**“Darling, you could’ve avoided this if you hadn’t opened your pretty little mouth to call me a psycho..” **
I stood there infront of him, his body covered in the slimy crimson substance of blood. How dare he talk to another girl? How dare he betray my trust in such a horrid manner?
“Whatever..” I mumbled, as I carelessly turned away from him while I pulled the bloodied surgeons gloves off of my hands. I hadn’t thought to check his pulse at all. And that’s when the phone call ended and the police sirens sounded.
“Officer I swear I didn’t kill him..” I now say with fake tears swelling in my eyes. “Do you really think his own girlfriend would do such a thing?” I forced my voice to give out, bringing my hands up to my mouth.
I searched the store for my team. Okay, there was Lily, there was Riley, there was Hugo at the exit and there was Jack, not far behind him. I scooped up the beautiful golden necklace and slipped it into my long white glove. I walked over to the paying and stood in line before Riley. I silently dropped the necklace into her bag. On cue, she said, “Look at that!” she pointed out the window, and as the cashier was looking at the huge banner in the sky, that was being flown by Joan as planned, Riley walked to the other side of the check-in, “That’s amazing! Oh, well I must be getting home. C’mon Maya!”
I said, “Thank you! We do have to get going, though,”
As we walked toward the exit I lurched to a stop. No!!! Riley must have forgotten she had the stolen necklace. She was about to walk out of the shop and get caught! I yelled, “Riley!” causing everyone in the store to look at me angrily. I did my best “Oopsy” face and pretended to say, “Riley we are in so much trouble! It’s past 10 O’Clock!” this was not a lie. Thank god Riley realized what had almost happened and said, “We are so busted!”
As planned, nobody was paying attention to us. I mean, why would they? We were just two college girls who were past their curfew. Riley pretended to look for something in her purse but threw the necklace to me. I catched it and saved it inside my stockings. All attention was turned to Riley as she walked out of the store. The perfect distraction for me to take the necklace out of its hiding spot and toss it over the exit to Hugo. While I walked out of the store, Hugo hurled it to Jack who chucked it inside our getaway car.
Mission complete!
I sat up on my bed looking down on my best friend, Vienna, who sat on the floor
“You killed that man?!”
“I didn’t mean to!”
It was true. I killed a man. It was an accident but it indeed happened.
“What are you going to do?! Wait…am i an accomplice?!” Vienna yelled.
“Vienna! Chill out, shit. If my parents hear me I swear to God I’ll-“
“You’ll what? Kill me?” Vienna responded, her voice rising as she stood up.
I sigh. I knew what it seemed like. I was killing everyone around me, or maybe that I can’t control my anger.
Vienna leaned over me, her silk ginger hair curling back as she leaned.
“Get your shit together.”
I watched as she left the room. I laid back on my pink pillowcase and looked at my hands, my fingernails still covered in dried blood. My hand started to shake and my palm got moist.
What did I just do? I killed a man? Did I really do that?
I laughed a little. Who would believe that a fourteen year old girl would have such power?
“I see a man. He is dressed in rags and coarse long beard. His hair is disheveled and appears to be pushing a grocery cart,” and with that Brian Middleton collapsed. Detective Jackie sat back in his chair and shook his head and said, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean. That describes about every homeless person in the city.” The chief stared at him and put his finger to his lips to let him know to be quiet. Billy continued with his description of where the body of Jonie Mitchell could be found. It was near a dumpster in an abandoned building in a small industrial area. The chief smiled and looked at Detective Jackie as if to say “Well, what are you waiting for?”. Mike jumped to his feet and went out of the interview room slamming the door. He knew he would regret that later. Mike walked up to his partner Jackie Bullton and said “Ok, the psychic says we need to go down to the small industrial site on the west side of town.” He made sure to use air quotes to put emphasis on psychic. Jackie smiled at him and said, “So the chief is buying this crap, huh?”. Mike shrugged and said, “I suppose so.” They grabbed their jackets and headed out. The industrial section of town was a disaster, and every building looked the same. “I wonder which abandoned building this supposed dumpster is supposed to have Jonie’s body in it?” Mike said as he kicked a rock. Jackie smiled at him and grabbed her cell phone to call and have some uniformed officers come down to help with the search. After six hours of searching one of the uniformed officers came running up to detective Bullton and said, “We’ve found her, or at least it’s a body.”. Jackie called Mike on her radio, and they went to where the officers and sure enough there she was. She had been beaten pretty severely around the head. Mike looked over at the CSI officer and said, “Go ahead and see what you can and let me know as soon as you have finished so I can take a look at what you got.”. Both detectives headed over to the police station and just sat down at their desks when the phone rang. Mike answered the phone and his jaw just about dropped to the floor and said, “Are you sure?”, and he kept saying it over and over before he finally hung up. He looked at Jackie and said, “They found Brian Middleton’s card on her body.”. Looking at each other they called down to the chief to ask if Middleton was still here and what was found on Jonie’s body. When they got to the chiefs' office they rushed in and told them what they found. The chief looked at them and said, “He left about four hours ago. He said he had to go overseas, he looked at his watch, and said, “His plane left about two hours ago.”. Mike was afraid to ask the next question, but he knew he head to, “Has he offered to help with other cases?”. The chief dropped his head and said, “Yeah, at least 20 other cases.”. They realized then they had probably just let a serial killer go and who knows where the hell he was now.
