control of yourself. Listen to me, they can take even the tiniest seed of evil in your heart and grow it into a terrible force of nature.” She stroked Ruth’s hair. “What is important now is that you ask forgiveness and live in the light. Just make the most of what time you have left here.” Ruth turned and rested her forehead on Angela’s shoulder. “Would you like me to pray for you?” Angela’s voice was soft and comforting as Ruth nodded. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. We humbly come before you to thank you for this victory today and ask for your help once again.” Ruth felt Heather place her hand on her shoulder as Angela prayed. “Please bless this broken child and help mend the wounds, both spiritual and physical that have been left behind by this attack. Surround her with your love and grace, and give her the strength to make it through this trial in her life. Lord, we know you only give us what we can handle, and judging by the amount of tribulation you have placed on this girl, you must think she is so strong.” Ruth felt Brandy’s hand rest on her other shoulder. “Help us to stay on your path, and may your will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.” Brandy and Heather ed Angela in unison, “Amen.” “Amen.” Ruth whispered. Some of the weight lifted off of her chest as she pulled away and looked at the three of them. “Thank you.” The days to come were marked by depression for Ruth. She struggled with the torment of what she had done. The nightmares persisted. She, Brandy, and Heather attended survivor meetings led by Angela every Saturday. Brandy eventually got a job as a photographer. She found that spending her life behind the camera gave her more joy than her time in front of it. Some of her clients recognized her from her porn career, but mostly that just helped to put them more at ease with her. The old adage of ‘imagine your audience naked’ was just a little easier for them. Heather’s father came back from the Philippines, and she ed him in performing exorcisms. She often joked that after exorcising Satan, lesser demons were a piece of cake. She helped to calm the patients, but in the meetings she confessed she was still terrified during every session. Angela mentored the girls and did her best to help them with their own struggles. Jackie died a few weeks after they performed her second exorcism. They found a business card beside her body with the text ‘Natas ot gnoleb uoy’ typed in gold.

Under the text, Jackie had sloppily scribbled the words backwards and in reverse order: you belong to Satan. Her eyes could not be closed, and her cracked lips were peeled back in a toothy grin. Her family chose not to have an open casket.

THE SCARRED

TINA FORTH

She wasn’t always called Narla. In her past, she was known by another name and lived in a forest made of stone on an island off the coast of a vast land. Narla couldn’t much about those days. They seemed hazy in her mind, because many winters had ed by her since she lived in the stone city. She thought of herself as Narla and it was all that mattered. Narla liked to sit in her favorite tree in the forest and watch the vultures soar high in the sky. Those beautiful birds spent the entire afternoon in the up there and barely flapped a wing. She ed the time one of them tried to land on a cliff and missed it four times. Each time the magnificent bird would return for another until it finally found a place to land. The vultures were her friends. She knew they watched out for her and let her know when there was danger in the forest. If she followed them, they would show her things to eat. She’d lived in the forest ever since the night she was taken to it by the tribe. The tribe consisted of very bad people who did horrible things to women. Narla ed when she lived in the stone city and knew people like her. Those days were long gone, but she was happy. So long as she could find food and a safe place to sleep, she was very happy. There were bears and wolves in the forest, but she’d learned to avoid them. Bears could be sent running if you hit them in the nose with a stone. That day, Narla sat on the branch of her favorite tree and watched the birds on the end of her limb. She was hungry and the birds had a nest of eggs. Those eggs would keep her fed for another day. Narla didn’t mind if she spent the entire morning near the nest. All she needed to do was sit in place and the birds would forget she was there. The birds might smell her, but Narla took care to roll in some pinesap before she climbed the trees that day. The forest was mostly pine in this part and the birds wouldn’t notice her smell. She sat there on the branch and held a place with her feet. Her hands grabbed the branch on which she perched. Every hour she advanced another foot toward the nest. The birds didn’t notice even when the branch slipped down each time she moved toward them. Sometimes Narla would the tribe and what they did to her. How she was grabbed from the stone city and taken to the forest. So much was blank in her mind. All she needed to know, she ed. But every so often, she would the tribe and what it had done to her. How each of them did horrible things and dumped her in the forest. The worst was when the man hit

her in the head with a rock. Narla almost died the first week as she wondered around senseless. Then she found some wild onions and they tasted good. “I swear to God,” Robert said to Bo as they walked down the trail, “that crazy lady is somewhere out here. I know because I’ve seen her in the past.” He turned and peered at a shadow in the tree line, but it was just a limb. “That’s what you said about the ghost of Matilda Gray,” Bo snapped back at him. “Didn’t you say she came one night and threatened to kill you? Didn’t you tell us this is why you married her daughter?” “Different situation,” Robert replied. “It was the only way her daughter would ever consent to marry me. So I played on her superstitions.” Every man in the hunting party had a laugh. There were five of them in Northwestern Pennsylvania that afternoon. Hunting season had begun and they could take time off from their work to look for deer. All of them carried shotguns, although Howard brought along a rifle from the European War. They’d been up late that night distilling off the last of the hooch for the buyer who was supposed to pick it up from them in a week for his speakeasy. Business was good and there were plenty of people who wanted it, even if congress had banned the sale of alcoholic beverages in the United States. So long as Wall Street made everyone rich, there was no reason to keep out of the party. Bo was out in the front. At twenty-eight, he was the leader of the band and knew how to make the hooch. Buck was his brother and two years younger. Robert knew about the process of fermenting a batch of corn and found them a campsite in the woods to use. David was a cousin who was twenty and wanted in on the operation. The last member of their party was Howard, who was from another branch of the family in Maine. They had a nice little operation hidden away in the woods on the other side of the mountain and didn’t worry about anyone interfering with it. They didn’t know that Howard was with the federal government. The revenue men had tracked the illegal booze operation, which supplied so much jackleg whiskey to Pittsburgh months ago. It was a serious matter to have one of their people on the inside. This was not easy to do since most of these local families went back generations and didn’t talk much to outsiders. Howard

was one of Mr. Hoover’s new men who rose up through the ranks and had a spotless record. When the chance came to infiltrate a bootlegging operation in Pennsylvania, he jumped at the opportunity. “So how do you know so much about this crazy lady?” Howard asked Robert. “It sounds like you’re some kind of expert.” He played the role of an out-of-state relative who needed work and wasn’t too bright. “Because I was one of the men Sheriff Sanders deputized to find her,” he told his friends. “Back when that lady from the city disappeared around here. You know, the lady whose purse they found near the reservoir.” Howard nodded as if he knew a little bit, but not much. In fact, Howard the government agent worked on that case. The local county ed Washington for help as she was from a family of quality and it made them all look bad at the courthouse. Poor little rich girl goes missing from the streets of Pittsburgh. Her car is found in a forest near the North West Pennsylvania federal land (another reason to call Washington). Government men swoop all over the woods, but they don’t find a thing. Another mysterious disappearance for the history books. Howard knew more about the case than he wanted to it. It broke his heart when he found out what happened and who did it. He didn’t like to think much about it. Many years had gone by since it happened. Narla was about to move forward on her branch when she saw the tribe move below her. What was this? The tribe never ventured into her forest, they knew what would happen. This was her land and she protected everything in it. She stood still and became a part of the tree as the tribesmen moved under her on the old trail. There were only a few of them. It caused her to the night she was taken to the forest. It was men like the ones below Narla who did those things to her. She stopped her observation of them and tried to what happened. Something about trusting them and why she’d let them take her to this place. She felt funny in the head and crept back to the tree. The birds noticed her, but she wasn’t very hungry all of the sudden. Narla held onto the tree trunk and became part of it as she watched the tribe slide past her position and vanish into the forest. This was her forest and she would defend it. The naked young woman slipped

down from the tree and hid behind a bush. She didn’t resemble anything civilized, with her long tattered hair and mud-covered skin. Narla didn’t appear to be anything human. She dropped to the ground, whistling like a bird just in case anyone looked in her direction, and began to circle around the tribesmen. She could follow them until the time was right to act. The sharp knife was still under the rock where she left it. Narla found it last year foraging through the old cabin. It held a good edge and she used it as a tool. Lashed to a stick, it was excellent for catching fish. She took it out of its hiding place and moved back to where she saw the tribe on the move. Soon they would leave unless they planned to stay here. She still hadn’t decided what to do about them. Then Narla saw the man with the stick in the back of the column. She ed that stick. Narla recalled a man who held it to her head while the others did things to her. Her thoughts were garbled and she couldn’t much about what happened afterward, but the stick she did . It made loud sounds and she was scarred of it. If he held the stick, it must be the same man who caused her so much pain. Then she noticed all the tribesmen carried sticks. These had to be the same men who dumped her in these woods years ago. Narla ran her finger along the sharp blade of her knife. There was a sickness in the forest and she needed to cut it out. “Is this the place you talked about?” Bo said to Robert. “The way you talked, I thought it was some kind of palace. “Just an old cabin,” Robert replied. He was the biggest man out of the party but didn’t eat all that much. David propped his shotgun against the tree outside and looked at the old cabin. It still had a roof, but the entrance didn’t have a door on it. There was a small porch, but he did trust the eaves over it. Howard, his rifle cradled under his arm, walked into the cabin and looked around. Not much left, hard to say who built it or why. Howard tried to look his most innocent. They’d accepted him as one of the family all week and he’d done his best to earn their trust as he helped them distill the hooch. Several barrels were already in the back of the truck at the other camp. No one would bother it while they were out here. No one was supposed to

know about the other camp. All he needed to do was someone in Washington when they left the camp and it would be cleaned-up. He didn’t like betraying these men, but there were laws. Plus, he wanted that promotion. They decided to make camp in front of the cabin as no one wanted to sleep inside it. The men unpacked their bedrolls and put up some canvas overhead just in case it rained. It was going to be a good weekend of hunting before they had to get back to the stock. Howard ed them around the fire and made up a few tales of fishing in Maine to keep them interested. However, for the most part, he allowed them to talk while he remained silent. They gave him useful evidence he could use later. They found David’s body in the morning. Bo got up first that morning to get the fire started and went out to take a piss after it was going. He’d dropped his pants when he noticed a boot that stuck out from behind a tree. After he buttoned his pants, Bo crunched through the old undergrowth to see who it was. They’d all had a bit too much of the stock last night and assumed it was one of the crew. “So which one of you....” he started to say before he looked down and saw David slumped up against the tree with his throat cut out. His blood was dry, as it had drained hours ago. The best they could figure was that it happened sometime in the night. Howard didn’t want to give his cover away, but he could tell it was done with a knife. A big one, given the slash marks. It was quick and David never had the chance to scream. “The crazy lady,” Bo said as they stared down at the body. It didn’t take Narla long to take care of the first member of the tribe. He was foolish. All she needed to do was sit and wait for someone to venture outside of their camp that night. She stood perfectly still all evening in her most stone pose. Narla perfected the pose the first year she lived in the forest. For a week after she came to the forest, Narla sat in one spot and did not move. She drank the water from the rain and managed to chew on some food she had with her. Her weight dropped quickly, but she didn’t care. Inside her mind, she was dead and waited to fade into nothingness. Eventually, she did become nothing. After the week of sitting in the same place, she began to move. Just a little bit. Then she moved enough to crawl across the ground and find something to eat. It wasn’t