You’re onto me. You’re watching me so closely, it hurts. Must you tower over me so menacingly? My face drowns, ensanguined. Stop. Your petals are piercing my back, drenching me in sweat. Like a frightened hare, I start to run. Past you, past the horizon, past my rumination. I can’t stop. Cascading down my brow is the salt from his wounds, his pained face is a blurred memory fighting my lungs.
I didn’t kill him.
The alibi is centremetres away from my tongue; the words are stuck at the back of my throat and they’re choking me. I didn’t choke him. My hands are cut and numb from his teeth gnashing my fingers in retaliation… but I didn’t choke him. You’re looking at me again, I said to stop.
Run faster. Faster.
The trees have become green noise, the spirals and fuzz turn, turn, turn closer to my face. The acne on my temples burn and I find myself pleading at the poppies — _“I didn’t kill him!” _As if they can spare me. The wind is pushing my eyelids shut whilst I try to creep them open. My eyelashes are scorned from his attempts to burn them away. His knee was against my vertebrae, I heard my spine crack.
He was going to kill me. What could I do?
I stop at the fork in the road. Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you, left or right? It won’t matter either way. My stomach crushed into itself when I saw his face freeze. He was a lively one. I shouldn’t of killed—
I’m taking a left. I suggest you look away.
Did I cross the line?
I look down at my clothes, my hands, Slick with sin, Seeping between the lines in my palms, A tapestry of another man's life.
Had I taken it too far?
Rivers of red undoing, snake down my arms, To cup his face, porcelain skin warped unholy, Marred by my red-handed touch.
The woman called for her love desperately Hoping he would come back inside But he stood, stock still by the forestry Far away from the firelight
His eyes scanned for shuffles and movement in the shrubs Any day now, any minute he could kill his love One flutter of an owl, and he would commit The murder one’s been planning, he would submit
The woman stood near the doorframe, her fingers feeling for metal She closed the door tightly, instincts screaming like a kettle In a bustle and flail she packed all her things A lamp, a bottle, and a knife that gleamed
Without preparing for shivers, she stepped out the back door Fleeing from the one she once cared for The woman saw a flash, a scurry in the forest Her blood felt warm and her body took control first
She ran, skin barely noticing the layers of white She ran, for herself, for goodness, for her life The lamp lit the way through the shadowy darkness A spotlight to whom wanted her carcass
A smack, a boom, erupting in night The woman ran, her lamp loosing light A puff, a shadow, dark fingers spread Enclosing the darkness, and all who tread
As Elaine sat on the bus, waiting out the journey to her next destination, she stared forward silently and intently. She wanted no one to speak to her, keeping her wired headphones in to drown out the noises around. She liked her headphones with the wire that still connected to her iPhone. Unlike many people who have Bluetooth headphones now and tend to confuse others of beginning conversations, teasing those who cannot see the tiny piece of plastic in their ear. She preferred the image of others knowing she was busy listening to something other than them. First, to allow them to not want to even begin a conversation. Second, so that she had an excuse to ignore those bold enough to do the opposite. The bus ride was long and tedious. Every now and then the driver would stop at the next station to drop off those who would begin their next phase and pick up those ready to begin. Even though Elaine wanted nothing to do with those around her, curiosity got the best of her, and she found herself dreaming of each person’s story. The Bus driver, the man with the mohawk sitting diagonal to her, the woman holding a small child sleeping up against her breasts. They all had some story and imagining it helped passed the time anyway. Elaine first imagined the bus drivers’ story. She imagined he came from a home with a wife and kids, yet kids who have outgrown their parents’ home by the look of his age. He had lots of wrinkles, but not too many that she would be nervous of him driving the bus. His wife loved him dearly, but they have been through their fair share of challenges and torment over the years. He struggled to find work that was satisfying enough to his wife for a while, but this bus driving job kept him away from home for days at a time. Maybe, he needed the space to save his marriage. The wife, being home alone for days, found the time for another to satisfy her, perhaps keeping the arguments at bay, and in turn their marriage works. They know each other has secrets, but they choose to ignore them for they are older now and there is no point in dumb chaos. Smart choice. I’m sure the bus driver has had a few flings with his days on the road anyway. The man with the mohawk. His mohawk wasn’t as crazy as some she had seen, but still out of the norm. She pictured his life to be the closest to hers. A family who didn’t agree with your mind, who saw your difference to them as rebellion. Well, if they want a rebel then they will get a rebel. His mom was the kinder of the parents, yet still difficult. His dad on the other hand, he was cruel and a drunk. He would ask forgiveness the next day for the beatings he gave at night from indulging in too much beer. But he always had a beer in hand. Over the years of repetitive behavior and hiding in his room, he began to find ways to express himself without bringing about the punishment he never really deserved. He used music to drown out the noise of his parents’ arguments, and of course it had to be loud enough to cover the screams. In turn, he found his love for rock and roll. Now that he is older, his dad kicked him out and he is here to go start his budding music career. Elaine found the woman with the child’s story to be the saddest that she imagined. No dad, clearly. He left a while ago when they found out their son was sick. He couldn’t handle the pain of going through watching him slowly die. She, on the other hand, would do anything it took for her son to get better. He is so tiny and young in his years after all. How tragic to just let that be taken away from him. They never fought in front of their son and before he was born, they never really fought at all. The father was just too weak to be selfless. She had to deal with the doctors alone, while trying to juggle work to pay all the medical bills. The bills that kept rolling in faster than she could pay the last three. She asked her mom for help, but her mom could only do so much as to babysit while she worked. Then one day, she got the news that was worse than the pain of her husband leaving and worse than the pain of infinite debt. Her son was getting worse, and the doctors didn’t know how long he had. The only doctor that could help was an 18-hour bus ride away. So of course, she hopped on, only to get there so that she could beg the doctors to help with the possibility of them saying no. As Elaine imagined each of their stories, she thought of her own. Why she got on that bus. Did she have as good a reason as the rest of them or was she just running away from her problems and used this as an excuse? “A new adventure.” She would tell her friends. “I need to leave this small town, before I am trapped like the rest of you.” Harsh, but true. No, she had just as good a reason as all the rest.
I looked around as the bus continued. “How am I supposed to get home from here?”, I asked myself. Outside the bus, the sky was dark with anger, as if I had somewhow defied it when I had the fight with my best friend. The bus driver slammed on the breaks while I immediately slid forward. I looked torwards the windshield and saw the hood of a blue jeep and a shattered windshield behind it. I sat in schock before attempting to remove my seatbelt, but I was unable to. The driver was unconscious, as a few of the passengers, while the others, like myself sat in both worry and fear. I looked torwards the other car again, but this time I noticed there was only one unmoving passenger sitting in the drivers seat with long waist length hair evenly over her shoulders. It couldn’t be… I covered my mouth in horror. It was my best friend.
Benne the dog has been loyal; as that’s what his owner initially taught him. Benne protected him and often rewarded him a treat or lick his ketchup stained arm when he came home from a long days of work. Benne found his owner, in which he learned his name was Keith. Benne noticed that the ketchup on Keith’s arm was always sweeter and richer than the Heinz ketchup he usually bought—but Benne dismissed it, without thinking twice. For some reason, Keith was always fighting for his life, as people and policemen seemed to always be trying to find him. In turn, Benne and his owner always had to move to different locations to avoid being spotted and for his hunters to lose track of where Keith was. Oftentimes, Benne actually had to step in and fight against whoever was hurting Keith. Benne could never understand the human language fully, and never heard what the policemen said about Keith—like how he was actually the highest wanted criminal known to man… Benne sat down besides his owners side, licking the ketchup stained arm again. Keith sighed and said the one thing Benne actually understood. “Good dog,” Keith exclaimed, patting and stroking his fur. Keith repeated the motion and then with his other hand scratched Benne’s back, exactly what Benne had grown to adore. Benne sometimes continuously questioned himself. He was slightly confused of why his owner was always being hunted. Benne always thought of his owner as loving and kind, but that was something that should help Keith not get hunted, or perhaps there was a bigger reason behind it all this time. Keith knelt down, his old, worn out back cracking. Benne himself had also developed highlights of white in his fur, especially around his nose. The white fur had creeped up, stretching toward his eyes, but Benne hardly understood what he even looked like, so he never thought of it as getting to the end of his dog life. Not to mention it, but Benne had noticed Keith burying plastic bags in the backyard. Benne watched Keith struggle through the hard, winter ground as the whole process seemed to be immensely tedious. Benne sometimes laughed when looking at the large plastic bags, but never knew what could be inside of them… As Benne thought, head planted on the warm wooden flooring, staring up and down as his owner offered pieces of meat to him that he had gathered from the backyard. Keith dipped the meat in ketchup, and it was always unexpectedly chewy, but Keith never revealed where the meat had come from. Benne knew it couldn’t have been a cow, or a pig. The meat was even tougher than steak. But then Benne knew that the meat was raw, uncooked, so it had to be hard, and suddenly it all made sense. Keith never cooked meat raw, and never seemed to ever enjoy ketchup. Keith never ate ketchup. Suddenly it all came pouring into Benne’s mind. How could he have believed it was ketchup. He had really thought that the Mason Jar filled with a thick red liquid was ketchup…No, this was something worse than the confines of just regular ketchup. It was some sort of specialized, sugary ketchup, if that even was a thing. And then Benne became hesitant as his owner dropped the piece of meat into his rusting metal bowl and realized that his water bowl too was filled with the red substance. Benne had never realized any of this before, that he could have been protecting someone, someone who was evil…Benne was the protector of evil; he had been an accomplice to Keith’s own crimes that Benne thought were just friendly walks. And it all came to Benne, all at once. All the dark secrets that he had just uncovered. He did not yet know what the red liquid could be; his best guess was blood…