hard; she seemed to know what plants were good for her and which ones would bring instant death. Narla became something between animal and human that crept on the ground to survive and hid in the dark. She located a cave to stay inside when the weather was bad and soon taught her how to crawl up a tree when a bear threatened her. She had no sense of who she was or what she’d been. All such information was gone, stolen from her when the men took her into the woods. The rock to the head was the final thing that caused her to lose her sense of self. They’d left her for dead, but she became something else. None of the men thought she was still alive or they’d have taken care of her earlier. As she grew stronger, Narla learned to steal food and clothes from the farms near the forest. Stories spread of a wild woman who lived in the forest and hunters were told to watch out for her. Other people confused her with a woman who lost her mind and ran off into the forest, never to be seen again. Narla had a keen sense of danger by now and would vanish up a tree or into a grove if she heard anything, which suggested the tribe to her. Other people were always the tribe to her, as she had no other concept of them. But this group was different. There was something about them that brought back the memories of what sent her to the forest. She knew they would contaminate the forest and kill the only place she knew as home. Narla wasn’t about to allow that to happen. As she watched, the others gather around the dead body on the ground, she ran her thumb along the knife blade again and waited. They might try to leave, but they still had her to consider. “His throat cut ear-to-ear,” Bo said the rest of the group. “Who would do this? Your crazy lady wouldn’t know how. This has to be the work of those boys from Slippery Rock.” There was another gang of bootleggers from Slippery Rock who wanted to muscle in on their hooch operation. Howard knew about them from his office in New York City. Many of these small-timer operations were consolidating in the wake of increased pressure from the federals. It made sense as a way to save and hide materials when the government constantly tried to locate them. Howard adjusted his jacket and scanned the area with concentration. Somehow, he didn’t think it was the rival gang, but he couldn’t let them know his reasons.

“I don’t think it’s the Slippery Rock gang,” Robert said as he looked at the body. “They wouldn’t have used a knife. That bunch would have taken us all out at once. They brought back those Thompsons from the war and like to use them.” “We need to get out of here,” Buck said to the rest of the band. “There could be more of them in the woods just waiting to kill us all. And what about the stock we left at our camp? If these are the Slippery Rock Boys, they’ll go right for it. We’d be left with our pants down and nothing to deliver to the buyers.” He picked up his shotgun and loaded two shells into it. “Yeah,” Bo agreed. “We need to get moving.” He gave orders, just like in the war, to the other men to break camp and head back to the base. “No reason to stay here another night,” he told them. “And keep a watch for any strange movement out there. Some of these old boys know the woods just as good as we do.” Howard kept his eyes on the terrain at all times while he rolled up his blanket. He didn’t think it was the rival gang. Just not their style. Someone wanted to send them a message. Perhaps it was the crazy lady they talked about, but crazy people seldom had the mental reasoning to carry out a murder such as this. It appeared to be the style of someone who wanted to see them all gone or dead. Howard worried the second option was what they had in mind. “Has anyone seen Buck?” Bo asked them, as they made ready to leave. The group packed everything quick and was ready to go in an hour. Buck wanted to take the body with them, but Bo overruled him and said it was a matter for the sheriff, who was in their pocket. He’d let the sheriff know where the body could be found after they delivered the hooch. They would give David’s share to his family. Let the law deal with whoever killed him. They would have to move their operations and the law could make things bad for Slippery Rock. Besides, everyone just wanted to get out of there. Narla watched them break camp and prepare to leave. The memories of what happened to her continued to flood her mind and she had a hard time to remain still on the tree branch where she watched them. Yesterday’s kill was easy. He didn’t even see her until she came up behind him and touched his shoulder. It was so much easier than a deer or bear as the tribesman didn’t even have fur over most of his body. One slash and he went down. She was careful to aim her

cut right below his face to do the most damage. When he went down, Narla wondered what to do about him. The body wasn’t of much use to her and she didn’t want to cause the others to scatter until the sun came up. She finally decided the man was best displayed in a way that would scare the others away from the forest. Narla spent an hour or so arranging the body in the best way possible. She even placed flowers all over him to let the others know it wasn’t a bear. Bears didn’t hurt people too often, but they had no way to know it. From her spot on the limb, she waited until one of the tribesmen would move in her range. She watched one of them argue with a man who appeared to be in charge. The rest packed and wanted to leave in a hurry. This wasn’t what Narla wanted. She wanted them to be scared and terrified of her. She wanted these men to know who was responsible and let the others know it would happen to them if they ever moved into the forest where she lived. She only needed one of them to survive and tell the others. Narla hopped down the tree limbs. She noticed one man had left the larger party and went back the body for some reason. He seemed to be angry. She didn’t want two of them in the same place and it would be hard to carry off any one of them. It was better the bodies be spaced out for maximum effect. This wasn’t too much of a problem since they were all ready to move and this would make it easy for her. Buck was headed back to the location of David’s body when he heard something hit the dirt behind him. He spun around with the shotgun, terrified it was one of the gang come back to finish the rest of them off. He didn’t see a thing behind him. Dammit, what kind of family would they be to leave David’s body back there to be chewed up by the animals? One of his uncles died in the woods years ago and they still talked about how disgusting he looked when he was found. Relieved there was nothing behind him, Buck adjusted his wool cap and turned back to the trail. He planned to haul David’s body back himself and tell the sheriff it was an accident. They could take care of the matter in the family and not have to involve outsiders. What kind of family was it where you had to bring in the law for what they needed to handle on your own? The law would make things worse for them. He began to hum and continued to the tree where David’s body was left.

Buck stopped. There was a pile of leaves in front of him. It blocked the trail. This wasn’t right; there had been anything in the middle of the trail when they went to examine David’s body the first time. He stopped and looked at the pile. It wasn’t very big and hugged the ground. Could some animal have swept it out here? Was it the wind? He went over and gave the pile a gentle kick, expecting it to move off the trail. The pile of leaves grabbed his ankle and pulled him to the ground. Out of the leaf pile, a figure emerged with mud for a body and matted hair for a head. Buck was terrified by the vision in front of him and froze. When it moved in his direction, he tried to find his shotgun, but it was too late. Narla was on top of him in seconds. Buck tried to push the demon off him, but she held onto his arm and had the advantage of surprise. Narla brought her knife down in an arch and stabbed Buck through the eye and into his brain. The last thing she saw was a tiny woman coated with dirt who plunged a knife into him. Buck gagged and was silent. Narla looked down at him as she wiped off her blade on his shirt. Next, she looked up and wondered how long it would take his friends to notice he was gone. Probably not, long. This would be the first place they’d look once someone noticed he wasn’t with the rest of the group. She wanted to prepare him as she’d don’t the other, but the flowers were out of the question. Narla drug him across the trail and positioned him on one of the many trees. She took out her knife and carved a pretty shape several times over him. This would let the rest of them know who did it. Hadn’t they told her how much she was loved when they got her into the car? She placed one hand on her head and tried to some more thoughts, but they were all so hard to recall. Robert was the one who took off first to find Buck. Bo watched him leave and then decided they all should accompany him. It was obvious Buck went back to get David’s body since he was no fan of leaving him. “I need to explain a few things to him,” he grumbled with the others who trailed behind. “I’m in charge here and he is going to do as I....” And then they found the body of Buck.

“A knife again,” Bo, said to the rest of the men as they glanced nervously at the trees. “Maybe you all will listen to me in the future. We have to get out of here now and don’t ask me about what to do with this body.” The men began to back out of the trail and headed in the direction of the broken campsite. Howard looked the body over carefully before he left. Who would care Valentine’s hearts into the body of a victim? Narla was very still again as the tribesmen came upon the body of the man she’d killed. She didn’t know if the leaf pile trick would work with him. It had with the bears and rabbits, but she didn’t know how much the tribesmen used smell to track their pray. She’d seen them move around in the past and didn’t understand how they found game. She used her eyes and sense of observation. The larger animals relied on smell a lot, but she could always out think them if she had to do it. Narla watched them move away quicker this time. It didn’t surprise her; they wanted to get away from her, even if they didn’t know where she was at the time. The only thing Narla had going for her was her stealth. She was half the size of most of those men and couldn’t engage them in a direct fight. However, like with the bears, she didn’t have to fight them if she wanted to kill one. She let them get far enough down the trail before she left her perch on the tree limb. Narla could smell the fear from them, which was good for her. She decided to wait before she struck again. It would take them a few hours to get out of her forest. In a few hours, they would become complacent again and she could strike once more. She had to be careful of those sticks they carried that made such a loud noise. She’s seen what they could do in the past and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. This time she followed them on the ground. The forest was quiet, but there were always plenty of animals in the background. She watched them use their sticks at a fox, but it was too fast for them. One of the tribesmen grabbed a man who’d used his stick too quick and an argument ensued. Hours later, one of the tribesmen fell back. He was a little bit tired and couldn’t keep up with the rest. Narla crept closer and closer each time, careful to avoid the sticks on the ground that might snap. All the years she’d lived in the forest taught her to watch out for anything that could make any noise. Several times,

she nearly starved after losing a rabbit when it heard her in the background. She crawled after the tribe on the ground and smelled the rich sent of soil as she went along. It was an odor that always managed to comfort her. Howard was scared. In all the years he’d worked as a government agent he’d never felt such terror. He was ready to tell the others who he really was, but they would kill him on the spot. Even if he took them out first, he’d still have to contend with whoever had killed the two men. Someone or something wanted them all dead. This couldn’t be the work of a rival bootlegger gang. If it were the Slippery Rock gang, his party would all be dead by now from bullets. The other two men were dead from a knife wound. A knife wound. Who used knives with such skill these days? A knife was the tool of a low-class thug, not a professional assassin. Whoever killed those men was a professional in every aspect. It was down to Bo, Robert, and Howard. Bo still led the group and Howard didn’t see any reason to argue. If they were attacked in the open, he might try to do things his way, but for now, it made sense to stay together and try to survive. Robert kept muttering under his breath about the crazy lady and Howard wanted to tell him to shut up. “It’s her, I tell you,” Robert kept saying. “She’s been out here for years. Ever since we found that purse from the city. I know she came with those men and they left her.” Robert had the gun loaded and constantly spun it in every direction. Howard, who was right in front of him stopped. “What did you just say about the purse and ‘those men’? He looked Robert directly in the face. “The ones I saw her with when they drove up here,” Robert gasped. He didn’t seem to be concentrating on what he said. “Robert, shut up!” Bo snapped in front of them both. “He doesn’t need to hear any of your ghost stories. I’m worried about the human kind after us!” Bo dropped his shotgun and aimed at some movement, but lifted it when she realized the source was a squirrel. “No, I want to hear what you were trying to tell me,” Howard grabbed him by the shoulder. He prayed they were too concerned about survival to wonder why

he wanted to know. “I saw five men and a woman drive up here in a car about ten years ago,” Robert told him, his eyes constantly on the trees. “They looked like they were having some party, but she looked scared. Right after that was when we started hearing about the crazy lady. I think she had something to do with them.” Robert pulled away and walked behind Bo. Howard kept his rifle ready, but he hoped it was a human killer he needed to worry about. What Robert told him was too similar to something from his past from ten years ago. Right after the doughboys came home from . He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Nancy, she would never come back. They never did find a body, but he’d used his connections to make sure the men responsible never would hurt anyone again. The sky was darkened by the section of the forest. This was a section of old growth where the trees grew together and blotted out the sunshine. Although it wasn’t even noon by his pocket watch, Howard was worried they wouldn’t make it out by dark to the camp where the bootleggers distilled the alcohol. He was worried about Robert and the way he continued to spin around with his shotgun, ready to shoot at anything. Like the rest of the crew, he was a mountain boy raised on the stories of Nittany lions, although they no longer roamed the hills. A mountain lion wouldn’t use a knife, Howard knew. Bo still walked out in front of both of them as if he was on picket duty back in . This was a different sort of danger. No gas shells fell from the sky, but they still had to worry about what might kill them. She almost had him. Howard fell back from the other two men on the trail. He was tired and wanted to get out of the forest, but they still had miles to walk. There was plenty of mud underfoot, the rain was heavy this fall and he’d spent plenty of time in it. Howard heard a sound of leaves behind him and turned around, expecting to see a squirrel again. It was a woman. She wasn’t that tall. The woman was naked, save for the mud all over her and the leaves that stuck in them. She stood there and looked at Howard for a few seconds before her knife came out. Howard brought up his rifle and she froze. The woman knew what it could do. She stood there in all her

glory and resembled something out of a fairy tale. And then a light of recognition came in her eye. She looked at him and seemed to something. Her knife went down and she changed personality before his eyes. “How-ard,” she forced herself to say. Narla seemed to something about this man now that she could see him up close. Her mind couldn’t recall much because of the stone that one of her rapists tried to kill her with that day. She tried hard to this man and what he once meant to her. There was too much damage in her head to allow Narla to put it all together. Nancy Adkins turned into Narla of the forest on that day six years ago and there was no going back. She wanted to . She wanted to badly. Howard watched as a single tear flow down her face. The shotgun blast from Bo ended her problems. Howard stood there and watched Nancy go down to the ground. “I got her,” Bo announced. “At least we know who was trying to kill us.” “And who killed David and Buck,” Robert agreed. They rushed over to the body. She died still with the knife in her hand. The three men looked her over and tried to figure out where she’d come from. It wasn’t easy to tell under the mud. Finally, Howard pushed the other two aside and scrapped some of the dirt away so they could get a good look at her. The face seemed familiar. “Lookitthat!” Robert yelled. “She’s got a ring on her finger!” Howard knelt over and slipped it off her hand. It was loose because she still weighed a lot less than she did years ago after living in the forest. The mark on her head was consistent from what the man had confessed to him. The ring he’d given her before she was abducted confirmed it. “Damn,” Bo sighed, “That was one crazy bitch. You have to split the ring with us, Howie. We’re all in this together.”

“I guess we are,” Howard agreed. “Good shot, by the way. I learned to shoot too while I was in the army. Is that where you learned?” “Hell,” Robert said. “We’ve all been shooting since we were kids. Let’s get out of here, no reason to stick around, we plugged the crazy lady and that’s all the law will want to know.” “True,” Howard told him. “You guys want to know something?” Howard cradled his rifle as he backed up in the woods. “What?” Bo laughed. “You got something special to tell us? After today I don’t need to learn anything new.” “You need to learn this,” Howard explained. “I’m with the federal government. You’re both under arrest.” The bootleggers went for their guns, but Howard was faster. As he ripped holes in the drums of hooch and let them drain on the ground, Howard thought about what his official story would be. He’d buried her deep in the woods and she wasn’t supposed to still be alive anyway. The other bootleggers might be a problem, but he could always claim a fight broke out over the way the money was split. He’d done his job and that was all his employers would care about. Some jobs needed to be finished on your own.

THE SCREAMS OF GHOSTS

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ALEXIS RAYE

As she was about to close her email for the night and go to sleep, Sara heard that familiar little beep. A new message was waiting for her. It was an email sent through her YouTube , which she had filtered as soon as her channel had taken off. It was only 9 months ago that she started ing videos of her adventures but she had really started ghost hunting years earlier. As a kid, she and her brother would dare each other to go into the creepy abandoned houses on the other side of town. They fascinated her with their old architecture and their decrepit walls. She couldn’t believe that houses that looked so lifeless, used to be alive with the sounds of families. Somehow, they never scared her, though she pretended to be for her brother. She truly loved exploring them. What she loved even more was the attention she got from telling her friends about her brave trips inside. She never had enough of that. From the age of 8 and all the way through high school, she regaled anyone who would listen of dark stories filled with supernatural events that she made up off the cuff. Not everyone believed her but it was hard to deny how good of a story teller she was. And as a new college graduate from a media arts school, she had dedicated her first year of adulthood into creating this persona of an extreme ghost hunter. Her success was overwhelming, even to her, and her fame seemed to grow exponentially every day. She was now even recognized on the street and asked for autographs. That, of course, made all of her sleepless nights and uncomfortable overnight stays in creepy old houses worth it. The email was still bold as she clicked on it. It was an invitation to fly across the country to Louisiana sent from “The Conservation Collective of Pre-Civil War Phantasmal Plantations”. She read it carefully. Dear Ms. Sara Elliot, The Conservation Collective of Pre-Civil War Phantasmal Plantations would like to extend an invitation for you and your crew to spend a night in one of our oldest and most spectral houses. It is called “The Lynch Plantation” named after its original owner, although its name holds appropriately with its history. Mr. Lynch was said to be the cruelest man in the south and lynched all of his slaves when he found out that the war had been won by the north. Surprisingly though, his story is not the one that the locals . Called Pi Beta Die by the

locals, this house’s last use was to house a sorority for the local university. 15 years ago, the maintenance man assigned to the house had a psychotic break and killed all 24 of the sorority then hung himself on the porch outside. It is our belief that the Lynch Plantation’s history is enough to interest you but to further encourage you to create an episode for this house, we have arranged all of your travel and accommodations. You will see the details in the attached document. The Conservation Collective of Pre-Civil War Phantasmal Plantations seeks to get more publicity and therefore more funding for our cause so please send your reply as soon as possible. Best Wishes, The CCWPP She was hooked. Instead of going to bed as planned, she stayed up all night reading and researching the sordid history of the plantation. It was even more incredible, terrifying and mysterious than they had let on in the email. She knew that a night in this house would solidify her as YouTube’s leading Ghost Hunter and may even lead to her getting her own show. She knew her fans well. They would love the creepy historical aspect and eat up the sorority massacre with a spoon. When she was too excited to wait, she dialed the number of her main camera tech Lila. “Its 6:45am Sara, you better have actually seen a ghost,” she grumbled. Lila wasn’t a morning person and she had known Sara for long enough to know that most of her “ghost sightings” were fake and in fact was one of the people responsible for how real their “encounters” looked. “Lila, if you wake up now and listen, I’ll buy you Starbucks and give you a raise,” Sara said. She knew Lila couldn’t resist coffee. “What is it?” she asked, sighing. Sara beamed with enthusiasm. She knew that it was coming across through the phone because as she explained the email, Lila became more and more alert and excited.

“This could be huge for us Sara!” “So you’re in?” Sara said, knowing that she didn’t even need to ask. “Duh!” “Ok ,we have to get the guys to agree too.” Sara coached. “Just promise them an adventure and to keep them when you get your own show,” Lila said nonchalantly. Of course the rest of the crew would agree. The guys were in their mid-twenties and could be pacified with a cheeseburger. The next few days were filled with preparation. Sara responded to the email to agree to the trip and outlined what she needed when they arrive and explained who she was bringing. The impression she got from the responses were that the more the merrier. Finally, they were all on a plane from Washington to Louisiana. The guys slept the whole way, snoring loudly of course. Sara and Lila sat together to write the script for the background and opening. They would shoot the outside of the plantation and house during the day and have shots of Sara explaining all the details she found about the mass lynching and murders. By time they arrived, Sara and Lila had all of their shots planned and a script all laid out. Even though they were itching to go straight to the old house, The Conservation Collective of Pre-Civil War Phantasmal Plantations insisted they check into a hotel and get settled and rested. They would begin their investigation and shooting tomorrow. They were all smiles and splurged on room service and watched TV on the flat screen. The hotel was obviously very old but well-kept and the rooms were modernized for the guests’ comfort. The lobby was small but elegant with two rows of white pillars that led out to the street. After they were stuffed, they decided they needed to walk it off by exploring the bustling town around them. It was a warm October night so they skipped their jackets and made their way down the old fashioned road. The buildings were tall and thin and the antique street lights cast long shadows against them which no one else seemed to notice. The group weaved their way in and out of the busy streets watching the locals as they enjoyed the many bars and cafes. Andrew, one of the sound techs was mesmerized by the voodoo shops he saw and dragged Colin, another camera guy, in with him. He bought them all incense and they laughed as they all wandered the streets with the potent twigs. Finally they settled on a quiet smoky

café. Knowing they had to be awake and alert the next day, they all opted for coffee or tea. As they sipped the delicious, hot beverages, they began to discuss the plan for the next day. “Ok, I think we should be all packed by 11am. I want to make sure we can get to the location and have plenty of time to explore the plantation before sunset. We also need time to shoot the outside shots with the narrative and set up camp inside for the night,” Sara said. “I agree,” Lila said. “Colin, I know you have that 4k camera that can work in low light. Hoorah for that. I was thinking we'll start outside and work our way in. We'll shoot like we always do, start in the living room, I'll explain the history of the house then we'll pretend we'll hear something and head upstairs.” “You want me to add a sound effect in post?” Colin asked. “Yeah, of course,” Lila said. “As long as its not too cheesy. Has to sound real. Like a ghost screaming or something.” “I have no idea what that would sound like,” Colin laughed. Lila covered her mouth and made a groaning sound. “Like that.” “Sounds like a bullfrog with indigestion.” Well, you know what I mean. We'll worry about all that later.” “Done deal.” “Of course, we will have to wait until we see it in person to make the final decisions but Sara and I have pretty much memorized the property maps and house floorplans.” Lila finished. “How creepy is it that it’s called “Lynch”?” Andrew said. Matt, their back-end video editor, chewed on some cookies as Andrew glanced his way. “What? Just cuz I’m black you look at me?” Matt said jokingly. Andrew gave him a little, playful shove and they laughed.

“I’m just saying...” Andrew said with a laugh, “If there is some sort of evil ghost there... you might be the first to go.” Colin nudged Matt, “Don’t worry man, I got your back!” Then they all started laughing. Sara really enjoyed her crew. They were as silly as they were serious and worked as hard as she did. But they also brought her out of her head and gave her time to be sarcastic and have fun. She smiled at them. Then she saw a young woman lean over to Andrew. “Excuse me... Uh... were you talking about going to the Lynch Plantation?” she asked, looking more than a little concerned. Andrew grinned, apparently not picking up on her trepidation. “Yep! First thing tomorrow!” The blood drained from her face. “Why... why would you go there?” she asked, her voice shaking. “See that girl over there?” Andrew pointed to Sara. The girl nodded and Sara gave a little wave. “Well she is a ghost hunter and also a tiny dictator. We go where she tells us,” he said sarcastically. A tone this young woman missed. She looked directly at Sara. “You need to stay away from there.” Sara laughed nervously. “Oh come on... It’s just a house. We will be there one night and that will be it.” The young woman looked even more terrified. “You’re staying the night?!” she asked. Her voice carried enough that the rest of the people in the café turned to look at them. The soft music in the background stopped playing. Sara and her team suddenly were the center of attention. Something that Sara was only comfortable with when it was filmed, not live. She looked at all the faces staring back at her. “Yea... that was part of the contract. My team and I have been paid to make a show for it... to raise money to restore it. It will bring more tourism to this town.” “Restore it?” the young woman asked. “We don’t want it restored and we

certainly don’t want any tourists coming here only to be killed by going in that house.” The other patrons in the place nodded their heads in agreement. “Listen, I have been all over the United States. I have stayed in over a hundred haunted houses. Nothing violent has ever happened and no one has ever been hurt.” Sara said, choosing her words wisely. She wanted to tell them that all of this ghost business was crazy and that she had never encountered anything supernatural, but she didn’t want that to get out and damage her show’s credibility. “All due respect... you’ve never stayed in this house.” Another guy said from the corner. Sara’s crew looked around at the petrified faces. “So none of you ever go there? Even out of curiosity?” Colin asked. “The last person that went there out of curiosity was found hanging from the porch the next day.” The young woman replied. “Maybe he was depressed and chose to off himself there.” Andrew suggested while rolling his eyes. If anyone was a skeptic, it was him. “He was my brother,” she said. Andrew looked mortified and wished his tea had a shot of whiskey in it. “Oops,” he muttered, wishing he could say more. “I’m sorry for your loss but we were paid to do something and we never back out of a contract.” Sara said while Andrew stared at the table in front of him. “Now, I think we should be going.” She said as they all stood up. They shuffled out of the café and began walking towards the hotel quietly. They were all silently trying to brush off the many warnings they had just heard and get their excitement back. “It’s ok guys, some places just really buy into this crap.” Lila offered. “Yeah... but we have never had that reaction from any other location,” Matt said. “Those folks are serious about this shit.”

“Come on guys,” Sara said. “This is a beautiful, creepy, historic building. It’s going to be great, AND safe.” They were probably just hazing the out of towners. I bet they're probably in there right now laughing their asses off at scaring us. Well, we'll let them think that way.” “Hey, uh... excuse me! Wait!” They heard someone say behind them. They turned. It was another young woman who had been listening silently in the café. She ran up to them and stopped. “Sorry, its just... we were wondering... who paid you to come here?” “Um, it’s a group called The Conservation Collective of Pre-Civil War Phantasmal Plantations. I believe they and restore these kinds of places all over the south and have a lot in this area. I looked them up, their headquarters is just on the other side of town next to a Piggly Wiggly on 2nd street.” Sara replied. The girl looked around at the group with a strange expression. “That part of town has been completely abandoned for 10 years. There was a hurricane that destroyed it and we didn’t have enough money to restore it... and as far as I know, there has never been a group by that name in this area. And I have lived her my whole life. I really don’t think you should go to the plantation... someone is setting you up.” Sara looked uneasy but Andrew stepped forward. “Listen, we appreciate your concern but I am sure there is a reasonable explanation. No one would spend this much money on a prank. Now tell all your buddies at the café that we aren’t backing down.” Sara looked at the girl. If anyone had spoken to her like that she would have just let them walk straight into a moving car. But this girl stood there with panic on her face. She knew she couldn’t say more but still looked like she wanted to stop them somehow. Her facial expression gave Sara goosebumps but before she could even consider breaking the contract, Andrew and Colin started leading her toward the hotel. “This town is full of crazies.” Matt said under his breath. CHAPTER TWO

Sara didn’t sleep well that night. The scene in the café played in her head over and over. She lay awake listening to everyone else snoring. Finally, she flopped over to look at the clock. It was 3:19 am. She groaned quietly. She thought about how excited she had been for this and managed to talk herself back into the adventure before her, deciding that the townies just didn’t get out much and had possibly seen too many movies. She fell asleep. By 11am exactly, their van was packed and any trace of hesitation from the night before was gone and the silliness had returned. Colin was shooting footage of their drive on his phone. Sara and Lila were taking selfies with all of the equipment. Andrew was driving, as always and Matt was snoozing in the front seat. After a 40 minute drive, ing through the town, driving past the university, they finally pulled up to a large flat expanse. There was a dirt road jetting off to the left and a large sign above it that was covered in dust. Matt jumped out and managed to jump up to wipe the dust away. Sure enough it said “LYNCH”. Colin couldn’t help it, and he jumped out to take a picture of Matt standing under the sign with both hands flipping him off and a huge grin. They all giggled and rolled their eyes. Then they took off down the dusty dirt road. The large house grew as they neared it. “I knew it was a mansion but I guess I didn’t think it would be this big.” Lila said. “What do you think a sorority was thinking in buying something like this?” Sara asked. “Simple, they could have keggers and ragers without the neighbors complaining.” Colin said. He was the only one who had been a part of Greek life. A part of his past he tried to suppress. They pulled up to the front of the house and climbed out. For a moment they just stood, appreciating its old fashion beauty and its size. It was gigantic. The wrap around porch alone was bigger than Sara’s apartment. Sara and Matt continued to look over the house and the land while Lila, Colin and Andrew unpacked the equipment. When they finished, Lila walked up to Sara to make a game plan. “It’s hard to believe that the townspeople wouldn’t want to save this place. It’s so beautiful.” Sara whispered.

“I know. Like look over there! Past that field it looks like there is a pond and small wooded area. And this tree over here would be great for a giant swing...” Lila said as she approached an old Oak tree that was closest to the house. “Its really big. Like really big. This is going to be our best shoot yet,” Sara said. “Where should we start?” Lila asked. Sara looked around thoughtfully. “Ummm... let’s begin with the civil war history of the plantation and slaves with the fields in the background. Then I will walk to the tree and end at the porch when I talk about the sorority massacre. Got it?” Lila nodded once and set up her camera. She began rolling as Sara started to talk. “Hello, today we are in Louisiana at their best kept secret haunted destination. The Lynch Plantation is over 200 years old and has a most interesting history. Built by a Slave trader and his wife in the early 1800s, this plantation was one of the largest and most profitable in the area. Although aptly named for the fate of over 300 slaves, the Lynch plantation actually received its name from the slave trader who built it. James and Mary Lynch became exceedingly wealthy from the cotton cultivated here. Once the war was won by the north, they knew that their way of life would never be the same. Already know to be a cruel master, James Lynch decided that his final act of rebellion against the north was to kill all of the slaves he held. Most of them were hung from the branches of this oak tree but the younger children and smaller women were drown in the pond at the back of the property. Then the bodies were collected, placed in a pile and burned at the entrance where you can still see bits of burn marks today. Only 5 years after the mass lynching, Mary Lynch suffered a psychotic break, claiming that the ghosts of those she helped kill were haunting her. She stabbed her husband and then hung herself on the porch right here. But perhaps the most famous suicide on this porch was that of mass murderer Gary Lindale. Gary, a maintenance man from the university was hired specifically to look after the needs of this house while it served as the Pi Theta Kai sorority house. He lived in a small servant house that used to stand just over there but has since been demolished. One night, Lindale snapped, much like Mary Lynch and went on a murdering spree killing every single sorority girl inside. He then called 911, left the phone off the hook and

hung himself in the exact same place as Mary. This house certainly is one of our more chilling explorations and we invite you to us for a night at the Lynch Plantation.” Sara said and stopped. That was the cue for Lila to stop rolling. It never ceased to amaze her that Sara could do these on the first take with no notes in front of her. She was a natural. “Let’s say we explore, take pictures and maybe some landscape footage?” Sara asked Lila and Colin. Andrew and Matt were right behind, having a heated debate about which sorority girls they thought were the best partiers. Sara and Lila tuned them out, focusing on the expanse in front of them. The sun beat down and even in midOctober, the heat made them sweat. For a moment, Sara imagined what it would have been like to harvest in this heat as a slave. She let herself mourn the loss of the hundreds of innocent lives. She didn’t believe in the afterlife so she hoped that death was a welcomed rest for them. They explored until the sun got low in the sky. “Guys we should go inside and set up now.” Matt said, turning to the house. They picked up the equipment from the ground outside and walked up the creaking steps to the front door. Lila pulled out a small camera and filmed Sara as she turned the doorknob and pushed. The door gave way with a small squeak. They slowly made their way inside. The entry way was covered in dust but other than that, it looked as though the owners had just stepped out for a moment. There was furniture set up as if company was expected. The long dining room table was set as though the sorority girls were going to sit down to dinner together. They made their way down the hall and through each room. Colin and Lila were shooting footage of everything. Finally they made their way to the living room. It was beautifully decorated and the fireplace even had logs in it ready to be lit. “Matt and I will set up the cameras in the rooms and upstairs. Lila, you and Colin make sure that the feeds are working and tell us about positioning.” Andrew ordered. He was excited. While the rest were busy with their tasks. Sara decided to watch the footage they had gotten before including her intro. She sat on the dusty old sofa and turned on the camera. The footage was even better than she had hoped and for a moment, she was extremely grateful that she had found such talent in Lila. As the video wrapped up she saw the frame of the entire

house. Once more she took in the beauty until she noticed something. She paused the video and zoomed in. Up on the second floor in one of the bedroom windows stood a woman in a very old dress staring directly into the camera. Sara took in a huge gasp of air and blinked. She looked again and the figure remained. She waved her hand toward Lila. “What is it Sara?” She asked seeing Sara’s horrified face. “Colin, can you see me? How is this?” They heard from the microphone attached to the camera that Andrew was placing. Lila moved over and looked at what Sara was pointing at. They replayed that part of the video and they were both speechless. They continued to watch through to the end and that was when they saw something even more startling. As Sara had approached the porch and was explaining Mary’s hanging, the woman disappeared from the window and suddenly appeared right behind Sara holding a noose. They both gasped in fear. “That’s good Andrew, I think that’s the best shot.” Colin said into the walkie talkie. Sara and Lila looked up to see the screen that Colin was watching. The video feed was of Andrew in the same room that the woman had been in in the video. “Andrew!” They both shrieked. Colin jumped in surprise. “What?!” Andrew said from right behind them. They jumped and turned to him. “How... you were just...” Sara stuttered. “There is a 30 second delay. Geez what’s wrong with you two?” He asked. They showed him the video while Colin helped Matt navigate setting up a camera in another room on the second story. Andrew was just as stunned as they were. “I was just in there and there was nothing weird...” He said trying to talk himself down. Then Lila got an idea. “Colin play back the footage you have of Andrew setting up the camera.” She said.

“What..? Why?” He asked confused. He had been too distracted to hear their conversation. “Just do it.” Sara screeched. He did and they saw the room in night vision. It glowed in a soft green and they saw Andrew fumbling with the equipment. “How long have you been doing this for now Andrew?” Colin teased but no one laughed. Then just as Andrew leaned over to place the camera and backed away they saw her. The woman was right behind him holding a noose. Colin, who hadn’t heard anything before that jumped back and screamed. “What the F***?!” They watched Andrew leave the room and the woman with the noose remained staring into the camera, unmoving. Then finally she turned her head and seemed to float out of the room. They sat watching the camera in silence until the walkie talkie beeped, startling all of them. “Colin, Colin! Is this ok? I don’t want to be up here alone any longer. It gives me the creeps!” Matt said. Colin immediately switched the video feed to Matt’s camera only to see a close up of his face. Sara held her breath. She wondered if the woman would appear in that room too. She grabbed the walkie talkie. “Matt... uh... can you back up so we can see the room.” She said with her voice shaking. They watched for 30 seconds and then saw him nod at the camera and back away. Just as they got a glimpse of the room, the feed cut and they heard a thud. “Matt!” Sara screamed. They watched the screen and saw that it was flashing between black and night vison. When it stopped flashing, it showed something that drained Sara’s blood. It was the woman holding the noose and standing next to a tall man in the same period clothing. And at the bottom of the screen they could see Matt’s still body. Andrew and Colin jumped up and ran to the staircase. Lila and Sara could hear

their heavy footsteps above them. Lila stared at the screen with a strange expression on her face. “Wait... that man... I’ve... I’ve seen him before. She reached for her laptop and opened it to a bookmarked page. It was an article from a newspaper covering the massacre of the sorority sisters. There were pictures of all 24 victims and a picture of the man who killed them. It was the same man. Sara and Lila looked at both images in utter confusion. Then the feed from the room was cut completely and just as suddenly, the power went out. The darkness surrounded them and they screamed. In the corner of the room, a giant clock struck the hour. It was only 10 pm but it felt so much later. After the last chime, the power came back on and everything was quiet. Lila and Sara first checked to make sure the other was ok then looked around them. But when they looked at the walls, both felt as though the wind had been knocked out of them. All of the paintings, pictures and decorations were upside down. They bolted up and ran to the stairway. As they climbed they saw the upside down portraits smiling sadistically at them. That’s when Lila first saw it. Blood splatter on the wall. It looked fresh. “Andrew! Colin! Matt!!??” She screamed and they ran up the stairs. “Down here.” Andrew’s calm voice beckoned them to the last room on the right. Matt was sitting on the floor and Andrew was standing next to him. Colin was fiddling with the camera. “I just told him what we saw.” Andrew explained. “He doesn’t believe me.” Matt was clutching his head. “What happened? Did they get you?” Sara asked breathlessly. “Not you too... listen guys this isn’t funny ok? My head hurts from knocking it on that shelf and I am not in the mood for a practical joke.” Sara was about to try to reassure him that it was no joke when they heard the door behind them creak. They turned to see a beautiful blond girl standing in the doorway. Her hair was disheveled and there was blood dripping from the side of her mouth and oozing from her sides and arms. “He’s coming. You’d better run... although it never helped any of us.” She said as her cold blue eyes looked past them to the

window. Then the lights went out again and flashed back on. She was gone and all that remained was a bloody hand print on the door frame. “Believe me now?” Andrew said. Sara had no idea how he could care about that at a time like this. “We need to leave.” Sara said rushing to the door. But as she ran into the hall, she saw the same man as before wearing modern clothes and wielding a large knife. She saw blood splatter l lining the walls. He was blocking their way to the stairs. She looked around at the other bedroom doors that were slightly ajar. None of them would protect them. Then she looked up. There was a rope that pulled down a ladder to the attic. “You guys!” She said as she yanked it. The man at the end of the hall started walking slowly towards her, undeterred by her possible escape. They all scrambled up the ladder and slammed the entry way shut before the man with the knife could reach them. They heard nothing. They sat in the dusty attic and silently tried to think of how to escape from the top floor of a mansion without going back into it. Though they were not really safer than before, the attic gave them a false sense of security and they all tried to breathe. Lila looked over at a box near them. She pulled out a very old painting. Though it was dark, she could make out that it was a couple. She pulled out her phone and used the light to look at the image. When she saw it clearly, she nearly dropped it. It was the same man and woman they had seen in the video. But not only that, the man was identical to the mass murderer who killed the sorority girls 15 years prior. She read the bottom of the frame, “Mr. and Mrs. Lynch”. “Guys...” She said and showed the picture to the others. “So what was this guy reincarnated or whatever?” Andrew asked. It was strange to hear that from a skeptic. Just then, the ladder to the attic began to shake. They all looked around to find a way out. There was a tiny window at the other end of the attic. They ran over and Colin broke the old glass with his foot. Sara slid out first and they lowered her on to a part of the roof over the second story. Then it was Lila’s turn. When they were both out, they crawled along the shingles to find a place they could

climb down to the ground. They found nothing. By time the guys had slipped out, they had found the only possible way off the roof was to lower down into one of the bedroom windows. Andrew went first to break the window and help grab the others. Lila went first, then Colin. When it was Sara’s turn she briefly looked around the property and the dirt road. The moon was much brighter than she thought it was and it lit the whole plantation. That was how she saw him. There standing against an old truck was a man, just watching the house and watching them climbing in. He didn’t move. “Do you see that man?” She asked Matt. He looked to where she was pointing and shivered. Something about the man by the truck gave him a sickening feeling. “Yea... but we can’t worry about him right now. We have to get out of here.” Matt said. He helped her lower down then quickly climbed down himself. They all made their way to the door and into the hall. Just as soon as they had stepped into the hall, the man reappeared with his bloody knife. “Into the rooms!” Andrew screamed and they split up into each room. They slammed the doors and turned the latches, each praying that the doors would hold from the phantom killer. But no sooner had they each locked the doors when a chorus of screams sounded. Hearing this, Sara turned around to face the room she was in. There was blood everywhere. The walls were covered and there on the bed was the body of a dead girl who had been stabbed over 10 times. Sara let out a cry. She heard the same sound come from Lila in the room next to her. They were all seeing the crime scenes of the girl that had died in each room. Tears rolled down Sara’s face. She ran to the window to try to open it. She would jump if she had to. A broken leg was better than dying. But it wouldn’t budge. “It won’t open. They are nailed shut from the outside. He was very clever.” A voice said from behind her. Sara turned to see the dead girl sitting up on her bed, the blood still dripping out of her wounds. He lifeless eyes seemed to look right through Sara. Sara screamed and rammed herself against the window. She would break the glass if she had to.

“You’ll never make it. He planned this too well. The others that live here are loyal to him. They will help him to kill you. Just like they did for us.” The dead girl said. Blood sprayed out of her mouth as she spoke but she didn’t seem to notice. Sara tried not to look at her but felt a pulling sensation and her eyes were drawn back to the blood soaked girl on the bed. As soon as she made eye the lights went out again then flashed back on. The room was clean and the girl was gone. Then the door swung open. But the hall was empty. Sara poked her head out just enough to see her crew doing the same. They bolted towards the stairs only to see 24 bloody girls standing at the bottom staring up at them. “He likes the chase. He likes the chase.” They all chanted in a haunting harmony. Then they began climbing the stairs. They turned back to the hallway to see the man with the blade and the woman with the noose. They moved towards them, slowly at first but then began to speed up, disappearing and reappearing closer and closer. Colin panicked and ran into the closest bedroom and slammed the door. Sara could him them trying to break the window. The woman with the noose smiled as she walked right through the door. There was a crashing sound then a thud. Then the door swung open slowly. Lila ran in to see if Colin had made it but as soon as she peered out the window she let out a horrible scream. She saw Colin swinging below from a noose. She turned back to look at her friends in horror but the door slammed shut once more and both phantoms were gone. Seconds later there were terrible screams and then a gurgling sound. And once more the door swung open slowly. Lila was on the bed covered in her own blood with stab marks all over her body. Her eyes were looking up to the ceiling as if looking a God. Sara almost ran into her but Matt grabbed her. He turned to look at the mob of dead sorority girls who stood staring with vacant expressions repeating, “He likes the chase.” “Help us!” He screamed. They ignored him. He grabbed Sara’s arm and pulled her into the crowd. “They aren’t going to hurt us. They are his victims.” He said and he and Sara ran down the stairs. Andrew couldn’t move, he was frozen in fear. Andrew had never believed in the supernatural and couldn’t process it. Matt and Sara ran to

the front door and flung it open. Sara was about to yell for Andrew but at that very moment they saw a body drop from above the porch and swing in the same spot that Mary Lynch and Gary Lindale had hung themselves year before. “Andrew!!!” Sara screamed. Matt dragged her to the car and fumbled with the keys. Finally he opened the doors and they both got inside and locked the doors. Sara looked at the house, now able to see it clearly in the moonlight. She saw Andrew’s and Colin’s bodies hanging from their nooses and looked up to the bedroom where Lila had been murdered. In the window stood the man with the knife. Next to him, stood a lifeless Lila. In all of the other windows, the Sorority sisters stood looking out into the night with their dead stares. Matt revved the engine and turned the van sharply to get back on the dirt road. That’s when they saw the man with the truck. He stared at them. His gaze was unwavering. After a few moments he got in his truck and turned on his bright lights. Then he revved his engine and slammed on the accelerator. He was driving right at them. “What the F*** is he doing?” Matt asked in shock. He didn’t have time or room to get out of the way and Sara braced herself for the impact. But as soon as the truck would have touched the front fender, it disappeared. Matt looked around and in the rear view mirror. There was no sign of it. “Just go!” Sara yelled. And they did. They drove to the police station and told them everything that had happened. The police refused to go to the house until the morning and Matt and Sara stayed in their cell the rest of the night. In the morning they all went back. It was just as they had left it. The police did their reports and the coroner was called. When they had gotten all their equipment out, Sara asked if they could leave. One of the cops agreed to take them back to their hotel and they climbed in the back of a car. Sara let her look once more at the big house. She looked up at the room where Lila had died. There in the window was Lila looking back at her. She waved a sad goodbye and disappeared. Sara was institutionalized a week later and this is the only story she will ever tell.

FORBIDDEN TARA MONROE

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CHAPTER ONE John had visited the diner before opening time for seven months now. The first time happened by accident. He needed to return some of Steve's fishing equipment and decided to drop it off at the man's place of business instead of his house. When he arrived, he found Steve's wife Kim, setting up shop alone. They talked. Or rather she talked and he listened. Then he doesn't what came over him. He just started kissing her. And she kissed him back. He had always had a crush on her, going back to their high school days. He ired the long delicacy of her legs from afar for years. He spent the rest of his days looking furtively at her high small breasts, the flex and lift of her thighs as she walked. For whatever reason, she had picked Steve and that did make him resentful as he felt that Steve had taken her exquisite beauty for granted. Steve and John had been equally laid back in personality. They were both quiet and shy but Steve had been more aggressive in his pursuit of Kim. John had simply let his friend take away the girl of his dreams. He ed on their wedding day, how Kim saw him in the audience and gave him that look. A look that said 'I'm sorry.' John never forgot that look. He thought about her every night, compared every woman he had ever dated to her until finally it all came to a head on that early

morning in November. He felt guilt-ridden after each of their trysts but he could not deny that each session had grown in intensity and ion. He never met someone that wanted his affection so badly, someone so grateful of their time together. John made no demands that Kim love him and vice-versa. But he knew that she hoped that would come later, a commitment free from guilt. They just didn't know hot to get there. They usually fucked in the back room of the diner. Now they just made sure all of the shades were drawn, locking all the doors and making sure the sign outside read “CLOSED” as they used the pool table as a bed. If the customers only knew, John thought as Kim rode him like a cowgirl, feeling the hard green felt of the pool table against his back and buttocks. Freddy Fender's “I'll Be There Before The Next Tear Drop Falls,” played on the stereo. He once asked why she always played that song and she said it reminded her of her parents. She said they played that song when they used to slow dance on the front porch on a hot Texas night. John ran his hands up Kim's small breasts, noticing that she had a slight paunch to her waist now. They weren't teenagers anymore but John didn't care. Maybe that is what she loved about him. He would always see her as this beautiful seventeen year old that never aged, even twenty years later. She went up and down his shaft slowly, eager to please him and herself. He reached up and caressed her cheek with his forefingers. “You're always so tender,” she said. He smiled and enjoyed the sight of her naked body. The freckles on top of her bcup breasts, the piercing on her navel jangling, the early morning sun peering through from a crease in the shades, back-lighting her hair. John heard a vehicle pull up outside the diner, wheels on gravel. “There's a car coming,” he whispered.

“That's not a car,” she said, convulsing in pleasure. Steve laid on his stomach fifty yards away from the diner, propping himself up by his elbows. He camouflaged himself in the woods, taking cover behind a thick oak tree. He had the front door of the diner in the scope of his rifle. Steve thought about Lee Harvey Oswald and how his former drill sergeant would brag on how a well-trained Marine sniper could hit a moving target from 265 feet. He imagined how his sergeant would chastise him if he missed the shot here at a much closer distance. He pricked his ears and could hear the tinny noise of Kim's favorite song playing from the diner's speakers. He imagined his friend pinning his wife to the wall, pumping and thrusting while she gave out those little soft moans of pleasure that once upon a time tricked Steve into thinking that he was the only man she would ever need. Since he had married Kim, Steve had developed a sixth sense for men who were interested in her. Not a week went by without some trucker trying to hit on her but one look from Steve's piercing eyes and that would stop. He had to it that Kim always had a beautiful figure and he couldn't blame anyone for falling for her. He had never seen a better figure anywhere, on anybody. She used to watch her weight carefully, never going above one hundred-twenty. Now she weighed about ten or fifteen pounds more but seemed to be more beautiful as her face looked less gaunt. Steve would have never suspected the two of having an affair until he saw them give each other a sideways glance at a street fair. A meeting of the eyes that lasted just a hair too long. Steve and John had been through too much and had too much history for him to ever consider this kind of betrayal. They were best friends since junior high going on through high school and then served in Desert Storm together. They were like brothers, inseparable, with the same sense of humor and interests. They were both quiet and stubborn, realizing that those two things went together quite often.

They were almost the same. Almost the same, Steve thought as he cocked the rifle. But one of us has honor, the other doesn't. The front door of the diner stood frozen in his scope, between the cross hairs. Steve laid motionless and waited. Like a sniper on duty in Fallujah. CHAPTER TWO John racked the balls on the pool table, rolling them on the green felt. Kim walked up behind him, fixing her hair in a hand-held mirror before taking the pool stick out of his hand. “It keeps getting better and better,” she said. “I can't resist you but-” he spun around, feeling her breasts pressed up against his chest. “We made a mistake, John,” she said. “I made a mistake. Years ago. I should have-” “We can undo the past,” John said, interrupting. “And what we're doing now has to stop.” “No,” Kim said. “It can't.” “It has to,” John shook his head as if fighting voices inside his head. “The guilt is killing me. It will kill both of us.” “John,” she whispered. “Don't do this to me.” He took the pool stick out of her hand and stepped to the table, sending the cue ball through with a smacking shot. “Its this place,” John said. “This whole town. People never leave and don't see what else is out there. So they cling to what is safe. Convenient.”

He set up for another shot and hit the cue ball hard. The crack of the pool stick hitting the white ball resonated throughout the diner as he knocked the eight ball into the hole. “Okay, fine,” Kim said. “Let's play it safe for awhile. I won't call you, I won't text you.” “Then he'll really get suspicious,” John said. “What's he gonna say when I don't show up for Sunday football or Saturday night fights?” “See?” Kim said. “No way out. I don't want to hurt him. You have to understand that. But I can't live without you.” “But where does it lead?” John asked. “We can't keep hiding and then pretending. How long can this keep going on? Just keep doing this year after year like we're in a prison. Lying and hiding every damn day!” He threw the pool stick onto the table. Kim shuddered, surprised at his sudden outburst. John walked over to the window, opening the blinds. “You should look like you're open for business now,” he said, looking back at his lover. She lit a cigarette and brought it slowly to her lips, inhaled, held the smoke in her lungs and then slowly blew it out. He wondered what she was thinking, she always had a secretive look about her. Sweat stood in tiny droplets near her forehead, courtesy of their last fuck session. “I should, shouldn't I?” she said, walking toward the door and turning over the CLOSED sign. Watching her body, watching her move, John realized how futile it was to try and end things. Looking at Kim was like looking at an angel, something very ancient and very perfect, something descended down to his life from somewhere cruel.

To taunt him with something he could never have. Steve watched as John left the diner. Getting him in his cross hairs of the scope, he followed Steve as he mounted his motorcycle. Harley-Davidson riding mother fucker. Steve gulped hard. One pull of the trigger and the man who betrayed him would be gone from the face of the earth. John's motorcycle started up, the rumble of the engine announcing his virility to Steve. Then he rode off, the wheels of his bike kicking dirt up into the air. Steve followed him with his scope, tempting to pull the trigger until John faded into the distance. Steve put the rifle down in the dirt. There had to be a better way. He wanted to let John know that he knew about the affair. He wanted John to see his face before he killed him. CHAPTER THREE Kim knew that it couldn't last. She just couldn't help herself. John had a way about him that Steve didn't. She knew John had always loved her but played it off like he didn't. But when he was finally confronted with those feelings, when they were finally alone, it was like a spark that turned into fire of cataclysmic proportions. He made love to her with such tenderness and ferocity at the same time. Steve would be one and done, mechanical. John made her feel as if she were experiencing sex for the first time. She blamed her acquiescence to low self-esteem. She chose to stay at the diner and work for John's mom until she ed. They inherited the place and it

became the anchor in their lives. Unable to bear children, she wondered what else was out there beyond the confines of their small Texas town, a sleepy place called Palmetto. Its streets fanned optimistically out into the horizon, tall weeds thrusting up through cracked asphalt. It was hot twenty-four seven, 365 days a year. The cars on the street all had that old and dusty look to them. Just like the people. Nobody in her family had taught her to dream, to reach beyond the stars and find out if there was anything else out there. A part of her saw the same aborted spirit in John. He had a wanderlust but outside of serving in the military he never ventured beyond the town limits and neither did she. Together, however, they escaped. Every early morning on that pool table they could touch, and feel and kiss away the melancholy of a life never born. She inherited the fatalistic mindset from her mother and her mother before her. Go to church, find a good man and get married. Steve was a good man, she couldn't deny that. A part of her did love him but maybe more out of familiarity than anything else. He had asked her out first and they legitimately had a good friendship going. A friendship that should have stayed that way. When she was young, she just didn't take complete notice of John, who was super shy. Steve would make you notice him but John, John was subtle in a way that a Japanese print is subtle. Only after a study of the restrained delicacy of the print can you begin to see the strength, discipline and vitality that lives within. Kim opened the diner and served a customer that she had never seen before. An elderly gentleman who stood only five feet-one but carried himself as if he were eight-feet tall. He had pale blue eyes that set in a face that had seen it all. But he still smiled like a fourteen year old boy when he saw a pretty woman. “You're married?” he asked, noticing her wedding ring as she poured him another cup of coffee. “Almost twenty years,” she said as she slapped away a lethargic mosquito that landed on her forearm. “Damn,” the old man said. “I was about to ask you out. I must say you are worth marrying for this omelet alone. Not too many folks know how to make a good omelet. A lost art. Hell, you should go on that show 'Chopped'. Show them a

thing or two.” “Yeah, maybe.” “That's all I do all day,” the man sighed. “Watch television. I like reality shows. Unbelievable. I watch Chopped. I watch the Cupcake Wars. And I watch the Kardashians.” “Can't stand them,” Kim said. “I love her ass and can't stop watching it,” he said. “I can't help it. It is like watching a train wreck. And then there is this car repossession show that I love.” “Not much of a TV watcher, I'm afraid,” Kim said, speaking like a woman who realized that part of her job was to entertain boring conversation. “Don't start,” the old man said. “That's all I do at my age. Kids don't visit. Don't call. Unless of course they want money. But you, if I had a wife like you I would set you up for life.” “Don't let age stop you,” Kim laughed. “There are plenty of girls in town that'll take you up on that.” Kim laughed but her face turned serious as Steve walked into the diner. He carried a box of supplies with him, trays of eggs, bacon and sausage. “Hi, Honey,” she said. “Hey now,” Steve said. “This is my husband, Steve,” Kim said to the old man sipping at his coffee. Steve shook the old man's hand, “Steve Hopson.” “Brian Dunphy.” “Nice to meet you, Mister Dunphy,” Steve said, walking over to Kim and kissing her on the lips. “Hotter than hell, huh?” Dunphy said. “I mean the weather and not your wife.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I could take the rest of the day off and fish by the lake.” “You hunt?” “Of course,” Steve said. “You're in redneck country. The first thing they put in a crib is a rod and a rifle.” “I hope you don't mind,” Kim said. “But I was telling Mister Dunphy here that you were in the Gulf War. He's here for the Veteran Memorial they're putting in at City Hall.” “I mind,” Steve said. “Sometimes. Every now and then some liberal folks want to give me a lecture on what I should have or should not have done over there.” “Fuck them,” Dunphy said. “And excuse my language, ma'am.” “Don't mind me,” Kim said. “And call me Kim. “What do they know?” the old man continued. “Sometimes shit just has to get done. That's what we said seventy years ago and it still stands. Don't know how things got so screwed up in this country. I used to be a Democrat. I was all about Truman. Family was all about Truman. Now that party is totally unrecognizable from what it was in my day. Totally unrecognizable. I don't even vote anymore.” “What branch of service were you in?” “You can tell?” the old man laughed. “I was in the Army. Served in World War II. Europe.” The rumble of the motorcycle outside rattled the windows as it pulled into the parking lot. Steve looked out and watched as John dismounted from the bike. “This is one of my friend coming in now,” Steve said. “We served in the Gulf together.” “He saved Steve's life,” Kim offered. “Howdy all,” John said as he stepped into the diner.

The old man looked up and extended his hand to John. “I'm Brian Dunphy. Been swapping war stories here with your buddy.” “John Dempsey,” John said, surprised at the strength of the old man's grip. “This man and I have been through a lot of shit together,” Steve said, nodding over at John. “I mean a lot.” Kim poured all three men coffee. “Mister Dunphy here was in World War II,” Steve winked. “You know, the big one. Doolittle. Ike. Patton.” “Patton,” John said “I wouldn't have wanted him as a drill sergeant.” “Fuck him,” Dunphy said. “Pervert. Molested his fifteen year old niece. Nobody talks about that. Then the niece gets a boyfriend and what does Patton do? Sends him to the front lines to get killed.” “I didn't know that,” John said. “True story. But he did what the politicians wanted. Wanted to do more but they didn't let him. Kinda the same situations you guys were in. Shoulda have went in there and wiped out that Hussein in the first go around. We could have saved a lot of lives and trouble.” “We had our hands tied,” Steve said. “Back in my day, it was black and white,” Dunphy said. “We were the good guys and the Nazis were bad. I ed how one night we captured one and found a pack of American cigarettes on him. We knew where that came from.” “American cigarettes?” Kim asked. “From the bodies of one of our men,” John said. “What did you do?” Kim asked. The old man looked at the waitress with a glint in his eyes. “You guys want to fill her in on that one? I don't want to it to anything.”

“He blew the guys brains out,” Steve said. “War is hell,” the old man reached into his pocket and planted a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Keep the change.” “Thank you.” “Back then,” the old man said getting out of his seat. “We didn't give a shit about political correctness. We did what we had to do and they pinned a medal to my ass. I sleep like a baby at night. I hope you guys can too.” “Thank you for your service,” Brian said, extending his hand to Steve. “Brian, thank you.” “It was a pleasure meeting you folks,” Brian said. “Nice to know there are some good people still out there. This country should do more for you guys than just lip service, you know? They sent you to that hell hole and tied your hands. They should have let you finish the job. Can't leave business undone like that. It only comes back to haunt you.” “What do you mean?” Steve asked. “Trust me,” the old man said. “When you get to be my age you know when folks are making a mistake. When you have a problem, you have to nip that sucker right in the bud. Immediately. Take it out! Don't wait, don't hesitate, just do it. That's the problem with folks these days. They don't have the guts to follow through.” Brian headed toward the door, turned around then saluted the men. Steve saluted back. John lifted up his coffee cup, “Cheers, soldier.” Steve got up and walked to the window, watching Brian leave. “They don't make 'em like that anymore.” “No, they sure don't,” John said, sipping from his coffee.

“That old fart asked me if I hunt,” Steve said. “That got me thinking, it has been awhile. Was wondering if you wanted to shine some deer tonight.” “Shining deer is against the law,” Kim said. “What do you care about the law?” Steve asked, laughing to himself. “Laws, rules, it isn't right,” Kim said. “Shining the light at the deer hypnotizes it. Then you kill the poor thing. Disgusting.” “Whatever,” Steve said. “Are you up for it, John? when we were kids we shined and killed so many deer. Kept the families fed. We ate what we killed so that makes it all right.” “We'd get caught,” John said. “Game warden.” “Come on, man,” Steve said. “Since when are you scared of getting caught?” “I'm not,” John said. “So come on. It'll be just like old times.” “Okay fine,” John said. “I have some work at the pier but I'll be done early.” “Awesome,” Steve said. “We'll come get you around seven-ish.” John got up out of his seat and headed toward the door before turning around. “What do you mean 'we'?” “Kim's coming.” “I am?” “What for?” John asked. “We need a watch dog,” Steve said. “She still has enough good looks to sweet talk a game warden. Just in case.” “I'm not a watch dog,” Kim said. “And I don't want to go.” “But it's my party,” Steve said. “And you're invited.”

“You still have the lights?” John asked. “In the garage somewhere,” Steve said. “Just have to dust them off. I have it all. Lights. Rifles. Everything we need.” “Alright,” John said. “I gotta get down to the lake. I'll see you.” “Okay,” Steve said, never taking his eyes off John until he left the diner. Then he turned to Kim. His face expressionless. “Do me a favor and pack something to eat,” Steve said. “Maybe a sandwich or something, you know.” “Okay,” Kim said as she kissed Steve on the cheek and headed off. CHAPTER FOUR Kim's heart beat like a jack hammer as she byed her house and went straight over to the lake. She wondered how other women reacted in situations like this, how their husbands would respond after finding out that their wife had a lover. And the lover was their own best friend. It sounded it like a soap opera, she thought. She went through various permutations in her mind of how the confrontation would go. What would Steve say? What would she in response? Kim quickly realized she had no answers if Steve asked why she did what she did. The affair had been a mutual thing, a spur of the moment act that had since grown into an addiction. An addict, she thought. She could say that even if it weren't true. But Steve wouldn't buy it. He would see right through her. He always did with those eyes. Blue eyes that narrowed black as he squinted through their slits, accusing and assuming guilt without a trial. Maybe that was the problem. She acted out and had an affair because her husband did not make her feel loved. “That's bullshit,” Kim said to herself, shaking her head as if to till away the

negative thoughts. Rationalizations were a luxury for other women. She had to act now before someone got hurt or killed. John looked up as Kim arrived at the boating deck. He sat down in front of the sailboat motor and pretended to be lost in his work. He couldn't look Steve in the eye. He couldn't look Kim in the eye. Hell, when he caught his own reflection in the mirror he couldn't even look at himself. He thought about a sermon he heard once when his parents forced him to go to church. He didn't the exact wording but it had been something about a man who let just a little bit of sin in his life. The preacher said something about a man with white gloves soiling his hands while working with charcoal, making some kind of analogy of how sin may not kill you but it can blacken your purity. “All it takes is just a little bit,” he ed the preacher saying. “Just a little opening and that sin will tear your life apart.” John never listened. Raised in a religious family, he thought he was above that sort of thing. His own parents looked down their nose at people who had affairs, got divorces, raised kids that ended up in and out of rehab. But John had grown up to be a decent man. Worked hard. Served his country. He did everything he was supposed to do. Except he could not resist the beauty of Kim. Those nights he spent thinking about her, imagining scenarios where they could be together, in and outside the bedroom. His heart pounded faster as Kim drew close. Why? Why did he sleep with her? Sin will tear your life apart. The preacher was right. He hated the lying, the hiding. He started to construct a plan for an escape. He could move someplace else, maybe California. Start all over again. “He knows,” Kim said.

John didn't reply. He just took a deep breath. “He knows . I don't know how or when but he knows.” John stood up and looked Kim in the eye. “And?” “He's gonna kill you tonight. This whole hunting trip is a ruse.” “No,” John said, kneeling back down and returning his attention to the engine part. “Steve is not that kind of man. At least I don't think. He may try and punch me. But he's not going to kill me. And he doesn't know if you didn't tell him.” “I could see it in his eyes,” Kim said. “I know him. Believe me, I know him.” John took a deep breath, now eyeballing Kim. “Bull crap.” “That old man got him going,” Kim said. “He put the idea in Steve's head. About finishing a job. I know Steve. I could see it in his face.” John adjusted a screw on the engine part then his pliers drop to the ground. “Dammit!” “See?” Kim said. “You know I'm right.” “He's not going to kill me or you,” John said. “He's not stupid.” “No,” Kim said. “He's very smart. And he'll find a way to kill you. Maybe me too.” “Relax.” “Just make something up,” Kim said. “Think of something. Tell him that you have to fix someone's speedboat. Someone needs a rush job and paid you a lot of money to fix it asap. “No more lies,” John said, getting up and turning his back on Kim. “White lies,” Kim said. “White lies save lives.”

“They ruin lives,” Steve said. “I'm not lying anymore. Or hiding. That's my decision.” “So what does that mean?” “It means we're done.” “I don't want it to end. And neither do you.” “What would Steve want?” John turned around, his face red with shame and anger. “What about what we want?” “It doesn't matter!” John said, entering into his work shed and slamming the door in Kim's face. He peered through the opening of the shingles, watching as Kim ran her hands through her hair. He felt sorry for as he always did, she had that look of someone that wanted more out of life but just didn't know how to go about it. Someone who deserved more than the hand she was dealt. In his dreams, his fantasies, he had always been her rescuer. “I need to stop doing that,” he muttered as she walked back to her car. CHAPTER FIVE Steve dismantled one of his rifles on the garage table and cleaned it out with an oily rag. He felt as if he were in a game where he didn't know the rules. They were both stronger and smarter than him and maybe they both realized it, hence the affair. But they were wrong. They hurt him. They treated him like a second class citizen, as if their bonds to him could be broken at a moment's notice and he could be tossed aside, like a piece of soiled toilet paper. He assembled the rifle back together and inserted the bullets. Steve entered the kitchen and saw Kim with her back turned. He snuck up behind her, like a soldier taking an enemy by surprise.

“Boo!” he said, grabbing his wife around the waist. She screamed and spun around, her knife poised to strike. “Take it easy there, wifey,” Steve said, taking the knife out of her hand. “Could kill someone with that.” “Don't do that,” Kim said, catching her breath. “I don't know why you like scaring me.” “Oh, come on. I when we were teenagers and you used to love it when I scared you.” “We're not teenagers anymore,” Kim said, turning back around and returning her attention to the sandwiches. “You know, in the war they used to call me the 'Ninja',” Steve said. “Used to be able to sneak up on folks without them ever knowing. Hit the enemy without them even knowing what hit him.” “You know,” Kim said. “I'm really not up to going out. I was wondering if we could just stay home tonight. We can curl up on the couch and watch those Dexter re-runs. I just bought a bootleg set off of eBay.” “We can do that,” Steve said. “Tomorrow night. Why let those sandwiches go to waste?” “Making sandwiches isn't the only thing I'm good at,” Kim turned around, smirking at Steve. “Really now?” “Like on prom night? When we came back to my house. Mom was asleep.” “And we had to be real quiet.” “Do you that night?” “I think about it all the time,” Steve kissed Kim on the lips. Soft at first then

harder. “Sometimes I feel like I make you sad though.” “All I want is for you to be happy,” she said, dropping to her knees. She began to unzip his pants when he lifted her back up. “Not right now,” he said, kissing her again. “That old man,” she said. “Do you think he what he said was true? That he killed the German?” “Of course.” “Does that make things okay? I mean, I know it is a war and all but to shoot a man in cold blood.” “We were doing our jobs,” Steve said. “He was doing his duty. There is honor in killing your enemy.” “That is how you know when things are right? When it is your job?” “You feel it in your gut,” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “When someone is seeking to do you harm, it is okay to kill them.” CHAPTER SIX Steve drove while Kim and John remained silent. His truck was low, long, black and powerful. It had power brakes, power steering, power seats, power windows and acceleration. It rode so smoothly that Steve had to look at the speedometer to realize that he has forty miles over the speed limit. The truck rode quiet, perfect transport for its occupants. The big hot Texas sun was replaced with a bright, white moon. On the side of the ride stood abandoned homes with hurricane shutters over large windows. Heading further south, the homes were smaller but still deserted and badly in need of paint. Steve looked out the window, catching glimpses of deer running back into the woods as their truck raced by. John looked over at Steve,noticing the knob of muscle standing out at the corner of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Kim sat

between the two men and stared straight ahead for several miles before finally reaching for the radio. “Got to liven things up here,” she said, turning the radio on to a Taylor Swift song before Steve turned the dial to off. “I don't want to listen to anything,” Steve said. “Hunting is about focus. It has to be grim and unhappy. At least that's what my father used to tell me. Kind of like going to war.” The two men said nothing further as Steve pulled over to the side of the road and parked. John stepped out of the truck first, taking in the surroundings. The woods seemed darker then he ed. Foreboding. Steve stepped out of the driver side, reached his hand out to Kim and helped her out of the truck. “You know what would be cool?” John said. “If we had one of those night vision goggles. Like we had in Desert Storm.” “Those were cool,” Steve said. “Made all of those firefights a mismatch.” “And this isn't?” Kim asked. Steve ignored the comment and reached back into the truck's dashboard. He took out a flashlight and handed it to Kim. “What am I supposed to do with this?” “You'll need it.” “No,” Kim said. “Look, like you said, the game warden is going to come and we'll all get fined or worse.” John took out the lamps from the rear of the truck and turned one of them on. It flashed directly on Kim's face. “Stop!” Kim said. “Both of you. This is not hunting. This is not fun.”

“Lighten up,” Steve said, taking one of the lamps from John. “At day break we'll meet a mile east.” “Just keep your eyes peeled,” John said, taking his rifle out from the hatch. “I seriously doubt the warden makes it out this far.” “He's right,” Steve said, grabbing a shotgun from inside the backseat. “You stay your ass here. If you hear a car coming, don't panic.” He raised the gun in the air, pointing it at an imaginary target in the distance. “But if someone messes with you. Blam! Comprende?” “Whatever,” Kim said, taking the gun. Steve stepped back to the rear of the truck. John stood beside Kim, pretending to look out into the woods but then turning his head toward Kim. She gave him a look of worry. Steve turned back around and noticed the looks they were giving each other. He felt helpless. There seemed to be a cold precision about what they were doing that baffled him. He felt like he had walked into a movie in the middle of a very convoluted plot. The story was incomprehensible to him. He would seek a clue in the actors' words and actions but what the more he watched the more he became baffled. “Ready to rock?” “Let's do this,” John said, trudging his way into the woods with rifle in hand. Steve took his own gun and walked over to Kim. “Don't worry about me,” he planted a kiss on her lips. The two men walked down the dark trail. “Talk about deja vu,” John said “Yep,” Steve said. “Some memories you just can't erase. Some things you just can't get out of your mind.”

“Except here we have woods. No desert.” “Yep. We don't have to worry about stepping on IEDS. Like when I saved your ass that night.” “Or some terrorist coming to chop your head off,” John made a slicing motion across his throat. “We got to them before they got to us.” “That's usually the best policy.” “Yep,” Steve said. “Do it to him before he does it to you.” CHAPTER SEVEN “Texas heat,” John said. “Insane. But nothing like that Iraq heat. God I hated that place.” “Why her, John?” Steve asked. “I don't know,” John said. “And I wish I could give you a better answer than that.” “Sometimes things just don't need answers,” Steve said. “They just need solutions.” Steve ran to his left, skipping up a hill in the dark woods. John went in the opposite direction, turning right and going down a slope. Kim took a bottle of brandy and took a long swig. She took out her flashlight and just waited. Why did she come out here? She should have insisted that they stay home. Seduced Steve like she always did. But he was so damn determined to go on this trip. He resisted all of her advances as if he knew she was trying to delay the inevitable.

Steve traipsed through the woods, setting up shop behind a large oak tree. He set his lamp down and laid on his belly, his rifle pointed straight ahead. John propped his rifle against a tree and placed his lamp inside the crook of a tree branch. He took the wire from the light, running it down the tree and across the dirt. He squatted down five feet away, fingers poised on the power button of the lamp. Kim couldn't stand it anymore. She tested her flashlight and walked down the trail, hoping to find wherever they went. She would confess everything. Confess to Steve. Take all of the blame. Anything to get John off the hook. John knew the time was right. He turned on the lamp. Steve saw the light, thinking that John had spotted a deer. He immediately shot where he estimated John's body would be. Kim heard the shot and came sprinting toward the sound. She saw the downed lamp in the dirt and picked it up, the light once again raising in the darkness. Steve saw the light and fired again but John tackled Kim just as the gun went off. They both rolled onto the ground as he covered her. “Shhh!” he whispered. “I'm so scared, John,” Kim said. “He knows. Do you believe me now?” “It doesn't matter anymore,” John said, shaking his head. “It was that old fart, talking about finishing a war. It just set him off.” “You too! What the hell are you doing with a rifle in your hand? Nothing good can come out of this!” “Shut up,” he whispered. “We have to talk about this,” Kim got up but John pulled her back down to the ground. “He's lost it.”

“I have to try and fix this,” Kim said. “You can't fix things like this. You just have to let them play out.” “Bullshit!” Kim said. “You guys are all full of shit. You won't stop until someone or both of you is dead. I'm not letting that happen.” Kim pushed John off her. “Get your ass back here!” “Shut up!” Kim ran through the woods, John caught up to her after a few yards. “You have to go back,” he said, taking her by the wrist and tugging her back where she came. “You can't confront him when he has a gun. Okay? Just go back. I'll meet you at the truck in ten minutes. I promise.” Kim nodded her head and proceeded down the road where the parked. John waited until she was out of sight then sprinted to his right, taking cover and cocking his rifle. Kim ran a few more steps before doubling-back. She skipped through the woods and found her flashlight on the ground. Steve heard movement to his left. He pivoted on his stomach and moved his rifle over in that direction. Kim heard the rustling of the leaves and turned on the flashlight. Steve saw the light go on and worked the bolt expertly. His shot arced out into the night. The sound of the rifle going off seemed louder than anything they heard in the war. The bullet hit Kim in the head then lodged in her throat, smashing a major artery. The immediate brain damage imparted a stimulus to the central nervous system so that her body bowed upward then collapsed. John gave out a hoarse cry of panic as he saw his lover laying on her back, blood

spurting out of her wound. Steve came down from his perch, racing down to John. His friend looked up at him, not moving. John could never look at a dead body, not even during war time. He was always that way. Steve had the rifle pointed at John until he saw Kim on the ground. Her eyes were like frosted glass. The lower half of her face was slack. Her spirit..Her beautiful spirit had left her body. He threw the rifle down and began weeping. They rode back in the truck in silence. John drove. Steve sat there clutching his dead wife, blood seeping into his clothes and hands. Their lives were over. They had both lost the women they loved. The violence they had witnessed would be stamped in their minds forever, far worse than everything they had seen in the war. A memory hammered into their brain by a great steel die. It was as if their areas of thought were sheets of paper, carefully stacked and the impact of the die embosses the picture of violence all the way down through the stack, sharply and clearly. Both men forgot how the shock of violence makes thought processes unreliable. Their drill sergeant never told them that the brain makes a convulsive effort to take in every tiny aspect of the moment of violence then it exhausts itself and thereafter functions only intermittently. Thoughts become jumbled and irrational. But John knew what had to be done. The cliff over the trail had a steep fall. John picked up speed as the speedometer dial breached 120 mph. He closed his eyes and thought about the first time he laid eyes on Kim. They were at the beach and they were both fifteen years old. She wore a light blue bikini and she came out of the water from a swim. She shook out her hair and smiled at him for the first time.

He surrendered himself to her then. And he surrendered as he drove the truck off the cliff.